#insane option highly unlikely but hey

[darkshrimpemotions]

I should have added one more option to the heller clowning poll: Cas has been there the whole time because he's using Dean as a temporary vessel for this time-travel road trip. Which explains why Dean was able to just vanish after giving John the letter from Henry: he's got his angel along for the ride. 😏

[fandomfix13]

Get Him Back - Rafe Cameron 18+

* HI ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE WRITTEN ANYTHING BUT IM HERE NOW

* TBH THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT SO BARE WITH ME

* This is so super long and also completely filthy at parts SO MDNI and pls read warnings

* little bit of fluff? Def some pretty smutty smut. This did not start out as smut but here we are

* WRITTEN IN Y/N’s POV, lots of dialogue

*anything in italics is your inner monologue

Word count: 4K

WARNINGS: MDNI!, mentions of cheating (not rafe), toxic ex,  oral (giving and receiving), fingering, rough-ish??, p in v sex, hair pulling, light choking??, not rated e for everyone

The rain is pouring down in sheets. Falling harder than it has in a while. My head is pounding from holding back tears, that I might as well let out. I never thought that I would be in this situation. Forced out of my boyfriend's car after a fight at nearly one in the morning, with a dead phone, left to walk home alone in the pouring rain. How cliche. Not to mention the fact that I’m just over three miles away from home. What a dick. Some “man” he is to leave me like that. For all he cares, I could be kidnapped out here. However, it's highly unlikely being that I’m wandering in one of (if not the nicest) neighborhoods in this entire state. Constantly guarded by a neighborhood watch, with gated community after gated community.

 I can see the the sharp rain plummeting down in the glow of the street lights. Unlucky for me, the wind has picked up too making this walk even more miserable. At this point, I have two options; 1. I could continue to walk home in this miserable weather OR 2. I could lose all dignity and show up to Sarah’s house after not talking to her in months. Seeing as this storm is showing absolutely no sign of stopping, its looking like the second option is better. As I turn the corner, I approach the Seabrook Gated Community. A little ways down is the fence that Sarah and I used to hop all the time when we would sneak out. That’s my in. It’s an old rusty fence that is hidden behind some overgrown hedges behind some wildly overpriced house that rarely ever has anyone living in it.         

After nearly slipping off of the slippery fence, I make my way down the street to Tanny Hill. Mentally preparing myself for the absolute humiliation that will occur if Sarah opens the front door. We had our falling out about 3 months ago and we haven't spoken since. We have tried our best to avoid each other at all costs. At least I’ve tried avoiding her, that is, until this very moment. 

As I approach the front lawn, I genuinely consider turning around and quite literally braving the storm and walking home. As it is, I’m already soaked from head to toe and probably on the verge of pneumonia. However, I shake off my thoughts and walk towards the front door. I knock three times in hope that someone will hear. I don’t ring the doorbell out of fear of waking up the entire Cameron household which is the last thing I need to do. After a few seconds, nobody answers. This house is huge maybe they are coming. I convince myself that nobody is answering the door so I turn accepting my fate and I walk away. Suddenly, I hear the front door unlock and my breath gets caught in my throat when I hear his voice. 

“Y/N? Is that you?” Fuck. Me.

“Hey Rafe.” I choke out. God I probably look insane.

“What are you doing here?” he looks at his phone “at 1:26 in the morning.”

“Um. Is Sarah home?” I spit out, trying to avoid conversation.

“She’s not…but I am.” He leans against the door frame looking me up and down in a ‘you good?’ way. “You also didn’t answer my question.” He adds.

“I uh…I didn’t know where else to go.” I say quietly. I was right. This is in fact humiliating. He just stands there and stares at me. Clearly unamused at the fact that I still haven't answered his question as to why I am standing on his front porch looking like a wet dog. I would stare too. “Are you gonna let me inside? Or are you just gonna keep staring at me in silence.” I add.

“That depends.” He says lookin back into the house then back at me. “Are you gonna tell me why you’re here? Or are you just gonna avoid the question.” Touche. We stand here in silence for a moment as he watches me get pelted in the face by the rain and I chatter my teeth. He finally pushes the door open further and gestures for me to come inside. Thank go Sarah isn’t home because I would be shitting myself out of embarrassment right now. I walk in and Rafe opens a hallway in the closet as he reaches in and grabs a towel that he throws at me. “If You get anything wet, Rose will lose her shit.” 

“How kind.” I say with strong notes of sarcasm.

“Hey I didn’t have to let you in. I could've just left you outside on your own.” he’s right.

“Well you wouldn’t be the first guy to leave me outside tonight, so I probably would’ve been fine” I blurt out without thinking. What happened to me tonight is none of his business. Plus I’m sure he will hear about it anyway. However, he did let me inside which he did not have to do, so I could at least pretend to be grateful. 

“Damn. That's rough. Sorry about that.” he almost sounded embarrassed.

“No, it's fine. Thanks for the towel.” he nods and sits down at the kitchen counter. We stand in silence for a bit as I ring my hair out into the sink. This couldn’t be more awkward. Here I am standing in my ex best friend’s house with her older brother, who was in fact my first kiss in a game of truth or dare years ago, and who happens to be the best friend of my boyfriend who just dumped me on the side of the road in the middle of the night. This is just grand. “Do you have a phone charger? My phone is completely dead.” 

“Uh yeah its upstairs. Do you wanna-” he cut himself off before speaking again. “Do you just wanna come up with me so you can change?” Right. So. Apparently this absolutely CAN  feel more awkward. Whatever. I need to charge my phone and honestly a change of clothes sounds devine. I silently follow Rafe up the stairs and into his room. “If you want you can take a shower to warm up. Your teeth haven’t stopped chattering since you got here.” he’s being frighteningly nice. 

“Um sure.” I say hesitantly as I am incredibly confused by his nice attitude. I plug in my phone and Rafe hands me one of his old t-shirts and a pair of booty shorts that were surely left here by some random girl, but honestly I don’t care. I have to get out of these clothes. “Thanks.” I say taking the clothes and entering his bathroom, closing and locking the door quickly behind me. Literally what the fuck. There is no way this is really happening. 

I take my time in the shower as I let the steaming hot water warm me up for a while. When I’m done, I put on the clothes that Rafe gave me, and open the bathroom door seeing him sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey Topper called you like five times when you were in the shower.” He says unfazed. My attitude shifts almost immediately. 

“You didn’t answer it did you?” I blurt out. Nice job y/n! That wasn’t suspicious at all!

“No…why would I?” he laughs clearly confused as I let out a sigh  of relief. Once again. Awkward silence. I take a seat on the edge of the bed going through my phone. “Are you gonna call him back?” he asks. Before I could answer him, his phone starts to ring. Toppers name is displayed on the screen. Rafe looks at his phone, then back to me, then back to his phone. 

“I am NOT here. Answer it. Put it on speaker.” I say frantically. Now he's intrigued.

“Hey Top!” Rafe answers. “Rafe! I fucked up man. I fucked up BAD! I’m coming over. I need a drink asap.” I am immediately shaking my head and mouthing ‘no’. “Top I can’t tonight man. My dad is on my ass and if Rose finds out I have someone over, I’m dead bro.” Is he seriously helping me right now? 

Topper scoffs on the other line. “Since when have you given a shit about what Rose thinks? I’m already on my way!” 

“Then turn around and go home man. I can’t tonight.”

“What is up with you dude? You never turn down a drink” its silent for a minute “Oh shit do you have a chick over right now?” Im disgusted at the change in tone in Top’s voice when he  brings up Rafe having a girl over.

“Yeah bro I do. And she’s alone right now in my bed so I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow.” Rafe responds, very quick to go along with Topper’s question.

“That’s my man!” Topper laughs “is she hot? She better be hot!”

Even Rafe rolls his eyes at Topper’s comment. “Yeah she’s hot. Okay gotta go man.” Rafe responds as he hangs up the phone. Is that true, does he think I’m hot? I don’t care. Do I?

I let out a huge sigh of relief that we dodged the bullet of Top showing up here. 

“So. Are you gonna tell me why I just had to lie to my best friend?”

I shift nervously. “Well technically you didn’t lie. There is a ‘chick’ here and she is sitting on your bed.” I try to make a joke avoiding this conversation at all costs. 

“Y/n.” He says, raising his eyebrows. He clearly wants an answer. 

“I broke up with Top and he didn’t take it well.” I say on an exhale. He doesn’t say anything because he’s not stupid. He has probably figured out that much already. I let out a heavy sigh. “He kicked me out of his car in the middle of the road three miles away from my house in the fucking rain because I accused him of cheating on me. He told me that I had no idea what I was talking about. He said I was crazy, and that I was making shit up. But I’m not. I know for a fact that I’m not. It’s not the first time either. He’s done it before, which I’m sure you already know since you’re his best friend and he probably tells you everything.” I make that realization as I’m rambling my story out to him. Rafe is probably well aware of Topper’s lack of loyalty. 

“I uh. I knew about it the first time.” He admits. His honestly with the situation makes me laugh a little as I roll my eyes.

“Of course you did. Being that it was with your sister. I’d be shocked if you didn’t know.” The look on Rafe’s face instantly changes. It’s almost like he’s holding something back. “Unless…Sarah wasn’t the first girl was she. There was someone else.” Tears that I have been pushing back for weeks start to well in my eyes. Not because I’m sad, but because I’m furious. Even Rafe doesn’t know what to say. Without thinking, I grab my wet clothes and my barely charged phone, and head towards his bedroom door. “I should go. Thanks for the shower and-” 

“Y/n don’t be ridiculous” he says quickly following me. “You can’t leave right now that storm is getting worse” He puts his hand on the door, shutting it. 

I turn and he is standing close enough to me to create an odd sort of tension. 

“Why don’t you get him back?” Rafe suggests as I roll my eyes.

“I don’t want to get back with him Rafe I’m so ov-” he cuts me off.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I mean get him back. As in revenge.” he says as he steps closer to me. Jesus Christ I’m an absolute idiot.

“Revenge…right.” I laugh awkwardly. He continues to inch closer, creating an even bigger amount of tension. Not that tension is an unfamiliar thing with Rafe and I. There has always been a weird tension between us. Ya know…the whole best friends brother thing. I’ve known Rafe for almost 10 years. Something about his cocky attitude has always been attractive to me. Call it toxic. I don’t care. It’s just the truth. Rafe and I are standing right infront of each other. He is towering over me as my back is still to the door. 

“You know…They say that one of the best ways to get over a guy is to get under another.” He almost whispers while moving my hair out of my face. I can’t help but blush. The thought of getting back at Topper crossed my mind the second he cheated on me. The thought of getting back at him by hooking up with his best friend? That’s even better. Rafe leans down and starts to kiss my neck. “Rafe we probably shouldn’t do this” I whisper clearly enjoying it.

“Of course we shouldn’t. But I do shit that I shouldn’t do all the time.” He stops kissing my neck to look me in the face.

“Me too” I nod letting out a breath as I crash my lips onto his. The kiss is instantly filled with an insane amount of intensity. Rafe backs me up against the wall as he deepens the kiss. He moves from my mouth to my neck, leaving hickeys all over. He is making sure that I can’t hide what we are doing. And I’m totally here for it. His hands move from my hair, to my hips, to underneath the hem of my shirt. Well. Technically his shirt. I’m braless since my bra got soaked in that rain earlier. He quickly realizes this as his hand grazes over my tits. He starts to grip them while kissing me, making me moan softly until he stops for a second. 

“As hot as you look in my shirt…it’s coming off” he nearly growls. I lift my arms as he lifts the shirt over my head and throws it across the room. I reach for his shirt to take it off. Once he takes it off his mouth is back on mine. Our foreheads are pressed together as our bare chests are rising and falling against each other. He hoists me up, grabbing my ass as I throw my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. We don’t last long against the wall before we move to the bed.

He lays me down on the edge of the bed as he hovers over me kissing me yet again. Each kiss gets more aggressive. We bite each other's lips between kisses. He moves his mouth from my lips to my neck leaving more marks. Slowly, he makes his way to my chests. The marks he makes get darker and darker. He puts his mouth over my nipple, making me moan as he slightly bites down. He quickly moves his hand up to cover my mouth.

“Shhh. Baby we gotta stay quiet.” He says as he moves from one nipple to the other. I moan into his hand as he stifles the sound that comes out. His hand moves from my mouth to my throat as he wraps his hand around it lightly. His lips meet mine again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” holy shit. I moan into our kiss as his hand is on my throat. His hand travels down my body until its hovering over my shorts. He’s moving his hand from one thigh to the other. Barely grazing the spot where I need him the most. I breathe into our kiss as his hand stops at the waistband of my shorts. He’s such a fucking tease. He hovers his hand there for a minute sensing that I want more. 

“Oh my God Rafe” I moan out of anticipation.

“You want more baby?” he smirks against my lips.

“You know I do” Smartass.

“Say less” he moves from his position above me, to kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed. He hooks his fingers around the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down, revealing my bare pussy. He pulls me closer to the edge of the bed and spreads my legs in one swift motion, causing my breath to hitch. He leans down and attaches his mouth to my clit. This of course causes another accidental moan to slip from my mouth. I immediately throw my own hands over my mouth to quiet the noise. His tongue is swirling circles over my clit as he inserts two fingers without warning. As hard as I am trying to stifle my sounds, nothing could stop the groan that I let out at this moment. He moves his fingers at a faster pace that matches what his tongue is doing. 

“Holy Shit Rafe.” I whine.

“You like that?” he smirks up at me. I nod and roll my eyes to the back of my head before shutting them tightly. But suddenly Rafe stops. “Open your eyes y/n. I want you to look at me when you cum. I want you to see who is making you feel this good.” I do as he says and open my eyes as I prop myself up on my elbows to get a better view. “Atta girl” He smirks before burying his face into me yet again. He adds a third finger as I throw my head back while remaining eye contact. He curls his fingers as he eats me out and I want to scream at the pressure building up inside of me. I reach forward and tangle my fingers through his hair as he grins up towards me. 

“Rafe! Oh my God” I let out a string of other soft noises and words.

“Go ahead baby. Cum for me,” I look Rafe in the eyes as I jerk my hips and arch my back, completely unraveling in front of him. As he removes his fingers from inside of me, he brings them up to my mouth. “I want you to see how good you taste.” he says as I take his fingers into my mouth until they are clean. He removes his fingers from my mouth and laces his hands through my hair as he devours me with a kiss. 

“That was incredible.” I breathe heavily.

“Oh we aren’t done yet princess.” the sound of him calling me princess was enough to nearly send me over the edge again. 

“I’d hope not” I tangle my tongue with his as he deepens the kiss by pulling my hair back. I reach for his pants and I undo his belt. 

“Eager are we?” he scoffs, pulling away for a moment. He removes his belt and  his pants. Leaving his boxers for me to remove. I gesture for him to sit on the edge of the bed where I just was. When he sits, I climb onto his lap, straddling him over his boxers. I can tease too. I lean in kissing him as I slowly start to rock back and forth on his lap. I can feel him getting harder by the second. To be honest this is doing just as much for me as it is for him. I start to kiss his neck, leaving marks similar to the ones he left on me. I start to rock faster back and forth until he is letting out moans the way I was. I cover his mouth.

“I thought we had to stay quiet.” I give him a sly smile before kneeling on the floor and removing his boxers. I come face to face with his cock as I run my tongue up the side, looking up at him while I do it. I move my tongue to the other side slowly, taking my sweet time. 

“Fuck y/n” Rafe groans as he places his hand in my hair. 

I wrap my mouth around the head of his cock and start to suck slowly, using my hands to work the rest that I can’t fit in my mouth. I bob my head up and down while I look up at him, my eyes are starting to water. He grabs my head and slightly pushes me down further, and I can feel his tip hit my throat. When it does Rafe lets out a deep moan with a mumbled string of “oh fucks”. After a few minutes, I can sense that he is going to cum. I don’t bother asking where he wants to finish before he finishes in my mouth. I swallow and look up at him with a smile.

“Holy shit. You really know what you’re doing.” He lets out a heavy content sigh. “We still aren't done yet. I need to be inside you.” He says laying me back down on the bed. I still cannot believe that this is happening. 

Rafe wastes no time climbing on top of me leaving sloppy kisses up my chest and meeting my mouth with his. “You sure about this?” He looks down at me.

“Never been more sure about anything.” I nod. 

“Good” He says as he grabs a condom from his nightstand and puts it on. Seconds later, he is lining himself up at my entrance. His tongue plunges into my mouth as he enters inside of me. His cock stretched my pussy perfectly. He moves with smooth motions leaving us both moaning into each other's mouths as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. He brings his hand to my throat once again,barely applying pressure, making me let out a moan that was too loud to be stifled. He doesn’t seem to care. 

“You like when my hands are around your neck?” He whispers in my ear.

“Yes! Oh my god yes” I am starting to get louder. He moves his hand from my throat to my mouth to keep me quiet again. I moan into his hand as his thrusts hit the perfect spot inside of me. He can tell that he has hit the spot when my hips start to buck in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. I am almost screaming into his hand. As he leans down to kiss me again. 

“You gonna cum with me?” he asks, pressing his forehead against mine. I nod unable to speak, to stop myself from screaming. “Words y/n. Use your words” 

“Fuck yes. I’m gonna cum!” I whine out. He thrusts in and out a few more times, hitting the spot perfectly making me squirm underneath him. With one final thrust, I arch my back as I scratch my nails down his, definitely leaving scratch marks. We cum simultaneously as we let out deep and hungry moans into each other's mouths. He just gave me the best orgasm I have ever had. He pulled out and laid next to me.

“Holy shit. I’ve waited so long to do that.” he says looking at me out of breath.

“Me too. I always had a crush on you ya know.” I say looking at him equally as out of breath.

“Yeah I know.” He smiles and lets out a soft chuckle.

“Took you long enough to do something about it.” I laugh back.

“Thank God I did. And I plan on doing it again. Just so you know.” I winked at me 

“I’d hope so.” I smile, laying there next to him. He was right. That was the best way to get over someone. 

** hi! I really hope you liked this. If you did and want to see more let me know what you want to see! I had fun writing this and in my many many years of writing fanfics this is somehow my first time writing smut so I hope it was okay lol ❤️

[goqmir]

hey magic the gatheringers, ive been rebuilding my favorite edh decks and hyperfixating on them lately so i just wanted to make a pretty lil post about them offering them to anyone who wants to play em :) these are my favorite decks right now and ive just run through and adjusted the decklists of all of them in the last couple days so they're fresh and ready to perform <3

the first deck is Rocco Cast From Exile!

the third rework of this decklist with the new cards from CLU really cemented that this is my favorite deck i've ever made. Rocco, Street Chef plays kingpin to a unique Naya value pile built around playing cards from exile!

this deck is similar to Prosper, who is unfortunately the face of Cast From Exile-- but unlike Prosper, this commander and the other options for CFE payoffs you get in Naya are super interesting and cool :) you get [[Feldorn]], [[Pia Nalaar]], [[Quintorius Kand]], as well as fun cheapening effects like [[Liara Portyr]] and [[Tlincalli Hunter]] on top of the delightful cascade effects green gets!

you also get to play around with +1/+1 counters (Rocco might be the best commander of all time at like... putting +1/+1s on specific individual creatures honestly??) and the magic that is food tokens (which are getting stronger and stronger each passing set). furthermore, Rocco impulse draws for your opponents, which means you get to encourage them to make tough decisions! do they play their combo piece from exile, feeding your deck? (Rocco is so efficient that they will soon learn that the answer to that question is almost always no... but you can always pretend that you're playing group hug and giving them free cards until they figure that out!)

this deck gets a lot of mana and builds up a monstrous board state very quickly. as far as individual value pieces go, be on the lookout for [[Jaheria, Friend of the Forest]], [[Inspiring Statuary]], and [[Night of the Sweets' Revenge]] for ways to make an unreal amount of mana. [[Herd Baloth]] and [[Faldorn]] will get you tokens for every card played from exile, and i would say are the main things giving you a monstrous board. don't sleep on the cascaders and thieves either-- every extra card obtained from things like [[Bloodbraid Elf]] or the Etalis net you another Cast From Exile trigger!

Naya Cast From Exile is weird and awesome and I highly recommend playing and building in this design space :) there's a lot of Naya CFE cards that work but I cut from the deck, and they give us more cards and commanders for the archetype all the time. this is definitely my favorite deck i've ever made <3

the second deck i'd like to show off is my Oloro Control decklist!

i've always been the interaction player at the table. you might find that these decklists are a bit heavy on the interaction for you actually-- i truly believe disruption is like. so important. especially when you're playing for value rather than combos like i do ^_^

so here is my dedicated Esper Control decklist! Oloro is there to keep you topped off and to draw you cards-- by playing this deck it really does net you anywhere from 10-40 extra life in a given game in my experience just by playing him. and the card draw on Oloro is pretty insane, enabling you to find the necessary ramp and bombs to end the game after you've disrupted every combo at the table :) personally i don't like Oloro the character very much at all-- don't know why, but he's a little difficult for me to look at. i personally have a custom proxy that replaces Oloro with Grusha :3

this Control deck is all about gaining slow and steady value while ensuring the bad things aren't sent your way. there are some stax pieces here, but not very strict ones-- your goal is to remain innocuous while you get the mana and cards to play your bombs and your opponents hopefully go at each other. the bombs in question are things like [[Debt to the Deathless]], [[Expropriate]], [[Torment of Hailfire]], planeswalkers like [[Sorin Markov]], and creatures that amass you value quickly like [[Drogskol Reaver]] and [[Sunscorch Regent]]. you gain life, shut down your opponents, and force unwinnable situations or knock out opponents with big bombs. it's fun!

the third deck is Vadrok Inevitable Betrayal Combo!

Vadrok here is the final fruit of my obsession with the 0 cmc suspend cards I went through a few months back. after toying with pretty much ever one in turn, Vadrok is the one that stuck around because he plays so interestingly and truly warps your table's metagame if you bring him out enough times.

let's get into the weeds: the combo here is a pretty simple one-- Vadrok is one of (and the only legendary) engine that allows you to play cards from your graveyard without exiling them after, done by mutating. [[Inevitable Betrayal]] is a 0 mana cost blue spell that takes a creature from an opponent's deck and puts it onto the battlefield under your control. The combo, then, is a gradual one: use a spell to discard Inevitable Betrayal, and mutate onto Vadrok. each mutate plays Inevitable Betrayal for free, allowing you to cheat out an opponent's creature each time. this is strong.

the deck features a suite of tutors, a variety of ways to discard cards, and every mutate card in Jeskai (except the one whose mutate cost is six mana :P). the combo is surprisingly low to the ground and quick, allowing for turn one/two discards and turn three Vadrok mutates at times. however, it's often worth waiting to mutate Vadrok onto a creature with Hexproof to ensure little interruption as you swarm the board with your opponents' best hits.

this deck, of course, relies heavily on your opponents' decks then. which is why this deck is so metagame-warping-- even at more casual tables, you'll probably see your friends take their funny eldrazi and craterhoofs out of their decks because you're so prone to winning with them. personally, i find that delightful! i tend to cycle deck usage anyway, so it's cute to steal a bunch of things for a couple weeks, have my opponents edit their decklists to remove my hits, lose interest in the deck, and come back a couple months later and steal the good hits in their new decks, repeat :) its fun having a deck that warps metagames with its presence alone.

the final deck id like to talk about is my Silvar and Trynn Humans decklist!

mardu is delightful and for the longest time i couldn't find a mardu commander i ever wanted to build! finally though, i stumbled across these two :) the art on them is so gorgeous! i love ikoria.

this deck is very fun! the only typal deck on the list, humans is a very fun type to build around and you get access to so many bangers in mardu. this deck is all about building a board of as many humans as you possibly can, then sacking them all to put 17 +1/+1 counters on Silvar and start swinging for commander lethal. how that is done is different every game, with so many fun human pieces and interaction pieces that each game feels very distinctly different from the last more so than any of the other decks discussed on this post. furthermore, mardu offers my favorite interaction suite of all time, so it's always a pleasure to play with.

teehee anyway thats my decks ive been hyperfixating on! feel free to give em a try :) sqrrk!!

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

Hey, this is a post that got buried in our account at some point, but I'm very curious about what you think about the German aspects of Shidou's medical history!

(Sorry for being the third Shidou person lol)

-Venus

Wow you're all gonna drag me kicking and screaming into liking Shidou huh? He's already going up in the rankings lol.

Anyways, I'm gonna be honest, as cool a find as it is, I have zero idea what the deal with the German is. Shidou very clearly worked in a Japanese hospital, as seen in Throw Down.

Notice the green signs in the background are written in... well I assume it's Japanese it's gonna be real awkward if that's some other language lol. They’re not the only ones btw, they’re just the clearest.

So it's unlikely he was doing his work in Germany unless he moved his wife's body there after her accident or something, but as much as Shidou's sotryline plays fast and loose with the science of it all, I highly doubt that would work in the slightest.

Now, after some research, turns out Japanese medicine does take some words from German, though it’s most commonly used by older generations and for obstetric (related to pregnancy I think) and gynecologic practice, which isn’t quite what we’re dealing with here. We’re listing completely unrelated organs.

German used to be frequently employed in Japanese obstetric and gynecologic (OBGYN) practice; however, it is now less frequently used. Source.

There are a few other words of German origin, which you can find listed here (CW for a few potentially uncomfortable words, especially related to WWII and medicine). You’ll see there’s quite a few medical terms there, but none of them match what’s on the tag. At least it explains why Shidou knows German in the first place, which is honestly a really cool detail!

I also thought about maybe his wife being German, but I don't think that works either. As stated in an interrogation question (T2 Q17), Shidou and his wife began dating in middle school, and they were family friends (T2 Q16) so it's likely their parents knew each other before they were born, and thus were likely in the same country. The only option I see is both of them being born in Germany, then moving to Japan, but they can't have spent much time there otherwise Shidou should have a higher level than "conversation level" German (T2 Q4). Are their parents German then? What- Why would we need to know this?

Other than that, yeah I’m struggling a bit on this one. Was he writing in German to hide what he was doing from the doctors who didn’t speak German? That’s too silly though. I think the best answer is what was brought up in the rb you linked, that it’s just meant to lead us into thinking of that scandal in Germany so as to get a better idea of what Shidou was doing. That or just Shidou flexing that Japanese-German medicine connection.

Apart from that, regarding some of the other things from the thread you linked. I think the tags being triage tags could certainly work! Especially the things from, well, Triage, since they seem to have a slightly different design, though that could be me going insane. It certainly makes more sense with the “cards of promise” thing, since triage tags carry a more concrete promise than… morgue tags? (don’t know what they’re called).

And the 007 in the back of the tags, I’m not sure if it actually has any medical meaning, but it could have a symbolic meaning.

The number seven has also ingrained itself into both the celebration of life and the mourning of death in Japan. After a baby is born its birth is celebrated on its seventh day of life, conversely after someone's death there is seven days of mourning, then they are mourned once again seven weeks after the death. Source.

So it could represent mourning for the people Shidou has killed, while also representing the hope for his wife’s rebirth. Something like that, maybe.

Or maybe prisoner 007 Kazui was the one who caused the accident /j

Anyways, hope that was good enough! Thanks for the ask, take care!

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Hey guys, I was having thoughts on the meta-side of the Dream SMP. Okay, so we know that Technoblade has done much of the scripting for this present arc, Tommy, Dream and Quackity have also done some in collaboration, presumably doing each of their own characters and motivations, and Tubbo and Fundy have also been involved too. Uh, this will be rambly as it’s a lot of unsorted observations.

Obviously these are my thoughts, and ideas purely based on my observations as a viewer but you can definitely tell that they’re all very aware of the fanbase and are likely very influenced by them. I could see this even in the Pogtopia arc where Tommy started reusing phrases before when debating ethics with Wilbur, eg ‘let’s lose as winners, not win as losers.’ or something along those lines and how Techno made a callback to his only universal language is violence speech in his wither monologue. 

But wow, the scripting is definitely becoming a lot more obvious in this new season of the SMP. Not a bad thing at all, by the way, it’s just a difference. Clearly they’ve gotten more detailed plans and are more ambitious with what they convey in minecraft, with more players taking inspiration from Wilbur after how well he executed it. It’s also the difference in how the various people write, I’m sure. 

Tommy and Tubbo have streamed the SMP for the longest and have very gradually evolved into the roleplaying and their respective approaches to it are very interesting. Tubbo’s streams are typically chill and usually involve him working on some sort of project - he’s very chaotic when with other people but is usually very reactionary when it comes to the roleplaying - doing most of his best stuff when bouncing off Tommy, or occasionally Quackity. On his own he doesn’t like to lead bits but is among the best at making other people’s bits work. Same with the RP! His character’s in a weird spot right now as the other writer’s seem to be writing him in quite an unflattering way and he doesn’t do solo, emotional performances all that much meaning he’s less sympathetic right now then he really should be. Like, Tommy garnered loads of sympathy during his exile as he gave a very expressive performance where Tubbo’s character also presumably feels very isolated and alone and he’s being manipulated by the people around him but he gives a lot less. This has made it easier for the audience to start siding more with Technoblade, the literal mass-murderer, over the traumatised kid who was manipulated into exiling his best friend and continues to face terrible choices with no good options.

 While I can of course make less meta theories on why Tubbo should be appreciated more and what it says he’s got no real support and is compartmentalising his problems, in the end it’s how his streams work. Tubbo does plot related streams, and he does streams where he simply vibes - and even in the serious streams, he can joke around and cheerfully lampshade the goofiness by doing things like joking about wanting a good review from Techno while kidnapping him - that stuff is priceless and does not fit into the melodramtic scripts but it adds so much to the SMP and why it is so much fun to watch. Tubbo’s really good at making content better! He’s not afraid to look ridiculous, he will also unapologetically avoid engaging in too much melodrama himself when he doesn’t feel like it. I consider his character highly underrated in the plot right now.

Tommy knows what he’s doing. Even before the roleplaying really took off, Tommy liked to play a character and lead bits and the SMP shifting in a more scripted direction suited him exceptionally well. Tommy focuses heavily on streams with lots of content, only rarely doing more chill stuff - especially more recently. He has always approached streams with a plan - but usually their extremely loose and he has said that he’d sometimes just come up with an idea 10 minutes before the stream and improvise from there. Tommy’s good at improvising and seems to work best with a very loose plan. Where I think Techno likely came up with the plan for Tommy to get exiled from L’Manburg and then join forces with him, Tommy likely filled in how to play his character and - wow.

Tommy’s writing seems to be incredibly simple - each exile stream had no major plot points or anything and the plans that are there don’t even make logical sense (let’s throw a party in one day and let’s invite everyone but have Dream not send out the invitations so no one shows up - and I’m going to do this even with Philza and Fundy literally in the call.) but Tommy pulled every one of them off very well and proved to be compelling enough that no one cared at all whether the plot made sense nor did Tommy make much effort to justify that sort of thing - ‘cause he knows how the SMP works and how much the audience will go along with it. And instead, Tommy focused entirely on his characterisation and spent all his time exploring it. That’s how Tommy works - very simple plans, then improv in character into an engaging bit. He’s managed to pull off the most ridiculous things like that, and has confidence that the other streamers will support it - that’s how he’s prepared to try insane things like pretending to be Clarencio the llama. And, like Tubbo, he’s always willing to throw for content. 

Then there’s Technoblade. He’s streamed the SMP a lot less - though he’s done so much more recently - but he’s spent a lot more time playing on the SMP, doing tons of grinding. He here for the RP but is also committed to playing the game itself very optimally. He seems to have a much larger view, taking in the bigger picture, of the story where Tommy has a very personal view. His approach to content is all about the fanservice. 

He’s always trying to create big epic, moments, that both look and sound awesome. Like the butcher’s army plotline which let him both seem like an underdog, a victim against a mean group, and also an incredible badass figure who outplayed them all and came out as victorious. The butcher’s army were really given an antagonists role there, and were really made to seem unlikeable. Then he met up with fan-favourite Tommy and suggested a team-up with him. (This is also leading to the ultimate fanservice that is the Sleepybois team-up.) Techno’s got a very, dry self-aware sens of humour too and he’ll often make simple meta observations about the SMP - like noting that the pacing’s fast or teasing in the chat in the middle of wars. He’s also made himself into a bit of a meme what with logging just to say his name and leave. 

I don’t know how much it’s just Techno of course, but the plot really seems to be heading in a direction that suggesting that Technoblade was Right. L’Manburg’s seeming corrupt, and Tommy is being seen as Theseus. At the time Techno first made the Theseus speech, I felt like the comparison seemed unfair - but now it’s like the plot itself has bent over to make the comparison make sense, and Techno’s one of the writers of the script. Techno also of course, prepared a vault to show Tommy so he could say ‘welcome home Theseus dramatically - total fanservice as fans were indeed talking about how cool saying a line would be, and then he absolutely did. The way Techno calls his viewers chatting as the voices in his head is also fanservice. It’s not like actually true, as Techno ignores the chat if they tell him information his character doesn’t know and meanwhile all the streamers interact with their chat too - so all chats have always been a part of the story and calling them canon is absolutely meaningless. Not a bad thing though - it is nice and makes the fans happy and makes them feel included. I don’t know if this sounds critical by the way - it’s not meant as such at all - all the streamers love engaging with the fandom, and Techno’s approach to giving lots of fanservice by providing so many epic moments is great. I just wanted to highlight it. 

And those were some meta thoughts on the SMP right now and its writing. I don’t really think I had a point or argument. I just wanting to make some observations and my impressions. If you’re curious I am course a Tommy fan first. I love how he’s evolved with the SMP most of all and I appreciate his character-driven storytelling. His main weakness is probably getting too into bits and going too far and it’s so nice that the SMP is a place where even his weaker ideas are supported rather than shut down. I like how he’s able to improv so well and simply how he streams. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I love Tubbo best when he’s with Tommy as they bring the best performances out of each other. I find Techno interesting as a contrast to both of them, as he approaches so many things in such a different way. 

[wickedmilo]

HYPOTHETICALLY | MILO & MORGAN

PLACE: Outside White Crest University TIMING: 10:05 PM SUMMARY: Milo approaches his old professor to ask her some suspiciously specific but definitely ‘hypothetical’ questions WRITING PARTNER: @mor-beck-more-problems CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug mentions, addiction mentions, mild references to PTSD

Milo felt a little ridiculous. It was beyond stupid to assume any professor had knowledge of the supernatural beyond what was taught on the curriculum, but he had been spending a lot of time around the university building due to his newfound friendship with Orion. And so many memories were resurfacing, memories of lectures on vampires, and discussions on werewolves. Presentations on witches, and how their representation in mainstream media was problematic. It was highly unlikely this focus meant anything more than Professor Beck had a secret love of Twilight. Honestly, absolutely nothing would surprise him at this point. But he had to try, he needed to try. Every day his control was growing stronger, albeit in incredibly small increments. But the work had to count for something, and settling into his new life was leaving him with far too much time to think. He still couldn’t remember very much of his death, and certainly no incriminating details that might lead him to discover the identity of his killer. But he did know the club had been crowded, he did know the nightlife was often frequented by students.  

It had been burning at the back of his mind, leaving him restless, and uncomfortable. With no culprit, with no sire to name, he couldn’t blame anybody but himself for his situation. Maybe if he could look into the eyes of the person who had taken his life, if he could ask them why they had decided to turn him, he could lift the weight from his shoulders, he could finally stop feeling responsible in some twisted, and soul destroying way. Sure, he had made a dumb, and reckless decision. His entire life had been composed of them for years. But that didn’t mean he deserved to die. That didn’t mean he deserved to be broken, and abandoned. Left to figure things out on his own. Night had only just fallen, and he didn’t trust himself to slip into the school building unnoticed when there were still so many people around. So he waited outside like some crazy stalker. He probably counted as one, who was he kidding? He had looked up the schedule for Beck’s classes online in the hope of catching her on her way to the parking lot. She had technically finished her final lecture but part of him was worried she might end up working overtime. Wasn’t that something professors liked to do? The last thing he wanted was to stand for hours, staring at the patch of grass where Dani had last attacked him.  

But for the first time in a long time, something seemed to go right. Dropping his cigarette to the floor, he recognised Beck as she hurried down the stone steps, and immediately began to make his way towards her. He wasn’t sure whether she would recognise him from her classes. He had graduated a year ago, and even then his attendance had been unreliable. When he did decide to make an appearance it was always smelling of pot, or coming down from the previous night’s substance of choice. “Professor Beck!” He called. “Uh, Morgan Beck?” Could he call her that? It felt weird, even though he was no longer one of her students. “Hey- I’m sorry, it’s- it’s Milo… Summers. You probably don’t remember me, but I was in your class a while back and I was wondering if I could maybe ask you some questions?”  

Morgan didn’t like to stay late on campus anymore. She thanked the mother of earth for longer days, but time still got away from her now and then. When Morgan noticed the darkening sky this time, she thought she heard the hunter child stepping out of a room, knife raised. Quickly, she threw her things into her bag and started hurrying out the building. She couldn’t figure out if she would be safer going down the service stairs or trying to chase some straggler students to walk with for safety and so zig zagged through each. As she came out on the main floor, she saw a group of boys outside the big lecture hall. They looked like they were about to leave, and maybe she could walk close enough behind them but it would only be safe if they really were just students. Hunters didn’t go in packs on campus, did they? If she found any like that, would she even stand a chance? How far would she get before they pinned her down? How loud would she have to scream for anyone to come running? Morgan tripped on the stone steps out the building as she rushed past them.  

She was moving so fast she didn’t see the other boy loitering nearby and when he called her name she screamed, backing away. But she knew this face. “M-milo,” she wheezed, trying to force air back into her lungs. “You startled me. I’m sorry.” She winced. “It’s good to see you again. I thought you graduated, though?” That wasn’t relevant. Morgan waved away the rest with her hand. “What is it that I can help you with, exactly? I’m heading home right now, to my family. They’re already expecting me. So, we can walk and talk, huh?” She looked briefly at the walkways that cut through the arts quad and set her sights on the one crowded with the most people. Not closest to the parking lot, but she could worry about that part later. “Scenic route sound good?” 

Milo flinched, almost stumbling backwards at the sheer force of the sound. Morgan’s scream seemed to echo in his ears and for a moment he took the time to curse his new heightened senses. “Fuck-” He breathed, staring at his old professor with a look of shock of his face. If he still needed oxygen he knew he would be catching his breath right about now. He shouldn’t judge really, there could be any number of reasons she was so easily scared. But it was the last reaction he had been expecting from her, and therefore the last reaction he had been prepared for. “No shit, I startled you.” He laughed, calming down after such a jarring response to his presence. In a way, it almost worked out. The distraction was making it far too easy not to dwell on why he was here, on what he was about to ask. “Yeah, last year.” He agreed, weirdly flattered that she remembered him although he doubted she didn’t have fond memories.  

At the mention of her family, he felt an unexpected pang of guilt. Maybe it wasn’t fair to approach her after work. If there had been any other way to do this, he liked to think he would have made the effort to find it. “I’m sorry,” he insisted. “We can walk and talk, it won’t take long.” He wasn’t sure why he was promising that when he couldn’t possibly know, but it felt like the right thing to say. “Uh…” A frown creased his brow as he eyed the route she was choosing to the parking lot. Something was definitely bothering her, but it wasn’t exactly his place to try and figure out what. “Sure?” He said, unable to hide the fact that he was a little confused by her behaviour. Brushing off any concern, he pushed down every part of himself not entirely convinced this was a good idea. He needed to find who had done this to him. Letting it go simply wasn’t an option, and Morgan Beck was his first lead. “I have some questions about- well, about the supernatural.”  

Morgan tried to cover her fright with a knowing laugh. This is fine! I’m definitely not freshly traumatized! The important thing was that Milo had agreed to walk with her along a nice, busy, public route with lots of witnesses. She made a point of waving to a faculty member as they walked. She didn’t know the woman, but she waved back awkwardly, trying to place Morgan in her head, and would therefore maybe remember her and who she was last seen with. She was so busy looking for someone else to spot her, someone she actually knew who might care a little bit, she almost missed Milo’s question. “The--supernatural? Like, um, one of the texts we studied? Or a project you’re doing on your own? Or--” Or the real thing. Including who and what she was. “Maybe if you could, uh, be more specific, I’ll know if I can help.” 

Unable to tear his gaze away from Morgan, her odd behaviour was becoming increasingly obvious to Milo. But he wasn’t sure pushing her to explain what was wrong would help either of them. If anything, it would probably result in her running from him, and he was so desperate for answers to his questions he couldn’t bring himself to risk it. If she continued to look so genuinely frightened, he would ask her before he left. Until then, he decided he would do his best to ignore the waves, the long routes, and the stumbling over her words. “Uh, no… not really.” He admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “More like… whether you believe in it?” He mentally prepared himself for any number of reactions, namely laughter, or claims of his insanity. If there was a more subtle way of asking, one that didn’t make him sound like a conspiracy theorist, he would jump on it. But as far as he could tell, this was the only real way of being direct. “Look, I know it sounds…” Crazy, ridiculous, insane, like a terrible fucking joke. “I know it does- I’m only curious. You focused on it a lot in your lectures, you know?” 

He didn’t sound like he was goading her, Morgan had to admit. If he was a hunter, he sounded a lot more nervous than he had any reason to be. At last she slowed and turned to look at him beside her. She had killed too many people to believe she could tell what a murderer looked like. But he didn’t look like he was cutting her open in his mind. He looked sad, maybe even desperate. 

“I did, yeah,” she admitted quietly. “I believe in a lot of things most people don’t. Including a lot of the things I talked about in class. Not in the way, exactly, they’re portrayed in books. But those...ideas, those figures, those people…” She looked sidelong at Milo again. “I know of a lot more resources than novels written by humans. What is it that you’re afraid of telling me, Milo?”

Slowing to Morgan’s pace, Milo continued to watch her, almost analysing her to determine what was causing her so much stress. It was impossible to know, not without her telling him, but this town had thrown an impossible amount of shit his way, and he was beginning to realise he wasn’t the only person to fall victim to the Weird of White Crest. Was Morgan Beck stressed? Or had she seen something? Maybe something she wasn’t supposed to see? Surprised by her sudden shift in demeanour, her voice was quiet when she spoke again, and it forced him to focus. The panic of before seemed to fade away, replaced by a genuine softness that he remembered from her lectures. He hadn’t been expecting an immediate yes, and he couldn’t hide the fact that it had taken him by surprise, but he was immensely relieved to realise they might be on the same page... sort of. “Wait- you do?” He echoed, as though he needed confirmation before being able to accept what he was hearing. “You believe in the supernatural? You’re not fucking with me?” If he had been unsure of this meeting before, he was finally convinced he had approached the right person. She clearly wasn’t going to judge him, and she was willing to answer him honestly. That was good.

People. The word was emphasised in a way that only furthered his suspicion. It almost sounded as though she had argued with others in the past, debated whether supernatural creatures counted as people, or whether they should be written off as monsters. Nearly getting lost in thought, it took him a few seconds to register Morgan’s own question, and he came to a sudden halt, eyes wide as he was hit by the implications of what she was asking him. How did she know there was more to this conversation? How did she know there was more to who he was now? Reaching absentmindedly to rub at the base of his neck, the scars there were incredibly faint, barely noticeable to anybody who wouldn’t be able to recognise them for what they were. They were evidence of his struggle, of his change, a reminder of everything he had lost. Feeling them beneath his fingertips encouraged him to stay. If he left then he wasn’t going to learn anything, and he would be no closer to finding the person responsible for taking his life. “Nothing.” He insisted, a breathless laugh escaping him as he did everything he could to sound casual. “I mean- I just wanted to ask, you know? It doesn’t- it doesn’t mean anything. I don’t have anything to hide- I mean, I’m not hiding anything. This is all… strictly hypothetical.” 

Morgan didn’t miss the way Milo changed as soon as he heard her answer. She winced with guilt, remembering how upset Bex had been when she’d tried to deny the whole zombie regeneration thing. “I...do. Yes. I’m not fucking with you.” In a fairer world, this wouldn’t have to be such a fraught conversation, or a secret one. She wouldn’t have to wonder if one of her students was about to hurt her, or if she was walking into some sort of normie joke, or something else equally dangerous and stupid. 

Milo must have been making the same calculations in his head, because no sooner did she do that than did he backpedal away from her follow up questions. 

“I appreciate the whole ‘hypothetical’ thing, Milo, I do. But if you know something or saw something, if something happened to you…” She let out a long, stiff breath. “I’m not going to give you any shit if it happens to be something I’ve never heard of before. But I’ve had a year into the weird side of this town, so I’m pretty hard to surprise. Actually, you know what, I dare you to surprise me, hypothetically or not.”

Milo fell silent, too curious to know what his old professor wanted to say, but also too anxious to trust himself to speak without taking any time to filter his thoughts. It was uncomfortable, navigating such a strange conversation. He felt a little like he was walking on a tightrope. If he fell too far one way, he might never get the answer he was looking for. If he fell too far the other way, he might out himself as a vampire and potentially put himself in danger. A smile tugging at his lips, despite everything, he couldn’t help feeling amused by hearing a member of staff swear so openly. The humour very rapidly faded though, when he was reminded of why they were talking. If something happened to you… He wanted to ask whether something had happened to her, but he couldn’t seem to form the words. That wasn’t why he was here. He didn’t want to talk about what he was, he didn’t want to be asked about what he was. “Nothing happened to me.” He insisted, sounding more confident in the statement than he previously had, but answering too quickly to be convincing. “I told you, it’s hypothetical.” 

He wasn’t sure his company was going to believe him, but so long as he didn’t prove anything, so long as he didn’t outright admit anything to Morgan, then he was safe, right? She would write him off as weird, or overly curious, and nothing more. At least, that’s what he told himself in order to force out what he really wanted to discuss. “Okay… hypothetically,” he started, his voice slow as he attempted to gauge her reaction to his words. “Do you think there might be vampires at this college, and hypothetically, do you think these vampires maybe sometimes go to the bars and clubs downtown?”

Whatever lingering fears Morgan had about Milo being a hunter or hunter-adjacent fell away as he stumbled through his question. When he finally came out with it, she had to stop herself from smirking with how banal it turned out to be. “Hypothetically, yes,” she said. “Easily. I would be more surprised if there weren’t any, with how reckless and vulnerable undergrads are. And, hypothetically, vampires would just be people with an unfortunately limited appetite and sunlight aversion, so of course they’d do all the normal things people do. Maybe even be a part of night life even more. I mean, unless, you know, they hypothetically popped out of the grave as grr-argh spawn-y times. Because that’s, you know...possibly a thing.” Stars above, she hated this. 

At last Morgan stopped and turned to face Milo head on. “Milo, are you trying to say you maybe met a vampire at a club? Because if you met a vampire at a club and you like them and want to keep talking to them, there’s nothing wrong with that, you just need to have really clear communication and honesty to make you’re being careful with each other.”

The sense of satisfaction Milo felt when Morgan said yes was short lived. He had somebody who was telling him it was very possible the vampire who attacked him was attending the uni, or otherwise, might be an alumni. But he had been so focused on this step, he wasn’t sure how to move forward. What did he do with this now? Where did he go from here? Spawn-y. Huh. It wasn’t a term he had stumbled across and he was itching to ask what she meant, but sounding too eager would be counterproductive. He made a mental note to ask Harsh instead, adding it to the list already forming in his head. He really should start writing down his questions. No doubt the older vampire wouldn’t mind taking the time to answer them. Glancing up at the stars too, he frowned, unable to help himself. ‘Normal people’ because he was no longer normal. Because being supernatural wasn’t normal. 

It was only when she spoke again that he was pulled back out of his thoughts, and he turned to look at Morgan with outright disbelief. She was being so casual, she didn’t seem worried about sounding insane, or obsessed like some desperate Twilight fangirl. She was talking about vampires like she knew they existed, like they were unquestionably real, a part of every day life, and it was just that simple. She seemed to be relaxing somewhat, which was why he allowed a laugh to escape him. Jeez, how much easier would his life be right now if she was right? If his biggest problem was knowing a vampire... “Why do you talk like that?” He asked finally, unable to help himself. “Like you’re so sure it all exists? I haven’t met a vampire, because they aren’t real… right? Like, nobody has met a vampire.” She wasn’t going to agree with him after so readily admitting she believed in their existence, but he was trying to avoid any further suspicion. “I’m just… I just wanted to know what you thought. So, hypothetically… and not for- not for like, malicious reasons, if somebody wanted to find a vampire, do you know how would they go about doing that?” 

Morgan looked at Milo, unimpressed with his two steps forward, one step back pace. “You asked me what I thought and I told you I believe in a lot of weird shit. Why are you so surprised when I follow up with the truth? And I know it’s a struggle, working through your pride and your fear on one side and how much you want this information on the other side. Because people are rude and awful and having what you know about the world turned upside down is one heck of a process. But I don’t like talking about this stuff in detail until I know what it’s for. Or if, you know, hypothetically, it’s someone’s elaborate attempt to get something for their Tiktok feed. But, hypothetically, continuing from the premise that vampires are like people but dead and with blood and sun problems, finding one would probably depend on the vampire, wouldn’t it?” She looked at him archly, daring him to come clean.

Milo frowned, realising his bullshit was apparently transparent. He had never been a terrible liar, usually his lack of sobriety depended on being able to lie. But maybe things were different now, maybe too much was riding on this particular conversation. “I don’t have any pride.” He countered. “Or fear.” He added hurriedly, not wanting Morgan to assume he might be afraid. He wasn’t afraid, he refused to be afraid. As far as he was concerned, the person he was trying to find had already done their worst. Setting his jaw, he listened to her assurances, too frustrated by the fact that she was onto him to really appreciate her words. 

“Why would you care what it’s for?” He asked, wondering whether she knew more than he had first assumed. For a while, he had been under the impression she had seen something. Something to make her suspect, something to make her believe. Nothing more than that. But what if it was more than that? What if she knew someone? Or what if she wasn’t human herself? He had so many burning questions, but he knew it would be stupid to ask them. “Can we hypothetically say it’s for a book I’m writing?”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Because the right information in the wrong hands can get people killed,” she replied evenly. “And no, a book isn’t good enough. I’m sorry. I get that you’re not ready to trust me. You weren’t exactly up in my office hours all the time. But I can’t talk about something like this in detail on a hypothetical that vague and tired. I’ve even used that one before.” She came close and squeezed his shoulder gently, softening again. “When you’re ready to talk, know I’m going to probably believe you, or at least listen attentively in good faith to what you have to say.” She winced, another obvious idea coming to her. “Unless you really are writing a book. In which case I fully support your writing endeavours, but I can’t ethically disclose certain information for your research. But I’ll read your drafts or whatever else you might want my help with!” She looked into his eyes, searching. She had no idea what was wrong with this kid, why he was so worked up about this that he’d come back to campus to find her, but she had a feeling it wasn’t anything nice or happy. “Are you taking good care of yourself, this stuff aside?”

Realistically, Milo knew he should appreciate Morgan’s discretion. In withholding the information, she was stopping people from getting to it who might genuinely be trying to harm vampires, to seek them out and hurt them. She was essentially protecting him, although hopefully she didn’t know that. Still, all he could feel was annoyance, and anger. He was so close to somebody who might be able to help him, who probably could help him, but he couldn’t tell her what he was. It didn’t feel right to be so outwardly open. The few people who knew had found out through means of their own. They were supernatural themselves, or they were Hunters, and Slayers. He had yet to volunteer the information, and doing so with somebody he barely knew felt like a ridiculous risk to take. It went against everything Harsh had told him about how to stay out of trouble. Glaring at her when she rested a hand on his shoulder, he begrudgingly took a breath so that she wouldn’t be able to feel the unnatural stillness of his chest. 

“I know you’re going to believe me, that’s the fucking problem.” He muttered, shrugging off her contact. “Fuck the ethics.” He continued, growing more frustrated with each passing second. “I already told you this isn’t malicious, what more do you want from me? It isn’t like I’m asking for a step by step guide on how to kill vampires, that isn’t why I’m here.” A bitter laugh escaping him when she asked him if he was taking care of himself, he wasn’t sure why it mattered. She wasn’t willing to help him, why should she give a shit about his wellbeing? “No.” He admitted, a petulant edge to his voice. “Self care isn’t really my thing.” 

“The fucking ethics are how we survive!” Morgan hissed. Then, realizing what she’d done, she added quickly, “All of us. Normie, not-normie, living, undead, everyone. And other people’s lives aren’t fodder for morbid fascination, just because they’re undead. There’s lots of ways to hurt people, Milo. I’d rather have the truth. I’ll take some proof that you aren’t being reckless, with yourself or this vampire person you’re looking for.” And Milo’s admission of not doing self care wasn’t helping her worry. Stars above, was this kid looking to get turned? On purpose?

“That’s not really encouraging, Milo,” she said softly. “This world you’re asking about isn’t Teen Wolf and Vampire Diaries bullshit. It’s not a game. Where are you staying right now, do you need a ride home?” 

Milo stared at Morgan, stunned into silence by her words before she hurriedly corrected herself, adding to her statement in an attempt to alter the meaning. Surely, he was being paranoid. Surely, he was imagining things. It didn’t make any sense. “Uh huh…” He said, his voice slow, and deliberate. Making it clear he didn’t believe she was saying what she really meant. She had done the very same thing to him. If they were going to incessantly dance around the subject, he was going to make her work equally as hard. “Sure.” He continued to glare, his annoyance incredibly evident in his expression. I’d rather have the truth. He wanted to bite back, to tell her she hadn’t earned it, he wasn’t going to give it away quite so easily. But he forced himself to hold his tongue. “Reckless how?” He demanded. “Honestly, look at me.” He gestured to his slim frame, knowing his body appeared far weaker than it actually was. “What do you think I’m going to do? Go on some mad vampire killing spree? I don’t get it, I’m not exactly asking for sensitive information.” He didn’t care about how to kill, or how to trap. He only wanted to find someone. That felt innocent enough. 

He let a bitter laugh escape him, feigning derision at the mention of the two CW shows. “I don’t know whether to be more offended by the fact that you think I watch those shows, or the fact that you think I take them as fucking truth.” He snapped. Half being serious as he realised she clearly did think he believed those shows were accurate representations of supernatural life. Jeez, he must have given a really bad impression during the time he spent in her classes. “Don’t pretend you care.” He let out a huff of breath, pushing his hair back away from his face. He was already desperate for another cigarette, for a way to dispel the anger settling in his chest. “If you gave a shit you’d help me, I don’t need a ride home.” 

“There are lots of ways to be reckless, Milo!” Morgan said. “If you really think vampire-murder is the only stupid thing you could try to do, you are way too human for what you are looking into. The fact that you think there’s some generic catch-all method for finding one, that you don’t see how telling you how to stalk them without any context--” She shook her head, baffled, then took a breath. Milo was in over his head. He didn’t know what he was doing, and he had to be horribly, painfully desperate to be going after something like this so hard.

After a slow exhale, she said more softly, “I do give a shit. Many, actually. But I am not going to help you destroy yourself. Whatever is really making you this miserable and desperate, yes, I will help you with, however I can. But there is nothing good down this road. I can promise you that much. I know this isn’t what you were hoping for, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry it hurts. I know it has to hurt so badly right now, but going after this isn’t the way.” She reached into her bag and wrote her number and social media info on a post-it. “Will you take this, please? I really do want to help, Milo. Just not in a way that will make things worse for you later.”

Milo allowed a bitter laugh to escape him, unable to believe he was being called too human. He played off his amusement, directing it towards the former half of Morgan’s statement. “I’ve been plenty stupid in the past, and I’m still here.” He countered. “I don’t think there’s some generic method, that’s literally why I’m asking you for help. But whatever- it’s pretty clear I’m not about to get any.” Continuing to glare at his old professor, raising his eyebrows to show her he didn’t believe a word she was telling him, he crossed his arms over his chest. It felt good to put a barrier between them both, as though he could protect himself from the hurt and frustration of getting absolutely nowhere. But it also allowed him to hide his clenched fists, hide just how angry he actually was. “Why does everybody think I’m out to destroy myself?” He demanded, although he already knew the answer. It was painfully obvious, after all. He had given people so many reasons to be concerned for his well being, obviously they were going to take notice. 

Setting his jaw as Morgan attempted to assure him, the speech was dangerously close to the one his mom used to give him when she found him curled up on the bathroom floor, or shivering in his bed after a difficult comedown. The sentiment hadn’t worked back then, and it wasn’t about to work now. “You don’t know shit.” He snapped, annoyed she was presuming to understand what he was going through. “But thanks,” he snatched the number, resisting the urge to tear it to shreds. It might be useful in the future, he had no way of knowing, and he didn’t want to take that kind of risk. “I guess I’ll call you if I ever need someone to make me feel like an idiot.” He muttered, crumpling the paper, forcing it into the pocket of his hoodie. “Have a good night- or don’t. I’m not going to pretend to care.” Turning on his heel before Morgan could comment, he found a spiteful sense of satisfaction in leaving her alone when she was so obviously feeling nervous. Maybe later that satisfaction would turn to guilt, but for now he allowed himself to revel in it. He was going to find this vampire, with or without her help. And if he got himself into trouble doing so, well, she would just have to deal with being partially responsible.

[zumpietoo]

There are approximately a million serial killers on Riverdale (plus or minus a few), but thus far, only one of these serial killers is responsible for putting Betty Cooper in a hole. That's the Trash Bag Killer, aka TBK, and he is bad, bad news. Like, murdered multiple women, hacked off their limbs, and put their body parts in individual trash bags, bad news. When Betty tried to arrest him, he kidnapped and almost killed her — leading to awful PTSD and terrible nightmares. The worst of it all? Right now, we have absolutely no clue as to who the Trash Bag Killer is on Riverdale.At the moment, Betty is a bit tied up with a different (so we think) murderer: The person kidnapping and killing women off the Lonely Highway. Betty is convinced that Polly, her older sister, is one of his victims, though, thus far, there's only blood — and no body — to prove that Polly is dead. Either way, Betty is going to find out who is killing women in Riverdale, even if that means pressing pause on her Trash Bag Killer investigation and letting her pseudo boyfriend Glen take over TBK.Is it possible that the Lonely Highway Killer is the Trash Bag Killer? Totally, and I wouldn't put it past Riverdale to connect these two stories in one huge trauma-inducing season for Betty. However, right now, we don't know what, if any, connection these killers have. Until Riverdale gives us a few more clues, here's the suspect list for TBK thus far — including a few wild theories from our Clubhouse conversation with the Riverdale After Dark podcast.The Kinda

Obvious One: Glen I'll say it again: Glen is just Diet Charles. Betty's serial killer brother was also an FBI agent, also a blonde dude in his 20s, and also suspicious from the jump.We haven't seen a ton of Glen, but when we do, it's so he can tell Betty something new about whatever serial killer she's currently obsessed with. Yet because Glen is the one delivering the information to Betty — not unlike Charles, who always worked side-by-side with Betty on investigations despite secretly being a serial killer himself — Glen has total control over what Betty knows, and doesn't know.Is it possible that Glen is hiding info about TBK that would implicate him? Totally. Is it also possible that he's weirdly obsessed with Betty, the FBI agent who already had a ton of solved crimes on her resume before she joined the team? Absolutely, yes! And most importantly: If Glen isn't shady, well, why is he here?

The Blast From The Past: Chic Look, as far we know, Chic — aka the guy who pretended to be Charles, Betty's real brother — is still in prison. However, during The Dipp's joint Clubhouse with the Riverdale After Dark podcast, co-host Pete LePage reminded all of us that technically, Chic is just enough of a wild card to be considered a viable suspect. And honestly, I'm ready to have that conversation!For one thing, Chic would be so obsessed with Betty (his faux sister) to try and get her attention by murdering people. He also knows how to get rid of a body, considering he basically made the Cooper family accomplices in the death of "The Shady Man" during season 2. While it seems like Charles is also in jail too, I wouldn't be surprised if Chic was able to bust out of prison with resources his FBI boyfriend acquired during his time working for the government, be it a shady contact or legal loophole. I'm just saying — it could be Chic!

The Unlikely (But Imagine If They Went There!) Option: Jughead OK, but hear me out. This idea was brought up during The Dipp's Clubhouse event, in which Alex Zalben talked about an idea someone threw out on their Patreon's Slack channel."I don't want to take credit for it, but I love the idea that maybe it's Jughead and when he's blacking out, and he's becoming the Trash Bag Killer," Alex explained. "I don't think that's true, but I think it's a very funny, if dark theory."Well... what if it is true? We know that Jughead lost "a lot of time" during his drinking days in New York, and it's heavily implied that he has some trauma he's still reeling from that he simply cannot remember. While we don't know what this is yet, could this "missing time" and "trauma" all add up to Jughead secretly being a serial killer?!?Look, probably not. But we know that Jughead was pretty pissed at Betty, who, once again, cheated on him with his best friend during their senior year of high school. We know that he said something to her via voicemail that was so harsh, they never really spoke until they both showed up in Riverdale. Could Jughead's subconscious have turned him into a murderer, all as a way to exact revenge on new FBI agent Betty? It would be an insane twist.I highly doubt the show would go there — and as someone secretly hoping that Betty and Jughead end up together down the line, I'm not exactly itching for the show to detonate Jughead's character like that, just for a jaw-dropping twist. However, I do think it's possible for Jughead to believe, at least momentarily, that he is capable of being the Trash Bag Killer — and hey, maybe he's involved in the crimes in some non-murder-y way that he simply can't remember.

The Let Down: It's No One We Know Shockingly, not all serial killers can live in Riverdale — even on Riverdale. We know that TBK killed women all over the country, and it's quite possible that the serial killer solely exists so that Betty feels extra guilty and determined to track down Polly's potential killer: In her mind, she already let women die because she couldn't solve the TBK case.Still, that doesn't mean we won't ever meet TBK, or that his presence won't become known in some way on Riverdale."I don't think it's anybody secretly," Alex shared with The Dipp. "I think it's just this external thing, not connected to the Lonely Highway, not connected to the Mothman, but is this pressure on Betty from the outside that eventually he is going to work his way back to Riverdale. It's going to come in at the most inopportune moment and really mess things up. But otherwise, [I think] this is an unrelated mystery that's propelling Betty and putting stress on her throughout the season."This makes a lot of sense, actually. Maybe TBK will show up, whether physically or just in terms of the story, just as Betty is finally tying up all her other cases. Still, not as much fun as the Jughead of it all, right?

Umm.....how is Jughead, the show's actual hero, being the killer, "fun", exactly? Also, naturally, they got that theory from Mr. 58 Seconds, who is also a fucking moron....Again, a shit ton that fully disproves this. If anything, I'd more buy BETTY, in that case. Still not getting their desperate obsession with making Jughead shady.

They even admit, Chic's in prison....what I think is hilarious, if they gonna go with somebody younger (even tho we now know it's been happening for decades, but it's maybe a copycat----Glenn)....why not assign it to Gossip Ghey....or, LBR, Molars?

He's an actual trucker, is gone a lot, etc....and would be way more interesting than any of these...

[jenonctcity]

Chances - Part 6

Na Jaemin/Huang Renjun – Fluff/Angst

Ex-husband!Jaemin/Husband!Renjun

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: None.

Request: Requested by anon – Your past with Jaemin, the pregnancy, the divorce, and how you meet and marry Renjun.

A/N: Just in case this is confusing for anyone, this is part of the Chances series. It does go with the current story of Chances and is going to be set out like a timeline of the events that happened before the series took place. However, it can be read as a standalone piece or like a prequel. But I would recommend checking out the other parts of this series if you get confused. Hope you enjoy!

 Meeting Jaemin:

University was kicking your ass. Between your daily classes and your demanding job at a restaurant, you were left feeling tired and emotionally drained. You didn’t have a choice but to carry on though, money being tight and your education costing you far too much money to skip any nugget of information they were willing to provide you. You had little to no social life, the only person you really interacted with was with your roommate, who herself wasn’t much of a talker. Loneliness consumed you at all the wrong times, it mostly happened late at night after a shift at the restaurant. You’d tuck yourself into bed and let out a sigh, wishing you could cross the room and nudge your roommate awake for a chat. But you didn’t know the girl well enough to do that and you were almost certain it would make her dislike you.

The day you tripped down a couple of steps at university from not paying attention to your feet as much as someone as tired as you were should have, was the day that changed your life. Your wrist was causing agony to throb through your nerves, all your pain receptors on red alert and forcing you to call in sick to work to head to the emergency room. It was absolutely heaving with people of all ages due to it being a Friday evening. There were only 3 seats left available and you weighed up your options as you studied the people, they were situated next to. A drunk couple who both had similar cuts on their foreheads, you could only assume they’d done something highly dumb to end up with those injuries. An old man who was slouching into the free seat next to him as he started dozed off, his eyes dark underneath like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He looked like he tried to fight off sleep until he started to have a coughing fit, sitting up straight and coughing into his hands. And finally, a young man who had bleached blonde hair dyed a light pink, dressed from head to toe in a black adidas tracksuit, his arms folded across his chest and his knee jittering as he waited. You were unaware what he was waiting to be seen for as you couldn’t see any physical injuries on him, but as you looked between all three options again, you decided he was the lucky winner.

You quickly approached him, hugging your wrist to your chest as you cleared your throat, gaining his attention as he looked up at you.

“Is this seat taken?” You asked, smiling weakly at him.

“No, go ahead.” He copied your smile, watching you for a moment as you sat beside him. You looked around the emergency room, trying to find something remotely entertaining to watch, also regretting that you didn’t bring the book you’d been trying to finish for the past 2 months with you. “What did you do to your wrist? Or is it your hand?” You heard the boy ask you, his voice deep and his tone was warm.

“I er…tripped down some stairs.” You looked at him and laughed softly. “Not my finest moment.” You winced as you jostled your wrist by accident when you moved it to your lap instead of cradling it to your chest. “What are you in here for? You don’t look like you did something dumb and injured yourself.” You tried to joke with him, this being your only form of entertainment. The longer you looked at the handsome boy the more you became self-conscious of you what you assumed was your messy state. You hadn’t actually seen your reflection since you’d left your dorm that morning, but you presumed your hair had gotten messier, and your mascara had smudged from the tears you’d shed upon your unexpected meeting with the hard ground.

“Oh no I’m not here for me, I’m just here as support.” He flashed you a wide smile, motioning to the boy sitting beside him whose eyes were swollen shut. “Dummy over here forgot about his hay fever allergies and went running through a field of flowers like Bambi on crack.” He sniggered when his friend reached out to hit him but missed due to his lack of eyesight. Merely swiping at the air and just missing someone as they walked past.

“Hey! just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I can’t hear, you ass.” His friend whined, folding his arms over his chest like a disgruntled child. You giggled at the two of them, your eyes feeling crusty from the dried tears when your smile reached your eyes.

“Pipe down Jeno, you’re lucky I brought you here and didn’t just leave you to blindly make your way here after you drank my banana milk.” Jeno didn’t reply, only sinking further into his seat as he sulked. Jaemin turned his head back to you and smiled again, his eyes raking over the span of your face and he couldn’t help but think about how naturally beautiful you looked. Even if you did have smudged eye makeup and needed to comb your hair. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you (Y/N), I’d shake your hand, but I kind of can’t right now.” He smiled warmly when his attempt of a joke made you giggle.

“Maybe some other time.” You didn’t realise what your words insinuated even after you’d said them. But he noticed straight away, nodding his head eagerly.

“I hope so…I’m Jaemin.”

 The Pregnancy:

Your relationship with Jaemin had been going strong for the past 7 years. In that time, you’d both finished your education and secured jobs that were not only financially stable, but also gave you good amounts of time to be together, unlike the jobs you both held back when you first met and started dating. On your five-year anniversary, Jaemin had popped the question to you and within a year you were named Mrs Na.  You also both agreed to move out of your cosy – Jaemin would call it cramped, but you preferred cosy – apartment, and move into one with more room for your family to grow. It started off with the two of you getting a hamster, which Jaemin wanted to name Megatron Fire Blaze, but you shot that idea down with a death stare and the hamster ended up being named Tony.

A few months after your seven-year anniversary you’d dropped the pregnancy bomb onto Jaemin. He was thrilled and wasn’t too proud to admit he bawled his eyes out like teenage girl watching a sad movie about a tragic love story. Your pregnancy was going smoothly apart from the tiny feet that would aggressively kick your insides every now and then. You were also certain your baby was learning to tap dance and using your bladder as its dance floor, also, the uncomfortable and inconvenient need to pee was starting to drive you insane.

“What do you think of the name Sooyoung for if it’s a girl?” Jaemin asked, neither of you facing each other as you laid with your back pressed to his chest in the bed. The turned down sound of a movie neither of you were paying attention to on the television acted as background noise as you both focussed more on your conversation. Despite both of you having your eyes trained onto the movie, neither of you could tell someone what was going on with the storyline if asked.

“Hmm…no I’m not feeling it.” You sighed in annoyance, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. “Our baby is never going to have a name at this rate, I just don’t like any names anyone is suggesting!” Jaemin remained silent for a moment, not being able to see much of your face from the angle he was laying at.

“You’re not going to cry are you…?” He was still learning to deal with the crazy ways your hormones would affect your moods. It still baffled him how one second you could be laughing at a funny post you’d seen on twitter and then the next you were crying about how you couldn’t reach the remote for the tv without getting up from the comfort of the sofa. He would often think back to the time Jeno commented on how your hair looked really full and colourful during your pregnancy and instead of taking it as a compliment you’d started crying in Jaemin’s arms, stating how horrible your hair must look normally and how you were just going to shave it off. Jeno had paled and immediately tried to backtrack on his words. The poor boy feeling the wrath of your pregnancy hormones. He tried not to laugh at the memory when you were around, just in case you asked him why he was laughing.

“No…” You bottom lip wobbled as you tried to hold it together, willing the tears to go away.

“What about…Joohyun? Seulgi?” You elbowed Jaemin in the ribs gently, causing him to groan as you turned to face him with your eyebrows pulling into a scowl.

“Now you’re just naming the members of Red Velvet!” He looked like a deer caught in the headlights as you caught onto his idea.

“Sorry!” He paused as he racked his brains, his lips pouting as his thoughts ran wild. “I like Mihyun.”

“Mihyun…” The name rolled off your tongue nicely as you repeated it again and again before concluding. “I love it, if our baby is a girl its Mihyun.” You smiled warmly, snuggling into Jaemin’s hold as much as you could with your big bump in the way. You both remained quiet for a while before Jaemin piped up.

“If it’s a boy, he shall be named Optimus Prime.”

“We are not naming our baby after a transformer!!!”

 The Divorce:

Na Mihyun was born on the 3rd of August. You and Jaemin had never felt more overjoyed and filled with love as what you did when you held the tiny infant in your arms for the first time. The second Jaemin heard the shrill cries of his daughter, the tears he couldn’t keep in rolled down his cheeks from pent up emotions popping like an overfilled balloon. Neither one of you could wait to take home the little life that was a symbol of your love for one another. However, things started to go sour within weeks.

The first argument was caused from Jaemin going out late with a few of his work friends. It didn’t bother you that he was going out and having fun, what bothered you was the text he sent you at 11pm that read ‘Will be another hour, don’t wait up’ after he’d promised you he’d be in before 11. It sent a spark of irritation amongst your body, but you tried to ignore it, knowing he had every right to go out and have some fun after being cooped up at home for the past few months with you. The hour passed and there was still no sign of Jaemin. After another half an hour you decided to call him, but he didn’t answer. Anxiety acted like a flood around you as the thought of him being hurt raided your mind, and the stress of being a new mother on your own and losing your husband began to make you sink in the pool on anxiety. You drowned in the feeling and it brought on a panic attack. You thanked god that Mihyun hadn’t woken up during that time, not knowing if you could have coped. He stumbled into the apartment at 4am, waking up your new-born and the anger pent up inside you. You gave him the silent treatment for a day before a big argument blew up, harsh words exchanged between you.

More arguments ensued throughout the next couple of months. Arguments over petty things, and you found that the two of you would argue for the sake of arguing at times. Leading to Jaemin spending most nights sleeping on the sofa, a hostile air between the two of you. You were miserable. And you didn’t want to feel like that when you should be enjoying your baby girl’s life. You didn’t want Jaemin feeling that way either. With the headspace you were in, you didn’t think there was any other options other than to go your separate ways.

“Jaemin, I need to talk to you.” You’d cornered him in the kitchen where you’d just come from your bedroom after putting Mihyun down for her afternoon nap.

“About what?” You longed for the days when his tone was soft, bringing comfort to you when you needed it the most. You’d already had a disagreement that morning, so his tone was unfriendly towards you. He turned to look at you from where he was making a sandwich on the kitchen counter, furrowing his eyebrows at your face as you silently cried. You heart breaking at the words you were about to drop on him.

“I can’t do this anymore…what happened to us? We hardly ever act like a loving couple anymore Jaemin and we can’t agree on anything anymore. I don’t want to fight every day; I just want a peaceful life with my daughter.” You gulped, starting to sob as you shook your head. His stomach sank, unease settling in the pit of his gut as he knew what you were about to say. “I want a divorce.”

“(Y/N) no…please we can work on this!” He abandoned his half-made sandwich, feeling numb and not knowing what to do other than to beg you to stay with him. “Baby don’t leave me.” He rushed to you, trying to take your hands in his own but you snatched them away, shaking your head and taking a step back.

“No…please just pack your things and go.”

“But I still love you…” He whispered, his voice cracking as a sob left his lips. You sighed, turning your back to him.

“Go.”

 Meeting Renjun:

Your divorce went through a lot quicker than you expected, and within a few months you were back to being a Miss. Life as a single mother was surprisingly easier than you thought, but that was probably because Mihyun was only just half a year old and had only just mastered the art of sitting up on her own. She had started to teeth also, which meant many sleepless nights for you, but you didn’t care because she was your only priority. You knew times would get tougher as she got older, but you couldn’t worry about it until it happened. After you and Jaemin separated, you both decided neither of you should keep the apartment, and you both moved into your own apartments. So even after living your new home for a month, you were still in the midst of decorating the place to your standards, loving that no one could tell you what you could and couldn’t put up on the walls. You did miss Jaemin, but you didn’t dwell on the feeling, knowing it wasn’t mentally healthy for you to live in the past when you had a whole fresh start ahead of you.

The apartment building you moved into was a new build, so all the apartments were slowly getting filled up with residents. All morning you could hear scuffling noises coming from the previously empty apartment next-door, so you assumed someone now occupied the living space. You went on with your day as you normally would, entertaining Mihyun as she tried to crawl around. In the end you put her in her walker, letting her cruise around the apartment to her own free will. You were engrossed in a silly tv programme that made little to no sense when a knock echoed through the halls.

“One Second!” You called out as you rose from the sofa, noting that Mihyun was fine in her walker. “You going to follow mumma?” You giggled when she grinned at you with her new front teeth, waddling after you in the confines of her walker. You smiled when you opened the door, met with an attractive man who looked to be around your own age. He had dark brown hair with matching brown eyes, his smile warm as he bowed to you.

“Hello! I just moved in next door, so I thought I’d come introduce myself.” He motioned his head towards his apartment as he spoke. “My name is Renjun.” He held his hand out to you and you quickly shook his hand with a smile. You detected an accent as he spoke Korean but couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was.

“I’m (Y/N), its nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, is it just you living here?” You noticed his glance at your hand, missing the slight raise of his eyebrows when he saw no wedding ring on your finger.

“No actually, I have this little terror living here too.” You opened the door wider to reveal your daughter, still sat in her walker and staring up at Renjun with wide curious eyes.

“Oh look at you!” He gasped, crouching down to her height and admiring the beauty of the baby. “What’s her name?”

“Mihyun.” You smiled in pride as you watched him coo over your child.

“Hi princess, aren’t you beautiful?” He chuckled when she pointed a hand at him and starting to giggle at him.

“She already likes you.” You folded your arms across your chest and leaned against the doorframe.

“I’m glad I have her approval.” He looked up at you with a soft smile, standing back up to his full height. “Well if you need anything then you know where I live.” He nodded his head at you, his eyes lingering on your face. You blushed, bowing to him.

“Thank you, same to you too.” You said your goodbyes and he headed back to his apartment. “Did you like him my little pickle?” You plucked Mihyun out of her walker to hold her to your chest. “He was nice wasn’t he?”

 Marrying Renjun:

A month after you’d met Renjun for the first time, he’d asked you out on a date. You hadn’t told Jaemin when he’d come to pick up Mihyun for the night, not wanting him to get upset about you moving on so quickly. At first you were hesitant whether to go on a date at all, but you didn’t want to let the opportunity of dating someone as lovely and kind as Renjun pass up. So, you took the plunge, went on a date with Renjun, and had an amazing night that you’d never forget. When Renjun proposed to you on your one-year anniversary, you took a week to give him your answer. Hesitant at first about marriage purely for the purpose that you’d already been married once and that hadn’t worked out. But after some deep thought and a long conversation with Jaemin about what went wrong in your marriage to him, you said yes. 10 months later you walked down the aisle and married Renjun, labelling him as the love of your life in your wedding vows. You didn’t know this, but Jaemin winced when he heard you say that. He went to your wedding despite the ache it caused in his heart, only going to show his support to you and not wanting gossip going around about his absence if he didn’t go.

You also moved apartments again. Renjun and you both moving into another apartment that was slightly bigger with the hopes of expanding your family at some point. Although you didn’t like that someone else now had a say in what you decorated the apartment with. Mihyun loved having Renjun living with you, him spoiling her with everything she wanted as soon as she told him her wanted it. He was good at acting like a father, but he knew he’d never take her own fathers place, which he didn’t want to do. But he loved her like she was his own flesh and blood, and he’d do anything for her. You hoped that this marriage was the start to your dream life, but you treasured everything you had with Jaemin. The highs and lows taught you things and gave you an experience that you’d never forget.

[arguments-rants-conspiracies]

A MDZS Theory That will Make You Want to Slap Me

Warning: This only applies to the MDZS novel.

So, I was thinking about Mo Xuanyu and Jin Guangyao one day, as one is wont to do these days, and I’m thinking --

What if instead of Mo Xuanyu sexually harassing Jin Guangyao during his time at Jinlintai, it's the other way around? Namely, what if Jin Guangyao had been the one to sexually harass, if not assault, Mo Xuanyu?

Now, to be honest I don’t think this is what MXTX had in mind, and this is more of a "Hmm won’t this put things in a different light” conspiracy theory than an actual deduction of what happened, but hear me out.

First, let’s look at their circumstances:

Mo Xuanyu:

- Was a minor (14) when he was called back to the Jin family.

- Not in a position of power. (Didn’t grown up in a cultivation family, and was only there because Jin Guangshan wanted someone to hold Jin Guangyao back. Thus, the only backing he had was Jin Guangshan, and I highly doubt that accounted to much, if at all.)

- Physically weaker (No spiritual powers or fighting experience).

In contrast, Jin Guangyao:

- Was an adult (Exact age is unclear, but he’s born on the same day as Jin Zixuan, who’s around Wei Wuxian’s age, so 21 plus and minus some?)

- Had significant power and influence. (Yes, he’s the son of a prostitute, but  he made enough of a name for himself in the Sunshot campaign to strong-arm his way back into the Jin family. In addition, he has some pretty powerful people (Lan Xichen for one) on his side so he definitely could move a few things around, and he probably did.)

- Knows how to fight, not on the same level as some other cultivators but keep in mind, the dude was a soldier.

- Has shown himself to be manipulative multiple times.

I can’t help but notice a power dynamic going on here, and to be frank, Mo Xuanyu’s profile reads more like that of a victim than a perpetrator. While a child can perpetrate sexual harassment against an adult, it is VERY, VERY rare. Unfortunately, these things are usually done by adults in power.

Second, why sexual harassment?

Isn’t it odd that of all the crimes and transgressions Jin Guangyao could pin on Mo Xuanyu, he picked sexual harassment?

Why not just have him, you know, killed and done with? Some may argue that he couldn’t outright kill Mo Xuanyu because that’d be suspicious, but even so, I’m sure there are a million ways to embarrass him and get him kicked out.

Fake sexual harassment is literally the worst plan for him. Why? Because sexual harassment is disgusting not just because of the act itself, but because of how people react to it. Even in modern society, victims are often not believed or accused of being somewhat responsible for the harassment by “seducing” the perpetrator. And I can’t imagine things being any better in ancient China for the son of a prostitute, especially considering that, as I argued earlier, he could easily be seen as having more power over Mo Xuanyu.

As unfortunate as it is, I can already hear the following dialogue at Jinlintai:

“Hey, did you guys hear? Apparently Jin Guangshan’s youngest bastard has been harassing Jin Guangyao.”

“Mo Xuanyu? The kid who couldn’t hold a sword to this day? Harassing the dude that killed Wen Ruohan?”

“Yeah, I don’t believe it for a second either. Who knows if that son of a whore was really harassed? You know what I think it is? That snake led the kid on with his brothel tricks and Mo Xuanyu, being stupid, fell right in.”

“Or maybe it was him that’s the real cut-sleeve here. I’m not saying Mo Xuanyu is particularly great, but how’s the child of a pure mother supposed to know about cut-sleeves? Lianfang-zun on the other hand...”

Even if he can silence these counter-accusations, rumours still go around and Jin Guangyao would be associated with “deviant sexual things” and I don’t see him wanting that, given that there’s nothing he hates more than being reminded of his parentage.

So why would he choose this path?

Because he had no better option.

This could be one of several cases:

There's no other way Mo Xuanyu's going down.

Mo Xuanyu actually did harass Jin Guangyao.

He harassed Mo Xuanyu and was discovered, and Jin Guangyao had to address it in a way profitable to himself.

1 seems unlikely. As I said earlier, Mo Xuanyu is a kid with no political power and a familial background only marginally better than Jin Guangyao's.

And take a million steps back, even if framing him of sexual harassment was the only way to get Mo Xuanyu kicked out of Lanling Jin, Jin Guangyao didn't have to frame himself as the victim. There are others (Jin Ling for one) whom he could have utilized as pawns to deflect the hit in reputation sexual harassment victims get.

2 also seems improbable. Even ignoring the fact that Mo Xuanyu doesn’t match the profile of a sexual harassment perpetrator (which I’ve mentioned far too many times), another thing to note is that Jin Guangyao seems...somewhat fond of Mo Xuanyu.

Yes, Mo Xuanyu could enter Jin Guangyao's personal quarters and peruse top secret documents. But also, Jin Guangyao's not a nice person to those that wrong him or get in his way. He killed a fellow clansman for taking credit of things he did, musically poisoned Nie Mingjue for calling him the son of a prostitute, and murdered his wife and son when they became not useful to him -- why would he leave Mo Xuanyu alive?

It’s probably not because of commiseration because we know he killed off all of his other brothers, some of whom must have came from backgrounds similar to his. Also, brother or not, if someone sexually harassed you won’t you want their heads off? And we know Jin Guangyao’s...a little pettier than the average person, so why would he let someone who sexually harassed him live?

Also, as long as Mo Xuanyu is alive he is a potential liability to Jin Guangyao. What if he takes revenge? Sure, he's mad and harmless, but what if he's faking it? A lot had happened that could have been entirely avoided if Jin Guangyao just offed Mo Xuanyu when he had the chance.

All of this points to Jin Guangyao feeling like he “owes” Mo Xuanyu something for having wronged him. Now, why would he feel like that? Maybe because he dragged an innocent kid into his lust for power, but combined with option 3, I’m going to stretch it and say another reason could also be because of guilt for sexually harassing Mo Xuanyu.

Abusers (ouch, that’s a heavy word) often use “gifts” to mollify their guilt and to manipulate their victims into compliance [source], and it’s possible that Jin Guangyao saw giving Mo Xuanyu his trust and, ultimately, keeping him alive as “gifts”.

Perhaps the abuse continued after Mo Xuanyu left, perhaps it didn’t.

Third, let’s look at what happened on Mo Xuanyu’s side after the “scandal” happened.

After Mo Xuanyu went back to Mo village, he supposedly “went mad”. Sometimes the madness goes away, and sometimes it acts up. A couple of years under abuse from the Mo family, and the madness got worse.

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that sounds an awful lot like PTSD, which could be caused by the sexual harassment or the traumatic aftermath.

A prominent symptom of PTSD is uncontrollable thoughts about the traumatic event, in the form of reliving the event, distressing emotions regarding the event, or anxiety and panic attacks. [source]

This theory could explain the sporadic nature of his madness. Notice that even the victim themselves cannot control the flashbacks, so the anxiety and panic attacks, as well as other actions undertaken, could definitely come across as episodes of insanity to observers.

But if that’s the case, why doesn’t he ask Wei Wuxian for the revenge on the Jin sect?

The answer - Because he thinks he’s not worthy of it.

At the beginning of the novel, we get to read Mo Xuanyu’s “will” of sorts through Wei Wuxian’s eyes, and it’s from there that we know he was kicked out of a prominent sect for being a cut-sleeve. However, Mo Xuanyu doesn’t tell us which sect he was kicked out of and whom he supposedly harassed.

Why doesn’t he tell us that? He went so far as to tell us a brief history of the Mo family and his cousin’s obsession with cultivation, why wouldn’t he tell us which sect he had once been a part of? Even if he was kicked out in the end, being related and having once been a part of the LanLing Jin sect could be an honour of a lifetime.

And why would he (to Wei Wuxian at least) openly admit that he was kicked out for harassing a fellow male? It sucks being a victim, but there’s no way that being a cut-sleeve sexual harassment perpetrator could be seen as an honor. He even seems to be protecting Jin Guangyao, by not giving his name.

Note how both of these actions serve one purpose - to demean himself. This letter reveals what Mo Xuanyu thought about himself at the time of his suicide - A cut-sleeve bastard who shamed his family and harassed an innocent man.

You might ask: why would he think this lowly of himself?

Well, remember what I said about sexual harassment? Victims are often not believed or accused of being responsible by asking for it.

Mo Xuanyu is also gay, so he was a teenager, on the cusp of puberty, that had his sexuality outed and ridiculed. And combine this with the fact that not only was Mo Xuanyu not given any support, but every adult blamed him for it.

Perhaps Mo Xuanyu was convinced, either by Jin Guangyao or by the homophobic rules of his society, that since he sexually preferred men, he must have liked the “attention” Jin Guangyao was giving him, and that he deserved to get kicked out for “liking” it.

This, combined with the guilt that sexual harassment victims frequently have regardless of gender and sexuality, made for a difficult recovery. Even his own mother committed suicide in shame, and that, combined with the abuse that came from his aunt afterwards, likely further exacerbated his spiral into low self-esteem.

And judging by the fact that he waited many years to commit suicide, I think he genuinely tried to recover. He tried standing up for himself in front of his aunt and convincing himself to live, but it was a very, very tough war that he lost more often than he won. Thus, when Nie Huaisang gave him an incentive, he likely took it without much protest.

So what, according to this conspiracy theory, actually happened?

This, I repeat, is more of a “what if” situation than a serious guess at canon. Thus, do not attempt to stab me over the internet. You will only wreck your own device in the end, and you do not want that.

Mo Xuanyu is a closeted, 14-year-old gay boy who has yet to come to terms with the fact that he’s one of them despised “cutsleeves”.

His mother placed a lot of hope on him when he was taken back to LanLing.

He grows close with Jin Guangyao, because the guy is charmer and a really pleasant guy to be with when he doesn’t want to kill you.

In spite of his best wishes, Mo Xuanyu’s sexuality begins to show itself. No secret is safe at Lanling Jin.

And Jin Guangyao, for whatever reason, decides to make a move on Mo Xuanyu.

And Mo Xuanyu 1) couldn’t reject him and 2) was gas-lighted by him into believing that he was at fault.

How far the “sexual harassment” went depends on how you want to believe it.

Regardless, Mo Xuanyu and Jin Guangyao grows close, and Jin Guangyao gives him gifts.

Then, someone catches them together.

Jin Guangyao quickly pushes all of the responsibility onto Mo Xuanyu, leading to his being kicked out of Jinlintai.

He lets Mo Xuanyu live, and pats himself on the back for it.

After being shamed by Lanling Jin and kicked out, Mo Xuanyu was shamed by his own family.

His mother, especially, was disappointed in him, and Mo Xuanyu didn’t defend himself because there’s nothing to defend - he’s a disgusting cutsleeve who harassed Jin Guangyao.

Mo Xuanyu down spirals into depression after his mother’s death.

He tried to convince himself to live for many years, but is teeming on the edge.

Nie Huaisang comes and gives him an easy way to die.

He takes it.

[nightingiall]

little do you know, chapter 19; broken frames

Fact: “68% of people suffer from phantom vibration syndrome, the feeling that one’s phone is vibrating when it’s not.”

previous chapters + drabbles

Mona had a very, very bad feeling about something.

It had lodged itself into her chest and wouldn’t go away, causing her to toss and turn all night long.

She was exhausted. Her body was telling her to get some sleep, but her mind was wide awake, flipping though the day’s events constantly. She couldn’t stop thinking of what went wrong. Why couldn’t she get to Niall in time? Why didn’t he wait a little longer? Why didn’t he hear her calling for him? Why why why why why?

It didn’t help that there was this restlessness hammering around in her bones. Being in her room was starting to feel suffocating, especially when she knew that things weren’t right between her and Niall, especially when she was so painfully aware that he was just across the hallway, probably in his own bedroom, and she could just go and talk to him so he would at least know that she hadn’t stood him up after all.

Except he didn’t want to talk to her. He’d made that abundantly clear. He didn’t want to speak to anyone actually. He had Liam turning away anyone that knocked at their apartment door.

It didn’t take long for the others to figure out that something was wrong. After all, when Mona walked into her apartment sopping wet from the rain, they were all there, binge watching some new show on Netflix in her living room. Harlow had taken one look at her and knew that she wasn’t okay, and when she scurried towards her to grab Mona’s shoulders and turn her around to face her, something in her expression was horrified. Mona wondered what she had looked like to her. Dead, empty eyes? Pale, blotchy skin? She wondered if she looked like how she felt, a bit zombielike.

“Mona,” Harlow had breathed out, warm hands pressing to Mona’s cold face as she gestured for Zayn to grab a towel for her. Harry had already made his way over at the sudden change in Harlow’s voice, green eyes widened in concern as he took one look at Mona. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

Zayn was draping a warm towel over her shoulders. Maybe it was because he knew her more than anyone else at the moment, but he turned her to face him, hands a strong weight on her arms. “Hey,” he murmured, and when she met his eyes, there was this sort of understanding there. Like he knew exactly what the cause of her pain was. And she realized distantly that he probably did. “What happened? Talk to me.”

Talk to me. That simple statement had a slew of memories flashing rapidly in her mind. Memories of Niall in the cabin, in her bedroom, in the library. Memories of bright blue eyes and light brown eyebrows etched in concern. Memories of those very words bubbling out of soft, peachy lips, of fingers tangling within her own, of her sweet, wonderful sunshine boy and how he was always begging her for one thing. Talk to me.

She sucked in a breath, feeling lightheaded again. It was too much. Her mind was constantly buzzing and she just wanted it to stop, otherwise she felt as if she’d go crazy.

“I ruined everything, Zayn,” she croaked out, voice barely above a whisper. It was so quiet in the room that she could hear the drip drip drip of the water from her soaking wet clothes creating a puddle at her feet. Everyone watched her so carefully, so frozen in their spots, that she wondered if they were even breathing. “I ruined everything.”

Perhaps it was the shock of her appearance and the broken way her words came out, but no one protested when she numbly made her way to her room and locked the door behind her. Before the door shut completely, she heard Harry whisper, “You don’t think that has anything to do with Niall, right?”

As Mona stripped off her clothes and crawled into her bed, wet skin and dripping hair and all, she could imagine what they did next. They probably hurried over to see what Niall was up to only to be stopped by Liam—ever so loyal Liam—at the doorway. She imagined their hushed conversation in the middle of the hallway, their suspicions being confirmed.

All of that probably led to Harlow gently knocking at her door about an hour later. “Mona darling?” Her voice was muffled through the door, and Mona closed her eyes against her pillow, not having the energy to answer. “We don’t have to talk about it now. But at least let me make you a cup of tea. It’ll warm you up.”

As soon as she said that, Mona realized that she was shivering under her blankets. She still didn’t have any clothes on, and her hair was still damp. A cup of tea actually sounded amazing in that moment.

Harlow didn’t wait for her answer, simply giving her the time and space to make up her mind. In the meantime, Mona somehow found the willpower to peel herself off her bed, crossing the room to grab a towel. She dried her skin and her hair and slipped into some comfy leggings, a worn t-shirt, and a warm hoodie. She was just putting some socks on, having worn the hoodie for all of three minutes, before she got a whiff of the scent that was clinging to it and realized belatedly that it was Niall’s.

She couldn’t bring herself to take it off.

As she headed towards the door, she caught a glance of herself in the mirror. Her skin was pale, undereyes swollen and red-rimmed. Her face was puffy, nose red from the cold, and lips tinged a ghostly pale blue. She tossed her towel over her mirror before she headed out the door. She didn’t know who that person was, reflected in her mirror, but she didn’t want to see them again.

When she got to the kitchen and slid herself onto a chair at their tiny excuse for a kitchen table, Harlow already had her tea ready and placed it in front of her. Zayn and Harry were still there, also seated at the kitchen table, and Harlow took the last chair available. No one said anything. They simply tentatively sipped on their beverages while Mona stared at the swirls of steam emanating from her mug.

When she finally took a sip of her tea, they all placed their mugs down on the table, watching her carefully. She knew what they were doing. They were deciding what kind of mood she seemed to be in, whether they should push the topic or simply stay silent. Mona knew they saw this going one of several ways. If they broached the topic, then she could either walk away and lock herself in her bedroom or she would actually indulge them with a conversation, which, really, the latter option was highly unlikely. Or, they could play it safe and simply say nothing at all, which ensured that she sat at the table with them, and she didn’t cry or get angry.

Mona knew there was another option as well, that she would start a conversation herself. But she knew that everyone was aware that pigs would have to be flying out of their window for that to happen.

It was clear what they had chosen after a few moments. Silence. No one asked her anything, and she didn’t offer a word. It was better this way, she figured. She wasn’t in any state of mind to relive the past few hours of her life, and she knew that they respected her enough to give her space when she needed it.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Harlow give Harry a concerned sort of look and Harry shook his head at her, probably to discourage her from asking questions. Mona took that as her cue to get out of there. If Harlow was getting antsy, it was only a matter of time before she started to talk everyone’s ear off.

“Thanks for the tea, Roop,” Mona got out, though it really just sounded like a whisper. She pushed the mug to the center of the table and dragged her feet back to her room. After locking the door behind her, she shucked her socks off and crawled back into her bed, where she had stayed until now.

She had just woken up from another fitful slumber and was now staring at the ceiling. Her hands mindlessly reached for her phone from where she’d left it charging on her nightstand. When she unlocked it, the screen showed her the last desperate text messages she’d sent to Niall, the red exclamation point signaling that it was not delivered mocking her in the corner of each message.

Niall I’m so sorry I’m on my way

These probably aren’t sending but the train is delayed

I’ll be there I promise

She tossed the phone away again. Things would have been so different if Niall had received those messages. Luck really was not on her side, it seemed. Her eyes closed again and she’d probably had about another hour of sleep before she was jerking awake again, her heart racing about something she had no idea about yet.

Finally, she just couldn’t take it anymore. She could not just lie there and wonder about all the could’ves and should’ves and would’ves. She thought she would quite literally go insane if her brain replayed the events of that day one more time. Of course there are so many different ways the day could have played out, so many other things she could have done or said that would’ve ensured that things happened differently. But there was only one version of events that mattered: reality. And the only thing she could possibly do to make this better was to confront her problem head on.

So, she swung her legs over the edge of her bed and slipped her feet into her fluffy slippers. With a glance at the clock, she found that it was just nearing six in the morning. Still, she didn’t care if Niall was or wasn’t awake or if he still had Liam turning away people who wanted to see him. He would have to listen to her now. He needed to know that she was there, that she called out for him and he didn’t notice her.

He needed to know that she loved him.

When she bustled out of her room, her mind clear and her heart set, she was surprised to see Harlow pacing about in the living room. She never rose this early in the morning, and with one glance at the darkness under her eyes, Mona had to wonder if she even slept.

Then she realized that if Harlow looked like that, then Mona must look absolutely horrific.

Whatever the case may be, Mona didn’t have the time or energy to ask Harlow about it. Instead, she simply muttered a quick “good morning” before stalking out of the front door and across the hallway. She was vaguely aware that Harlow had called out for her, that she might’ve even been following her, but she could only focus on doing one thing: getting her sunshine boy back.

She knocked on the door to his apartment only to be, unsurprisingly, greeted by Liam. “I need to see Niall,” she blurted out, not waiting for him to get out the words that were so clearly waiting on his tongue.

Liam’s mouth flopped open and closed for a bit as he presumably searched for the words to reply to her. Finally, he sighed, opening the door fully and giving her a rather guilty look. “Mo,” he said, very, very gently and quietly, as if he were speaking to a small child. There was something about his tone that had her standing to her full height as she watched him carefully. “Niall’s not here. He left.”

Mona tried to ignore the feeling that zipped down her spine, like ice water had been poured down her back. She willed her heart to stay still as she mulled over Liam’s words in her head, feeling the implication of it wash over her. “Left? What do you mean he left?”

She distantly registered Harlow’s hand being pressed to her shoulder. The only thing she could focus on was how Liam watched her with sadness reflected in his big brown eyes. She thought of his words earlier—"It’s all going to be okay, Mo.”—and she wondered what exactly about this situation was okay.

Somehow, Zayn and Harry had magically appeared beside her as well. Harry’s hand came up to rest on her other shoulder while Zayn stepped in front of her, eyes watching hers carefully. “Mo,” Zayn said placatingly, gesturing for Liam to close the door. “Why don’t we go over to yours and have a calm chat about this, okay?”

Mona was starting to lose her conviction from earlier. Her heart was beginning to race. “Chat about what? What’s going on?” She looked at Liam again, hoping he could see the desperation in her expression, hoping that he knew what was at stake here. “Liam, what do you mean Niall left?”

If she could hear the panic slowly rising in her voice, she was sure everyone else could. Sure enough, they were onto her in a second, watching her like she was a ticking time bomb and it was up to them to diffuse her. And, somehow, that was when she knew that there was a high probability of her having a breakdown in this hallway and she would have to do everything in her power to prevent that.

“Mo,” Liam started again, hands reaching for hers. He seemed to be at a loss. Then, suddenly, in typical Liam fashion, the words came tumbling out of him. “Niall went to Ireland. He went looking for you yesterday morning to tell you that his mum had bought his ticket and wasn’t taking no for an answer. Something about wanting him to make amends with the rest of his family?” Mona was sure her jaw was on the floor. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. There was no way this was real. “He left a few hours ago. Said he didn’t want to bother anyone and that he’d just take a cab.”

Mona watched Liam for a long moment before she realized that this was very much real, and she had very much fucked up, and Niall had very much meant the ‘for good’ thing he said earlier. She was starting to feel lightheaded again, like she actually might faint this time

She just wished that this was all one big nightmare, and that she would wake up at any moment now and it would all be over.

But with the way Harry’s hand was squeezing her upper arm, she knew that this was no dream.

It was just her fucked up life.

~

Apparently, she nearly did faint.

Her knees had buckled under her weight, which explained the throbbing in her upper arm now because Harry had grabbed there to try and catch her. She realized dumbly that somewhere between the rollercoaster of events yesterday, she had failed to actually eat something, and her body was punishing her for that now. Still, despite the weakness and fatigue she was feeling between the lack of food and dehydration, Harlow had practically had to force feed her this morning. She made her down three glasses of water while she was at it too.

Now, Mona was curled into herself on the couch. She didn’t have the energy to drag her feet back to her bedroom, so she’d settled for crawling onto the couch, legs curled into a position that resembled that of a fetus, eyes staring vacantly at the dark TV.

She found herself looking at her phone a lot. She’d just pull up her text message thread with Niall and stare at those unsent messages, the red exclamation point taunting her, and she was reminded of how the universe seemed to be playing some sort of cruel joke on her. Perhaps a part of her wished that Niall would text her at any moment, or that her phone screen would light up with his contact photo smiling at her.

Neither of those things ever happened though.

On the couch where she was curled up, Harry sat with her for a while. He let her rest her head on his lap as he smoothed down her hair soothingly. He didn’t say anything, but Mona could tell by the way his lips tugged downward that he was not very happy. Still, he let her mope, and he offered his silent comfort through it.

The same could not be said for Zayn. He had allowed Harry to coddle her for a few hours, but once it had hit noon, he’d clearly had enough.

“Alright,” was how he started whatever speech he’d planned, sitting on the sofa next to her and watching Mona carefully. Harry, on her other side, had somehow coaxed her up into a sitting position, and she curled her knees up into her chest, clutching a mug of tea on top of it. “I’d let you sulk around for a bit longer, but we need to know what’s going on. And since Niall’s clearly not here to give us details, we’re gonna have to hear it from you.”

Mona, for her part, simply sighed, her head lolling back to rest on the back of the couch as she settled for staring at the ceiling.

“Mo.” It was Liam this time, and his voice was more gentle. He settled into the chair adjacent from them, Harlow making herself comfortable on the loveseat. “We can’t help you feel better if we don’t know what’s happened.”

Now, Mona huffed out a laugh, feeling weary. “You can’t help me.” Her voice came out cold and sort of hollow. The sound of it had everyone sitting up in their seats.

“Mona darling,” Harlow breathed out, and she actually sounded a bit terrified. “Please tell us what happened. Did you and Niall fight? Is that why both of you are so upset?”

At the mention of Niall’s name, Mona closed her eyes. She took a sip of her tea to buy herself time as she tried to figure out what to say. She didn’t even know where to begin. It felt like such a chore to not only relive everything again, but this time articulate what had happened into words. She leaned forward to slide her mug onto the coffee table before taking a deep breath.

“Do you want the short version or the long version.” Her voice still had no inflection. She still wasn’t in the mood to talk about anything.

Harry nudged her shoulder a bit. “Whatever you’re comfortable with?”

On her other side, Zayn scoffed. They were really good-cop and bad-cop-ing her and Zayn was undoubtedly the bad cop. “Wrong answer. We’re gonna need the full story.”

Mona really hated that Zayn knew her that well. Because the short version of the story would have been that she broke off her friendship with Niall and he tried to make amends but she was too stupid so everything went wrong. And after saying that much, she would’ve slipped away to her room to leave them to fill in the blanks.

So, she sunk into the chair, wishing that for once it would actually just swallow her up. When it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, she took another breath. When she started to talk, she realized that the words were not that difficult to come by, especially when she was feeling so empty that the sting of tears never came. She realized that she didn’t have any tears left to cry anymore. She just felt…hollow.

She ended up repeating the story she told Jingle, with the only addition being the events of yesterday. That was probably the most difficult part to get through, because she found herself having to stop at certain foggy memories which she’d spent the night before analyzing and reanalyzing and wondering what she could have done differently.

When she was done, her voice was hoarse, and she was met with silence. She’d never really known her friends to sit quietly. There was always some sort of noise of bickering or laughter or conversation whenever all of them were in the same room. Which was why it was a bit unnerving now, that none of them had anything to say.

She watched each of them carefully. Harry was slumped into his seat, chewing on his cuticles, which she’d never seen him do before. Liam had his head in his hands, eyes staring off into some distant space. Harlow had tears in her eyes, her hands over her mouth as she took in Mona’s words. But it was Zayn who made her nervous. Zayn, who knew about her deepest feelings for Niall. Zayn, who had confronted her on multiple occasions, encouraging her to tell Niall how she felt. Zayn, whose face was stony and unreadable as he sat, frozen in his place.

She decided that she couldn’t take the silence anymore. Whatever they had to say, she was sure she would hear it eventually. For now, she was exhausted. She didn’t want to do anything or see anyone, at least for the next few hours.

As she slipped away and walked quietly to her bedroom, no one stopped her.

~ Once the shock of everything had died down after a day or two, Mona realized that Harlow was upset with her.

She wasn’t just upset, she was furious actually.

Mona noticed one day when she was nibbling on a grilled cheese sandwich. Her mind had been feeling clearer now that she had started to actually get out of her bedroom and take walks outside. Harlow had always tried to diffuse any sort of tension by talking about something else or by attempting to crack a joke. Harlow was a chatterbox. Sometimes it was difficult just to shut her up.

But, Mona noticed that Harlow wasn’t talking at all. Every time she was in the same room as Mona, her lips pursed into a thin line, as if to stop any words from escaping the confines of her mouth. Or, if Mona happened to walk into the room while she was talking, conversation would suddenly cease, and Harlow would find an excuse to be elsewhere.

The realization had her heart sinking all the way down to her feet. Harlow had been her best friend since birth basically, and for her to so clearly not even want to be in the same room as Mona hurt more than anything else. Mona wondered if she should approach her about it. After all, she didn’t want to lose two people who meant the world to her in just the span of a few days.

It turned out that she didn’t have to do anything at all. Because it wasn’t long until everyone stopped tiptoeing around the topic of her and Niall and it was being addressed head on. No one had mentioned anything about it since Mona told them what had happened, but when Harry was slumping into her side one afternoon on the couch in Liam’s apartment, where she’d ended up after her walk, everyone else slowly plopping down into seats around her, she knew it was coming.

“How’re you feeling, Mo,” Harry asked her with a smile. He passed her a mug of hot chocolate and she found herself attempting to return his easy grin after she took a sip of it. No one could make hot chocolate like Niall, but still, it was the thought that count.

She thought about what to say for a moment. “I’m okay.” It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t exactly a lie either. After mulling over it for a few days, she decided that she’d just talk to Niall when he got back from Ireland. Anyway, perhaps it was best that they were spending some time apart. The circumstances weren’t ideal, obviously, but for the first time, she felt like she was able to actually think, to actually decide what Niall meant to her without him being an apartment away.

In the kitchen, Harlow scoffed. She’d been bustling around, doing the dishes, and seemingly avoiding having to be in the same vicinity as everyone else. The sound had heat flooding Mona’s cheeks, and she suddenly didn’t really have the appetite for the hot chocolate anymore, sliding it onto the coffee table in front of her.

The rest of the boys perked up at the sound too, Zayn’s eyebrows quirking upwards. “Something you wanna say, Harlow?” he asked, voice calm and collected in his typical way.

Mona watched as Harlow rolled her eyes. She found herself unwittingly sinking into the sofa cushions. When Harlow appeared from behind the cupboard door she’d been rummaging in, her usually warm brown eyes were narrowed and cold. “I think the question we should all be asking ourselves is ‘how is Niall feeling.’ Because he’s in a completely different country and won’t return any of our calls and is probably having a really difficult time right now.”

It felt as if a very large lump had somehow lodged itself in Mona’s throat, and try as she might, she couldn’t get rid of it. Her skin was burning now.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t wondered what Niall was up to. Of course she did. How could she not? How could she not think of him when he’d just abruptly left to go to Ireland at the request of his mom? After all his talk of never going back? Every second she hoped and prayed that he was okay.

This time, Liam was speaking up. “I’ve been in touch with Niall. He used his mum’s phone because he obviously doesn’t have service in Ireland, and he told me that he got there safe and that everything was okay.” Mona didn’t miss the strain in his voice that said Drop the subject, Harlow. Still, she couldn’t help but feel like some weight was lifted off her chest to hear that he was safe.

Harlow bristled at that, stalking into the room with her hands on her hips. That vein on her neck was protruding like it did whenever she was angry. “Yes, but do we know how he’s feeling? How he’s dealing with all of this? How he’s holding up after Mona broke his heart?”

Mona thought that if Harlow had just slapped her it would’ve hurt less than the words that just came out of her mouth. She tried to think of what she could do or say to make Harlow less mad at her, but deep down, she knew her anger was justified. Deep down, Mona felt the same way about herself. “Harlow—”

“Niall is surrounded by his family who care about him.” Zayn’s voice was measured in such a way that Mona knew he was getting angry too. She sunk into the sofa even further. What on earth was she going to do if everyone just got upset at each other? She watched as Zayn glared at Harlow, sitting up straight in his seat. “Mona only has us. And we need to be supportive of her now, regardless of our opinions.”

Beside her, Harry was throwing an arm across her shoulders, but when she looked up, his eyes were flitting between Zayn and Harlow. She knew he was just trying to offer her some comfort, but it only had her feeling worse. She didn’t want her friends to fight because of her.

Harlow’s nostrils flared as she tried and failed to keep her cool. “Mona doesn’t deserve our—”

“Harlow!” It was Harry’s voice this time. She felt the way he went rigid against her, and she didn’t have to look up to know that he was glaring at her. Zayn’s arm had come around her shoulders too, and it was only when she saw that Harlow was standing on the other side of the room that she realized that they were unconsciously picking sides. Zayn and Harry were on her side, arms wrapped protectively around her, and Harlow was clearly on Niall’s side.

Liam was sitting somewhere in between, but Mona knew that he would be the voice of reason in this shitshow. He would never pick a side, because he loved Mona and Niall equally.

“What?” Harlow spat out, fists clenched at her sides. “It’s true! This whole thing was just sad to watch.” Now, there were angry tears spilling out of her eyes, eyes blazing in Mona’s direction. “Niall has constantly given her his everything,” she shrieked, pointing disdainfully at Mona. “He has done nothing but love her! And she just tore his heart apart!”

And that was when Mona realized that Harlow has rooted for them since the beginning. When everyone first figured out that Mona and Niall had been sleeping together, they’d just teased them for a while and then let it go. But Harlow was the one who gushed about them to her sisters. Harlow was the one who had hushed conversations with Niall in odd corners as they made sure she was okay. Harlow was the one who schemed her way into getting them a freaking honeymoon suite in Vegas.

“I’m sorry,” Mona croaked, and Zayn’s and Harry’s arms tightened around her. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I know I fucked up and I think about it every single day. And it hurts more every single day.” Her voice cracked at every other word, but still, no tears spilled down her eyes; instead, her head was starting to spin again.

Harlow watched her coldly, and Mona couldn’t even recognize her. Where was her best friend? Harlow was never afraid to call her out on her mistakes before, but to look at her with such disdain? With such anger? That had never happened. “I don’t care,” she said, voice low and harsh. “You brought this on yourself, Namona.”

“Harlow,” Zayn breathed out in disbelief. When Mona looked up at him, he was watching Harlow like he didn’t know her at all either. “How can you even say that to her right now?”

But Harlow simply scoffed under her breath and rolled her eyes, fuming her way back to the kitchen to slam the cupboard doors around again. Mona closed her eyes and took a deep breath, wriggling out from under Zayn’s and Harry’s arms. “She’s right.” Her voice came out raspy and ragged, and she avoided meeting anyone’s eyes. “Everything she said…I deserve it.”

“Mo,” Liam started, and he sounded a bit disbelieving too, but Mona was already standing up, ready to make her escape. “No, please sit down. Let’s just talk about this, I’m sure we can work this out.”

She simply shook her head, taking a few steps before turning around to face them, keeping her eyes on her toes. “I know I did something really stupid and I’m sorry,” she started, keeping her voice loud enough she that she knew Harlow could hear. “But please don’t fight over me? I promise I’m not even worth it.” She ignored the protests coming from the three of them and trudged on. “Harlow’s right. Niall is the one who needs you guys. Not me.”

Harry huffed. “Mona. Don’t listen to Harlow, she’s just angry—”

“I’m sorry,” Mona repeated. Her lips were starting to wobble again, and she could feel herself getting dizzy from the way her head was spinning. “I just—I should just be alone. I just want to be alone.”

With that, she turned around and hurried to her room without looking back. She stopped for a moment as the door closed behind her, standing in the middle of the room with her eyes closed as she took several deep breaths to try and quell the urge to both vomit and faint. When she was feeling slightly more steady on her feet, she opened her eyes and just started to walk towards her bed when she realized that she could hear Zayn and Harlow screaming at each other from the closed door behind her.

She felt her whole spirit just crash to the ground. First, she’d broken Niall’s heart, now, she tore her friends apart. Everything she loves just gets destroyed. Maybe it would be easier to stop loving altogether.

She waited until it sounded like the apartment had emptied out before gathering a change of clothes and heading towards the bathroom. She stood under the hot shower for a while before getting dressed again and crawling into her blankets. She couldn’t think anymore.

That night, when the first wave of nightmares hit, and she thrashed and screamed herself awake, nobody came to comfort her. Not Niall, not Harlow. No one.

She was truly alone.

Just like she wanted.

Right?

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @Rebekahdarian93!

Read on AO3

*****

This Awkward Love

Derek hates parties. He doesn't like crowds or having to smile for complete strangers. He particularly hates the Hale Pack's Annual Christmas party because his parents will inevitably use it to try and set him up with their friends' children or people from allied packs. They've even done it when he wasn't single, though really the less said about the year he brought Kate Argent to the party, the better.

If it had been any other party, he might have been able to find a way out of attending—like suddenly visiting another country or drinking just enough wolfsbane-laced alcohol to send him to the hospital without risking his life—but the annual Hale Christmas party in Beacon Hills was a big deal and his parents would literally drag him here, IV bag and all, if he didn't voluntarily attend.

They know how bad he is at talking to people outside of their pack. He is the embodiment of awkward and this, right here, is a prime example. There's a gorgeous guy hanging out near the buffet table—young and skinny with large brown eyes, delicately thin hands, and a smile full of mischief—and Derek's instincts are screaming at him to go talk to the guy, that he might be The One, Derek's mate, the absolute love of his life, but his feet are rooted to the floor and all he can do is stare.

Another man approaches Derek's possibly-mate and grabs his arm. Derek has to fight down the urge to bare his teeth in challenge. He's not a jealous guy but he has the strangest urge to throw the man across the room for getting too close to his maybe-mate.

"Stiles," the man hisses, voice low, frown firmly in place, "what did you do? That werewolf looks like he's about to murder you."

Derek's eyes narrow. Who's threatening his potential mate, Stiles? He glances around but no one is looking at Stiles with more than a fleeting glance. The other attendees seem happy, for the most part. He doesn't scent any overt aggression.

"You promised you weren't going to do anything," the man says in a bit of a whine. "You promised."

Stiles places his hand on his chest and gapes at his friend with mock-affront. The move seems practiced in its theatricality. "Why, Scott, the very insinuation that I would start any kind of mischief is just absurd. I am the picture of innocence."

"Stiles..." Scott's tone is long-suffering, suggesting that Stiles and mischief are well-acquainted.

Stiles sighs and rolls his eyes. "Fine. But I haven't done anything." Scott raises an eyebrow and Stiles adds, "Yet. I swear, I haven't even talked to creeper-wolf over there." He jerks his thumb in Derek's direction.

Derek blinks. He looks behind him. There's a bare wall and a small scattering of people, none of whom are facing this way.

"And I haven't seen Peter yet, so really, what could I possibly have done?"

Stiles knows Peter? He could be referring to a different Peter—it's certainly a common enough name—but what are the chances of him meaning anyone other than Uncle Peter at a Hale function? How does Stiles know Peter? Why haven't they crossed paths before?

"Do you need me to get your dad? One of the Alphas?" Scott whispers.

Stiles rolls his eyes. "You do realize that's Alpha Hale's son, right? Derek Hale."

Shit! Shit. He's the creepy murder werewolf. He needs to look away. Anywhere else. Ceiling? No, lights are too bright. Floor? Now he looks pathetic. There! The Christmas tree. He can stare at the tree and it's like he's admiring it instead of trying too hard to not creep out his mate. Maybe mate. Probably most definitely mate.

"Hey, there's Cora. Cora!" Stiles raises his voice a little to catch Cora's attention. "Cora, come over here for a sec."

He risks a glance at his sister. She's got a glass of cider on one hand. She walks up to them with a familiar, "Yo! What's up, Stiles?"

Does everyone in his family know Stiles? This could be bad for him. Gods, if Stiles knows Laura there will be no end to the embarrassing stories.

"Did I do something to piss off your brother?" Stiles asks. He sounds more amused than concerned. "He's glaring some serious daggers my way."

"I didn't know you two had even met," Cora says. Which is true. They haven't. Until now, but that really doesn't count if he hasn't actually said a word to Stiles. Or come within three feet of him.

"We haven't," Stiles agrees. "Did Peter say something? I feel like this could be one of Peter's pranks, in which case my revenge will be swift and glorious."

"Not that I've heard and Peter usually tells me his evil plans." There's a slight pause where none of them speak and Derek stares very hard at a snowflake ornament on the tree so he doesn't look at Stiles.

"I think he's planning to murder the tree now," Stiles says. His amusement is obvious.

Cora sighs. "Derek, what are you being all pissy about?"

He frowns and scuffs his foot against the carpet. "I'm not being pissy," he mutters back.

"Did you swallow a lemon?" Stiles snorts. "Seriously, why are you mad at Stiles?"

He huffs and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "I'm not mad."

"Then what are you doing?"

He considers hiding in the woods until the party's over but the only direction his body wants to move is closer to Stiles.

"Do I need to get Laura?" Cora threatens.

His cheeks flame red at the very suggestion. "Ithinkhe'smymate," he says, all in one breath.

He dares a glance over. Cora is frowning at him. Next to her, Stiles is watching him, bemused. Scott keeps looking back and forth between Stiles and Derek like he's waiting for a fight to break out.

Cora raises an eyebrow when she notices him looking. "I'm sorry, try again. Maybe in English this time."

He sighs. He's never going to hear the end of this. Ever. Laura is going to put the story on his tombstone. "I think," he says slowly, "he's my mate."

Someone tackles Derek from behind, sending him stumbling. He barely avoids falling on his face. "What the hell?" He turns to find Laura standing there with an insane grin.

"Who's your mate?" Laura asks, voice full of excitement. She even bounces a little.

"He is," Cora says, pointing at Stiles, who looks very confused.

"I'm what?" Stiles asks.

"Going to meet my brother," Cora answers. She grabs Stiles by the arm at the same time as Laura grabs Derek's arm. They're both dragged across the room to meet in the middle. "Stiles, meet my brother, Derek. He wants to make babies with you."

Laura gives Derek an extra push toward Stiles. He shoots Laura a quick glare and then rubs the back of his head. He's not sure his face can get redder but he's about to find out. "Um, hi." He can't quite bring himself to look straight at Stiles. He doesn't want to come off as creepy. Again.

"Hi," Stiles says, voice thick with humor. "I'm Stiles. I require at least one proper date before there's any attempt at making babies. Which, given we're both guys, babies are highly unlikely to occur but I'm willing to put in the effort." He holds out his hand. His smile is absolutely blinding. Cora and Laura can both hear the way it makes Derek's heart skip a beat.

Derek stares at the appendage. This is it, the turning point of his life. If he takes Stiles's hand, it will confirm what his instincts already know. If he doesn't.... Well, that's not really an option.

He takes Stiles's hand in his. Electricity courses through his body, setting his nerves alight. In the space of an instant, he's broken apart and remade anew, his very being reshaped to include Stiles. He can feel Stiles's presence. Stiles is his personal North Star, a guiding light that pulls Derek home. Stiles's scent is so thick, Derek can taste it—electricity and midnight rain and freshly turned earth.

"Oh," Stiles says after a minute. His eyes are wide as saucers. He hasn't let go of Derek's hand.

Cora claps them both on the shoulder, startling them into letting go. "Well, my work here is done. You kids have a lovely time and don't start humping at the party, Mom will kill you."

Oh, gods, his parents are going to be insufferable. They'll announce it over the loudspeakers and pull him and Stiles up on stage. He has to get out of here. At least finding his mate will make a good excuse. They can't fault him for wanting to spend time strengthening the bond with his mate.

"Dinner?" Derek blurts.

Stiles blinks and his face shifts back to that amused grin he had before. "It's a thing I enjoy, yeah."

"We should..." Derek swallows. "Do you want to? Now?"

There's something soft in the way Stiles looks at him. Almost fond, growing fonder. "You mean, would I like to have dinner with you?"

"Yes." Derek nods. "That."

Stiles moves to Derek's side and wraps his arm around Derek's elbow. "I'd love to. For future reference, I love diners and curly fries are the food of the gods."

Derek nods, far more solemn than the situation calls for but he wants to do everything he can to please his mate. "I can do curly fries."

[lambroseforlife]

Hey! I’d like to see what would’ve happened if Lily wanted to be with James Carter in silence is breaking, you know the chapter when he wanted her to marry him

This prompt pretty much goes against my username but hey, people need to be pushed out of their writing comfort zone for improvement, right? So here we go. This is written in first-person POV and set in the same canon universe with a timeline that diverges from Silence Breaking, Chapter 25: “Romance in the Air”.

⚠️WARNING: Hardcore lambrose shippers or those who haven’t Silence Breaking yet and want to avoid spoilers, DON’T read this oneshot!! ⚠️

**DISCLAIMER: The text in  is from the main series and NOT my writing. The beginning contains an excerpt taken from Silence Breaking, Chapter 25 and I used a quote later on from Storm and Silence, Chapter 69: “Seeing Stars”. Both were written by Robert Thier. I do NOT claim credit for them at all and am incorporating it merely for the purpose of transitioning/recap into this canon divergence oneshot**

— — —

‘Miss Lillian Linton, I love you. I love your fiery spirit. I love the way you dance and laugh and live to the full, and always fight for what you believe in. Will you—’

‘—marry me?’ I guessed.

‘Bloody hell, that was supposed to be my proposal!’

I smiled up at him apologetically. ‘Sorry.’

Silence stretched between us. I gazed up into his face, the face of one of my best friends in all the world, and wondered how things had come to this? How had I not seen this in him before that day in Newcastle? How could I have missed it?

‘Well?’ he asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper. ‘Will you?’

I bit my lip, trying to find the right words to say. Blast! How did one reject a proposal from someone they were quite fond of?

My mouth opened to speak. 

And closed.

Damn it! Why was it so hard to tell him no? The romance novels that my sisters read made it look simple. Reject the roguish suitor maliciously pining for the heroine’s affections. There, problem solved.

So why wasn’t it working here?

Captain Carter looked at me expectantly, still waiting for my answer. The heat emanating from his hand burned into mine. That must have been the reason my ears suddenly tinged red.

‘Captain Carter, I…’

I hesitated.

Do it, Lilly! Turn down his proposal now! With a firm, resounding “no”!

But he looked so sincere. His warm brown eyes created a snug, comfortable shelter that enveloped us. One that even the biting cold couldn’t pierce through.

Just tell him how you feel already! What are you waiting for?

Therein lay the problem.

How did I feel about him?

Did I love Captain James Carter? No. I knew that I definitely didn’t. But…

I possibly could with time. In a different universe, in different circumstances and under different rules.

But why couldn’t that be in this one?

‘Miss Linton?’ My eyes focused back on Captain Carter. His voice sounded alarmed. His other hand reached out and gently clasped my chin, lifting it.

‘Are you unwell?’ Yes, definitely alarm. ‘Should we head back instead? We can resume this later if you need more time to give me an answer.’

‘Please, I am all right.’ Did the soft, breathless voice really belong to me? ‘There is much I wish to say, but I am unsure of where to begin.’

‘Are you sure you are not ill?’ Concern shone in his eyes.

‘I am sure. Please, I need a minute to gather my thoughts.’

Did I say “please” twice? Dear me, the cold must have affected my brain.

‘Very well.’ He frowned and released his hands, taking a step back. ‘Take all the time you need.’

A roguish suitor with charm and manners? My, this was more difficult than I expected.

An unbidden thought crossed my mind. Maybe he wasn’t confined to be just the roguish suitor.

Perhaps he was meant to be more.

Are you insane? My inner voice screamed at me. What about a certain cold employer that you have been clandestinely conducting an affair with for the past year?

And there presented itself another teeny, tiny problem. Clandestine as in secretive. Ergo, no one would ever know about Mr Ambrose and I. We were polar opposites from two completely different worlds.

Maybe his path and mine could never completely overlap. Touch, yes. But how long could ice and fire remain intact when in contact?

The answer was simple. Not for very long.

He was a chauvinist. And I a feminist. He represented everything I believed against and I the same for him.

But he still hired you. Protected you. Trusted you. Maybe even lov—

I clamped down on that thought. Working for him hadn’t been easy, regardless. More like painstakingly challenging. Gruelling. It had been quite the experience.

Is that good or bad?

Both.

But back to the matter at hand. What was it again?

Oh, right. Captain Carter’s proposal.

Why couldn’t I say no?

Maybe it was because, deep down, I already knew. He was someone who wholeheartedly accepted me. Openly embraced how I was without question. With him, there were no disguises, no alter egos involved. With him, I could be myself. Rejecting him would be throwing away a golden opportunity for an easy and happy life.

Easy, yes. But happy? You could be happy with someone else. A certain obnoxiously rich miser…

Who kept his wallet and probably his heart stuffed up that his firm derrière of his. That very one?

Aren’t you supposed to be a feminist? Considering marriage over your career? Where is your sense of dignity as an independent, hard-working woman?

Still with me and completely intact, thank you very much!

Marriage over my job? That sounded counter-intuitive in regards to what I valued the most.

My freedom. My independence.

But was I really free and independent while working for Mr Ambrose?

He expected complete submission from all his employees. And I was no exception. He made it clear that for him, money came first. Always. He was driven by profits, sales and all matters centreing on monetary gain. Mammon forbid anything come in between him and his precious purse, let alone taxes or strange urges for romantic affection to a woman.

‘Oh you’ll have money…you still won’t be free, though.’ I recalled his words from a drunken night in his office long ago. ‘Just like in marriage, you’ll still be tied to a man— to me.’

I scowled. Working for him would be no different than being married to him. He would demand obedience from anyone tied to him as long as it involved a contract.

Wait. What?

Marriage? With Mr Ambrose? Why was I thinking about him when another man had proposed to me barely minutes ago? Even with said man still patiently waiting for my response?

Because you’re in love with Rikkard Ambrose.

Stupid inner voice of mine! Couldn’t it shut up for two minutes while I tried to think?

Silence.

Ah, much better. Now back to my previous thought.

Plausibly, if Mr Ambrose were to ever take leave of his senses and fully reciprocate my feelings for him, one of two things would happen.

One: Carry on as if nothing changed. Our dalliances would continue behind closed doors and in the dark. While our outward appearance of boss and secretary resumed during business hours and in public.

Two: Propose marriage to me.

The first option didn’t sound so bad until recently. Our relationship had changed since the other guests arrived at Battlewood. Frighteningly, not for the better. It felt like we were caught in a cat-and-mouse situation. Constantly exchanging roles in a battle for power.

Was it normal to not trust the person you love?

Until coming to Battlewood, I had trusted Mr Ambrose unconditionally. We’d had each others backs in France, in the sand-ridden desert, and in the war-ridden jungles of South America. I trusted him with my life. He trusted me with his. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have survived.

But could I trust him with my heart?

I wasn’t so sure anymore. Ever since Captain Carter’s arrival, he had shown a more…violent side of himself. But not completely in the physical sense. Since Newcastle, something dark and intense festered away inside him. Something more terrifying than thrilling. I could be sitting next to him but he still would be miles away. Unreachable. Impenetrable. Cased inside that stone mask he wore. 

Jealousy and isolation were two weapons he wielded well. Even better than the revolver on his holster. He staked a claim on me, not allowing other men to approach me while he let other women flirt with him freely, even reciprocating at times. The memory of his hypocrisy was enough to drive ice through my veins.

I had tried to reach through to him, to explain. But he wouldn’t listen. He was too stubborn and hard-headed. Thus, I had been forced to resort to more drastic measures. All to ensure the dear captain’s safety. I had attempted to use Mr Ambrose’s strategy: conduct a business transaction of sorts. But he had proven his vast experience. Once again, he was the calculating feline and I the outwitted prey.

Suppose that in the highly unlikely, extremely bizarre occurrence (even in an imaginary situation) that Mr Ambrose chose the second option, proposing matrimony. What then? Our relationship would still unlikely improve. Marriage was a certified way for men to obtain power on par with that of monarchs. Wives were their subjects, duly vulnerable to being tyrannised and subjugated to a husband’s will. In stories that my friends had told me, some were even physically beaten.

If Mr Ambrose was this restrictive already, then how much worse would he be if I were to marry him?

A harrowing chill settled to my very bones.

I knew that Mr Ambrose was never the type to raise his hand to a female. But that didn’t exclude other ways he could control others. A powerful man like him thrived on dominance and authority. For him, marriage would be perceived as a way to exercise that. The standard wedding vows required a wife to pledge submission and obedience to her husband at the altar. Vows that I refused to agree with.

Vows that Mr Ambrose would definitely enforce, seeing it as the terms outlined for a contract.

Isn’t he doing that already? You are one of his employees, contracted to him.

Yes, but I had willingly done so, seeing it as trade for a salary. An earning that would grant me the freedom I craved. Anytime I wished to do so, I could resign from my job. I was only legally bound during the period of employment. Marriage on the other hand…

Marriage was permanent. In sickness and in health. For better or for worse. Until death.

However if he loved me enough to propose…

Then he wouldn’t dare to demand from me. Not if he valued his head intact!

But then again…

Would it really be a surprise if he did? Considering his recent disregard towards everything I had said to him?

Probably not.

Knowing him, he wouldn’t even bother to propose properly. Oh no, that would be an utter waste of time for Mister “knowledge is power is time is money” Ambrose. He would most likely order for my hand in marriage and automatically expect a “yes, sir!”

My nostrils flared. Why was it that only now, after working for the blasted miser for almost a year and a half, that I realised how trapped I was? 

Perhaps, that nasty inner voice of mine whispered vindictively, because another alternative has presented itself.

I had viewed money as a means to earn my freedom. To be financially independent from my aunt and uncle without being restrained by another man. Only in the process to lose both myself and all possibility of obtaining it once I had fallen for a man who was the paragon of control.

And now, it seemed that I had a slim chance of obtaining my freedom again. In the one way that I had deemed as being the most restrictive.

The irony made me smile humourlessly.

I loved Rikkard Ambrose, I really did.

But what was more important, my heart or my soul? 

I couldn’t keep both. One had to be sacrificed.

If I rejected Captain Carter, then inevitably I would choose Mr Ambrose. Eventually, I would lose my soul, my morals and all that I had fought for. With Mr Ambrose, I might be happy for a short while. But I couldn’t be myself. I would be a bird ensnared in a cage for the rest of my life.

If I chose Captain Carter, then I would reject Mr Ambrose. My heart would be broken and with it, the capacity to love someone again wholly. It would be a burden to the good captain, having to pick up the pieces for someone who didn’t reciprocate his love. A kind person like him didn’t deserve to be second place to a memory.

I sighed.

“Well?” The captain’s voice drifted over from the grove of trees. He was leaning against one of them, the back of his bright red military coat facing me. “Have you gathered your thoughts, Miss Linton?”

“Um, yes.” I looked down.

Polished black boots entered my vision and I looked up to see Captain Carter approaching me.

‘There’s someone else, isn’t there?’

I instantly knew what he meant.

‘Yes. And no.’

‘I beg your pardon, Miss Linton?’ His brow furrowed.

‘There…is someone else.’ His face fell. ‘But…’

‘But?’

‘Even though he is what I wanted, I’m…not sure if he is what I need now.’

His eyes narrowed.‘Did he do something bad? Has he hurt you?’ He took my hands into his again.

‘No. No, he hasn’t but…’ I trailed off, shaking my head.

At least not physically.

He squeezed my hands gently and a painful sensation tugged at my heart. On cue, something slipped out of my eye and slid down my cheek. Another. And another.

If I had thought that Captain Carter was alarmed before, then it was nothing compared to his expression now. Releasing my hands, he reached into his trouser pocket and tugged. He silently pulled out a handkerchief and held it out to me.

‘Thank you.’ I accepted it.

Wiping my face, I looked at him again while clutching the damp cloth. ‘I apologise. After you asked your question, I had a revelation of sorts. A painful one.’

He waited for me to continue.

‘I realised someone who I have feelings for, that he and I may not belong together.’

‘Why is that?’ He was solemn.

‘We always argue. And hurt each other. Even from the start, we didn’t exactly get along. I…’ I took a deep breath. ‘Loving him is painful. I don’t know if I can anymore.’

Captain Carter took a step forward. He was standing merely inches away, those sincere, brown eyes of his boring downwards into my own.

‘You deserve better.’

I met his gaze head-on, refusing to look away.

‘Can you offer me better?’ My voice trembled.

‘I don’t know,’ he whispered. ‘But all I know that is that I would spend my entire life trying, Lilly. If you would permit me.’

‘I don’t love you like you love me.’

‘I have enough love to carry the both of us.’

‘I’m a feminist.’

‘One of my favourite things about you.’

‘I don’t want to be an appendage to a man.’

‘And you won’t. Not to me. We will be equal partnerssupporting each other.’

‘I refuse to agree to theobedience and submission part of the wedding vows.’

‘Then I’ll have the priestexclude them.’

I gaped at him in shock. ‘Really? You would do that for me?’

‘I would.’ His lips curvedinto one of his old smiles that I knew and enjoyed so much. ‘Just for you.’

‘I love travelling.’ A hint of amusement tinged my voice. ‘Would you bring me along on your military expeditions?’

‘Yes. Except for the most dangerous ones.’

I stared as he dropped to one knee. With one hand, he withdrew a ring from his pocket and took hold of my left hand using the other. 

‘Miss Lillian Linton…will you do me the immense honour of becoming my wife?’

I swallowed, hard, and softly uttered the dreaded word that would change everything forever.

‘Yes.’

He slipped the simple gold band onto my ring finger. It was a bit tight but still managed to fit.

He brought my hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on the back. With an expression that could only be described as smitten, unwavering adoration, he looked up at me.  

I tried to smile. I honestly did. But my lips only twitched upwards.

Captain Carter stood up and pulled me into a warm embrace. My arms wrapped around him numbly. My heart hammered nervously in my ears. He must have asked me something and expected a response for in the next moment, he pulled away with a questioning look.

He opened his mouth to speak and—

‘Am I interrupting something?’

A horribly familiar voice cut through the air. Sharp and curt. Dread crawled up my spine.

A tall, menacing figure appeared into view from behind the trees. I looked at the ground. The tree branches. Anywhere but him.

Captain Carter spoke up. ‘As a matter of fact, yes.’

‘Indeed?’ I had never heard that word spoken with so much hostility. Not until now.

‘I was speaking with my future wife here. Is there something you need?’

‘Yes. I need Miss Linton’s help to locate her brother for a business discussion.’

‘I can help you find him.’ I looked up at Captain Carter only, refusing to make eye contact with him. I could feel his wintry gaze boring into me. It sent chills throughout my body. ‘May I take my leave for now?’

‘Of, course. I’ll head back to the manor and inform everyone of the good news.’

Oh, right. The good news of my recent engagement.

Blast!

He brought my hand— the one with the sparkly gold band on it— to his lips and pressed another kiss to it.

If the air had been frozen before, then it was positively frigid now. Knots of  terrible foreboding built in my stomach. However, the captain didn’t detect anything and with an ‘Until later, my love,’ departed into the distance.

‘My love?’ I risked a glance up at him to see a pair of hands pounce towards me. The next moment I was picked up by my shoulders. My back slammed with impact against one of the trees. His hands released me, only to curl into fists that rested on each side of my head, preventing any escape.

Shivering, I gazed up into his dark, sea-coloured eyes. Eyes that reflected rage. Confusion.

Betrayal.

‘What was that?’ His voice carried the force of a thousand hydras, hellbent on destruction.

‘I-I’m guessing you heard?’ Crap! Why was my voice so squeaky?

He leaned in, pinning me in place with his deadly stare. ‘Every. Single. Word.’

I gulped. ‘Then I don’t need to say anything.’

‘I couldn’t disagree more. You owe me an explanation, Mr Linton.’

‘I don’t owe you anything. Except a resignation letter.’ I struggled to keep my voice steady. My breath came out in pants.

A storm roiled in those terrifyingly beautiful eyes of his.

‘You are mine. You aren’t going anywhere without my permission.’

He lunged forward and instinctively, I knew what he was going to do. Panic surged through me. 

On reflex, my hand moved of its own accord.

Before his lips could make contact with mine, I slapped his cheek. The sound echoed throughout the trees.

He stumbled back in surprise. His hard hand reached up to graze the area where an angry red handprint was now forming.

Silence reigned.

After a long time, he finally spoke.

‘Just tell me why. Why you chose him.’ 

Was his voice hoarse?

‘Because of you,’ I whispered. Moisture clouded my vision. ‘I wanted my freedom.’

‘Me?’ His jaw tightened. ‘Explain to me, Mr Linton, how running from one man into the arms of another grants you the freedom that you speak of. I fail to see the effectiveness.’

‘You were restricting me. Treating me like one of your possessions. To you, I’m a rare creature meant to be put into a cage. But that’s not who I am.’

‘And where does the captain factor into all this?’

‘He…understands me. Maybe not completely. But what you want to control of me, he accepts. Openly.’

Silence. His pinkie twitched in a steady rhythm.

I continued. ‘The matter came to choosing between me and you. Like you, I decided to be selfish for once. So I chose me. Since you wouldn’t.’

He still said nothing.

‘It’s too late, Mr Ambrose. I’ve made my choice.’

‘This,’ he said, his voice promising retribution from the deepest Arctic tundras in the coldest of winters, ‘this is not over, Mr Linton.’

He whirled around and marched away, his hands clenched into fists. In the process, ripping my heart out and stealing it with him as I knew he would.

I slumped against the tree.

But it was over.

He just didn’t realise it yet.

— — —

Well, I hope you were able to make it until the end to read it. I did my best to channel book 1 Lilly since she was more introspective and firmly set on her core beliefs. I hope she isn’t too out of character here but then again, her choosing Carter is an action out of character itself in regards to the entire series. And one not without drastic effects. 

Wondering why this had such an angsty ending and not a happy one? Well, keep in mind of how possessive and emotionally unstable Mr Ambrose’s character was presented as in Silence Breaking. I wanted to stay consistent to that for this prompt. 

We already read how he tried to have Carter added to the waste disposal list and had Karim “guard” Lilly before Carter even proposed to her all out of his own fear. We even saw what he did to Captain Carter despite Lilly rejecting his proposal in Chapter 27. So riddle me this, what do you think Mr Ambrose would have ultimately done if Lilly had said yes instead? I will leave that to the worst of your imaginations.

Hardcore lambrose shippers, please don’t hate me for this. I just tried to answer this prompt to the best of my abilities. Writing this was quite challenging for me, both mentally and emotionally, so I imagine it must be the same, if not worse for some of you readers as well. Or hey, maybe you’re completely anti-lambrose and did a happy dance while reading this. Either way, I hope that this caught your attention at the very least.

[natthephanlover]

What do I zoo?

I am very sorry for the title.

Summary-Dan and Phil are dating, and Dan has been desperately trying to get Phil to join his friends instead of staying with his mean ones. Maybe all of that will change when Dan has a panic attack at a zoo. 

This is my first fic and i would highly appreciate any feedback you could give me. :)

\\\\

Dan was just about to open his locker when he felt arms wrap loosely around his waist. He strained his neck to look behind himself at Phil, who looked like he hadn’t had his usually obscene amount of coffee.

“I woke up late and didn’t get to have any coffee before I left. I had to drink it on the way to school Dan, it was horrible. I’ve only had a cup so far and I just want to go back to bed.” By now his face was shoved on top of Dan’s shoulder as Dan tried to put all of the things he didn’t need away.

“And here I thought you were sad about seeing the penguins. Really made me worried there bud, as yesterday you might have actually squealed when you talked about them.” Dan said, as the whole biology class was going to the zoo today.

“No, pretty stoked actually. It was the only way my parents could bribe me out of bed this morning. I just wish I could have grouped with you.” Phil said as he lifted his head and pouted at Dan. He turned to look at Phil again, this time pecking him on the lips.

“Oh come on Phil, no one wants to see you and him making out, it’s disgusting.” Ah, and how Dan wished that Phil would leave his current friend group. Phil blushed horribly as he jumped away from Dan, looking over at Jace, who was walking up with Kai and Mick.

“Sorry, um are you guys excited for today?” Phil asked, still blushing.

“Excited for what, seeing animals? I feel like Mrs. Matthews thinks we’re all five or something. Explains why you’re excited Phil.” Jace scoffed and his minions laughed a bit too loudly for the cringy joke that a five year old could make, just saying. Dan leaned over to Phil and whispered that he might see him later if he’s lucky, and kissed him on the cheek just to see the three douche’s faces. He waved and left to wait for his friends to show up.

He had tried many times to convince Phil to come over to Dan’s friend group, but Phil won’t budge. He says that “sometimes they aren’t that bad” or “if I leave then they might become bullies because they won’t have me to bother anymore”. While it could be true, and Phil always smiles his way out of the conversation, Dan can tell that his smile is not very sincere.

“Dan Howell I am going to scream if we don’t see the sloths first.” said Keith as he walked to his locker, which Dan was currently leaning against. Dan pushed himself off of it with a smirk and stood behind Keith so that he could sort through his things. Keith is a very excitable sloth enthusiast who had been friends with Dan for four years.

“Whatever you say, it’s fine with me,” Dan said, and as Keith started to get even more excited, continued, “but it isn’t me you need to convince-it’s Rory.” And there goes the classic Keith eye roll. Rory was by far the ‘leader’ of their group. But unlike Phil’s friend group, Rory being the leader meant that he was their protector. All of them were kind of targets for hateful remarks, and they don’t really defend themselves because. . .well because they’re terrified to. Especially Lily-the newest addition to their group of losers. She was new last year, and constantly had the look of a startled deer, so Rory decided to take her under his wing and now she’s in the clan of four.  She is very shy, even around the group, but she is the sweetest bean Dan had ever met-besides Phil.

Dan and Phil met each other in eighth grade, they were in the same algebra class and started to hang out with each other as no one else would pick them for groups. They were kind of forced together in a way, but Dan could never be happier that it happened.

\\\\

Dan spotted Phil as he boarded the school bus, and for a second his heart jumped because he thought he could sit by him, but he was sitting by Mick. Then he remembered that if Phil was with him, then Phil would get bullied. Mick is probably the most tame from Phil’s group. Phil is his neighbor and their families are best friends. Maybe Phil thought that he would have no one if he didn’t join the group that Mick was in, but he would have people now and it still makes Dan angry. Instead of showing that internalized anger, he just smiled at him when he caught his eye, and sat down by Rory.

“He’s still hanging out with those guys, seriously.” Rory exclaimed, probably a bit too loudly. Rory had always wanted to be able to protect Phil as well, but Phil wouldn’t leave.

“Yeah, I think I’ve finally gotten through to him a bit but he still won’t leave them.” It was true. Dan was starting to notice Phil’s face getting filled with hope at the possibility of having true friends when Dan would give him the option, but then that hopefulness would fall as Phil’s doubts took over.

“Well I hope he joins us soon, its sad seeing someone who you care about looking so miserable around people who are supposed to be his friends.” Tell me about it.  

\\\\

They ended up going to see the sloths first, as according to Rory ‘no one can resist Keith's begging face’ which is a fair point. Lily actually seemed to be comfortable today, she didn’t jump as much and she gave input in their conversations.

About a fourth of the way through their visit, Dan had to go to the bathroom. He told the group and they said they would wait for him by the lions. It might have been a good idea for Dan to have remembered where the lions were and did Dan mention that his biggest fear is getting lost. Dan tried desperately to find a map but he couldn’t, especially with the tears starting to blur his vision. After that he could feel that air was not going into his lungs as they should be and-yep there goes the hyperventilation.

Dan started speed walking while turning his head in every direction, probably looking insane with tears streaming down his face. After walking for about two minutes, he spotted not his friends or the lions, but Kai-the most physically abusive of Phil’s friends. While Jace relied on mean remarks, Kai shoved people and tripped them every chance he got. But hey, Kai being there meant that Phil wasn’t that far away.

Dan, despite his heart beating even faster than previously, walked towards Kai. No, he wasn’t going to talk to him, just watch him to see if he goes to where Phil is. Turns out he does, as in less than five seconds of watching him Kai runs back up to where the rest of Phil’s group is. Oh Dan is gonna look like a fool but this is slightly-less-hyperventilating-because oh there’s a solution-Dan’s only option. Dan starts running over and discreetly walks around to the front of the group, then turns around because obviously he has to act casual. Dan starts to realize his flaw as Phil’s face immediately grows with concern and oh right, Dan had been crying freaking rivers.

Deciding to just screw casual Dan runs into Phil’s arms and balls, because he was stressed and Phil makes him release his stress and if that release is by crying then so be it.

“Oh baby whats wrong, are you okay? No Phil obviously he’s not okay you dingus-”

“Get him away from here, the fairy boy has his other fairy friends to cry on.” Jace said and then made a gagging noise, how wonderful of a human being.

“Lets go sit on the bench okay?” Phil whispered in Dan’s ear. He nodded and they started walking towards the edge of the huge path.

“Don’t wait up for me guys, you can go.” Phil called over his shoulder as they left, although they both knew that they had already started walking away. It just helped Phil feel more appreciated.

They sat on the bench with Dan cuddled into Phil’s side until he calmed down enough to talk, and then Dan started rambling all of the events that had happened that led to his panic attack.

“Did you try calling them?” Phil questioned as Dan face palmed.

“No cause I am a stupid person who forgets basic solutions in times of crisis.” Phil just giggled and asked Dan to guide him towards the bathroom he used, and oh wow there they were. Of course Rory had one of those portable zoo maps with him. Rory was just taking his phone out of his pocket, to call Dan he supposed when they walked up. When Rory saw Dan he immediately was swept up in a lanky hug, and then everyone started talking.

“Where did you go are you okay-”

”We waited by the lions but then Keith saw funnel cake, but the line was ridiculous, we thought that you might have gotten lost when you didn’t come back after a while but we couldn’t leave until Keith got his god damn funnel cake.” Keith then held up a funnel cake as proof as Lily glared at him. And Dan had never seen Lily get so feisty, it was exciting.

“We are so sorry we didn’t think Keith would be gone long.” Rory said, his arms finally releasing me. His eyes then wandered up about four inches behind me.

“Oh hi Phil.”

\\\\

Phil spent the rest of the day with their group and Dan had never had so much fun. Usually even in his happiest moments with his friends he would wish that he could share them with Phil, but Phil was there. On the bus Phil found his ‘friends’ and told them that he didn’t want to hang out with them anymore, to put it simple, although Dan thought he heard a few words from both parties that he didn’t want to repeat. Dan napped on Phil’s shoulder the rest of the way back to the school as Phil got to know his friends better. It was a weekend which meant that Dan would be staying at Phil's house for the night, as per tradition.

\\\\

Dan and Phil could finally say that they were content in life, and that is all they had ever asked for.

The enderino.

Ta-ta for now my dudes-Nat

[review-saas]

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[terresdebrumestories]

Playing house

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Saint Seiya SERIES: None (but it is TBU - compatible) RATING: Teen and Up WORDCOUNT: 1 200 PAIRING(S): - CHARACTER(S): Pisces Aphrodite, Scorpius Milo GENRE: Budding friendships TRIGGER WARNING(S): None SUMMARY: Aphrodite need to do some shopping. Milo is...not exactly overwhelmed with enthusiasm at the prospect. DEDICATION(S): - NOTE(S): Rwritten on a prompt from @dreamychaos : #90 “I’m not buying IKEA furniture again.” I feel like I could have gone further with the humorous aspects of this but it’ll be 1am soon and I’ve just realized I have to get up earlier than usual tomorrow so...have this as a first response! I’ll try to touch it up this weekend, see if I can do better on the funny scale :P

Thanks for giving me my first occasion to write a non-antagonistic Milo though :3

✗ THE FIC

“You are aware that you’re being a gigantic killjoy, right?”

Milo rolls his eyes, and Aphrodite bites on a sigh. Say what you want about painfully prideful people, but they are ridiculously easy to get where you want them to, provided you know which way they’ll run and when to stop with the goading. Milo, whose notion of honor lies in principles rather than arrogance or insecurities, has an infuriating tendency not to move at all, and Aphrodite has yet to figure his buttons out.

“Come on,” Aphrodite insists again, just in case, “it’s just a little bit of interior decoration!”

“Stop insisting,” Milo says while he drops something that smells like jasmine in his latest perfume vial, “I’m not buying IKEA furniture again.”

“It’s just a couple of wood planks!”

Aphrodite should, probably, be a little embarrassed at how whiny he sounds right now, but if he didn’t learn to maintain classical masculine pride up until now, he’s certainly not going to start just because Milo is being an uncooperative butt. Besides, you never know: if goading him doesn’t work, maybe being annoying will.

“They’re in Paris!” Milo snaps, finally turning away from his project, and almost pops a vein when Aphrodite shrugs:

“Actually the town’s called Bobigny.”

It’s highly probable Aphrodite enjoys the twitch of Milo’s eye more than he should. It’s not even revenge anymore at this point, just the pure, unadulterated joy of being a shithead just because he can. Sure, it got Aphrodite socked in the face more than a couple time but hey, that’s the price to pay when you like playing with people’s nerves.

“Aphrodite. I’m not running three thousand kilometers just so you can tell me you don’t like the shape of a closet or the color of glasses.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Aphrodite promises, “since I’m coming with you.”

He’s got to admit he’s kind of impressed with the way Milo manages to choke on thin air.

“You want me to do a twenty-eight hours drive just so you can buy a couple of closets?”

“No,” Aphrodite says, allowing just enough of a silence between them for Milo to start dreaming about relief before he finishes: “I want to buy a furnished kitchen, a bedroom set and enough bookcases to fill an entire room with them.”

Scratch that bit about choking—Milo’s face at that last bit deserves to be framed and mounted on a wall. He goes crimson in the blink of an eye, hair all but raising up on his head as he tries to figure out the proper order of words to express how insane Aphrodite is exactly. It’s an expression Aphrodite is very familiar with, if only because Anchise wears it awfully often around him.

In the end, unlike Anchise, Milo deflates and sighs like the weight of the world just fell back on his shoulders before he runs a hand over his face and sighs:

“Fine. For you to insist that much it must be important—”

“Oh, shove your entire honor up your ass, Manicure,” Aphrodite snaps, shoving at Milo’s shoulder without restraint, “I don’t need a knight in golden armor!”

Milo pauses, clearly confused, and Aphrodite has to rein in an eye roll of his own. He knows exactly what Milo is about to say, and it does nothing but solidify his conviction that the next god he meets will get a solid punch in the nose. Possibly somewhere it hurts more.

“I...just said I’d do what you want me to?”

“No,” Aphrodite counters with a concerted effort not to sound like he’s addressing a toddler, “you just said ‘I don’t want to do this but I’m too noble to say no’. What I want to hear is ‘fine, I’ll do it ‘cause we’re friends’.”

“Is ‘I’ll do it because you’re being a thorn in my side’ an acceptable substitute or is that a Death Mask exclusivity?”

Aphrodite glares at the dig, and Milo’s expression shifts to constipated apology before he really has time to enjoy his bit of cleverness. To be fair, it’s not like Anchise doesn’t do the same when discussing Milo with Aphrodite, but Aphrodite doesn’t let him get away with it either. Besides, ‘I’m doing this to make you shut up’ may be what people hear when Anchise speaks, but it’s not what he says.

Aphrodite just doesn’t expect the others to realize that anytime soon.

“Right,” Milo mutters, reluctant but sincere, “sorry. Look, is it really that important to you?”

“I know I like being annoying,” Aphrodite replies with a roll of his eyes, “but I do know when to quit a joke.”

Milo looks at him for a long time, speculative face on, and Aphrodite can’t help but remember how much of a snotty asshole Camus was as a child. Used to look down on the rest, that one, too proud of his own smarts for his own good, constantly reminding everyone he was the smartest in the Sanctuary, until they were all separated for their out-of-bounds training. Milo got into a lot of stupid shit, as a kid, but he and Camus were friends since day one.

Maybe it’s not that surprising that he ends up sighing, softer but somehow more tired, and not-quite-asking:

“It’s for him, isn’t it?”

“I would have asked someone else but Saga’s not in a state to face the outside world, and experience showed Shaka is the worst shopping partner in the universe. That makes you my only real option.”

It’s easy to see the moment Milo decides not to ask why Anchise can’t come and shop for his own new furniture. Aphrodite isn’t sure what stops the words from spilling out: friendship for him? Principled refusal to get involved in  fellow Saint’s issues? An unshakable dislike of anything Anchise-related? It’s anyone’s guess, really. Most likely, it’s a mix of the three, but either way, Milo stops short of asking the difficult question, and Aphrodite gives him a thankful smile for it.

He’s not sure these two will ever manage to tolerate each other, but if they can learn to pretend like they don’t actually hate each other’s guts Aphrodite is willing to take it.

“Alright,” Milo says at last, a rueful smile playing at the edge of his lips, “I’ll come along...but we’re doing doing some tourism as well.”

“Of course! I think I might manage to arrange a visit in a perfumer’s workshop, if you want.”

Milo’s face brightens at the prospect, surprisingly enthusiastic about getting to smell a ton of things Aphrodite wouldn’t be able to tell apart if his life depended on it. It’s the good part of being friends with the guy: once you start figuring out what he likes, he actually has very few restraints about showing he’s pleased. Sometimes, that kind of easy response is a refreshing change from the abysses of subtlety wrapped around Aphrodite’s relationship with Anchise.

“Oh, one last thing,” Milo says, one finger raising up as if to silence Aphrodite’s question, “you’re driving. The whole way there.”

This time it’s Aphrodite’s time to choke on thin air, but it’s okay. He’ll just make sure to play terrible pop cassette tapes the whole time.

[smartoptionsio]

A Pretty Boring ByBit Review

The Bulls are back (a bit) and the ref-shillers are heating up their game. ByBit, Deribit, BitMAX reviews everywhere you look. Everyone shills a ref-link here a real “review” there. But damn! Did you ever look at the UX of BitMAX? Do you think this is a website that could be ever successful and does you really believe that it outranked each and every other exchange with that insane volume numbers? OK. I admit, I did not do my research here, this is just a baseless rant. I visited the site, it put me instantly off and I went away. Similar thing with ByBit and all the other shrooms which are popping out of every cowpat. I get hammered with ByBit affiliate links on Twitter, on Telegram, needless to say, they are emailing us often to promote them (because they follow us on Instagram, and love our content there – thing is only we aren’t there). OK, here is the boring ByBit review like on any other crypto site so we can finally put a lid on it. In a nutshell: A few differences, but basically BitMEX with a Binance theme.

In 2018 the Security Exchange commission blocked several Bitcoin Exchange Traded Funds (ETFs) citing that the risk to investors would be potentially too high. While the SEC did not entirely dismiss the idea of Bitcoin ETFs in the future they argued the market was yet to mature enough for ETFs. After the stalling of Bitcoin ETFs albeit momentary, cryptocurrency derivatives are increasingly coming to the fore. One of the companies that are strongly involved in this evolution is BitMEX and therefore other derivatives exchange pop out everywhere trying to copy their successful model. In this article, we conduct an in-depth review of the features and workings of the ByBit derivatives exchange as an example for all the other ones flodding to the market recently.

What is ByBit?

ByBit is a worldwide platform that allows retail traders, professionals, investment institutions and enthusiast to participate in cryptocurrencies derivatives trading. The platforms aim at combining the best of traditional assets and digital assets to create a safe, reliable, fair and user-centric exchange for crypto-derivatives. The exchange largely focuses on trading the pairs of BTC/USD and ETH/USD. The platform is one of the most robust networks with an impressive rate of 100,000 transactions per second.

Claim: Handles a massive amount of transaction per second. BitMEX Comparison: This would basically mean no Overload issues like on Mex, which would be neat of course. Reality: I doubt ByBit really expecierenced the traffic and server load BitMEX did. So this has yet to be proven.

ByBit is registered as a cryptocurrency exchange in the British Virgin Islands and its headquarters are based in Singapore. The founding and management teams are comprised of financial executives and blockchain investors.

Claim: The project also boasts of highly competent professionals who are in charge of research and development within the company. BitMEX Comparison: Hey, we have Arthur here. Frankly, I prefer to have money on a BVI based exchange, than on the Seychelles. Reality: The company registration is OK. The team can be checked on LinkedIn. However, this information has to be verified.

In her bid to standardize financial regulations in the crypto-space, ByBit is driven by three major core values of promoting: transparency, innovation, and user support. So far, the innovation point is not yet clearly visible to me, but let’s check for the features.

The Features of ByBit

Perpetual contracts.

Perpetual contracts are financial derivatives that are designed to be a compromise between spot contracts and future contracts. On one hand, spot contracts require immediate settlement, while on the other hand, future contracts are settled on a specific date in the future, like for example TRX or CARDANO on BitMEX. Perpetual contracts adopted by ByBit, therefore provide a simple and efficient trading option for traders to hold positions for as long as they desire. This results in more opportunities for financial gain. However, just as known, funding rates apply.

BitMEX Comparison: ByBit covers only Bitcoin and Ethereum perpetuals and no further altcoin futures like BitMEX. Funding rates apply on perpetual contracts like on ByBit.

Dual-price mechanism.

The crypto-space has been constantly facing accusations of price manipulations, where exchanges have often resulted in intentionally deflating or inflating prices for malicious gains. To counter this, ByBit uses the dual-price mechanism to protect investors from manipulation and uses mark prace AND last traded price. For instance, if the price of ETH plummets from $180 to $40 as a result of attempted manipulation, the Mark Price will remain at $180, effectively protecting the traders from liquidation since the mark price is the sole trigger for liquidation.

Claim: Basically, this would mean you get less wicked out. Reality: Could not find any user feedback until now. To be observed.

Mark to Market.

On ByBit a contracts prices are usually tethered to the last traded price using a mechanism called funding. Funding is exchanged between long and short positions every 8 hours, thus making the last traded price marked to market every 8 hours. 

BitMEX Comparison: Exactly the same.

Leveraged Trading.

ByBit offers up to 100 times leverage on perpetual contracts, this is way above the 3-5x and 5-20x leverage offered on spot trading and future trading respectively. Traders are also able to adjust the leverage and margin of an open position, hence increasing flexibility. However, while leveraged trading can lead to massive returns it can also lead to equally massive losses. ByBit offers 100x Leverage on both perpetual contracts.

BitMEX comparison: OMG! A Difference: On ByBit you can use 100x Leverage on ETH (BitMEX has a maximum on 50x for ETH))

Comprehensive contract loss mechanism.

With comprehensive contract loss, ByBit is able to determine who bears what cost when positions cannot be liquidated at bankruptcy. Unlike socialized loss systems where all profitable traders share the loss, ByBit uses the deleveraging system. Users are ranked according to profit ratio and effective leverage and the more profitable and higher leveraged traders(risky traders) are de-leveraged first.

BitMEX comparison: Mirror, Mirror on the wall. We have a twin here.

ByBit Fees, Deposit and Withdrawal

Every trade on ByBit has two main parties a marker who places the order and the take who takes the markers order. Takers are charged 0.075% on each order, makers on the other end receive 0.025% on each trade. However, in comparison with BitMEX which also offers derivative trading one can argue that the fees are fair since the fees are identical.

BitMEX Fee Structure

When withdrawing BTC from the ByBit trading platform, you will have to pay 0.0005 BTC. This is 40% lower than the global industry average BTC withdrawal fee (0.0008 BTC) and thus also a very competitive withdrawal fee.

ByBit does not accept fiat deposits and hence first-time cryptocurrencies holders ought to first buy either BITCOIN or Ethereum from entry-level exchanges like Coinbase.

BitMEX Comparsion: Innovation! You can deposit/withdraw in ETH. At least something new!

How to register on ByBit.

If you are not bored to death by now by the copycats of ByBit, or you finally found a use case for your ETH, you might consider registering. ByBit is also very easy to satisfy when it comes to customer data – there is almost none needed. You can register either using your email or phone number. Your phone or email will then be verified via either a text, call, or email and you are now ready to set up. Upon filling all the required fields you are now free to begin trading.

It is important to note that ByBit does not accept traders from the US. This is largely a result of stringent regulatory requirements by the SEC. The SEC imposes strict obligations on any companies that wish to accept funds from US-investors. 

BitMEX Comparison: Same same, no different.

Order Types & Trading

ByBit – BitMEX with a Binance Theme

If you ever wished for BitMEX with a Binance theme, ByBit is your way to go! Very funny mashup, that might confuse you in the first place, when you are used to using both of the other exchanges on a regular base. ByBit offers the usual three order types that traders can choose according to their trading needs. Like on the most exchanges you can choose from limit order, market order, and conditional orders. The friendly interface allows users to adjust leverage, commission price, and a number of contracts. Orders can also be executed until close, immediately canceled or canceled completely. The platform also allows users to take profits or stops loss at certain positions of the trade.

Interesting spots: Truly interesting are two things here, which sets ByBit apart from BitMEX. On one hand, you have a currency dropdown in the upper right area, which lets you choose between BTC and ETH for your trade. The second and even more interesting difference is the conditional order. On BitMEX you have these kinds of orders only for stops. If you’d place the same orders without the conditional order engine on BitMEX they would execute against the market order book, on ByBit they become active once certain price conditions are met.

EXAMPLE: Let’s say ETH is at 155 USD and you want to place a short once support at 142 is broken. You cannot place a short order on BitMEX while we are above 142 for 142 and below. On ByBit you can say if the conditional price of 142 is reached, place a limit or market order at 143 short. Finally something new.

Yet another boring Conclusion

Overall, ByBit seems like a really reliable and robust platform for conducting derivatives exchanges. The platform not only has unique features that are not available with many exchanges but also has a vibrant and committed community behind it. As the need for cryptocurrency derivatives continue to rise the popularity of the exchange is also going to increase.

This is the conclusion your average blog would write to lure you into doing the clicky-clicky thing with their affiliate link. The real conclusion is: It is basically the very same offering as BitMEX in a Binance dress. Are there really less “wick-quidations“? It will show if you use it for a while. Is the exchange liquid enough to make trading possible? It seems like, yeah. Do we really need an option to go 100x into ETH? At least the deposit and trading in ETH is something new. But the real deal with ByBit are the conditional orders – that’s a great feature for sure, and we would love to see it on other exchanges as well.