#it shouldn’t even be extra it should have been taught

[imtryingbuck]

Two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n L/n becomes Queen of Astoria not that she wanted to. Prince James of Winterfeld meets her and falls in love.

Word count: 1,893

Warnings: angst. fluff. mentions of being barren. mentions of hunting.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

Sitting in the chair that her father had been sitting in only two months prior with a crown sitting upon her head that she was surprised her neck had not yet broke with the weight of the thing, she tried not to wince at the pinching of the corset.

She had been crowned as the rightful heir to the throne and was now Queen. The whole hall erupted into cheers and chants, “Long live the Queen” and “The warrior Queen” hit her ears as she sat with her back straight. The knights all bent their knee to her - Carlson in front of them all, smiling up at her as he pledged his allegiance to her. She saw the scowl coming from Sir Jon as he nursed his ale, she smiled at him just to piss him off a little extra.

The celebration was loud with music and chatter from those in the hall, the smell in the air was intoxicating with food and ale - a lot of that was going to the floor as the guests danced. Everyone including her mother, sisters and Carlson were laughing and dancing, celebrating their new Queen. 

But Y/n, she just couldn’t find it in herself to join in the festivities she just wanted to be left alone or preferably in the woods training with Carlson and some of the other men, or better yet she wished that she was far away from the kingdom as she could possibly get. Looking around slowly making sure no eyes were on her as they were to busy dancing and having conversations amongst themselves, she stood and walked out of the side door. She found herself out in the private courtyard that only her family were allowed to be in, she took the crown off releasing a content and relieved sigh. The cold air soothed the ache of her chest as she looked up to the darkened sky smiling as the stars twinkled.

“Should have known you were going to try and run away. Ah, see you do not startle easily anymore.”

“I could smell you before I heard your boring voice.” She replied still staring up at the stars. “And do you see me running? The answer is no.”

“Listen here, you should have respect for your elders-“ he barked as he moved closer to her.

“I am not the same thirteen year old who was terrified of you, matter of fact I am more scared of a butterfly than I am of you.”

“You should not even be queen!”

Turning to face the man she had known all her life, the man who taught her how to play chess, the same man who would sneak some extra cake slices onto her plate when her parents weren’t watching. “Why shouldn’t I? I am the first born, my father never had a son, so why should I not be queen?”

“You are rotten. You are a barren bitch, what use are you if you cannot have an heir? You are best to work in the whore house-“

“Along with your mistress? I would rather not hear how dull you are at sex, thank you.”

“Y-you have no idea what you are talking about!”

“No? Red head, big tits, pretty face? A stark contrast from your wife, I must say.”

“Rotten you are-“

“So you have already said.”

“Barren bitch whose only deeming qualities lay on the battle field.”

“Again, you already called me that and also a battle field you have not seen in so many years, too busy hiding behind my father. And may I remind you of who you are talking to? I am the Queen, do not like that fact? Go and jump off the cliff, I will be sure to keep your wife and mistress safe and looked after.”

“You-you- wh-“

“You are embarrassing yourself now. You keep forgetting your station and I will end up removing more than your tongue. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes… my Queen.”

“Very good. Run along and leave me in peace.”

“What happened to you? The little girl I knew was nice, sweet and had a heart of gold. Where did that little girl go?” Jon asked her with his hand on the door knob.

“She died the moment you dragged her off that boat. Goodnight Jon.”

Hearing the door slam close she gulped a large breath of air, trying her hardest to keep her heart rate down. She wasn’t scared of him but she did know how dangerous he could be, she had seen it with her own two eyes. When Y/n was younger she use to sit upon a tree stump with her knees pulled up to her chest and watched in fascination as Jon trained the other warriors, she watched in awe of how fast he was though he had years added on to those he was training. And although Jon was friendly and sweet to her she had seen him do things that gave her nightmares or would be afraid to go near him for a few days after. The Jon that stood in front of her just then, calling her those names, wasn’t the same man she had grown up with.

She didn’t know why he was so against something that she didn’t even ask for, he should have taken it out on her father and not her.

“Jon said I could find you here, old man is too busy drowning his sorrows in the corner- hey what is wrong?”

“Nothing. Go back and enjoy your night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You are freezing, come back inside Y/n/n.”

“Would you marry Anna?” She asked changing the subject.

“No. She’s a pretty girl but I do not view her in that way, why?”

“What about my other sisters?”

“No Y/n, what is going on?”

“If you married my sister I could abdicate from the throne and hand it over to you two, and then the kingdom would have a King and a Queen that would have heirs and I could leave and I-I could be happy, I could be free.”

Carlson stood there frozen listening to his friends words, he had half a mind to go back into the hall and attack Jon knowing for sure that he had said something to her for her to be thinking of such things. “You will find a husband of your choosing, hopefully it would be a marriage of love and have your own child-“

“I cannot have them and you know that.”

“You do not know that though. Your father told you that when you was a child Y/n, he was wrong about many of things - he is wrong about this too.”

“I will find a suitable prince for one of the girls-“

“Y/n-“

“I do not want this life Carlson, I never have. And I am not ashamed to admit that I am scared.”

Wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into him, he whispered. “I know. I know you do not want this but I believe in you, I know you will be the best Queen anyone will ever know. I am sorry but this is your life, and please know I will be right by your side every step of the way. I will not allow you to fail or to fall, this I swear to you.”

For the first time since she was sixteen years of age when she was made to take part of the annual hunt and forced by her father to take the life of an innocent deer, she cried. Gripping tightly of Carlson’s shirt she let everything go, the loss of her life, the loss of her fathers life, her stepmother life ending so soon, the unfairness of the life she had to live when she did not want it. She cried and cried until there was nothing left for her to give.

“Queen Y/n.” Her personal servant bowed as the young girl entered her chambers.

“Larissa, how are you?”

“I-I am very well my queen, how are you?”

“Good, have you eaten today?”

“I have not but-“

“Come sit with me, and enjoy some food. I fear the cooks have given me more than enough.” She sees the hesitation in the young girl’s movements, Y/n pushes a chair out and pats on the seat giving her an encouraging smile.

“Th-thank you my Grace.”

“Do not need to thank me, eat as much as you can”

Larissa was not use to this. She thought at first that she was to be the tester to make sure no one had tried to poison the queen, finding herself frowning when Y/n digs into the food before she does. Larissa had always admired Y/n growing up, always finding herself smiling then she would hear the Princess laughing, when she would have the duty to collect herbs from the woods she would see Y/n fighting against men who were bigger in height and weight to her and would always silently cheer on the Princess and finding herself chuckling to herself when she would win against her opponents. Never in her life did she think she would be handpicked to serve her queen directly, and now here she was eating a breakfast fit for royalty, answering questions that Y/n asked, mind and heart racing as her queen actually paid attention to her words.

The bubble burst for the two of them when a knock came from the door, Larissa goes to stand up but Y/n’s hand came into contact with her arm, “it’s okay. Come in.”

“My Queen.”

“Mother, how are you? Would you like to join me and Larissa to eat? There’s plenty to go around.”

“I have already eaten, but thank you.”

“Your loss. What is it?”

“I need to speak to you, privately, please.” Larissa nods and stands, bowing to the two women she leaves quickly.

“What is wrong?”

Y/n watched as her mother take the seat that Larissa had been occupying, her fingers tugging at the flow of her dress - something she tended to do when she was nervous. A habit she herself had taken up. “Please, please do not be mad.”

“What has happened?”

“Y/n, you need a husband and you know it. You need an heir and that is just how it is, you need to marry in order to have them.”

“Mother, you know-“

“Your father was being a foolish angry man, he did not mean it.”

“But what is he was? What if I am barren and I cannot give my husband what is required of me? I do not, no, I know I cannot go through what you went through. I will not do it, it is not fair on me, the man or the other woman. Please mother, please just drop this. I will figure something out.”

There was a deafening silence that followed her words, mother and daughter just staring at each other waiting for someone to speak. Y/n truly wished she had just bid farewell and left her own chambers to go and train with Carlson even though she knew she had other obligations to attend.

Her mother smiled sadly at her and whispered the words that Y/n had been dreading to hear ever since she was a child.

“I have found you a husband.”

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Tags: @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love | @sidraaaaaaaaa | @mrsnikstan | @barnesxstan | @hi172826 | @alexdarkacademia | @supraveng

[mychoombatheroomba]

Proper Introductions

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 2

You're feeling a lot of regret for your performance in the training yard yesterday. For lots of reasons.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

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Chapter Index

You had almost forgotten what it was to be a fuckup. You had never been a perfect soldier, by any means, but lately you had been feeling like a competent one again. STRATCOM was kicking the living shit out of you, but you had felt like you were finally cresting the mountain, getting it to a manageable level of daily pain. 

Should have known better than to let yourself get too comfortable. Krauser always noticed when any of you got comfortable.

Your shame and the memory of steel against your side weighed on you the rest of the day, through the training and meals and even into your hour of personal time. An hour that you dedicated to running the drills that Krauser had taught you, trying to clear your head before lights out. 

It only partially worked, and the night was too long and too short all at the same time. When you finally got to sleep, you dreamed of snow and blood, and when you woke the next morning, you felt brittle. Breakable. The dog tags around your neck felt heavy, and you fought the urge to take them off. 

It pissed you off something fierce, so as the day’s training began, you pushed yourself hard, turning that shame into gasoline, letting it burn in your chest. Every shot you fired at the range, every extra millisecond it took to disassemble your weapon was another spark to the blaze. It burned and burned, until lunch time came, and you glimpsed another reason to regret your performance yesterday. 

“Looks like Krauser kicked the shit out of Pretty Boy.” One of your fellows, Valeria, snickered. Her eyes were fixed across the tables, her voice loud enough to carry just as far. Those who cared for gossip looked at who she spoke of, and with the heaviness in your gut, you couldn’t help but join them. 

He’d bruised. That ridiculous haircut of his fell on the wrong side of his face to hide the shiner that was forming across the rookie’s cheek, creeping up to just beneath his eye. Right where your fist had connected the day before. Seeing it made you feel, quite simply, like a piece of shit. It wasn’t the first time you’d given someone a mark in training. Wouldn’t be the last. Still, when he felt all those eyes on him and looked up, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d kicked a puppy. He couldn’t have been that much younger than you, but there was just something about those ocean eyes that deepened the pit of regret in your stomach. That only got worse when your own eyes met his. You thought he’d look away quickly. 

Instead, you found yourself surprised as the bruised cadet held your gaze, just the way he had when his guard had been up yesterday, before you’d knocked him to the ground.

“Wasn’t the Major,” Alejandro, another of your peers, corrected Valeria. Then, you felt the energy around the tables shift and you took your eyes off the kid you’d injured and looked instead at the man speaking. “Way I heard it,” he gave you a wolf grin, lifting a cup of water towards you in a toast, “it was our Sergeant, over here.” 

Murmurs swept around you, and you did your best to hide your grimace.

“Beating up babies now, huh?” Someone jabbed. You almost struck back. He put up more of a fight than you ever have was right at the tip of your tongue. A few years ago, you would have hurled the insult with abandon. Pull the pin and toss. Now . . . well, with the shit sleep you had and the general less-than-ideal way you felt, you just went back to eating your meal. If the scop they served could be called that. 

The rest of the recruits had their fun - as much of it as could be had before they realized you weren’t giving them anything to work with. You, in the meantime, just sank back into your own spiral of thoughts. 

You shouldn’t have hit him like that. Krauser was right, you shouldn’t have been tagged in the first place, but you didn’t make things better for yourself with a cheap shot. 

You’d just felt that knife against you and . . . and then you’d fucked up. You’d brought your own shit into the fight, made it someone else’s problem. Let yourself get scared by a fucking practice knife. It was stupid. 

It was stupid, and you wanted to put it behind you.

You finished your food quickly. Wasn’t anything to savor, anyway. Then, you stood, bringing your empty tray with you as you marched towards him. He was sitting by himself, and you were grateful that no one would be directly privy to this conversation. He had stopped looking at you, but your movement drew some quick glances from him. Even in those glimpses, he met you with a sharpness. That only grew as you approached, and more of his attention turned to you. Inquisitorial came to mind, one of those damn SAT words that you remembered, god knows why. He looked like he was trying to figure you out. 

He had grit, you had to give him that. 

Made you wonder what his life was like before this. Made you wonder about a lot of things. Mostly, though, you wondered-

“What’s your name?”

He looked surprised that you were asking. His expression said 'What the hell are you doing?'

You wanted to ask yourself the same thing. 

Instead, you waited that second or two before he answered. 

“Uh, Kennedy.” 

“I know. Krauser said that yesterday. I meant your first name.” 

Another pause, and you saw the gears turning in his head. “. . . Leon.” 

You nodded. Pointed to his cheek. “Sorry about that, Leon. You got me. Shouldn’t have been such a dick about it.” 

The recruit - Leon - blinked. His blue eyes moved away from you for a moment. Considering what to say. Then, he shook his head. “No, it’s . . .” if he said fine, you already knew that it would be a lie. He’d been pissed yesterday when you did it, and you couldn’t blame him. “It’s fine.” 

There it was. Liar. A polite liar. 

“No, it’s not. I was an asshole. Shouldn’t have happened.” 

He looked at you, confused, and you understood it well enough. Then, that sharpness about him turned to something a little brighter. Cautiously optimistic. “You said it, not me.” 

“I did.” Again, you nodded. There. Apology delivered, time for you to move on. 

You made it a step before Leon spoke again. “Thank you. For the apology.” 

Oh, he was not the sort of person you would expect to be here. 

Everyone you had trained with so far had been hardened bastards, most of them old and grizzled vets or arrogant hotshots. They needed the best. People who were going to get the job done. They were here to do a job, same as you. You’d come to expect no great affection. 

Even so, looking back at Leon, you found someone who looked genuinely, truly grateful. It took no special insight to imagine why. The training for the US Strategic Command was not and never would be the hardest thing you’d done in life, but it ground you down. It was a pressure cooker, and everyone felt it every second of every day. Krauser was a good teacher, but he was the sort who would push you to your breaking point. Beat you down so you never forgot when and how you showed a weakness. He had long warned that there would be no mercy in the real world, so he trained you without it. So, you knew that when Leon looked at you like that, it was because any kindness shown here was a rarity.

“Don’t mention it,” you said back. Here, in the midst of training for the worst of scenarios, on this most shitty of days, it felt nice to be not only forgiven, but maybe even appreciated. That little feeling stopped you from leaving so quickly, and you stepped towards the recruit once more. “And also: smaller arm movements.”

“What?”

“In our fight,” you clarified, “that’s how I could tell where you were going to go. You were telegraphing everything.” 

Leon almost smiled. It looked good on him. “Krauser told me the same thing yesterday. After.” 

“Well, he’s right.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind.” 

“Good.” 

The interaction was awkward, and you, for one, never wanted to do it again. Still, that was a better feeling to focus on than the crushing guilt you’d been stuck under all morning. You readily embraced it as you went into afternoon drills, glad you could at least make good on one of your mistakes. 

As for the others . . . well, those were the ones you clung to as you and Valeria circled each other later, knives flashing in the midday sun.

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Chapter Index

[wickedsrest-rp]

Eden Lu He / him

"Did you know blood doesn't come out of vintage Valentino? Figures."

SPECIES: Siren OCCUPATION: Librarian AGE: 30 Years Old PLAYED BY: Sev FC: Xiao Zhan

BIOGRAPHY:

TW: Suicide (by enthrallment)

Saying that someone is destined for fame from the moment they’re born sounds like an exaggeration, but for the son of two of China’s most high-profile public figures, it was an unfortunate reality. His mother – a beloved actress – booked him his first commercial when he was three, his first gig on a film at five, and his first solo project at nine. His father – a successful hotel tycoon – taught him the art of talking to the press. The only life that Eden knew how to live was one in the spotlight, and it happened to be one of the worst possible places for a growing siren to try and hone their voice.

Just like every other child siren, young Eden’s powers were unpredictable, and his fear of slipping up on stage or on set only grew. How could he live with himself if his voice was the reason someone got hurt? His mother disagreed with this sentiment. His mother – a powerful siren herself and the leader of their traditionalist colony – built her career off of her voice. Whether she needed to charm her fans into loving her or change the mind of an executive, she believed that the universe made her a siren for a reason. If humans were weak enough to be controlled, why shouldn’t she use it to her advantage? 

But to Eden, it was bad enough that he achieved his fame by simply being born to his parents. He wasn’t going to go around manipulating innocent people for a few extra minutes in the spotlight. It was a stance that his mother didn’t understand, and it had been a topic of argument on several occasions. It wasn’t that he hated being a siren, but he hated how his mother equated it to power. Every individual enthralled, every heart eaten, every body slain — it was all for the sake of power, and Eden thought that obsession was a sad way to live life. 

The older he got, the faster his relationship with his mother deteriorated. If they weren’t arguing over colony affairs then it was morals. Disagreements over the direction his career should take and the methods in which he should go about achieving such success. The pressures that came naturally with the entertainment industry while also trying to hide a part of himself. It all became too much for Eden, and it only took one more moment to break him.

There shouldn’t have been anyone else on set the night his mother insisted they stay late and run his lines. One minute he was flipping the page of his script, the next a masked individual was standing at the door. A stalker, a crazed fan, a hater — he had no clue who they were except for the fact that they were lunging towards him with a knife. But before he could even react, his mother’s voice was ringing through the trailer. The individual stopped in their tracks, and Eden could’ve sworn they looked him right in the eye as they turned the knife on themself.

He could only stand in horror as his mother stood over the intruder and lamented how delicious the fresh heart would be. Of course, her satisfaction only lasted for a moment before she turned to chastise him. You would be dead if it weren’t for me. There’s no place in the world for the weak. We were born with a gift, so use it. Perhaps the hardest part for him was the fact that he knew that his mother’s words held some truth, but he also knew that there were a thousand other ways this night could’ve played out which didn’t end in a gruesome death.

Eden never believed he was morally better than anyone — in fact, he didn’t even think he was a particularly good person. But he knew that the feeling he had for his mother that night was one that toed the line between disgust and fear, and that was not the life he wanted to live anymore. Thankfully, his growing disdain for the celebrity life just made his decision to leave home easier. He didn’t care if he lost all his fame and fortune, and he sure as hell didn’t care that his mother found him an embarrassment to their family legacy. For someone who had their every move dictated for them since they were a child, it was time for Eden to take his life in his own hands. He had the courtesy of giving his parents an explanation before he left, but words were exchanged that could never be taken back, and Eden was gone for good. He has no clue how his family or the press handled the disappearance of the Lu Family’s Golden Child, nor does he care. It was time for him to live a private life, jumping from town to town in places where he could be a nobody. It was a simple human life, but it was the most free that he’d ever felt — and maybe a little too good to be true. He brushed the first email off as a mistake, perhaps a prank that someone sent to the wrong person. But the second addressed him by name, and the third outlined his history in detail that even his Wikipedia page couldn’t capture. The fourth made it clear — whoever this individual was, they wanted to take back the heart of a siren.

Eden was on his own with no colony to protect him, but he had to live with his choices. At least he remembered reading about the town of Wicked’s Rest — a supernatural hub where it’d be safest for him to hide amongst the chaos of the unknown. He’s slowly forming a plan so that he’ll be ready when the individual strikes again, but it’ll involve some preparation, some hearts, and…no, Eden was nothing like his mother. She craved power for her own selfish gain, and he needed power to protect himself. He’ll never become anything like her…right?

PERSONALITY:

Charming · Honest · Perceptive · Witty · Impatient · Distrusting · Paranoid · Stubborn

OTHER INFO:

He loves his blue Vespa because it was a silly little impulse purchase and the feeling of wind on his face reminds him of flying. However, after a few resilient months of the Vespa being his only mode of transportation in town, Eden finally caved and bought a proper car. He decided he needs somewhat of a barrier between him and whatever threat of the day lurks in the shadows.

Eden lives with his squonk, Moo Deng, who mysteriously appeared on his steps one day. He will wrinkle his nose at the goo it leaves but deep down he would die for the slippery grey squonk. He tells the neighbourhood birds to drop pine cones off in his backyard for Moo Deng to snack on when he doesn’t have the time or energy to go collect them himself.

He’s still not used to the non-celebrity life and that’s caused him to try and pick up very random hobbies to fill his time. He’s somehow found himself on the Wicked’s Rest amateur polo team because of this. Though he initially only tried it out because he liked the outfits, he’s starting to grow fond of the sport and the horses.

Being the pampered nepo baby that he was growing up, he’s never had to get his hands dirty when it comes to hearts and he’d like to keep it that way. He either outsources for them or takes them from bodies that are already dead. Of course, there’s no telling if he’ll stick to his morals if it means ensuring his survival.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Violent Yellow

Summary: Deciding that the creatures that they summon get defeated to easily, the Trix decide to call upon a few urban legends and demons from Earth. Only one of them answers their call but it doesn't take commands.

Notes: Winx/The Conjuring crossover. Is this very self-indlgent and catered to my interests specifically? Probably lol. Originally was going to be a one short for Febuwhump's demonic possession prompt. But this ended up being too long for a one shot and is something I can see turning into a two or three parter if I get the time.

The curtains are billowing and the moonlight streams though. There is an odor in the air like burning sulfur and suffering. It hangs so potently that she can taste it on her tongue. It tastes like success. Like power. 

And then it fades away. 

Fades like nothing had happened at all.

“Well that was lame.” Stormy grumbled.

Darcy sighs and blows each of their ritual candles out. “We’re really running out of ideas, huh?” 

Icy shrugs. “Running out of ideas? We’re just getting started. We’ve tried summoning creatures from Magix’s texts, but never ones from Earth. Think about it ladies; Red Fountain trains those silly boys and Alfea trains those silly faeries to fight creatures from the magical dimensions. But they haven’t been taught how to defeat things from Earth folklore. It’ll be easy pickings.” If they could actually successfully summon a heinous creature or entity from earth. 

If any of those creatures actually exist.

She is beginning to think that they don’t. 

“Well we’ve already tried Bloody Mary, the Midnight Man, Sadako Yamamura, and Bigfoot—thanks for that one, Stormy.” Darcy rolls her eyes. “So far nothing has come of any of it. It’s all just stories. Made up stuff.”

Maybe so. Maybe they are just wasting their time. But she had felt it, felt it…that surge of deep darkness that had ridden in on that sulfuric draft. And when she lays down to sleep the eyes appear in her dreams—violently yellow. 

It is on the very fringes of these dreams that Icy realizes that the three of them had forgotten to specify where the demon was supposed to manifest and who it was supposed to latch itself onto. Suddenly those vivid yellow eyes are a source of surmounting dread rather than a building feeling of victory. 

.oOo.

It appears only when she is alone. 

When she is the last person lingering in the hallway or the only person occupying a bathroom with a leaky faucet and graffiti heavy stalls. 

The squeal of the faucet as she gives the cold water knob a twist has always been teeth-grating. She has long since stopped using the right and left most faucets. But even the middle three have begun screeching upon being twisted. 

It is behind her. 

Its breaths warm her neck. 

Dead things shouldn’t breathe. 

She has gotten used to the feeling of it. 

It is a dull feeling in her head; a  headache without the ache. A tingle of anticipation that isn’t quite dread but very well should be. 

Icy doesn’t left her head, doesn’t gaze into the mirror. She knows that it wouldn’t be there even if she did. But she still keeps her eyes on the soap suds swirling around the drain just in case. She puts extra attention into scrubbing her hands but she knows that it knows that she has already acknowledged its presence and that is plenty enough.

She feels a tickle on the back of her neck as a few strands of her hair shift.

She holds her breath—the initial inhale brings a familiar and choking taste of sulfur. She swallows hard and scrubs more furiously, half expecting the water in the sink to run red with blood that she hasn’t yet shed. 

Instead, the fingers that lift locks of her hair take to twirling the strands. 

Icy turns off the faucet and dries her hands on her skirt. She sidesteps the entity and feels her hair fall out of its grasp and over her shoulder. She heaves the door to the bathroom ajar, hearing its creak echo. The hallway taht she steps out into has taken on its usual dim and dour ambiance. If she listens closely she can hear the beating heart of cloud tower. Normally she adores the dusty, cobweb heavy atmosphere, adores how the hallway seems to stretch endlessly, getting more an more distorted as she meanders onward. Normalcy is quickly fading. 

The hallway—the very same one that she has padded along daily for years–is becoming increasingly more unsetting. And she owes it to the expectation that she will see a pair of burning yellow eyes glowing at the end of it.

When she does muster up the nerve to look she sees only a black splotch of shadow.

Somehow that is worse. 

Dark summonings class is only just around the corner. But she dreads to see what might be waiting for her when she does round it. She knows for certain that there is a classroom full of students awaiting around that corner but it feels like it would take ages to reach them.

She tells herself that she is being ridiculous. 

That only works if she knows in her heart that she is. 

This time logic tells her that the goosebumps on her skin are right to be there.

She takes the rest of the hallway in long, hasty strides, wishing that she had just gone to class with Darcy and Stormy instead of fussing with her hair. The demon has just made a mess of it anyways. 

She takes a deep breath and peeks around the corner. She is met with only stale air and the kind of silence that makes a crypt seem lively. She slips into the classroom just before the professor comes to join them. She finds her usual spot between Darcy and Stormy. 

“What took you so long?” Darcy asks. 

“I couldn’t get my hair to do what I wanted it to do.” She lies, turning her attention to that which professor Zarathustra write a series of spells upon the blackboard. 

“Today we will be talking about one of my favorite creatures to draw out of the abyss; lesser demons.” She pauses. “I would like to caution all of you that demons are not to be trifled with, even the least of the less of them.” She clasps her hands behind her back. “And so I will remind you of the first rule of a summoning ritual; do not summon anything more powerful than yourself or something that you do not have the means to put back.”

Lucy’s hand shoots up. “How can we know the difference?” 

“Easy.” Icy mutters, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re a weak witch; you take one look at the ritual instructions and know right away that it’s beyond your skill level.” 

The class snickers. 

“Icy, since you are so sure of yourself, how about you come up here and demonstrate how to properly call upon a minor poltergeist.”

Icy rolls her eyes. “I thought that we were learning about demons.” Stupid. She is stupid. Moreso than Lucy. She should have kept her mouth shut. She could be learning about how to summon and expel a demon without having to ask, without having to out the mischief of she and her sisters. 

“Oh we will get back to that. But first you can draw me a summoning sigil.”

Icy approaches the blackboard and plucks a stick of chalk. As soon as she presses the stick to the board, it undulates ever so softly. She furrows her brows and grasps the chalk tighter between her fingers. 

“This class is only an hour long, Icy.” Zarathustra urges. 

Icy draws the first two strokes of the sigil only to have them swallowed up by the chalk board, she draws them again. And a third time. A fourth? Fifth? Sixthseventheightnithtenth…

It is maddening. As quickly as she swipes the chalk, the strokes fade into the blackboard that shifts and swirls. 

She turns to Zarathustra a demand to know what sort of joke this is rests on her tongue. It never makes it out because Zarathustra gazes upon her with searing yellow eyes. In place of that demand, a small sound escapes Icy’s lips. She almost drops the chalk. Instead she tenses up and presses it back to the blackboard. But there is no space left for her to scowl anything upon it. The blackboard has spit her strokes out. 

Upon its surface the demon shows its face.

Pale and chalky with convex nose and a mouth full of elongated teeth. Those yellow eyes are set so deeply into their sockets that she can’t see the whites at all. They’re probably are no whites. The chalk ripples and the blackboard seems to crinkle. Icy drops the chalk as a hand reaches out and clasps around her wrist. 

“No.” She murmurs. “No. Do something, Zarathustra. It’s after me. It…” 

It is pulling itself from the blackboard as a shoe peels itself out of tar. 

“It’s going to get me.” 

The face begins to bulge out of the blackboard and those long razor teeth begin to extend out of the malefic thing’s mouth. And Icy cries out, throwing a good blast of frosty wind at the horrid thing. It hardens into a wall of ice but the demon’s shadows burn through it. 

She stumbles back, tripping over her own feet. And the wicked thing descends upon her. 

She throws her head back and a scream tears from her throat. 

And then a hand reaches into her mouth and stifles the scream. Diminishing it into a few gurgling chokes. Tears leak down her cheeks as her lungs begin to burn.

And just as her vision begins to darken, the demon parts ways. She falls back onto the floor and stares up at the ceiling. Stares up and the black smoke and the face stirring within it. Stares until all that is left of the faces are two searing yellow irises.

.oOo.

She is the talk of the school and this time it isn’t a matter of admiration. They snicker at her. The bravest of them screech and fake a few spasms. 

It is apparently quite humorous to watch someone spasm upon the floor.

“It’s going to get you!” Ursula shouts as she passes. “It’s going to get you!” 

She might have spelled bitch into oblivion if it didn’t feel like such a fortelling. An omen rather than an offense. A truth rather than an insult. It is going to get her.

It has gotten her already. 

She can feel it at the back of her throat, thick and viscous. A substance that she can cough up. She could ram her fingers down her throat and expel everything but the thing that had invited itself inside of her. 

The thing that she herself had allowed in. 

After Ursula turns her back on them, Darcy squeezes her hand.

Darcy should let go if she knows what’s good for her. 

Should get Stormy and transfer to another dorm. 

One that isn’t afflicted with nightly disturbances; the slamming of doors, the pulling of draws, the levitating furniture…

Sometimes she wakes up standing over Stormy’s bed with her hands just shy of bringing the dagger down. Just shy of opening her sister’s throat right up. 

Her hands aren’t hers anymore; not all of the time. At night her hands belong to the demon. 

It was just a tale…

A horror story from Earth. 

It should have been just as untrue as Bloody Mary.

She stands before Griffin’s office. Zarathustra waits for her there. “You can see yourself to class, Darcy.” 

Darcy gives a meek nod and mouths wishes of luck. 

She is hardly beyond the doorframe when Griffin inquires, “what have you done?” The ‘this time’ is implied. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” She lies.

“Zarathustra gave this to me.” She slaps something onto her desk and slides it across as Icy approaches. “Do you know what this is?”

Icy stares at the photograph. It depicts a long string of symbols with a few interment words written in a long dead language. The handwriting is unmistakably hers. But she shakes her head anyways. Shakes it in earnest.

“Zarathustra said that you wrote this on the blackboard before having some sort of panic attack.”

“I don’t know what it is.”

“It is a series of summoning sigils.” Zarathustra says. “Do you remember writing it?”

Icy shakes her head. “That was what you called me up there to do.”

“This is no time for sarcasm!” Griffins hands slapping the desk causes Icy to jolt. “It’s a very serious matter and you’ve put yourself and, more concerningly, this whole school in danger!” 

Icy cringes. “Everything I wrote…sunk into the blackboard and then…” She shudders. 

“Not a single stroke sunk into the blackboard.” Zarathustra assures her. “Had I not stopped you, you could have opened a gate. One that wouldn’t have been so easily closed.” 

“So what then? What are you going to do to me?”

“We’re going to ask you a few very simple questions and you are going to answer them honestly.” She pauses and lets the unspoken threat sink in. “What is the name of the demon that the three of you summoned, exactly when—date and time—did you summon it, and through which means was it summoned?”

“Its name is Valak. It is from a story…a movie that they show on Earth. It wasn’t…after the first few flops we figured that this one was made up too.”

Griffin pinches the bridge of her nose. 

“Midnight, a few weeks ago.” She can’t remember the date. She hadn’t thought that it would be important. 

“Well then you haven’t much time.” Zarathustra mentions grimly, casting a stare at the headmistress. “What are we going to do with her until the exorcist can get here?” 

“Take her to Red Fountain where we hold the rest of the beasts for safe keeping.”

Icy’s heart plummets. “What about Darcy and Stormy?”

“They will attend class as they do every other day.” Griffin replies. “They won’t have to worry about a thing unless the demon grows tired of or kills you.” 

“It won’t kill you.” Zarathustra notes. “You’re its host and as long as it has you, it will keep away from the other two.”

Her heart flutters again.

It absolutely races when Saladin’s men come to shackle her like an animal in chains that burn her wrists and ankles. Holy chains with potent runes. 

Runes that will surely leave ugly raised scars upon her skin if there anything left of her by the time the exorcist is through with her. 

They close the door to her cell and leave her alone with the darkness that she used to find comforting. 

The only light she sees is the soft glow of two yellow eyes.

[somethin-nice-abt-everymon]

Now for the champion of the kanto Johto area or Lance

For this one given it’s the last of Kanto I’m going to go extra :3

I like his gen 4 design the most tbh tbh

Dad figure 2 (you’ll see dad figure 1 later)

I find Lance really silly

And he’s adopted Silver in my mind bc the kid deserves better

Tbh he’s a comfort character for me given I relate to Silver

I love including him in aus tbh tbh!

Ok now how he interacts with the other elite four members

Starting with Lorelei who he got Dragonite plushes from and he keeps those plushies on a shelf in his living room (they have gotten scratched up with time but he’s can sew so fixes them but one has a star patterned orange patch given Silver’s Sneasel scratched at it so it needed major repairs and was missing a decent spot on its back) (Lance actually taught Silver how to sew while fixing it up)

Next is Will who Lance usually let’s complain about the stolen lunches issue but in all honesty he’s not getting too involved because this more seems like a Will and Karen being friends issue not a workplace issue but he’s told Karen off at least once or twice

Karen is next and she’s usually nice to Lance but they are kind of just coworkers

Bruno is nice but coworkers

Agatha is also nice and Lance really respects her in all honesty

Koga is also nice and him and Lance talk about their kids together happily often

Now MCs

He interacts with Red for around 2 hours of time that they’ve fully been interacting (battling, Red giving champion to him after a few months bc the work of being a champion was a lot) but Lance feels the kid has potential to be the strongest trainer ever possibly

Blue was a simple Blue win but Lance has respect for the kid and Agatha seemed to have a bigger reaction then him to Blue

He’s not met Green

I haven’t read kanto pokespe so I don’t know abt Yellow

Gold also had potential but also handed Lance the role of champion back after less then a week

Silver is Lance’s kiddo and Lance is trying to help Silver through his trauma and be a good dad figure for the kid (I’ll probably talk abt this more when I get to Silver :3)

Now how about other champions?

Starting with Steven who Lance usually lowers his voice around given he understands Steven is autistic and Lance doesn’t want any chance of overwhelming him

Lance has interacted with Wallace a few times but not enough to exactly be friends but Wallace did ask him “Shouldn’t Dratini be a water type it lives in water after all?” and Lance has thought about that ever since

Lance doesn’t talk to Cynthia much

Lance and Alder are buds 100% especially when Alder thinks about adopting N and Lance is just like “Of course you should! Kids of evil team leaders need guidance the most” and now they talk about it together

He doesn’t interact with Diantha much

He’s battled Leon a couple times but they aren’t really friends exactly?

He’s probably no longer champion once Geeta is champion of Paldea logically but they’d get along tbh

Now for a surprise all of his gym leaders and how he interacts with them!

Brock is first and Brock hasn’t interacted with Lance much but Lance has pet Brock’s onix

Lance also hasn’t talked to Misty much but he did ruffle her hair once (Misty stared at him afterwards)

Surge and Lance have interacted a couple times and they vibe

Lance actually always asks Erika how Celadon is doing and sometimes stares at her disappointed when she’s gossiping (Erika usually stops gossiping till he leaves then the drama is back on!)

I’m putting Janine here and Lance always tells her she did a great job when she brings snacks to the league building

Sabrina and Lance are coworkers and don’t interact much

Blaine has given Lance a few quizzes and Lance went along with them

Lance hates Giovanni with every bone in his body

Falkner is chill but they don’t interact much

Buggy has had the hair ruffleddddd (Bugsy actually giggled especially because at least one twig fell out of his hair)

Whitney scares even Lance slightly given if fairy types existed in gen 2 she’d be a fairy type trainer but Lance also checks in with her bc she’s like 16 and the rest of her family moved to Hoenn

Morty and Lance have talked a few times but not too often

Lance once had to referee Chuck and Bruno having a actual fight and Lance just sighed

Jasmine is really chill but they don’t talk much especially because something feels weird about Jasmine and non human but Lance can’t put his finger on it……something feels out of place with her (she’s a alien in my mind btw or a Owlrian in particular)

Pryce and Lance chill but Lance tries to not disturb him too much

Lance and Claire are siblings and no one can change my mind tbh tbh

Now just others of the same type specialty of dragon

Drake and Lance get along quite well but just don’t talk much weirdly?

Drayden is a another case of getting along but not talking much

He’s not interacted with Iris before

If he could pick one dragon trainer to talk to and only them it would be Drasna given if you aren’t going to battle her she is so nice!

Zinnia has actually met Lance and bit him before scurrying off and he was so confused

Ryuki has not met him

Raihan is too much of a fan to approach

Lance really enjoys any time him and Hassel interact tbh given Hassel is really nice

That’s all I hope y’all enjoyed Kanto given Johto is up :3

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Wednesday Game

Tagged by @wannab-urs @frenchiereading @megamindsecretlair @pedroshotwifey

Thank you all tagging me 🥰 You all know I always have ideas, the problem is usually follow through. 😂 and completion.

Step one: Post snippets of the fics you're working on (can be a summary if there's no snippet)

Step two: put them in a poll and let people vote on which one you should work on, then prioritize the one with the most votes.

Step three: Ask me about my WIPs! I've got lots of lore to share + more snippets, etc.

My March Spring Prompts! I’m really enjoying doing them this month. I’ve been trying to include as many different Pedro and Oscar characters as possible with some connecting drabbles. 🥰

A sample of part two of "The Lake between Us" (Thank you all for enjoying part one, I didn't quite expect such a response for it. Should I make a tag list for it? 🤔) Ezra AU x plus size OFC - name in future parts:

Things were tenuous at first but they worked out she’s to call him ‘Uncle’ or Mr. Ezra. It worked better in social situations and she became his little ‘Birdie.’ Scaling down the jobs he took on to mitigate risk was a challenge and were worth less but he had to live not only for himself now. The pair moved around some before he enrolled her in school in Louisiana but ensured that he taught her when she came home in the evenings and on the weekends. The child hated the extra lesions, but it enabled her to be leagues ahead of her peers as far as studies went. Ezra was determined not to suffer another fool and would do what he could so that Cee wouldn’t follow in her father’s steps of idiocy. The results of his care, diligence and support was realized at both her high school graduation which he had never imagined attending anyone’s graduation except his own and to travel with his charge to see the college she’d chosen.

Nuestras canciones (Our Songs) Santiago Garcia x Amalia (plus size OFC) @reallyrallyauthor liked my Santiago spring prompt for today so I felt motivated to finally write another part to this mini-series:

Santiago saw a woman by herself lost in the music, the glow from her skin from perspiration. He didn’t see a reason why he shouldn’t make his way over to her so he did, but he waited until she opened her eyes again and was surprised by him. She laughed and apologized where he told her there was no reason to. Holding his hands out, she peered down and slid her fingers along his palms. The last song died down and the next started, it was slower, sensual, intimate. Garcia interlocked his fingers with hers as they moved back and forth, step by step. His eyes met hers, pulling one of her hands toward him and placing it on his shoulder. His palm found a place on her hip as his lips skimmed her forearm up to her shoulder, pulling her closer. They didn’t say anything as they moved in sync. Once the music ended this time, they stepped outside so they could hear each other speak. By the time they finally exchanged phone numbers, the club was emptying out and Amalia looked toward her friends as did Santiago. The pair had spoken about the dancing, club, food, drinks, if they were single, music and a few bad jokes. Well, between the both of them, quite a few bad jokes. 

My third WIP is one that I choose to blame @mysterious-moonstruck-musings since she fancies herself a sweet Dieter. So I gotta deliver because this is what she wants apparently. 🤭 I have vibes and two paragraphs at this point. Basically, you meet Dieter through one of his PA (because he's got 4 or 5 personal assistants who keeps track?) and he finds drawn to you? Was it crocs? Was it pizza? Was it a two am dance party to Paramore and Linkin Park? Maybe it was all of them or something else entirely? I'll work it out.

My last WIP is one I've been kicking around for a bit. It's a WIP I have with Marcus Pike. I've been dabbling him after a shooting or passing his firearm recertification exam and having PTSD (because I haven't tortured a Pedro character recently 👀) This one is also vibes, still working it out. I started mentioning therapy in my March prompts and it snowballed into this WIP.

This is what I have this week. Poor Javi G's outline still isn't vibing with me. I am going to figure it out though. 😭

Let me know if you have any questions about any of them. 🤗

NPT: @maggiemayhemnj @magpiepills @morallyinept @inept-the-magnificent @covetyou @chronically-ghosted @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @gemmahale @schnarfer @romanarose @perotovar @soft-girl-musings @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tinytinymenace @alltheglitterandtheroar @drawingdroid @yourcoolauntie @trulybetty @hannibals-favourite-meal @thefrogdalorian @gasolinerainbowpuddles

[xwonderfuldeath]

x \ Obsession - Chapter 4 / x

Warnings : Sexual content, alcohol !

Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi ! ♥

The noise surrounding him is deafening—a sweet blend of bass, good music, and pleasant moments. Bodies intertwine, voices shout to be heard. It had been a long time since he had gone out for a drink, and he couldn't deny it: it felt good.

Park Jimin, five-foot-seven, elevated by ankle boots with small heels, round cheeks giving him a babyish look, and typically Korean eyes that crinkled with every sip of his cocktail. He had arrived in this eternal furnace not long ago, unsure of where his steps would lead him. After yet another argument with his brother and parents who never took his side, he had left, determined to put an end to the situation once and for all.

Jimin was the eldest of two children. At first, his parents loved him—or at least tried to. They bought him clothes and new shoes when needed. Then his brother arrived. What a joke. No matter what happened, even with evidence in hand, his parents blamed him. A flowerpot broken by his brother? He’d receive the punishment. A lie about a missing cake? Again, his fault. Even now, at twenty-three, with a stable life, he was expected to help his brother financially so he wouldn’t lose his house.

It wasn’t his fault his brother was too dumb to fend for himself. Jimin wasn’t the solution to everything, and of course, this didn’t sit well with his parents. In the end, maybe it was partly his fault too. He had never really tried to put a definitive end to his desperate longing for loving parents.

He finished his drink with a bitter taste on his tongue. He shouldn’t be thinking about all that. After all, he had responded to a very enticing offer: an all-inclusive stay in lovely bungalows for the next two weeks, fully paid except for extras. He had jumped at the chance. Thanks to his dear little brother, he had lost his job and his small apartment. That scoundrel had lied convincingly enough to make his boss believe in an embezzlement scheme, and to repay non-existent damages, Jimin had been forced to sell his apartment. In the end, even here, they managed to ruin a moment for him.

“— Alone? May I join you?”

Jimin jumped, his eyes leaving the void they had been staring at. He gave a faint smile. The man was small, almost as short as he was, with the same typically Korean eyes, but a sly smile that Jimin half-returned. He gestured to the empty bar stool beside him, inviting the man to pull him out of his dark thoughts as the stranger ordered two new drinks. It wasn’t such a bad idea. He was only on his third drink, after all.

“— A little name I can call you? — Hmm... I don’t think so, no.”

Jimin slid against his stool, giving this man his full attention, a soft smile forming on his face. To be honest, he wasn’t unattractive. Far from it. Attractive enough to have an effect on Jimin, who let his eyes roam over pale skin and dyed hair. He didn’t feel like revealing his name. After all, he was only here for two weeks, no more. This stranger didn’t need to know his name. They’d likely never see each other again anyway.

“— Okay. So what should I call you, then? — Chim. Chim is fine. — Perfect, Chim. — And you? Do you have a name to share? — Suga.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t recall where he’d heard it. It didn’t bother him for long. Their conversation was pleasant enough to send shivers down Jimin’s spine and make him laugh softly before he finally agreed to follow the stranger to his car. His parents weren’t good parents. They had never taught him not to follow strangers at night, slightly too tipsy to walk on his own.

“— New in town? I’ve never seen you before. — I’m officially on vacation. I’m not staying. — Oh, a tourist, then? — Mm-hmm.”

The purring silence of the car helped him feel more at ease as the "cat" beside him drove. He couldn’t help himself: he had spent the evening comparing the man to a feline. Suga reminded him of a big tomcat that would probably enjoy being petted. His slender fingers pressed against the surprisingly muscular thigh of the man, who swore under his breath, glancing at him briefly to ensure he didn’t hit anyone with his car.

“— What? — I didn’t think I’d bring you into my car for this sort of thing. — Then why?”

Jimin wasn’t surprised when the car swerved a little sharply, taking the exit out of the city and into a gloomy forest. His eyebrows furrowed, but he couldn’t help laughing softly. Locals said it was haunted, so seeing someone willingly go there for such activities was surprising.

“— Aren’t you afraid that malicious spirits might come and watch us? — Let them. I don’t mind being observed.”

Jimin could feel the full weight of Suga’s words pressing down on him. The man’s eyes never left him as he unbuckled his seatbelt in the heavy silence. Jimin struggled to swallow. His small nose wrinkled slightly in amusement as he accepted the unspoken invitation without hesitation. He unfastened his own seatbelt before climbing onto the lap of the man who had captivated him all evening. Jimin felt Suga’s desire, hard and pressing against him. He didn’t wait, moving his hips just to hear the man let out an animalistic growl.

“— Though I can understand. Driving in this kind of situation can’t be very comfortable. — Chim. — Hmm? — You talk too much.”

Without warning, Suga slid his hands under Jimin’s thighs, lifting him out of the car and carrying him to the trunk. Their lips collided, rough and burning, and Jimin found himself laid out against the cold, unpleasant metal. Their clothes quickly became an unbearable nuisance. Jimin had never thought that such a place—barely at the edge of a forest—could excite him this much. Suga, though wild in his movements, was surprisingly delicate in his touches, learning how to caress Jimin’s soft skin without leaving marks.

“— I hope this isn’t your first time. — Why? — I don’t like inexperienced people. It irritates me.”

Jimin rolled his eyes but held back his retort, keeping it tucked away for later. He took back control, letting his mouth explore the man’s body beneath him. Warm, smooth, with a faint taste of vanilla. His teeth sank into the flesh, leaving marks and eliciting sharp moans from Suga. A sly smile spread across Jimin’s lips.

“— And I don’t like grumpy people. That irritates me.”

Suga didn’t have time to reply. Jimin’s mouth engulfed him, drawing a raw, feline-like sound from his throat. One thing was certain: Jimin knew what he was doing. Suga’s hips tried to follow, but Jimin gave him no chance. He dominated the exchange, not even offering Suga the opportunity to voice his thoughts. And when Jimin felt the tension building within Suga, as guttural noises escaped his throat, he abruptly pulled away, leaving Suga panting, frustrated, his eyes full of desire fixed on the naked body before him, silently screaming that he wasn’t a novice.

“— I think we can both agree that was a good time. — Hmm... Not bad at all.”

This time, Jimin had no chance to respond. His face contorted in pleasure as a moan, far from masculine, escaped him. Suga’s fingers had found their place with unnerving precision, making him arch his back and release small sounds he tried in vain to suppress. When Suga’s swollen length replaced his fingers, Jimin gasped for air. It was fiery, passionate. Jimin didn’t care about scratching the pale chest beneath him, suckling on skin that tasted like heaven. And when it was all over, he was almost disappointed.

In the end, Suga dropped him off in front of his bungalow. Even though the man clearly wanted to go for another round, Jimin had been firm. It would take more than a casual hookup to earn the privilege of sharing his bed. And while it had bruised Suga’s ego, he hadn’t insisted.

The door closed behind Jimin. Too tired to turn on the light, he used his phone to guide himself to the bed. His body collapsed onto the soft mattress, and he quickly fell into a deep sleep. The shower could wait—until he had the strength and desire to get up.

[wakaposting]

500 words rq. i need them to play board games

“If I tell you, will you promise to behave?”

Yorishige nodded enthusiastically. Then, as if sensing his own over-excitement, he closed his eyes serenely. “Yes, my lord. I will control myself. So please, tell me what it is that is bothering you so.”

Tokiyuki took a deep breath, his eyebrows twitching as he crossed his arms in front of himself, clearly debating whether or not he should speak. He kicked at the floor with the toe of his sandal, and then, quietly: “I would like you… to teach me how to play igo.”

There was the briefest moment of silence between them. Then, in one instant, Tokiyuki found himself wrapped up in Yorishige’s crushing embrace, his head squished against his chest.

“Really?” Yorishige exclaimed in excitement. “I see, I see! Tokiyuki-sama, I see!”

“You said you would behave!” Tokiyuki snapped at him, using all his strength to try to push himself out of Yorishige’s eager grip. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you!”

Yorishige refused to let him go so easily. Tokiyuki snuck one leg up between them and pressed his foot against Yorishige’s chest, pushing with all his might. He finally managed to escape, the extra leverage shooting him out of Yorishige’s arms with significant momentum.

“Ah…” Yorishige clicked his tongue. “You got away. Excellent escape work as always.”

Tokiyuki shot him a glare, smoothing out his wrinkled clothes. “Hmph! I shouldn’t have even asked. I don’t know what I was thinking…!”

“Don’t be so reactionary, my lord,” Yorishige chided him, holding his arms out wide. Tokiyuki flinched back instinctively, poised to make a run for it if Yorishige tried to advance. “Of course I shall teach you. Although, I would have assumed a boy of your lineage would have been taught the game from a very young age.”

Tokiyuki turned his gaze up to the ceiling, avoiding Yorishige’s eyes. “Well,” he said, hesitating slightly. “Of course I had lessons. My father even hired a tutor for me. But lessons are not worth very much if the student refuses to go…”

“How very like you,” Yorishige said good-naturedly, but Tokiyuki huffed anyway, slightly insulted.

“Anyway,” Tokiyuki said firmly, “I’d like to learn now. And you are arguably the best one to learn from, so I had no choice but to ask you.”

Yorishige chuckled to himself. “No choice? What about your retainers? Surely they must be familiar with the game.”

“Ayako can play fairly well,” Tokiyuki admitted, “but she doesn’t care for it. I’ve tried to play with her, but she gets bored, and drags me outside instead… Fubuki’s skills are far beyond my own, and I get frustrated with him. And neither Genba nor Kojiro know anything about it…”

“What about Shizuku?” Yorishige offered.

Tokiyuki made a face, glancing off to the side as if remembering something quite unpleasant. “She cheats,” he said plainly. “Even though she is already much better than me. I caught her rearranging the moku last time we played.”

Yorishige covered his mouth with his sleeve. “...She does that to me as well,” he admitted after a moment. “Even though she almost always has the upper hand.”

[specialagentlokitty]

Thomas barrow x teen!reader - a broken promise

Part two:

You had been warned by everybody to keep Thomas at arms length, and you were doing that to everybody, especially Thomas.

You had been working for a month now, and you had done well in avoiding the man, you left as soon as he entered a room or you refused to talk to him if he spoke to you.

Walking down the stairs, you stopped when you saw Thomas and you pushed yourself against the wall, eyes glued to the floor.

“You’ve been wanted away from me.” He said.

You never replied to him.

“You know, you shouldn’t go around believing everything people tell you (Y/N).”

You stayed quiet and he stepped up a step and you did the same.

“How about we start over?”

You glanced at him and you looked away, quickly shaking your head.

You rushed down the steps and behind him to quickly get away and you stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at them.

Thomas looked down at you.

“I just want to help you.”

You shook your head.

Thomas took a deep breath and sighed heavily.

You looked around and scurried away, and it wasn’t long until Thomas found you hiding away in the boot cupboard and he walked in, closing the door he grabbed some shoes and sat down opposite you.

You looked at the laces on the shoes you were supposed to be cleaning and you furrowed your brows a little bit.

Thomas flicked his eyes up to you.

“Just tuck them in.”

You ignored when he said and carried on staring at the shoes.

Taking them, he tucked the laces in and handed the shoes back and you looked at him briefly.

“I gather they told you horror stories about me? To stay away? Keep me at a distance?” He asked.

You set the shoe in your hand back down and nodded your head as you looked at everything laid in front of you.

Anna had explained the process of buffing Lady Mary’s shoes to you, but you still had absolutely no idea what you were doing.

Thomas set the boots he was working on aside and picked up another pair and sat back down at the table.

He set his boots on the table and he looked at you.

“You have no idea what you’re doing do you?”

You slowly shook your head.

Thomas sighed and he moved his chair around and he sat next to you, and he explained what everything was and what it was for.

“Just copy what I’m doing.”

So you did, you mirrored his movements, just like you were taught to when you were a child, how to mirror peoples actions.

And pretty quickly you got the hang of it, and you were able to finish both of them before Thomas finished the boots he was working on.

“You’re a fast learner.” He said.

You sat nothing and you set the shoes to the side and put all the things you were using away in the cabinet.

“It’s rude not to say thank you.”

You looked at Thomas and looked away.

“Thank you..” you whispered.

You went to leave and Thomas stood up, placing his hand on the door to stop you and you backed away a few steps.

“People have opinions of me, I know they do. But I should prefer it if you would build your own opinion of me (Y/N), and not let them sway your thoughts.”

You backed around the table and Thomas watched you very carefully.

“You’re scared of me.” He said.

You said nothing and that was all the confirmation Thomas needed.

He stepped away from the door.

“Go.”

He opened the door and you all but rushed past him in order to get out of the room.

Thomas sat back down, trying to figure out why you would be scared of him. He knew you were skittish around people, but you were actually scared of him.

Was it something someone told you?

He had no idea.

And he began to carefully watch you.

Watching how you would dart around not just him everybody, but you kept extra care when you had to pass him.

You only really spoke quietly to Anna and Mrs Hughes, and even then it wasn’t often, and when you weren’t needed you just vanished.

“She really is a mystery.” Mrs Patmore said.

“Who?” Mr Carson asked.

“(Y/N), I asked her if she wanted to come inside for tea but she’s just sat on a log outside.”

“Outside? Its nearly dark.” Mrs Hughes said.

“I worry that girls had a some hard upbringing.” Anna said.

Everybody looked at her.

“You’re all thinking it as well.”

Thomas listened from around the corner to what they were saying it.

“Well, I suppose she does behave rather peculiar, but is that any excuse for us to judge how she was raised?” Mr Carson asked.

“Well, no. But I do agree with Anna, (Y/N)s always so scared of everybody. Perhaps we can try work on gaining her trust?” Mr Bates asked.

They all mumbled to themselves.

“I think she’s a lovely girl.” Daisy said.

Thomas pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the door leading outside, and he stepped out, closing it behind him as he pulled out a cigarette.

Just like Mrs Patmore said, you were sat in a log on the gravel, hands cupped together as you looked into them.

Thomas lit his cigarette and you looked up at him before looking back down.

“Do you not fancy a cup of tea?” Thomas asked.

You shook your head and raised your hands a little to look at whatever you were holding and Thomas furrowed his brows.

“What do you have?”

You got up and you walked over to him with your hands cupped together, and when you were close enough you stopped and opened your hands again.

“Bee.” You said softly.

“Where on earth did you find a bee? How did you catch it?”

You cupped your hands together again.

“It’s sick…”

“How do you know?”

You shrugged a little bit and walked back over to the log and you sat back down.

Thomas took a drag of his cigarette.

“Will you kill it?” He asked.

You quickly shook your head.

“No, we don’t hurt bees..” you said softly.

You looked at Thomas before looking away.

He stomped his cigarette out and walked over, standing a few feet away from you as he looked down at you.

“What will you do with it?”

You shrugged again, and you both looked over as the door opened.

“Is Thomas bothering you?” Mrs Hughes asked.

You shook your head and looked in your hands.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“She’s somehow found a bee.” Thomas said.

“Good heavens (Y/N) you can’t go picking things like that up throw it in the grass.”

You quickly shook your head and stood up.

“She says it’s sick and she doesn’t know what she’s going to do with it.” Thomas explained.

Mrs Hughes looked at him confused and he shrugged his shoulders a little bit.

“Well, can you make it better?” Mrs Hughes asked.

You nodded your head.

“How?”

“Put some sugar in water..”

Thomas and Mrs Hughes shared another look.

“Thomas go tell Mrs Patmore to make you a cup of sugar water and bring it out with a spoon.”

“What do I tell her?”

“Just tell her it’s for (Y/N).”

Thomas walked away and Mrs Hughes walked over, standing next to you, and you stood up, showing her the bee and she stepped away.

“I don’t like bees very much.”

You nodded your head and pulled it away.

“Do you like bees?”

“I like animals..”

“I see, do you have a favourite animal?”

Mrs Hughes wondered if this was a chance they could use to get to know you a little better.

You glanced at her then back to your new friend, and you shook your head a little bit.

Thomas came back out and you sat down, holding the bee in one hand, you set the cup on the ground and put some of the water on a spoon, and set it on the ground, setting the bee on it.

You watched it in fascination, carefully watching it, and a few others came out to see what was going on, all of them water the little bee.

After a few minutes, you picked up the bee and set the spoon in the cup, and you walked over to some plants, setting the bee on a leaf.

“Bye bee…” you whispered.

You wondered back over to the log and you picked up the cup, holding it carefully.

“What happens now?” Thomas asked.

“He rests, then flies away…”

“And it’ll work?” Daisy asked.

You nodded your head and she smiled brightly.

“Wow, do you know a lot about animals?”

You shrugged a little bit and looked around.

Without another word you wondered back inside and Mrs Hughes sighed softly.

“Well, that was something.” She said.

“She’s got a passion, you can’t fault her for that.” Anna said.

Everybody went inside and like always you were gone, the cup and spoon had been washed and you had vanished somewhere.

The next morning you were sitting at the table waiting for breakfast and Thomas sat next to you, and you moved chairs.

“How do you know that sugar water would help?” He asked.

You sat nothing, and you stared at the piano in the corner of the room, so Thomas looked as well.

“Can you play piano?”

You shook your head.

“Do you know what a piano is?”

“Don’t be rude Thomas.” Daisy said.

She set your tea in front of you and smiled at you, and you whispered a small thank you.

“I’m not, I’m just curious.”

Daisy turned to you.

“Have you seen a piano before?”

You shook your head and you got up, walking over to it as you inspected it carefully.

“You just press the keys down, like this.”

Daisy pressed a key down, and you jumped at the noise, shaking your head a little to try and rid of the sheer loudness of it.

“Oh I’m sorry!” Daisy panicked.

You shook your head, rubbing your ears with your hands as you backed away from the piano.

“(Y/N)?” Daisy asked.

“Daisy give her a minute.” Thomas said.

They both watched you, and you removed your hands from your ears, and you walked back over to your chair and sat down.

“Not a fan of music then?”

You didn’t reply to Thomas and he frowned a little bit.

You sipped at your tea and you rubbed one of your ears again.

Thomas watched you carefully, and you finally stopped, and you sipped your tea again.

Thomas said nothing and he went back to reading the paper again, and you just sat there in your own little world.

“Her ladyship is asking for (Y/N), and Thomas you’re needed in the drawing room as well.” Mrs Hughes said.

You got up to follow Mrs Hughes, heard racing in your chest.

You had been here for a month now, and you had yet to meet the family, and you were incredibly nervous about doing so.

Thomas walked next to you and he looked at you.

“Look them in the eye, and address them as my Lord and my lady..” he whispered.

You nodded your head and followed them both into the room, looked around at the two people inside.

“Ah, Thomas, Mr Carson has things to do so you can serve the tea.”

Mrs Hughes led you over to a woman and you looked at her.

“Hello my lady..” you whispered.

“I’ve heard you are quite the bee catcher.” Lady Cora said.

You nodded your head.

“There’s one by the window, and we can’t see to be rid of it, could you help?” Lord Grantham asked.

“Yes my lord.”

You walked over to the window he showed you too and you looked over it, listening and you heard the buzzing a few windows away so you walked over.

Reaching your hand out, you held it up and wait for the been to crawl onto your hand, and you brought it back down, covering it with your other hand.

“Wow, and you can do it that easily?” Lord Grantham asked you.

“Yes my lord.”

“Well, thank you.”

You nodded your head and rushed away to release the creature, and Thomas watched you in curiosity.

Not everybody would just walk up to a bug and happily touch it, and not everybody seemed so passionate about them either but you did.

And it gave him a little more insight on you, and a new possible way for him to get you to interact with him, so he added it to the list of strange things about you he was making in his head.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was searching for at the moment, but he was sure that all of these strange behaviours you had were linked by the same thing.

That evening when he went outside to smoke he found you sat in the same place as last night.

“Another bee?” He asked.

You shook your head and looked at him.

You got up and walked over to him, holding something else in your hands this time, and he recognised it as a deck of playing cards.

“Do you want to play a game?”

“A game?..”

Thomas reached out and you flinched back, and he raised his hands.

“Alright, alright. Have you played card games before?”

You shook your head.

“Where’d you find them?”

“Mine…”

“I see, okay. Well, how about I teach you an easy game?”

You titled your head at him a little in interest, and Thomas realised that was his way in. Your curiosity about things, if he could teach you about things you didn’t know, he could hopefully get to know about you and who you actually were.

You quickly shook your head and held the cards to his chest.

“Okay. If you change your mind I’ll teach you one.”

You nodded and sat back on the log looking at the playing cards in your hand, and Thomas sighed to himself.

There was something definitely off about you, and it seemed so familiar, like he’d heard it or read about it somewhere but he wasn’t sure what it was, and he wanted to know

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Eighteen

Back in Clontarf, I perch at the gleaming, marble island while Jude prepares dinner. I watch him doing it with undisguised interest, because he cooks the way that I imagine he makes art, fully absorbed, with precision and confidence, and completely and utterly in the flow of his own enjoyment. He connects his iPhone to a Bluetooth speaker and plays music for a while, until Ivy bursts in and complains that she can’t focus on her homework with all of the noise.

He switches it off for her, but even in the silence he moves around to the beat of the music in his head, with a smile on his face that only endures the more stupid questions I ask him about what he’s doing. He’s making a spice mix in a pestle and mortar, he’s coating the fillets in flour, that’s actually rose water, not vanilla, yes, he taught himself how to do this, those flowers are actually totally edible, they’re not just there to look good, so a shallot is actually stronger than an onion, that’s why he’s using it. He prepared a lot of it earlier, marinating fresh fish in harissa for hours, and par boiling the potatoes so that they’d be oven ready by the time we got home from visiting Jen, and when I ask him where he found the time to do all of this he explains that he was simply procrastinating, because he doesn’t want to write his thesis. 

We eat at the dining table with Ivy, who shovels the food into her mouth in the span of about five minutes despite her complaints about it tasting bad, and gives a series of very bored, one word answers to his questions about school in between mouthfuls. He reminds her that she should practise for her piano lesson tomorrow and tells her that he can’t collect her from afterschool hockey so she’ll have to get the bus. It occurs to me that this is perhaps the most un-sibling like relationship I’ve ever witnessed. Perhaps it’s a symptom of their age gap. 

“Where’re your parents tonight?” I query once Ivy rushes off to her bedroom to reconvene whatever teen girl things were interrupted by dinner, and he looks down at his plate. “Working late again.”

“Seems like they really like to work.”

“They sure do. Or they really like not having to be in this house.”

He’s said things like this to me before, these kind of vaguely troubling statements about his parents in very casual, matter of fact ways, as though they’re entirely absent and have no love for each other whatsoever, and this is something he finds normal. I’ve never asked him about it before, and something I’ve never quite been able to handle the idea of broaching, but now, since we’re… kind of, sort of going out with each other it suddenly feels important to know whether his expectations for his own relationships are different to his parents’ strange marriage.  

“What is it about them?”

“We don’t have to discuss these grim things about my family, it’s alright.”

“We don’t have to, but I think I’d like to know about it.”

He pushes his food thoughtfully around his plate. “They just shouldn’t have gotten married, I suppose. I think they meant well initially but it’s ultimately done more damage than good.” He glances towards the closed door and up towards the ceiling, where his sister is, and lowers his voice a little bit. “I think they’ll probably get a divorce as soon as Ivy finishes school.”

“Oh.”

“I’m the reason they’re married, and she’s the reason they’re still together. They had this amazing idea at one point that having another child would solve all of their issues, but now they’ve just trapped themselves in a bind for an extra nine years. They could be blissfully divorced by now, but they won’t do it until she’s moved out, because they don’t want to disrupt her schooling.” 

“How old were they when you were born?”

“Nineteen and twenty one.” 

“Oh, God.”

“Yep, big mistake. Whoops.” he tosses a chunk of potato into his mouth and leans back in his chair. “Mom finished school and went to stay with her aunt in America, took up a job at a department store in Albuquerque, hooked up with a med student at a bar on her first month there, and well…” He throws up his hands in mock celebration. “Here I am!”

“I suppose that being unmarried with a child wasn’t really an option for your mother at the time.” 

“No, not at all, I mean, she had come from catholic Ireland. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to live at home again unless she married the man from that bar.” The way he speaks about his father is strange, as though despite his presence in their lives, he’s still some random, nameless med student from San Bernardino. 

“And then what?” 

“Well, then my dad continued school, and my mom began her studies and my great aunt took care of me on and off until my dad got his doctorate degree. Then they had Ivy, on purpose, by the way, and when she was a baby we moved back here.” He shrugs. “That’s all.”

I breathe out a laugh. “You’re so cagey.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah it’s like you don’t want to talk about them, or your home life, like, ever.”

He doesn’t look like he’s all that bothered by my interrogation, he just gives me this self-effacing little smile. “Come on, Evie. It’s because this stuff is boring.” 

“I don’t think it’s boring at all.” 

“Well, okay. They didn’t want to be together, they shouldn’t have had kids, and they act like they never did because they barely parented either one of us. Has anyone ever told you that you’re bad at letting things drop?”

“Yeah, loads. Has anyone ever told you that you’re bad at talking about serious things?”

“Of course.” The corner of his mouth quirks up and he lifts my arm from the table to kiss the inner part of my wrist. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?”

“Yes, you. Tell me what it was like for you when you were growing up.” 

“I’ve told you loads about my childhood already though.” 

“Yeah, you have, and I loved hearing about how badly behaved you were and what it felt like to live in America, but I wish you’d get into the guts of it, the real stuff.”

“The real stuff?”

“The stuff that makes you so clearly sad. You get that look on your face whenever it comes up.”

He hasn’t let go of my wrist, and now his thumb is gently stroking the skin that he kissed a moment before while he stares out into the garden through streak-free glass patio doors, and he chews on his lip before deciding to speak. “Well, when Ivy was born I stopped being a kid, I suppose. My parents didn’t have a lot of interest in caring for either of us, and I was lucky, because my great aunt in Albuquerque did all of that for them when I was little, but when we moved here the support system really fell away. Nobody had considered that. We have my mom’s parents, but they’re about as warm as she is, and even though we’d be dumped over to theirs at the weekends, it wasn’t like we had especially fun or memorable times. Usually we’d get some bucket of crap toys from the seventies and whatever was on the three TV channels that they had. They were okay, but Ivy was a really nervous toddler. She didn’t like being around unfamiliar people, to the point that our grandmother would have to roll her bottles down the hallway to where she was hiding at the bottom of the stairs so that she’d drink anything at all. She just screamed whenever either of our grandparents came near her. It just wasn’t working out, so we eventually stopped having to go, and by then, when I was like eleven, it just made sense that I’d look after her instead.”

“What did that involve?”

“Everything. Feeding her, dressing her, putting her to bed, shopping for food, toys, eventually bringing her to the creche. She used to go to the childminders while I was at school, but only until I finished at three or four o’clock, and then I’d swing by and get her. A child collecting another child, like, I don’t know if they’d let that kind of thing happen anymore, but it was a small family run childminders, the kind of lawless place where they have this one old granny looking after about twelve children in her house and everything and anything goes. My mom used to come home and cook dinner for a while, but she was delighted when I got old enough to do that for her too. It meant she could stay out of the house for longer and do whatever she used to do. Have affairs or whatever.” He huffs out a laugh. “I mean, I really don’t know if that was ever the case but I wouldn’t be that surprised. Everything got really confined because of Ivy, you know? I always had to be home, and helping, and collecting and living my life on this schedule while all the other teenagers were just being blissfully selfish and… just teenagers.”

“But you had time to yourself, surely?”

“Yeah, at night when my parents were finally home from work, but I mean, yeah, it wasn’t about not having time to do hobbies or hang out with my friends, it was about having to do it at all. It was about having to consider those things. Nobody should have to parent their siblings, it was really stifling and really unfair. If my parents wanted another child then they should have been prepared to take care of her. You can’t just offload that responsibility onto the older child. I resented it, and I still do.”

I spear my fingers into the side of his hair and run my hand down the back of his head. “That’s why you went to Berlin.” 

“I just didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have ever had to.”

“Right.” He hesitates and his teeth rake over his lower lip, pulling the skin until it’s taut and white. “I just feel like going to Berlin was the most selfish thing I could have possibly done though.”

“No way.” I say. “It forced your parents to do what they should have been doing all along, and look after your sister.” 

“Yeah but it didn’t really do that. I look at Ivy now, and she’s doing a lot of those things I used to do for her all on her own. My parents never stepped up like I hoped they would, so she’s just becoming another teenager with too many responsibilities, and parents that will divorce as soon as they can and leave her without a solid base to come home to when she’s in college. And then, you know, on the other hand I think about Jen, and how bad everything has become for her and I know that if I’d stayed, and if I’d been here for her then maybe I could have-”

“It’s no use thinking that, Jude. You had to be on your own for once. You can’t hold up the whole world on your shoulders.”

“I’m selfish.” His voice is acidic, and the moment I feel his fingers loosen on me I grab a hold of his sleeve, because all of a sudden it feels vitally important to keep a connection between us.

“You didn’t get a proper childhood. I’d be even more selfish if I were you. You need to be doing the things that you want to do, seeing the world, partying with your friends, all of that stuff that you’ve been doing for the last four years. It’s all food for your soul.” 

“You’re too forgiving of me. It’s okay to say that I’ve been generally inconsiderate.”

“You’re way too hard on yourself.” I say quietly. “And you know that’s not true. You’re a good person, and you were always so nice to me, even when I was quiet and shy. You made an effort to talk to me at that time that Jen invited me to that modern art exhibition in Dublin, and you made me feel so included and asked so many questions about me even though I felt so nervous around you both.”

“I feel like that’s the least anyone could have done.” He says sulkily, as though he doesn’t really feel like being talked out of his mood. “The more I dwell on it the more I think there is something seriously wrong with me. Something that should have been figured out a lot earlier, but like, here I am, a twenty two year old, in the final months of my final year at college and I feel a bit… I dunno, lost, or something. I’m floundering, and I don’t really know who I am anymore. I swore I had it figured out at eighteen but now that seems laughable to me.”

“Nobody tells you how weird it is to be in your twenties.” I declare. “They insist that it’s amazing and fun and you’ll have all of this independence, but actually it feels strange and vulnerable, and there’s no rule book about how to navigate your way through it. One day you’re a stupid teenager and the next you live on your own and you have to know how to use the city bus and remember the pin of a debit card.”

“Yeah.” 

“It’s alright that you find it hard, is all I’m saying, and I for one, feel like I truly knew nothing about being an adult. To be honest sometimes I get a bit freaked out by how lost I feel. But then I try not to think about it, and I just go on with my day.”

“That’s your advice?” He says, with the hint of a smile threatening to crack through the gloom. “Just don’t think about it?”

“Probably shouldn’t be, should it?”

“I think that’s terrible advice, Evie.”

“Well that’s all I have for you.”

He leans into me and lightly kisses my jaw before going back to his food, and the featherlight touch of his lips sends shivers right down to my toes. “Well I think we should think about hard things.” He says. “I think that ignoring them only gives them more power, actually.”

“Maybe some things aren’t meant to be processed now. They’re meant for later.”

“How much later?”

“I don’t know. Just later.” I push the last of my dinner onto my fork and into my mouth and try not to feel self-conscious about the fact that he’s watching me like I’m under a spotlight. 

“I just want you to know that if you ever wanted to talk to me about any of the things that happened you in first year then-”

My chair makes a hideous scraping noise against the parquet floor. “Do you have any pictures of you when you were small?” I say, wiping my hands on the thighs of my jeans, and he blinks. “Um. Why?”

“Just when we were talking about your childhood, like,” I stack his empty plate on top of mine. “I was wondering to myself what you might have looked like as a little boy. That’s all.”

“There are some, somewhere yeah. I can root them out if you want.”

“I’d love that, would you mind?” I hastily pack things away in the dishwasher, and I put the plates in crookedly, and I can’t find where the cutlery goes, and Jude is there, and he takes the forks out of my hands and gingerly places them into the sink. 

“It’s fine. Leave it.” He says. “Come into the living room, I’ll get the baby photos out.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[littledraga]

Fairy Hunting

Baby Tiffany getting a rare free day and going exploring!

It was finally warm enough to go exploring again after a long and cold winter. The first flowers were blooming in the bright sun as a little Tiffany hiked through the trees. Even at all of seven, it was rare for her to have so much time to herself to go exploring. And she wasn’t about to let it go to waste!

All winter Grandpa had told her stories about the fairies in the woods, and she wanted to see them for herself! She knew about the dangerous creatures in the mountains that protected her village. But it wasn’t often she could hear stories about creatures who only wanted to play and have fun!

With a small wooden box under her arm, she excitedly ran off the beaten path to look for the best spot to see a fairy. The fairy hunting box would help her, just like Grandpa told her when he had shown her. She just needed a good spot.

One hour turned to two, then three. By now, Tiffany was in a place she’d never been before. Something she would normally think was exciting, but the trees were so dense she wasn’t sure which way was which anymore. Sitting down on a fallen tree, she set the fairy box down to have a think and figure out how to get home. Though she most definitely didn’t cry. She didn’t sob and scrub her face on her sweater, afraid she wouldn’t find her way back. No, not at all.

And it was while she was certainly not crying that someone noticed her. Someone who’d never seen a child out this way before. And for good reason.

“Children shouldn’t be here, you know,” said a small voice that made Tiffany jump.

Snapping her head up, Tiffany looked around. But she couldn’t see anyone. Something that made her very afraid. So she did as she was always taught when something was amiss. Keep her eyes open and her mouth shut.

“It’s dangerous here. You should go home,” said the voice again. Concerned this time. And closer.

Tiffany tried to pinpoint the voice, looking around and behind her. But still, no one was there. It was rather strange, she thought to herself as she turned around to sit properly again. Only to have a green light glowing in her face.

She let out a high pitched scream and fell back onto the grass and dirt with a thump and a whimper. If they were that close, she was in trouble.

But instead came laughter. Looking up from where she was sprawled in the dirt, Tiffany watched as the tiniest man she had ever seen walked to the edge of the log, surrounded by a green light that seemed to pulse from wings tucked neatly on his back. He laughed as he watched her, hands on his hips.

“Jumpy little thing, ain’tcha?” He teased as Tiffany fumbled back onto her feet. His hair was green as the light around him. Floating up from the wood, he got closer again.

“Ya heard me, didn’t ya?” He asked and flew around her head, making her spin in a circle and giggled when she did.

“I-I did,” she admitted sheepishly. “But I don’t know where here is to leave.”

The little man crossed his arms and sighed. “A bit old ta be gettin’ lost in the woods, aintcha? Kids your size normally know where you’re goin’. Or at least not ta come out this way.”

“I’m only seven!” Yelled Tiffany, her little hands on her hips. “Northsmen are just tall! Not my fault everyone else is short,” she mumbled as her shoulders slumped. It was hard, being a little girl who could only afford boys hand me downs and was already taller than the boys her age.

“A Northsman, huh? I ain’t ever heard of that. You some type of giant? I’ve met those before!” Spinning around Tiffany again, he flew up high and into the branches above her.

“Had to fly this high just so he’d hear me! You gonna be that tall?”

“No!” She giggled as he came back down to spin around her before lounging on the log.

“Northsmen are humans! We just grow extra tall where we come from. Wherever that is.” Her father rarely talked about where he was from after all. No matter how much she begged. He’d just huff and walk away.

“Humans are weird!” He laughed.

“Fairies never get big. Means we can nap anywhere we like. And I can always have the best hiding spot in hide and seek!”

Tiffany gasped and jumped on her feet.

“You’re a fairy!” she shouted.

“A real life fairy, right?” After bringing the fairy hunting kit this far and she didn’t even need it!

Said fairy watched her a moment before falling back in a fit of laughter.

“I am. What did you think I was? I fly?”

“I’ve never seen a fairy! I came out to see one because I’ve never seen one. Grandpa told me lots of stories all winter about fairies and their games. So I wanted to see for myself. So I borrowed his fairy hunting box so I could find you! Well, a fairy anyway.”

While she continued to ramble and rattle away about stories, and something about running into a frong. Or probably a frog. The fairy sat and watched her with a grin. This was why most fairies like children. Who else enjoyed things as much as a child?

“Sounds like you’ve had an adventure! And I’d know, I’ve been on a few myself, you know,” he told her as he moved to sit on her shoulder.

“Lots and lots of them! I could tell you some while we get you home?” He offered.

Tiffany beamed at the offer. Meeting a fairy and getting to hear their stories? It was better than a Giving! She nodded her head so hard her body moved with her. Causing her new friend to yelp and tumble. Luckily, his wings caught him.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

Instead of being upset, the fairy laughed as he righted himself.

“Alright, alright. I’ll fly on my own then!” He teased.

“Now, where is home for my tiny giant friend, hm? Which set of humans do you belong to?”

It took Tiffany a few seconds to understand, but when she did she made to point. Pausing only once she remembered she didn’t know the way.

“I’m in Kingspool. The village on the cape. I live up on the cliff.”

“All the way down there?” The fairy whistled. Long walk for a little human.

“We’d better hurry if you want to be home for supper, my tiny giant! But lucky you, I know the way. I’ve fought off a few of your cats,” he laughed as they started back down the mountain and to a path to take his new friend home.

"The cats are mean," she agreed while they walked. She never had much luck with the cats in Kingspool. The ones by the docks were the worst!

"They are!" Laughed the fairy flying just a little ahead to mimic swatting them. "There was a tabby that chased down rabbits day and night!" He complained.

"Couldn't have that. Fat cat ate plenty without being a big bully! Took a while to chase him off. Broke my wing too! I thought I was done for," he whined, sinking a little as he flew.

Tiffany covered her mouth and gasped.

"Oh no! That must have been scary! Our cats get big! Was he going to eat you too?" Adjusting the fairy box, she kept pace with her new friend as he flew a bit ahead to show the way.

"Probably. But luckily for me. I'm smarter than a little bunny," he giggled and spun around.

As Tiffany walked behind the fairy, she leaned closer, excited to hear more. A fairy with stories! What could be better than that? She almost hoped she wouldn’t make it home in time for supper. This was better than anything her mother could make.

“What did you do? Oh, you didn’t hurt them too bad, did you?” Even if they chased her relentlessly, she would feel bad if something bad happened to them.

The fairy laughed hard. His head tilted back so far that he ended up flipping back having to steady himself with a few hard flaps of his glowing wings. Human children were some of the most curious creatures and excitable.

“He was alright. Mostly. A couple cuts and scrapes, nothing his humans couldn’t help him with. Managed to get him to run off. And straight into a rose bush!” He laughed again, holding his sides.

Which made Tiffany laugh too! She supposed that wasn’t so bad. She’d fallen in them too. It hurt, but nothing bad ever happened to her! The worst part was the scolding she got for ripping a new shirt.

“I’m glad he stopped being a bully! No one should be that mean! But how did you scare him into the bush if he broke your wings?”

He gave the little girl a smug look before turning to float upside down.

“Cats are stupid,” he explained simply. When that wasn’t enough, he kicked his feet to get upright again. Clearly, a fairy who enjoyed a good story. Or, at least, a chance to brag.

“When he wasn’t paying attention, I threw pebbles at his tail. Huge fluffy thing it was!” He spread his arms wide.

“And when he turned to look at what got his tail, I threw one on his whiskers. Back and forth and over again! Until the stupid cat spun himself silly!”He giggled again at that, spinning around like he was chasing his own wings.

“Then with a loud hiss, he ran off straight into the thorn bush! Dumb cat stayed inside for a week!”Smacking his hands together, he mimicked the cat with a laugh.

Picturing a cat running in circles, little Tiffany couldn’t help but loudly laugh as well. What a silly sight it must have been! She wished she could have seen it for real.

“That’s really smart!” She praised, laughing more when he puffed out his chest with pride. Fairies were better than the stories. Tiffany almost didn’t want to go home, even as she followed him down a barely used path.

“One of the smartest! And the toughest!” He told her, playfully flexing his arms while he guided her on, careful of anything else in the mountains that would want to hurt a little girl. While fairies weren’t the only things among the trees that liked children, it wasn’t for the same reasons.

“Do you have any other fun stories?” She begged as she jumped on a log and walked down it with her arms outstretched.

“Lots!” He chirped as he playfully ducked and weaved between low branches.

“I could tell you about when I fought off a Treewalker!” The fairy stopped at that and seemed to think for a moment.

“Maybe not. You might be a little young for that story. It’s scary.” Tapping his lip, the fairy hummed, before grinning rather slyly at his tiny giant.

Jumping off the long, she hurried to the fairy. Hands on her hips, she leaned forward a little.

“I’m brave! I’m going to be the guardian of Kingspool when I grow up! Grandpa already taught me lots! I can scare off the banshees! And I know when a shadow isn’t a shadow, or or,” she explained how to protect someone from some of the less scary creatures that lived around.

Something the fairy was quite impressed by as he listened, floating backward as she talked. Most adults didn’t know how to take such good care of themselves! What a smart little girl he’d found. He was surprised she was as lost as she was.

The fairy listened until he bumped into a tree from not paying attention. Laughing, he rubbed his head.

“Aren’t you a smart little giant!” He praised with a laugh. Briefly, he wondered if she needed his help. But either way, he was having far too much fun.

“I guess if you’re that brave, I’ll tell you the story of when I stopped a Treewalker that tried to gobble up my friends and chase us away from home.”

That made her stop in her tracks, bright green eyes wide and her little mouth hanging open.

“You stopped a Treewalker?!” She squeaked. Those were too dangerous for the adults!

“Grandpa says they’re super dangerous, and I should run away if I see one. They trick you, making you think they’re just another tree with vines hanging off it.”

The fairy nodded his head as he flew a bit to try to get her walking again.

“He’s right! They’ll eat anyone they can fit between their teeth.” He held his hands up and mimicked eating with his teeth bared. Not even the animals were that dangerous.

“They’re very tough! Their skin is like tree bark. Makes them very hard to fight,” he explained.

Which had Tiffany rushing to catch up. She needed to know! How did someone so small beat something even the adults were afraid of?

“What did you do? Did you use fairy magic on him?”

“Couldn’t! That doesn’t work on, well, most things ‘cept animals and humans,” he admitted with a laugh. Clearing his throat when she frowned.

“I had to fight him off by myself! With thorn daggers and thistle arrows!” Pulling out said daggers, he spun them in his hands and did a quick trick of tossing them up and catching them.

“Tougher than the stuff you find on a bush, but still not very strong against a Treewalker when he’s hungry. But I wasn’t going to let him eat any of my friends!” He explained, swooping low and back up again.

“I stabbed at his fingers and wrists to make him drop my friends, but it wasn’t enough. He was stubborn! No matter how many times I hit him, he just didn’t care. I thought we were done for!”

“Oh no!” Gasped Tiffany, covering her mouth. Treewalkers never stopped until they were full. Though she’d never heard of them ever being full, just always starving.

“What did you do? Did he eat everyone?” She worried and bounced from foot to foot, even as she tried to keep up. The fairies had to be okay! They had to. Otherwise, that wouldn’t be fair. And to a seven year old, fairness was still very important.

“Nah! Fairies are known for being clever, you know.” He pretended to knock back an arrow and winked.

“When I knew I couldn’t stop him from eating my friends, I did the only thing I could do! I shot him in the eyes. One right after the other!” Pretending to let go of the imaginary arrows, he raised his hands triumphantly.

“Then! When he was yelling and scratching at his eyes, I threw a dagger in his mouth!”

Wide eyed, Tiffany jumped. They were so small. How could something so small stop something as big as a tree?

“Was it enough? Did you scare him off?”

At first, he just beamed before he nodded.

“It worked! When he couldn’t open his eyes he got really mad and started to swing his fists like mad! But I dodged him easy. When I threw the dagger, he decided we were too much work and bumped around and away!”

Tiffany cheered loudly, throwing a fist into the air. Happy endings were her favourite.

“You’re amazing! Grandpa was right. Fairies are wonderful,” she praised.

“Thank you! It’s always good to know someone still likes us,” he told her, coming to a stop.

“Maybe if I see you again, I can tell you more stories,” he offered before waving a hand.

They were in a familiar spot. The trees faded away, and in the distance was a small house on a cliff with a tin roof and smoke curling out of the chimney.

Tiffany stood in awe. Looking over her shoulder, she spun around, trying to make sense of everything. They hadn’t walked that long, surely? Had she gotten so turned around that she hadn’t actually gone far?

Watching her, the fairy giggled.

“Your grandpa should have told you stories about fairy rings. And that you should never walk into one,” he warned with a serious look but smiled quickly.

“Sometimes we don’t let you go. Things are different on this side.”

For the first time since she was found, Tiffany looked afraid. Grandpa had warned her about fairy rings! But she never noticed. Did that mean she was trapped?

Though her new friend only let her worry for a moment.

“Don’t worry, I don’t like keeping people. Most the time. Just keep walking straight ahead, and you’ll make it home.”

When she didn’t move at first, the fairy sighed and crossed his arms. It really was only right to not trust a fairy, he supposed. Especially when he’d already tricked her once. For her own good or not.

“Go on. I’ll stay right here until you get inside and see your parents,” he promised.

He wouldn’t lie, right? But if she left, there would be no more stories. Would she ever get to meet a fairy again?

“Are you going to go far away when you go away?” She asked, fidgeting with her hands.

A small hum and the fairy sunk down to sit on her shoulder again.

“Far away for me, and far away for you aren’t the same thing,” he explained. Things were very different for fairies than they were for humans after all.

“But you better not get lost again,” he teased, grinning wide when she giggled.

“Be careful out there, and I bet I’ll see you again if you go hunting for fairies.” A playful nudge, and he shooed her off.

“Thank you for taking me home! I hope you have lots of fun adventures!” She called as she ran to her little house where dinner was being made still.

Once she made it inside, she didn’t even say hello before she looked out the window.

Just like he said, there was a little green light at the edge of the trees. A little bounce, and it darted away as her grandfather stepped over to put a hand on her head.

“Did you make a friend out there today?”

“Yeah! I met the best fairy!” She giggled as she sat at the table for dinner. The very best fairy indeed. With stories she would keep forever. Tiffany would never stop keeping an eye out for a little green light.

Even when she grew too old to play with fairies and the expectations of the village bore heavy on her shoulders, Tiffany always watched for little green fairy lights.

[straveltoriesblogs]

Solace at hill, under the Moonlight

Hello,

Nice to meet you all. It’s been a long time coming. I have been procrastinating from past year. Something we shouldn’t be proud of and I’m not either but that’s how I found the courage to take the first step and let the rest fall in time.

My first solo trip. A trip for which all the arrangements were made at the very last moment, but it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that it was in my mind long before I started talking about it.

A Solo trip, like everyone else I am hoping to find myself and have a better answer for WHO I AM which includes more than my profession. Well, that’s what I thought before going on one and seeing multiple videos about it. I got the idea of going on this trip from my mom. She is the one who bought a trekking bag for me. The moment I saw the bag a scene from “Yeh Jawani Hai Dewani” flashed when Bunny got a bag from his father with the list of things, he should be careful of. Well! That’s exactly the case with my mom. On one hand, she is one who taught me to live my life on my terms but at the same time, she was worried. Still, she helped me pack my stuff and cooked dinner for me to eat later at night while traveling. 

I booked a cab and left my home with the hope to have the best time of my life. I was not scared rather I was excited to embark on this beautiful journey. I reached the station 1 hour before bus timings, like any typical Indian. Hahaha… and as I was standing at the bus stop after covering a 2-hour journey via cab and a metro as far as I could see I couldn’t find anyone who was standing alone with the heavy bag on their shoulder. All I could see was a group of friends laughing, eating Cheetos, and making fun of each other, while their eyes were shining brighter than the sun and their souls were beaming with light. Like, everything is perfect as it should be. And as I was focused on them, suddenly I heard a lady in a yellow saree and a red cardigan, with a big red bindi on her forehead and kajal in her eyes. She seems like a goddess at first glance. She was shouting at her son who was wearing a thin white T-shirt, blue jeans, and Black shoes. She was forcing him to buy the gloves and cap so that he won’t be cold and as usual like any other teenager he was acting as if he don’t know her.

Gosh! I remembered my first trip with my friends, my mother gave me a blanket even though she knew that I was going to have a blanket on the bus and at the hotel, but she insisted. Without saying anything I packed it with other essentials because deep down I knew it was her way of saying to be safe and extra careful and don’t you dare catch a cold.

While looking at everyone around me, I was like a river, my heart was racing, and my mind was calm and eager to meet new people. A Moment of peace, and with that thought I started my journey from Delhi to Triund.

I’ll explain the logistics in another article.

I sat on the bus and noted there were very few people who were on my bus. I thought not a very good start ha.. but let’s see what the sunshine will bring the next day. I reached the Mcloedganj at 7 in the morning and started the Triund trek around 11 after having breakfast with a group of 9 people. Everyone with a different background, culture, career, and place. As we all move forward together, we shared who we are, most of them were Teachers, and there were a few athletes who aim to be army officers and a Businessperson.

Ohh!! Shoot. I forgot to mention one important guest who joined us.

Any guesses???

Well! There is one thing about that place and in fact most of the mountains in North India that we always found a four-legged friend who will join us for the ride. And that’s what happened, a dog joined us along the way and made our journey more fun, and without realizing it, he became the center of the group. 

The weather was pleasing.

 Green grass, blue sky, rocky roads, heavy breaths, soothing music, chai stalls, colorful small buds, and a will to reach the top.

That’s how the journey was. It’s like beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I don’t know what was in the air up there, but everything seems peacefully intriguing. As the air was brushing against my cheeks and letting my hair set free. I could hear every thought, notice every moment, and soak it all in.

Why couldn’t we see all these things in our daily lives? As the eyes of the beholder are the same, maybe we are too busy or too tired to lift our heads and see the peace we all are looking for, is right within ourselves.       

From starting point to the base camp, the journey was filled with lots of emotions – We were tired but relentless. There were moments when everyone else around me disappear and it was just me walking uphill. Navigating on my own. Kind of, like Dora.

At that very moment, I didn’t want to have a distraction from the camera, I just wanted to walk and give my brain some rest as it has been sprinting for the past few months. I believe that’s what the trek was all about, teaching us to spend time with ourselves, and helping us to realize that it’s not only about the destination but the journey that teach us. It was a journey that bought 10 people with different backgrounds together. It was a journey where we all helped each other without any expectations.  

With this long ride, I learned to be present and not just show up. After all, this one life can slip away when we are not paying attention.

Anyway, as we continued to leave our footprints along the way and by having a sip of water WE FINALLY REACHED.

The feeling of accomplishment with the cold air brushing against our faces, was a vault heaven. It was a moment where we have our world. We found solace at the surface and floating at the top.

My world, was a girl sitting on top of the hill watching the sunset. It was serene. The colors – Yellow, Orange, mustard, dark brown, kind of black, shades of purple, blue, and white as well, then there it was a teeny tiny star above all. And it’s not all there was a full moon at the opposite end of this. Mesmerizing chaos.

And I realized that’s how poets gave birth to poetry.

They found the beauty in chaos,

Solace in the rain,

 and Silence in the words

 to keep the storm at shores.    

And as the sun went down, we had our dinner and sat around a bonfire under the moonlight creating magical moments. Later., we slept at the top of the hill, having chills but we were happy, peaceful, and unbothered.

                                                                                              To be continued…

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Sokkla Saturday: Jupiter - Growth

Summary: They say that she needs to change but she always seems to do it wrong.

They tell her that she has some growing to do.

They never tell her which direction she is supposed to grow in. 

She always gets it wrong too.

She picks out new hobbies.

But they are the wrong hobbies. 

She picks out new clothing.

But they are the wrong clothes.

Her new hobbies are still to scary.

She paints grim landscapes.

Her self portraits make people uncomfortable. 

They are too bloody and too depressing. 

She tries swordsmanship.

Glassblowing.

Singing.

Apparently all of her art is aggressive in every form.

They tell her that she has some growing to do.

But they never tell her which viewpoints need to evolve.

She never seems to change the right ones.

She forsakes her own values. 

Her need for perfection. 

But then they tell her that she is careless.

Her need for control.

But they tell her that she has grown detached.

She questions everything she has been taught.

That the throne is inherently hers. 

But they tell her that they are concerned for her dwindling self-esteem

That the Fire Nation is superior to the rest.

But they tell her that she has no respect for her people and country.

Apparently everything she believes is sinister or self-deprecating somehow.

They tell her that she has some growing to do. 

But they never tell her how she is supposed to grow.

She always gets it wrong. 

She can’t grow her mind in a way that they like. 

So she grows herself.

Tries to physically manifest that which she can’t achieve emotionally.

She can’t make herself taller authentically.

She puts on shoes with tall heels. 

They tell her that she is doing too much. 

That she needs to be smaller. 

She has a few extra snacks and calls for seconds after dinner.

She thinks that it makes her look more friendly and approachable. 

They tell her that she should take better care of herself. 

That she needs to be smaller. 

Apparently she is missing the point of what they meant by growth. 

But she is running out of ideas. 

They insists that she still has some growing to do.

They never clarify what they mean.

She thought that she was smarter than this. 

Sokka tells her that they don’t even know what they mean. 

That she shouldn’t grow for anyone else’s sake anyhow.

He asks her if she is happy with any of her growth.

She asks him which form of it.

“Any form.” He replies.

“No.” She answers.

“Actually, yes.” She backtracks. 

She enjoys many of her hobbies. 

She talks about them with him for hours.

He confesses that her art did scare him a little. 

But he liked it anyways. 

And it isn’t so scary now that he knows the meaning behind the paintings. 

He asks her if those heels are comfortable.

She informs him that they aren’t.

He tells her that she can take them off. 

She is happy to do so. 

He asks her if she is happy with how she looks. 

She admits that she does but only for the most part. 

He tells her that time has been very kind to her. 

That he sometimes liked to sneak glances at her when she wasn’t looking.

He asks her if she truly ascribes to her new beliefs.

She says that she enjoys pondering over new perspectives. 

And that her philosophical and intellectual interests have lead to some discoveries. 

He says that he is glad that she evolving for the right reasons.

She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that that isn’t entirely true.

He asks her if she is happy with how she has changed. 

She says that she thinks so.

Mostly. 

She doesn’t hate how she has grown. 

He says that this makes him happy because he rather likes the person she is now.

Even if she’s a little confused. 

And kind of a mess. 

He is too. 

He takes her hand in his and she feels like maybe all of this trouble has been worth it.

[happenstobehere]

I wish you would write a fic where...

You write about Seven and her experiences through an autistic lens so well. I'd love to see a fic set post s3/Legacy era with Captain Seven and how she is dealing with things in her general life. And how she could set herself up for success as a captain

Does she stim?

How does she deal with sensory overload?

Are StarFleet supportive now and help with adaptations and accomadations

Has she adapted things herself

What is her support system?

So i guess in summary. Seven thriving and being successful - but still herself.

First of all, my sincerest apologies that this took an insane amount of time to get to.

Second, this serves as an intro to a bigger fic that I will (hopefully) be finishing sometime soon. I make no promises.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this (even though you've probably forgotten about this ask by now).

Seven looked in the mirror, smoothing down her uniform with her hands. Despite having been captain for months now, she still fights the need for perfection. Her uniform should be free of wrinkles and should sit perfectly, the exact same way it does every day. Everything should go according to plan. She scoffed to herself at the thought. This is Starfleet. Her time on Voyager alone has taught her nothing ever goes perfectly here.

Seven checked the clock. Raffi should be here any minute, she mused right as her door chimed. Raffi walked up behind her and kissed Seven’s cheek, leaning on the counter to make sure she didn’t touch her uniform in the process. 

“Good morning, Captain,” Raffi said with a smile. “Good morning, Number One,” Seven replied. This was part of Seven’s routine — greet Raffi in the morning, have breakfast, start the day — but Raffi found it grounding as well. Seven’s routine had become essential for the both of them, and it filled her with calm to think of how wrapped up in each other’s lives they’d become.

“So, breakfast?” Raffi asked. Seven ate the same thing every morning — but where they ate was dependent on a few different factors, including whether Seven felt up to the extra sensory input that eating in the mess hall would cause. 

They’d eaten in Seven’s quarters for the last couple of weeks after Seven had a shutdown following a situation on the bridge. Raffi didn’t mind it; if that’s what Seven needs, then she’s happy to tag along and be there for her however she could. But Seven felt okay enough to try again that morning. 

As they sat down and Seven started to eat her usual breakfast — scrambled eggs and a strawberry nutrition supplement — Raffi noticed a couple of the lights flickering in the corners of her vision. She ate quietly, observing Seven as discreetly as she could manage.

Seven could hear the lights buzzing on a regular day, but the intermittent sound was making her skin crawl. She starts to shake her left hand then stops, taking a deep breath. She was almost finished with her food anyway, if she could just get through the rest of it…

Raffi spoke softly. “Seven. It’s okay if you need to–” she started.

“I know,” Seven said gently. It’s not that she felt she couldn’t stim, but she felt she shouldn’t need to. Logically, she knew there was no shame in it — hell, half the damn crew was neurodivergent in some way — but she still felt embarrassed. 

Raffi tilted her head. “You don’t have to be ashamed, honey. Nobody would even bat an eye.” The silent implication that they’d have to go through Raffi if they had an issue hung in the air as Seven nodded. Sometimes she really hated the way Raffi seemed to be able to read her mind — this was not one of them. She shook her hand out and felt enough relief to finish her breakfast. 

As they walked to the bridge, Seven took Raffi’s hand and softly squeezed it, a silent request for pressure. Raffi held her hand firmly, only letting go when they made it to their respective chairs.

[dailyb-iv]

Week 6- Post 1

Intersectionality is when multiple forms of discrimination overlap to affect an individual. Kimberlé Crenshaw discusses black women as a major intersectionality group in the States. She explains how when a black male is killed, the news are flooded with headlines, but when a black female is killed, most people do not even hear their name. Crenshaw showed me this blindness in society that I have been a part of. I notice gender differences, but Crenshaw brought out that such differences are heightened for a black female, as they experience discrimination of gender and race. A black female falls under dual minorities and suffers to have her voice suppressed. There is a clear cultural hierarchy in society. Crenshaw reveals this blindness regarding black women who have been murdered and forgotten; who have been erased from the public eye. However, this is not an issue that women can resolve alone. Her TED talk should have been full of different genders and ethnicities. To bring change, society needs to integrate our resources. The only way to bring awareness is to get people to speak. Saying their names is the beginning. From names, we can move to conversations, and from that we can start discussions that will form movements and catalyze change.

Women have a key role in society. We are daughters, students, friends, teachers, doctors, artists, mothers, lawyers, and advocates. Even in the 21st century, there are significant gender gaps. When males face challenges, it is catastrophic, but when women forgo hardships, we can’t talk about it, or we are complaining too much. When the rights to our own bodies are dictated by laws, we must remain silent and think beyond ourselves. When we fear walking down the street alone solemnly because of our sex, we shouldn’t complain because we asked for it. No woman has ever asked for fear. Since when is my independence a threat? Why is it okay for women to live in fear, but taboo to speak up? I like the outdoors. I love hiking and trail running. I want to backpack around the world and experience as many cultures and environmental diversities as I can. However, the world is too estranged for me to do any of that on my own. I am a female, petite, small, and physically weak. Yes, I can attempt my hobbies but there’s a risk. I always think twice before exploring outdoors. I’m not concerned about the non-human animals I might cross, for those I just need to stay calm and aware, show them I’m not a threat. There’s a catalog of woman who have gone missing doing what they love. Sometimes, even with someone they taught they could trust. Women are prey to our own species. I love running, but I’d never do it in the dark. Women have to consider many aspects of everyday life that may not pose a threat to the opposite gender. We always have to be a little extra cautious, because there are too many cases of the worst that could happen.

[storyofx]

3:21 pm

My eyes red, voice hoarse, head aching, and a spirit burning with dark thoughts and fantasies of revenge dance around every inch of me.

I take a hit of the blunt…… the same thought ringing in my head….

 It keeps happening……

Every chapter ends the same way. No matter what I do, no matter how I try to change, no matter what path I take.

It always happens the same way.....

Is it my fault? How? Treat people how you want to be treated. Always be kind. Always be respectful. Always think positive and be honorable, karma will reward you…..

Well, that’s fucking bullshit……

I always used to think that saying “nice guys finish last” was so stupid. Like, I don’t expect the world to bow at my feet because I say please and thank you. I don’t expect that just because I hold the door open for someone that they automatically owe me whatever I ask for.

All my life I was taught to always put people before me. “That’s how a man should be”. But as I ponder my life up until this point I cant help but notice that most selfish, the most arrogant, the most………..

{phone rings}

X: hello?

Q: Yoooooo man what’s going on!

X: Nothing much man. Not doing too good but I’m …..

Q:  Hey man keep your head up, I need a favor....

{a few seconds of silence pass}

Q: you there man?

X: ….yeah man what do you need.

Q: I need you to take a ride to the usual spot.

X: look man I’m not feeling it today.

Q: c’mon man you said you’re feeling bad right? Use this trip to clear your head.

X: yeah, clear my head and my gas tank

Q: Cmon ma….

X: No you cmon man. I started taking these “trips” because I needed to make some extra cash. But since I’ve been taking these “trips” you haven’t paid me shit. At this point, I’m paying you to only benefit you. By doing this shit.

Q: Look man, that’s not how this works…

X: so how does this work? I risk everything, make you some quick cash, and then everything’s cool?

Q: bro you’re just having a bad day man…..

And right on cue…..It happens

X: you know what man. I’m done. I’m fucking done. Find someone else to do this shit.

Q: man quit fucking crying; all your doing is complaining when I’m pretty sure whatever you dealing with aint even no big fucking deal. Look man, come over to the crib after you done and we’ll smoke one and cool off.

X: It’s that easy huh?

Q: Yeah Nigga!!! Call me when it’s done.

X: bet that {hangs up phone}.

It’s been the same thing all my life.  I get fucked over some way and when I try to defend myself or show any sign of frustration, everyone tells me that I’m overreacting, that I shouldn’t have anything to be mad over, that I’m basically being a bitch…….

Everyday I replay every situation in my mind. From childhood to where I am now. Was I overreacting? Am I just being a bitch? I’ve seen people give support to someone for the same shit, but whenever it’s me it’s the same thing. “You have nothing to be angry at”, “you grew up with both parents in the suburbs, you aint never seen a problem”, “act like a man”.

I try to rationalize. See if it was truly me whose was in the wrong. Every day I analyze every single situation. No man, I was wronged, someone did something to me that wasn’t fair, that wasn’t right. How come it’s me who’s in the wrong every time?

Be honorable, treat people the way you want to be treated, be a man.

No…..this is bullshit. I’ve lived these teachings. Am I perfect? Absolutely not. But one thing I can say is that I’ve never brought anyone into my bullshit. The shit I’ve done behind closed doors. The shit I’ve done to escape and temporarily fill this void. The alcohol, the women, all of it. After all its my fault I never been taught how to take care of myself mentally. I've never been taught how to set boundaries. I’ve never been taught how to defend myself as a man when I’ve been done wrong. The only thing I’ve been taught is how to be used......

And put others first. Like the “Man” they want me to be.

But you know what……it’s time to learn something new.....

{Picks up phone a makes a call}

Q: Yoooo man! What’s up? You done with that already?

X: Yeah I’m done.

Q: Cool ma…..

X: with you…….with all of you…………..