#it’s so frustrating how being a minor means you have zero control over your life honestly

[phosphor-network]

Hey, I've never used Tumblr before so hopefully this gets to you. I'm fairly sure that I have DID but my Mom doesn't believe I do (probably because I haven't talk to her about traumatic stuff that happened in my life). What do I do? My Mom usually accompanies me in the doctors office so I can't really express my concerns with my doctor. I do not feel safe exposing my age so I'll say that I am under eightteen.

honestly, this is a really tough situation to be in. your best bet may be to ask her to let you do the appointment yourself— or, barring that, to ask her to leave the room so you can talk privately with your doctor. either way, she’ll have to know about it eventually because there’s not much a doctor can do— usually they’ll refer you to a psychiatrist or another kind of specialist.

i had to wait until i was legally 18 to even begin to pursue any kind of medical care for my DID. the unfortunate truth is that minors don’t have a lot of control over their medical care, and it’s highly dependent on both their parents and doctors believing them and wanting to help them. if that becomes the case for you, there’s a very large chance you’re going to have to navigate it alone for a while. there are a lot of resources out there for systems, and i encourage you to learn all that you can first and foremost. i’ve talked a bit about how you can start to research DID here, and i’ve talked about system tips here.

i’m so sorry you’re in this situation, but i really do hope that you’re able to get the help that you need. good luck anon <3

[comedicreliefonlyworkswhenfunny]

I am against the "Americanization" of fandoms.

What this applies to

Holding non American characters (and sometimes even fans) to an American moral standard. This includes

Refusing to take into account that, first things first, America is NOT the target audience, so certain tropes that would or would not pass in the west are different in Japan.

Like seriously, quite a few of the jokes are just not going to pass or hit, because they require background information that is not universal.

Assuming all American experience is standard. (This could mean watering down just how much pressure is placed on Japanese youth irl by saying that sort of thing is universal (while it is, to a degree, Japanese suicide rates are pretty fucking high because of how fast paced and work heavy some of their loads tend to be), and it's really annoying and rude when someone is trying to speak out about how heavy and harsh the standards are placed on them to succeed just for some American whose mom occasionally yells at them to do their homework dropping by to say "it's like that everywhere")

Demonizing (or wubbifying) a character using American morals, including and up to harassing fans over their interpretations or gatekeeping whether or not a character "should" get development (while you shouldn't do that fucking period, it's rude and annoying- this is specifically for the people who use American standards without acknowledging the cultural gap between them and, you know, the fucking target audience) ((Like seriously, saying "It's different in Japan" is not the end all be all excusing someone's actions, but sometimes the author didn't immediately think that maybe (insert vaguely universal thing) was that bad or that heavy of a topic before they put it into their media. If you don't want to see things like that? Pick a different series and stop harassing the fans))

Getting mad at or making fun of Japan's attempts to satirize their own culture. (A good example is Ace Attorney! To most of us, it's just a funny laugh can you imagine if courts were actually like that- guess what? Japan's are! (Not that America's are actually that much better, they just look good on paper))

Making America/American issues the center of your fan spaces

(Usually without sharing or bringing light to the issues that other countries are going through)

Your

Experiences

Are

Not

Univseral!

Seriously, very few things across America, even, are universal. Texas things the hundreds are nothing while Minnesota's like "oh it's only thirty degrees below zero"- so for fucks sake, stop assuming that all other countries work in ways similar to America.

It's good and important to share Ameican issues with your American followers, but guess what? America isn't the only country out there, and it's certainly not the only one going through bullshit. Don't pull shit like "why's no one reblogging this?" or "why should I care about what's happening in (X country)?"

Don't assume everyone lives in America.

Stop assuming everyone lives in America.

America is not and has never been the target audience for anime, and it's certainly not the only country outside of Japan that enjoys it.

Like I said above, sometimes Japan attempts to satirize its own culture. We can't tell what is and isn't meant as satire, because it's not our culture.

Social media activism can be tiring and maybe you don't have the energy to focus on things that are out of your control, but, if someone tells you about the shit they're going through, don't bring American politics up.

For the neurodivergent crowd out there thinking, "But why?" it's because a lot of social media, especially, is very heavily Americanized- sometimes to the point where people assume that everyone is American. Not to mention, it's disheartening. I'm sorry to say, but you're not actually relating to the conversation, you're often diverting the focus away from the topic at hand. Even if you mean well, America is heavily pedestaled and talked about frequently, and people from other countries are tired of America taking precedent over their own issues.

Don't divert non-American issues into American ones. Seriously. It's not your place. Please just support the original issue or move on.

Racist Bullshit

This especially goes for islanders and South Asian characters, as well as poc characters (because, yes, Japan DOES have black people)

Making "funny" racist headcanons. Not fucking cool.

Changing the canon interpretation of an explicit character of color in order to fit racist stereotypes.

Whitewashing or color draining characters. Different artistic skill sets can be hard, yes, but are you seriously going to look at someone and say "I don't feel like accurately portraying you or people that look like you, because it's difficult for me." If someone tries to correct you on your cultural depiction of a character and/or their life style, don't be an ass. (If possible, it would be nice for those that do the corrections to be polite as well, but it does get really frustrating).

Seriously, no offense guys, but, if you want to persue art, you're going to need to learn to depict different body types, skin colors, and/or ethnic features.

On that note, purposefully, willingly, or consistently inaccurately portraying people or characters of color (especially if someone in the fandom has "called you out" or specifically told you that what you're doing comes across as racist and you continue to do it). If you need help or suck at looking things up, there are references for you! Ask your followers if they have tutorials on poc (issue that you're having), whether it be bodily portrayal, facial proportions, or coloring and shading. Art is so much more fun when you can depict a wider variety, and guess what? Before you drew the same skinny, basic, white character over and over, you couldn't even draw that!

Attempting or claiming to DEPECT CULTURAL ACCURACY within a work or meta, while being completely fucking wrong. ESPECIALLY and specifically if someone calls you out, and you refuse to fix, correct, or change anything.

*little side note that the discussion revolving art is a very multilayered conversation, and it has quite a few technical potholes, which I'll bring up again farther into this post.

Fucking history

Stop demonizing or for absolute fucks sake wubbifying Japanese history because UwU Japan ♡0♡ or bringing up shit like "you know they sided with Nazis, right?" It's good to recognize poor past decisions, but literally it's not your country keep your nose out of it. And? A lot of decisions made by countries were not made by their general peoples. Even those that were, often involved heavy propaganda that made them think what they were doing was right.

Seriously, it's not your country, not your history. Unless you have some sort of higher education (but honestly even then a lot of those contain heavy bias), just don't butt in.

^^^ this also goes to all countries that are NOT Japan (specifically when people from non American countries talk about their history while in fandoms and someone wants to Amerisplain to them why "well, actually-"). When we said, "question your sources," we didn't mean "question the people who know better than you, while blindly accepting the (more than likely biased) education you were given in the past."

What this does NOT include:

Fanfiction

FANfiction

FanFICTION

FANFICTION.

Seriously, fanfiction is literally UNPAID WORK from RANDOM FANS- a lot of which who are or have started as kids. ((No, I'm not trying to excuse racist depictions of people just because they're free, please see above where I talk about learning to grow a skill and how it's possible tone bad and get good, on top of the fact that some inaccuracies are not just willful ignorance))

"Looking it up" doesn't work

"Looking it up" almost never works

Please, for fucks sake, you know that most all online search engines are heavily biased, right? Not to mention, not everything is universal across the entirety of Japan. You want to look up how the school system works in Hokkaido? Well it's different from the ones in Osaka!

Most fanfiction is meant to be an idealized version of the world. Homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, ableism, and racism are very prevalent and heavy topics that some fan authors would prefer to avoid. (Keep in mind, this is also used by some people in those minorities often because thinking about how relevant those kinds of things are is to them every day).

A lot of shit that happens in writing is purely because it's an ideal setting. I've seen a few arguments recently about how fan authors portray Japanese schools wrong- listen, I can't tell you how many random school systems I have pulled from my ass purely because (I need them to interact at these points, in these ways). Sometimes the only compliment I can think of is 'I like your shirt' or sometimes I need character A to realize that character B likes the same thing as they do, so I might ignore the fact that most all Japanese schools require uniforms, so that I can put my character in a shirt that will get someone else's attention.

Sometimes it's difficult to find information on different types of systems, and sometimes when you DO know those things, they directly rule out a plot point that needs to happen (like back on the topic of schools (from what I've seen/heard/read- which guess what? Despite being from multiple sources, might still be inaccurate!) Japanese schools don't have mandatory elective classes (outside of like gym and most of them usually learn English or another language- I've seen stuff about art classes? But the information across the board varies.), but, if I need my character to walk in and see someone completely in their element, I'm probably not going to try and gun for accuracy or make up a million and two reasons as to why this (non elective) person would possibly need something from (elective teacher) after school of all things.)

Some experiences ARE universal- or at least overlap American and Japanese norms! Like friends going to fast food places after school doesn't /sound Japanese/ or whatever, but it's not like a horrible inaccuracy to say that your characters ate at McDonald's because they were hungry. Especially when you consider that the Japanese idolization of American "culture" is also a thing.

Also I saw someone complaining about how, in December, a lot of (usually westerners) write Christmas fics! Well, not only are quite a few of those often gift fics, with it being the season if giving and all, but Japanese people do celebrate Christmas! Not as "the birth of Christ," but rather as a popularized holiday about gift giving (also pst: America isn't the only place that celebrates Christmas)

But, on that note, sometimes things like Holidays are "willfully ignorant" of what actually happens (I've made this point several times, but (also this does by no means excuse actual racism)), because, again: plot convenience! Hey what IF they celebrated Halloween by Trick or Treating? What if Easter was a thing and they got to watch their kids or younger siblings crawl around on the ground looking for tiny plastic eggs?

Fanfiction authors can put in hours of work for one or two thousand words- let alone ten thousand words, fifty thousand words, a hundred thousand words. And all of these are free. There is absolutely no (legal) way to make money off of their fanworks, but they spent hours, days, weeks, months- sometimes even years- writing. It is so unnecessary to EXPECT or REQUIRE them to spend even more hours looking up shit that, no offense, almost no one is going to notice. No one is going go care that all of my combini prices are accurate or that I wrote a fic with a Japanese map of a train station that I had to backwards search three times to find an English version that I could read.

Not everyone has the attention span or ability to spend hours of research before writing a single word. Neurodivergent people are literally a thing yall. Instead of producing the perfectly pretty accurate version of Japan that people want to happen, what ACTUALLY happens is that the writer reads and reads and reads and either never finds the information they need or they lose the motivation to write.

^^^ (This does NOT apply to indigenous or native peoples, like Pacific Islanders or tribes that exist in real life. Please make sure that you portray tribal minorities accurately. If you can't find the information you need (assuming that the content of the series is not specifically about a tribe), please just make one up (and for fucks sake, recognize that a lot of what you've been taught about tribal practices, such as shit like human sacrifices or godly worship, is actually just propaganda.)

Not to mention, it often puts a wall in front of readers who would then need to pull up their OWN information (that may or may not be biased) just in order to interact with the fic ((okay, this one has a little bit of arguability when it comes to things like measurements and currency, because Americans don't know what a meter is and no one else knows what a foot is- either way, one of yall is going to have to look up measurements if they want to get a better understanding of the fic)). However, a lot of Americans who do write using 'feet, Fahrenheit, dollars,' also write for their American followers or friends (which really could go both ways).

On a less easily arguable side, most fic readers aren't going to open up a new tab just to search everything that the author has written (re the whole deep topics, not everyone wants to read about those sorts of things, either). Not only are you making it more difficult on the writer, but you're also making it more difficult for the reader who's now wondering why you decided to add in Grandma's Katsudon recipe, and whether or not the details you have added are accurate.

Some series, themselves, ignore Japanese norms! Piercings, hair dye, and incorrectly wearing ones uniform are frowns upon in Japanese schools- sometimes up to inflicting punishment on those students because of it. However, some anime characters still have naturally or dyed blond hair some of them still have piercings or wear their uniforms wrong. Some series aren't set specifically in Japan, but rather in a vague based-off-real-life Japan that's just slightly different (like Haikyuu and all of its different prefectures). Sometimes they're based on real places, but real places that have gone through major changes (like the Hero Academia series with its quirks and shit).

Fandom is not a full time job. Please stop treating it like it is one. Most people in fandoms have to engage in other things like school or work that most definitely take precident over frantically Googling the cultural implications of dying your hair pink in Japan.

Art is also meant to be a creative freedom and is almost always a hobby, so there are a few cracks that tend to spark debate. Like I said, it is still a hobby, something that's meant to be fun (on this note!)

If trying new things and expanding your portfolio is genuinely making you upset, it's okay to take a break from it. You're not going to get it right on the first try and please, please to everyone out there critiquing artists' works, please take this into account before you post things.

I'm sorry to say, but, while it gets frustrating to see the same things done wrong over and over again, some people are genuinely trying. If it matters enough for you to point out, please offer solutions or resources that would possibly help the artist do better (honestly this could be said about a lot of online activism). I get that they should "want" to do better (and maybe they don't and your annoyance towards them is completely justified- again, as I said, if this becomes a repeated offense and they don't listen to or care about the people trying to help them, yeah you can be a bitch if it helps you feel better- just please don't assume that everyone is willfully ignorant of how hurtful/upsetting/annoying a certain way of portraying things is), but also WANTING to do better and ACTUALLY doing better are two different things.

Maybe they didn't realize what they were doing was inaccurate. Maybe they didn't have the right tutorials. Maybe they tried to look it up, but that failed them. Either way, to some- especially neurodivergent artists- just being told that their work is bad or racist or awful isn't going to make them want to search for better resources in order to be more accurate, it's just going to make them give up.

Also! In fic and in writing, no one is going to get it right on the first try. Especially at the stage where we creators ARE merely in fan spaces is a great time to "fuck around and find out", before we bring our willfully or accidentally racist shit into monetized media. Absolutely hold your fan creators to higher standards, but literally fan work has so little actual impact on popular media (and this goes for just about every debate about fan spaces), and constructive criticism as well as routine practice can mean worlds for representation in future media. NOT allowing for mistakes in micro spaces like fandoms is how you get genuinely harmful or just... bad... portrayals of minorities in popularized media that DOES have an impact on the greater public. OR you get a bunch of creators who are too afraid to walk out of their own little bubbles, because what if they get it wrong and everyone turns against them. It's better to just "stick with what they know" (hobbies are something that you are meant to get better at, even if that is a slow road- for all of my writers and artists out there, it does take time, but you will get it. To everyone else, please do speak up about things that are wrong, but don't make it all about what's wrong and please don't be rude. It's frustrating on both ends, so, if you can, please try not to escalate the situation more.)

Anyways, I'm tired of everyone holding fictional characters to American Puritanical standards, but I'm also tired of seeing every "stop Americanizing fandom" somehow loop into fanfiction and how all authors who don't make their fics as accurate as possible are actually just racist and perpetuating or enabling America's take over of the world or some shit.

Fan interpretation of published media is different than fan creation of mon monetized media. Americans dominating or monopolizing spaces meant for all fans (especially in a fandom that was never meant for them to begin with) is annoying and can be harmful sometimes. Americans writing out their own personal experience using random fictional characters (more often than not) isn't.

[leahquark]

How to escape from a time loop

How to escape from a time loop

Prevent the causing event

Alright, so you’re stuck in a time loop. But maybe you know what caused it. Hey, if the causing event keeps happening, it’s obvious. Let’s say at the end of every day, you die. Easy peasy, just don’t die one day and you’ll escape the loop. Easier said than done, sure. Especially if the loop is short, or the event is out of your control (yea, 10 minutes really feels unfair to convince your aunt Sally on the other side of the country not to knock over her Egyptian flower vase). But hey, you get unlimited tries at this. Plus, a time loop means your money and resources reset, so feel free to go nuts and waste them. Just, don’t do anything you might regret if the loop suddenly breaks. Of course, after enough repeats, I doubt there’ll be much left in this category. If the loop happens when you go to sleep, then don’t go to sleep. Heck, chase the sun around the world if you have to. Rage against the dying of the light.

2. 

Make amends for the causing event

Okay, so maybe the event that caused the time loop only happened once. And maybe it happened on the day before the loop, or in the first iteration only. Well then, you can still make amends for it, hit the edit undo. Don’t believe me? The statistical probability that YOU would be the first person stuck in a time loop is so ridiculously close to zero. If you’re in a time loop now, that means others were probably in a time loop too, and maybe got in and got out the same way. And they kinda had to get out, in order for time to progress and trap you in your time loop today. So go track down that evil time witch and apologize to her, or find a scientist who can study the alien blood you’re covered in. Tell them to keep notes, then at the end of the time loop memorize them and regurgitate them back at the start of the next loop. Remember, you’re the only one who can retain information / make progress at the end of each loop. Only you can look out for yourself, but maybe medical science has an answer.

3.

Prevent and make amends for everything that could possibly be the causing event

Okay, so maybe you don’t know why you’re trapped in a time loop. Alright, then try this. Go through a list of everything you did the day before the loop, and during the first iteration of the loop. Focus on things you said, places you went, objects you saw, things you thought about. It’s important to do this before the time loops repeat so many times you forget what happened the first time around. One of those things, something as minor as not hanging out with a friend, could have been the causing factor… at least according to movies and TV. In reality, it’s probably as likely the time loop was caused by a passing black hole, or a scientist at the large hadron collider. But hey, if it’s something not related to your personal life and daily activities, then you’re kinda screwed. So just completely change your daily routine, do things you’d never think to do, break that habit that you do on every iteration of the timeline, and hope that the loop was just some catharsis for your morning coffee addiction. Now is the time to fix any regrets you may have, to make amends, to become a better person. 

4.

Binge watch time related tv

Also read some sci fi. Of course, if you’re reading this, you’re probably on track already, and getting into the more obscure sections. That’s good, a lot of those mainstream sci fi movies are more meant to make you feel good than actually discuss the repercussions of time loops. But hey, you never know, maybe you’ll get some inspiration for something. Heck, a lot of escaping from time loops is getting the right inspiration. So yea, take a break, and binge those bad tv shows. You’ve got all the time in the world to do what you love… assuming you love sci fi television as much as I do. Heck, I won’t judge if you just want to use the time loop to binge all day, enjoy yourself! (You are trapped in a serious science anomaly we don’t fully understand after all) Just, make sure you eventually take a television break if the time loop doesn’t show any sign of fixing. 

5.

Find a guide

Alright, so basic fact of logic, there’s only one person on the planet who knows the absolute most about time loops, and chances are it’s not you. At least, it wasn’t you when you got stuck. For all you know, that person walking down the street next to you knows more than you. Heck, maybe they were trapped in a time loop too. So go ahead and ask. What’s the worst that could happen? No seriously, what’s the worst that could happen? You’re trapped in a time loop, any social awkwardness you display will be forgotten by the next loop. Go up and talk to random people, find that person who knows a ton about sci fi. My DMs are always open, and I’m sure you can find some people in a sci fi discord server. Want a real kicker? Spend one loop learning all you can about a person, just talking to them friendly and nice. Then next time loop start the conversation with an announcement that you’re in a time loop, and prove it by reciting those same facts you learned about the person in the last loop. Get to know someone, make some new friends, or just reach out for help (its so hard to escape alone). 

6.

Convince the government

That trick I mentioned, in point 5… that’ll probably work for the government too. Imagine calling up the president of the United States on his personal cell phone, telling him you’re in a time loop, and backing it up with a whole host of personal facts. What they won’t see, is the hundred or so timelines you spend going from convincing the police, to the FBI, to the governor, to your local senators, etc, etc. At every step of the way, wasting one or two timelines to learn all their personal info, then regurgitating it to them in the third timeline as proof you really are looping. It’s exhausting. All to convince some bureaucrats and some scientists to look into it. Let’s hope they really do have aliens in area 51, or this will be a massive waste of time. But hey, time is something you’ve got too much of anyway. The effort may be exhausting, but you can’t give in, you need some professional backup on your team, and no matter how much you repeat yourself, its worth the effort.

7.

Number those timelines

Alright, so at this point, try anything. But you need a way to stop yourself from trying the same thing twice. And you need a way of prompting the people you are with to stop saying the same old ideas. If you wake up on the same day every morning, and ask the people around you to help you escape a time loop, then they’re going to be repeating a lot of their responses. But in my experience, people reply, think, and remember differently based on the prompts they’re given, and maybe those different prompts will jog your brain, and the brains of the people you’re around, into thinking of something new. One way to do it is get a dictionary, or some other book with a wide variety of words, and each day refer to the next word in the book as that day's prompt. Do something completely random, completely insane, but make sure it started with you and your time loop guides reading and thinking about the prompt. So you’re probably going out to go touch an aardvark then. Come back when you’ve ridden a Zambonni and I’ll know things are really desperate. Point is, keeping trying new things, and enjoy them while you’re at it. 

8.

Keep trying

Alright, it’s not really like you’ve got much of a choice here. Going about your day, or repeating the same day twice, or acting and pretending like you’re not really in a time loop, are all ways of experimenting with something new (though, frankly I think these will just lead to frustration). Heck, maybe instead of acting crazy, what you really needed was to act normal. Maybe it’s a sentient creature keeping you trapped in the loop, and it’ll sense when you’ve given up hope and then release you from the loop. Maybe. Really doubt that though. Technically, it’s impossible to give up. But hang in there. Keep yourself, and your joy. You get to live. You get to experience something no one else has felt. You can learn a hundred new skills, and master them all, and live frivolously every day. You get to meet every person on earth, and study them all in a single day. You are technically immortal. There is nothing you have to do, no responsibilities. There’s nothing new on television to keep you glued to the screen, and no point putting any of your dreams off until tomorrow. You’re trapped in time, but in a way free. Free of consequences except the ones you choose for yourself. So choose to be happy, choose to live. Choose to value this day with your friends and family, even if they won’t value or remember them. Maybe plan one million for escaping the time loop is to go down to a nice sunny beach and just relax. In a strange way, that’s got just as much chance of working as anything else. And it’ll make your eternity here a lot more bearable than moping around your house all depressed like.

9.

Don’t die

I have no idea what the religious implications are of being trapped in a time loop. And the thing with most time loops, at least the ones I’ve seen on tv, is that death doesn’t let you escape the loop. And frankly that’s a good thing, because death is something worse. I’m not going to go into this too much, though if you really are trapped in a time loop I’m sure these few words are tantalizingly short. (If you need more, there are plenty of resources out there) But no time loop has ever been solved by dying. Even if it did resolve, your eternal purgatory would probably end up taking the form of a time loop. But don’t worry, I can give you my personal assurances that you’re alive right now. And that’s good. Because life is a beautiful thing, even when the day repeats. You know, especially then. After all these dark and gritty escape the time loop stories, of tormented characters driven mad because nothing they do matters, can’t we have one where someone is happy to be in a time loop? We all die, eventually that is. Whether you’re trapped in a time loop or not. But not all of us live. Not all of us truly live. Maybe being trapped in a time loop will help you live truly. I mean, if you really think about it, in several thousand years, is anyone even going to remember you? Remember your accomplishments? You may as well have lived for a day. If you want to escape the time loop so what you do matters again, maybe it’s time to face the reality that what you do… may not have mattered. And that’s okay. Life is about the living. Living every day, day by day, and making the most of it. We don’t always get to control the hand that life gives us. Maybe we know someone with Alzheimer's, whose memories fade at the end of each day, and makes it seem like we’re living that moment over and over. Maybe they don’t even remember who you are. Maybe, to them, you’re a stranger, who met them today, and knows so many things about them. Is it happy when someone laughs, if they won’t remember it later? Did it really happen? Yes it did. Yes it is happy. 

10. 

You can’t escape / why did you listen to me, I’ve never been trapped in a time loop

Life is a beautiful thing, time is a beautiful thing. It’s beautiful because it doesn’t loop. I can understand the anger, that bitter rage people can have, trapped and unable to reach out, repeating the same day over and over. Unable to move on. Unable to break free. And sometimes they do break free. Sometimes, silly movies and tv shows, that avoidance of the causing incident, or the help of scientists and their research, are enough to fix even the most terrible of fates. But sometimes they can’t, and we can go on, suffering forever. I’ve never been trapped in a time loop (I thought I was once, in fact, all my friends thought I was too, and they all tried to help me out of it. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t, right?), and if any of the people around me have, they've been hiding it exceptionally well. They’ve worked today, for the hope of relaxing tomorrow. They’ve made progress, with the thought that their accomplishments matter, and their adventures can wait. That’s the mindset a lot of us go through life with. But maybe, just maybe, life can’t wait until tomorrow. Maybe it takes getting trapped in a time loop to realize. When your hard work doesn’t pay off, and you can’t think of what evil thing has landed you where you are, when the universe deals you a bad hand, maybe that’s when you realize what’s important. Waking up, every day, with people you care about, ready to live life for today. Maybe tomorrow won’t come. Maybe it never will. Maybe you have to live, live every moment of your life, today. Or, maybe, just maybe, tomorrow is right around the corner. And when you tell those people around you that you love them, maybe this time they’ll remember. But what the hell do I know? I’ve never been trapped in a time loop. I’m just a person, one of billions on planet Earth, living life. 

[tommysparker]

Good For You

Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: I dunno how I really feel about this one...but there will be a part 2! Inspired by “Good For You” from the musical Dear Evan Hansen, give it a listen and enjoy :)

Warnings: just pure angst, reader is disappointed but not surprised, and also # done

Six times. 

Six times he’s canceled plans last minute. 

And that’s just this month, so far. 

You were happy for him, honestly, you were. But had you known his newfound fame would have cost you hours of waiting, hours of your life that you will never get back, just to end up looking like a fool as you leave the restaurant, you probably would have re-thought some decisions. 

“Hi! This is Peter Parker, leave a--”

You sighed in frustration, tossing your phone and keys on the couch as you kicked off your shoes and shut the door to the apartment. Thankfully, your parents weren’t home so you had time to release some stress and anger. 

Dropping yourself onto the cushions, you grabbed the TV remote and pressed the on-button, hoping some good ol’ fashioned Disney Plus would take your mind off tonight’s events, or lack thereof. However, the television network had other plans. 

Sure enough, there was your boyfriend, dressed head-to-toe in that stupid red and blue spandex costume standing next to the great Tony Stark, who wore a regular suit and that signature smile the public adored. 

Really? He ditched me to hang out with some tech billionaire? Is what you would’ve thought, however, you were used to it at this point. The first few times you felt disappointed, but now all you saw was red. 

You turned off the TV, throwing the remote aside and grabbing your phone, hoping to see at least one message from your once adoring lover, but you were met with an old picture of you and him that you set as your lockscreen. 

With a heavy sigh, you went into your room and decided to catch up on all the homework you’ve been ignoring. What better way to distract yourself than with memorizing calculus formulas? 

The only text you got that night was from your parents telling you they’ll be home late. 

                                                       ---

The next day at school, you completely avoided Peter at all costs. 

Peter was beyond confused. 

He had gotten home late last night after spending hours with Mr. Stark teaching him the new customs of his suit and later going back to the lab to fix some minor bugs. 

When he came into school this morning, he was hoping for the usual bear hug you greet him with when he walked over to your locker. However, by the time he got there you were already gone. Betty, whose locker was right next to yours, said you went to class early to talk to the teacher. 

He shrugged it off, figuring he would catch you in between classes. 

But he never did. 

Every time he tried to talk to you, you would run off or ignore his callings. He thought maybe you were just having an off-day, you’ve been having a lot of those recently. 

By the time lunch came around, he knew something was wrong. 

No matter what mood you were in, you always made sure to sit next to him in the cafeteria, so when you didn’t show up at all, he had a feeling it was more than just an off-day. 

He didn’t see you for the rest of the school day. 

                                                        ---

You were done. Absolutely done. 

You woke up that morning ready to deal with whatever bullshit excuse Peter was gonna throw at you, but as you entered the school something inside you just snapped. 

Maybe it was because one of your friends were talking about the amazing date they had, or maybe it was because you were tired after waiting for Peter to swing by your window and apologize for missing another date then end up passing out on the window sill, but either way, you were done. 

You dodged Peter the whole first half of school, ditching after lunch because you weren’t ‘feeling well’.

The rest of the day you spent curled up on your bed, listening to music that related to whatever emotion you were feeling. 

You glanced over at the clock, seeing school would’ve been out about half an hour ago. Picking up your phone you texted MJ asking if she was down to go out later. You were supposed to be having a movie night with Peter but if he could skip your plans dozens of times, why couldn’t you? 

A ding followed by your phone lighting up took your attention off your laptop. Picking up your phone, you were hoping it was MJ accepting your invitation, and thankfully, the bookworm didn’t fail to please. 

A few hours later, you were almost ready to go out, when a loud knocking sound came from your window. 

Startled, you whipped your head towards the glass, and behind it stood non-other than your boyfriend. 

Did you forget to tell him you canceled? Whoops. 

Rolling your eyes, you opened your window and stepped back so he could come in. You were still upset with him, but that doesn’t mean you were about to make him wait outside when it was near zero degrees. 

“Hey! Sorry I’m late Mr. Stark wanted to test this cool new web settings and we kinda lost track of time but I got your favourite food to make up for it- oh are we going somewhere instead?” Peter tilted his head as he took in your outfit. Normally on movie nights, you’d welcome him wearing a pair of comfy pants and his hoodie. However tonight you were dressed in jeans and a top he hadn’t seen you wear before. When did you go shopping? 

“Yeah-no. It’s just me going, MJ should be on her way right now. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” you shrugged, walking back to the mirror to finish doing your hair. 

“Wait- what do you mean? What’s going on? It’s movie night...” The vigilante expressed, trying his best to mask the disappointed look his face fell into. 

“Guess I’ll have to make it up to you, right? Just like all the times you’ve made it up to me.” You snapped, sarcasm laced with your words. 

Peter could sense something was wrong, your tone and the look in your eyes being a dead giveaway. “What are you talking about, Y/N?” 

“I dunno Parker, why don’t you tell me. Because I have been stood up too many times this month and honestly, I’m sick and tired of your empty promises,” You huffed, turning around to face him with your arms tightly crossed over your chest. 

The brown-haired boy was baffled. “Look if this is about last week, I told you I’m sorry. You know how much being Spiderman means to me--”

“--More than it means being with me?” 

Peter’s facial expression made it seem like the question slapped him in the face. “What? No! Why would you think that?”

“Um for starters, you’re always ditching me to go play superhero with a billionaire. Every time you tell me you’re gonna make it up to me, you never do! Yesterday’s date was supposed to make up for the one you missed last week, and that one was supposed to make up for the one you missed two weeks prior! I’m seeing a pattern Parker and I don’t like it.” 

For some reason, his ears fell deaf to everything you said except for the mention of his alter-ego. “Playing superhero? Really Y/n? I’m saving lives! I’m making a difference here. I have these powers and if I don’t use them, and bad things happen, that’s on me. You have no idea the kind of responsibility I have. Besides, you should be happy for me! I’m better than I’ve ever been before. Don’t you get that?”

You bit your lip, fighting back tears. “Yeah, I guess you're right. Well...I’m sorry I don’t fit into your responsibilities.” 

“What? No that’s not--”

“I’m not done yet! You got what you always wanted, right? Your dream is now a reality, well good for you, Parker. I’m happy for you, really I am. I just wish you would’ve told me that dream didn’t involve me so I didn’t waste my time loving you,” You spat. 

“Wait, Y/N please--!”

“I mean, are you even sorry?” You cut him off again. “‘Cause you say it all the time but you never act like it. The Peter I knew would’ve put everything aside in order to right a wrong, but you, you just worry about yourself.” Yes, that was a low blow, and far from the truth, but in the heat of the moment you could hardly control the words coming out of your mouth. Months of pent up frustration being released kinda broke the filter. 

Peter looked like a kicked puppy, he tried to say something but you kept ranting. 

“When was the last time you hung out with Ned? Or had a real conversation with May? All of us are hurting, Peter. We’re your friends, your family. And all you do is jump the fence over to “Mr. Stark’s” at the blow of his dog whistle. But, hey, if that makes you happy then fucking good for you. I guess if I can’t give you any fancy tech, o-or ‘understand your responsibility’ then go ahead and cut me loose. No, really, I won’t mind--”

“Stop it! Just stop, please!” He had tears running down his face, similar to your own. He took a shaky breath, wiping away the tears roughly before giving you a heart-broken look. 

You stared back, shoulders shaking and eyes red. You sniffled, pointing a shaky arm to the window. “Get out.” It was quiet, a huge contrast to the previous volume of your voice, but suddenly the energy was drained from your body, mentally and emotionally. 

Peter left without a word or hesitation. 

You walked to the window, swaying slightly as you watched him swing off into the distance. 

So you got what you always wanted, live with the consequences. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Again....not ecstatic about this turned out but hoping part 2 turns out better :/

All: @greenorangevioletgrass @allegra-writes @soraitmnt @worldoftom @farfromparker @angel-spidey @parkerpeter24 @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​ @the-panwitch @rebekkah4766 @hollandsamor @spideygirl2003 @theactualprincessofeverything

Peter Parker: @rubberducky-jrr 

[black-streak]

Saturday night's alright for fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - Dangerous Game Indeed

Part 4

Changing gears here for a moment. This part has no fluff. More character building than anything to set up the beginning of the next part, which should go back to being fluffy. Pretty sure I'm going to write their date next, but I felt it important to establish a few things early on. I promise if this gets you confused, the next part will explain what happened here better

~---~

So here's the thing about being a secret hero in a place teeming with vigilantes and villains. 

Being a bright red flash across the horizon doesn't work. 

Not that Marinette wouldn't love to zip across the high rise buildings by her yoyo, but it just wasn't a feasible option unless she wished to announce her presence to every person in the city. Seriously, Tikki, who does she think she is, Robin? One traffic light bright hero was enough.

That's how this… possibly unwise team up came to fruition. 

See, Mari planned to stay within the shadows, outta sight from the many bat people that stalked the rooftops at night, but like hell would she stay idle and complacent while Gotham suffered. So she waited and watched for quite some time before selecting her new miraculouses, eventually settling on the cat and fox combined. After all, chaos, destruction, and deceit work well together.

With her mind made up, she proceeded to plan out the costume and discuss how their powers were likely to combine; what to expect from this merge. The end result was magnificent. The bottomless-pit black bottoms were looser than anything she'd had before, wrapping tight in fabric bands only at the ankles and waist before shifting into a long sleeve shirt, just as free in the arms with the same tight bands at the wrists. The soft fabric draped across her chest, the front coming up to cover the bottom half of her face, the sides and back lifting up into a hood that covered her all the way to the eyes. Her gloves and hidden boots were a soot gray, indistinguishable in the dead of night and only barely of note in the day, with black claw tips and touch sensitive paw pads. Under the hood, her hair took on a more soot gray tone as well, black fluffy ears with gray insides just barely hinting out. A fluffy black tail with gray tip swished behind her. The colors were all Plagg while the design took more to Trixx. Her eyes however went into catlike slits of silver sclera and icy blue irises with what appeared to be black kohl ringing her eyes. Lastly, twin daggers tucked into the seams on her inner arms.

The first thing she discovered upon merging was that she became undetectable. Her movements made no sound nor did her breathing. She blended seamlessly with shadows and the night sky alike. People who looked in her direction would blink and discover it to be a trick of the light or assume it to be a delusion if they even saw her at all. It took concentration to push off the magic and allow others to see past the illusion. But she feared once it was gone, it'd be lost on that person forever. Sure, maybe they wouldn't notice her due to her own skill, but the magic would no longer protect her from them. So she didn't test it out. The next thing she realized was that her transformation didn't have much of a timer to detransform. Having worked with different kwamis for so long had built up a resistance to the strain. 

Secondly, she found their abilities didn't end at cataclysm and mirage. Funny thing about being in control of illusions and deceit; you could spot it in others from a mile away. Making villainous plans easier to tear apart without a charm. 

Plagg's… well Plagg's was different. As it turned out, death is simply an extension of destruction and while she had always known a poorly placed cataclysm could potentially end a life, she never expected this ability to sense death itself. She could feel when a place had seen too much or where it lurked heaviest in her vicinity. 

She could also sense when someone had been brushed with its weighted touch. Which had led to many tragic, heartbroken nights of research to discover why so many of the Waynes were smothered in it. From Jason disappearing for so long and being exposed to Kwami knows what. The potentially abusive upbringing of Damian by his mother who he refused to speak of. Bruce and his parents, murdered before his eyes. Tim losing his own parents and being around to bare witness to the many brushes of his adoptive family. Add on their secondary occupations and what it entailed and well, it was enough to know not to pry.

The first few transformations, she stayed docile, never engaging, silently observing the inner workings of the city. The next few, she branched out, interfering minor crimes with quick distractions and carefully curated traps. The criminals themselves would wake up outside the police station with evidence scattered about them and no memory of how they ended up there. Then a race against the clock would commence while they tried to gather everything thrown about them and run before any officers could take note and capture them. Mari took great pleasure in watching this part, sometimes binding their wrists or feet to add an extra element to their struggle.

The two kwamis truly brought out her more sly, volatile side.

Eventually it led to foiling larger scale villains when Batman seemed to be taking his own sweet time arriving to the scene. By the time he or one of his.. partners? Pupils? Kids? She never knew what he called them in costume... Well to whoever showed up, it would look like the plan collapsed within itself as though a few variables were forgotten or fell out of hand. 

The problem with starting to take action in a place like Gotham though is that no matter how much they can't prove your existence, the bats are bound to take notice. Because if they aren't the ones taking down these people, who is? 

That's how Mari found herself narrowly avoiding encounters on a weekly basis. Sure, no one spotted her yet, but tracking her location through found thugs she'd taken down moments before made for some close calls of almost physically being ran in to. Not sure how convincing of a pipe on a roof she could be if that were to happen. 

Add on her own animalistic instinct to hunt that led to many nights of stalking different vigilantes for hours on end, holding back the urge to pounce and well… it made for a dangerous game of cat and mouse. 

'Or rather, catfox and bird,' she thought, slowly inching along an edge wall of the roof where Red Robin laid in wait. 

Mari couldn't be sure how, but he seemed to have some sixth sense for looming figures. Either that or heaps worth of paranoia. Multiple times she'd had to hold deadly still while he whipped his head in her direction, staring her down. If it hadn't been for the magic whispering across her skin, Marinette was sure he'd have had her pinned within the first night of her stalking. As it stood, Red only stared quietly, eyes roving the area she kept to, only relenting when it seemed nothing would appear. 

Tonight… felt ominous. Marinette knew how dumb it was to purposefully follow Red, even more so while cleaning up the dock she had just vacated, leaving an unconscious scarecrow tied amongst his goons by crates worth of chemicals. Normally she wouldn't tie them up, but instead misconstrue things until it looked like an accident, confused weaker pawns wandering about, trying to collect their bosses only for the bats to find and finish up the job. However, her need to remain an unknown figure lost against the need for entertainment, so she made everything of her interference obvious, but left no trace of herself for Batman to find. 

Now she watched as Red stayed still upon the roof, clean up done and nothing left to do but think. She waited for pacing, frustration, anything. She received silence. 

How boring.

Of course... he knew it was her. 

Robin, Red Robin, and Agent A had all either figured it out or had been informed by herself. It was the rest of the family they kept in the dark, her unwilling to trust them with this yet and the three recognizing it as not their secret to tell.

Doesn't mean Red didn't take every opportunity to try and catch her slipping up.

Marinette could almost hear Plagg goading her to toy with the bird, Trixx right behind telling Mari to trust in the illusion. It would only break where she wanted it to. With that reassurance and no Tikki to reason with, Mari moved forward a touch, still completely hidden, but testing how well he sensed her. 

Immediately, he turned. She froze. Then remembering herself, she carefully focused on the magic about her before cautiously letting a huff of air out her mouth, just loud enough to pick up, but quiet enough to not immediately draw attention to her exact location.

It was enough.

"You're here." 

She met him with only silence for a moment then clicked her claws gently to confirm.

Zeroing in further, he took a step forward.

Sliding to his side, Mari carefully scuffed a boot and watched him follow her.

He seemed to assess the situation before turning back to where she was, allowing her to creep behind him. The tension in his shoulders let on to him knowing her actual location though. 

Of course she chose that moment to channel her inner idiot and play along. Tapping his shoulder in a clear indication of permission to turn around, as that seemed to be what he was waiting for, she hopped back into the shadows. It was obvious he was only showing passiveness to lure her into a sense of security enough to reveal herself. 

She knew this and yet as he turned to face her again, she focused into the magic, peeling it back until she knew her eyes alone glowed out at him from the dark.

She let him meet her eyes for only a half second before taking off, quickly blending into the night once more to the sound of curses from the next building over where Hood had been waiting to step in.

Maybe next time she would stalk Jason and see how he liked being watched.

[cherry3point14]

Stranger Than Fanfiction: Ch 4

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader   Warnings: Like one big boy word. Criminal activity. Word count: 3,185. Chapter Summary: Staying late at work is usually nice and quiet. Usually. A/N: This chapter is so dumb but I love it a lot.

Ao3 if you prefer

Y/N would say that one of the perks of her job was getting out of the office from time to time. Sometimes a case required anything from a simple home interview to speaking to several family members over a number of days. She relished in the peace working away from inboxes and water cooler talk however, every once in a while she could find the same serenity in the uniform walls of her employment building. Today was one of those very days. Today she sat at her desk, alone, long past her colleagues' departure at five pm. The overhead lights were off and Y/N, whose fingers sped over the keyboard urgently, was lit only by the cool glow of her screen. 

“It’s not super peaceful when you won’t shut up.” As much as you fought becoming complacent to the voice in all honesty you were glad to have her back in some small way. You hadn’t heard her for days now, not since you started reading Supernatural. It’s only now that you’d finished, she was back to her usual tricks. Some ridiculous ten-minute lecture about you waking up late for work was your reunion this morning. While it was true that you were very late for work today—two hours to be precise—she didn’t once mention that it was because of your late-night finishing off Swan Song. 

That wasn’t too concerning. The voice ignoring your reading habits was minor in comparison to her being back at all. Her return meant your aneurysm hadn't been temporary and you were closer to one of two things. Solving the mystery of why Maggie Hall’s file was so important, or dying.

Obviously, option number one was preferable.

After an entire day of her, you have fallen completely into accepting that she's not going away anytime soon. For the most part, you have let her harp on like she’s looking for a book deal but now that you’re alone and trying to concentrate, you find yourself responding to her. For your own satisfaction of answering back.

She was feeling productive. Each word she wrote punctuated by the precise click of her fingers on the keyboard. A familiar sense of achievement swelled within her chest as she began to summarise her decision on the claim. Summaries are nothing more than detailed endings, which is why Y/N was particularly excited to be writing this one. More so than any other claim she had finished up before.

An ending was exactly what she was hoping for. The unusual situations she had found herself in over the last few days were too messy for even her to organize. Tangled up like a ball of string after being batted around by a cat. Logically then she was focusing on the only thing that made sense, tie up one loose end and the others would right themselves. Finish this piece of work and maybe she'd live.

How unfortunate then for Y/N that the universe did not look kindly upon her attempts to be orderly. How utterly unlucky that she had not guessed any of the answers correctly. Today was not fated to hold any happy endings for her. Not the closing of file twenty-four zero one, nor the reasonable explanations she had been searching for. 

Your fingers stutter to a stop. What the hell does she mean you weren’t closing this claim? You are ten minutes of proofreading away from pressing submit, you had stayed late to finish. At this point, it would take an act of God himself to stop you. 

That’s when you see a flash of light coming from reception. Flash is vague. A beam of light might be a better description, as in, the kind of beam emitted by a flashlight. Wait, there are two flashlights now. Oh shit. 

Suddenly you taste bile in your throat and your hands are clammy enough to be sticky. The voice said this case would kill you and now you’re sitting here working late, and she’s saying you weren’t going to close it and… and… is it going to happen now? You’d assumed it was something in the file that killed you but you’d also assumed you had more time. Really, truly, this could be it. Imminent death means about to happen, not will happen when it’s convenient for you. This is it, isn’t it? You’re about to be accidentally murdered in an office robbery because you stayed to work late. On that particular file. 

She was not prepared to die. Not while there still wasn’t a grey hair on her head or while she hadn’t been to the Grand Canyon. Y/N had no preparations for the end.

No. Not now. It couldn’t be. 

She had no will, no funeral plans, and no video message to her family about a series of clues leading to a great treasure. And on Wednesday night, early June with spring barely making way for summer was the last possible moment she would ever expect to meet her maker.

You want to hide but it’s impossible. Hiding would require you to have some control over your body. An impossible feat, while you're listening with bated breath to what you assume, is your last paragraph. 

Obviously, Y/N would not be dying tonight.

“Are you joking? How is that obvious?” You whisper into the dark, edging into frustration. Barely enjoying the relief of not dying when your narrator is toying with you. 

She still had a new life to begin. One which began and ended with two men that had left as quickly as she'd met them. Fate has a perverted sense of humor and had chosen to push her forward into the unknown. This is why these important men were breaking into her office at precisely that moment.

The footsteps of the intruders get closer. You don’t have a direct view of reception but you’d seen the flashlights on account of it being dark in here. They sound like they're near reception, maybe twenty seconds from coming in. Once they’re in the main part of the office then all they’d have to do is turn a little to their left and they’d spot you. In the corner hanging out. 

But it’s the guys breaking in? The cosplayers. They’re the wannabe Winchester’s who have turned to robbery to get their kicks? 

You don’t know if it's actually them, not really. Not until they do take those last steps into the room but you hear them before you see them. 

“Remind me why you haven't done some nerd computer thing to get this?”

“I already tried, remember? Their system says it’s still in process so none of the details are on their servers yet. And since we need to find out where the money went…”

“... we need to get the physical file. Got it.” Mystery man number one sighs before he continues, “S’no fun killing a monster if you don’t have to work for it.” 

A monster? It’s almost impressive how much these guys committed to whatever insane game they're playing. Almost being the keyword. These guys were genuinely crazy, and that was coming from someone with an unexplainable voice in her head. 

Y/N finally overcame the initial wave of fear that had hit her when the flashlights had cut through the darkness. She reached up and shut off the monitor on her desk, the last thing that had been lighting her up like a Christmas tree. Her laptop was still running in its dock, she had no intention of losing all her work. She only wanted to lose herself, hide, snuffing out the screen, and rolling her chair backward seemed to do the trick. She felt safer already. Her heartbeat returning to something akin to its normal steady rhythm now that she was cloaked in darkness. As soon as they were distracted she might even be able to risk slinking to the floor and hiding below her desk. It wasn’t a risk she was willing to take right now though, while they were still on high alert having just arrived.

You’re grateful that the voice is playing ball and giving you some useful information. It’s completely new, having so far only heard ominous foreshadowing and cryptic introductions, but it’s nice. Dare you say it, fun. For once in this whole ordeal, you actually feel like you’re in a story while you do exactly what she says. You sneak the smallest smile when you see their large shadows, finally step into the office. This might be where you have some luck on your side. 

“You check out the desks, I’ll go find the filing cabinets.” It’s pretty hard to make out with their backs to you but you’d wager it was the taller shadow that said that. 

The same bigger shadow starts walking towards the back of the office. He doesn’t know he’s heading towards the break room, although he probably thinks he has all night to figure it out. He can have all the time he wants as soon as you’re under your desk. Once you’re properly out of the way you look forward to not interrupting them as a stupid person might. You were perfectly ok with not being a hero.

Of course, she was not accustomed to the cat and mouse game of breaking and entering. Y/N was not used to dark corners and darker rooms. And since she hadn’t used one since the last time her power went out, she seemed to have forgotten how flashlights worked as well.

“What?” you splutter. Faith in the voice shattered in an instant. 

In the next second, you’re blinded by a light in your eyes, you reach up to block it out but as you do his voice booms out. “Sam! We got company.” 

The tall guy comes running and now there are two lights in your face.

“Do you think we could not blind me?” They start lowering their flashlights when the other shoe drops, “wait, Sam? You-you’re using the names too?” It shouldn’t shock you, they’re driving the car and wearing the flannel clearly, they’re adopting the names too. But until now you’d been able to compartmentalize the books you’d read and the men that drove around in a car with the Winchesters fictional license plate. 

Coming face to face with them she feels completely different now. The territory is hers; her office, her desk, her mug with her name on. The problem; this was not her game, it was theirs. Y/N was simply working late whereas they were more adept at the after-hours version of this story. She might think they were delusional but this wasn’t the first crime she had them on the hook for. She could only imagine the hundreds, if not thousands, of other illegal activities they had gotten away with, all to play pretend.

“Nobody was supposed to be here.” The guy pretending to be Sam says to the guy who you can only imagine is pretending to be Dean.

“Well, there she is anyway.” Wannabe Dean huffs, both angry and disappointed at the same time. “But hey, maybe this can speed everything along, no more looking around in the dark at least.”

They’re both very good at talking about you while simultaneously ignoring you. Neither of them even flinch when you get up out of your chair and walk over to the light switch.

The room flooded with light like any room would when a switch is flipped, however, this wasn’t any kitchen light switch. The office is a large space and the fluorescents required to illuminate it are industrial. It’s enough to pain anyone's eyes with how sharply their pupils contract. Unless you are the one pressing the switch in the first place. It was Y/N’s hand flipping the four switches required and so her eyes were closed in preparation. However the mystery men had been seconds from bickering so they jerk their heads as if trying to escape the inescapable, like it's the first time they've ever seen anything so bright. Y/N felt wholly better with the heat on her closed eyelids. Because she knew when she opened them the office would hers again, the control would be hers.

When you dare to look they both whip their heads to you, shocked that you’ve moved. You’ve managed to find an ounce of confidence in the light, or if you believe the voice in your head, a whole gallon. “I don’t know what game you’re playing pretending to be people, first at the house and now this. I didn’t tell anyone about this,” you motion a hand at where they're standing, “clearly that was my mistake. So, uh-just get out of here and I won’t say anything else about it.”

“Sweetheart, we ain’t playing games here and we ain’t leaving.” 

He steps towards you, a finger pointing to the floor to reiterate that he’s staying put. You wrongly assumed this would be as easy as it had been at Mrs. Halls when they'd run so quickly, forgetting that you'd had an audience there. 

“You are if you don’t want me to call down to security. I’m sure the cops would love a case like this—there’s an eyewitness!” 

Y/N would never in a million years be able to describe where the sudden anger that consumed her had come from. She was hardly an agitated person. She could be sad or sarcastic, she’d been known to give a measured but scathing comeback and some would even call her curious. That’s not to say she’d never been angry, she had, but anger was never the first thing she chose to be, or feel. It was always such a demanding emotion. So, then this agitation was almost foreign to her and the way it forced her hand, more so. 

“Maybe we should…” Not Sam starts before he’s interrupted. 

“No Sam. We need that file if we’re going to stop this thing and right now this is our only option.” He points at you now signaling that you are the ‘this’ part of his sentence; their only option. 

In another life, she might have rolled over rather than stare down the barrel of this argument. She might have seen the opportunity to get rid of them by giving them something small, like say confidential information, and done it without question. This was not her old life, nor the old Y/N. This was the new life she hadn’t realized was starting. The funny thing was she hadn’t needed to know. All she’d needed was this man in front of her to force her into a rage and as if by magic, she had begun to transform.

You push past fake Dean to make your way back to your desk, “that’s not happening. All client information is property of First National which means it isn’t mine to give. Not to mention the fact that you didn’t say please.”

Her shoulder connects with his and it's the exact moment she realizes how close he was standing to her. He realizes the same. He’s close enough to grab her and spin her around but Y/N's body shudders tellingly with his fingers pressing into the flesh of her forearm.

“I don’t know what kind of power trip you think you're on but..." He grits through his teeth still holding you.

“Dean, can you calm down?” 

The breaking point of your anger turns into a sardonic laugh aimed at him. “You too?” You pull your arm away and get back to your chair. “I can’t get normal criminals breaking in while I’m working late? It has to be two weirdos running around pretending to be the Winchesters.”

It’s clear immediately that you’ve said something neither of them was expecting. You’re sitting at your desk waiting for one of them to stop you from picking up the phone, while they don’t seem to even notice your hand is on the receiver. 

“How do you know that? I mean, how do you know about us?” The tall guy that you refuse to call Sam, even in your head, asks. 

Two pairs of eyes bore into you waiting for an answer and for some reason your hand goes lax on the phone. “I ran your plate from outside Mrs. Halls because you don’t work with me. And I found these books but I mean, why are you even driving around with fake plates from some books anyway?”

It was a simple question that you were hoping had a simple answer, you know, fanboys or something. Instead of any answer at all, they start having one of those lovely conversations that excludes your existence, again. 

“Goddamn son of a bitch, we’ve got to get rid of those things.” 

“Charlie said there’s no point now they’re online. How would we even start? Great example right here.” 

“So what? We just roll over and die?” 

Tall guy, not Sam, takes a reassuring step to fake Dean which means he takes a step away from you and your desk. “This might be a good thing ok, if she knows she can help us track it.” 

You refuse to believe it because it’s ridiculous. Those books are works of fiction and there’s no possible way they are real. Because if the books are true then that means monsters are… nope. You live alone so there’s definitely no way. But you should clarify. Even if it’s a thousand percent the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard, you should still double-check. 

“Are you trying to say that you’re actually Sam and Dean? Like, you think you’re Sam and Dean from the books?” 

It’s scarily-similar-to-the-description-of-Dean who leans in with both hands flat on your desk and growls. “Honey, we don’t think okay, we are them. I’m Dean and this is Sam, and those books you decided to read? Yeah, they’re about us.” 

“But that means monsters are…” 

“Real. Monsters, angels, and everything between.” 

She may not have known about the ticking clock already counting down the remaining seconds of her young life. She may mistakenly have thought that her newfound temper was the reason for her flushed cheeks. She did know one thing for sure. One completely life-changing fact with absolute certainty, because that fact was staring at her with more intensity than she'd ever known. A man named Dean Winchester just told her that every terrifying monster she could imagine was real. 

The voice in your head, unfortunately, had not been wrong yet.

Continue to Chapter 5.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23   Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278​ @bloodydaydreamer StrangerThanFiction tags: @jaylarkson

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: Part Eleven is finally up. Again, I deeply apologize for the wait. I had a good reason, I promise. For now, though? Here we go... As always, feedback is incredible. If you want tagged, please send an ask or message so I am sure to see it. Same goes if I missed your tag. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Mostly Smut. Rushed, bathroom/public sex. A little reference to the movie Focus. Some feelings. Not enough editing. That’s all, I believe.

Word Count: Roughly 3,100

“Dance with me?” You looked up to a little old man. Even though his dark skin was wrinkled and worn, his eyes vibrated with life.

Alice and Bane were having a get together at their place. Something normies got to indulge in. You had gone to help set up. A simple enough task. However, before you could dip out? The guests had begun to arrive, and Alice had insisted you stay. You hadn't even known she knew that many people not involved in the life.

“Sure,” You got up to your feet slowly. Completely out of your element.

“Anyone ever teach you how to salsa?”

“No,” You answered honestly. More than a little weary.“You willin' to teach me?”

“I'd be honored.” His face lit up, making him look ten years younger.

Sam watched as your hand landed on the elderly man's shoulder, and the other on the crook of his elbow as his hands settled on your body. What is she doing? A few minutes later, he couldn't help the smile on his face as he peeked back up.

You were stumbling a little, moving to the beat of the music with a large smile as you worked with the man. A simple, peach colored skirt swung around your legs as you stepped where instructed. The white tank top would have been immodest if you hadn't paired it with a cream colored cardigan. Showing almost more than it covered.

The guy had been sitting by himself for the longest time, until he'd sought you out. Nothing but darkness coating his wrinkled face. Now? He looked as if you'd given him the most precious thing in the world. Helping him find his youth in the small crowd.

Over the past week, a careful distance had been kept between you and Sam. You kept looking at him as if you wanted to try and repair the damage, but never found the courage to make the first move. His pride was still stinging. However, it didn't keep him from being aware of you. Only, this time, it was more than just your body.

He'd zeroed in on everything he'd missed before. The way you chewed your lip when you concentrated. How although you had a mix of modern and classic literature, the classics came off the shelf most often. You didn't have a favorite musical genre. Instead, you listened to whatever suited your mood. A glow spread across your face whenever you saw Ava smile a gummy little grin up at you. More often than not, if you were out? You'd gone down a path that led to a smaller pond to take in the nature. How restless you seemed to be since you'd gotten out on the road again. The way you turned away from your own gloom to entertain an elderly man you'd never met...

“You're still thinking about her.” Cas's voice made Sam jerk lightly as he turned to the angel. “Sorry,” His gruff apology wasn't quite enough to take away the frown on the hunter's face, “didn't mean to startle you. Or listen in.” The last bit was added in as an afterthought.

“You can't help it,” Sam grumbled, turning his head back to the scene in front of him. Then the words sunk in. “What do you mean by 'still'?”

“Almost every time I'm by you? I pick up something about her.” Castiel shrugged lightly. Simply speaking matter of factly. “It's fascinating, really... how many different thoughts there are regarding one person.” That made Sam pause, and turn back to watch you trip over your own feet. Laughing all the while. “I was human for a short time, Sam... It allowed me a bit of insight,” The angel smiled a bit at how foolish you were on the floor. Missing some of the roughness both boys carried. “But, I never got to experience something as...” He paused for the right word, “intense as what you're experiencing.” Sam's hands shoved into his pockets. Despising the truth in the words. “I'm almost jealous.”

“Feel free to take her off of my hands.” Sam suggested readily. Wishing he could escape the flood.

“You don't mean that.” He wasn't as sure as Cas seemed to be over that claim. “Is she leaving with you two?”

“Dean wants to bring her.” Sam shrugged out. Trying to act indifferent. “Hasn't asked her, though.”

“If it helps, Sam,” Cas turned back to his friend. Blue eyes boring into the hazel. Making sure the earnest words sank home. “You're not the only one struggling.” His lips pulled up lightly, “She's thinking about you, too...”

–

Hands came out from the bathroom, yanking you towards a looming figure. Your fist came out instinctively, connecting with the perpetrator before you had processed that you knew those hands. As it clicked, you meekly looked up.

Only to find Sam's wry, pained grin aimed at you,“You have a heck of a swing.”

“You had that coming.” You shrugged, turning to see if anyone had seen you get snatched. When you were sure it was clear, you pushed Sam further in and shut the door. Ensuring that you wouldn't be found with the enemy. “What are you doing?”

“Take a guess,” His eyes trailed over your body. The golden brown in them shined through that day. Full of heat. That look alone had you squeezing your thighs together. The necklace from before was hidden in the swells of your breasts, making his gaze linger there. His nostrils flared lightly as he took in the exposed skin. “I've been dying to know what you have on the end of that chain.” Your hands came up to play with it in response. Unintentionally rising to the bait.

“I figured you were still mad over the word vomiting incident.” You stated, moving over to  the counter to sit. Noting the way he turned with you. Leaving no room between your bodies. He wasn't even trying and you were almost ready to rip your clothes off. “You haven't pulled any sick tricks, lately. Just ignored me.” You sat looking at him patiently. Waiting for an explanation.

At one time, you might have been relieved by his behavior. But, not anymore. The dynamic had shifted enough that the distance bothered you.

“Well,” He moved over to you, letting his hands settle on your knees, “there's two options in a situation like this.”

“I wasn't aware this is something you had experience in.” The teasing in your tone couldn't be denied. You leaned back, supporting your upper body on your hands. Making it easier to look him in the eyes.

“Oh, I don't... The internet, though? It has answers to everything.” He replied seriously. As if he hadn't pulled the answer from thin air.

“The more you know.” Sam tried to keep his face straight, but he broke at your tone as you played along. A small laugh revealed his dimples. The sight enough to melt away the rest of your worries. There'd been guilt, before. For all his rough edges, you hadn't intended on injuring his ego. “So, what are the options? Since you're clearly educated on the subject.” Your lips had turned up at the sound of his chuckle.

“Well, there's the easy one.” His hand started drifting higher. Thumb grazing along the bottom of your inner thigh- just under the hem of your skirt. “We let that be the end, and go onto other partners. Pretend it never happened.”

“And the second?” Your breath hitched lightly as his fingers tightened on the soft skin he'd found.

“We don't stop.” His other hand reached around your back, pulling your body closer to him. Stretching you out more along the counter as he settled in between your legs. His lips dipped down dangerously close to yours. “Keep going til we figure out just what you think is missing...”

“What's your vote?” You asked, bringing your hand between your bodies. Toying with his shirt. Chewing on your lip as you waited for a response. You didn't even care in that moment that your uncertainty had become his challenge to conquer. His hands moved up to your face. Cradling you as he kissed you hungrily. Not bothering to use words. You pulled away from his lips just long enough for one, husky word: “Agreed.”  

His mouth was back on yours in record time. Then trailing down your neck to the tops of your breasts. Kissing. Licking. Sucking. The occasionally bite mixed in. All marks were gone almost as soon as they appeared. But, you were past the point of caring. It felt too right to consider the consequences.

Your hands pulled open his red and blue plaid shirt. Desperate to get down to skin. Rounded nails scratched against the firm flesh. He tugged off your cardigan as his tongue tangled with yours. Nearly ripping the material in his haste. The two of you moved as if it had been years instead of days without touching.

“Please tell me that you're ready.” The husky tilt paired with his lack of breath went straight to your crotch. You just sent him a seductive smile while yanking open his belt. “Thank God.”

The soft material of your skirt was hiked with ease. Sam didn't slow down. Didn't wait for you to lift your hips. Instead, his fingers tore at the fragile lines of your panties. Making quick work of them.

Your own fingers were busy. Yanking at his button. Ripping his zipper down. Before his pants hit the ground, common sense prevailed.

“Condom?” There was no way you were giving up any method of birth control. Sex god, or not.

“Check my wallet.” Nothing. “Damn it.” He growled out, taking it from you to check himself before tossing it to the side. Another heavy, sexually frustrated curse leaving his lips. “Give me a second.” He started searching the medicine cabinet and drawers like a man possessed.

“Oh, this is so wrong,” You huffed out. Leaving all morals aside to hunt down a form of birth control in your friend's home. No luck. “Shit.” You were aroused. More than a little annoyed. A deadly combination to be sure. “Wait!”

“You are not leaving me here like this.” Sam ground out, seeing the wheels turn in your head.

“I'll be back in two seconds.” You promised. Crossing your fingers over your heart symbolically before adjusting your clothing back into semi-decent shape.

“Y/N-” You stopped him by pulling his head down to yours. Kissing the protest right out of him.

“I have more clothing on.” You managed to get out against his mouth. “I get caught? Less of a big deal.”

“Fine.” He said after a second of frustrated silence. Knowing it was that, or a longer wait. “You leave me like this, and I swear...” He trailed off, letting all kinds of disastrous images line your mind.

“While that sounds fun,” Your inner minx couldn't be contained. Cupping his erection in your hand, you continued. “I have much more...pressing issues.” Your thumb stroked over the bulge, making him practically hiss. A quick peck against his lip, and you were gone.

Sam's hand rubbed over his face as he waited. Awkward, now that he was on his own. Wondering if you really would be mischievous enough to ditch him- he knew you could be. Or if you needed him just as badly as he seemed to need you.

It had built throughout the day. Castiel's words only encouraging him further. Goading him until he'd planned on doing something about you that night.

Then, you'd walked by. Innocent fun was the only plan when he'd pulled you into the bathroom. Then, hormones ruled the moment he had you alone. A little foreplay to warm you up. Something that would make the night that much sweeter. That idea lasted until he'd touched you. Fucking the entire plan up.

He sat leaning against the counter with his shirt open. His belt and pants still undone, and a hard on for the ages pressed out angrily. A pair of destroyed peach, lace panties rested by his feet. His wallet was over on the other side of the room. If anyone else stumbled across him, he'd have a hell of a time explaining it. Luckily, you spared the Winchester.

“Got it,” Locking the door was first priority. Something that hadn't been thought of before.

“Where the hell-”

“Your brother is an easy target.” You pulled the wallet out of your top. Knowing right where the protection was stored. “Now...shut up and make use of this.” Dean's wallet was tossed over by Sam's. No longer worth your attention.

It took two steps for him to reach your side, and slam you into the door. His lips sealing over yours again. As the kiss deepened, his hands gripped your thighs. Silently demanding you jump. He didn't hesitate, pulling you up to his waist when you gave him what he needed.

You held on as he carried you. Not breaking contact with his mouth as he moved you back to the counter. Knocking over several toiletries in the process when he tossed you back onto the counter.

It was impossible to keep your hands off Sam. Your fingers got in the way, trying to help him lose the pants. Rolling the condom into a place.

A small squeeze of his erection led to a growl from the man above you. An answering bite to your lip drew a breathy moan from your lips as he moved your hands away. Your skirt was pushed back up. Fingers just barely ghosted over the wet folds as he lined up.

Sam's mouth swallowed your cry when he filled you with a snap of his hips. Your hands tangled themselves into his shirt and onto the base of his neck. Ankles locked around his back, digging your heels into his ass to help set the pace. Hard and fast.

Pulling away your lips, you turned them to his throat. Tasting his skin as he had yours earlier to draw a groan from him. Letting that muffle the sounds he was forcing from your throat.

His teeth held his lip as he moved, rolling his body into yours. Keeping himself as silent as possible. Not wanting to be caught anymore than you did. Wanting the moment to last.

You had no idea how long you two were locked together. Grasping. Thrusting. Whimpering at the rush. Every push and pull sending you closer to oblivion.

As you got close, your head fell back away from the taste of his damp flesh. Your teeth dug into your lower lip harshly, but it wasn't enough. Skin slapped harshly together, echoing through the small room. Then you heard it: voices.

Sam paused. Bringing his hand to your mouth, he covered it gently. Gauging your reaction to his action, as the sounds of your bodies meeting didn't lessen. You didn't complain, letting him protect the both of you two. Instead, you nodded your consent.

Neither of you stopped the push and pull you'd started. Not even when the voices were right outside. Rocking into each other all the while. Eyes locked, you held each other through it. Whoever it was didn't stay long.

You ground yourself against him as soon as they were gone, wanting him to speed back up. To send you over the edge. Needing it.

Luckily, Sam understood. Wanting the same thing, himself. His head buried into your shoulder. Bracing his free hand on the counter, he slammed into you. The once covered whimpers turned to cries as you clung to him. Your body clenched tight as you came, encouraging him to follow you. Thighs trembling all the while.

With every thrust, his rhythm grew more sloppy. Fighting to refrain. But, it was all too much. Sam's teeth sunk into your shoulder to keep his own shout from being heard when he came.

Breathing heavy, you pulled apart as soon as you were able. Almost shyly cleaning up and getting your clothes situated as best as you could. You helped fix his hair while he wiped off the smudged liner under your eyes.

Not much was said. Especially regarding the 'missing piece' that seemed to be standing like a brick wall between you two. That is, until Sam picked up the wallets.

“How'd you get this, anyway?” Dean's leather was waved as he looked at you.

“He was grabbing a beer, and talking to Bane in the kitchen.” You shrugged, slipping on your cardigan. “I walked past, grabbed it out of his back pocket, shoved it in my bra, and got up here.”

“Without him noticing?” Sam didn't buy it. Dean was too good of a hunter to have missed that trick.

“There's a skill to it. You just touch directly while grabbing what you want.” It seemed too easy. “For example,” You touched his bicep while looking at your hand, and his eyes followed. “I touch you here.”

“Okay...” He trailed off in confusion.

“And, I pick this up.” You wagged the wallet that had been in his back pocket in his face. “Easy. Even if the other person hunts? Their attention is diverted.”

“You're nothing but trouble, aren't you?” He grinned, pulling the leather from your grasp. Shoving it into his pocket for the second time.

“All I had to do is tap his arm from behind. Say excuse me. Done.” You unlocked the door. “Take your time, will ya? I'm going to schmooze. Play innocent.” As you walked out, you stopped and looked back at the younger Winchester. Eyes still full of fire, “Oh, and Sam...My door won't be locked, tonight...” You winked when his nostrils flared in response before leaving him alone to over think.

When he finally walked out, he was sure you two had gotten away with it. Another item kicked off of his bucket list. As far as he was concerned, he could die happy.

“How long?” Dean's voice made Sam turn around quickly, towards the other end of the hallway. His brother leaned against the wall. Shadowed, still. Maybe I spoke to soon...

“What?” He tried playing innocent. Shouldn't have bothered. It only made the older Winchester's glower deepen.

“How long have you and Y/N been sneaking around?” Well, shit...

Part Twelve

Tag: @burningmusicmachine​ @missmarrinette​ @sherlockedtash88​ @rathersuspiciousbumblebee​ @sasbb23​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @baby-bunker-pie​ @neii3n​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @malfoysqueen14 @calaofnoldor @hhiggs

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @supernaturalginger​

[hymn2000]

Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only The Piano Player - MCU AU Fanfic - C18

(Previously Ideal Confusion)

Story summary: Giving into the constant pressure from the press, Tony decides to put a rest to the rumours that Peter is his biological son - once and for all.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, family conflict, adoption, DNA test(s), pressure, peer pressure, social issues, mentions of alcoholism, mental health problems, potentially some minor medical inaccuracies, corporal punishment, hurt/comfort

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 18 - So Much To Prove

-

Peter stirred uncomfortably, whimpering as he woke up. It was dark - too dark. He’d fallen asleep so quickly that he hadn’t even turned the night light on. He whimpered again, tears pricking his eyes, and became aware of someone’s arms round him.

“Shh, it’s ok, I’ve got you”

Peter relaxed, somewhere between asleep and awake, pressing a hand against whoever was holding him, reassuring himself. He shifted slightly and slowly drifted back to sleep.

-

“Did I have a nightmare last night?” Peter asked Loki at breakfast.

“Surely you should know the answer to that one?” Loki said, putting his mug down.

“Well, I don’t always remember, especially when someone’s with me like you were”

Loki paused, quirking an eyebrow. “I didn’t go to you in the night, chick”

“Oh” Peter sat back, confused. “But then who..? Um...”

“Finish your toast. You don’t want to be late for school”

“I don’t know if I’m up to it”

“You are” he nodded at the door. “Blazer’s there when you need it”

-

Peter swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away from the car window.

“Did you and daddy talk last night?” 

“That’s none of your business” Tony said abruptly. “Don’t be so nosey”

‘A definite yes’, Peter thought. He looked at Tony, trying to figure him out. He was rubbish at hiding things, but he also neglected to talk about things that were most important, so sometimes the full effect got lost. 

“What are you staring at? You’re putting me off”

Peter shrugged and looked away. They were quiet until Tony parked up in front of the school.

“Try to have a normal day today, kid” Tony said. 

“What happened yesterday wasn’t my fault”

“I never said it was. Just don’t have a repeat, alright?”

Peter pouted at him. 

“Just be good, kid. Now go: you’re gonna be late”

“You’ve changed your tune”

Tony smacked his thigh, hard.

“OW! Dad!”

“Don’t be so cheeky. Now sling your hook”

Peter didn’t need to be asked twice. He grabbed his bag and stepped out of the car, all but slamming the door behind him. He didn’t have high hopes for the day ahead.

-

Malaki was on everyone’s minds and lips. There were a lot of rumours, and some of them were pretty worrying. Unfortunately, some of them were true, but, having not heard anything more from Malaki since the day before, Peter wasn’t sure about all of them. He didn’t really want to think about it.

Not that he had much choice in the matter. 

There were too many reminders. Almost everyone in the form had seen what had happened, and there were a lot of pale faces in the discussions. Peter turned round when the bell rang, looking at the conspicuously clean patch on the carpet, at Malaki’s empty seat - and Nigel’s too.

Flo rested a hand on Peter’s to get his attention.

“I think he’s gone and told the truth” she whispered. “I’m not entirely sure, though”

The door opened, making her jump, but it was just Ms Hathersage.

“Settle down, now!” she barked. “Well, well, well! It’s nice to see you all in one piece! Just about. How’s your head, Stark?”

Peter didn’t respond. He’d almost forgotten about his own injury. He probably would have done altogether if Loki hadn’t changed the dressing when he’d woken up. It seemed so insignificant, especially with Malaki in hospital.

-

Mr James’ practice room seemed like a refuge from the heavy stresses and talks of the morning.

“How’s your head?”

Peter shrugged.

“Yeah, I thought as much. Any news on your friend?”

Peter threw his bag down and plonked himself down at the piano, ignoring him. Mr James understood.

“Well, I’ve got some marking to do, so I’m taking this corner” he said, slinging his briefcase onto the little table. “It’s easier to focus in here. Less people knocking on the door, you see”

Peter nodded slightly, not really listening. He flexed his hands and tapped a few keys, not sure what to play. His head was all over the place: Malaki, Loki’s house search, leaving school, being Tony Stark’s biological son... He hadn’t even got his head around the first problem, let alone those that had followed. He didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to do about any of them. He didn’t really know how he felt about any of them either.

Well, he was worried about Malaki. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him. What if it was serious and he had long-lasting problems? He didn’t even know how he was now. He wasn’t sure it was his place to text and try to find out. Malaki’s phone could be dead, for a start, or he might be indisposed. There was nothing he could do, anyway.

Leaving school was just a fact of life now. He hadn’t had much time to, but if he really thought about it, he wasn’t really sure he wanted to leave anymore. He didn’t have any control over that either.

Loki’s house search was more confusing. Peter still wasn’t sure why Loki had lied and said he’d been asked to go back. Sure, they kept in touch, but why not tell Tony the truth? As much as he’d enjoyed his sabbatical, Peter wasn’t convinced he’d actually leave. But, Loki was nothing if not unpredictable. Besides, he’d heard his outburst about his time in hospital. Maybe the stress of that memory and not being able to talk about it was getting too much for him. If it was, maybe Scotland really did beckon. 

Some, everything was piling up, but those bloody DNA test results still felt like the biggest problem. Peter hadn’t had the television or radio on, or even checked his phone properly since the press release, but he could imagine all too well what was going off. He was still surprised no one had cornered him at the hospital about it.  It wasn’t the press that bothered him, though. Not really. What got to him, was the massive uncertainty that came with learning that the past you thought you knew was nothing but a fabrication. Plus, there was the whole issue of Tony seeming furious at the results one minute, and acting like they’d never had them the next. AND, on top of that, Tony and Loki were at odds, and Tony seemed to have started smacking again. Peter hoped what happened just before Loki rang Marco was an isolated incident, but he couldn’t be sure. His leg had throbbed for a good ten minutes after he’d been struck in the car that morning. He didn’t like the feeling that Tony might be taking his frustrations out on him. Sure, Loki had mentioned he was seeing someone to work through his problems, but he couldn’t be sure. Tony wasn’t great at the whole opening up thing.

-

“That was energetic”

Peter looked round at Mr James.

“Energetic. But sad” Mr James said. “It was good. You’ve always been good at the classics”

Peter turned back to the piano. He’d just played from the list on the wall, half-hearted but heavy-handed. Still, even then, he felt better for it.

“Did you do any playing last night?”

Peter shook his head.

“Can’t say I’m surprised. Tired?”

Peter shrugged.

“You’re quiet today” Mr James came over and stood beside him. “What’s burning in there today? We can have a little chat, if you like?”

Peter froze, reassured himself that it was only his parents who always used ‘chat’ to mean he was in trouble, and breathed out. He shook his head slightly.

“Well, I’m in the corner if you change your mind” Mr James said, squeezing his shoulder and returning to his table.

Peter was quiet a moment longer, before resting his hands on the keys and starting to play. Calm and light at first, and then a few heavy notes mixed in. He got into the rhythm, and soon started humming along under his breath. He felt safe in the funny little room, piano at his mercy, Mr James quiet in the corner.

He grew immersed in the music, his humming become more pronounced, a type of mumble of almost-words. And...

“-Caesar's had your troubles, widows had to cry. While mercenaries in cloisters si--ng; And the king must diiiiieee”

God, it felt so good to sing without worrying what people might think.

“Some men are better slaying sailors. Take my word and go.. But tell the ostler that his name was; the very first they chose”

Somehow, he was thinking of other things as he played. Mainly about school, and about what people might think if they overheard this. Oddly... well, he didn’t care. ‘Let them hear’ he thought, hammering out the final notes. He paused a moment, catching his breath, still on the same train of thought.

;Well’ he thought. ‘If anyone’s listening, I’ll give them something to listen to’

“You can never know what it's like.. Your blood, like winter, freezes just like ice.. And there's a cold and lonely light that shines from you.. You will wind up like the wreck you hide, behind that mask you use”

He played it heavy, a little slower, much more Rocketman than Too Low For Zero. Mr James looked up from his papers, watching closely. 

“And did you think this fool could never win? Well look at me, I'm-a coming back again.. Got a taste of love, in a simple way, and if you need to know while I'm still standin’ you just fade a-way..”

Mr James stood up, carefully, slowly, not wanting to interrupt. Not yet.

“Don't you know? I'm still standing better than I ever did! Lookin’ like a true survivor -  feelin’ like a little kid. I'm still standin’ after all this time.. Picking up the pieces of my life, without you on my mind..”

Mr James put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and he stopped abruptly. He swallowed, hands still on the keys, and slowly looked up at him, biting the inside of his lip.

“How do you feel about breaking the rules?”

-

Breaking the rules though it was, it felt right with it being a teachers idea. However, that didn’t help at the end of the day. At first, he still felt brilliant - incredible, energised, on cloud nine - but then the butterflies were replaced with moths, fluttering replaced with thudding, and he felt sick with nerves.

It wasn’t like Tony was going to find out, and, honestly, it wasn’t as though he’d really done anything wrong - but his father was so unpredictable right now that anything seemed to be a possibility.

“Not a bad lot of work for a Wednesday afternoon” Mr James said. “See you tomorrow, Master Parker-Stark”

“Thanks, s-sir”

“No problem. Well, you’d better be going. Bye now!”

Peter went out to the carpark, praying that it would be Loki, or even Happy, waiting for him.

No such luck.

“You took your time” Tony grumbled as Peter climbed into the car.

“Mr James’ lesson ran over” Peter said, not untruthfully.

“Mm” Tony said, obviously not listening. “Your father wants to have a word when we get back”

“Oh... About Scotland?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous!”

“I’m not!” Peter scowled. “Well, what is it about, then?”

“You and me. And... this” he gestured between the two of them. “I think”

“What could he know that we don’t? We’ve got the results, and you don’t remember my mother”

“We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

There was a short silence. 

“...Dad?

Tony sighed irritably. “What?”

“Do you regret getting us tested?”

“Just put your headphones in, kid”

“But-”

“But nothing! Put your bloody headphones in or I’ll smack you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week, understand?!”

He could have been bluffing - but Peter didn’t want to take that risk.

-

Loki sat Tony and Peter down at the kitchen table, much to Tony’s annoyance.

“Is this going to take long?”

“It takes as long as it takes!” Loki snapped.

There was a pause. Peter looked down at his hands. Loki sighed, and placed a brown A4 envelope down on the table.

“I don’t want you to get angry at me because of this. I didn’t really register at the time, and I’d honestly forgotten until I saw it today”

“What is it?” Tony asked.

Loki pushed the envelope towards Peter. “I think you should do this”

Peter hesitated. He didn’t like the feeling of them watching him, but he took the envelope nonetheless. It was thin, obviously not much to it. He slipped the piece of paper out of the envelope, turning it over and looking at it, reading it over. It all seemed pretty normal - aside from one thing.

“The birth certificate? I forgot you’d requested that. What’s the big deal?”

“Hand it to your father, Peter”

“Loki, I know what a birth certificate looks like. I don’t think-”

“Just read it, Tony”

Tony humoured him, taking the certificate from Peter. He glanced it over, and then stopped. His expression changed and there was silence as he set it down in the middle of the table. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking pained.

Peter swallowed hard, not that it helped. “What does it mean?”

Loki brought the certificate close, looking at the blank space where a father’s name should be.

“It means your mother knew”

*

[existentialburden]

all of the oc asks? (i’m on mobile so asks are weird)

oh!!! okay okay uh which oc oh no uhhhhhh Enny again!

how does your OC act around different people and how does their personality change to match the environment they’re in? how do they act with: friends, family, strangers, children, or their lover(s)?

Enny is a sliding scale. with the mains, she’s spiteful, cold, and just flat out mean, carefully choosing her words before speaking so everything comes out the way she wants it to. with alt Kodi, she lets any exhaustion show and she’s more relaxed, talking about her interests more and casually teasing him. with Echo, she’s vulnerable and, while still restraining her emotions, tries to at least express things through a more emotional lens- and she’s WAY more honest with him than a lot of people. with [REDACTED], she’s more playfully snarky, both teasing and calculating during their games and just generally teasing outside. she’s also extremely soft and relaxed around him, watchful but not really wary. with strangers, she’s tense and her voice actually has more inflection than most times because she’s using more intense tones for their benefit- usually she’s more deadpan (when her voice does get a tone it stands out), but that tends to drive people off. she doesn’t trust strangers so she just acts to blend in. in emotionally-charged scenarios she’s either loud or very quiet depending on the emotion- if other people are angry she goes quiet, if SHE’S angry she gets loud, when she’s happy there’s not a lot of volume change but she taps her fingers or sort of moves in place, and when she’s worried or upset she fiddles with things in her hands or digs her nails into her arms. that’s more body language than personality but!! I like those details!! make me happy.

does your OC prefer to take the lead or follow orders? with everyone or just with certain people? is there a reason for this?

Enny prefers to be in control, taking the lead. she had Zero Control when she was younger and in order to make sure that never happens again tends to force her way into positions of power. can’t be hurt if you’re the one at the top. once she’s comfortable around a group this fades but she always at least likes a say in everything.

how easily is your OC embarrassed? what subjects make them flush and why? what event has made your OC the most embarrassed they’ve ever been?

she’s not embarrassed by a lot. being made fun of gets no embarrassment, getting caught in a ramble isn’t as embarrassing as it is frustrating that she lost track of how long she was talking..... but oh boy the topic of love. she shows love and care through actions so hearing someone she cares about just bluntly say “I love you”? fucking WILD how could they just SAY THAT like it’s a FACT that’s not how this works why do they love her what the fuck. that’ll get her flustered. feelings and shit. she’s also highly embarrassed about her creepypasta self-insert fanfiction from years ago but that will never see the light of day again so it’s no big.

does your OC have any triggers? why do these things trigger them? what are they like when triggered and how do they calm down after?

slamming doors, people yelling (specifically adult men), and her old name, but only when it’s used in reference to her- seeing people talking about main Aila isn’t an issue, but being called Aila herself makes her a little panicky. in a certain au, the distinct Mind player teal is a minor trigger as well. the first three are because of her father’s abuse, and the last one is because of an incident with a Mind player that uh. didn’t go great. slamming doors make her freeze up and she stops breathing entirely until she can calm down, people yelling makes her close to tears, frozen, and again not breathing, as well as leaving her unable to speak until a bit after she’s calmed down. her old name also makes her freeze up for a moment. enclosed spaces help her calm down because they feel like a safe zone since she can see what’s coming and she used to hide in her closet. select trusted people also help her calm down, like alt Kodi, Echo, and [REDACTED], but alt Kodi helps the most by just being there since she associates him with safety, too. Echo does NOT apply to the Mind player teal and he’d just make things worse for that specific one because of the situation.

are there any emotions your OC doesn’t know how to deal with, doesn’t understand or hates having to feel? any reason behind this?

...most? Enny DESPISES feeling afraid and has a real rough time calming down when startled, and she hates feeling like she’s helpless. she doesn’t understand love for a while, too, and affection with her is weird and she can’t deal with it. she also hates feeling jealous or envious mostly because it’s a reminder that other people got to have things she didn’t. she doesn’t understand love because she’s repressed as fuck and she can’t deal with feeling any sort of affection because she’s never really gotten to express it or felt like she got it back from other people.

does your OC have any skills that people wouldn’t expect them to have? do they have a hobby or pastime that others would consider strange or weird? how did they learn this particular skill or pick up this hobby?

!!! I mean, it’s weird for Enny, but she can paint! she learned how to paint from Cece before the ship got built and it was her first true “downtime” hobby that she stuck with. she can also carry a tune surprisingly well! what’s more surprising is that she DOESN’T know how to play chess.

how well does your OC take care of themself? do they tend to put others before their own well-being and if so how often? what is their favorite way to pamper themself?

she.... is not good at taking care of herself. she doesn’t exactly put other people before herself? she’s just not good at self-care. the ship got her a proper meal schedule, and sure, she brushes her hair, and those are two points in her favor and both things she has up on me! but her sleep schedule’s fucky because of nightmares, she doesn’t always actually take time to relax, she doesn’t think positively of herself, she doesn’t do things for the sake of enjoying herself, and she slips back into Consumption habits more often than most people on the ship, if not all of them. her self-care is occasionally going to stay in alt Kodi’s room or the other way around to swap snack stashes and vent and just hang out. it’s calming for her. sibling bonding time.

what are some of your OC’s favorites? favorite food, color, season, stuff like that! give some general simple facts that tend to get overlooked!

Enny loves dark chocolate, black licorice, autumn, rainy days, dark blue-ish grey, and bubblegum. she likes cola sodas and small spaces, and prefers pens that click over pens that have caps. she also writes in pen rather than pencil, and she was left-handed before she taught herself to be ambidextrous! she prefers enclosed spaces over open areas because she can’t keep an eye on every direction in an open area. she also prefers audiobooks over reading words and loves mysteries, and likes thunderstorms :).

does your OC like to sleep alone or do they enjoy sharing their bed? have they been to any sleepovers? have they ever been camping? what did they think of the experiences if so?

she gets real fond of sharing her bed, exclusively with people she really trusts. [REDACTED] has shared-bed privileges. she’s never been to an actual sleepover and she’s never been camping! she has stayed at alt Kodi’s before, without any of the sleepover activities, and that was always nice.

when your OC says “I had a bad day” what does that tend to mean? is it really as bad as they’re saying or are they being a bit dramatic?

if she says “I had a bad day” she had a BAD DAY. she does like to be dramatic sometimes, but when talking about her day it’s exactly as bad as she claims it is. a bad day is “I got attacked by something/someone and feared for my life and stayed shaken all day” or “I had nightmares again last night and couldn’t calm down so I spent the entire day trying to hide away and then someone had to come calm me down and they saw me panicking and I Don’t Like That” or “a Mind player impersonated my therapist and took some of my memories and called me a horrible person just like my father and said I could never be redeemed”.

is your OC a good liar? how easy is it for them to tell lies? what is the biggest lie they’ve ever told and did they ever get found out? on the other hand, what is the biggest lie someone has told your OC and did they believe them?

she’s an excellent liar when she wants to be. lies are easy to tell and easier to explain for her. the biggest lie was probably during the Main Timeline Incident when she tried to convince Hope that the Time players were acting fucky and needed to be taken down- that one went over pretty neutrally because while Hope didn’t help her, she also didn’t go tell everyone because she wasn’t sure if that was the truth or not. if not that one, her accidental lie claiming she was in love with Kell because she just straight-up Did Not Know that wasn’t love. or the lie to herself that she had Absolutely Zero Attraction To Girls. repression’s a hell of a drug. the biggest lie she’s been told would probably be the aforementioned Mind player pretending to be Echo. that one was SO FUCKED and she fell for it. or, again, her convincing herself she didn’t like girls at all nuh-uh no way.

how religious is your OC? do they pray to any god(s) or do they not believe in that kind of stuff? what is their view of religion in general? where do they believe people go when they die? if your OC is not religious why not and what do they believe in otherwise?

she’s not religious at all. she’s neutral on religion and has a number of death theories- one is just straight-up SBURB dreambubbles because SBURB’s real so why not. another is you join the ranks of the horrorterrors when you die. in the same au as before she became an Actual God and dead players did in fact start showing up at her door so uh. that. that’s what happens. she guesses.

what is something from your OC’s past they’re the most ashamed of and why? what is something they’re really proud of? and lastly what is something in their past that could make them shake with dread?

she’s ashamed of how she used to treat Kell and alt Hurlii, and also kind of ashamed about... being abused? she knows she’s not the one who should be ashamed about that one but. :/. she’s also ashamed of jumping straight to “put main Kori out of commission” with the Main Timeline Incident. she’s proud that she’s made it as far as she has and just surviving, and also proud that she’s been able to open up to Echo and get therapy for her trauma. I think we all know what could make her tremble at this point though.

what does your OC do on their days off from working, school or whatever else it is they may do? do they enjoy relaxing, shopping, hanging out with friends? what is a normal day like for them?

she used to hang out with alt Kodi whenever she could, but on the ship, she goes and hangs out with [REDACTED], distracts herself with busywork, and spends time with her crewmates. she’s trying to be more social.

what was your OC like as a baby? what were they like as a child? a teenager? an adult? how do you think they’ll develop ten years into their future? twenty years? will they live to old age?

she baby. as a kid she was pretty quiet- one of those “pleasure to have in class” sorta kids who did their work and kept their mouth shut. she didn’t have a lot of friends. she got snarkier as she aged and became sort of a bully; she was still quiet, but the quiet angry type. as an adult she mellows tf out after getting therapy and still works on y’know, being a person, but definitely starts accepting herself a lot more and starts being The Trusted Adult. she’s going to provide a safe area for kids and accidentally adopt them along the way babey. she definitely grows to old age as a god tier :).

does your OC have any bad habits? does your OC have any addictions like smoking or drinking? how did they fall into these habits and why?

if digging her nails into her arms counts, that’s a habit. she also relapses into Consumption more than the others- frantic note-taking and knowledge absorption to an extreme. she doesn’t really know how the arm thing got started, but something about the sharpness of digging her nails in was supposed to ground her or something, and now she doesn’t even notice that she’s doing it. so it doesn’t work anymore and just leaves marks sometimes :(.

what does your OC think is their best trait? what is actually their best trait? what about their flaws? are they one to admit these flaws or do they like to pretend they’re perfect?

Enny thinks her best trait is her problem-solving ability, but I think her best trait is her resilience. both are very good, though! she has plenty of flaws and she doesn’t like to bring a lot of them up, but she admits them more than she thinks she does. she’s VERY aware of them though. she thinks she’s selfish, aggressive, deceptive, and generally unpleasant to be around. she thinks she’s way worse than she is tbh.

What is your OC like in bed- 

sleepy. that’s it. Enny does NOT fuck.

what’s a sentence that would make your OC’s day better? one that would make them laugh? one that would make their day worse? why? what words would you have to say to them to completely ruin their day?

depends who’s saying it! a simple invitation to hang out from some people would improve her day, but from others it would make things far worse. generally, a compliment doesn’t hurt, or an “I like being around you” or something. she tends to laugh at things that are light jabs at people and sometimes sudden tone shifts. most mentions of her past would make her day worse, and any mention of her dad is a no-go. if you want to ruin her day entirely, compare her to her father.

how much effort does your OC put into their looks? do they care much about how they’re dressed or what their hair looks like or are they not bothered? could they be considered a snob or a slob?

she puts probably an average amount of effort into her looks. depends on the day and what’s going on and how she feels, but it’s generally consistent. she keeps her hair neat, makes her outfit match, enjoys having the option of makeup with no one to say whether she should or shouldn’t wear it, and just goes about her day. but she doesn’t spend too much time on it. I’d say she’s somewhere in the middle. more snobby than me, but I’m a massive slob :P

what additions would your OC make to their body if they could? let’s say, if they don’t have a tail would they want one? wings? horns? do they wish they could shapeshift?

!!! I’ve gone over this in a roleplay before! she honestly doesn’t know what she wants because she’s never thought about it before, but if she happened to suddenly and mysteriously gain shapeshifting she’d spend a lot of time just trying to find anything that felt right without being her original form. eventually she’d settle back into her og form with minor changes, maybe dye her hair instantly or something. definitely dye her hair. she’d totally fuck around with a monster form too. and I mean, who would say no to shapeshifting? she would like having the option to change everything at the drop of a hat. to not be herself, and then be herself again, and then maybe try out a snake tail and have fun with that, and then-

what inspired you to make this OC? how long have you had them? how have they changed in the time you’ve been developing them?

originally she was just for a fun “opposites” AU, and I’ve had her for about... 2 years? 2 years. what really made me latch onto her was a suggestion from a friend :). she’s gone from a one-off character who was primarily bitter to my favorite good good child who is still SO BITTER but wants to do good things. plus I like her more than Deux now and that was NOT the case back then.

what traits of your own do you see in this OC? are they a little bit self-inserty? don’t be shy, we all put parts of ourselves into the creations we love!

we both get panicky at slammed doors and at people yelling, along with feeling vulnerable when we can’t keep an eye out in every angle. we’re also both ace. a lot of her interests are the same as mine, and her finger-tapping, nail-digging, and pen-clicking are all from me. we also both have to think about our facial expressions, though they come a bit more naturally to me than to her. we’re both real fond of [REDACTED], we both like monsters, and we both have too many thoughts at once. her general demeanor isn’t really me, though. she mostly took all my little details. oh shit we both wear glasses too :P and we both changed our names.

what is your personal opinion of this OC? do you love them or are they your trash child? are they your baby?

I love her so much. you don’t understand how much I love her. she’s absolutely my favorite child!!!

are you writing anything with this OC or planning on writing anything for them? do you RP with them or are they just for fun to mess around with?

I both write stuff with her and RP as her! she’s my faaaavorite. I write about her in AUs (horrorterror Enny, monster AU, superhero AU, etc.) and in canon, and I’m hoping to write more once I have more time on my hands! she’s also my D&D character in a current campaign. and I rp her on her character blog @eloquentbarrister :P

how important is this OC to you? are they a character that’s helped you through some pretty tough times or could you scrap them without feeling a thing?

she’s, uh... she’s real important. I vent through her a lot and thinking about her calms me down.

do you enjoy working on your OC or are they a bit of a chore? we all have that one character who is hard to develop!

every day I think to myself “hm, what does this action say about Enny?”, so when it comes to her I love working on her! I could write essays about her! her goals are vague in certain aus which is the only bad part but so are mine, really.

ramble a bit about this character! 

that’s all I’ve been doing this whole time :P but!! she’s so good in every AU. learning how to be vulnerable and talk to people. learning how to be comfortable with herself. giving a huge middle finger to her past, at first trying to run from it and anything she did back then, and then going “yeah, that was a thing that happened, and it was fucked up, but I’ve come a long way”. she’s so good. she’s SO GOOD. monster AU Enny is fun too bcause the plot goes from “various monster kids relentlessly interact with the changeling kid until she considers them friends and the changeling learns to trust robot dad, learning how to play an instrument along the way” to “changeling becomes best friends with a god, does some drugs in the woods, and then watches the apocalypse go down with a big ol smile”. D&D Enny is very good because she’s a halfling warlock with a fun affectionate relationship with her patron and won’t stop adopting children despite barely being an adult. she wants to kill the gods and it’s very fun and cool tbh. also HORRORTERROR ENNY......... KILLS ME.......... ughhhh I’d love to ramble about her but I’m also WRITING her and wanna share that writing y’feel? just. aaaaaaaaa. Enny “Enlightener” Delmirain’t!!!!!

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

I saw your post about how Xianity is not essential to Judaism and and I don't want to derail it it but one particular thing really struck me while reading it; the concept of teshuva compared to Xian forgiveness, particularly how those differences really reflect how I've seen both religious cultures (???) handle person-to-person forgiveness. Judaism (at least from what I've seen) has actual steps for apologising, and they're all really good common-sense rules like 'don't do it again'. (1/3)

(cont.) The burden is on the offender to make things right, they’re the active party. In contrast, in Xianity you don’t have to do anything to make it up to the person you hurt. In fact, in Xian communities there’s usually a burden on the /hurt/ party to forgive and it’s seen as really cruel and a sign of moral weakness that you won’t let them feel better about what they did, even (sometimes /especially/) when they’re not sorry and intend to keep hurting you. (2/3)

(cont.) To me these two things feel like extensions of the attitude towards divine forgiveness and repentance. In Xianity receiving forgiveness feels like a very passive thing that’s all centred on your own guilt, your own inherent sin, and an attitude of ‘I said sorry so my hands are clean and now you have to make it up to me for making me feel bad for what I did’, etc. Judaism, on the other hand, seems to take a very pro-active, balanced approach of doing better for yourself and others. (3/3)

Hi Sarahsyna, 

The differences between xian and Jewish understandings of what forgiveness is and how we should go about it are interesting, no? 

I would say this is a pretty accurate analysis of the differences and where they come from. However, I would like to expand on this and add a bit of nuance to it, if I may. 

There are different levels and types of wrongs to be forgiven, and the responses to them should be different. 

Wrongs that are relatively minor, are fixable, and/or that are relatively common amongst otherwise decent people; 

Wrongs that major, unfixable, and/or that are criminal/violent in nature; 

Wrongs committed against oneself

Wrongs committed against others (usually in your sphere of influence, such as to your family members, but not necessarily) 

In my experience, Judaism does a much better job of making these distinctions than xianity. 

Minor Wrongs vs. Major Wrongs

Xian forgiveness is really appropriate for minor wrongs (with proportionately minor consequences.) Things like: someone took your lunch once, which creates an annoying but temporary problem. We shouldn’t sweat the small stuff, and as frustrating as that situation is, it’s not worth holding a grudge against someone forever because of a dumb prank. 

Judaism similarly holds that we shouldn’t hang onto a grudge over this, and encourages people to let it go. Give the offender ample chance to apologize, but if they don’t, don’t waste your energy being mad at them. (Have you forgiven them? No. Should you still move on with your life? Yes.) 

Of course, if by taking your lunch, they caused you to be unable to take a vital medicine, which consequently put you in the hospital, it should change the equation, no? 

In xianity as I experienced it (**please insert that caveat throughout this discussion), it actually doesn’t change the equation. The intent of the offender was a dumb prank and so the forgiveness should be equally straightforward, even if the consequences to you are more severe than that person realized they would be when they did it. You should try to put yourself in the prankster’s shoes and imagine how awful you’d feel and how badly you’d want to be forgiven if it were you. 

In Judaism, that person would need to do a lot more to make it right before asking for forgiveness. That might involve helping you pay your hospital bills, picking up your slack at work and/or otherwise trying to help in concrete ways because while their intent was minor, the effect on you was major. They must cope with that reality in the same way that you must. Might their intent factor into how inclined you are to forgive them afterwards? Sure! But they need to show that they realize how serious the consequences of their actions are and seek to remedy it first. 

Fixable vs. Unfixable Wrongs

The consequences of some wrongs are fixable to varying degrees; others are not. If you take five dollars from my bag and then feel bad about it an hour later and put the money back? You’ve totally rectified the situation. 

On the other extreme? While I have put in many, many hours of therapy and self-reflection and healing and therefore have gotten it under control, I will never not have trauma from having been raped and abused. Even if the perps spent the rest of their lives truly regretting what they did and doing hard work on behalf of survivors, they could never undo the damage they caused, even if they subsequently changed their behavior 180 degrees. (Editorial note: unsurprisingly, none of them have actually done any of that.) 

Growing up, I felt an unbearable need to magnanimously forgive the perp despite his refusal to admit to what he did or apologize, and even as a culturally xian adult, I still felt a compulsory need to forgive subsequent offenders at least for my own sake in order to move on. 

Judaism relieved me of any responsibility to forgive any of them, ever, because they have never apologized. I’m not even allowed to forgive them since they’ve never asked for it, but I don’t have to do so in order to heal because nothing they could do could heal me anyway. Them apologizing wouldn’t change the reality of their acts and me forgiving them wouldn’t change their future behavior. My healing is (for better or worse) my problem, and their becoming better people is their problem. 

In a better world where they did hold themselves accountable? That would be stellar, but even in that world my remedy comes from the peace of mind in knowing that they aren’t hurting other people, from them still staying the hell away from me, and the justice in knowing that they have to live with what they did and are truly reckoning with it. 

As a side note, it’s worth noting that this is why lashon hara is compared to murder by the rabbis. Lashon hara literally means “evil speech,” but refers to true statements that did not need to be made for any serious purpose and are malicious in nature. As an example, “Alex has gotten really overweight this year, huh?” might strictly speaking be true, but is nevertheless clearly intended to be mean and gossipy. Why is lashon hara taken so seriously? Because you can’t put that toothpaste back in the tube. You can’t unring that bell. Once those words have left your lips, they’re out there, forever. You can apologize, but you can’t unsay what you already said. 

Grace vs. Accountability

Ultimately, I believe that the foundational difference between how xianity approaches forgiveness and how Judaism approaches forgiveness are how it is defined in each. 

In xianity, forgiveness flows, as you said from the idea that humans were forgiven for our sins by Jesus on his own initiative, and therefore we should replicate that kind of forgiveness in our own lives. Sin is inevitable, and the work of repairing it can be done by the person who was wronged, the same way that Jesus repaired humanity’s relationship with God through his sacrifice. This creates a model that centers grace given by the wronged person. Deservingness on the part of the wrongdoer does not factor into the equation. 

At its best, this gives the person who was wronged the agency to address the problem themselves without waiting around for the wrongdoer to get it together. It has the potential to allow people with pain to let go of that pain. At its worst, it creates a system where victims are pressured (by their communities, spiritual leaders, and/or themselves) to forgive at great cost to themselves with zero accountability on the part of the offender. 

However. 

That assumes, as a baseline, that forgiveness is a prerequisite to moving on with your life. In the same way that forgiveness by God/salvation is a prerequisite to eternal life in xianity, so too is forgiveness between individuals a prerequisite to living the rest of your life without that baggage. 

Judaism makes no such assumption. In fact, it comes to rather the opposite conclusion: forgiveness may be necessary for the wrongdoer to move on, but you, the wronged person, should feel no need to provide it unless and until the person has actually rectified the situation and asked for forgiveness. (And even under those circumstances, while forgiving is the morally correct thing to do, you aren’t always actually obligated to do so.) 

Judaism operates on an accountability model that says that if you harm another person, it’s on you to fix it to that person’s satisfaction. If you are harmed by another person, you should do whatever you need to in order to move forward, but you don’t have to say that they’ve met their burden unless and until they actually do. In this view, forgiveness is not defined as grace, but rather as recognition that the person has actually held themselves accountable for their actions. 

This, too, flows from a theological perspective: G-d expects us to constantly be striving to better ourselves, which we can only do by holding ourselves fully accountable for our actions. We are moral creatures, capable of making an active choice between good and evil. While mistakes are inevitable, we elevate ourselves spiritually, not by the grace of G-d or others, but by evaluating and reflecting on our own behavior and then taking active steps towards long-lasting change. 

All of that, however, refers to direct wrongs between the wrongdoer and the wronged. I would be extremely remiss if I didn’t address … … 

Wrongs Committed Against You vs. Wrongs Committed Against Others in Your Vicinity

One of the most serious problems I have with xian theology is the fact that the concept of grace doesn’t just apply between the wrongdoer and the wronged. It also applies between bystanders and the wronged. 

Here is a great example of this: 

Many of you may not know that one of my four children has Down syndrome. Her name is Bekah, and today she is 25. Bekah went to public school in elementary and middle school and was in normal classes and had lots of friends. Later, she attended college.

Many years ago, Bekah wanted to try out for cheer leading. My wife and I were amazed at how she learned the routines – jumping in the air, doing splits, and yelling out the cheers. Unfortunately, she did not make the team which was very disappointing for her and us. She had a really hard time understanding that she could no longer cheer with the other girls.

Soon afterwards, we received a letter from the coach explaining Bekah was not cut from the team because of her disability but because…she kicked, hit, yelled and cussed while in line with the other girls. We were stunned, no shocked, because Bekah had never exhibited any of those behaviors ever in any situation.

At a sleepover a few weeks later, which Bekah hosted in our home, several of the girls who had made the team asked my wife why Bekah had not made the team. My wife gently told them about the letter. They all immediately cried out, “Ms. Ellen, that’s not true at all. Bekah didn’t do any of those things. In fact, she did great in the tryouts.” Ellen called for me and asked me to come hear what the girls were saying. They repeated it all again.

This person had not only lied but had impugned Bekah’s character and we were angry! What had been done to our daughter was dastardly. The question afterwards was, “What are we going to do about this?” We knew we could not pull these girls into a dispute with this coach. So, we had no recourse. This coach had hurt a person who could not speak up for herself due to her disability and there was nothing we could do about it…except forgive.

Did this person deserve to be forgiven? Absolutely not. But we were not going to allow a root of bitterness to grow within us that Hebrews 12:15 warns about. We were not about to give this person power over our lives. We were not about to give Satan power over us. Was it easy? No! Everything in us cried out for justice but there was none to be had.

So, we trusted Christ in us, the greatest “forgiver” of all time, to live through us so we could forgive. We wanted to live like who we are in Christ, “forgivers”, in obedience from the love in our hearts for our Father. We wanted to “forgive one another just as God had forgiven us in Christ” (Ephesians 4:32) So, we sat before the Lord and poured out to Him our anger, our hurt, and our desire for justice. Then, because God had forgiven us for all our sins we did not deserve to be forgiven for, we forgave this person; meaning, we released the person from the debt we believe they owed us. In this case, the debt would have been an admission to us and especially to Bekah of the wrong they had done.

A few weeks later, would you believe that we saw this person at a church we were visiting? We were both so glad we had been honest with God about the hurts we received from the offense and then chose to forgive. We live free today from bitterness, resentment and unforgiveness. Praise God!

[Source: x] 

Okay, so we don’t have time to unpack all of that, but just… sit with the fact, for a moment, that Bekah is utterly silenced by this approach. Did her parents have any right to forgive the coach? No, no they did not. That was Bekah’s right, and Bekah’s alone. 

Compare that to what Rabbi Telushkin relays in his Code of Jewish Ethics: 

”The differing attitudes of Jews and Christians on granting forgiveness for serious, particularly violent, crimes is reflected in an incident that Dr. Solomon Schimmel, a psychologist and a religious Jew, relates in his book, Wounds Not Healed, concerning a Christian woman who nursed back to life a man who had murdered her parents and raped her. The man, shocked by her behavior, asked the woman, “Why didn’t you kill me?” She replied, “I am a follower of him [i.e., Jesus] who says, ‘Love your enemy.’ “A remarkable story, but as Schimmel, writing from a Jewish perspective, asks, “Why, however, is it noble to love and take care of evil people?”

“In contrast to this woman’s attitude, when the Jewish writer Cynthia Ozick was asked if it was morally appropriate to forgive a penitent Nazi SS officer who had participated in the murder of a Jewish community in Poland, she responded: “‘I forgive you,’ we say to the child who has muddied the carpet, ‘but next time don’t do it again.’ Next time, she will leave the muddy boots outside the door; forgiveness, with its enlarging capacity, will have taught her. Forgiveness is an effective teacher. Meanwhile, the spots can be washed away. But murder is irrevocable. Murder is irreversible…. Even if forgiveness restrains one from perpetrating a new batch of corpses, will the last batch come alive again?…Forgiveness is pitiless. It forgets the victim. It cultivates sensitiveness toward the murderer at the price of insensitiveness toward the victim.”

“And what of the penitent SS officer? “Let the SS man die unshriven. Let him go to hell.”

“The Jewish view can be summed up as follows: Forgiveness is almost always a virtue, but the taking of an innocent life is an unforgivable offense.”

[Source: x] 

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Seven

Part Six

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx

Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide, minor sexual situations

Tag list:  @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @allieburakovsky @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork  @6ixx6ixx@ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard  @oldschoolimagineblog@thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog@ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen​

**Let me know if you want to be tagged**

-------------------------------------------------------- "How does it feel to be a high school graduate?" My aunt Lily asks me, continuing to stir the cake batter while reading the rest of the recipe from my mother's dessert cook book.

I flip through the rock magazine she brought over, sitting on the counter in a tank top and pair of pajama shorts. 

"Then they're good friends." She finishes her mixing and hands me the chocolate covered spatula. "You're gonna need it to pour the batter in to the pans and spread it out evenly." I remind her and she looks at the cake mixed in the bowl and then at the spatula I'm holding out to her.  "Oh...I knew that." She plucks it from my hand, frustrated with herself. "I swear, I could do everything right when I wasn't sober." She grumbles, pouring the mix in to one of the pans. "I cooked thanksgiving dinner perfectly when I was on coke, and now I can't even bake a cake. I never got pulled over for a DUI when I was using and guess what? I have a big fat ticket stuck to my fridge because I got pulled over for reckless driving last week. Clean as can be. What's up with that?" She scoffs out, pouring the second pan full.  "You mean the thanksgiving you sprinkled cocaine over the brownies instead of powdered sugar?" "I was tipsy and wasn't thinking." She argues.  "Mom had you arrested and vowed to never let me see you until you got clean."  "Because your mom's a bitch." "Aunt Lily, you tried to give me coke brownies."  "It wouldn't have been the end of the world. It's not like it was LSD or heroine." She goes to put the pans in the oven and I stop her.  "Drop them on the counter to make sure they're even and the air bubbles are out." I tell her and she holds each pan above the counter a few inches and drops them both three times, slipping them in the oven, and closing it.  She hands me the spatula to lick it clean and runs a hand through her perfectly styled,  blonde hair.  Aunt Lily was my mother's sister, younger than her by fifteen years, making Lily only a few years older than Nikki, and probably around Mick's age. She was the definition of wild child with her fitted clothes and "trampy" hair, that wasn't really trampy but my mom didn't like it so she called it trampy. She was my age when she fell in love with a some drum player who got her hooked on every drug known to man, and got pregnant for the first time. She ended up losing it when she OD'd on heroine at a Rolling Stone's concert, and her beloved first love left her there to die and never spoke to her again. She was engaged six different times after that, all six of them were up and coming musicians, but I think the eighteen year old inside her clung to any man claiming to be a musician in the hopes of finding someone just like the first one she fell in love with. Although we lived in the same city, I only saw her once every few years. Mainly because she was in and out of rehab, and my mother wouldn't let me near her if she wasn't sober at least a month. The last time she had gotten sober was because she wanted to see me and my mom told her she'd never see me again until she stopped using and stayed sober the rest of her life. She nearly died because she quit cold-turkey just for me.  "So," She nudges my legs with her hip. "I heard Tommy's officially got a ticket to hell." "First class." I add, looking at her with a little smile. "Mom's heartbroken." "I'm sure it's devastating to have to tell a boy who's like your son that he's going to hell with no possibility of redemption." She sighs out smartly. "Poor Charlette. How on Earth will she get by knowing there actually is someone she knows that she can't control?"  "She'll manage." "And does she know she doesn't have you by the ear anymore?" She asks me and I stop my reading and look up at her.  "Wha--" "I go to a lot of the shows on the strip when I can, Viv. I've seen you with them a lot." She explains and I nod, closing the magazine.  "No. Mom doesn't know because if she did, I would be dead."  "Well, you don't have to tell her until you're ready." She assures me.  "Um, I think it'll be sooner when she realizes I'm not at Julliard in the fall." I say and she raises her brows. "What? Why not? You've worked so hard on school and in dance--" "I have other priorities right now. School can wait."  "Does Tommy know you're putting school off for him?" She asks. "It's not just Tommy anymore. I'm friends with all of them, and I don't want to leave them. And Tansy got approached by a modeling agent from New York so she's about to start her own thing, too. I've gotta be here for all of it. These are important people in my life and I can't miss any of it because I'm stuck at school." "When are you telling Charlette?" "When I withdraw from Julliard. I called earlier this week and they're sending me the paperwork in the mail."  The phone starts ringing and I hop off the counter to answer it. "Well, when she kicks you out, and she will, if you need a place to stay or some money or anything, you can call me because I will gladly support your demonic lifestyle." She promises, the both of us laughing as I answer the phone. "Hello?" "Viv, are you busy? Are your parents home?" It's Tansy and I glance at my aunt.  "Um, mom and dad are celebrating their anniversary so aunt Lily came over to babysit, why?" I ask. "You can't panic, okay?" My heart drops to my stomach, worse case scenarios filling my head.  "What's wrong?"  ----------------------------------------------------------- "I am so going to kill him." I mumble, stomping down the hall of the hospital in my pajama's.  Once I get to the room the nurse told us he was in, I see Tansy's waiting for me.  "What the hell happened?" I ask Nikki and he groans, rubbing his forehead from where he's laying in the small E.R. bed. "You called Vivian and snitched on me?" He barks at the small blonde. "It was a seizure. It's not like my heart stopped fucking beating."  "Do you know if you're okay? What were you doing?" I ask him. "Vivian--" He starts but can't finish. "Tox screen is loaded like a .22" The doctor tells us as she comes in with his test results, and looks at me. "Are you the girlfriend he was telling this one not to call?" She motions to Tansy briefly. "Yes." He grumbles, keeping his eyes closed.  "Lots of alcohol, a couple of pills, but I think what got him in to this mess, was the startling amount of Cocaine." She tells me and I glare at him. "Which can cause very serious seizures if used irresponsibly." "How the fuck are you supposed to use Cocaine responsibly?" He asks her. "By not overdosing, dumbass!" I flick his forehead.  "There wasn't any brain damage, but you need to come back if you notice anything abnormal. We're going to keep him here a little while longer until most everything's out of his system, then we'll discharge him." She tells me and I nod, thanking her before she leaves.  "I want to know exactly what happened." I tell him and Tansy, raising my brows when neither of them speak.  "Mick told him he should slow down, and he didn't. When he started seizing everyone at the party left to avoid getting in trouble. Vince didn't want to call an ambulance, neither did Tommy, so Mick dropped us off."  "Stop looking at me like that." He snaps at me and I glance at Tansy. She reads my mind and says: "I'm gonna go look for a vending machine. I'm hungry." Before she steps out of the room.  I turn to face Nikki, thinking of what to say. "Look, I fucked up, I'm sorry, it won't happen again." Nikki tells me, exhausted. "You've been over doing it a lot lately. I think this is your body's way of telling you to slow down," I sit on the edge of his tiny bed, putting my hand over his, brushing his skin with my thumb. "I think you might be getting--" "I'm not a fuckin' addict, Vivian. So shut the fuck up before you even think about tellin' me to go to rehab." He threatens and I open my mouth to speak before closing it, nodding a little.  "Okay, Nikki."  "Okay, Nikki" was my go-to "you're full of it but I don't want to start an argument so I'll just keep my mouth shut and let you do whatever" phrase. I was patient enough to simply say "okay, Nikki" anytime he did or said something I didn't like. That patience lasted through Shout at the Devil, when we all went on tour with Ozzy Osbourne and Nikki, Tommy and Vince were doing everything bad there was to do under the sun. Then I kept that patience with the Theater of Pain tour, in which Tommy and Nikki were doing nothing to contribute to Vince's new found sobriety after he had a drunk driving accident. By the time the tour for Girls, Girls, Girls started, my "okay, Nikki"  patience was used up. We spent the last leg of the tour infuriated with each other. I wanted out of the marriage, he wanted out of the marriage, but neither of us would let the other leave. It made zero sense to the people around us, but it made perfectly good sense to us. By the last few shows, every member of their opening band, Guns N' Roses, was calling me "Stripe" after Izzy Stradlin pointed out I was sweet and fun to be around until Nikki came around, which was the equivalent to feeding me after midnight, and I'd turn in to a Gremlin straight from hell because of it. I should've been offended by the nickname, since I was being compared to a demonic hellion, but I realized it was true. Nikki would enter a room, and his mere presence would piss me off, one of us would start an argument out of nothing, in front of anyone around at the time, Vince or Tommy would always defend Nikki and I would get fed up and try to avoid them, spending most of my time with Tansy and the band that wasn't making me question throwing myself off of a balcony just to get some peace and quiet. But when we first started out, I believed him every time he would look at me after some sort of fuck up and promise me it would never happen again. And all I would say, every single time, was "okay, Nikki."  With the IV fluids he's on, it doesn't take much longer for his system to clean up enough that's he's allowed to go home.  Vince and Tommy gone, probably partying, while Tansy and I make sure Nikki gets inside safely.  "I'll be in the car," She tells me once we're inside, and I nod. "I'll be there in a minute." I assure her. "No, take your time." She gives me a wink I wouldn't have noticed usually, and she takes my keys and heads out. "Do you need anything?" I offer to him and he falls on the couch, closing his eyes with a sigh. "My head is pounding." He complains, rubbing his forehead.  "Here," I motion for him to sit up, and he does, so I can sit down. He leys his head back down in my lap and I start moving my finger tips across his forehead. "I really am sorry, Viv." He says suddenly, almost whispering.  "It's okay." I lie. "Mistakes happen. I'm not mad." "You are, you're just passive aggressive." He points out, eyes still closed. "Would you rather me be aggressive-aggressive?"  "That sounds like it'd be hot." He smirks and I force myself not to chuckle. "You are a cross breed of a twelve year old boy and a bunny." I state and he laughs. Once our laughter settles down, his hand is comes up to grab my crucifix, pulling it off. He just stares at it, a weird, fixated grin on his face, and I watch him. "What's wrong?" I ask, waiting for him to answer.  He just let's it fall to the gross carpet before he sits up, grabs a handful of my hair, and brings my lips to his roughly. I let him, but I have no intention of sex at the moment. He needs to rest. I pull away to breathe after a minute, smiling at his expression, and when his hand goes to take my shorts off, I stop him. "Tansy's waiting outside for me." I tell him but he doesn't care. "It won't take that long," He argues, pushing my jacket off my shoulders, and tugging my shorts off. "I told her I'd be out there in a minute, ten minutes ago." I laugh out as he gets his pants unzipped and unbuttoned, yanking me on top of him. "You have ten seco--" I go completely mute as he pushes my panties to the side and frantically follows my "ten second" rule, before sending me stumbling out the door with sore innards and a hazey high. By the time I get back home, aunt Lily's waiting up for me, eating a piece of her cake. "Is he okay?" She asks, knowing about Nikki's condition when I told her what happened while I was grabbing my keys and shoes before I left.  "Cocaine overdose." I tell her, plopping down on the couch beside her and she raises her brows. "Oh, you've got yourself one of those, huh?"  "Unfortunately." I sigh out, rubbing my eyes.  "Gotta picture of him?" She asks and I step to my bedroom, grab the album from under my bed and grab a polaroid of Mick, Vince, Nikki, Tommy, and Tansy sitting at the booth at the Rainbow. I take it to her, and point at Nikki. "Oh, yeah, that is a whole lotta hair and a whole lotta trouble. Is he one of the reasons you're dropping school?" She says after a moment of silence in the room and I lick my lips.  "I don't recall him officially saying 'hey, you're my girlfriend now', but he told his doctor I was." I avoid her question and she smiles a little.  "Do you feel like you are?" "Yeah. I just thought he didn't want a girlfriend." "Well, he was probably strung out on whatever else he was on, too. He probably wasn't thinking." She explains and I nod.  "Yeah, you're right." "Unless he did mean it..." She continues to examine the photo, smiling softly.  The sound of my parents car door slamming shut causes me to rush back to my room and put the picture up while my aunt cleans up her small mess in the kitchen.  My parents step in to the house, laughing, and my mother's expression falters slightly at the sight of Lily. "Thank you, Lily, for watching her but we're home, now." Is all she says before stepping upstairs. "My pleasure, Charlette!" My aunt calls up after her, and my dad gives her a warm hug.  "Thank you, Lily." He says genuinely.  "I wouldn't do a damn thing for that woman if she married someone like herself." She states and he chuckles.  "Drive safe." He tells her, and kisses my hair, telling me "goodnight" as he heads up to his and my mom's room.  I help my aunt gather her things and as we get to the door, she turns to face me with tears in her eyes. "You are a gifted, beautiful, kind, brilliant girl, Vivian, and I am so very proud of you." Her voice shakes slightly and I furrow my brows. "Don't you dare touch any kind of drug. I don't care what it is. If it's not prescribed to you for an illness, don't take it. Liquor messes with your judgement and at the parties you're probably going to be dragged to by those boys, you need your judgement fully intact or you will get screwed up and I don't need you screwed up. I need you alive, I need you alive so you can live enough for the both of us." She goes on. "Surround yourself with people that make you brave in the best ways possible, and love them. Even when you hate them, you love the hell out of them, understand?" She asks and I nod, still a little confused as to why she's saying these things. She finally exhales, looking me directly in the eyes with a soft expression. "He is very attractive and probably as smooth as they come, but don't ever let that be the reason why you let what he thinks is good for you, keep you away from what you really need." She tells me. "He is not the end-all, be-all, Vivian. You are."  That was the last thing my aunt ever said to me. She ended up relapsing and killing herself when she got back home that night with a switch-blade some wanna be Rockstar left at her house. We later found out it was because Ronnie, her first love, had died of alcohol poisoning a few days before. She had always said she was going to see him again and try to make things right. I hope she was able to do that. 

[searchingwardrobes]

Natural Opposite: 16/16 (Epilogue)

Are we really here at the end? It’s definitely bittersweet to say goodbye to this fic and to the @captainswanbigbang. It’s hard to believe that this time a year ago I was just setting up my tumblr page and had zero followers. Now, I have made so many new friends, and a big part of that was doing this event. Thank you to everyone: mods, fellow writers, artists, and betas. Our chats on discord and all the sprints helped me finally write the thing. I had this idea for so long, but I wasn’t sure how many people would even care about a Dancing With the Stars AU. The response has been overwhelming, so thank you everyone for your comments, kudos, and reblogs. I especially thank my beta @distant-rose, my temporary beta @wellhellotragic, and my hard working artist @optomisticgirl. Being able to call all three of you my friends because of this event is even greater than the hard work you put in. Thank you!

And now, for that short, fluffy epilogue . . .

Summary: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Rating: M for mature themes, steamy dance routines, and sexy times (But NOT smut)

Trigger warnings: discussions of online solicitation of a minor, bullying, statutory rape, and emotionally abusive/controlling relationships; stalking; anti-Rumbelle, anti-Neal

Chapter Art by @optomisticgirl girl: Two| Four| Five| Six| Seven| Nine| Eleven| Twelve| Thirteen| Fourteen| Fifteen|

Can also be read on Ao3

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be added to my tag list) @snowbellewells @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @snidgetsafan @kday426 @thislassishooked @bethacaciakay @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @followbatb @onceuponaprincessworld @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules @let-it-raines

Chapter Sixteen: Epilogue

Ten Months Later

There was a crash and a muttered “bloody hell” from the kitchen behind her, and Emma half rose from her place on the living room couch. “Are you sure you two don’t need my help?”

“No, Mom!” Henry answered. Was that panic in his voice? “I mean, um . . . of course not.”

Killian chuckled, and the sound of it made Emma relax. “Sorry, love, just dropped the bowl of popcorn. We’ll just pop another.”

“You two really don’t need to do this,” she argued. “I’m fine not being there, really.”

“But it’s also a celebration,” Killian argued, coming around the kitchen island to lean over the couch, “one year ago, we were on the show. Little did I know how much it would change my life.”

She accepted the kiss he gave her with a smile.

“Hey!” Henry admonished. “Remember my rule about the kissing?”

“Never agreed to that rule, kid,” Emma laughed.

“Yeah, well,” Henry told her, “Killian’s gotta help me with this tray.”

“Be right back,” Killian told her with a wink, “get the show queued up, okay?”

Emma searched for the Roku remote on the coffee table, groaning when she looked across the room to find it neatly lined up with the other remotes on a shelf of the built-ins. Killian never seemed to understand why she and Henry got so frustrated with this neat habit of his, no matter how many times they tried to explain that storing the remotes right next to the TV defeated the whole purpose. She got up and walked over to retrieve it, her eyes lingering on the top shelf where the Dancing with the Stars mirror ball trophy sparkled in the light shining through the window. Right next to it sat the Emmy she had won for her choreography to Heart Shaped Box. Emma had argued with Killian about it when the three of them moved into their London flat. It was the first thing he unpacked, and he insisted that this was where it should go. Not only that, he had already pointed it out to every person who walked through the front door, even the guy who delivered their Chinese order a few nights ago. She pretended to be embarrassed, but his pride in her accomplishments honestly took her breath away. He had never even been nominated for an Emmy, and yet he displayed not a shred of insecurity or bitterness for hers, only wholehearted support.

They had made the move to London at the beginning of the summer so Henry could adjust to living in a new country before school started. The movie shoot would be a long one, not wrapping until February, if things stayed on schedule. It would make no sense to pull Henry out of school at that point, so they signed a year’s lease on the flat and threw themselves into making London their new home.

Rehearsals for the movie had started last week, and Emma was glad to have Killian at her side. At the first read-through of the script, she had shaken with nerves. She had worried that the rest of the cast wouldn’t accept her; that they would think she had won her role just because of her relationship with its star. But it turned out that the producers had intentionally gone with a largely unknown cast, except for Killian, and the feeling amongst everyone was largely one of excitement instead of ego and competition.

Emma loved the script, too. She played a naïve girl from a Midwestern town who moves to London to follow the punk band she idolizes. Killian played the equally naïve young man from the English countryside trying to make it as a musician, pining for Emma’s character while she chases her self-absorbed rock idol. It was a completely different role from Captain Hook, and she couldn’t be happier for him.

The theme for Dancing With the Stars was playing on the TV when Killian and Henry came in, the latter carrying a tray laden with popcorn, sodas, and boxes of movie theater candy. Henry set the tray down, and Killian pulled his hand from behind his back with a flourish to produce a bouquet of buttercups and forget-me-nots and presented them to her.

“M’lady,” he told her with a wink.

Emma accepted the bouquet, frowning in concern when his hand shook slightly as she took them. “Are you okay?”

“Of course? Why wouldn’t I be?”

He sat down next to her on the couch, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She didn’t press him despite the telltale scratching behind his ear. Henry plopped down on the floor by the coffee table, but kept glancing back at the two of them. On the TV, the couples had all been introduced, and the judges were being brought out.

“Is it weird to see your brother as a judge?” Killian asked, reaching over for some popcorn.

“A little, but I think he’s going to do a great job,” Emma answered, snatching some popcorn out of Killian’s palm. “Hey, kid, hand me that bowl and the Milk Duds.”

Henry’s eyes grew wide and caught Killian’s as he handed her the bowl. Then he lifted the box of Milk Duds slowly and carefully. Emma narrowed her eyes as her gaze toggled between the two of them.

“What is up with you two . . . “ she trailed off as she accepted the candy. “This is already open! Is there even candy in here?”

She opened the box and peered inside. Something sparkled. Her mouth fell open as she looked first at Killian and then at Henry. Slowly, she tilted the box and shook the contents into her open palm. Instead of Milk Duds, the box contained nothing but a simple, elegant, princess cut diamond ring. Speechless, she looked up to meet Killian’s eyes, which shone with emotion.

“Emma,” he said softly, “I love you. This past year has been the best one of my life. Dancing with you, now making this movie with you, it’s shown me one thing with startling clarity. No matter what comes in our lives, I wish to always, always be by your side.”

Emma blinked and swallowed, but she couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in her eyes. He took the ring gently from her hand. “Emma Swan, would you marry me?”

She nodded, the tears spilling over and making tracks down her cheeks. “Yes!”

Killian slid the ring on her finger, and Emma admired the way it caught the light. Then she surged forward, grasping his face in her hands and kissing him tenderly. Fittingly, the Dancing with the Stars theme music played from the TV as they kissed. When she first met this man, Emma thought he was her exact opposite in every way. Now she couldn’t think of anyone who understood her better, anyone who so naturally complemented her. She had finally found the perfect partner.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

s2g that moss has even been foreshadowing that lars was gonna get briefly killed like…not that specific but since we’re shown that the moss is lars and the flowers have a bit of gem in them…………

ppl are always weird about stuff everywhere smh but like…theres been obviously weird things like being way more ok with ancient beings ready to destroy all life on the planet than lars being too ill-tempered or doing something selfish like…i see that…. like lars doesnt need to be redeemed for anything jeez. every episode where he does something crap its on a minor scale vs like endangering lives or something and he gets k.o’d for it and then makes some sincere form of apology like? theres your redemption…i guess maybe people expect him to become acceptable overnight maybe but thats how people work and then every episode is like The Lesson of the Week instead of a closer look at a character and another step in their development as people figuring themselves out

like literally every character has issues smh! in like this and everything also but like….honestly lars has been a super self conscious and anxious teen from the start and really unhappy and like sometimes he does dumbass shit but who hasnt. if you think youve never hurt people you havent been paying close enough attention

anyways one of the things i really dont like? despite general overall stuff like teenaged lars momentarily losing his patience and realizing he’s in the wrong and immediately trying to make amends = him being judged more harshly than like….every millenia-old actually murderous actual antagonist introduced…. is that overall? its like really really clear really early on that he’s always struggling with a lot of mental health issues, and a common theme is irl people who really do have disorders pointing this out. like, that point can be made for every character in su and lars isnt The Mentally Ill One who alone represents the whole of the universal mental illness experience because obviously that doesnt exist and its a very unique and personal experience, and people dont have to directly relate to lars or any other character with such problems to verify their own. but lars and the cool kids is like super upfront about anxiety and he obv has really low confidence and low self worth and i’ll fight anytime about island adventure hinting strongly at depression—in addition to having him state outright that he feels lonely and isolated all the time. and like, he hates the job he works all the time, he’s not good in school, he and sadie feel an early connection but they obviously had to do a lot of work on that and step on each other’s emotional fingers along the way to finally get to where they are now—which i’m guessing is dating but without acknowledging so or at least not to others, he isn’t very close to his parents currently, he starts the series with 1.5 friends maximum and cant even approach the cool kids besides being desperate to be friends with them

like clearly he’s unhappy and for a while sadie and steven are probably the people closest to him even tho he is a lot more annoyed by steven at the start of things when steven is more little-kiddish than he is now…..but lars still acts mostly like himself around them But at the start him and sadie have too many complications and uncertainties to be really comfortable and again steven doesnt really come across as very mature, with lars pointing it out just now how stevens changed in that way, and it being difficult anyways for lars to confide in anybody

so like lars is and has always been super super defined and restricted by his fear of everybody he encounters, specifically being afraid of being hurt by them / fear of being disliked. i like to say that i think the way he prevents himself / his image is meant to be a way of controlling the reactions he expects people to have: i.e. making people dislike him is less scary/painful than being judged badly while hoping for the opposite. but i also never like saying that anyone who consciously cultivates their Look is faker than someone who doesnt put any thought into it, or is lying to themselves or others or whatever, i just would bet thats a part of it. but moreso than that, the fact that he’s irritable and ill-tempered all the time fits really well as a result of being so unhappy and afraid and trying to deal with it solo. it’s not about him not caring about people, when on an unrelated note but related-to-the-universal-human-experience he does something thoughtless or mean or just generally crosses a line, he notices immediately when someone feels hurt, and he’s shown to immediately feel bad, arguably to a fault and going too far with how guilty he feels. but anyways clearly even though he has the capacity to hurt people’s feelings, he’s very sensitive to that, he cares deeply when it happens, and he doesn’t want to hurt people. like apologizing with any genuine depth to it right off is an incredibly difficult task even for grownass adults, and lars is already really good at it. its wild that people think of him as super cruel and selfish when it’s clear that he’s very emotionally vulnerable and doesn’t have the capacity to callously disregard other people’s hurt feelings

anyways a point i’m taking a really long time to come around to is that lars is a really good example of someone who’s young and unhappy and isolated and really struggling with a lot of things and afraid of everything and the fact is that usually when youre looking for characters who are struggling with this kind of shit you get one-dimensional, maybe even one-episode characters like the person who shows up for the very special episode where everyone has a serious talk and learns a serious lesson and the Depression Character never shows up again, having gone off to be depressed somewhere else since we already know about depressed people. or depression and anxiety is something that can be solved literally overnight if you just confront the root cause, like eliminating the life problem that made x depressed or giving y a makeover or throwing them a surprise party to show them they have friends or something. or you learn that joe the bully is actually just physically violent because he is insecure, whoa man. or the Sad Kid is a running joke and a periphery character and their parents are getting divorced etc etc etc etc

the point is that lars is a main character and even when he learns things about himself that put him in a better place than when the episode began, his issues still don’t vanish (and i wouldnt be surprised if people use that as evidence that his character doesnt “grow”). and dealing with / revealing some of his issues arent a special episode, its just an episode, and its about him. he’s developed over and over and he’s shown to be a complicated person. he’s shown to enjoy things and have interests and a life. he’s a regular character as much as anyone else is, he isnt set aside in a special category

but the thing is that maybe people expect Mentally Ill™ characters to be more of the hamfisted media clichés with zero nuance and about as much accuracy to them? because there’s always the sweet-and-soft kind of person who’s surely dealing with mental illness acceptably because they make up for it by being pure and noble and something approximately like a newborn lamb. like depression is being maybe a bit cagey and avoidant and crying a lot and writing poetry (which will later be revealed as their secret talent!!) and sighing and generally just waiting for someone to approach them, very gently because they are shy and nervous like a fawn, and that savior will cure them with love and also with showing them how beautiful life is!!! and then they will start wearing more colorful clothes and they will be happy and the depression is over now, because someone just had to show their delicate, beautifully wounded soul the light

trauma? you can tell someone has Trauma because they act very stoic and strong 1000% of the time no exceptions but it is just a façade. they will never talk about The Thing. they will finally talk about the thing because someone pries about it with pure intentions and it is a big dramafest and theyve never talked about this before and everyone cries and its super serious and heavy and the person is a bit softer after that because they could finally let it out that one time. thanks, another savior. having disorders is just having turned away from the light

the point is that irl obviously things are very different and its rare to see people with such issues being treated the same as any other character and being able to grow in a realistic way and being able to have flaws the way that everyone else does, not having to be a pure defenseless dewy-eyed baby kitten who someone strong and Normal needs to rescue and put on the right path away from these problems forever. being pissed off and frustrated and confused but trying a lot of different ways to figure things out anyways is a lot more common, the way lars reacts to and deals with his vulnerability is a lot more realistic than just being a fairy-tale in-distress type figure. his character feels a million times more like he was developed by people who understand what its like to be experiencing what he does and developed for people who can relate to him, rather than being made by and for people who cant directly relate and who tend to make content thats wholly inaccurate and treats that kind of thing like an Other issue for Others that you only need to learn bullet points about because if its going to be a part of your life it’ll be a fleeting, one-time thing, not your everyday reality

i mean, its unsurprising that lars is actually pretty comfortable with steven now, given how long theyve known each other, but also how relentless steven is in being supportive of lars and treating him like a friend. its not surprising that it took lars this long to accept that, or that it was in part forced along by being stuck in a “we might die” scenario with steven. and its important to point out that this wasn’t just lars changing that made their relationship better, but steven growing as a person as well. if you put both if them in that situation during the start of the series, they could probably get along better than usual still, but you cant say that this is the first sign of lars developing any more than you can say this is stevens first development. lars has been struggling with himself just as steven has, although not in a fate-of-the-world way till now. lars couldnt be so conscious of his own fear and frustrated with it, and steven wouldnt have the maturity to do stuff like freakin sacrifice himself for earth by separating himself from the other crystal gems, much less lend lars the emotional support needed to give lars enough confidence to protect the off-colors

lars has been developing the whole time and even if people look at individual episodes and think lars learns nothing during them, i cant see how anyone could deny that this isn’t a turning point for lars as much as its the culmination of a gradual path he’s already been on. not to mention that “turning point” has implications like “redemption arc,” as if lars was inherently bad or worthless at the start of the series. he wasn’t; none of the characters were, but each character and all of their relationships were least developed of course. we see details and different sides of the donuts right away, and they both care enough about steven to treat him more as a little brother than a customer and to humor him sometimes. theyve always been important, and the fact that lars has always been a main character in the set of protagonists and that steven has always been a friend means that he cannot be converted by a “redemption” arc. he’s already there smh he’s always been there. seriously name one episode where he’s done something shitty and didnt do anything to make up for it. the only thing unresolved rn is he couldnt fight topaz for sadie, and he said himself he felt guilty over it, and it was already at that point the boldest thing he’d done and like, its not that unreasonable for a wisp of a teen to be terrified by a giant gem warrior that he had zero chance of doing anything to anyways. it wasnt glistening heroics but if thats gonna condemn lars like throw me in the pit too i guess. then he went and died for twelve individuals and left himself defenseless in hostile unfamiliar territory so that steven can go back to earth so thats something. but before all this alien drama like, again…..he’s always directly apologizing for shit and he’s just making everyday kinds of fuckups. he beats himself up about stuff. and gets beat up. and really like doesnt ever require an apology when he’s the one to get hurt, which isnt a requirement by any means and which is probably part of him thinking too badly of himself

the point? that maybe i still havent made besides saying i was gonna make it like half a dozen times?? is that lars is a really real portrayal of a person dealing with things in a real way. and its not the “pain is transcendent” thing where if someone is Suffering from mental illness it makes them wiser and kinder and holier than us regular people. its not where all you need to help someone with mental illness is one incidence of reaching out and telling them you love them and look at the stars and isnt it lovely. its not where disorders themselves are an arc and at the end, people’s personalities will be indistinguishable from that of those who never experienced what they did. its where dealing with this shit is normal and human and everyday and its not beautiful and its not gonna make other people “inspired” or get to feel good about themselves as your savior. its about pushing people away or having them avoid you anyways because they can hurt you in ways they can’t understand as being hurtful and shits confusing and sometimes kids will lash out and i bet lars was a lot more Difficult closer to stevens age than he is now. its about characteristics that seem ugly or repulsive or otherwise don’t directly cry out for help. its about shit staying with you even while you’re trying to figure out how to work through it. its about the unpleasantness of it all but also the real humanity behind it, not just using it as some device. lars’s problems are about lars and belong to him

and yeah of course he hurts people, but literally all the characters do; it has nothing to do with having disorders or not. everyone hurts each other even though they love each other, sometimes with the best intentions or 0% knowingly because they just have to figure out more things about themselves and each other. everything is about people making mistakes. lars is no worse in that matter than any of the other characters, he just happens to have a less appealing/inviting personality, god forbid less relatable. in the recent episodes he didnt have his usual defensive abrasiveness, even his frustration with steven in “stuck together” wasn’t that significant, and wasnt even much directed at steven. after that he was just scared, without it being masked by anger. he could be brave for the other gems because he knew he wanted to be brave and he knew how it felt for them to be so afraid and he was finally told that it was an okay thing that he still felt terrified. he could be completely himself with steven because of all the ways steven has gotten to know lars and refused to stop valuing him and how steven has grown to be someone who could protect others on his own in serious situations—which in this case included supporting lars emotionally as well as protecting him physically. if lars was dropped in that situation with the kid who just learned to summon his shield and was having an ice cream crisis five minutes ago, he couldnt trust or rely on him or count on him for encouraging advice. the way lars is in the wanted arc being so different from earlier episodes is as much about stevens development as lars’s really

like the real lars is and always has been deeply sensitive to peoples feelings (to the point he feels extremely vulnerable to them e.g. afraid of being hurt by being regarded negatively) and he’s always cared about the people he feels close to and he’s always been capable of moments of bravery for the sake of others and he likes wrestling and he’s good at cooking and he’s a dumbass sometimes and he watches scary movies and plays video games and sucks at school and is grumpy and is passionate and is scared and is a huge nerd with nerd parents and he never got over feeling hurt by the explorer club incident and he doesnt like fries and he and his coworker like each other and relate to each other and he sees steven as his annoying little brother and he doesnt know what he wants and also he’s a bi icon, it must be exhausting

lars has always been good and complex and i might be willing to forgive my slight disappointment in people realizing he’s good only now if and only if they go back and acknowledge that he’s been good this whole time. like obviously he doesn’t have to be your Fave or even “liked” to just be not hated or to be recognized as a complex, solid character. lars is so, so developed, probably more than any other human. he’s always been important, even before his importance had direct cosmic significance. he’s always shown signs of being thoughtful and caring and soft, and the fact that he’s hurt people he cares about and who care about him isnt evidence that he’s bad, not only because of the fact that literally all the Good characters hurt each other, but because irl hurting people you love isnt even necessarily evidence of a failure, its just an inevitability, and what happens following the event is whats a lot more telling than the fact any negative emotions were ever a part of a good relationship

anyways what’s definitely true is that lars didnt need to die. it wasnt a necessary atonement for anything lars has ever done. he didnt and doesnt need to be redeemed. he just was willing to risk his life for gems in a situation he could immediately relate to, and that risk happened to win out momentarily. besides, what lars was overcoming in that situation was his own fear, it wasnt anything that caused the stuff in the past that people seem to think so badly of him for. he was also protecting steven, sure, but steven was pretty much fine by the end of it coz of his shield. but he also hadnt ever really Not protected steven or anything so he didnt really need to make up for that or whatever

also one more thing ive always meant to bring up is that lars doesnt think much of himself and is prone to being too hard on himself but i know there are probably plenty of people who believe him when he says he needs to “deserve” being alive again. nah!!!! lars always deserved it

[artificialqueens]

Mother, My New Girlfriend is a Ghost, Again 3 (Katlaska) - Jem

AN: I’m back, midterms are over, and I have a sideblog now @ artificialjem . Get into it. Thanks all of you who asked for more, ily

Summary: an orgasm a day keeps the doctor away

Chapter 3

Move to America—->Find a place to live——->Get a job——->Make Friends——>Find a rich spouse to buy nice things.

That had originally been Katya’s well-thought-out plan for her life. Instead, it had been more like:

Move to America——->Make a friend by dumpster outside their place of employment——>Crash on said friend’s couch——–>fall into crippling depression—–>Move into an apartment——->Fuck a ghost——->Get a job as a sexy receptionist

Maybe it was all done in the wrong order but she was checking off the things on her original list in a more, unconventional manner. She had friends (two that she never saw anymore), she had a place to live (haunted, but a minor inconvenience), a girlfriend (not rich, not a spouse, oh yeah and not alive), and finally she’d applied at the optometrist’s office one street over and she got to wear sexy, business woman clothes even though all she did was answer the phone and make lists.

Despite the fact that Katya was probably mentally unstable for dating a not-real person, her life was kind of on track? She even went to the gym a couple times so she could stop doing yoga and gymnastics in the living room. She didn’t really like the big, buff men staring at her while she did squats but she supposed it must have meant her ass was getting finer by the day. She’d tried to get Alaska to join her on her fitness journey but the lanky girl had protested strongly.

“I’m dead, there’s literally zero reason to exercise. I don’t think I’m going to change my body in the slightest.” She’d explained with the vocal fry that had made its way into Katya’s heart.

Katya still couldn’t wrap her head around what Alaska could and could not do. Like, she could breathe and eat and sleep, but didn’t need to; she could move and have a physical body but moving and existing didn’t make her tired. But Katya wasn’t an expert and didn’t have any other ghosts to consult so she just let it all slide. Besides, she’d watched Alaska attempt a push up once and it had been pathetic honestly. Her arms looked like they had a bit of muscle but they were about as useful as sticks of dried spaghetti. That would be a no to a gym companion, then.

They still spent a lot of time together, even with Katya working and working out.

“What do you mean you’ve never seen Contact?” Katya asked Alaska in disbelief one evening.

“Is there something I’m missing, like has this movie been a meme or something that I don’t know about?”

“No, it’s just iconic.”

“You’re the one who hasn’t ever seen the Golden Girls”

“Sue me, I’m Russian.”

“And yet you’ve seen some random alien movie.”

“It’s not a random alien movie, it’s Jodie Foster discovering extraterrestrial life in a compelling science fiction drama.”

“Sometimes it confuses me that you have picked up on literally zero American social cues and yet you become obsessed with very specific strange things.”

“Can we watch it??”

“Fine.”

They started the film, but watching tv always turned into making out, which quickly enough turned into Alaska eating Katya out on the couch because she was a relentless sex fiend. She supposed the girl must get bored sitting around the apartment all day and had a lot of pent up sexual frustration.

Katya could hardly complain. An orgasm (or two or three) a day kept the doctor away, right? That tongue could make her fall apart so hard and fast.

Alaska was usually very in control, but damn, she was a kinky bitch. It was a wonderful power reversal for Katya to order her around.

“Take off your skirt and panties, slowly, one at a time.” Katya whispered in her ear. Alaska stripped, eyes hungry.

“I’ll tell you what I’d like to do to you.” Katya listed off a variety of activities and watched Alaska squirm as she refused to touch her more than gentle kisses along her collarbone. The girl reached her hands to touch herself, but Katya grabbed them to stop her. “You don’t touch yourself or me until I say so.”

Alaska whimpered, and Katya pushed her shirt up over her head and off her body so she was standing completely naked. Katya was still clothed, other than the panties that had been tossed out from under her skirt earlier.

She led Alaska to the bedroom, because for some reason they always had sex on the couch when there was a perfectly good bed right there. She pushed the girl onto the fluffy sheets and straddled her waist with her legs, careful not to make actual contact. She continued to press her lips along her throat, still avoiding too much stimulation. Alaska bucked her hips in an attempt to meet Katya, but Katya gently pushed her down on the stomach.

“What did I say?” Katya asked in a raspy voice.

“Not to touch you until you say so.” Alaska parroted, biting her lip and obviously desperate.

“That’s right.” Katya carefully rolled off the bed, reaching for the drawer in the bedside table. The perk of being a working woman was having a little cash to do some online shopping. When she got back to the bed she ordered Alaska to put her hands above her head.

“I’m not going to restrain you but you will keep your hands there, right?”

Alaska nodded, but at this point Katya was pretty sure she’d agree to anything just to be touched.

Katya clicked on the vibrator she’d just bought and watched Alaska’s eyes widen at the sensation on her inner thigh. Katya moved her hand in a circle, still careful not to get too close to between Alaska’s legs. She pushed her knees open a little further and drew closer and closer.

“Fuck, Katya.” Alaska gasped, and she was practically dripping already. Katya took her time before finally spreading her lips and placing the device on her clit. It added a whole new layer to their routine of mouths and hands. It didn’t take long before she was coming on top of Katya’s fingers and her handy new toy.

Needless to say, that was an online purchase worth the extra shipping.

——–

“Alaska?” Katya asked. It was the middle of the night, and her and Alaska were cuddled up in bed.

“Yeah?” Alaska responded, obviously awake.

“What is it like when you shift out?”

“Oh.” Alaska seemed surprised, like she never expected questions about her condition. Fair enough, she probably liked to pretend she was normal. Despite that, she still explained. “I guess it’s like, I’m here but my physical body is gone. And my consciousness kind of floats unless I really focus. Like, I’m aware of everything going on but the passage of time is meaningless and it all blurs together. “

“That sounds terrifying.”

“It kind of is. When I’m out, I’m trapped, and then it really feels like being a ghost. Sometimes there are flashes from when I was alive, or even current memories. Everything in my head is just magnified.”

“Have you been shifting lately?” It had been on Katya’s mind. She’d never gotten home from work or woken up without Alaska here anymore.

“Barely. Like I said, I don’t have much control over it most of the time. I think I could choose to shift out, but it’s not easy to shift in. Lately, I’ve mostly been here. Maybe with an hour or two every few days out.”

“I’m glad you’ve been here.” Katya whispered and pressed a kiss onto Alaska’s shoulder.

————

When Katya awoke, Alaska was getting dressed. She’d pulled on a blouse and a skirt, but the god-awful sweater she’d first appeared in was slung across her arm.

“Don’t you want to throw that thing out, it’s stained and you’re the one that says my clothes are gross.” Katya said jokingly from her position on the bed.

“I might need it.” Alaska said vaguely, fingering the worn fabric.

“For what? You don’t get cold, do you?” At least Katya didn’t think she did. Alaska never complained about the temperature and the apartment was always either too hot or too cold.

“It was Sharon’s.” Alaska admitted like her walls had been cracked. It was just a hoodie.

Katya didn’t really know how to reply to that.

“Do you know why you haven’t moved on?” She asked out of the blue, except somehow right on topic.

“No.” Alaska was closed off again.

Katya could tell that was as much as she was going to get from the conversation, so she let it go. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know, anyways.

——–

Trixie was tired. Her boss had been overly demanding, her coworkers were annoying, and she needed to take some time for herself. So she pulled out her phone a shot off a text to Katya.

Do you want to go out dancing tonight?

A few seconds later she got a reply.

Sorry, me and Alaska are hanging out tonight

Of course they were. Trixie was happy that Katya had finally found someone, she really was. The woman spent way too much time inside alone, and since she’d gotten together with Alaska, Trixie could tell she was much happier. It’s just that she was never around anymore. Granted, Katya had been barely present before, but she didn’t even see Trixie or Tatianna occasionally now. Never mind that, the slut was probably busy getting fingerbanged by her new girlfriend and Trixie didn’t need her.

Have fun ;) She typed back before heading out alone. It was just going to be for a couple of hours so she could dance away the stress eating at her.

So a couple hours turned into four. People kept buying her drinks, and she was having a good time even though she was alone. She let the music just fill her up and erase everything that had been bothering her lately.

Later in the night, Trixie went to the bathroom, careful to finish her drink before leaving the bar. When she opened the door, there was a girl with long, voluminous black hair and injection-plump lips sitting on the bathroom floor. She looked very out of it, and Trixie helped the girl to her feet.

“Thanks.” The stranger slurred as she stood. She was absolutely wasted and Trixie needed to support her weight to keep her from tumbling back to her spot on the floor. “Anyone ever told you that you look like Barbie?” The girl remarked, barely meeting her eye.

“All the time.” It was the blonde hair and admittedly doll-like makeup. Trixie really didn’t mind though, Barbie had always been her childhood idol. “Do you need help getting home?” She asked the girl, trying not to encourage her to speak too much.

“Home? What does that even mean?”

Oh no. She was obviously an emotional drunk. Trixie thought it would probably be best to get out before the tears started, but the stranger continued.

“I had a home, a small little apartment in the complex on the corner of Marlborough and Haringway, 519, and it was tiny but I had her and that’s all I needed. Well, her and the drinking and the drugs.”

“I think you’re really drunk, and you probably shouldn’t be telling me any of this.” Trixie tried to get the woman not to divulge her entire personal life. She’d probably regret it in the morning.

“No Barbie, I trust you. I’m Sharon, by the way.”

“I’m Trixie.” She reluctantly offered.

“I’m not gonna remember that, Barbie.” Sharon paused. “Can I bum a cig?”

“Sorry, I don’t-

“I shouldn’t smoke anyways. Alaska always wanted me to stop smoking. It was pretty hypo, hypocriti, you know what I mean, because she didn’t smoke but she still ended up dead.”

Fuck, this girl was messed up. Trixie was a little out of her depth.

“Is there anyone I can call for you, Sharon?”

“No, Alaska’s dead. It’s been a year to the day since I found her strewn out on the bathroom floor. She was beautiful, but not like in the movies. There was vomit on the hoodie I lent her but her hair was all shiny and blonde still. You know, it���s funny because I dumped her but she left me.”

“Can I call you an uber? Are you gonna be ok?” At this point Trixie was a bit worried and wanted to make sure this girl got home safely.

“I’m always ok.” She leaned her head against Trixie’s chest. “You know, for a plastic girl you’re pretty soft.”

It might have been sweet if she hadn’t thrown up all over Trixie’s shoes seconds later.

She called an uber and managed to load the wasted girl into the car. She stayed with her until they reached Sharon’s apartment and when girl fumbled with her keys Trixie took them from her and opened the door. The apartment was a bit of a dump, but not un-liveable. So much for the “what even is a home?” comments earlier. This was a fine place to live. The girl was just upset,Trixie could understand that. The one-year anniversary of a girlfriend’s death was probably enough of an excuse for anyone to get piss drunk. At least she didn’t seem high, so Trixie wasn’t too worried.

It was only once she had brought Sharon home and tucked her into her apartment safely that Trixie realized that Sharon had said she used to live in apartment 519 in Katya’s building. That was Katya’s apartment. And what a coincidence that her dead girlfriend had been named Alaska just like Katya’s new lover.

Maybe Trixie was a little bit more drunk and delusional than she’d previously thought because suddenly, despite all logical reasoning, those things didn’t seem like much of a coincidence.

[canaryatlaw]

Well, I can't really give today an overall grade because it was kind of all over the place, good and bad in just different ways. Woke up, 10:50, and didn't want to get out of bed, and may have drifted back to sleep for just a few minutes but I opened my eyes again and it was 10:50 so I said okay I better get up so I did. Got to the DV courthouse and waiting till around 2 o clock to get a case, and while I was waiting I was just you know staring at my appellate brief and trying to fix minor things. My plan right now is to finish my final final sweep through tomorrow then send it to kinkos to get it print and bound because they're making us do that for some reason (because all law students just have all that extra money lying around, you know 🙄) but anyway my spring break friend and I get put on the case together again because of the timing and we didn't know if we'd get another, but if we did he'd pull one of us off (nobody else came in so we did the whole thing). Pretty typical case, asshole abusive boyfriend doing typical abusive asshole things, no kids in common, no real physical abuse up until this morning when he was kind of grabbing and shoving her and physically blocking her from leaving her apartment like back and forth between different doors for a fairly significant amount of time. It was the strongest case because the prior incidents were kind of weak, mostly just him yelling in her face and that kind of thing, but I thought we had a decent chance at least depending on what judge we'd get. We were super quick with the paperwork and were up in court by like 3:15, so I was like oh sweet we're gonna get out so early!! WELL. Little did I know I was entering the most frustrating courtroom I've ever been in. I've been before this judge only once before I think and it was while she was training, and I remember her striking me as a little awkward with litigants but she was still getting used to it and plus she's gotta be like, 30 max, because she looks sooooooo young (I mean, she's probably more like 35, because nobody ascends to the bench in 5 years, but you would never guess that as her age looking at her). So that tends to play into the whole insecurity thing which leads to overposturing, and she was just so fucking infuriating because she was incredibly condescending to every single person on such an unnecessary level and wanted to control everything, and would only let people answer yes or no and cut them off whenever they tried to expound on something and be condescending to them and I'm like.....what the heck, lady??? These are like, the simplest legal proceedings ever, you ask them who the person is to them, when the last incident happened, and what happened. That's literally all you have to do. But it was so fucking infuriating to watch I wanted to bang my head against the wall repeatedly. But OH, we're just getting to the good part now. So a solid hour later our petition finally gets called, and within 30 seconds of her being up there the judge is saying some shit about an address being in the wrong place on the petition for where the guy had last lived because he hadn't "lived" there he was just "staying over" so she's like yeah you have to go back down to the clerk's office and amend your petition. So both me and my friend are like 😡😡😡😡😡 ready to like kill someone. So we run back downstairs, it's like 4:30 at this point which is when our shift is supposed to end so there's barely anyone left, but we found our supervisor and the other lawyer he works with and they took one look at our faces and were just like "okay what happened" and when we told them they were like "are you fucking serious" (like I mean those exact words exited both of their mouths). So we had to go drag a clerk over and fucking scratch off the address with a pen and write unknown to satisfy this damn judge then go back up. We were debating asking out supervisor to go back up with us since he's an attorney and can actually step up, but he said he felt like the situation was handled from there but we could come get him if we had any more issues. He also said we could swap out at that point if we wanted since our shifts were supposed to be over and he knows we had class, but we decided we wanted to see it through (and emailed our prof that we might be a bit late). So we went back up, and I was like praying that because it was a recalled case they would just stick it on top of the like to be called next like I've seen done before, but NOPE we got sent back to the bottom of the stack, and spent another entire hour being fucking infuriated with this judge acting like a complete asshole to everyone. There was this whole big thing, and I feel weird saying this because the guy was like 6'2" and significantly bigger than me but like that poor guy haha I felt so bad for him, the judge was like fixated on whether his roommate kicked his door all the way in and off the hinges and then he went into the living room or if she partially kicked it in and then he opened it and went into the living room and I was like......WHAT THE HELL COULD IT POSSIBLY MATTER like that holds zero legal significance whatsoever??? The guy ended up storming out in what I thought was completely justifiable frustration but I think he was gonna be able to get his case recalled sometime after us. So finally they get around to us, she asks her basic questions, takes one look at the affidavit I wrote and granted the order immediately, because it was THAT EASY. Like, look how overcomplicated you made this and you just wasted like 2 and 1/2 hours of my life. So I was at least glad we got it granted because if it didn't get granted I probably would've gone ballistic on that courtroom, lol. So we end up leaving the courthouse at like 5:50 which is right when class starts, so we jump on the train and then make a quick stop at the jimmy johns that's right by school because we were both starving and it's literally the fasted option, lol. I think we made it to class by 6:10, so not bad at all. Our prof was understanding, my email said something like "we're stuck in an ongoing situation with a judge and we don't know how much longer it's gonna take" so then on break he was like "so judges, huh?" and we were just like "oh you don't even want to know" lol. The class was fine, as usual I somewhat paid attention and did other things. The big take away from the class was that instead of having to make my presentation for the class that I haven't started at all next week, I get to do it the week after because of how the scheduling worked out (he said he was doing it by last name and it wouldn't take up two class periods, and my last name starts with M which is right in the middle so I thought I'd be on the first day, but apparently the roster is early in the alphabet heavy so I majorly lucked out there, and that actually makes everything so much better, because this week into weekend (and it's Easter weekend ffs) was gonna be hell working on the presentation and the trial on back to back days. So now I can just focus on the trial for the next week which makes me feel soooooo much better. I messaged my trial ad partner and asked what he needed me to get done for our Pretrial conference tomorrow and he was like "oh you're good I got it all covered" and I was like dude you're actually the best haha because that helps so much. In addition to a few other things I accomplished during class, I reviewed the trial brief of one of my mentees that she asked me to take a look out since we had the same LARC prof. It was interesting, looking at how she was like structuring things and I'm thinking "did I used to write like that?" And I find myself leaving comments that kind of sound like what the prof would say to me last year and I'm just like shit man, maybe I did actually get better at this stuff over the years, even if I still get incredibly frustrated with it. She had a lot of good stuff in there, it just needed to be reorganized and such and built into a more cohesive argument (which like, continues to be one of my biggest issues because I think the way they want me to organize it makes no sense and I much prefer my way, as does my REAL boss in REAL court, but I digress) so hopefully I was able to give her some good feedback. We ended a little after 8 which was nice, and I made it home a little after 9. No shows recorded, so I watched crazy ex-girlfriend for a bit and relaxed and laughed over the whole starbursts thing that came to fruition today which I have to say put me in a significantly better mood than my just being done with the day. I did realize though I had to get some forms and shit done for trial ad and field placement, so I had to run around and fill those out then like, extract multiple pages from several pdf documents and then combine those into own pdf document because whoever wanted us to submit these online clearly had no idea what they were doing. But yeah, that was my crazy day. Overall the good probably outweighed the bad, but I was just like, so absolutely done with everything about that hell in court. Big girl job tomorrow and doing a big girl permanency hearing, so that should be good, I'll get to meet the client beforehand and talk to her about anything she wants to be brought up so I'm looking forward to that. And yeah, damn it's late and I now have somewhat less than 6 hours of sleep I can potentially get, so I think that's strong enough incentive to end here. Goodnight my loves. Stay strong.

[kuriquinn]

The Importance of Being Shin [3/?]

General Disclaimer

This chapter has been beta-read by: Sakura's Unicorn

"Oh, hey! There you are, Sai. Come in."

The directive comes from somewhere behind a wall of white; as usual, the Seventh Hokage is buried in paperwork up to his whiskers. Sai steps lightly into the office, closing the door behind him.

It's been over a week since he encountered Sasuke Uchiha while out on a personal errand, but it's the first time he's had a spare minute to get out of the house since then. Between Ino's incessant need for food, sex, or reassurances that she's still pretty, Sai has barely had the time to go to work let alone make what amounts to a social call, albeit with the Hokage.

Naruto clears a space in front of him, moving one of the large piles, and Sai raises an eyebrow. "You look like shit," he tells him honestly.

Naruto scowls. "At least I have an excuse. You were born looking like a creep."

"There's an awful lot of frustration in your voice," Sai notes. "Are you having enough sexual intercourse? Irritability is one of the first signs of –"

"Finish that sentence and I'll have you cleaning chewing gum off the desks at the Academy for the rest of your life – believe it!" Naruto threatens.

Sai smirks. "Whatever you say, Dickless."

"Can anyone on your team even pretend to respect this office?" Shikamaru lurks in the background, probably to make sure Naruto actually reads the documents he's supposed to. Sai also suspects that the Hokage's advisor routinely uses his shadow jutsu to keep Naruto from collapsing over his papers. "None of the other Hokage's advisors ever had to deal with this."

"Well, you could take a page out of Gai-sensei's book and challenge me to a duel every morning, but that's not exactly your style, is it?" Naruto sniggers and then abruptly shuts up as his body goes rigid. "Hey! Shikamaru, man! Come on!"

"We have business to discuss," his advisor reminds him, not even trying to sound patient as his shadow pins the Hokage in place. "And I'd like to get out of here before nine o'clock for once, so could we get on with it?"

"Ah, now I see who wears the pants in this relationship," Sai remarks, earning sour looks from both men even as Shikamaru releases Naruto.

"He's right, though," the blond man says grudgingly, his demeanour turning serious. "I assume Sasuke did his usual cryptic routine and didn't tell you anything?"

"You assume correctly."

Sasuke only offered him hints, but Sai still has contacts. His former Root comrades – the reformed ones who aren't serving prison sentences or dead – hear things. Because he has the ear of the Hokage, he is, in a way, an unofficial link between the old world and the new. So, they still pass information on to him in the hopes of preserving the greater good in Konoha.

Root is nothing but a distant memory now, and the children who suffered there have long since been rehabilitated through the care and effort of Sakura and her clinic. Which means there's only a specific group of children who would benefit from Sai's experience.

A specific, dangerous group of children…

His teammates filled him in on the Shin Uchiha incident long ago – of the lingering remnants of Orochimaru's experiments and countless emotionless clones with fully active Mangekyō Sharingan.

Sai shudders at that.

It's the army Danzo would have killed to possess had he lived.

Beyond Naruto's optimistic plans for the future, he hasn't heard much about how the clones are adjusting to the orphanage. But given the suspected nature of this meeting, he supposes he's about to find out.

Naruto appears to sense his thoughts.

"Listen, if you want to say no, I totally get it," the Hokage tells him with the air of someone resigned to hear the worst. "I know that things are busy for you right now with the baby coming and all. You probably want to spend as much time with Ino and your kid as possible."

"Perhaps you might tell me what the job is first before giving me the option to back out," Sai suggests. "Is that now how one is meant to preface the assignment of an unpleasant duty?"

"It's not unpleasant exactly," Naruto hedges with a minor twitch, "but it would be…challenging."

"Konoha will be accepting three of the Uchiha clones on a trial basis to see if integration is possible," Shikamaru says. "They're going to need an instructor."

For other members of Konoha's ninja elite, this would not be an unreasonable request, but Sai isn't exactly anyone's first choice for mentoring the city's youth. His upbringing inside Danzo Shimura's organization still casts a long shadow, and while people might be more at ease around him than certain other reformed shinobi, they would still prefer Sai not be the one to influence the next generation.

"Protocol dictates their instructor be of jōnin rank," he points out.

"And you and I both know you have more practical experience than half the people serving as jōnin right now," Naruto replies. He holds up several files. "The mission specs are in here if you're interested – official reports and what Sasuke found out – but I think you already know what I'm asking you. These kids need someone to teach them, and I think you're the best candidate for the job."

Even though this is what he expected, Sai is unsure how to answer.

"Wouldn't Kakashi be a more appropriate candidate in this case?" he questions carefully. "His experience with the Sharingan, not to mention his responsibility in training the legendary heroes of the Fourth Great Shinobi War…"

"Kakashi might have all that under his belt, but there are other important experiences he doesn't have," Shikamaru says. "You grew up being a nameless, expendable pawn for a secret organization. Sorry if that was indelicate."

"No, that is a fair assessment," Sai acknowledges.

"It's really not just that," Naruto interjects. "I mean, yeah, your upbringing definitely has some importance, but the reason you're the best person for this job is your relatability."

Sai blinks at this. "I don't understand."

"The reason Kakashi was a good teacher to us was that he understood us on a basic level," Naruto explains. "Sasuke and I were orphans. So was Kakashi. He knew what it was to lose his parents and he knew what it was like to be judged based on something he couldn't control. And he had a soft spot for Sakura because she reminded him of the girl he cared for when he was younger."

"Rin Nohara," Sai remembers. He has heard bits and pieces about Kakashi's past over the years, but has never asked directly; prior to joining Team 7, Danzo required he be familiar with every member's background.

"Yeah. Point is there was something there that let him bond with all of us. With the clone kids, he wouldn't have that," Naruto says. "Not that I'd rule out bringing him in to help. Considering Sasuke's made it clear he wants to be as hands-off as possible on this one, Kakashi might be the only one who can help them deal with their Sharingan issues. But these kids are going to need someone they can go to who can empathize with them…maybe even trust one day."

"I seem to recall it took a while for you and Sakura to trust me. What makes you think the same can't be said for these boys?"

"You're not working for an evil organization anymore, are you?" Naruto shoots back, but without any true malice. Instead, his expression shifts back to serious. "As long as I've known you, you've done your best to learn about what it means to be human. Whether it's from your stupid-ass books or just talking to other people, you know what it's like to start with zero real emotion or feelings – just like these kids. There's no one else in the entire city who has that experience, and that's why you're really the only one I can see succeeding in this task."

They hold each other's gaze for a long while. Naruto breaks it with a tired smile.

"At least, that's how I see it. Like I said before, I get it if you don't want to take this on. I know I'm doing an awesome job selling this –" Shikamaru rolls his eyes. "– but it's not going to be a walk in the park. You say the word and I'll find someone else. It'll be hard, but we've done more difficult things before."

Sai remains quiet for several minutes, thinking over what his friend has said. As much as Naruto tries to hoke about "selling" him on the idea, he is being utterly sincere.

To be honest, Sai is tempted to turn down the job.

As intriguing as it is, he thinks Naruto gives him too much credit. He didn't achieve his current lifestyle by himself.

In some ways, it's Sai's association with Konoha's current Sannin and his membership within the renowned Team 7 that has allowed him to integrate into city affairs as (relatively) easily as he has. That and his wife's imposing nature.

Sai never realised that becoming the husband of Ino Yamanaka would lead to so many opportunities, whether it be choice invitations to social gatherings or establishing healthy work relationships with others. From existing in the shadows without even a name, Sai has become an actual upstanding member of the community.

With a job and everything.

When Sai was younger, he never would have dreamed that he would grow up to be the head city planner of the Leaf village. Instead of wetwork and black ops, he designs buildings and monuments to showcase Konoha's distinct spirit. All of his paintings have names now, and he's even sold a few to collectors.

And then, of course, there are the changes that he attributes to becoming a father.

Inojin is a perplexing child. It's as if every quality of Ino's that Sai finds mystifying and everything she doesn't understand about him were mixed together to create this…peculiar, amazing and completely separate individual; one that Sai loves with his entire heart, a sensation he never experienced before.

Nor did he ever truly expect to experience it again and yet, in a month or so, there's going to be another tiny, new life in their home. A daughter, the scans say. He's admitted only to Ino (and Sakura because she's always had a unique gift of getting him to talk about his feelings) how terrified he is of the prospect.

"You'll be fine," his friend and former teammate told him months ago when he first expressed these doubts. "You've done a great job with Inojin and, if you have any problems, you have so many people who would help you out." A surprisingly true fact.

But Naruto was right earlier; Sai would much rather be preparing for his daughter's birth, enjoying his wife and son, and planning Konoha's cityscape than embarking on what sounds like a long, complicated mentorship.

However…

There is a very strong part of him that knows he would not forgive himself for putting his happiness in front of the needs of three young boys – especially those who have been raised in not entirely dissimilar circumstance to him.

It is a testament to his friendship with Naruto, Sakura, and even Sasuke over the years that he could feel this empathy.

"I appreciate your offer to find someone else, however, you're correct," Sai says. "These boys will not develop in an environment where they are surrounded by the reminders of their past. In Root, we were forced to become desensitized to the deaths of our brothers. It was something we were required to learn. These clones have had it practically bred into them."

Naruto brightens. "So you'll do it?"

"Yes."

"Great," Naruto says, relief evident in his voice. "To be honest, I really didn't have a back-up if you didn't take it."

"You're not exactly known for your contingency plans," Sai adds.

"You won't start with them right away," Shikamaru says, also sounding relieved. "Once they're in the village, they'll need to undergo mandatory psychiatric evaluations."

"And they need to be instructed in the shinobi way," Naruto adds. "They'll have to attend lessons of some sort, but that probably won't take too long. "

"They have Sharingan, as well as more practical experience than most chūnin, so that should cut the time short. According to Kabuto's reports, they are highly intelligent, so the usual five years of Academy instruction won't be required."

"Which is a good thing because I don't want them around too many people just yet," Naruto says firmly. "Just because they're geniuses doesn't mean they have the right skills to get along with other kids."

"A situation which you would know nothing about," Sai notes, thinking of the stories his teammates have told him about Naruto's academic performance; the term 'dead-last' comes to mind.

"Watch it!"

"I am merely offering an observation that Sasuke would be making if he were here and not changing diapers," Sai says dismissively. "Speaking of, this is a matter of the Uchiha, isn't it? Shouldn't their new clan head be here? Inojin has been talking about the news for a month now."

Naruto makes a face.

"Usually? Yeah. But this was all decided before Sarada officially took over. Sasuke said something about not bringing old world thinking into the new clan or some angsty bullshit like that," Naruto complains, earning a discreet cough from Shikamaru. "Anyway, whatever his logic is, I happen to agree that Sarada shouldn't be burdened with too much of this until she's more accustomed to her responsibilities."

"And there are many," Sai says. "Quite a lot for a girl her age. Inojin is having his own difficulties simply shadowing Ino these days. For Sarada to take all of those duties on…"

"Well, it's an Uchiha thing, I think – they're all goddamn overachievers," Naruto says, although there's affection and pride there rather than criticism.

"Honestly, I'd rather she be an overachieving bureaucrat than become head of ANBU at thirteen," Shikamaru notes. "Because that turned out so well the last time."

It's a sobering sentiment and the three of them exchange grim looks.

None of them knew the truth about Itachi Uchiha until after the war – during, in Naruto's case – but they were all affected by choices he made. None of them want to see their children experience the same difficult decisions he faced.

Sai decides he doesn't like the tension in the room. Social protocol demands a change in subject, or so he's been trained by his wife to believe.

"Where will the boys be staying?" he asks, half-expecting Naruto to suggest something ridiculous like hosting all of them at the Hokage's residence. Hinata would probably let him, too; the woman is still utterly besotted, even after all these years.

There's a knock from outside the office and Naruto grins. "Funny you should ask that. Come in!"

The door swings open, revealing a familiar, weary-looking face.

"Yamato?" Sai asks, the question directed to both Naruto and the former interim leader of Team 7.

"Lord Seventh," Yamato says in greeting. Of everyone formerly on Team 7, he's the only one who ever refers to Naruto by his title even when they are speaking informally. "Anko Mitarashi just relieved me of my surveillance duties and directed me to come see you." He then nods at the others. "Shikamaru. Sai."

"Oh, yeah. I needed to talk to you," Naruto says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"Something that couldn't be conveyed via messenger bird?"

"This is better said in person," Naruto shrugs. "There's a situation that's come up that I need to know your thoughts on. If you're interested, Anko will temporarily take over your assignment."

"She's been retired for years," Yamato says in mild protest.

"Don't let her obsession with sweets fool you – she's still lethal," he warns. "And crazy. More importantly, she knows the old snake's habits pretty well."

"Are my abilities in question?"

"No. That's not it at all. In fact, I have another job in mind for you."

Yamato, Sai notes, has the sense to look at least slightly worried.

つづく

クリ

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