#let it be known that storm is bi

[ffverr]

TRUST that the day I actually get to read this issue is the day I will become fully insane

[idkimnotreal]

i think a bi guy might want something from me. i don't know if he's closeted.

[bairdthereader]

Nick gets a lot of (well-deserved) credit for being an amazing boyfriend to Charlie, and we know by now that he's a great friend, too. But what's almost more interesting to me is the underlying core personality trait that enables him to be both of those things--his emotional intuition and intelligence.

You see this in the comics mostly through Nick's facial expressions (no one can look worried like Nick Nelson can), but the show takes it a bit further. He's incredibly in tune with Charlie almost from the get-go. Nick watches him for small emotional cues and recognizes what they could mean, most notably before the confrontation with Ben after rugby practice. He reads between the lines of Charlie's deflections and falsely cheerful texts and pushes (with trademark Nick Nelson sensitivity) for the truth. He notices when Charlie is beset with intrusive thoughts, even if he doesn't know (at least early on) what they're about, and proceeds to interrupt those thoughts. He can read Charlie so well not only because he pays attention, real attention, but because he already has the emotional intuition required to interpret Charlie's inner complexities.

There are many moments throughout the show where we see Nick display this keen insight with everyone in his life, not just Charlie. When Elle, who he barely knows at this point, is upset about being set up with Tao, he immediately seeks to alleviate her distress by offering a true explanation of why she and Tao were invited in the first place--to be part of a triple date. He wants Elle to know that it was important to him (and Charlie, Tara, and Darcy) that she and Tao be there not just to try to set them up, but because they wanted to include them in an important step for both couples (Nick and Charlie just beginning to share their relationship, and Tara and Darcy trying to find acceptance after coming out as a couple). Nick knows that Elle values truth and honesty, and he gives her that so she can feel comfortable with her friends again.

Nick is also incredibly understanding of Tao, who, it has to be said, barely even understands himself for much of the show. There are a lot of scenes where Nick is trying to connect with Tao but maybe oversteps just a tad because he sees more of Tao than Tao is ready to have seen. The moment outside Charlie's house when Tao tells Nick about Elle's art college ambitions, Nick cuts through to the heart of the matter--Tao's concern about missing Elle if she's far away. Nick is the first person in the friend group to connect the dots about what Elle's college acceptance might mean for Tao, and immediately tries to help Tao process those feelings. He's met with anger, but only because he managed to hit a lightning bolt of a nerve in Tao's emotional storm.

And of course there's Imogen, who Nick has known for a long time but begins to understand and appreciate on a deeper level as their relationship moves from superficial connection to true friendship. He sees how sensitive she is, how lonely in some ways, and is always looking out for her, keeping a concerned eye on her. He gives her the space she requests, but also comfort when she lets her walls down enough to ask for it. His innate understanding of what people need--especially when what they need is just someone to be there--is impeccable.

It almost goes without saying, but Nick's emotional wavelength with his mom is similarly strong and nuanced. When Nick comes out to Sarah, he makes sure she understands how important it is to him that she knows--not only that she knows that he's bi, or that Charlie is his boyfriend, but that she knows him. That their relationship is so important to him that he can overcome his fears to share this most vital part of himself. Nick's value of Sarah extends to caring for her when she's dealing with the stress of having his dad and David around. Of course, Nick is still a teenager and there are a lot of scenes that show Sarah's deft handling of Nick's emotions, but it's a two-way street. Nick takes care of her in his own way too.

Nick starts his relationship with Tara and Darcy leaning on them for advice and guidance, but by the end of the show they're leaning on him. Nick sees their struggles, especially Tara's, possibly more clearly than anyone else does because he recognizes some similarities between their situation and his with Charlie. When they're in trouble, he knows Tara needs care and honest advice, even if it's not the most comforting advice. He knows that what they both need is strength and security and tries, in his careful way, to give them those things.

Nick Nelson, always looking out for everyone he loves, keeping them safe as much as he can, hugging them when he can't.

[rubyvhs]

berry vodka [jo harvelle]

masterlist

summary; too many shots lead to the confession you’ve been keeping inside for seven months. tags; bi!fem!reader, angst, fluff, insecurities in sexuality but no details, not proofread. — verse: berry vodka next part (smut)

“C’mon, Dean, I’ve done everything you’ve asked for, I’ve tried—”

“Wasn’t enough if the demon’s still out there!” His voice is so clear it makes me shake. I’ve known Dean for years and years, he’s hardly ever raised his voice at me. No one respects women more than he and his brother do, and not once have they yelled at me no matter what I did— and now he’s screaming, for what? Because I let some demon outsmart me for two seconds?

I scoff and storm out of the bedroom we were fighting in. It was a stupid hunt right next to Ellen’s hence why we’re staying at the roadhouse for the week, so i end up at the bar. 

Thankfully, so is my favorite blond. “Hey, Jo.” She smiles wide, waving, and in return dropping the shot glass in her hands to the counter.

“Hi, berry. You’ve been kind of hot and heavy with Dean these days. You okay?” I roll back so I’m sitting straight. 

“Thanks,” I blow a kiss when she hands me a Berry Vodka, “we’re ‘kay, he’s just being an asshole.” 

She agrees with me (though I’ve yet to tell her what he’s being an asshole about) which makes me lean forward on the bar. “I mean, I’m his friend and you’d think that after hunting together for so long he’d stop blaming me for guys hitting on me.”

Her eyes widen and this time she almost drops the glass on accident, though it’s hardly a close call as she easily regains her composure. “He— what?” 

“What?”

“Dean what?”

“He got mad at me?”

“For guys flirting?”

“Yes.”

“Why—” she clears her throat and looks back down at her work, still moving, “why would he— why? Is he like— does he like you?”

“Does Dean—” I let out a laugh, “does Dean like me? Did hell freeze over? No, of course not. He’s not jealous, he’s overprotective. He’s being an ass but he isn’t in love with me.”

“Good,” she lets out a small breath and my heart seizes. Yeah, of course it’s good. Jo’s always been in love with Dean, him liking me would cause a bit of an issue. “I mean— whatever. Yeah. Anyways, why’s he fighting with you anyways?”

“I let a demon go. Thought he was an overly eager guy so I sent him on his way.”

“How’s that your fault?”

“He… might have mentioned he’s a demon— but I thought he was trying to be funny or something, I didn’t know he actually was one. Turns out he wanted to find Sam and Dean. He has something on Yellow Eyes.”

“You guys getting close, then?” One quick nod. The heavy alcohol in the drink burns as I try to finish as much of it as possible at once. I hand it back to Jo and ask for just shots. “You sure?” Another nod.

I need to let go tonight if I’ll be awake and attentive with the guys tomorrow on their wild goose chase. She hands me one shot and I shake my head. She furrowed her eyebrows. “C’mon Jo, I’ll pay.”

“That’s not it and you know it. You can’t drink.” 

“What does that even—” she glared at me and maybe, okay, so sometimes I get a little crazy when I’m drunk but so what? I just flirt and dance, it isn’t like I hurt anyone. Besides, waking up with someone in my bed tomorrow could maybe solve all my problems. “Let me have it, Jo. I just need one night, I deserve it.” That seems like the magic word for everyone in my life at the moment. 

I die for Dean once and suddenly I have a free pass for the rest of my life. If I’d known, I would’ve died for the jackass sooner. Sam brought me back the same day but still— everyone lets me have it.

She stares at me like she’s contemplating it and then gives in with a sigh. From that point on I’m being served shot after shot and I’m more than sure my tab is so high I won’t be able to pay half of it when the night ends. Jo starts serving me much cheaper brands as the night went on— I’m sure she knows that too.

Three shots later, I’m still sober enough to taste the vodka cheapening. “Jooo,” I draw out her name, “you’re not doin’ enough! I need to get drunk, not bored.”

“Slow down, honey.” I shake my head though my ears heat up at the endearment. No time for that now. Two shots more and I’m officially buzzed. Buzzed enough to not notice Dean sit down next to me. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” I shake my head quickly and stand up mumbling something about it being a good night and he seems to take the rejection well, sitting in place as I walk to the empty pool table. 

Immediately as I’m racking the balls up, someone’s hands are on my waist. “You wanna give me a round, honey?” And because I literally have nothing better to do, I let the Sam-height, almost Cass-level-hot guy play pool with me.

His facial hair covers most of his face, which actually looks way too good, but his blue eyes look really really beautiful and I can’t stop staring. “Yes. Yeah.” He smirks and moves his hands away.

“What are we playing for?” I almost answer, I’m not sure what to say, before his deep voice comes from behind me. His hands aren’t on my waist, but he might as well swallow me whole if he’ll make me feel this small. 

“A hundred bucks, how about that, man?” 

“And who are you?”

“Her friend.” Dean has a hand on my shoulder. Asking loudly enough for the other guy to hear, “you mind me playin’, sweetheart?” 

Obviously, I shake my head and we get started. I’m winning so far, the guy— Stefan or something— is downright embarrassing at the game. Dean is letting me and I’m drunk enough to not care. Three more hits and i sigh. “I want drinks.”

Stefan perks up from his round, “I’ll go get ‘em. What do you drink, honey?” He asked for my name ages ago and I gave it but he doesn’t seem to like it.

“I will go get them.” Dean decides and taps the taller man’s shoulder once. That’s smart. I’m not sure why it is— but it is. Stefan’s closer now. Too close.

“I like girls.” I whisper, or blurt, or something that means I say it so fast and so low that I don’t hear or understand it myself.

“You— what?”

“I’m into girls. M’sorry. You’re so close. M’not kissing you.”

“Yeah, I— I wasn’t.” He furrowed his eyebrows but I just shrugged and moved further back. “Did I make you uncomfortable?” I mean, he asked me if I wanted another round by trapping me into the pool table.

I must’ve said it outloud because, “I didn’t trap you, I mean, I held you but that’s because you were kinda off your feet. I apologize if—”

“Oh. M’sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. It isn’t your fault.”

“Good.” I smile and move closer now. He’s warm when I’m not worried he’s trying to get in my pants. I’m not exclusively into girls— only half way, I’m bi, but it seemed like the easiest way to disgust and run away a man.

We talk, enough for me to know his dogs name and for him to know that Dean means well, he’s just worried because I’m drunk, and that he isn’t my boyfriend. 

“You sure? Does he know that?” I glance over at the hunter, speaking to Jo with those twinkling green eyes.

I nod once and tell him we should keep playing. Dean seems occupied. We keep going and set the balls up evenly again. The first round I’ve won two hundred from both men, then we decided to play for nothing and I’m regretting it cause I could’ve really made my bill if I kept receiving money with the way I’m winning. 

“You’re good.” He’s sweet. I get his number and we talk— promise to keep in touch for when I come back to town and just as he’s about to leave I catch up with him.

“Stefan,” I call out once and then I trip over something. Faster than light, I’m already draped over his arm. Falling and whatever. He wants to say something but I quickly straighten up to kiss him, moving my fingers through his hair. He seems to enjoy that, pulling me closer. Then he pulls away.

“How much have you been drinking?”

“What?” That’s not a question you ask someone that’s sleeping with you. Or planning to.

“How many drinks?”

“I— I don’t know like so little,” he shakes his head, “only five.”

“Five?”

“Shots.” He lets out a scoff and walks me back to the bar. I’m sure I’m pouting by both the looks on Dean and Jo’s faces and by the pull of my mine. And maybe Stefan’s laugh. He hands me off to them and I wave at him. He makes me promise to call tomorrow and I nod. “He was so nice. Why don’t nice guys go for me?” I groan, banging my head against the wood of the bar softly. 

“That’s not true.” I know it’s Jo who says that which makes it even worse. Of course you’d think that. You’re trying to get me to leave so you can suck Dean’s face off. It’s not fair. He gets all the girls. Always. Even the ones I really like. 

“Whatever.” I take out the two hundred and hand it to Jo. “Keep it.”

“Berry, that’s a hundred and twenty five tip.”

I shrug and stand out of the chair. “M’gonna go to sleep.” Heading up the stairs proves to be a lot harder than i initially planned and so I just give up halfway through and sit down with my head in my hands and tears flowing too fast for me to comprehend why they’re there. This sucks. Having feelings suck. Why can’t I be an angel or demon or something devoid of emotions? Why can’t I be heartless like— I don’t know— Dean! 

“Ouch, sweetheart.” I need to stop speaking my thoughts out loud. “I agree with you there. What’s wrong, berry?” 

“I hate that stupid nickname.”

He frowns, sitting down next to me, a step below. “Why’s that?”

“‘Cause she came up with it and s’not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“That she likes you. She always likes you. And I like you too, De, but this is so annoying like why can’t she love me! Why am I not enough to love? S’it ‘cause I’m not a man? I don’t wanna be a stupid man, I like being a girl. Why can’t girls just like me without me being a guy!” I cant even comprehend the words before they’re out and I just wish Dean would hold me and comfort me. Or maybe make Jo fall in love with me magically.

“Who likes me, berry?”

“Jo! Stupid Jo! And I’ve been the best friend ever and she still doesn’t like me. She’ll never like me and it’s ‘cause I’m a girl.” Deans beautiful face scrunches up into a frown and he shakes his head.

“D’ya tell her you like her?” No. “Well there you go. You need to tell her so you can know if she likes you back or not.”

“N’what if she doesn’t?”

“I’ll still love you.” I smile at the words, “and Jo will always be your friend.” Who are you and what have you done with Dean? “Oh, shut up.”

“Dean,” I whisper after a moment. “Can you tell Jo?” 

He shakes his head.

“Can Sam tell her?” He shakes his head again.

“Tell who what?” Oh that’s Jo.

“Tell you I like you.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dean leave a room, or staircase, as fast as he just did. Ever. “Like you like you. Like i want to kiss you all day and I want to hold you— but I can’t ‘cause you like Dean.”

Her eyes are still wide which probably mean she hates me now but my legs aren’t working so I don’t stand up, just wallow in my  guilt and failure in front of her. 

“Berry, you mean it?” I nod once but keep my head down. Her soft fingers hook under my chin and I look up at her. She’s closer now. Very very much closer. Close enough for me to taste the vanilla perfume i got for her last birthday. She’s close enough to—

Jo’s kissing me. Jo Harvelle’s lips are moving against mine, gentle, but desperate. Hard and soft. Everything all at once and it’s better than I could’ve imagined. I think it’s so good i forget to kiss back because she stops to backtrack, small stutters of I’m sorry and I shouldn’t so I quickly stand up (wow, my legs are back) and kiss her a little too roughly I slip my tongue in there. 

“Jo,” I moan against her mouth and she nods but doesn’t acknowledge it. I’m sobering up. Too sober to be in a situation I’ve imagined a thousand times a day for the past seven months. 

“Jo, bedroom— please.” She nods quicker this time and pulls away enough for me to breathe and take the image of her kiss-flushed face in. She’s everything I’ve ever imagined and needed but I can’t do this.

“Jo, I can’t—” she stops right in front of her room. “I don’t— I love you. And I can be here for you if you’re… I don’t know experimenting but, you need to tell me. I can’t just be a phase, Jo.”

“M’not. C’mon, hey,” she presses another kiss on my lips, slow, “I love you too. You know that. You must’ve known that I’ve loved you ever since you and those idiots came into the roadhouse, but you’re just, you know so much and I didn’t know if you’d ever want someone who doesn’t even know their own sexuality or—”

Now it’s my turn to shut her up with a kiss and I push us into her room. “Shut up. So are we—”

“Yes.” She smiles against me. “You’re mine, berry.”

[chiqelatasblog]

CHAPTER SEVEN : UNEXPECTED BONDS

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Chapter Six link is here.

Pairing : Sub Zero / Bi-Han x Reader

Summary : Your brother’s letter heightens your anxiety about the mission, reaffirming your loyalty to the Tengu. However, you’re also growing unexpectedly fond of Bi-Han and his clan, who offer you a sense of openness and acceptance. Caught between these two clans, you feel the pressure mounting from both sides.

Author’s Note : Hi guys, I’m a lawyer in my country and opened my own office after spending four years being part of another law firm. Recently, I’ve started receiving cases, which made me extremely happy. However, it’s also been quite stressful because now all the responsibility lies on me. As a result, I haven’t had much time to focus on this story. I apologize for the delay.

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Seven years ago…

“I expected more from you on this mission,” your father’s voice resonated within his study, where you stood across from him. He remained seated behind his desk, his tone devoid of emotion, engrossed in the paperwork he hadn’t lifted his head from since your arrival.

“I apologize for the disappointment,” you responded in the same detached tone. Once again, your failure to meet expectations left your face expressionless, though inside, a storm brewed, betrayed only by the tight grip of your clenched fists. He didn’t bother to acknowledge you; it seemed you weren’t worth his attention.

“Your apologies hold no weight, daughter,” your father remarked, briefly glancing up from his papers. His furrowed brows and exasperated sigh only fueled your frustration. “If you sustain injuries on such a simple task, it’s evident you still have much to learn.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” you retorted dryly, the physical wound on your arm insignificant compared to the emotional wounds his words inflicted.

“I didn’t mention pain. As an assassin, you’re expected to endure,” his voice sent a shiver down your spine, but you held your ground, refusing to show weakness. You had silently vowed to yourself long ago not to falter before him, despite the constant struggle to meet his standards. “Did you dispatch the guards while acquiring the relics?”

Your heart skipped a beat; your hesitation to kill was well-known within the clan. Instead, you focused on incapacitating opponents swiftly, avoiding the irreversible act of taking a life. While others found it amusing, to you, it was a matter of principle. Even as you treated all life with reverence, the notion of ending a human life seemed unfathomable. Life was sacred, and you couldn’t bring yourself to extinguish it unless absolutely necessary.

“I asked you a question, (y/n),” your father’s voice broke through your thoughts, causing you to startle. Your heart raced, feeling as if it might leap out of your chest and into the void once more.

“No,” you responded, your heart sinking as you saw the dissatisfaction etched on your father’s face. This mission had been your first solo endeavor, a step away from the watchful eyes of others. Despite its difficulties, you had managed to complete it and return home, albeit with a wound on your arm. You had felt a sense of pride until you faced your father’s disapproval.

The pride you had felt crumbled in an instant upon seeing his disappointment. Your very existence seemed to be a source of frustration for him. You had hoped to prove yourself this time, only to fail once again, fueling your anger towards yourself.

“You may leave. Summon someone to clean the blood you’ve dripped on the floor. You’ve stained the Iranian carpet,” your father’s tone was dismissive. Tears welled in your eyes, clouding your vision, but you held them back, refusing to let them fall. “Yes, sir,” you murmured, offering a slight curtsy before quietly exiting the room.

You attempted to compose yourself, taking deep breaths as you hurried down the wooden-floored corridor. Despite your efforts, a tear escaped and trailed down your cheek. Hastily, you wiped it away with the back of your hand, fearing anyone might witness your vulnerability. You glanced at the wound on your arm, which had slipped your mind in your eagerness to report back to your father upon returning from the mission.

“Another foolish mistake,” you muttered to yourself, frustration bubbling within.

As you withdrew your hand, you stared blankly at the blood staining your fingers, wondering if there was any point in trying. It seemed futile to change your father's opinion of you, knowing that as long as his views remained unchanged, the opinions of others in the clan would follow suit.

Years ago, attempting to prove yourself to someone who had once ordered an assassin to end your life might have seemed absurd to outsiders, but this was the only home you knew. You had no other refuge. Despite the harsh conditions, leaving the clan wasn't an option; betrayal would only lead to your demise. Additionally, venturing beyond Tengu territory meant entering enemy territory controlled by the Lin Kuei, offering no alternative but uncertainty and danger. Without sufficient funds, survival outside the clan's boundaries would be an impossible challenge.

"Haven't managed to please our father again, have you?" your brother's voice interrupted your thoughts, prompting you to don your emotionless mask once more as you regarded him with distant eyes. He smirked, casting a glance at the wound on your arm. "Looks like you could use a few stitches."

"Do you have something to say?" you asked in a monotone voice. "I'm in a hurry."

"In a hurry, are you?" your brother scoffed, the smile fading from his face. "Quite the rush for someone who just returned from a mission."

"Unlike some, I don't have time to waste," you replied icily.

Your brother's demeanor shifted, his crossed arms and intense gaze looming over you. Despite his subtle approach, you felt the threat emanating from him, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your brother moved with the stealth of a snake, silent and cunning. He left no trace in the snow, always poised to strike with his words and undermine your defenses. Engaging with you was one of his preferred pastimes, particularly as you grew stronger with time. He took pleasure in pushing your boundaries and exploiting any weaknesses he could uncover.

“I suggest you pay attention when speaking to me, sister. The future grandmaster stands before you,” your brother’s voice dripped with superiority as he invaded your personal space, gripping your hair and forcing your head back, making eye contact impossible. “A mere word from my lips could determine your fate here.”

“I am well aware of that, brother,” you replied, keeping your voice smooth and composed despite the pain shooting through your injured arm as he grabbed it, causing a stifled moan to escape your lips.

“I’m warning you for the last time, (y/n). My threats are not idle,” he hissed, leaning in close to your ear. “Our father’s time is limited. When the new era dawns, invest wisely.”

With a slight retreat, he studied your expression, knowing he struck a nerve.

“Who knows, perhaps then your position here might improve.’’

16 Hours Ago…

After bidding goodnight to everyone at dinner, you retreated to your room, seeking respite from the day’s weariness.

As you closed the door behind you, a sense of foreboding gripped you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling with unease. A faint rustle from the shadows alerted you to the presence of the crow lurking nearby. Silently, you turned the key in the lock, the soft click echoing in the stillness of the room, ensuring your privacy from prying eyes.

Emerging from the darkness, the crow approached you on noiseless wings, its black feathers blending seamlessly with the shadows. With a steady hand, you extended your palm, feeling the cool rush of air as the bird alighted gracefully, its beady eyes fixed on you, the letter clutched in its beak.

After thanking the crow with a gentle stroke of its non-reflective head, you made it vanish from sight. Sitting at the edge of your bed, your legs trembled with an icy fear threatening to overwhelm you.

With trembling fingers, you broke the seal of the letter, revealing your brother’s familiar handwriting. There were no words of affection; he went straight to the point, as he always did.

(Y/N),

The contents of your letter have left me deeply disappointed. What you gleaned from your interactions holds no significance for our clan; I explicitly instructed you to show courage. Your objective is to impress the grandmaster, not to forge friendships. Remember, you are his wife, and as a woman, you must fulfill the duties expected of you. Failing to do so casts serious doubts on your commitment to this mission.

Pull yourself together and reaffirm your purpose. This is not a mere game; seize this opportunity wisely and rise to meet our expectations. If you cannot identify the clan’s vulnerabilities, you must create them, sister. We do not play by the rules; remember, they are our enemies

Think about our deceased clan members, the countless lives lost, the blood spilled in pursuit of our goals, and the sacrifices endured. Consider what we have lost and the burden our father bore until his final days, succumbing to illness brought on by the weight of our legacy… You have the power to mend these wounds, to honor the memory of our ancestors, our fallen brethren, and, above all, to uphold our father’s spirit.

As long as our blood courses through your veins, you remain a Tengu. Do not delude yourself into thinking otherwise.

You were born a Tengu, and you will die a Tengu.

You stared at the letter for several moments, bracing yourself for such a reaction, yet the sting of its words still pierced your heart.

It was foolish to harbor such hopes, as if every lifeline you grasped at was destined to crumble to dust the moment your fingers closed around it. Retrieving the moon from the sky seemed an easier task compared to fulfilling your brother’s demands.

As you reread the final sentences, a bitter laugh escaped your lips, betraying the turmoil in your heart despite the facade of sarcasm. “A member of the clan… How far from the truth those words ring,” you muttered. What significance did they hold in the face of years of disregard?

Despite your efforts to forge ahead and leave the past behind, the pain of past injustices still lingered, resurfacing from time to time. You never sought solace in self-pity or allowed your character to stagnate; your mother’s unwavering support had been a beacon of strength throughout. You neither aspired to emulate your father’s stoicism nor your brother’s manipulative ways. Instead, you longed for a life of honesty, tranquility, and simplicity. The only route you believed would pave the way for such peace was acceptance within the clan.

With a heavy heart, you rose from your seat, steadying yourself against a momentary bout of dizziness. Making your way to the desk nestled in the corner of the room, you retrieved a long match used to light the scented candles. Igniting the letter, you watched as the flames consumed the paper, erasing any evidence of its existence. Meanwhile, with a wave of your hand, you created a small portal to ensure the remnants of the letter vanished without a trace.

Even though you lacked expertise in the art of seduction, you possessed enough insight to recognize that Bi-Han was not easily swayed. His demeanor, as cold as ice, left little room for manipulation. A sense of despair gripped your heart as you gazed up at the full moon emerging from behind the clouds.

While there was no explicit deadline for this mission, your brother's impatience, as conveyed in his letter, compelled you to act swiftly. Time was more limited than you had initially anticipated. Running trembling hands through your hair, you silently appealed to any celestial being who might be listening.

"I don't know what to do. Please show me the way," you whispered into the night, your voice carrying a hint of desperation.

Today…

As your eyes slowly fluttered open, slipping away from the embrace of sleep, you found yourself momentarily disoriented, struggling to place your surroundings. Gradually, the events of the previous night began to crystallize in your mind, causing a blush to creep across your cheeks. It seemed almost surreal to think that last night wasn’t merely a figment of your imagination; never had you imagined the Lin Kuei grandmaster to exude such calm and warmth, even if you lacked the courage to acknowledge it.

The last time you felt such tranquility was in the presence of your mother, her comforting presence serving as a sanctuary where your defenses could lower and your anxieties could subside. To experience a semblance of that serenity after so many years was unexpected, to say the least.

Seeking confirmation that last night wasn’t a dream, you reached out to the spot on the couch where Bi-Han had been seated, now conspicuously empty. The aged leather of the sofa bore the marks of years of use, its surface cracked in places. As your hand made contact, you were surprised to find the leather still warm, causing you to recoil as if scalded. Your gaze then drifted to the coffee table, where a copy of The Little Prince lay, its pages marked. A sense of wonder and warmth washed over you, permeating your entire being from within.

Since nightmares were a recurring part of your life, you had learned to cope with them, but the heightened stress of recent days had taken its toll, dragging your already strained system further downhill with each passing night, until it finally collapsed entirely last night. Despite managing to navigate through the day with intermittent bouts of sleep, the past week had been increasingly challenging. The lack of rest made it difficult to discern reality from the realm of dreams, and the lingering effects of your nightmares persisted long after waking.

It was mortifying for Bi-Han to witness you in such a vulnerable state, particularly since he was among those you least wanted to appear weak in front of. You braced yourself for mockery, humiliation, or dismissal, as was his usual response to such situations. However, his unexpected display of empathy caught you off guard, shocking you even more than your nightmares had.

It wasn’t difficult for you to grasp the significance of this room to Bi-Han; his mother’s library held sacred memories that he cherished, a place untouched by outsiders. As you peered into the room, the reverence he held for this space became palpable. Every corner seemed to whisper of his mother’s presence, each item a testament to her memory. It was understandable why he had been reluctant to share this intimate space with you, fearing that your presence might tarnish these precious memories. Despite your initial surprise at his change of heart, it caused significant cracks in the walls of prejudice you had built against Bi-Han.

Yet, it also validated the fear that had been gnawing at you. The realization that he might not be the man he appeared to be stirred a disquieting uncertainty within you. As a professional, you prided yourself on your ability to separate duty from emotion, but now, you found yourself grappling with hesitation.

Encountering warmth, understanding, and tolerance shouldn’t have affected you so profoundly. Yet, here you stood, in a room where you didn’t belong, enveloped by the scent of aged books, beneath a comforting blanket, confronting a dilemma you hadn’t anticipated.

If you weren’t bound to Bi-Han by marriage, the circumstances might have been different. Here, your abilities could earn you recognition and influence, if only temporarily. But would that be enough to truly belong? You doubted it. If your upbringing had taught you anything, it was that belonging was a privilege rarely afforded to those like you.

And so, you had chosen this mission, seeking a place to belong, tired of constantly questioning your worth. You craved appreciation for your efforts, yearned for safety and peace. Yet, even as you lay your head upon the pillow, the nightmares persisted, a relentless reminder of the struggles that defined your existence. Despite your resilience, you found yourself teetering on the brink of exhaustion, pushed to the limits of your endurance.

The moment you became a part of Lin Kuei, you anticipated that this boundary would be tested, but the crucible where you were challenged came from an unexpected direction. With each passing day, it grew increasingly difficult to view them as enemies, and the emotions you had suppressed began to surface, gradually lodging like a lump in your throat.

Since the day you first entered this world, you had been locked in a perpetual struggle, your feelings dulled and hardened by the passage of time. Or so you had believed. After all, could one truly forget the taste of something they hadn’t experienced in years? It was a cruel realization, especially to confront it in a place ingrained in your mind as the domain of enemy clans.

As your fingers clutched the blanket draped across your lap, your lower lip trembled under the weight of your emotions. The impact of even the slightest semblance of sympathy was profound, rendering you a pitiful figure, huddled on the sofa, knees drawn to your chest, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if to contain the storm raging within. Despite representing a clan renowned for breeding impeccable assassins, you felt on the verge of crumbling at the slightest touch.

You didn’t want to entertain these emotions, didn’t believe you deserved the warmth and understanding extended to you, despite yearning for it deeply. You were a spy, after all—this facade would inevitably come to an end. You knew better than to get swept away by sentimentality, having prayed for this opportunity to manifest for years, wishing upon every shooting star that graced the unclouded night sky. You couldn’t afford to fail. You simply couldn’t.

Your heart is gripped by the anxiety that permeates your being; while your nightmares had been haunting, this mission proved to be worse than anything your subconscious could conjure. Despite yearning for this task with every fiber of your being, you found yourself unable to acclimate, unable to reconcile with this reality even after a month had passed. Though your brother had advised you to view them as mere pawns in your grand scheme, it grew increasingly challenging to maintain such detachment when confronted with their presence day in and day out. For the first time in years, you were not rendered invisible in the eyes of others; instead, they engaged with you, valuing your ideas and thoughts without reservation. How painful it was to meet the basic standards that should have been commonplace within your own clan.

“Ma’am, are you awake?” Startled by the click of the door, you drew a deep breath in an attempt to steady your racing heart, wiping the cold sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand as Frost’s silhouette materialized behind the door. “Ma’am, are you there?”

“Y-Yes.” You filled your lungs with the comforting scent of books, discreetly checking the corners of your eyes to ensure no tears had escaped, then hastily composing yourself without the aid of a mirror. “You may come in.”

Frost softly slid open the door, lingering at the threshold with an expression unlike her usual stern demeanor. Her blue eyes, as bright as the sky after a winter storm, held a hint of curiosity as she surveyed the room with careful consideration, as though seeing it for the first time. “So, this is how it looks,” you heard her mutter.

Your eyebrows raised in mild surprise; it seemed that this place had been off-limits not only to you but to others as well. While this revelation should not have affected you, you couldn’t suppress the faint smile that graced your lips, nor the gentle warmth that chased away the anxiety constricting your chest.

“The grandmaster said you could be here; I came to accompany you to your breakfast.”

“Oh, aren’t Wuhao and Zhiyu here?” you inquired, referring to your guards. Typically, after your morning meal, Frost would assume the role of guarding, standing a few paces away from you throughout the day until dinner.

“From now on, they will only keep watch at your door alternately at night, and I will accompany you during the day.”

You fell silent, taken aback by Bi-Han’s adherence to your request. You had wanted to conceal your powers and combat abilities until a critical moment, strategically following your brother’s advice that appearing weak and vulnerable would make it easier to approach Bi-Han. Men often perceived strength in women as a threat.

You had believed your brother’s words to be true until yesterday. However, in the time you had spent getting to know Bi-Han, you had observed that he was not easily impressed and seldom praised others without reason. His perfectionist nature placed immense pressure on everyone in the clan to act flawlessly.

Though you harbored confidence in yourself, you doubted your ability to sway Bi-Han, fearing disappointment more than anything else. Yet once again, Bi-Han defied your expectations. Amidst the turmoil of your nightmares, his invitation to spar felt like a lifeline thrown to you in the depths of despair.

During the bout, your focus sharpened, drowning out the chaos within. Every fiber of your being urged you to adhere to your brother’s plan, but in that moment, you craved something that would offer respite from the relentless tide of worry and fear. Each strike, each parry, was a fleeting escape from the suffocating weight of your worries, offering a brief respite in the dance of combat.

As the sparring unfolded, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in Bi-Han’s demeanor. The rigid lines of his face softened, replaced by a hint of genuine enjoyment that sparkled in his eyes. It was a stark departure from his usual stoic facade, and the sight sent a thrill coursing through your veins, quickening the beat of your heart.

“Shall we go?” Frost’s voice broke the silence, jolting you from your reverie. With flushed cheeks, you hastily rose to your feet, tidying up the area before following her. Though communication between you and Frost had waned, even conversing with Bi-Han seemed easier than attempting to engage with her.

As you were going out into the main hall, you heard Frost’s voice coming from behind.

‘’I saw how you fought yesterday.’’ Her voice, which normally had a tone that could be called arrogant, was now hoarse and had a hesitation that showed that she was having difficulty saying these things. ‘’You have been very good.’’

You looked over your shoulder at Frost, surprised by her compliment. Instead of making eye contact with you, the woman turned her gaze to the paintings hanging on the walls, her unusual white hair gleaming in the morning light like freshly fallen snow.

‘’Thank you.’’ You said it in a sincere voice. “I didn’t expect everyone to watch, frankly, if I had noticed you earlier, I probably wouldn’t have put on the same performance.’’

Frost’s brow furrowed, puzzled by your statement.

“Why would our presence affect you?” she asked.

Though a simple question, it carried deeper significance for you. Since losing your mother, you hadn’t opened up to anyone, nor had anyone shown enough interest to inquire about your inner thoughts.

“It’s just… when I know people are watching, I feel exposed to their judgment,” you admitted, your gaze drifting to the serene view beyond the balcony. “I worry about what they might think—whether my stance is weak, if I’m making mistakes, or if I’m not good enough.”

A derisive laugh escaped Frost’s lips, accompanied by the crossing of her arms in a defensive posture.

“Anyone who thinks like that can shove their thoughts where the sun doesn’t shine,” she retorted, her tone defiant. “You held your own against the grandmaster longer than anyone expected, including me.”

"Really?" Despite the hint of hope in your voice, you chided yourself for seeking validation. Still, hearing such words from someone like Frost offered a glimmer of validation.

"Yes. No one here dishes out compliments lightly, even to the grandmaster's wife. So believe me when I say, every move you made in that fight was calculated and purposeful. And you managed to balance the difference in physical strength admirably. Few have ever brought the grandmaster to the ground like that."

As your gaze shifted from the garden back to Frost, her expression remained composed. You offered a small smile, feeling the warmth in your cheeks rise at her words.

“Since we are making some confessions, then I will confess something too. The first week I came here, I saw you training. The drill you did with the ice was incredible, I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Oh… Well, thank you,” Frost said, a bemused expression crossing her face as she was caught off guard by your compliment. “It was a move I learned from Master Bi-Han.”

With that, a tentative conversation blossomed between you. Despite lingering doubts and reservations, the icy barrier between you began to thaw, replaced by a neutral ground devoid of prejudice and hostility.

As you reached the corridor leading to the dining room, you spotted Bi-Han exiting the room, engaged in a hushed conversation with Cyrax. His gaze fell upon you, and as he made his way toward you, a peculiar flutter stirred in your chest.

Dressed impeccably in his clan attire, Bi-Han appeared flawless as ever. His muscular frame filled out the fabric snugly, and his jet-black hair, neatly tied back save for a few loose strands, framed his pale complexion. His movements were graceful, akin to the stealthy stride of a predator. It baffled you how someone of his stature could move with such silence.

“Good morning,” you greeted softly. As Frost and Cyrax stepped away, Bi-Han’s penetrating gaze lingered on you, seemingly analyzing every detail.

“Morning,” Bi-Han replied, his tone measured. “I hope you had a nightmare-free night.”

“Yes,” you responded, a small smile gracing your lips. Lowering your voice, you added, “Thank you for last night. You can’t even guess what it means to me. I haven’t had uninterrupted sleep like that in a long time.”

Your words seemed to elicit a response more counterproductive than you had anticipated. Bi-Han’s eyes narrowed with displeasure, forming thin lines, while his perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed in a manner that mirrored his expression. You rooted yourself to the spot, resisting the urge to fidget as you pondered where you had erred. It was too early in the day to wrestle with another concern.

“Now that you know its location, you’re free to use it as long as you refrain from causing any damage,” Bi-Han stated, his voice maintaining a calm tone that belied the tension in his expression. Surprised by his allowance, you blinked several times to ensure you had heard correctly.

“Does that mean I can visit again?” you asked, seeking confirmation.

“I believe we’re speaking the same language,” Bi-Han replied with a touch of mockery in his tone. This detail, which would have irked you initially, now felt oddly comforting. You had learned to discern when Bi-Han was genuinely serious, even when he employed humor or mockery. A smile tugged at your lips, growing more pronounced.

“Thank you, this is very precious to me. Have no doubt that I will approach with respect,” you assured him warmly, your smile widening to reveal your teeth. “Also, thank you for rethinking what I said about the guards yesterday and for coming to an assessment.”

“Consider it’s a trial period,” Bi-Han stated, his expression still rigid as his deep voice retained its composure. “If I find it unsatisfactory, it will revert to how it was before.’’

Despite his stern demeanor, the fact that he had reconsidered your suggestion was a significant improvement in your eyes.

“There used to be helpers in my clan who regularly went down to the city center one day a week,” you ventured after a brief silence. “Does the same thing apply here?”

“Yes, there are people who go shopping to meet the clan’s needs on certain days. Do you need something?”

“No, I have everything, thank you. I just need a little change of environment. I want to go with them for a few hours.”

Bi-Han’s expression soured, his eyebrows furrowing with clear displeasure at your request.

“You are my wife, and as such, we have many allies as well as enemies. The moment you step out of here, you become a target for those who wish to reach me. Besides, let’s not forget how quickly you were poisoned. We still don’t know who’s behind it. Do you want to risk a repeat?”

“I thought I proved myself to you,” you replied, a hint of anger and disappointment coloring your voice. “Stop seeing me as weak. I can take care of myself.”

Bi-Han snarled and took a step towards you, but you met his dark gaze head-on, refusing to back down or feel intimidated by his imposing looks.

“I don’t see you as weak or anything, I’m just stating the facts,” he clarified. ‘’Then are you planning to keep me confined here forever? I’m your wife, not your prisoner. If you think I’m going to spend the rest of my life hiding behind the walls of this temple, you’re mistaken.’’

As the truth of your words hung heavy in the air, you were reminded once again of the painful reality. Yes, your time here was limited, and you would eventually return to your clan.

But right now, you needed a change of scenery. Being confined within these walls only added to the pressure of the mission, and the rift between you and Bi-Han was another unsettling detail. It seemed increasingly unlikely that you would fulfill your brother’s hopes within the given time frame.

‘’When I was in my clan, I faced similar dangers because my father was the grandmaster. I was always a target due to my position. I understand the expectations, risks, and responsibilities that come with it. This isn’t the first time I’ve been in such a situation, and I won’t let fear dictate my life.”

‘’Are you telling me I’m a coward?’’ Han remarked coolly, his voice a restrained hiss. You continued your explanation in a voice that you hoped was polite, lifting your chin in a graceful manner that showed that you were not affected by the cold air that was starting to spread in the air. You didn’t want Bi-Han to feel more provoked by understanding the opposite of what you meant.

‘’No, I see you don’t trust me, that’s all. I wish you would trust me a little in this matter, as in your mother’s library. That’s all I’m asking of you.’’

Bi-Han’s fists tightened on both sides. While his expression became completely illegible, his body was alert and he looked big enough to make you feel small. After taking a smoky breath, his gaze softened vaguely, almost faintly enough to make you stumble.

‘’It’s not my intention to hold you in here either, but I can’t knowingly throw you in there with my own hands, knowing the dangers outside. I have to be careful, the future of my clan-‘’

‘’It comes first of all, I know.’’

Bi-Han took another step towards you, now you were close enough to touch each other. Judging by the clean smell rising from him, he had just been washed. Throughout your time here, you had never known Bi-Han to smell anything less than pristine or to exhibit any behavior that would cause you to avert your gaze. Instead, you were enveloped in his unique masculine fragrance, lingering even after hours of training. It was reminiscent of the crisp, refreshing scent that precedes a snowfall.

‘’You are a very snip-snap, I never thought I could like this feature in a person.’’ Said Bi-Han, he said it in a low voice, more like he was confessing it to himself. One hand went up as if to touch a few tufts of hair falling in front of your face, then realizing what he was doing, he pulled his hand back immediately.

Surprised at the disappointment you felt, but trying to hide your hot cheeks, you averted your gaze from him. The touch of him when you burned your hand during breakfast yesterday was etched on your skin.

As a cryomancer, someone famous for his ice powers, his touch was careful and gentle, while using his powers for a much different purpose this time, rather than taking lives. You liked the fact that he could approach you so differently when he wanted to, even though you avoided admitting it to yourself. More than enough. It was a strange feeling to be deprived of this even though he was so close now, leaving a faint ache in the pit of your stomach as you struggled to maintain your composure.

“Forget what I just said,” you interjected, unable to bear the awkward silence any longer. “My intention wasn’t to stir controversy or tension. I’ll join you for training after breakfast.”

You were about to walk past him when Bi-Han stopped you by grabbing you by the arm with a grip that you could call gentle. His touch was cold, between his fingers that felt like handcuffs, you felt more fragile than you’ve ever been. His controlled power was so apparent that it made you shudder to realize how easily he could inflict harm if he chose to.

“As Grandmaster, I must prioritize the protection of my clan, and you are a part of it,” Bi-Han explained, his breath forming tiny crystals in the air as he spoke. “While your request is reasonable, I cannot grant more than two hours.”

Listening to his response once again, warmth flooded your entire being, akin to basking under the summer sun. Instead of curtly dismissing your request, he made an effort, sincerely attempting to understand and accommodate your wishes. Unlike anyone in your clan, this man you’ve known for just a month consistently surprised you by his willingness to listen and understand.

After a long time, thanks to him, you had a peaceful sleep without nightmares. He granted you permission to use a room he held dear, considered your input about the guards, and reduced their number to a reasonable level. Words alone weren’t enough to express your gratitude; you needed him to understand your sincerity.

Your body surged with intense excitement, as if caught in a small electric current, urging you to do something you’d never done before. Your palms itched with anticipation, a rapidly rising energy overtaking you. Despite your usual controlled and calm nature, you struggled to hold yourself together.

‘’Two hours is quite enough, thank you.’’ Immediately after your words, you stood up on tiptoe and surprised both yourself and Bi-Han by planting a tiny, imperceptibly light kiss on his cold cheek. ‘’I promise to come before I turn into a pumpkin,’’ you added with a playful tone, a reference to Cinderella’s need to leave the ball before midnight in the fairy tale.

Bi-Han’s whole body stiffened, you hoped that he wouldn’t hurt you against your sudden movement, and because of your flaming face along with your brave move, you ran out of there without waiting to see Bi-Han’s reaction.

[destiny-in-the-universe]

Akira Cunningham: 9th Grade Kitsune

Alriiighttt, my lovelies, I figured I might as well try and make a comeback to the fandom by once more talking about my beloved future au "Akira Cunningham: 9th Grade Kitsune" for RC9GN.

I'm going to break this down into different sections, so it's a little easier but first - I wanted to thank my RC9GN mutuals, followers, and anyone just seeing my content every now and again for supporting me. It's been a trying journey, and yes, I'm also the world's biggest loser for how much I vent - and well, with the amount of I dedicated sharing my posts. Thank you for everything, and what's left in store... well, it's going to be an adventure, isn't it?

To start, here's a brief synopsis of the plot; Akira Cunningham - Randy's daughter - is selected to be Norrisville's next hero, only this time she's not the Ninja. This time, Akira is the Kitsune... because something is brewing, and it's going to take everything by storm. As Randy has long since retired the mantle of the Ninja, everything lies on Akira. Where one evil ended, another began. For evil can never be vanquished forever.

Read below the cut for more information!

The Cunningham (Extended) Family

Akira Cunningham is biologically the daughter of Randy Cunningham and Theresa Fowler. The late couple had been planning this for a while, deciding they wanted to have a kid and well, Akira was born

However - the other known fact of the extended Cunningham family, Randy doesn't have just one partner. During his late high school years, he got together with Howard as Randy's (bi) awakening led him to realize he had a thing for men. What blossomed from that, well, you're about to find out

Randy had been crushing on both Howard and Theresa, having decided to date them but then there was Debbie Kang. I'll get into the full schematics of their relationship later: the point is Randy, Howard, Debbie, and Theresa are in a polyamorous relationship

Having Akira was a decision made by everyone, and one thing led to another and she came into existence. Like, surrogacy but I am not a doctor so don't quote me on this

The (now) retired members of the new Norisu 9 all stay in touch which make them honorary members of the family

At the beginning of the story, Akira is meant to be young for reasons I won't be able to disclose just yet. Though, in the present timeline - she will be in high school, much like her dad Randy had been in once. She gets her mantle

As for everyone's jobs, Randy is a martial arts instructor as he earned enough inheritance to get by, Howard is a lawyer, Debbie's an investigative journalist, and Theresa happens to be in competitive sports (still has to do with baton twirling because why not-).

Arc One

Since the Ninja is a retired mantle as Randy- I mean the Ninja, took down the Sorcerer and closed the gateway into the Nine Realms, well, things were looking up. At least... in the beginning. For almost thirty years, the barrier between realms remained closed - without much use - and while certain nonhuman populations had begun living in Norrisville, danger remained at an all-time low. Unexpectedly however, the gates reopened (and strangely, without much explanation) and the yokai district began to flood onto Norrisville. Not all were of the friendly sort, but people didn't seem too concerned... then again no one expected what came next.

No one considered the possibility of gangs running amok within the city; let alone the fact that certain yokai had formed the literal yakuza, but what were they supposed to do? No one had seen the Ninja in such a long time - it would be near impossible to fight back, but there had been another mantle - lying dormant in hidden sight: The Kitsune. Only a yokai could take on other yokai. A cunning trickster. A nine-tailed fox.

Akira Cunningham was chosen to wield it, but apart from the yakuza - apart from yokai rampantly existing on the streets - there had to be someone pulling the strings. Surely... they weren't just wandering around for the heck of it.

Akira Cunningham

Akira does deserve her own post, without the added lore thrown in but then again - she's every way her dad's daughter. She has a good heart, even if some part of her wants to feel something greater - bigger - than herself. Akira's high, rambunctious, and spunky attitude, it's hard to nail her down as someone who displays interest in good deeds. Do not let this fool you, as she's also known for rushing in to protect her friends; even if she's also a little spiteful.

She has Howard's short temper and sometimes becomes frustrated, but I won't be able to dive much into this to keep spoilers from spilling. Akira dreamed of being a heroine when she was young, pretending to be the Ninja - acting like a young, hyper child wanting to be like Superman though who ever would've thought it'd become real?

Though... the journey is not hers alone. There is much more happening, and she can't do it all by herself. And that, my dear readers, is where I end this. More to come soon!

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Somehow, Through the Storm

Summary:

Living in the slums of the Warehouse District, Kaz and Inej are struggling to cling on to life through a seemingly unending winter. Wrapped up in a stranger's overcomplicated marriage contract that he is convinced is key to solving the merciless weather, Kaz remains busy and distracted for days on end, putting everything else at risk. So when a storm ravages the city and sweeps Inej into danger, the offer of safety, food, and a place to stay is an overwhelming one - no matter the cost. Terrified of mounting threats, Inej signs a contract - not knowing she would land herself trapped at the Menagerie. Kaz signs a contract that states if he can walk all the way through the city and back to the Warehouse District with Inej behind him, never looking back at her, they will both go free. But this is the Barrel, the darkest part of the city where the rules of physics can change with the stroke of a pen; the journey back will not be the same as journey there…

This is a Hadestown-inspired reimagining of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, casting Kaz and Inej as our main characters and heavily featuring our beloved Crows, set in an alternate version of the Grishaverse with a different magic system based entirely on contracts.

Tags: @lunarthecorvus @marielaure @multi-fandom-bi @igotthisaccountunderduress @thelibraryofalexandriastillburns @devoted-people-hater @spraypaintstainonawhitewall

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list let me know <3

Warnings for this chapter: abuse references, financial abuse, slavery references (similar to Kerch indenture contracts), implied violence, implied fear of violence and sa, ptsd, implied potentially forced marriage

AO3 link:

Chapter 12 - Kaz

“But when I saw you there against the sky - it’s like I’d known you all along. I knew you before we met, and I don’t even know you yet. All I know’s you’re someone I have always known,”

- All I’ve Ever Known, Hadestown

“Well?” asked Inej, as she slid in through the open window behind Kaz’s desk. 

She was exactly on time, of course. How could it be that, after so little time of knowing her, he already felt so easily used to her presence? How could he so comfortably believe that she would arrive exactly when she’d said she would? She had already become a reliable presence, as if she’d been there all along. Or as if something had been missing when she wasn’t. 

Kaz didn’t look up straight away; he tracked the shape of her footsteps across the boards behind him as he turned a page of the document stretched out before him and waited for her to round the desk. He couldn’t hear her, exactly, even when he was tuned in to her movements as closely as he was now, but he knew where she was. As she slipped slowly into view, her steps light as ever but her fist tightening, just slightly, on the strap of her bag as she peered over the table, she seemed to linger for a moment, stretching something out for as long as she so pleased, before she said:

“Is that it?”

She was looking at the contract laid open under Kaz’s gloved hands. 

“Any property owned by this Partner before marriage,” he read aloud, “and any property inherited or received as a gift during this marriage, is hereby defined as the singular property of the spouse, relinquished freely and under the will of Ghezen by this Partner,”

Inej crinkled her nose. 

“Yes,” he said, dropping the page and finally allowing himself to look up at her, “This is very much it. And that is quite possibly the least offensive sentence I’ve read so far,” 

Kaz was not making an overstatement. 

It had barely been ten minutes since Wylan left the store rooms upstairs at Lexi’s that Kaz generously thought of as an office. He hadn’t stayed for long. There hadn’t yet been much time at all to read through the document, and the writing had been made as overcomplicated as possible in most areas as though to delay the reader for as long as possible, yet Kaz had still already found far worse sentences than that one. It would be a complex web to untangle from the writing alone, and everywhere so far that he thought he’d found the tiniest oversight, the slightest loose thread to start pulling, the single crack from which to start tearing down the wall, it would take only moments for him to be blockaded once again. 

He had thought, when he first glanced over the sentence he read to Inej, that there was one thing Marya Van Eck could do to acquire property her husband would not subsequently own: there was no mention of purchase under separate funds. Many marriage contracts stated that property acquired under separate funds would either be the shared property of the couple or the singular property of the buyer, that was always the sort of thing the Kerch had very clear ideas about to take into their marriages, and Kaz was familiar enough with the language of contracts to notice it being missing. But he found it didn’t matter: Marya Van Eck had no separate funds. By the contract, all of her money, any money she inherited, and any money she was gifted, belonged to Jan Van Eck. Kaz had wondered if she could earn her own money but the contract covered that as well - she was legally barred from entering, or perhaps re-entering though Kaz doubted it, any form of workforce. And this one was complicated, he would need to study it for longer, because it seemed that this clause would never be terminated in any situation, but so far he had found no information as to what might happen if Marya was widowed. If there was no support set up, and if she could not work even in the event of Van Eck’s death, what was she supposed to do with no income and, at least as far as she knew, no child to support her? Kaz didn’t even know how a contract could enforce that, but if a Grisha had written it… nature would find a way of stopping her. He’d once seen a girl contracted to a house in the Zelvar District try to step over the border she was confined by. It had not been pretty. 

“Surely that’s not legal?” asked Inej, pulling out a chair opposite him. 

The sun had not long since peaked its midday arc through a mist of pale grey cloud, which was hanging low over the city and harbouring with it the ever present threat of rain. The frost had lessened, just slightly, today, but the colour was still high in Inej’s cheeks since stepping in from the cold. Her jacket was pulled tight over her shoulders, or as tight as it could be with the ill-fitting nature of its neckline, and Kaz found his eyes drifting over her hair - two plaits, tucked inside a thin scarf, as though having them low around her neck, instead of in their usual tight coil, might add an extra layer of warmth over her skin. The scarf was new. Well judging by the fraying fabric it had been bought second hand, but it was new either to Inej’s possession or Kaz’s sight. Dark purple, a flighty sort of material wind wound her multiple times, half caught in her collar, a loose front edge that wasn’t quite long enough to turn again tucked into her buttoned-up jacket. For an entirely strange moment, he thought she looked like she belonged in the University District; she ought to be bumping shoulders with laughing friends, all variously either under or overdressed for the weather as students always seemed to be, inhaling the steam of tea in paper cups clutched between mittened fingers as they walked together between the wide, clean streets towards a library or lecture hall. He forced his eyes to the window. 

The frost was sure to return with full force again in no time. If it got much colder the rain might even turn to hail - and then wouldn’t Kaz have a problem? It would be sure to incur further damages to his roof. 

“Technically,” he said, concentration returning to the page, “There are laws in place to protect property and income of both spouses only in the event that their marriage contract does not specify otherwise. From a legal perspective, she consented to hand the entire Hendriks’ family fortune to him,”

Freely and under the will of Ghezen. There was a knot forming in Kaz's stomach.

“Of course, marriage contracts aren’t usually drafted by Grisha. I couldn’t tell you if that in and of itself is illegal, but a good amount of the clauses in here are,”

“But then how-?”

Kaz had released a short, humourless laugh before Inej had even finished her question. For a while, she fell silent. 

…any property inherited or received as a gift during this marriage, is hereby defined as the singular property of the spouse, relinquished freely and under the will of Ghezen by this Partner, Kaz reread, The Partners ___M.H.___ and ___J.V.___ hereby agree to the above terms, naming ___M.H.___ as the Partner in question and ___J.V.___ as the aforementioned spouse, and that they agree that the Ghemens Bank is authorised to make final decisions on all property disputes brought before the court. 

The detail about the Ghemens Bank was standard for all property-based or monetary disputes within marriages - clearly, he thought, they had used a more traditional marriage contract for the framework. Everything down to the repeated initials, handwritten repeatedly through the entire document by Marya and Jan themselves, looked like it ought to be normal. What was decidedly less traditional, however, was the sentence immediately following: 

The Partner ___M.H.___ hereby freely and under the will of Ghezen waives their right to bring any dispute of this nature to court. The Partner acknowledges their decision to sign this contract of their own free will and agrees that they understand any property dispute shall be settled according to the clauses outlined above whether in or out of court. Failures to comply with agreed upon clauses are outlined in Clause 10.7. 

Kaz felt something inside him clench, just slightly, and he twisted his fingers inside his gloves as he involuntarily found himself studying the neat ink of Marya’s initials, over and over again until they began to morph into different letters. M.H. M. H. M. H. M. H. J. R. J. R.

He wasn’t even sure how long he’d just been sitting there, staring blankly through the page, by the time he finally forced his eyes away. 

“Are you staying at the Slat tonight?”

Inej had pulled her feet up onto the chair with her, so her boots stuck out from beneath her folded legs, and her hands were partly hidden where she’d pulled the long edge of her scarf out of her jacket and began to fidget with it. Kaz was pretty sure that she’d been just as far from the room as he had been, but when he spoke she seemed to land with a crash. She tilted her face towards his and held his gaze for a tiny, lingering moment before she spoke. 

“I need to talk to you about that,” she said, slowly, as though the words were rehearsed and she was making sure she remembered them correctly, “I don’t… It can’t be the best arrangement for you,”

Kaz shrugged. 

“I work most nights,”

“You work every day as well, Kaz,” her voice was soft, “Are you telling me you never sleep?”

Truth be told, Kaz slept as rarely as he could permit himself to do so. But that was not a thought, let alone a conversation, that he wanted to open any time soon, so he only gave her a short nod of concession. 

“It isn’t sustainable for either of us to carry on like that,”

“What are you suggesting?” he asked. 

“A deal. Take whatever you think is enough for the room out of what you’re paying me. I can’t be found there, I know, so you can add extra for the risk if you want to. I’ll rig something up to sleep in that can be dismantled quickly, and I’ll put it up near your desk so I’m not invading your room. If you really don’t mind it, that’s more than enough for me - and temporarily, of course, until I find somewhere else to stay,”

Kaz wanted to tell her that it wasn’t necessary - not all of it, anyway. But he had seen the creeping, frightened energy fizzling at her edges whenever she tried to approach anything adjacent to this subject over the past few days. Hell, she’d given him a harder hit to the palm than he reckoned she’d even realised when he accidentally took her by surprise near the market. 

“For as long as you need it,” he nodded, then held out his gloved hand out across the desk, “The deal is the deal,”

“The deal is the deal,”

They shook. 

*

“How’s this?” asked Inej, turning from her work to face Kaz. 

She was standing next to the larger window in the attic room of the Slat, and an unusually beautiful sunset was leaking through the panes to drench her skin in gold. Kaz felt the breath catch at the back of his throat as he looked up, and silently dug his teeth into the hidden flesh of his lip. 

“Fine,” he said, “So long as it’s comfortable,”

It had been two days since he and Inej struck their deal to share the attic, and Inej had spent the past twenty minutes rigging a hammock between the edge of the partition wall and window frame. She’d put the nails up yesterday, after Kaz managed to syphon a few off Anika, as well as borrowing a hammer from her, and this evening the job was finally done. Kaz watched as she planted her hands onto the fabric and hopped into its cradle, annoyed at how nervous he felt but still letting his gaze flick to the makeshift hooks to make sure they were remaining secure under her weight. By the time he looked back again Inej had already flopped onto her back, one arm stretched above her head, and pushed her foot against the wall to make the hammock swing gently from side to side. 

“It’s definitely not in the way?” 

“No,”

“And when I take it down-”

“Just pull the ropes out and lay it on the bed like it’s a blanket. He won’t look too hard,”

Inej rolled onto her stomach and then pressed her hands deep into the fabric so she could push her head up above the edge. A few hairs had come loose from her braid and were now ever so slightly frazzled by their contact with the fabric; just enough that a couple had raised upwards and were now shimmering in the lowering rays of sunlight. 

“This is cosier than you might think, you know,” she smiled, then peered at the boards below her and added with a laugh: “Now I just have to figure out how to get down again,”

Kaz had never heard her laugh before. 

The rest of the evening seemed to fade before him, and only when he heard Inej stifling a yawn did he realise that the sun had long since set and the city was well and truly buried into the darkest depths of night. He left her to prepare for sleep and took the opportunity to return Anika’s hammer, then knocked on the door and waited until it cautiously creaked open. 

“We need a way for me to know that it’s you,” Inej murmured, as she pushed the door closed again and pressed her back up against it, “It would be a pretty inconvenient way to get caught if I just opened the door,” 

She made a good point. They settled, until they could come up with a more secure plan, on Kaz always knocking three times. And that was it, really. The first night. It was strangely easy. 

“I can go out a while,” Inej said, a week later when Kaz was working after the sun had set, “If I’m distracting you,” 

She was sitting cross-legged on her hammock, swaying ever so slightly back and forth, her hands folded into her lap. Kaz had found, though admittedly it was somewhat unexpected, that he didn’t find it distracting at all to have Inej in the room whilst he worked. Or while he did anything, really. Her presence was almost comforting, a routine so easily slipped into that he didn’t even have a chance to question it, and he was now forced to confront what had become fact: he wanted her to be there. 

“You aren’t,” was all he managed to say. 

Inej peeked over the edge of the hammock with an almost playful smile. 

“Is that your way of saying you like me?” she asked, and before he even had a chance to register the words - let alone formulate a reply - she clicked her tongue and tutted as she rolled over, “Don’t go getting attached, Kaz,” she yawned softly, “I’ll be gone by spring,”

Kaz smiled, glancing at the back of her head from the corner of his eyes as she settled on her side. It was only hours later, when he was finally setting down his quill and preparing to blow out his candle, that he realised Inej had fallen asleep, for the first time, whilst Kaz was still in the room with her. 

Time marched on, as it always did. Winter remained as impenetrable as ever, and Kaz’s work on trying to understand the Van Eck contract remained as fruitless as the barren trees standing gnarled and lonely along the edge of the canal. Rain came and went, often enough for him and Inej to patch leaks in the roof of the Slat side by side, but no hail fell. 

“I have something for you,” Kaz had said, two weeks after Inej had moved properly into the Slat, when he returned home one night. 

Inej looked up, questions in her eyes. 

“It’s for work,” he added, without changing his tone, “I said I’d teach you to fight,”

“You said I’d need to know how to,”

Kaz nodded.

“You will,”

He’d been keeping her out of jobs that might run her in close proximity to any of the other roughed up crews in the Warehouse District, but he needed information and he couldn’t sideline her forever. 

“Brass knuckles,” he said, “as useful as they are, aren’t going to cut it. I need information about a gang that own one of the gambling dens on the edge of the District; if anyone sees you-”

“They won’t,”

“Humour me?”

Inej nodded. Kaz slipped a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small, biting blade. It was nothing particularly special, he supposed, but he’d bought it new from a smiths on the other side of town and it sat snug and neat in its perfect black leather sheath, metal shining and ready to bear its teeth when you pulled it free. Inej lifted it slowly from the leather, testing the weight of it in each hand, and then suddenly thrust her arm forwards to make a slash through the air. It was a surprisingly well controlled motion. Inej looked up at Kaz and smiled. 

At first, he had Jesper actually teaching her. They would meet during the day, outdoors, and each evening when Inej returned she would tell Kaz what they’d worked on. He couldn’t have ever explained why, one night, he was able to show her where she’d slipped up, just slightly, in her form and show her how to hold it better. He didn’t even know that it would happen, until the words had left his mouth. And he definitely didn’t know what had happened in between then and now for them to end up standing opposite each other in the widest piece of space the attic could provide them, hands raised. But fighting, even like this, was easier than real touch. Kaz knew exactly what would happen, could track all of it with little thought, had time to prepare himself and anticipate the motions. And then they were doing it every night. Time that Kaz had spent losing his mind as he poured over the Van Eck contract was now filled with training, routine, rhythmic, almost wordless sometimes. As days and then weeks began to creep by, training and talking became interchangeable. Kaz heard Inej laugh again, and again and again and again. She told him that she’d named the knife he bought her after Sankt Petyr and he rolled his eyes; there was something almost satisfying about the little furrow that formed between her brows at that. Talking, training, debating, easy silence. All of it was routine. All of it was safe. 

Every morning Inej would stretch before she took down the hammock and bundled the ropes into her satchel. Every evening, and most days, they split for whatever they were working on - Kaz would pass his time arranging jobs, sorting Haskell’s runners and adding in a little of his own products out of sight; Inej would collect her secrets, run jobs with the Slat’s other residents. Every night she would debrief him, and they would talk or train or both or neither, sometimes for hours on end.

And every night before she went to bed she reminded him, smiling: 

“Don’t expect to see me tomorrow. I’ll be gone by spring,”

But every morning she was there, curled on her side, her braid lying about her or drooping over the edge of the hammock and swinging lightly in the still, early air. Kaz didn’t know why but one morning, after over two months had inexplicably passed by, he paused, just for a moment, and watched her. He tried not to be here when she woke up, to give her as much privacy as walls as tight as these could allow either of them, but now he stood and watched her oil black lashes fluttering lightly against her cheeks, the slight rise and fall of her shoulders with every breath. She sighed softly and nestled herself deeper into the thin fabric, and Kaz suddenly found himself resisting the need to lift the edge of her blanket higher so it would properly cover her shoulders. He needed to give himself a firm shake. 

That night, when Inej slipped off her perch on the windowsill and told him not to expect to see her again because she’d be gone by spring, he found the words I’ll miss you trying to force their way past his lips. He swallowed them, and instead what tumbled out became: 

“Be sure to write,”

Inej released a soft laugh, glancing back over her shoulder. 

“Are you hiding a secret proficiency for Ravkan from me, Kaz? You know I can’t write in Kerch,” 

He didn’t know what possessed him to say it, but he said it anyway: 

“Maybe we should change that,”

Inej sat on top of the desk. Kaz didn’t know why she insisted on doing so, possibly putting the questionable integrity of the haphazardly makeshift table at risk when he had a perfectly good chair to offer her, but he was not going to complain. He wrote out the alphabet slowly, repeating each sound and giving Inej the pen to write out each letter phonetically for herself in Ravkan - or maybe Suli? He didn’t really know what the letters for either looked like. The wind creaked through the gaps of the draughty old house and the candle on the desk died; in the unexpected darkness Kaz and Inej both fumbled across the desk to find a matchbox and their hands met against the table. Kaz froze. 

His hand was beneath Inej’s. It was trapped, pinned in place, even with the barrier of leather between them it was soaking wet and it would not answer any command to move. He felt his breath catching in his throat, his chest so tight that it may have been caving in on itself. 

“Kaz?” 

Inej had already pulled her hand away. It had barely been for a moment. There was no pressure, no weight, no feeling of skin pressing against skin. But Kaz felt like he was burning. Or like he was drowning. 

There was a brief shuffling sound and then Inej was holding a lit match up between their faces, the orange flickering across her cheeks and reflecting in her eyes, bouncing through her hair, casting thick shadows of her lashes. 

“Kaz, are you alright?” 

The fire danced over her features. She was burning. She was a body on the Reaper’s Barge and she was burning. 

Kaz stumbled to his feet, shoving his chair backwards without intent or direction. He couldn't be here anymore. He couldn’t - he couldn’t - 

Kaz marched out of the room, the door swinging firmly shut in his wake, Inej’s eyes boring straight through his back to find something dark and wretched hidden deep within his soul. 

[bidotorg]

🎉🏳️‍🌈 Happy Birthday to three incredible individuals who have broken barriers, shattered stereotypes, and inspired millions! 🏳️‍🌈🎉

Today, we celebrate the birthdays of Kristen Stewart, Cynthia Nixon, and Lil Nas X – three phenomenal talents who have not only achieved remarkable success in their fields but have also fearlessly embraced their bisexuality.

Kristen Stewart, with her captivating performances on screen, has mesmerized audiences worldwide. From her breakout role in "Twilight" to her diverse range of characters in independent cinema, she has proven her talent knows no bounds. 🧛‍♀️

Cynthia Nixon, a powerhouse in both stage and screen, has left an indelible mark on the world of entertainment. Known for her iconic portrayal of Miranda Hobbes in "Sex and the City", Nixon's talent extends far beyond the realm of acting. As a proud bi woman, she has fearlessly championed LGBT rights and has become a prominent voice in the fight for equality. 👠

And then there's Lil Nas X, a trailblazing artist who has taken the music industry by storm with his groundbreaking hits and unapologetic self-expression. From the chart-topping success of "Old Town Road" to the bold statements made in his music videos and performances, Lil Nas X has become an icon for LGBT people everywhere. 😈

Let's raise a glass to these extraordinary individuals for their talent, bravery, and steadfast dedication to authenticity. Happy Birthday, Kristen, Cynthia, and Lil Nas X! May your brilliance illuminate the world for many more years to come. 🌟🎂🌈

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

IPKKND ft. Jalebi

Warning: In this Jalebi edition I will write a slight canon divergence for me based on existing material 😊 it’s not a diss to the original! It’s just little/big changes (taking reality into consideration) - a what if based on what we HAVE. Hope you enjoy

#2 The Reveal

Original

Khushi, after watching Arnav suddenly be kind to her and watching a news bulletin that talks about a man marrying another so as to his astrological ill fate falls on the new wife instead of the one he intends to love and marry, assumes an atheist Arnav would precisely do the same - hence why he married her.

To marry his true love Lavanya and have his birth chart misfortune befall Khushi instead. Thus Arnav is planning to kill her and Khushi decides to kill herself before he does it first. And this is all played for “silly” comedy.

Arnav saves her from killing herself and tells her the truth. Khushi later pretends nothing happened and chirps around until Arnav confronts her again and she gets angry on him and he disbelieves her story.

Jalebi edition:

Post Holi Arnav and Khushi are very raw and vulnerable. Khushi understands the tension between Shyam and Arnav and is very restless about it. Why would Arnav keep glaring at his beloved jijaji? What wrong could have happened? Oh no, did he know the truth? How could he have known?

Shyam gets further desperate in getting his hands on the papers, and Khushi notices further the tension between the men. She decides to ask Arnav about it but is interrupted with Arnav fake romancing her as they had Anjali witnessing them. Khushi feels all their intimate moments were a play!

Angry, Khushi demands why much she pretend to be a happy wife? She accuses him of hurting her but he accuses her of hurting him more.

Shocked at that, Khushi fears the worst. One, he must’ve known about Shyam. Two, during Holi she must’ve blurted the truth to Shyam.

With Shyam getting more insulting, Khushi straight up heads to Shyam and demands he tells the truths to Arnav. Shyam tries to use to opportunity to get her to sign some papers by Arnav, but Khushi refuses. Angry, Shyam decides to play dirty.

He mocks Khushi that she must be knowing why Arnav married her. Khushi is stunned and Shyam, honestly, tells everything. That Arnav saw what happened on the terrace, misunderstood it, threatened and blackmailed Shyam, and the point of marriage was to use Khushi against Shyam.

Shyam is happy seeing confusion in Khushi’s face but Khushi calls him a liar and storms off, not believing a single word she said. She wonders if he indeed marry her for this and that she could take him to visit her family but in anger if he reveals the contract marriage they’d be hurt further.

Exhausted, she asks Arnav why he married her, Arnav tells her and Khushi can’t believe it. She asks him not to lie but he emphasizes he isn’t!

Khushi is shattered and chooses to kill herself but Arnav saves her, traumatized, and begs Khushi to explain the situation to him instead of…

Khushi yells at him, the sheer audacity to ask for an explanation when he left no room for questions.

Khushi tells the truth and accuses him of coming to the conclusion he perhaps always wanted to reach.

About her, her character.

(images sourced from the lovely Indi)

Tagging: @butaneandthebeast @shiyaravi @shaonsim @thenainitaldisaster @maansiloves @muttonthings @sapnokiduniyaisalwaysbetter @bengudill @myloveforstuff @laad-governess @laadgovernorandsankadevi @leila1 @lostafpanda @magicfeltmybloop @honeybellexox @featheredclover @goals1024 @bigfatreader @simplycurlz @persephone-with-a-cat @chutkiandchotte @sankititaliya @ijustchangedmyname @noor1025 @bitchy-bi-trash @thecharlesboyle @thedupattaknowswhatsup @exosexosekai @arnav-aur-khushi @whateverworks21 @starzin8s

(This is my permanent tagging list - I’m unable to get a few names cause tumblr doesn’t let them??? So sorry about that and if you want to be added/deleted lemme know)

[kadoore]

March 2023 Queer Adult SFF Books!

THE MIMICKING OF KNOWN SUCCESSES by Malka Older 3/7/2023

f/f

gaslamp mystery, but make it Jupiter

platform-livin' on a gas giant

cozy Holmes/Watson vibes

ARCA by G.R. Macallister 3/7/2023

sapphic MCs, pan and nb side characters

picks up where SCORPICA left off

that is, a matriarchical society where politics and magic clash and a fragile peace might soon come undone

THE FAITHLESS by C.L. Clark 3/7/2023

f/f

sequel to THE UNBROKEN

those ARMS

found family vs found my family

the queen might be hot af but she's still trying to conquer your people

it's time for a revolution

PROUD PINK SKY by Redfern Jon Barrett 3/14/2023

m/m

the alt-historical, glittering queer metropolis of Berlin draws two fleeing gays toward (supposed) sanctuary

but even in a queer utopia, there's strife and division amongst the gays

FEED THEM SILENCE by Lee Mandelo 3/14/2023

f/f established couple

hey we can translate wolf speak!

oh, what they're saying is pretty interesting

let's just be wolves

well that escalated quickly

BITTER MEDICINE by Mia Tsai 3/14/2023

bi MCs in a m/f relationship

xianxia-inspired romantic fantasy between a descendant of the Chinese god of medicine and an elf security expert

magical calligraphy, cursed children, & murderous younger brothers

WE DREAM OF GODS by Devin Madson 3/21/2023

m/m, plus bi characters

puts the epic in epic fantasy

necromancy & tasteful beheadings & empire building, yesss

4th & final book in the REBORN EMPIRE, which started with WE RIDE THE STORM

THE BLOOD HOURS by Ann H. Fox 3/21/2023

bi MC

magic-users are marked with how long they're allowed to live before they're hunted by priests as sacrifice

MC got 72 years; his sister only 10

So when his sister enters the hunt, so does he

LOKI'S RING by Stina Leicht 3/28/2023

many queer POV characters

a crisis team of middle-aged folks are stranded on a planet under quarantine

adopted AI children & alien-made solar systems

same universe as PERSEPHONE STATION

BLACKHEART GHOSTS by Laure Eve 3/30/2023

f/f

queer Arthurian urban fantasy with motor bikes?? And illegal magic???

illusionists, betrayal, and half-drowned strangers 🧑‍🍳🤌

sequel to BLACKHEART KNIGHTS

More queer 2023 books: January | February | April

[blackberrysummerblog]

Hi again and happy Wednesday all! Thank you so much to everyone who tagged me last week; I really appreciate it & loved seeing what you’ve all been up to!

And Happy Birthday Simon Snow! Here’s a somewhat day-appropriate excerpt from my ongoing crucible marriage au, from Simon’s second day at good old Pitch Manor:

“So, no brothers and sisters. Just the Mage, more’s the pity. What else should I know about you, Snow? You weren’t at the last ceremony. When’s your birthday?”

Ah, fuck. There’s no way this isn’t going to be awkward. The date was written on my arm along with my name when my parents abandoned me, but I’m not going to tell him that. “It was...um. The 21st of June. Summer solstice, usually…”

“Yesterday. Your birthday was yesterday, Snow? Why in magic’s name didn’t you say anything?”

I shrug. “Your, uh, family didn’t really seem much in the mood to celebrate.”

“Well, I’d have liked to have known,” Baz says, scowling. It’s like the weather is echoing his mood, it’s gone right dark out all of a sudden.

“To be perfectly honest, it wasn’t foremost in my mind after the ceremony,” I snap. “Your aunt was furious and you—”

“I what, Snow?”

I squirm and try to pull my hand free. Baz resists for a moment but then lets go, and I cross my arms over my chest. Words are escaping me, as per usual. I shrug.

“Seven snakes, Snow.” He gives a long, slow sigh.

“Well, what would you have done if you knew, anyway? It’s not really a big deal.”

“It is to me! Crowley, I won’t have much excuse to forget from now on. Your birthday is the same day as our anniversary.”

“I guess I’ll be like one of those kids with Christmas birthdays now,” I say. As if Christmas or birthdays had been a thing in the homes, I don’t add. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if anyone tried to make a fuss. (That’s not fair. Penny did. She always had a small gift for me on those days, and a little cupcake with a candle on my birthday.)

“We’ll celebrate our anniversary the day before,” Baz says firmly, fixing me with a look I don’t think I’d dare challenge. “Solstice is sometimes on the 20th, anyway. Your birthday will get its own day, Snow.”

I don’t understand him at all, this easy way he has of swinging between remarks that cut straight to the bone and then, in the next instant...this. “Assuming we’re still married in a year,” I say, which is awful, but it’s not as though anyone here is pretending they’re not going to storm the Coven to tear us apart. I don’t want to think about that though, much less talk about it. I want things to be simple for once; I want the sort of uncomplicated life that everyone but me seems to get. Baz isn’t uncomplicated, but I feel like loving him might be. If we’re given the chance.

Tags under the cut! Have a great rest of the week, everyone!

@cutestkilla @larkral @facewithoutheart @ileadacharmedlife @bazzybelle @whogaveyoupermission @fatalfangirl @stitchyqueer @confused-bi-queer @c0nsumemy5oul @thewholelemon @asocialpessimist @supercutedinosaurs @palimpsessed @nausikaaa @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @rimeswithpurple @j-nipper-95 @cows4247 @sillyunicorn @stardustasincocaine @orange-peony @imagineacoolerusername @jasonfunderberthefrogexists @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @martsonmars @basiltonbutliketheherb @valeffelees @artsyunderstudy @aristocratic-otter @hushed-chorus @thehoneyedhufflepuff @erzbethluna @nightimedreamersworld @letraspal @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @raenestee @captain-aralias @shrekgogurt @onepintobean@ebbpettier @orange-peony @theearlgreymage @prettygoododds @forabeatofadrum @ivelovedhimthroughworse @stillmadaboutpetra @mostlymaudlin @whatevertheweather @bookish-bogwitch @fucking-gay-frogs @shutup-andletme-go @yellob @hertragedyconnoisseur @sailorblossoms @aceumbrellaheroes @ninemagicks @anikamercat @brilla-brilla-estrellita @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ionlydrinkhotwater @captain-emrys @tender-ministrations

[summerwritesfics]

🌎For Your Protection

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 2497 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Bodyguard AU, Bodyguard!Hanzo Hasashi, Death Threats, Threats Of Violence, Threats Of Torture, Potential Attempted Murder, Mentioned Torture, Kuai Liang Is A Brat (But isn’t he always in my fanfics?)

Meanwhile In Another Universe Masterlist

Notes: Nothing more homoerotic than the relationship between a bodyguard and his charge ☺️

Hanzo Hasashi was used to awkward clients.

His work as a bodyguard had him positioned at the side of all manor of upper class and important people. Politicians, celebrities, people with more money than sense. He’d had people who deliberately went against his word. More than a couple who made demands of him like asking him to get them coffee and treating him like hired help rather than protection. His stint with Johnny Cage was particularly of note, given how much of a diva he was.

All that to say, Song Kuai Liang really wasn’t special in terms of how awkward his clients could be.

Hanzo had been warned, by both Kuai’s father and brother, that Kuai could be a “spoiled princess” at times. Their words, not Hanzo’s. And they were right. Kuai spent the majority of his time in Hanzo’s company huffing and pouting, generally seeming like he was seconds away from throwing a tantrum. Clearly, he resented the fact his family thought he needed a bodyguard. And he was going to take that frustration out on Hanzo.

As they both stepped out of the limo and onto the sidewalk, Hanzo took a look at the building in front of them. It was the headquarters of Netherrealm Incorporated, a company that Kuai’s father was currently trying to make a deal with. Hanzo had reservations about the place. He’d heard rumours, and none of them signalled the company operated completely above the law. Still, it was not his place to question these things, he was just here to make sure Kuai didn’t get hurt.

As they approached the double doors, Hanzo quickened his pace to go ahead, carefully opening the door. Deciding the coast was clear, he stepped aside to let Kuai through.

“Thanks,” Kuai muttered miserably as he entered.

“You’re welcome,” Hanzo sighed, only for Kuai to glare at him in response.

“That was sarcasm, genius,” he hissed, storming off into the building.

Hanzo bit his lip, letting the door close behind them as he struggled to keep up.

“It is standard protocol that I open doors and go ahead of you,” Hanzo explained as they approached an elevator, and Kuai hit the button to call it down. “I am just doing my job.”

“Well your job is stupid,” Kuai snapped back, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning to one side. “What? Do you think someone’s really going to be hiding behind every door or corner?”

“It is a possibility.” Maybe I should have taken a different job. He really should have guessed this would be a frustrating one when Bi-Han had told him that Cage had been the one to recommend him.

“The entire front of the building is made of glass, including the door,” Kuai frustratedly growled, gesturing to where they had just come from. “If someone was waiting for me behind that, they’d have to be the most idiotic assassin known to man.” Okay, I hate to admit but he has got a point there. 

They both turned their attention to the elevator as the doors slid open. Hanzo stepped inside first, checking it was clear before letting Kuai in. Thankfully, he decided not to voice his frustration on this again.

“Really everyone is taking those letters far too seriously,” Kuai whispered, reaching to hit the button for the floor they needed, doors shutting and the elevator rumbling into life. “It’s probably just some bored kid who thinks it’s funny.”

The referenced letters were the reason that Hanzo was here. One day, the Song family had started suddenly getting them, each one very graphically threatening to torture and kill Kuai Liang. Hanzo had read through them to get an idea of what he was dealing with. He had a strong tolerance for stuff like this, but they had even him squirming. Threats to skin Kuai alive, to bathe him in acid, to take out his eyes and tongue, to lock him in a suitcase and throw him into the river. And those were the tame parts. Hanzo understood completely why the family had been so freaked out by them.

Well, everyone in the family except the one the threats were actually towards it seemed.

“If it brings your family peace of mind, is it not worth just going along with this until they are satisfied you aren’t in danger?” Maybe he could appeal to the other man by using his family, but the sideways glance told him it wasn’t that simple. “The problem right now is, there is no way to tell if those threats are real or not, and it is better to act as if they are than to ignore them.”

“I can not wait to say I told you so when it turns out this was all just a waste of your time.” Kuai shook his head, and all Hanzo could do in response was roll his eyes.

“Your family was right, you are a princess.” He hadn’t intended that to be said aloud, but Kuai’s head snapped over to him. Hanzo braced himself for yet more anger, but when he actually looked, all he could see was hurt. Probably not at what Hanzo said, but at the implication it was what his own family thought of him. “Kuai Liang, I-“

The door to the elevator opened, and Kuai pushed past him before Hanzo could stop him.

“Let’s just get this meeting over with,” Kuai spoke in a rough tone, and Hanzo grimaced. Well, looks like I’ve just managed to make this 100 times worse for myself. 

They didn’t say another word to each other. Kuai did speak, but only to the lady behind the desk about how he was here for a meeting. As they waited to be called in, they sat in silence. Hanzo contemplated saying something, apologising for his outburst, but by the time he got the nerve to do so, a door opened opposite them.

“Mr Song?” A man asked from the doorway. Hanzo vaguely recognised him from some of the fancy establishments he’d worked. Quan Chi, not the CEO of Netherrealm, but definitely one of the people with most influence and power in the company. “Delightful to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Kuai spoke as he pushed himself to stand up. Hanzo followed suit. Quan Chi raised an eyebrow at them. “I apologise but Hanzo will be standing in on this meeting.”

“A new recruit?” Quan Chi asked, eyeing Hanzo up and down with suspicion. Still he moved aside to let both of the men walk inside his office.

“Bodyguard,” Kuai explained with a dismissive hand wave. Any sympathy Hanzo had been feeling was immediately zapped away again.

“Hm. Well I have to admit I’m a little hurt that your father doesn’t trust me enough to send you without a chaperone.” Something about that statement made Hanzo go on high alert. On the surface, it had been said in quite the jovial tone, but there was an edge to it Hanzo couldn’t describe. Anger. Disappointment. 

Why would anyone be disappointed they wouldn’t be alone with someone unless they had bad intentions?

As Kuai and Quan Chi took their seats, Hanzo decided to stay standing, hovering right behind Kuai. He glared at the other man across the desk, although if he noticed, he never said anything.

“So, has your father looked over the proposal again?” Quan Chi questioned.

“He’s still not happy with it, I’m afraid.” Kuai reached into his bag, pulling out a stack of papers. He put them on the desk, pushing them towards Quan Chi. “Like always he’s highlighted the parts he has issue with.”

Quan Chi clicked his tongue and took the papers to leaf through them. “Your father is a hard man to please.”

“You have no idea,” Kuai said with an overdramatic sigh. “While I was still in education it was top grades or nothing.”

Quan Chi didn’t reply, in fact he barely registered that Kuai had even spoken. His eyes were glued on the proposal, and the further into it he got, the deeper his frown got. Clearly, whatever was contained on those papers was not to his liking. This seemed to start rubbing off on Kuai’s as well, who coughed nervously and straightened up.

“I am sorry for the inconvenience,” Kuai started, a nervous waver to his voice. His hand reached for his wrist, rubbing at it. “If it would make things easier for you, I could see if he’ll draft a version of the proposal, and then see if we can find a happy middle ground from that?”

Suddenly all that anger was gone from Quan Chi’s face, and he smiled at Kuai kindly. Too kindly. It felt so wrong. Hanzo had to resist the urge to shove himself in front of his charge.

“You really are very sweet, Kuai Liang.” Quan Chi put the papers down, resting his elbows on the desk and linking his fingers. “To think someone would be so callous as to make threats to your life.”

“I- what?” Kuai paused at that, very briefly glancing behind him at Hanzo. He instinctively grabbed hold of Kuai’s shoulder. “How did you know someone has been sending death threats?”

“Ah, did you not mention that earlier when you were explaining your bodyguard?” Quan Chi asked, tilting his head like he was innocent.

“No. I just said I had a bodyguard.” Kuai’s breathing slowed down, both his and Hanzo’s gaze was squarely on Quan Chi.

It was scary, just how calm Quan Chi was when he said, “hm, maybe your father mentioned it to me when I spoke with him last.”

“But he didn’t mention I’d have a bodyguard with me?” It was at this question that Quan Chi seemed to realise he was fighting a losing battle.

“I would appreciate you speaking with your father.” He cleared his throat and pushed himself to sit back against his chair. “I think that would be the best way to ensure everyone comes out of this on top.”

“Right,” Kuai breathed out, sounding surprisingly calm despite how rigid his body was. Hanzo gently squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do.” He reached a hand to tuck a strand of hair back, like he was desperate to find something to do with his hands. “Um, so, is there anything else you would like to speak about?”

“No, I think we should wait until your father draft’s his version of the deal.”

Hanzo was surprised by how quickly Kuai took this as a sign to stand up.

“Then I should go and get that sorted then.” Kuai sounded cheerful but it was obviously extremely forced. Hanzo didn’t say anything, just shot Quan Chi a glare as if to dare him to try anything, before turning to follow Kuai back towards the door of the office.

“Oh, Kuai Liang,” Quan Chi shouted just before the man in question had managed to step through the door. Kuai and Hanzo both turned to look at Quan Chi. The grin on his face was chillingly evil. “I do hope you find whoever is sending you those letters.”

Kuai took a sharp breath, nodding and turning to leave again. Hanzo couldn’t help but take hold of Kuai’s bicep, keeping him in a tight grip like that would somehow protect him. They didn’t speak though, even as they got into the elevator. It wasn’t long until they were heading back towards those glass doors, stepping onto the sidewalk and back into the waiting limo.

“Well,” Kuai whispered the second the limo’s engine began to rumble. He settled back into his seat, tilting his head back and gazing at the roof. “At least we have an idea of who is sending those letters.”

“Do you understand how serious this is now?” Hanzo asked, hoping maybe this was the wake up call he’d need.

“Fine. You were right, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” Kuai’s tone was annoyed, but he didn’t move.

“No. No, I did not want to be right.” And really he didn’t. Because as it stood, it meant Kuai Liang’s life was genuinely in danger. “I assume you know the rumours about Netherrealm?”

“That’s part of why Father’s been so careful with this deal.” He reached a hand to rub his chin. “In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious the threats had something to do with this. I have been the one doing a lot of the back and forth between parties.” He frowned. “Does feel a little like shooting the messenger though.”

Now that all the pieces were there, it was easier to put together the puzzle. Quan Chi was unhappy that Kuai’s Father was savvy enough in business to realise the deals being offered were unfairly favourable to Netherrealm. Instead of just taking the loss, he’d taken to threatening Kuai Liang’s life to intimidate them into accepting the deal. Hanzo had a feeling the threats weren’t idle or a bluff either. If Quan Chi didn’t get his way, he would make Kuai pay for it.

“I’m sorry,” Kuai finally muttered, pulling Hanzo out of his contemplation. Kuai was finally looking at him, hands in his lap and head hung slightly low. “I didn’t want to believe someone would really threaten such things against me. I thought maybe if I just pretended it didn’t bother me and wasn’t real, everything would turn out okay somehow.”

Hanzo understood what was really being said.

“I was scared, and I lashed out because of it.” 

“No, it is understandable that you would not want to believe someone would want to hurt you so.” Hanzo placed a hand over Kuai’s. “Kuai Liang, I know this is likely scary for you, but I assure you, so long as I am by your side I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

Kuai swallowed, but offered a small grateful smile and he breathed out, “thank you.”

“I think the real question is where we go from here.” Hanzo couldn’t imagine Kuai’s father would be happy to learn of their suspicions, or the issue that really they had no proof to do anything about it. “Really, we need extra time to gather solid evidence that it is Quan Chi behind it. Do we involve your father, or do we wait until we have more to show him?”

“Leave Bàba to me,” Kuai confidently declared with a smirk. “I know how to flutter my eyelashes and convince him everything is fine.” Hanzo raised an eyebrow at that, and Kuai giggled. “Hey, I know how to wield my princess powers. Being the brat has its upsides, having loud tantrums tends to overshadow any secrets I may be keeping.”

Hanzo couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “alright. I’ll trust in your expertise.”

Even with Kuai’s cooperation, this wasn’t going to be an easy job, but at least now the pair of them were on the same page. Hopefully that would make things go smoother.

Hopefully.

[steddieunderdogfics]

Conversations About Love by MuseumGiftShopEraser !!!! the bi aro rep that came for my throat and hasn't let go of it since

Conversations About Love by MuseumGiftShopEraser

@museumgiftshoperaser

Rating: Mature

41,803words, 9/9 chapters

Archive Warning:

Tags: Aromantic Steve Harrington, Steve has feelings for someone, the feeling is friendship, well... the feeling is confusion, Character Study, Dialogue Heavy, Queer platonic relationships, Sexuality Crisis, Sexuality crises (plural), Bad advice but they're all trying their best, Angst with a Happy Ending, a very queerplatonic happy ending, Platonic Soulmates, Self-Loathing, Negative Self Talk, Author is very clearly going through some shit, i'm fine!, Gay Eddie Munson, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Steve and Eddie meet at the halloween party, Weed, Alcohol, Aromantic, Character being outed, Canon-Typical Violence, season 3 type torture

Summary:

“Sounds like she was really fucking drunk,” Eddie sighs when Steve’s done recapping his disaster of a relationship. “People say shit they don’t mean when they’re wasted.” “You didn’t see her face,” he says. “It was like she could tell.” “What could she tell?” He rubs his face out of habit and is almost surprised to find the wet tear stains. Oh that’s right, he was crying. “That there’s something wrong with me.” *** Steve gets his heart absolutely shattered in a bathroom at a random Halloween party. He storms off so no one can tell he’s on the verge of tears and finds Eddie Munson smoking a joint in the master bedroom. Steve pours his heart out and tells Eddie that he just can’t get it to come naturally with Nancy. No matter how hard he tries so play at romance, he can’t love her the way he’s supposed to. Eddie, who’s known he’s queer since middle school, sees something of himself in Steve. But as their friendship progresses into something more, Steve has to confront the fact that he might not be gay after all.

Thanks for the rec!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[dari-ede]

In the Middle of the Night: Chapter 24

Chapter 24: "Si lo forzás se marchita"

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30

MASTERLIST

AN: And it’s back! Thank you everyone for your patience. It’s been quite the 2 months. Hopefully, I’ll be able to come back to a regular weekly, or at least Bi-weekly, posting. Happy reading! 🥰

Summary: As Bangtan prepares for a new chapter in their lives, they head to their private property in the forest for a songwriting workshop. As a songwriter and producer they have worked with for years, I’m asked to tag along. I was ready for the heavy workload and small amount of sleep during the workshop week. However, I wasn’t ready for the storm that came that changed my friendship with Namjoon forever.

Pairing: Idol!RM/Namjoon x OFC

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut

Rating: M (mention of sexual assault, explicit language, sexual scenes in prior chapters)

Status: COMPLETE

Trigger warnings: hurt, heartache, anxiety (there are a lot of feels in this one)

Warnings: a BRIEF description of sexual assault (look for ***)

*****************

I don’t think I have ever cried as much as I did on that first day. There was a tightness in my chest like I was trying to breathe underwater. My ribs felt cracked from the numerous attempts of taking in a full breath. My lungs weren’t getting enough oxygen, the sobbing made it hard to. When my mouth would open, at first I thought it was to absorb the colorless gas my body needed to survive but instead, it was to let out sounds I had never heard myself make. It was a siren-type wail. I felt like La Llorona, searching for the person I cared most for but couldn’t find. Couldn’t find him because the monster inside me had caused him to leave. I had caused the destruction. I had murdered what I treasured most. I was the reason for my own pain.

I wanted nothing more than to call him. I would grovel and beg—whatever he wanted, I would do. Whatever demands he had, I would obediently follow. I would do it all just to have him back. To have him close.

I didn’t care how pathetic I sounded. Didn’t care how wrecked I looked.

I just wanted to breathe again. And he was the source of it.

It was in those first hours of crying out in agony that I realized the truth of what Namjoon had become for me. He had become the most vital chemical element to keep my body alive: oxygen. The little air I was able to inhale felt so wrong, almost poisonous. Rather than healing me, it was slowly killing me.

Fuck, I was so pitiful.

I was in pieces for a guy who didn’t feel the same for me as I did for him. Didn’t see a proper woman he wanted to be with. Didn’t recognize me as a person to respect.

“You’ve given it up easy before.”

Fresh, boiling tears made their way down my overheated face as the words echoed over and over and over. The siren came back out.

My stomach began to cramp from the shaking. My body automatically curled up, trying to ease the pain.

I think that’s how my tia found me.

At first, I didn’t recognize the voice. It sounded too high, too screechy. Tia Jia was normally so calm and sweet sounding. Had it not been for the familiar smell of orange blossom, I wouldn’t have known it was her.

I’m not sure where she found me, but I was certain it wasn’t in my room. I don’t know how I managed to drive myself home that night, but I remember parking. I recall entering my house. I think I might have sat on the couch? The living room was the last thing I remembered physically seeing. Everything after was a blur—literally. The tears made it difficult to see anything.

The next time I recognized my surroundings, I was in my bed.

My head felt like it was splitting into pieces, but I was aware of my aunt holding me. Her scent and embrace sent a bit of warmth through me. When I realized she was there, I only cried harder. It was like I was a toddler and the only way I would feel better was through her touch and words. That’s what moms are for, right? To erase all the pain and make everything better?

I clutched her desperately. Praying she would be able to eradicate the ache.

But after what seemed an eternity, it was still there. The fucking pain was still present. It was the first time in my memory that my tia Jia couldn’t make it better. And this made my chest shatter. The siren in me wailed until my vocals gave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sweetheart, you have to eat.”

My tia Jia was sitting next to me in my bed, a tray on her lap.

The motherly strokes on my hair were comforting, but still not enough. It had been a while since my body exhausted itself. Tears were still coming out and my stomach, chest, and head still felt like they had gone through a car crash, but at least the wailing and shaking stopped. I could take normal breaths now, even though it still felt wrong.

“Sweetheart?” Tia Jia’s voice sounded strained, like in pain. I was alert enough to detect it.

There was another kick to the stomach. I felt guilty for my state. It must be tough on her. I could at least answer her. “No, thank you,” I let out. It hurt to speak.

My aunt heard the scratchiness in my voice. “At least have some water. Please.”

She sounded so desperate. I couldn’t say no. I lifted my hand, motioning for the water.

She quickly handed me the flask, which thankfully had a straw attached to it. I wouldn’t have to sit up to drink from it. Bringing the straw to my lips, I took a sip. My throat and dehydrated skin welcomed it. I was about to put it back down, but my logical mind forced my mouth to take at least one more long sip.

Closing the straw, I set down the flask next to me.

There was silence for a while again. The only thing I could feel was my tia’s touch on my hair and face.

Finally, she spoke up. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Warm, new tears flowed down my cheeks.

“Did something happen with Namjoon?” she asked, gently.

I sniffed. “He broke it off.”

She let out a pained sigh. “Why?”

“I can’t do this, Maya. I can’t be in a relationship where it’s just about sex. I want more.”

New sobs began to make their way through my chest and traveled up my throat and down my eyes. “I’m not what he wants.”

It felt like a knife cut into my chest again. My old wounds still had not healed, so they quickly reopened.

Many years ago I developed a crush on Namjoon. I was quick to recognize it. However, for many reasons, I suppressed those emotions. One of those reasons had been that I knew I wasn’t his type. Physically or emotionally. Sure, he had eventually found me attractive and he started to develop a crush on me back. But he had realized last night I wasn’t built to be someone he could have a relationship with.

Namjoon was someone who loved to talk about philosophy and the human condition. We shared plenty of deep conversations, but I had never been able to fully let him in. There would always be a wall that prevented him from fully entering. And I just couldn’t take it down.

I explained little bits to my tia Jia about what Namjoon had said. I mentioned how my mother had called about the fucker. I admitted that I was still unable to talk to Namjoon about the incident and I wasn’t entirely sure if I wanted to tell him about it. It was because of all my issues that made Namjoon not want me.

I curled into a ball as I finished my story to my tia. My stomach aches were starting again and my heart was racing pretty fast.

My tia applied some pressure on my chest. “Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.”

I followed her instructions. It took a few minutes but I had settled down again.

When my aunt felt safe to speak again, she did. “Sweetheart…what is keeping you from being fully transparent with Namjoon?”

I gave a pathetic shrug and didn’t answer. I knew it was a childish response.

“Well, I think it would be a good thing to figure out, don’t you think so?” she lightly pressed.

“Even if I did open up, I’m not what he wants, tia,” I mumbled.

“Now what would make you say that?” There was a bit of chiding in her tone.

“Because he’s known me for how long and I just now started catching his eye? He only became interested in me because I was the only girl around him who was available. After his bad break up, he’s been looking for a rebound.” I was finally voicing fleeting thoughts I had had in the starting part of my relationship with Namjoon. These thoughts had never lingered for too long, but in a state of complete low, my self-pity was scrapping for any negativity it could find.

My aunt wasn’t about to let me swim in that self-pity, though. “That breakup happened two years ago. His rebound was that girl he dated briefly earlier in the year. You are not his rebound.”

There was silence again.

My brain internally battled with my broken heart. Logically, I believed my tia Jia’s words, but the ache in my chest was marinading in the words that had shattered me.

“You’ve given it up easily before, whatever. I’m not that way.”

“The fact that…you did that with me…. I just don’t know how to feel about that.”

“We started this wrong. But like a fucking horndog, I gave in.”

“I can’t even say we can go back to being friends because I can’t. I can’t and won’t go back to that. I respect myself too much.”

“He still doesn’t want to be with me,” I said as my throat tightened. “It doesn’t matter if I tell him what he wants to hear. At the end of the day, my self-respect apparently doesn’t align with his. I’ll always be the girl who took it up the ass.”

“What?” Tia Jia asked, thrown off.

I hadn’t shared this piece of information with my aunt. The detail was a little too intimate for me to have shared with her. But I had spilled the beans; she couldn’t unhear it and I couldn’t unsay it.

“We had sex before the fight—before my mother called. It was anal.” I felt a flush of embarrassment hit my cheeks and neck, but I continued speaking. “During the fight, he brought up how he valued the act we had committed and I didn’t. I'm just a slut in his eyes.”

“He did not call you that,” my tia said with conviction. But then a beat later, she doubted herself. “Did he?”

“He might as well have,” I said in a small voice.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said simply. She didn’t say anything else, though. This time, she let me cry and wallow in my self-pity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I honestly couldn’t remember how that night went. I mostly stayed in my room. My tia stayed the night with me. I caught her a couple of times on my phone. I was sure she was taking care of things for me, not that I had a lot of meetings. I might have had one, but I honestly couldn’t care less about it.

I was grateful she was there to handle it.

I had never felt this vulnerable before. Never been so pathetic. The last time I felt this low had been many years ago when my cousin died. But that had been a different kind of heartache. I dealt with the death mostly in anger. This time, there was no one but me to be angry at.

And as much as I wanted to bathe in self-anger, I couldn’t. Sorrow was all I could feel.

My tia eventually had to leave. “Your Uncle John has an appointment, sweetheart. If you want, I can come right after.”

I shook my head at her. “I’m good.”

She stared at the food next to me on the bed. “At least eat the vegetables, please. You didn’t eat dinner last night and this morning, you only had a few grapes. Lunch was left completely untouched. The least you can do is eat the vegetables.”

I reached out to my plate and grabbed a celery, taking a bite without a word.

“Thank you,” she said genuinely. She began to gather her things. “If you need anything, just go downstairs. Someone’s here to keep an eye on you.”

I wanted to argue with her and tell her I didn’t need looking after. I was positive she had called Jenny, her daughter and my best friend from childhood, to come look after me. However, I knew my tia well enough to know it would do no good.

She came around and gave me a soft kiss. “I’m only a phone call away. Do you want your cell with you?” she asked as she motioned towards my night table.

I shook my head. It was getting close to it being 48 hours since I touched that thing. I wanted to stay away from it for as long as possible.

“Love you,” she said as she disappeared into the hall.

I rolled over and closed my eyes, hoping sleep would come fast.

It did manage to come for several hours but my body had had enough of it. When I woke up, the stars had replaced the sun in the sky. There was a sudden sharp pain in my head. My body was angry at me for neglecting it. I pushed off the bed and felt an immediate cold.

I put on some pajama bottoms and put on thick socks. I think I had showered sometime yesterday because I surprisingly didn’t feel crusty. I touched my hair, feeling it damp. It was the confirmation I needed that I had, in fact showered sometime in the last 24 hours. Sometimes, I tended to put my hair up in a bun right after showering. This only prolonged my thick hair from fully drying.

After applying more layers of clothes and being grateful for not smelling, I took the plate of food that was still on my bed and took my water flask. Maybe I could microwave the food.

As I made my way down the hall, I adjusted the thermostat to warm up the house and went to get my food reheated.

Coming closer to the kitchen, I noticed the lights were on. After entering, I quickly saw the refrigerator open and a person standing behind it. Jenny must be up for a late-night snack.

“Don’t eat the cake; it’s gone bad,” I warned.

“I’m not craving sweets anyway,” came a deep and husky voice.

My heart stopped, panicking. I didn’t recognize the voice right away, so I acted on instinct. I placed down my food and took hold of the nearest, heavy object.

Before I could demand who was in my house, Yoongi’s head popped out from the other side of the fridge.

I let out a heavy and relieved sigh. “Son of a bitch, Yoongi. You scared the shit out of me.” I set down the heavy object, which turned out to be a rather pricey jar. Thank god I hadn’t used it. That would have been an expensive mistake.

He frowned. “I thought eomeonim told you I was here.”

I had completely forgotten I had invited Yoongi and his team to stay at my house. I had mentioned it to my Tia Jia after Yoongi agreed to stay over. The day we decided on Yoongi coming over, I was set to have a meeting. Tia Jia was going to be here to let Yoongi and the two guys in. That must have been last night. Or this morning. Shit, what day were we on?

I rubbed my head, feeling the sharp pain in my head again.

“Hungry?” Yoongi asked, a small hint of concern in his voice.

I nodded. “I was going to heat this up,” I said, motioning to the food.

He stared at the plate for a moment, no emotion given. Then reached over, took it, and placed it away from me. “Want a sandwich?” he asked as he turned around to the refrigerator again.

“It’s fine. I can just heat up the plate.”

“It’s gone bad.”

“Since when are you picky?” I asked, feeling irritated all of a sudden. “I’ve eaten pizza that’s been sitting out for 2 days.”

“Bet your stomach didn’t feel proud about that,” he muttered, taking out ingredients.

“I’m alive still, aren’t I?” I shot back.

He turned to me and did a once-over on me. He shook his head in disbelief. “Have you looked in the mirror? You look like death.”

I flipped him off.

That made him crack a smile. He reached for my water flask and filled it up.

I gladly took it, drinking a long sip.

We were quiet for a while as he put together a sandwich for me. Yoongi and I had eaten together plenty of times, not to mention cooked alongside one another. He knew my preferences.

After a long moment, he finally spoke up. “How you feeling?”

I took a breath, starting to feel my stomach get queasy. “Like shit,” I said genuinely.

I felt his eyes on me. He went still for a long moment, probably assessing what he could and should say.

There was a yearning in me that wanted to ask Yoongi about Namjoon. Fuck, just thinking of his name squeezed at my chest. An image of his beautiful dimples crossed my mind. The cluster of freckles across his nose and eyes would turn into a constellation whenever he smiled a certain way. But then the red eyes that were so full of hurt that night replaced the image, breaking my heart all over again.

The sound of a plate being placed down made me snap to the present. In front of me was a very good-looking sandwich. I knew Yoongi’s skills enough to know it was delicious. Yet, I had little interest in eating it. I knew my body needed to eat, so I took a few bites. I tasted the flavors of the ingredients and knew they were a perfect fusion, but I still felt zero enthusiasm for it. I managed to eat half of it, my stomach somewhat satisfied. After a few more sips of water, I felt the headache start to wear off.

When Yoongi noticed I was done eating, he finally spoke up. “Want to talk about it?”

It was strange because I did and I didn’t. I didn’t want to relive that night. But I also knew I needed to let out my emotions.

I took a breath and tried to control the tears that started to form in my eyes. “I can’t give him what he wants.” Saying the truth out loud hurt a lot more than just thinking about it.

He was silent for a moment before he spoke. “And what does he want?”

The warm tears made their way down. “Not me.”

There was silence for a long moment. The truth lingered in the air and pressed down on me.

After a long moment, Yoongi finally spoke. “Namjoon very rarely goes after something he is not sure about.”

There was almost a somber look on his face. He wasn’t looking at me, but in so many ways, it certainly felt like he was looking right into my eyes.

“He wants you, Maya.”

Conflicting emotions ran through me at hearing this. I knew Yoongi well enough to know that he was always honest. He would never say something he didn’t mean just to spare my feelings or make me feel better. But then Namjoon’s words the other night echoed in my head, telling me that I wasn’t what Namjoon wanted. It was so hard to think clearly.

“You don’t think he does.” Yoongi’s voice was soft and certain.

I gave a short nod, not trusting myself to speak without becoming a sobbing mess.

Yoongi let out a heavy sigh. “Sad.”

I was confused about what he meant by that. But, again, I was too scared to use words at the moment.

He stayed in the kitchen with me as I picked through my food. Eventually, we made our way over to the backyard where he drank his whisky into the night and I curled on the outside couch and looked up into the dark sky. I searched through the constellations, trying to find the freckles that would hopefully give me some solace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next couple of days passed slowly. My tia called several times, checking on me. I didn’t stay long with her on the phone, finding my throat too sore to speak for too long.

She didn’t push it. For a brief moment, I was a little confused why she wasn’t calling more often or insisting I stay on the phone with her longer. However, I noticed how closely Yoongi observed me. He usually was in the room with me or in the next room. I caught him texting a lot.

He used his phone for researching random facts, watching movies, documentaries, and playing odd mobile games. He had plenty of friends he messaged. Yes, he was usually glued to his phone, but I still noticed he was on it more than usual. I was certain he was keeping Tia Jia up to date about me.

Had his staff been around, I would have felt embarrassed about being treated like some fragile kid, but thankfully, Yoongi had sent them away insisting they explore the city on their own. A part of me wondered if they had heard about my walk of shame. Did they hear about how I had left Namjoon’s hotel room looking like some cheap whore?

The sting lingered throughout my chest, cracking my ribs.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Yoongi asked, pulling me away from my heartache.

It was night and I lived in a secluded area. Even if we came across other people, they wouldn’t be able to see us clearly. They wouldn’t notice Yoongi. I thought for a moment, debating with myself. I hadn’t left my house in days; hadn’t seen other faces. I had been bathing in my self-pity for many nights. Maybe it was time I snapped out of it. A walk would be good.

After nodding, we got ourselves ready and headed toward the beach.

We walked along the sand for a long while, and no words were said.

Eventually, Yoongi spoke. “How you feeling?”

Since the first night he had arrived, he asked me this towards the end of the day.

I gave a shrug. “A little better.”

He gave a nod. “Have you gone through your messages yet?” he asked carefully.

I had confessed to him yesterday morning I hadn’t looked through my messages since that night. I was scared to see Namjoon’s name on it—I couldn’t deal with reading through his words. Would they cut deeper? Bury me lower than I already was?

But what if he hadn’t written me? Somehow, his sending me nothing would be much worse.

Looking through my messages right now wouldn’t do me any good. I shook my head.

Yoongi let out a heavy sigh, similar to the one he had given the other night.

The scene replayed in my head and I remembered my unspoken question. I couldn’t ask it that night, but I could tonight. “What did you mean when you said ‘sad’ the other night?”

Yoongi was quiet for a moment. It was like he was thinking about his words carefully before speaking to them out loud. “I find it sad that you’re not allowing someone to truly see you.”

I was too stunned by his words to give a vocal response. My head turned to him, wondering if he was going to further elaborate.

He did. Keeping his eyes ahead, he continued his walk and I kept up. “As a friend of yours, I’ve seen parts of you—some of them aren’t great qualities—and still, I love you.”

Tears came to my eyes. It was rare to hear Yoongi tell me he loved me. Any time he did, it would move me because I knew it wasn't easy for him.

“You’ve been around Namjoon during some of his bad moments; moments that would paint him negatively. Do you feel differently about him—knowing and witnessing his bad qualities?”

Shaking I said softly but strongly, “No.”

“How do you feel after seeing him make mistakes and show his flaws?”

Moments of bad decisions Namjoon had made in his past crossed my mind. Yoongi’s question lingered throughout the memories. And all I could feel was my heart grow warm and expand.

I could feel Yoongi’s eyes on me. I hadn’t said a thing but seemed to be hearing my thoughts. “That’s what it means to care about someone—to accept the good and the bad. Whatever shit you’re afraid of in your past, fuck it. Don’t let it keep you from allowing someone amazing like Namjoon in.”

Suddenly, the face of the fucker entered my mind.

******His hands on me. I sat frozen, feeling my body lit up in flames.*******

Was the fucker the reason why I had this goddamn wall up? I thought I had moved on from him. Had he crept back into my subconscious and made me vulnerable again? Was he the reason why a wall existed that prevented me from allowing Namjoon in?

These last few days I thought it was just the way I was built. I could never be what Namjoon needed. I wasn’t made to let someone fully in. Having gone through therapy years ago I thought that I had grown as much as I could have.

I felt the arms around me before the tears. It wasn’t until Yoongi was hugging me that I noticed I had been crying. My face was wet, my nose was runny.

“It’s not just Namjoon that would like to break down that wall,” Yoongi said softly as he held me. “We all notice it. Some of us understand on a more personal level than others, unfortunately."

We shared a knowing look. He was meaning himself. Yoongi also had his wall. 

"You feel it's easier to keep people at a distance," he said, holding eye contact. "The guys taught me differently."

I looked away, feeling a bit of shame for having my faults.

Yoongi kept talking. "The guys and I normally never push—Namjoon especially. He respects boundaries. He allows everyone to open up at their own pace. But it's different with you. He needs more. And I believe you need more, too.”

Suddenly, my heartache grew. It was no longer just about a breakup. It was about learning that I was broken.

I needed fixing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I picked up my phone. My finger hovered over my KakaoTalk app. Dozens of notifications were still unread. Were any of them from Namjoon?

As much as I wanted to look through them, I knew deep down I shouldn’t click on them.

Not yet.

My finger moved over to Contacts, selecting and calling the person I was needing the most.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes were focused on the assistant’s desk. Since walking through the door, the feeling of déjà vu had been lingering through the air.

The lobby had remained the same. The portraits on the walls hadn’t changed. The couch I was sitting on was the same one as years ago.

I clutched my phone, this time having no one on the other end that was cheering me on for being where I was.

The urge to turn my phone on and go directly to my messages was strong. But like I had the other million times, I ignored it.

In my deluded, damaged mind I saw him sitting next to me. His dimples were deep and beautiful. That proud look was written all over his face.

“Hi, Maya. Come on in,” Dr. Rob said gently with a kind smile.

I returned the smile and got to my feet. As I made my way into his office, I could clearly hear Namjoon’s deep, timber voice behind me.

“hwaiting!”

As pathetic as it appeared, it worked. I felt a sudden burst of courage.

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

MASTERLIST

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30

[friendly-books]

Dresden files Storm Front live blog

Dresden files live blog  

I read the dresden files after reading Wedding Bells… No More like Hell’s Bells by @jadedragoness so this is going to be interesting. 

Storm front 

Murphy! I’m going to like you

Sqeee Marcone! And Hendricks!

We get Marcone in chapter two yay!

“A man of handsome and unassuming features” pg. 45 Bi Harry 1

“Good looking, tanned, athletic, and enthusiastic” pg. 46 Bi Harry 2

This was not the romantic met cute I wanted 

“He wanted to take a peek at my soul. He wanted to see what sort of man I was” pg. 50 Interesting implications 

Ugh male gaze 

“I borrowed a line from Johnny Marcone” pg.  59 Already 

Morgan you and Inspector Javert would get along. 

Mister! 

Bob! :)

Toot-toot! 

Why did you attack Harry Bianca? What was your plan here? If Harry did kill Jennifer what do you think you can do against him? If Harry didn’t kill Jennifer then you just attacked an innocent man. 

Did Bianca kill Rachel? I think she killed her.

Beckitt’s? As in Demeter? 

He Who Walks Behind sounds like a name with all its capital letters.

Harry forgot about his date with Susan oh no

Morgan is the worst the absolute worst 

Harry using the power of a storm is cool

I like Susan she seems fun

More Marcone yay

Harry put on a show that poor building what did it ever due to you?

“You should have known me better than that Mr. Dresden” It was my turn to frown “You’re right. I should have” pg. 260 Yes you really should have, you’ve seen his soul Harry. 

“Then he smiled for a fraction of a second” pg. 262 Harry already making Marcone smile 

“Harry” pg. 262 Already talking with first names. I know Harry won’t like that but my shipper heart adores it. 

“Good luck. I think it would be best if you and I did not encounter one another in the future. I cannot tolerate any more interference in my affairs'' pg. 263 Pfff that’s not going to happen. Marcone is definitely showing up in the next book. 

Harry’s dad no now I’m sad 

Harry buddy I talk to myself occasionally but this is a bit much. 

“Fuego” pg. 278 Is this the first bit of fire magic in the book? I think it is. Pretty late to show off Harry’s classic spell.

Victor isn’t very smart because he is summoning a demon.

The fight was cool! 

I’m glad Murphy is ok and threw the flowers at Harry. I’m glad they’re friends again. I’m glad Harry got his date with Susan. I like that Toot-toot got his pizza in the end. 

Final thoughts I like all the characters so far. Not a fan of the male gaze. I’m absolutely a Harry/Marcone shipper thanks to @jadedragoness. Let’s see how far the Bi Harry counter can go. “He wanted to take a peek at my soul. He wanted to see what sort of man I was” Has interesting implications in that Marcone seems to know what a soul gaze is and he knows about magic. Not sure if I’m reading too much into it. Not a fan of Morgan he needs to take a chill pill and stop being such a Knight Templar. I’m pretty sure Bianca killed Rachel which isn’t great. Like lady you could have stopped before you drained Rachel dry. Bianca isn’t the smartest person around. I didn’t realize that the Beckett’s were all the way back in book 1. He Who Walks Behind is differently coming back. Like you don’t have a name like that and not be important. The fight scenes were cool. I thought there would be more spell slinging. Overall I liked it.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: J. Dreyfus, Esq.

Published: Aug 5, 2023

I came out in 1986. Not ideal timing. I started working professionally in 1990 & was open about it. I worked with gay theatre companies doing gay plays. I was told, repeatedly, that being out would damage my career. I was told to keep it quiet. How it would ‘limit my chances’. 1 

Don’t forget that back then, in many people’s minds, being gay & AIDS was synonymous. So it was always difficult. But I refused to listen. I know many people to this day who have chosen to remain quiet about their sexuality. Which is entirely their decision. It didn’t work 2. 

..for me. Which was fine too. The Equality Shows by the, then, marvellous & supportive Stonewall, promised just that. Equality. Nothing more. Nothing less. I was invited as one of the very few out gay performers to high kick with The Tiller Girls at the Albert Hall. Along …3 

..with Gambaccini, Somerville, O’Grady, Fry etc. All there for equality. For gay, lesbian & bi people. People who were persecuted or loathed for SAME SEX ATTRACTION. Fast forward. Equality, in law, achieved. There were & will always be those that actively despise us..4 

..and nothing will change their minds. I was led to believe that I’d no longer be referred to “an openly gay actor” . I’d simply be known as “another actor”. Which was exactly what I hoped for. To be treated NO differently than anyone else. No preferential or patronising …5 

..treatment. No excuses. No pandering. No special handling. My hope was that this eternal labelling would fade away. That it no longer would be an issue. That we’d get to a place where no one actually cared. Because then, & only then, could we lay claim to true equality…6 

Well, I don’t mind admitting how wrong I was to assume that would be the natural outcome. Fast forward. Now, the labelling is out of all control. Kids are taught that perfectly normal oscillating feelings indicate something is wrong. Or that they’re special & unique. ..7. 

Of course they’re going to swallow it hook line & sinker! They’re kids! Of course, they’re going to grow up thinking labelling is the way forward. Identifying ‘as’, instead of ‘with’. But it’s ONLY because it’s been force fed to them by adults who, frankly, should know better. 8 

By imposing this insistence on distinguishing yourself through labels, you’ve grossly ADDED to the already complex & difficult time of youth & change. You’ve run with a relatively new & spurious ideology & given kids nothing but confusion, difficulties, mental health issues..9 

..& hugely increased anxieties, leading to a leap in bullying & self harm. You’ve encouraged school, clubs, camps, universities & institutions to push this onto kids from year dot. And you NOW sit back & say, “What on earth is going on with young people? Why are some …10. 

..so aggressive, so lacking in empathy, so narcissistic, so entitled! Whatever happened??” YOU. You happened. You thought you were doing that right thing. You followed the prevailing wind of the day. You bought the Pokémon, the Tamagotchi, the latest fad… As this trend…11. 

..fades, & it will, as all trends do, what are you going to say? How will you explain? How will you disentangle yourselves from this man-made storm you participated in spreading? Please don’t let stubborn pride prevent you from attempting to undo the harm that’s been done 12 

Don’t double-down when the evidence of your errors is staring you right in the face. You should have simply left the kids OUT OF IT. But that would have been impossible, wouldn’t it? Because without the kids, this ideology is f**ked…. …right?? /