#like OBVIOUSLY its not literally true but number one its fun to read into things

[dashiellqvverty]

always think its funny when people are into a particular rpf ship but get antagonistic/hostile/morally superior towards other rpf ships like girl we are all in the same house here

[artisimpossible]

Saw a fun little conversation on Threads but I don't have a Threads account, so I couldn't reply directly, but I sure can talk about it here!

I've been wanting to get into this for awhile, so here we go! First and foremost, I wanna say that "Emmaskies" here is really hitting the nail on the head despite having "no insider info". I don't want this post to be read as me shitting on trad pub editors or authors because that is fundamentally not what's happening.

Second, I want to say that this reply from Aaron Aceves is also spot on:

There are a lot of reviewers who think "I didn't enjoy this" means "no one edited this because if someone edited it, they would have made it something I like". As I talk about nonstop on this account, that is not a legitimate critique. However, as Aaron also mentions, rushed books are a thing that also happens.

As an author with 2 trad pub novels and 2 trad pub anthologies (all with HarperCollins, the 2nd largest trad publisher in the country), let me tell you that if you think books seem less edited lately, you are not making that up! It's true! Obviously, there are still a sizeable number of books that are being edited well, but something I was talking about before is that you can't really know that from picking it up. Unlike where you can generally tell an indie book will be poorly edited if the cover art is unprofessional or there are typoes all over the cover copy, trad is broken up into different departments, so even if editorial was too overworked to get a decent edit letter churned out, that doesn't mean marketing will be weak.

One person said that some publishers put more money into marketing than editorial and that's why this is happening, but I fundamentally disagree because many of these books that are getting rushed out are not getting a whole lot by way of marketing either! And I will say that I think most authors are afraid to admit if their book was rushed out or poorly edited because they don't want to sabotage their books, but guess what? I'm fucking shameless. Café Con Lychee was a rush job! That book was poorly edited! And it shows! Where Meet Cute Diary got 3 drafts from me and my beta readers, another 2 drafts with me and my agent, and then another 2 drafts with me and my editor, Café Con Lychee got a *single* concrete edit round with my editor after I turned in what was essentially a first draft. I had *three weeks* to rewrite the book before we went to copy edits. And the thing is, this wasn't my fault. I knew the book needed more work, but I wasn't allowed more time with it. My editor was so overworked, she was emailing me my edit letter at 1am. The publisher didn't care if the book was good, and then they were upset that its sales weren't as high at MCD's, but bffr. A book that doesn't live up to its potential is not going to sell at the same rate as one that does!

And this may sound like a fluke, but it's not. I'm not naming names because this is a deeply personal thing to share, but I have heard from *many* authors who were not happy with their second books. Not because they didn't love the story but because they felt so rushed either with their initial drafts or their edits that they didn't feel like it lived up to their potential. I also know of authors who demanded extra time because they knew their books weren't there yet only to face big backlash from their publisher or agent.

I literally cannot stress to you enough that publisher's *do not give a fuck* about how good their products are. If they can trick you into buying a poorly edited book with an AI cover that they undercut the author for, that is *better* than wasting time and money paying authors and editors to put together a quality product. And that's before we get into the blatant abuse that happens at these publishers and why there have been mass exoduses from Big 5 publishers lately.

There's also a problem where publishers do not value their experienced staff. They're laying off so many skilled, dedicated, long-term committed editors like their work never meant anything. And as someone who did freelance sensitivity reading for the Big 5, I can tell you that the way they treat freelancers is *also* abysmal. I was almost always given half the time I asked for and paid at less than *half* of my general going rate. Authors publishing out of their own pockets could afford my rate, but apparently multi-billion dollar corporations couldn't. Copy edits and proofreads are often handled by freelancers, meaning these are people who aren't familiar with the author's voice and often give feedback that doesn't account for that, plus they're not people who are gonna be as invested in the book, even before the bad payment and ridiculous timelines.

So, anyway, 1. go easy on authors and editors when you can. Most of us have 0 say in being in this position and authors who are in breech of their contract by refusing to turn in a book on time can face major legal and financial ramifications. 2. Know that this isn't in your head. If you disagree with the choices a book makes, that's probably just a disagreement, but if you feel like it had so much potential but just *didn't reach it*, that's likely because the author didn't have time to revise it or the editor didn't have time to give the sort of thorough edits it needed. 3. READ INDIE!!! Find the indie authors putting in the work the Big 5's won't do and support them! Stop counting on exploitative mega-corporations to do work they have no intention of doing.

Finally, to all my readers who read Café Con Lychee and loved it, thank you. I love y'all, and I appreciate y'all, and I really wish I'd been given the chance to give y'all the book you deserved. I hope I can make it up to you in 2025.

[bestjeanistmonster]

hey I always wandered why do you chose certain characters in roles for your DC au like sonic as Harley Quinn or knuckles as bat man?

also I love your content btw!

usually i just choose what character roles i think would be interesting to explore for that character, or just what would be most fun

like when you think of Sonic in the dc universe you would instantly think ‘ok he would be the flash’, and its true that he would probably make a pretty good flash and a good story could come out of that, or maybe making Amy ‘harley quinn’ and again lots of character stuff you could do with that

But those options kinda just. write themselves tbh, its a bit too easy for me to just choose those options and call it a day cuz just looking at them you’d get their entire deal.

So when im choosing character roles im basically asking myself, not just ‘what sonic character would fit in this dc role the best’ but ‘what would this specific sonic character have to do/go through to become some version of this character’ or ‘what how would this dc role have to be moulded to fit this sonic character’

lets take Shadow for example!

he was the first person i made Shadow would obviously be batman, just looking at him and his backstory he would make an amazing batman, he fits that pretty well no question

but at the time i made Shadow poison ivy, i was reading the the comic series ‘Poison Ivy: The Virtuous Cycle’, it went into detail into Ivy’s hatred for humanity and how they’re destroying the planet, and how she plans to kill all of them off (including herself) in order to save it. It was so interesting to think about her hatred for humanity this way, so interesting that my brain was like ‘wow if when shadow woke up from his cryostasis and learnt all this he’d probably wanna kill humanity even more lol’

then i thought about it more, Poison Ivy cares deeply for the environment and basically wants to kill all humans cuz they’re destroying the planet and giving Shadow that role kinda adds another layer to that because human’s are destroying the world that Maria so desperately wanted to see and he can literally feel the planet dying cuz of that plant connection + the fact that he was created artificially in a lab by humans (plus alien deadbeat) away from the planet and having that intrinsic connection to that planet below the Ark his whole life, a direct connection to the planet that Maria loved so much, a connection that he would’ve never fully known the extent of if GUN hadn’t raided.

So what if wanting to destroy the planet, he wanted to save it and to save it he had eradicated a certain ‘infestation’, humanity.

that was super interesting to me to explore as a concept so Poison Ivy!Shadow, the first character in my dc au was born!!!

it’s important to me that though im making Shadow and Ivy have the same role im not just copypasting Ivy’s backstory onto Shadow, they’re different characters and those backstories aren’t necessarily interchangeable, different things happened to make them who they are and one might not work for the other.

And if i do make the backstory similar, i wanna make changes so i can justify why they made these choices, like with what i did Sonic

Sonic’s dc au backstory follows similar beats as Harley Quinn’s backstory, but i added some details make it more believable for me to understand how Sonic could ever became what Harleen Quinzel became. So i started him out Nicky from the sonic manga, an insecure, weak, nerdy kid that’s easy for people to beat up and pick on, so he’d be someone with vulnerabilities and insecurities. Then i had Tails and Amy be his number 1 protectors cuz he can’t protect himself, his insecurities deepening cuz of this (not only can he not protect himself, he doesn’t even have the strength to protect them), he lived in the worst place in gotham, etc. Basically a lot of stuff that Eggman could use to exploit and manipulate him.

this made it really interesting and fun for me to delve into his mindset and see how he would tick!

then from Sonic’s kidnapping came Tails and Amy’s motivations to become vigilantes, to save their friend, people like their friend and to stop people like the joker from hurting them

other times times i just make the choices based on vibes and what would fit the plot <3

this character exploration and thinking process is why i personally don’t allow ppl to make character suggestions for any of my aus, cuz its really a personal process of picking out roles and dissecting them in my brain

but yh that’s pretty much why i picked who i picked lol

ty for the question!

[drifloonz]

would luv more general steven(or s!3v3n) x reader hcs..

i am so sorry you caught me in the middle of vc. some of these. also i accidentally closed the fucking tab and had to rewrite all of this. i hate being a writer on tumblr.

some of these are by my friends. some of them r by me. some are funny. some are serious. Some are all and or both

i just realized these are only general steven headcanons i am so fucking sorry i was tired and it was like 4-6 am. take them anyways i'll edit like a few actual x reader ones in

_______

he doesn't get outwardly super scared, but he DOES shiver or make discontented noises when he's scared. playing horror games with him is kinda funny. if you make him play a vr horror game he will hate you forever and ever. it's rly funny tho.

he tries way too hard. with everything. pre-incident? being a role model, being cool, being a trainer, being a champion for like one month, being stereotypically romantic, etc. post-incident? being scary, being intimidating, etc.

despite this he is still very dorky and awkward. at least pre-incident. it was common. type of guy to lean on a wall but he falls

he wears light cologne. i'd say he wears axe 3-in-1 but that'd be way too rude to both me and other stevenlikers.

pre-incident he trips over his words sometimes, sometimes his tones too flat, sometimes he speaks too loudly or quietly, etc etc. Basically. 'tism.

he's good at clue, the board game.

pronounces gif like "g.i.f" ( like it's an acronym ). please, god, make fun of him for this.

his hands are always cold for no fucking reason post-incident. if you hold his hands in the summer it kind of helps the heat go away. love wins

really wanted a guitar. he's a dork so he does air guitar sometimes when no ones looking or does guitar motions while holding a long thing that isn't a guitar. He would play guitar hero and be absolutely mid at it but blue and red think he's the coolest fucking thing ever for it. This is inspired by somebody elses hc i think(????). if u read this. ur a real one and r so true.

because of this if you actually got him a guitar i think he'd make a small genuine smile. he has executive dysfunction and depression so itd probably take a while for him to actually do anything with it, but he rlly appreciates the gesture.

also kinda has a good singing voice but is better at backing vocals.

he organizes things a bit too much, which stopped during his spiral phase, but for example his pc boxes are like. a living dex, or just by pokedex number. he prob never completed his dex tho. mike though who did/almost did, has Entirely unorganized boxes. after the incident he obviously stopped caring bc depression so like. yeah. so his rooms a little unorganized and his house in general. he will silently appreciate it if you organize it for him.

never allowed miki to have eggs bc 1; gen 1 limitations. idk how that'd work in universe but that'd probably be why it didnt happen in the pokepastas. 2; as you can tell. he's kinda overprotective of miki. also charizards aren't like. very regular pokemon you find and he wouldn't want to breed her with a ditto. and would only want to allow her to if she actually found a for-life mate.

and for the x reader-ification of this in the edit bc i misread the ask, he'd also do it if ur dating him and u have a pokemon. for example, whatever starter you have and miki would b cute. straight couple.. yuri couple.. yaoi couple... love is love and miki doesnt care. its cute and they act all cuddly and snuggly with eachother probably. kinda reminds you of u an steven too

speaking of miki is larger than normal charizards and probably is built a little different literally and figuratively. stevens tall. miki is taller though. at the very least post incident Corpse Miki is. how unique she was did not help stevens rage ( getting a new one would not be nearly the same especially due to that + he would never. ) but it was a smaller factor in everything. also i do not think that thang can lay eggs post-incident. sorry if u wanted a fucked up missingno charmander.

even if the trade incident happened but miki came out alive he'd still go on a depression spiral. he probably wouldn't kill mike in the end, but he'd be much quieter, and would be even more paranoid. would probably willingly move away from mike or separate their rooms at the least. if u were dating him during this time you could probably at least still recover him from this state since its less serious but the tension would be palpable for a while.

mike is your number 1 wingman for steven swooning. he's kind of bad at being a wingman. or he's good at it. whichevers funnier in your opinion tbh. but he knows what steven likes ( at least he hopes he does ) so he gives you tips and tricks for wooing him. or he gives steven tips and tricks on wooing you because he knows both of you n hangs out with both enough to know.

this is a headcanon with basically no basis but theres a part of me that kind of likes steven and mike being born in johto or somethin'. which is why he goes to johto in doors open after the incident. he's running away from his past + kanto + it's his home region. At least for a while. so he sometimes likes to travel around with miki and you there, or to other places.

he double-checks a lot of things way too much. like if things are locked, if things are properly in place, and if wires are properly connected and not fucked up or tangled or broken ( iykyk ). if you check for him and reassure him everythings fine he'll calm down slightly, but his paranoia goes "okay but what if they didnt check enough."

if you told s!3v3n he was being a bad boy like a fucking dog when he does smth you dont like he probably would actually look like a dejected puppy for a moment and sit in a corner ( /j. maybe. )

s!3v3n's got big fuckin shadowy hands. and claws. good for backscratching or massages oddly enough, if asked for....????

steven will try to impress you by playing a videogame and doing something cool. he probably fails or almost fails at it. but its kind of endearing and cute anyways.

he's left-handed ( definitely not projecting ). for symmetry, mike is right-handed. also miki is ambidextrous. How can a Charizard be ambidextrous you ask? You know. For fun. Daisy is also ambidextrous though which is the more normal option.

i mean... steven is probably also ambidextrous with anything other than writing/drawing ( PROJECTING HARDER ).

ultimately kind of silly ( He has murdered three )

hope you enjoy :)

[ganymedesclock]

Not to jump back on the soapbox about intelligence that I was on earlier but, like. as a writer and a fan I think that it’s way more helpful and fun to think of characters not as “who’s smart and who’s dumb” or even “on a scale of one to ten how is their Intelligence” as much as considering that what we regard as Intelligent is actually a bunch of interrelated skills and then several other sneaky skills that are unrelated- and most people have some combination of those skills.

This is already fairly obvious in ‘stereotypical Smart Guy’ characters. To pick at the HTTYD films for example, let’s look at Hiccup and Fishlegs, who are both obviously what we’d think of as Smart.

Hiccup is a mechanical engineer. He’s got a rapid sense of problem-solving, which makes sense as a skill he’d cultivate in a context where not only is he often feeling like the environment is not built for him (his first shown onscreen invention is a mechanical bola launcher because as Gobber points out, he’s too weak to throw one himself; his society basically doesn’t have viable weapons in ‘his size’) but also that one of the main adults who earnestly makes space for him is another engineer.

Throughout the first movie, we can see that Hiccup approaches a lot of things- including most prominently his relationship with Toothless- as solving a series of problems. Even his approach as a fighter takes a very engineer’s stance- he observes his environment and thinks about strategic problem solving. Similarly, as a leader- when he’s coordinating people, he evaluates them the way you might a gear or a flywheel. What’s its properties, what is it good for, alright, socket it where it goes and throw the switch. His character flaws, too, often tie into this- Hiccup has a tendency to respond to problems he can’t get a grip on- has no sense of how he’s going to build a solution- by running away from them. He does not have the confidence to, as Stoick puts it, bang his head against a rock in the assumption that the rock will break before his head does. Tenacity for Hiccup consists of building and refining an increasing number of ‘machines’, whether those are literal devices, mechanical techniques, or interpersonal strategies.

Fishlegs, meanwhile, is also highly observant but his observations take a very different angle than “ooh, that looks like a lever, I bet I could pry on it-”. Fishlegs is not an engineer. Fishlegs is what most people would think of as a true Nerd-

(as little lexicographical viability as “nerd” has when it’s basically just a label for someone who seems socially awkward and has a set number of interests attached to a particular offset of culture but I digress)

Fishlegs knows Facts. His brain grabs a lot of facts, especially about subjects he’s interested in (like dragons!) He in fact literally quantifies these facts with numbers. He likes numbers. While Hiccup clearly by necessity works with numbers- you have to know the dimensions of something you’re building- there’s a clear distinction that Hiccup is a lot more of a fly by feel guy. Numbers are, at best, to Hiccup, a way to cross-reference if you’re in the right place at the right time. To Fishlegs, the numbers are everything.

Fishlegs using numerical statistics and extremely specific pre-determined categories to refer to dragons stands out not just because it makes him sound like a video game enthusiast, but you have to consider the average stat-crunching power player quotes things like “speed 18, armor 12,” because they are invoking a larger body of work. Fishlegs comes from a comparatively low-tech society- they have one book on dragons (that he’s read innumerable times and memorized the details and classifications from). It’s not idle or entry-level at all to have this focus on numbers. Trying to identify and classify entities that are as smart as you are, bristling with natural weapons, and for the most part really want you dead is an arduous work for people who don’t have computers or cameras.

And I think this even ties- fascinatingly- to the primary means of mobility of both of their partner dragons. Meatlug, as a Gronkle, uses a hovering mechanism of flight similar to a hummingbird or dragonfly. With her large, heavy body, this makes her look pretty silly, much like Fishlegs himself- but, as is demonstrated in the tv series, hovering flight actually confers some serious advantages, and someone like Fishlegs who’s extremely detail-finicky and technical- it’s not good enough to know “big” “small” or “bigger than a wagon”, things must be categorized into objective speed, weight, height, armor, venom classifications- exploits this gleefully. The ability to fall vertically and catch yourself an extremely short distance from the ground, or stop and reverse directions, is potent- if it comes at the cost of grace and top speed, well, Fishlegs knows where his metagame is.

Hiccup, meanwhile, as we see in the big ‘test flight’ sequence in the first movie, does not use numbers not because he’s too stupid to grasp them but because Hiccup relates to the world at a speed where the numbers aren’t useful. He literally writes down all the fin positions on a cheat sheet, and numbers them- and we hear him getting it wrong. His obsession on the cheat sheet actually leads both him and Toothless into their disastrous fall, and they get through it because Hiccup throws away the math and runs on gut calculations. This is a completely different intellectual creature, but it’s still cognitive. It’s rapid-fire kinesthetic reasoning and it’s the reason he doesn’t get killed riding a dragon like Toothless who is effectively built like a jet plane. It’s not surprising at all that by the second movie, Hiccup’s shifted from a conventional saddle like the kind he would know from ordinary ridden animals to a style that lets him lie forward with his entire body alongside Toothless. Not only does it streamline their mutual profile, but it means that Hiccup has all of his stomach, legs, and arms to communicate with Toothless- it turns them into one machine reading immense amounts of sensory detail from each other. They are on the same page, because of this rapid-intuitive kind of reasoning. 

This is what makes Hiccup so effective when working with Toothless, and it’s also, ironically, the exact reason he initially seems hopelessly stupid to his home culture- because fly-by-feel is a reckless approach. It takes a lot of trial and error. It passes by in one montage, but think about how many different models of saddle and fin Hiccup and Toothless go through in rapid succession. More than half of Hiccup’s inventive process clearly happens while and after he’s built the thing. Measure twice, cut once, measure and cut again, get rolled over by your dragon partner, measure and cut again and reinforce the hook this time...

“How we use our brains” is really just a question of what strategies move us through our environment on a regular basis. There’s nobody out there who’s genuinely not thinking, unless they’re comatose or dead. The distinctions we place on smart lead us to draw assumptions that some form of thinking is Real Thinking (tm) that we then don’t define. Smart is complicated; I cited Hiccup and Fishlegs, but out of HTTYD’s cast alone, you can consider Stoick (civic leadership, battlefield tactics, success as a fighter- yeah, he’s pretty “smart”!) or Astrid (high-performance athlete with extremely good aim with an unwieldy, heavy weapon) as well.

[ponett]

hi i watched the new my little pony movie and it was... pretty good! it was very cute, i like the new cast a lot, there were some nice heartfelt moments that had some surprising depth, all the locations were really pretty to look at, the poppy musical numbers were fun, the character animation is really lively. it's a solid little fantasy adventure flick for kids. i do have mixed feelings about the story though. here are some casual-ish thoughts. (i posted some of this on twitter last night but i have even more thoughts now. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry)

spoilers below the cut

okay so, i liked it a lot when it was just letting the new characters play off each other, but unfortunately my fears came true and almost the entire movie is laser focused on the oversimplified extremely on-the-nose trump era racism allegory plot. i do have to cut it some slack for their good intentions, and this is a 90 minute animated movie for 5-year-olds, so there's only so much they can do. it did also have a bit more nuance than i expected at points. (it's more nuanced than zootopia, for what it's worth. not that that's hard.) and hell, friendship is magic also screwed up its attempts at similar topics, and y'all know how much i still love that show. so it's not like i hate this movie. but it has such an oversimplified "we should all be friends!" take on real issues, and it frustrates me that it completely dominates the film, being the main focus of almost every single scene

there's some interesting stuff where they show how those in power are stoking peoples' fears to maintain their own power. like the big factory in the earth pony town is essentially an arms manufacturer capitalizing on the fear of outsiders, the cops mainly exist to uphold the laws segregating the ponies, the pegasus royal family pretends they still have the ability to fly and this lie seems to be the only reason they're in power (the queen literally gets arrested the second the truth comes out lol). but then they all just kind of... see the error of their ways shortly after meeting other types of pony, and there are no repercussions? not saying this toy commercial cartoon for little girls needs to fuckin kill the bad guys or throw them in jail or whatever, but we don't even get like a "they made them turn the arms factory into something else" type resolution, and no one even really acknowledges that these characters did anything wrong. no one is considered an oppressor, the movie takes for granted that these people in power who derive their power from bigotry were just misguided, and that they'll totally change their beliefs as soon as they're presented with new information. society is fundamentally unjust, but none of the individuals maintaining that unjust status quo are at fault for doing so

i also don't know if it's a good or bad thing that there's no explanation for why the ponies hate each other now. like on the one hand at least there's no historical backstory that inadvertently justifies the prejudices (like zootopia and its story about how the predators used to eat the prey). but on the other hand... how the hell did they get from g4 to here in the intervening centuries? at my most uncharitable it feels like this whole story about how equestria used to be this land where everyone got along and now everyone is divided is a heavy-handed metaphor for The Sudden Division Of America In The Trump Era as it's perceived by a lot of liberals. history didn't logically lead us to this point, no one is really at fault, everyone just arbitrarily started hating each other at some point and we just all need to put that aside and get along again. it's almost the FiM episode about how the cowboys and the natives should just learn to share all over again. (again: i will admit this is an uncharitable read of the film)

(sidebar with BIG SPOILERS: the very end also really bugged me, but that's more just a personal taste thing. in the leadup to g5 i was excited to see them make an earth pony the protagonist. i thought that was a nice change of pace after nine seasons of twilight. but then in the end of the movie, after sunny delivers the moral, she's magically turned into an alicorn... like oh we're just doing that again huh. okay. it also doesn't really gel with this story where the different types of pony are being used for a racism/xenophobia allegory)

i feel a little bad hyper-focusing on the way the allegory falls apart like this, but like. the allegory is the entire fucking movie lol. they are constantly talking about it in every scene, the first song mentions "building a wall," the main antagonist (who may or may not be intended to evoke trump???) manipulates the earth ponies' prejudices to make them all go full fascist, etc. it is not subtle. of course, this story isn't ALL bad - the adventures along the way were fun, i was relieved when everyone realized that the macguffin wouldn't magically make everyone get along again (although realizing this DOES make the macguffin restore everyone's magic which seems to mostly fix everything, so... lol), and a message about looking past stereotypes and misinformation to befriend people who are different from you definitely isn't a bad one for a kids' film. and obviously a story with this target demographic is ALWAYS going to have to simplify reality a bit. it's just extremely obvious that they wanted to go for a nuanced topical political story that would surprise the parents in the audience and maybe teach kids a thing or two, and it turned out messy

but again, i liked the characters. it was nice to look at. it was cute. i'll gladly watch a new show with these characters. i hope the inevitable show focuses less on this political allegory though lol

anyway there's a shot of fluttershy and rainbow dash in the opening scene so 10/10

[sketching-shark]

LMK fandom: Oh, what do we do about this guy who has nothing but hurt Xiaotian, tried to replace Sun Wukong and his crew, hurt Tripitaka and ordered servants to cannibalize a monkey? Oh I know! We’ll turn him into our little meow meow~ he’s so innocent and Sun Wukong is obviously the villain!

What doesn’t help is this idea is perpetuated by multiple fan fic writers and artists for some reason. Especially some aus they make that turn SWK into a bastard for the sake of the story rather than considering cultural context and thinking they should be respectful.

And almost everyone lets them get away with it just because the art or fanfic is good and they get so popular that no one can point what is actually wrong without feeling like they’re going to get attacked.

I'm starting to feel like my blog is the one anons go to specifically to vent their frustrations about the Six Eared Macaque in his lego monkey show form & the associated fandom lmao. But I guess this makes sense, as I’ve had fun quasi-dragging him before & will in fact use this anon submission as an opportunity to have my own, to put it academically, bitch fest about not just this fandom's favorite protagonist-traumatizing meow meow, but about the way villains are often treated in not just fanon, but increasingly in canon works as well. But same policy as with the last anon; I'll post my opinions below the cut, and as fandoms love to say, don’t like don't read if you don't want to see me dunking on the six eared simian & common fandom tendencies towards villains.

Oh man I would say where would you even begin with this but anon you’ve pretty much started yourself with my main gripe with a lot of ways that the Six-Eared Macaque is portrayed in fandom; there seems to be this unspoken agreement that his acts of violence towards Sun Wukong, Qi Xioatian, and Qi Xioatian’s loved ones are either to be framed as somewhat or totally justified, to be immediately forgiven/excused, or to simply & completely be ignored. Like friends maybe this is just me not seeing the proper posts but while the fandom is inundated with art and fanfics of Macaque as a generally decent individual & a true member of team good guy, I have yet to see one person address the fact that this monkey literally kidnapped & mind-controlled Xiaotian’s best friend and father figures & forced them to brutalize Xiaotian while ol’ Six Ear looked on and laughed (X_X). Like this kind of fandom villain treatment is definitely not something that’s solely at work for Monkie Kid, but it is kind of nutty how fandoms will swing between yelling that people should be allowed to like villains without even mild critique, and then will just flat-out not address the villainous behavior, and will even bend over backwards to frame even characters who committed genocide as just poor innocent widdle victims who need a hug. At its worst, I’ve even seen tons of people in a fandom get really angry at other people who don’t like a villain, and will even start accusing those people of hating real-life mentally disabled or abused individuals all because they don’t like the fandom’s favorite literal war criminal. The Monkie Kid fandom is FAR more chill & better than a lot of other fandoms I’ve come across in that regard, but that is an exceedingly low bar, & the tendency to woobify certain kinds of villains-- as with Macaque and the extreme emphasis on his bad boy/sad boy thing--is very much at work.  

 I’ve also talked before about a kind of monoculturalization of certain character interpretations and story beats in fandoms, and one of the more popular ones that seems to be applied to Macaque a lot is the “hero actually bad, villain actually good” cliche, as observable from the general fandom assumption that Mr. Six-Ears he wasn’t even slightly lying or remembering things through a rose-tinted or skewed lens when he gave his version of his and Sun Wukong’s past. Like at this point it seems the possibility that people WILL NOT even consider is that Sun Wukong never did & still doesn't care that much about the Six Eared Macaque (in JTTW they weren’t sworn brothers & in Monkie Kid the only thing the monkey king really said to Macaque before attacking him was a pretty contemptuous "Aren't you ever going to get sick of living under my shadow?," & responds to his "beloved friend" getting blown up with "You did good, bud" to Qi Xiaotian, who did the exploding), or that their original fight may in fact have mostly been instigated by Macaque. After all, to repeat what this anon summarized & what I've said before about their original JTTW context (& in an example of the things that do feel like it's often lost in translation) is that the Six Ear Macaque was a villain not just because he beat up the Tang Monk, but because he wanted to take over Sun Wukong's entire life and identity so he could have all that glory, prestige, and power for himself. To quote the macaque himself from the Anthony C. Yu translation, "I struck the T'ang monk and I took the luggage...precisely because I want to go to the West all by myself to ask Buddha for the scriptures. When I deliver them to the Land of the East, it will be my success and no one else's. Those people of the South Jambudvipa Continent will honor me then as their patriarch and my fame will last for all posterity." And in order to do this, the Six Eared Macaque had apparently made Sun Wukong's "little ones," his monkey family, his captives through either trickery or force, and gotten a number of them to take on the appearance of Tang Sanzang and the other pilgrims. It's also made clear that in very direct contrast to Sun Wukong, he doesn't care about these monkeys beyond how they might serve him. In fact, after Sha Wujing kills the monkey posing as him the Six Eared Macaque not only all but immediately replaces him with another, but also "told his little ones to have the dead monkey skinned. Then his meat was taken to be fried and served as food along with coconut and grape wines." So this monkey is not only willing to risk the lives of a lot of other monkeys for his own personal benefit, but is also a literal cannibal. And yes yes, I know a lot of people have argued that Monkie Kid shouldn't be considered a direct sequel to JTTW & that's fair enough (for example, Sun Wukong probably shouldn't be smashing anyone into a meat patty in a children's cartoon lol). And of course, it needs to be noted that there are a buttload of really out there & really cursed pieces of media based on JTTW & that were created in China. Yet the above description is the oft-ignored in the west original facet of the Six Eared Macaque's character. And it is this selfishness, entitlement, and treatment of other individuals as tools for his own self-serving ends  that is, from where I’m standing, still very much present in Monkie Kid. Like besides repeatedly going out of his way to physically and psychologically traumatize Xioatian, with the last episode Macaque seemed to be going right back to his manipulative ways. I’ve seen people frame their last conversation as Macaque softening to Xioatian a little bit, but personally that read a lot more like that common tactic among abusers where even after they’ve hurt you they’ll dangle something you want or need over your head (in Macaque’s case, the promise of desperately needed training and information about a serious looming threat), with the implication that you’ll only get it if you do what they want you to, such as, in this case, Xioatian going back to Macaque as his student even after having been so terribly hurt by this monkey, which would give Macaque power over Xiaotian and probably Sun Wukong as a result. And it is this violence and manipulation that it seems the fandom at large has tacitly decided shouldn’t even be addressed, instead leaning more towards a (and this is an exaggeration) “Six-Eared Macaque my poor meow meow Sun Wukong has always been bad & has always been wrong about literally everything” reading. 

And while it is the case that I am not Chinese and feel that as such it would be best left to someone who actually comes from that background to provide more context into how common interpretations of the Six Eared Macaque from China may clash really badly with the stuff the western fandom creates, it also must be noted that, as much as we all want to have fun in fandom & in spite of all the out-there versions of JTTW from China, we westerners should recognize that there is a very long and very ugly history of western countries stripping other cultures’ important religious and literary works for parts & mashing them into their own thing while implying or even insisting that what they present provides a true understanding of the original piece. And while I trust most individuals in regards to Monkie Kid are able to step back and think “this is a lego cartoon and not a set guide for how I should understand JTTW” (especially given the insistence that JTTW and Monkie Kid should be considered there own separate works) there does nevertheless seem to be something of a tendency to take the conclusions people come to, for example, about Sun Wukong’s characteristic in his lego form & then assume that’s just reflective to Sun Wukong as a totality. I imagine a good portion of this is due to people not reading JTTW & especially to not having easy access to solid information or answers about JTTW’s many different facets (like geez awhile ago I was trying to get a clear answer on what is considered the most accurate translation of the names of Sun Wukong’s six sworn brothers & got like 5 different responses lmao), but that tendency to take a western fandom interpretation & run with it instead of doing any background research or questioning said interpretation is still very much at play. As such, & as made prominent in the way people have been interpreting the dynamic between Sun Wukong and the Six Eared Macaque in the lego monkey show, tbh it does seem kind of shitty for western creators & audience to sometimes go really out of their way to ignore all of this original cultural & narrative context for the sake of Angst (TM) in Macaque's favor, demonizing Sun Wukong, and shipping the monkey king with his evil twin (X_X).

And speaking of which, even beyond the potential inherent creepiness & revulsion that can be inspired by this specific ship given common interpretations of the og classic's original meaning (again, it's my understanding, given both summaries of translated Chinese academic texts I've been kindly provided with, my own reading of the Anthony C. Yu translation of JTTW, & vents from a number of Chinese people I've seen on this site, that the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China as having originated from Sun Wukong himself as a living embodiment of his worst traits, hence why only Buddha can tell the difference between them & why the monkey king is much more slow to violence after he kills the macaque), I'd argue that in the face of all the uwu poor widdle meow meow portrayals lego show Macaque is, especially if you include JTTW's events, still in the role of “Sun Wukong but worse” as he is very much a violent & selfish creep. Like he was basically running around in JTTW wearing a Sun Wukong fursuit, but there he had the sole reason of wanting to replace Sun Wukong wholesale so he could have all the good things in the monkey king's life without actually having to work as hard for them. But if you combine that with Macaque now claiming that he used to be best friend with Sun Wukong in his pre-journey days (something that's made funny from a JTTW context given that that status actually belongs to the Demon Bull King lol), his original violence has now blown into this centuries long and really unhealthy obsession with the monkey king. Like he's apparently gone from wanting to literally be Sun Wukong to being so obsessed with getting revenge on Sun Wukong that he's got basically nothing else going on in his life. Like he's only appeared in two episodes but...does he have any friends? Any family? A career or even a hobby that DOESN'T center the monkey king? Anything at all outside of his "get revenge on and/or kill Sun Wukong/use his successor as my personal punching bag” thing? Like dude! That is extremely creepy and extremely bad for everyone all around! As I’ve said before, this seeming refusal to see beyond the past or to do something that doesn’t involve Sun Wukong in some capacity is a trait that makes Macaque an interesting and somewhat tragic villain--he even seems to be working as Sun Wukong’s reflection in a mirror darkly, with lego show Sun Wukong pretty clearly not being able to heal from his own past which is hinted to be defined by one loss after another, and with Monkie Kid even kind of having these two characters somewhat follow their JTTW characterizations in that in the latter half of the journey Sun Wukong often gets sad & starts crying in the face of what seems insurmountable odds (& Monkie Kid Sun Wukong does seem to be hiding some serious depression behind a cheerful facade), whereas the Six-Eared Macaque retains a worse version of Sun Wukong’s pre-journey characteristic of getting pissed and lashing out if things don’t go his way--but it’s also what would make any current friendship or romantic relationship between these monkeys horrific. Although to be fair even the fandom seems to recognize this in an unconscious way, in that a lot of the art & fanfic seems to swing erratically between them kissing & screaming at each other in yet another example of bog-standard fandom adulation of romanticized toxic relationships lol.  

At the end of the day, of course, this is nothing new. You'll find versions of this dynamic across a ton of fandoms and now even canonical work. And as such, I can only look at this kind of popularized relationship dynamic with a kind of resigned weariness whenever it pops up, & my frustrated question with the popularity of this kind of pairing is the exact same one that I have for a multitude of blatantly toxic villain/hero ships, given common fandom discourse & the tendency to either ignore or justify the villain's actions & demonize the hero: if you're THAT convinced that everything is the hero's fault, if you believe THAT much that the hero is the one in the wrong for the villain's pain and their subsequent actions, then why are you so set on them not only becoming a romantic pair, but framing this get-together as a good thing? Like I know we contain multitudes but that's waaay too many contradictions for me to wrap my head around. And it definitely doesn’t help that one branch of underlying reasoning behind this kind of pairing seems to be the ever-present “you break it, you fix it” mentality, where the assumption is that if you’re in a failing, abusive, and/or generally toxic relationship (platonically or romantically), if you put in enough time and effort & attempts to compromise, you’ll be able to restore/have the relationship you dreamed of, even with someone who hurt you really badly. And this assumption isn’t limited to fandom: I’d even argue that it’s everywhere in the culture, hence why a lot of people feel like they “failed” if they have to get a divorce or make the choice to leave an unhealthy friendship. Personally, I feel like people could really benefit from more stories about how it is not only the case that the people you hurt don’t owe you their forgiveness & you can still become a better and happier person without the one you hurt in your life, & that while it can be really hard it can also be a good thing to leave a relationship, even if it’s one that once meant a lot to you. 

  But in all honestly, from my own perspective this kind of pairing is starting to read far less like enemies to lovers and far more like a horrible fantasy where you can pull whatever shit you want, even on the people you "love," & never be held accountable for your terrible behavior or even have to consider that maybe you were in the wrong. It's another facet that makes me larf every time I see people insist that fandom is an inherently "transformative" or "progressive" form of storytelling like friends you are literally just taking status quo toxic monogamy & rebranding it as somehow beneficial & romantic (X_X).

But as to anon’s last frustration, it is hard to know what is the appropriate response with this kind of thing...like for my own part I’m keeping my frustrations to my blog & now increasingly to posts that you would have to click on the “read more�� button to see what I have to say, but I totally get the hesitation to give even a mild critique to big names in a fandom. Like I've now seen it happen repeatedly where someone who has a big name in a fandom will make something that's kind of shitty for one reason or another, someone will message them with some version of "hey, that's kind of shitty, you shouldn't do that," and the typical response is either to blatantly ignore the issue completely, or more popularly to make a giant crying circus that seems deliberately geared towards stoking emotions on both sides of the, for example, fiction does/doesn't affect reality issue so that something that didn't even have to be that big a deal gets blown out of all proportion, with the big name often framing what often started out as a very mild critique into a long crying jag about how the initial response to their kind of shitty thing was so mean/cruel and they're just a poor innocent & that YOU'RE the true racist/sexist/bigot etc. if you don't agree with their opinion. It must of course be noted that there have also been numerous instances of people taking it too far the other way & sending not just big names but smaller creators literal deaths threats over stuff like innocuous ships which like holy hell bells people that’s a horrible thing to do. But for the big names at least, the end result of all this fighting is usually that once the dust has settled they have more attention/fame/money/power in the fandom than before, and with anyone who might have a problem with their stuff feeling afraid to voice their opinion lest they be swarmed by that person's fans. In that way fandom does often seem to increasingly be geared towards presenting an “official” fandom perspective about various facets of a piece of media instead of allowing for a multitude of interpretations, and with criticism, no matter its shape or form or how genuinely warranted it may be, being hounded out of existence. I feel like a lot of this could be made less bad if there wasn’t this constant assumption & even drive to think that a different interpretation of or criticism of your favorite work of fiction or your fanwork isn’t a direct claim that you are a thoroughly loathsome individual (& maybe also if people cultivated an enjoyment of learning things about important works from a culture outside their own, even if what you learn clashes with your own initial understandings), but I guess we’ll see if that ever happens. 

So these are my general thinks about the Six Eared Macaque’s current fandom meow meow status & some of my bigger gripes with fandom tendencies as a whole. I stand by my idea that the most interesting & beneficial route for Macaque moving forward would be a kind of “redemption without forgiveness from the ones you hurt” arc--as I think was done pretty excellently with the character Grace in Infinity Train--and if for no other reason than gosh dern this monkey really needs to cultivate some sort of identity beyond his “Sun Wukong but worse” persona. 

[intergalacticwanderer]

It happened faster than any of them could react.

Overall, things had been going well. The sea monsters were on their last legs, they had the numbers with all of the Mighty Nein present, and it was only a matter of time before they’d come out on the other side. But in combat mere seconds can make all of the difference and one monster slipped through at just the wrong place and time, burying its claws into Kingsley’s back.

He swore, blood bursting from his neck and the monster’s eyes bleeding black, but it wasn't enough, the monster digging the claws in deeper and dragging him off of the ship, two of them going over the rail and into the ocean. He heard someone screaming his name, muffled through the water - and then the claws found his throat, and he didn't hear anything at all.

But something else started to happen.

He didn't know where he was. He knew, at the very least, that he wasn't in the ocean, his surroundings too indistinct and no longer able to feel the water around him. But even with being able to tell where he wasn’t, that still didn’t tell him anything about where he was. In fact, the only source of light Kingsley could see was - himself?

He looked down, startled, and saw that his own form seemed to be made of softly glowing light, a strange in between of tangible and intangible, floating in place. He... he didn’t understand. What was this? Kingsley raised a hand, both confused and awed at the sight.

The fingers began to disintegrate right in front of him.

He recoiled at the sight and the hand - HIS hand - broke apart even further, the once distinct outline now breaking into individual motes of light that slowly drifted away. He scrabbled with his other hand, as if to try and staunch a bleeding wound, but all that did was scatter the remaining bit of light from the hand even faster and he yanked his arm back. To his horror it was happening on other parts of his body as well, chunks carving out and being eaten away, motes continuing to drift, like paper burning into embers, or scattering sea foam, or or or - It felt like he should be hyperventilating. Was he hyperventilating? There wasn’t any sound, he couldn’t tell, could he even-?

Kingsley tried to hold on to his thoughts but they began to disintegrate too, and that realization, the fact that he could feel that happening, sent a bolt of terror through him even greater than the sight of what was happening to his body. He twisted in place, panic rising higher and higher as his body continued to disintegrate, looking for something, anything around him, but. Nothing.

The remaining parts of his legs and tail separated from his torso, stomach now gone, and while it felt like there should have been sound it continued to be completely silent, his thoughts reeling and disoriented as the parts spun away, quickly dissolving and scattering. What was- he couldn’t- who-

Further light scattered and so did his memories. His thoughts. His name. He drifted, motes rising up from near his eyes. Something from eyes. Tears? He didn’t know. Couldn't know. He was small, getting smaller, too small, no stop pleasenoPLEASESTOPNOPLEASE-

Sensation and clarity of thought slammed into him.

Kingsley (Kingsley!) gasped in a breath of air, coughing and shuddering. He was cold. Wet. Someone was holding him, cradling him between arms, one under his shoulders, the other under his knees, and his tail was dangling, limp. He blinked open his eyes. Two faces were directly above him, and there were glimpses of others in his peripheral, just out of direct sight but hovering close. The first face he could see was Fjord, wet hair clinging to his face and breathing heavily. He... he was the one holding him, wasn’t he. The second was Jester, shaking hands hovering over his chest and a faint shimmer fading from the air. He met her eyes.

“Jester...?”

A sharp inhale, and then a laugh, which turned into a heavy, wracking sob, and Jester buried her face into his chest and continued to cry. Others poured in then, crowding close with words of worry and comfort, but Kingsley barely heard them, still too stunned and numb from all that had just happened, and he didn’t react at all.

***

Over the next few days, Kingsley found himself in the company of at least one other member of the Mighty Nein at all times.

Fjord asked him for more advice and assistance around the ship. Jester sought him out even more than normal to ask about drawings, or tattoo ideas, or ship gossip. Caduceus invited him meditate. Caleb and Essek just happened to read their books nearby. Beau dragged him along to sparring practice, his complaints that he didn't even fight hand to hand normally falling on deaf ears. Yasha ended up clinging to him during sleep (though, in that case, he had been the one to initiate at least half of those). And Veth - well, he was pretty sure Veth was just straight up spying on him, but he didn't really begrudge her that.

Usually, Kingsley would have found the hovering his friends were doing to be suffocating, but this time? He sought their company right back, determined to not be alone.

There was no way around it - he had died. Full stop. That would have been bad enough on it's own but of course he had an... interesting relationship with death and revival, and it didn’t escape him that Jester had only started crying once he’d said her name. Like she’d been waiting to hear what his first word would be.

Wondering if that word was going to be “empty.”

He couldn’t tell if that made him feel better or worse. Better because they obviously cared about him, wanted him to be okay and to be the one to come back. Worse, because, well. Last time he’d been the one to come back saying empty. And they had to have gotten that fear from somewhere.

He sighed, pulling the blanket around his shoulders closer as he sat on the deck, watching the bright light of Catha above in the sky. Everyone was out on the deck at that moment, quietly talking after a late night meal and Caleb's dancing lights softly illuminating things along with the moonlight.

The main thing eating at him was the time in between falling into the ocean and the revivify spell, and he shuddered involuntarily at his mind’s word choice. He still didn't understand what that had been, but whatever it was it’d been terrifying, too strange to fall under normal experience and too vivid to “just” be a strange dream. The closest thing he had... his fingers tightened on his blanket. His reoccurring dream- nightmare- memory. Fighting in Cognouza, fighting back against Lucien, breaking free. Drifting away with hundreds of other lights. Drifting...

“Can I ask you all a question?”

Eight other heads turned to him, conversations stopping, and he had to fight to not shrink away. He was the one who’d asked.

“Kind of a morbid one but, wondering about who else has died here. You all know a lot more than me right now.”

He knew of a few past deaths. Glory Run Road. Those in... Cognouza. He wasn’t particularly fond of thinking about any of those from his perspective, however. Better to hear stories from others.

Several of them glanced between each other. Essek was the first to speak up.

“Personally, I have been lucky enough to not require any resurrection magic, and I hope it will remain that way in the future. I believe the same is true for Beauregard?”

Beau nodded. “Yeah. It’s gotten close a couple times but I’ve never actually died. Still kinda shocked at that, honestly.”

“I think I’ve died in a dream? Or maybe it was a vision...?” Yasha said, and when she got multiple confused looks she shrugged. “It was a trial from the Stormlord? I’m not really sure if it counts.”

“Let’s call it an in between,” Kingsley said.

“There’s the time I drowned and came back as a goblin,” Veth said quietly and the mood immediately dropped. She took a long drink from her cup. “And I guess there was also that time in the Happy Fun Ball.”

“Which is why we always check for traps,” Caleb said, giving her a pointed look.

Veth waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Checking blast radius is also important,” Caduceus said, sipping on his cup of tea. “I was too close to an exploding crossbow bolt once,” Caduceus said matter of fact, and Kingsley was gobsmacked at how serene Caduceus was at having literally been blown up. Then again, it was Caduceus, so he shouldn't be that surprised.

Veth bristled. “Hey!”

“Not assigning any blame, just stating what happened,” Caduceus said and he took another sip.

Three people left, and he already knew what the answer could be from two of them. Jester met his eyes and he gave her a little nod. He was okay with them talking about it.

“The only one I’ve had was when we were fighting Lucien,” Jester said, hands resting in her lap. “It happened really fast, but Caduceus got me back up, and Fjord protected both of us. It was still pretty scary, though.”

“I also went down to Lucien, but later in the fight,” Caleb said. Essek looked particularly miserable at the reminder and Caleb gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. “But the Mighty Nein does not leave anyone behind, so I was okay. And the same is true for you,” Caleb said, giving Kingsley a meaningful look and a nod.

Kingsley nodded back, relieved both at the reassurance and the reminder that they never considered him to be the same as Lucien. Sometimes that was enough against the images of them lifeless below him.

(Sometimes.)

Fjord was the last one left, and he downed the rest of his drink before looking Kingsley directly in the eye.

“I died the first time we were attacked by Uk’otoa’s minions.”

Kingsley gave a start. “Wait, really?”

Fjord nodded. “Really.”

“But- that doesn't make sense.” Fjord was the captain and Uk’otoa attacks, those were just- they were just a thing. An annoying and very dangerous thing, sure, but what had happened to him, that was his fault, he hadn't been careful enough, or-

“Kingsley.”

Fjord still held his gaze, not looking away. “What happened the other day is not your fault. If anything, it’s mine.”

“It totally is,” Veth added in and Fjord sighed.

“Regardless, don't blame yourself. I died to just the same thing and it can happen to any of us. And taking care of this problem is why we’re all on the ship right now anyway.”

“Cheers to that,” Beau said, raising her cup in a toast. “I’ve had enough murder fish for my lifetime.”

There was murmured agreement around the group, several others draining their cups and Kingsley staring at the bottom of his when he finished. So that was six. Two thirds of the Mighty Nein had died at least once, himself included, and Fjord even had a similar cause of death to this last time. Definitely not alone. And yet...

“Do you remember anything? From when you died?”

He didn't look up from his cup but he could just imagine the amount of eyes that would be staring at him right now. Whatever, it was already out there.

“A little,” Fjord said. “Mostly just that it was cold, and feeling scared, but...” Fjord’s voice softened and Kingsley looked over at the change in tone. “I also feel like the Wildmother would have been there to catch me. And that’s comforting in its own way.”

Kingsley nodded, mind going back to the scent of a warm sea breeze. Even though he wasn't a follower himself he knew of the comfort that Fjord spoke of.

Which just made him feel even more miserable in that moment.

“So... nothing else? No kind of visions or anything?” No disintegrating and losing everything while completely alone? His voice cracked a little, no longer able to hide his anxiety.

“Nothing in particular.” Fjord frowned. “...are you alright, Kingsley?”

“... not really, no.” He was too worn out to lie at this point and he hunched over, pulling his blanket even tighter.

“Is that what happened to you Kingsley? A vision?” Jester asked.

“Yes? Maybe? I don’t know, vision isn't quite right, but- I don't know.”

“Well, how would you describe it?”

An involuntary shiver ran up his spine. “An experience, I guess? But not a good one, and if anyone ever tried to sell me that kind of ‘experience’ I’d straight up stab them.”

Kingsley went to take a drink before remembering he’d already finished his and he scowled at his empty cup. Caduceus passed over another one without a word and Kingsley murmured a small thanks, taking a long drink to wet his suddenly dry throat.

“I was made out of light or something like that? But-” His throat closed up and he had to loudly clear it to keep going. “I started to disappear. Like I was just a bunch of dandelion fluff and-” he mimed an explosion with his fingers- “poof. Just blowing away. And it wasn't just my body, it was my memories too. I think Jester got me just in time.” It took a moment for him to realize he was shaking.

“C'mere,” Yasha said quietly, moving closer and holding out an arm, Kingsley almost falling into her side and curling close. She held him in her arm and rubbed his shoulder, his shaking slowly subsiding. There was a stunned silence for several moments.

“What the fuck,” Beau breathed out, finally breaking the silence. “That’s so fucked up.”

“And concerning,” Essek said, a curled finger hovering over his mouth. “I have never heard of anything similar, even in death accounts from consecuted individuals. Caduceus?”

“I also have no idea,” Caduceus said, frowning. “Either way, that doesn't sound like how it should go. Not to me at least.”

“Or me,” Veth said, eyes wide. “Dying’s bad enough, that’s- that’s just excessive!”

“This isn’t exactly making me feel better,” Kingsley grumbled. Sure, it was commiserating, but mostly it was just reminding him of how alone he was with what happened.

Yasha squeezed his shoulder. “Well, what would make you feel better?”

“Answers,” Kingsley said without hesitation. “Just... what the hell that was. Or why it happened. Just something.” He curled further into Yasha’s side, his head and tail now the only things peeking out from under the blanket.

“I can research, but it will have to be after the voyage,” Caleb said. “I do not have a personal archive unfortunately.”

“Yet,” Essek added on, giving Caleb a quick smile. “My ability to help is limited but I could still assist with some of this research.”

“And I’ve got the Cobalt Soul stuff of course,” Beau said. “So, definitely a more long term thing but we’ll find out what we can.”

“Thanks guys,” Kingsley said quietly. He wasn’t a fan of the wait but just the chance of answers and the fact they were willing to do it still meant a lot.

All through this Fjord had had a hand on his chin, contemplative, and he looked over at both Jester and Caduceus. “Maybe you two could ask for some godly input? It’s worked before and it shouldn’t hurt at least.”

Caduceus nodded “I say it’d be worth trying out.”

Jester nodded as well. “Yeah! It’d be nice if we could get some answers right away. You want us to give it a shot Kingsley?”

“Please,” he said, latching onto the mention of ‘right away’ and pushing away the small shiver at directly asking the gods for help. That sort of thing was the entire reason he was even alive at all, but even when it was positive the idea of it still freaked him out a little. That didn’t mean he was going to pass up the help however, and he looked at the two of them expectantly.

Jester looked over at Caduceus. “You want me or you to go first?”

Caduceus gestured towards her. “You go ahead.”

“Okay!” Jester said, and Kingsley watched as she brought Sprinkle down from her shoulder and held him in front of her. “Okay Artie, if you’re there, we could really use some answers about what happened to Kingsley, it’d be suuuuper helpful.”

The moment Jester finished speaking Kingsley found himself hit with a sudden wave of tiredness, and as he slipped into sleep at Yasha’s side he saw one last glimpse of Sprinkle’s eyes flashing a brilliant green.

***

The first thing he heard was the quiet shuffling of cards.

He found himself sitting in a room. A tent? The lighting was soft, coming from a few candles scattered around the space and a lantern in the shape of a crescent moon hanging from the ceiling. Colorful cloth was draped from the walls (or was the walls, if the guess about the tent was correct), and while the colors were muted by the low light he saw it was mostly blues and purples, with a splash of red or silver here and there. The sound of shuffling cards came from the back, where a woman sat behind a low table and fanned out a set of cards in front of her, gave a satisfied nod, and shuffled the cards back into the deck, Kingsley catching a brief glimpse of one that said “The Dream” before it disappeared from view.

The woman was wearing a red coat.

She looked up, caught his eye, and smiled. “It has been awhile, has it not?”

Kingsley was unable to speak, heart in his throat but he nodded anyway. He recognized her, would recognize her anywhere, but he had never expected to actually see her again. That dream he’d had in his first day had been precious but fleeting, starting to fade even at the time and he’d resigned himself to never fully knowing what it’d been about. The two parts that had managed to stick with him were the sad angel and the woman in the red coat, and while the angel had been revealed to be Yasha no one had known anything about the woman, and over time he began to wonder if she had been based on an actual person at all. And now here she was.

She placed the deck of cards down on the table and gestured for him to come forward, Kingsley moving up to sit cross legged on a red plush cushion, setting down gingerly and his tail curling up next to him. The fact that he had fallen asleep just before this told him that this should be a dream, but at the same time it felt as if it were something more. Something important. Clasping her hands together on the table she held his gaze, expression serious.

“Normally, I would deliver this kind of message through a reading, to avoid saying too much and to allow ambiguity in the meaning. But what I must say is important enough to be blunt. Your soul is fragile, Kingsley Tealeaf.”

Kingsley swallowed hard. He didn’t know who she was, not really, but absolute truth still rang in her words. “W-what does that mean?”

“In practical terms, returning from death is far more dangerous for you than some of your friends.” She opened up her hands and in between them was a ball of softy glowing light. “If your soul is returned to life quickly enough, as it was this last time, there may not be too many complications. But if you are dead for too long...” At her words the ball of light shuddered and then it scattered just like Kingsley remembered and he flinched back, breathing heavily, having to catch himself on one of his hands as dozens of motes of light rose up around them and then dissipated. She brought her hands back together, looking at him sadly. “I am sorry you had to experience a portion of that. It is not something I would wish on anyone.”

He slowly brought his breathing back under control and righted himself on the cushion, emotions stuck between a giddy rush at the fact that Jester’s intervention seemed to have actually worked and terror at the reminder of what had happened to him. Not to mention that something was wrong with his actual soul itself, so, plenty more potential terror and possible nightmares for him there. But for right now, at least...

“Is there anything I can do to... ‘fix’ my soul? And do you know why it’s like that?”

“For your first question, it will mostly just take time.” She cupped her hands in front of her, smaller motes of light reappearing and coalescing until once again she held a ball of light, and she lifted it up to float above their heads, the space around them now brighter. “The longer it has, the better it will be. It is both as simple and as complicated as that, unfortunately.”

“As for the why...” She spread an arc of cards out on the table with one hand and smoothly flipped them over with a pass from the other, but instead of individual cards it was a picture that continued from one card to the next.

“The journey your soul has gone through is far from normal. In fact, some would say it is astonishing that it exists at all.” She trailed her finger along the edge of the card created artwork, narrating as she did so.

“Your soul began with the sundering of a different soul, life springing from death when none should have been there.” A body pulling itself halfway out of a grave, hands scrabbling on the ground, red eyes shining in the face but also on the body. “This soul fragment may have started as just one piece of a larger whole, but something important happened. It changed. And it grew.” Hands helping the purple tiefling to stand, him walking forward and gaining additional color and vitality with each step. Tattoos, jewelry, vibrant clothes, the gaudiest coat imaginable. A bright and happy smile. “The love and experiences your soul had, both good and bad, allowed it to become a full soul in its own right, separate from where it came from.” Helping out at a circus, performing. Blood flashing along blades and becoming ice in an early taste of combat. Sitting side by side, content, with a certain aasimar. Riding along in a cart with the aasimar and five other individuals, sun low on the horizon. “And then... an end.” Blood stains on snow by a road. A coat placed on a staff, fluttering in the wind. “But not the end.”

A new arc of cards was laid down and revealed below the first, with a new artwork. “The soul that yours originally came from was brought back, and it had forcibly reclaimed your soul.” Four figures standing next to an empty grave, the body of the purple tiefling rising into the air and surrounded by magic. “At first, it seemed that your soul had been subsumed.” The group of five, purple tiefling in the lead, bundled up and trudging through a harsh winter landscape. Bodies left in their wake. “But your soul had become its own, and because of that it could no longer slot neatly into place.” Two tieflings sitting across from each other, one purple, one blue, three tarot cards suspended between them. The purple tiefling standing in front of a circular gate before eight other individuals, many of them from the prior artwork. “Your soul fought back, and it eventually helped to free itself from its prison.” Screaming at those eight from a changed body, nine eye stalks coming from the back. An even more monstrous form, torn in half by its own hands.

One final set of cards was placed. Revealed.

“Your friends then attempted to return your soul. But it failed.”  A body lying on the ground, partially covered by the gaudy coat and bisected by a new scar. Eyes closed. “It took a prayer to the Wildmother and her intervention for it to be successful.” The same body, standing, eyes open, the ground now covered in greenery and flowers. “However, your soul did not come out unscathed. Not broken, or missing parts, but... injured.” The body now shown as an outline, filled with glowing light. Light that was rough around the edges, shot through with spiderweb cracks. “The time it was forcibly shoved in with originating soul, and having to separate itself out from it again, was traumatic.” A large pair of hands, each hand holding a source of light, one angry and boiling, the other small and dimmed, but warm. “Still the same soul, but changed by the experience. Needing time to relearn. And to heal.” The purple tiefling sitting in a lush graveyard garden, surrounded by both flowers and friends. Sailing on a ship, hanging from the rigging and hair tossed in the wind.

She pulled back, resting her hands on the table. “Your soul is whole, and your own, but less... stable under stress, as it were. There is no way to know for sure, since it has not happened, but I suspect that if you were brought back after a longer period of death you would be in a similar state as to when you woke in the city, due to the healing your soul would need again. I do know however that your friends would do everything they could to return you from death.”

“They would,” Kingsley said, without even thinking about it. His attention was still stuck on the cards. The artwork, as stylized as it was, captured a certain life to it. It felt... real. Alive. But at the same time, something felt off. Something missing.

“Kingsley.”

He startled, as if released from a spell, and he closed his eyes and let out a long breath. When he opened his eyes again he saw her giving him a concerned look. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I, ah. Thank you?”

Her concern didn’t fade.

“Something about this troubles you.” Not a question. A statement of fact.

“Are there other art cards in that deck?” The words spilled out of him. “I mean, they’re gorgeous, and they worked really well, but, are you sure there’s not more?”

She tilted her head, gaze growing sharp.

“There are if you want there to be.”

Something about the way she said that made him pause. He looked down at the cards again. Three rows.

Three names, he realized.

The last one, Kingsley. Him. His body, his soul, himself. The second, Lucien. Most definitely not him, and she had confirmed that as well with differentiating the souls, even with the strange situation of the shared body and his nightmares. And the first... Mollymauk. A different name, a different life, but according to her, the same body. The same soul. His hand gripped his knee, nails digging in.

His soul was his, and Kingsley would fight anyone who implied otherwise or tried to take that away. He knew from experience, however, that he might not have a choice. His eyes lingered on the second set of cards. Flicked to the first for just a moment.

“... maybe not.”

She inclined her head, and nodded. Her hands hovered over the cards and he made a go ahead gesture, and she scooped them up, one, two, three rows, shuffling them back into the deck.

“I admit, I am not accustomed to speaking of things so plainly,” she said lightly as she shuffled the deck. “Partially due to preference, and partially due to limitations I am often bound to. But a prior... interloper decided to facilitate as a way to make amends.” Kingsley saw a flash of another card, this time with a silver dragon, but it was gone too quickly for him to read the title. “It is difficult to judge the character of one such as him, but he was actually the one to ask for help first.” A small laugh. “Luckily for him, this was something I had wished to do anyway. He simply made it easier.”

Kingsley was almost positive the interloper she spoke of was Artagan, but that just raised even more questions. He’d known coming into this that she was mysterious, and that she had to get her answers from somewhere, but the fact that Artagan had been the one to ask her for help?

Another shiver ran through him, even stronger than the one he had pushed away on the ship. Caduceus and Jester would go to their gods when they needed help. So that meant that if one their gods (or sort-of-god, when it came to Artagan) asked someone else for help, that person was...

“I understand if you can’t answer, but. Who are you?”

The shuffling of the cards stopped.

“Do you want to know that answer?”

She was giving him an out. It was probably even a good idea for him to take it.

“Yes.”

He wasn’t going to take it.

She smiled again and set the now shuffled deck down on the table, drawing the top card and handing it to him. Moon and mirror, with the moon facing him, though with one key difference from the card in Jester’s deck - the crescent moon was strung like a bow.

Kingsley stared at the card, heart hammering in his chest.

“...I’m really sorry, but I have no idea what that means.”

She blinked, taken aback, before noticing his slightly manic grin and she burst out laughing.

“I think you almost believed that yourself for a moment,” the Moonweaver said and she graciously accepted the card when Kingsley handed it back to her, him immediately going and sitting on his hands afterwards to hide their shaking. “Unless you’d still prefer for me to say it out loud?”

“Nope, I’m good,” Kingsley said quickly. He was totally good right now, not panicking at all, nope. He got a raised eyebrow at that response, but her smile was still there as well and she didn’t press him.

Kingsley’s leg bounced as she placed the card back into the deck, having to actively work to keep his breathing steady. On some level, he knew that his perspective on the gods and faith was a bit skewed. Fjord sailed the seas with the Wildmother’s blessing. Caduceus had performed literal miracles with the Wildmother’s help (and, once again, one of those was the entire reason he was even alive at all). Yasha was a full fledged champion of the Stormlord. And proper god or not, Jester was still outright friends with Artagan.

In comparison, his own tentative explorations towards faith and the gods had felt like they didn’t really count. He’d learned about the Moonweaver, and her commandments had resonated with him, so he’d decided to follow them. He didn’t actively worship, or ask for blessings, or go out of his way to do things on her behalf. Instead Kingsley mostly just lived his life, sending a small prayer when it felt right and taking some comfort in the light of the moons. That was it. The big stuff, that was what his friends did. They were the ones who...

He looked around at the rest of the tent again, trying to distract himself. With his new knowledge he saw nods to the Moonweaver throughout, most of the decor having been subtle enough on its own to escape attention the first time around, though, okay, maybe the lantern hanging from the ceiling was a bit on the nose. It was an understated but beautiful space, and just one more reminder that he was talking to a literal actual god right now.

Maybe that hadn’t been the best way to try and distract himself.

Her casual comment of ‘something I had wished to do anyway’ spun over and over again in his head, him trying to figure out what the hell that even meant and dread growing at what it could mean. It didn’t make sense. Why-

“Why me?”

He’d just said that out loud. Fuck.

Kingsley looked back to her and nearly jumped when he realized that she’d been staring at him the entire time, swearing several more times in his head and wondering if he’d just pissed her off. But instead of anger her expression was soft.

“Why not you?”

Whatever he’d expected to hear, it hadn’t been that.

His brain stalled. There were so many things he wanted to say in response. So many things he knew he should NOT say in response. But she hadn’t said anything else yet, simply watching him and her hands resting on the table. He slumped, bringing his hands back to his lap.

“Because I’m not actually who you think I am?”

That got him another raised eyebrow, but this time there was no accompanying smile, and he quickly continued. “I know I’ve met you before, in that dream, but that wasn’t- I wasn’t even me yet. I didn’t know who I was s-so it makes sense that you were there for someone else.” Fuck, he knew this was a bad idea, second guessing the decision of, once again, A LITERAL ACTUAL GOD, but the sour sick fear that had been growing in the background was finally too much for him to ignore.

“Mollymauk, right? You said yourself that he’s where my soul came from and what if I'm just-” His voice cracked, and he hastily scrubbed a tear away from the corner of his eye. “I know he was a follower of yours, and he did a better job than any of the half measures I’ve ever sent your way, so. That’s why not me.” Kingsley couldn’t hold her gaze anymore and he looked down, eyes boring into his lap. “And maybe you were there for me, originally, whoever I was. But I still fucked that up anyway.”

A couple frustrated tears dropped down and landed on the back of his hands, Kingsley feeling like he was about to scream. His soul was HIS. He was Kingsley. He was himself. He knew who he was. He was. He was supposed to know who he was. He...

(Breaking apart. Disintegrating. Motes of light drifting away).

A hand cupped his check and his breath hitched, and then his breathing almost stopped entirely when a gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead.

“Time for that later,” she murmured, and then she was pulling back, tilting his chin up with her hand. She was kneeling in front of him, just a couple feet away and table now gone.

“Yes. Mollymauk is where your soul is from. And yes, my first visit in that dream was to see you, in part because of the sacrifices you had made in Cognouza, and in part because of a life lived in full and prior faith. But there is something important you must understand.” She held his gaze, not looking away. “You are not inferior to Mollymauk. You are not a mistake. And you do not have to fear losing yourself and becoming him, because he has already become you.”

Her hand cupped his check again, and she smiled softly.

“You are Kingsley Tealeaf. And I am so proud of all that you are.”

Mollymauk was... him?

Kingsley swayed in place. He didn’t know whether to cry, or to laugh, or what even to do at all. Instead he just sat there, feeling lightheaded at what had just happened. He wasn’t dead for disrespect. She had actually listened to him. Reassured him. Her. A god.

“I think I need to lie down,” he said weakly.

She gave a small laugh, withdrawing her hand and Kingsley slow motion flopped onto his side, before rolling to his back and staring at the ceiling. There were stars embroidered in the fabric up there. He hadn’t seen that before.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her sitting down next to him, leaning on one of her hands. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” he said. He could almost pick out some constellations in the embroidered stars.

“Good.” She played with one last tarot card in her free hand, just barely visible to him. A sun rising over a grave. Dawn.

Slowly, almost so slow that he missed it at first, the lights in the tent started dim. Eventually the only light left was a faint glow from the crescent moon lantern, and, to his quiet awe, the embroidered stars themselves, silver threads glimmering with magic.

“There are only a few more things left for me to say.”

He tilted his head to look in her direction. Even in the low light he could still see her clearly, and he realized she was actually the final source of light in the space, her white hair and blue skin giving off a faint luminescence.

“If a day comes where things are not fast enough, where others are not able to reach you in time and you cannot remember with your mind, remember with your heart like you did once before. Even when starting over, a home and a family will still be waiting for you.”

She glowed a little brighter, surroundings starting to fade.

“Hopefully, by the time you pass on your soul will be healed enough that you no longer have to worry. But if that is not the case...”

She leaned down, held his face in both of her hands, and placed one last kiss on his forehead.

“I will be there. Shine bright, my little monarch.”

He closed his eyes, for a single blink-

-And opened them to the deck of The Nein Heroez.

“-I told you, I’m not the one who knows. I just sent him along to someone who does, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t smite you,” Kingsley croaked and Artagan whirled around, pointing at him.

“See! I told you, he’s fine.”

Jester gasped. “Kingsley!”

“Welcome back,” Yasha murmured, and she gave him a hug with the arm around his shoulder.

“Wait, smite? Who the fuck did you send him to?” Beau said, shooting Artagan a look.

“Well! It looks like my work here is done,” Artagan said, completely ignoring Beau and clapping his hands together. “Just let me know when you need something again Jester, tah!”

He vanished in a swirl of green cloak before Beau could get another word in, and she groaned.

“Ugh. He didn't even do anything himself.”

“Yes he did!” Jester said, and she looked at Kingsley. “... it did work, right?”

“... yeah,” he said, a little dazed, and he reached up to touch his forehead. He was going to need time to process that. A lot of time.

“See! He did do something!”

Fjord gave him a thoughtful look. “Who did he send you to? You seem a little overwhelmed.”

“T-the Moonweaver.”

That got everyone’s attention on him at once. A couple of them blanched.

“... you were not kidding with the smite comment,” Caleb said, eyes a little wide.

Essek looked around at the group and everyone’s expressions. “Being sent to a god is notable, but I feel I am missing some additional context here.”

“We um. Miiight have had a plan where Artie pretended to be the Moonweaver?” Jester said.

“It went badly,” Fjord said bluntly.

“As in dragged off into the sky in chains badly,” Veth added on.

Essek blinked, then shook his head. “I should not even be surprised anymore.”

“I was pretty surprised the first time I heard about it,” Kingsley said, shrugging. “And I only heard about it cause of all the times the ship docked at Rumblecusp. I think you're good.”

Essek gave him a wry grin. “Well. I am glad I am not the only one to hear about things after the fact.”

“You get used to it,” Caduceus said, smiling. “And we’re all here now, so, you don’t have to worry about it this time.”

“True enough,” Kingsley said and he stretched, sitting up straight but still at Yasha’s side.

“What did you learn?” Yasha asked.

“Well... the main thing is she said my soul is. Fragile? And that if I’m dead too long I might forget things again. But she also said it’ll heal after enough time so it’s not all bad?” Her last words to him, about what she would do if it hadn’t healed yet, echoed in the back of his mind.

“It’s still not great though,” Beau said, sitting with her arm resting on a raised knee. “She tell you any way to fix it sooner?”

He shook his head. “She just said it’d take time.” After a second he glanced over to Essek and Caleb. “And I don’t think she meant your kind of stuff. Sorry nerds.”

“Magic cannot fix everything,” Caleb said. “As much as we might want it to.” He was lost in thought for a moment before Essek squeezed his hand, Caleb returning the gesture.

Kingsley took a moment to inhale the ocean air, grounding himself, before fully flopping back against Yasha like a cat and she chuckled, starting to comb her fingers through his hair.

“What else did you guys talk about? You were gone for a while,” Jester said.

Kingsley hesitated.

He didn’t really know why he was hesitating. Maybe he was afraid. Of what, he wasn’t sure, but that fear that had bubbled over while talking to the Moonweaver wasn’t totally gone. And maybe it was the fact that he still didn’t know what to make of things himself yet. But he also remembered the words she’d said towards the end, that even if he forgot, he would still have a family. And a home.

(An even more distant memory. Of him asking for home, and Jester saying yeah, we can go home).

He saw Caduceus watching him out of the corner of his eye, expression knowing, but the cleric didn’t push, and that was what made the decision for him. The Mighty Nein was his family. And they would be there for him no matter what.

“Well,” Kingsley said, pausing for dramatic effect. “To start, she was wearing this red coat...”

He launched into retelling, knowing that he had his family, his home, and that his heart would remember for as long as he would need.

[itrytowrite-things]

Murder podcasts

Spencer Reid x reader 

Summary: Y/N has a tendency to listen to murder podcasts while doing chores, one day Spencer comes in unannounced scaring Y/N into action. (This summary sucks but it’s fluffy) 

A/N: shout out to @with-paint, she helped me form some of this fic so check them out. 

The eerie background music and narrator filled the kitchen as I scrubbed diligently at a plate. I blinked down at it, trying in vain to remember what the hell I used it for that would cause such a stubborn stain of food. Sighing, I squeezed the soap bottle some more and ran hot water over it. Maybe soaking it would help? 

Grabbing a few of the cups I had washed, I spun around from the sink to a towel I had laid out earlier. I scrunched my nose as cold soap suds ran down my arm, hit my elbow and fell to the floor in a sticky mess I didn’t want to deal with right now. 

I was so engrossed in the podcast playing over the Alexa that I barely even processed the grueling chore that was longer than normal. I was lost in the words, that an hour longer scrubbing at dishes seemed almost fun. The dishwasher had completely died a couple of weeks ago. 

Normally Spencer would speed read the manual to figure out what was wrong with the stupid machine. But unfortunately, his case in Michigan was taking longer than he anticipated. So, he hadn’t been home to look into it, leaving me to hand wash the dishes. I didn’t mind, it was a mindless task and allowed me to catch up on my favorite podcast. 

“They found her body a week later, twenty minutes from their house,” I shook my head at that, case freaking solved. Her husband obviously killed her. I mean there’s no way the police didn’t solve this case, come on.

I moved from the towel back to the sink, sticking my hands back into the soapy water. I always believed that I should be a detective. I could solve these cases easily, Spencer claims that suspicion can only take me so far and the reason that they don’t catch the guy is not because they don’t suspect it, but because they don’t have hard evidence. I normally just scoff and give him a kiss knowing that I would get the bad guy in the end, “hard evidence” my ass. 

“Two months later the police came in and found Jeff’s disembodied head laying on their kitchen counter.” My jaw dropped and I turned around furiously, bringing a wet butter knife with me, on instinct I pointed the knife at the device. 

“Oh shit.” I said to the speaker, as if it were relaying the case itself. Well turns out I was wrong. I cleared my throat and lowered the stupid knife. I placed it down and tried my best to look less scandalized. We all make mistakes. So I might have been a little off in my husband theory, but I mean I had only heard half the case at that point so it doesn’t speak anything of my amazing detective skills. I nodded at that and tossed the knife into a little stack of silverware. The metallic sound echoing around the kitchen. I smirked at my good throw and turned back to the sink. 

I quickly got into the true grove of washing the dishes, listening to the more gruesome details of the case. Turns out the killer did quite a number on old Jeff. I was halfway done with the remaining dishes when I felt a tap on my shoulder sending my heart into a frenzy. 

I whirled around quickly bringing the closest item with me as a weapon. The plastic spatula slapped the asalint straight in the face creating an awfully loud twack sound that bounced off the kitchen walls. I blinked in horror at realizing who exactly was standing in front of me. 

Spencer's cheek turned red immediately. 

“Oh my god! Spence! I am so sorry!” I dropped the spatula and brought my other hand to his face trying to soothe his skin. My hand was covered in water and soap suds, and it dripped down his face onto the already wet floor.

“I am so so sorry. You scared me.” I rubbed my thumb over the spot, feeling his heated skin. Jesus, I felt awful. I didn’t hold anything back when I hit him. I figured I was fending for my life, not greeting my boyfriend. 

“It’s okay.” His much larger hand cupped mine removing it from his face. The redness had died down a little, making his skin a rosy pink instead of the previous bright red. He looked adorable which only made me feel worse. Who looks that cute after getting slapped in the face with a spatula? 

Spencer startled me yet again when a chuckle came bubbling out of him. His laugh was like someone bottled the sound of happiness. It made my own laughter arise every time without a doubt even if I didn’t understand what was funny.

“I guess I don’t have to worry about you protecting yourself.” A loud squeak sound emitted from my body unexpectedly followed by more laughter. I slapped him very lightly across the chest, kissing his unharmed cheek. 

“You're lucky I wasn’t cutting vegetables.” I said,  rustling my way into his arms pulling his body against my tightly, loving the way his laughter shook my entire body. I felt the short press of his lips against the crown of my head before tucking my head into the nook of his neck. I inhaled deeply, taking the scent of him with me. The apartment had started to lose its scent with him being gone for so long. I was beyond eager for the apartment to smell like us again.

“I think those podcasts are giving you wild ideas.” 

“They would never find your body Dr.Reid.” I teased, poking gently at his side making him squirm in my grip. Another round of laughter filled the small space, it was only when it died down that I realized my podcast was still running in the background. 

“Alexa, stop,” I shouted into the air stopping the podcast. “The neighbor did it.” I said with coincidence knowing that my answer was correct this time. Spencer let out a belt of laughter, nodding his head, a big grin on his face. 

I pulled back from Spencer taking in his features for the first time. He looked tired, his eye bags had doubled creating a skunk in effect. I could see the trouble in his eyes, the case was hard. It killed me to see him after a hard case, he looked more and more defeated after each one. However, it was what he loved doing and my job wasn’t to erase the trauma of his job, but to ease him back into daily life. I thumbed his eye bags lazily, a pout taking over my face. 

“You wanna take a shower and I’ll start us some dinner.” I asked gently. Not wanting to completely destroy the quiet we created. He nodded slightly looking younger than ever. I quickly pulled him back into me taking all of his weight. “I love you bub.” His hair felt silky against my fingertips as I disentangled the curls. 

“Love you too.” He mumbled, his heated breath warming my skin. I waited a few comfortable minutes rocking our conjoined bodies in the cozy silence of our kitchen, I took a deep breath and said what was on my mind. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

I don’t ever ask Spencer for the details of his cases. He either goes into a tangent without prompting or doesn’t feel like talking about it. I used to think that talking to Spencer about his job would be like listening to my murder podcasts. It honestly was one of the things I was excited for, but I soon found out it’s nothing like that.

When Spencer spoke of cases it was personal. He felt every death that was caused and saw every killing through the eyes of monsters. He held so much emotion in his voice when he spoke of the victims, that I often can’t help but cry. How a person can hold that much pain and still continue to do it everyday, is beside me. 

He shook his head, squeezing my torso before finally pulling back and placing a soft kiss to my lips. 

I continued the dishes, washing the last few. I left the podcast off, listening instead to the shower from down the hall. I scrubbed off the last of the grime before starting the oven. A simple dinner was always best in these situations. I pulled out a pre-made chicken pot pie from the freezer and placed it in the oven. 

As I moved to dry and put away the dishes while waiting for pie to finish. Spencer emerged from the bathroom freshly bathed. He wore a thin gray shirt paired with some soft looking sweatpants. My upper lip jutted out automatically. God I love him. 

“Feel better?” I kept my voice low, not wanting to startle any peace that the shower might have brought him. He nodded slowly. 

“What did you cook?”

“A chicken pot pie, I hope that’s okay.” 

“It’s perfect.” He smiled and returned to my arms, kissing my neck once before tucking his head into my neck. The edge of his wet hair scraped against my skin in an uncomfortable way, yet I only moved enough to rub circles into his back. 

A loud beep emitted from the oven caused me to jump in Spencer's arms. He let out a small chuckle. 

“Pick us something to watch and I’ll plate us some food.” I hummed turning my back to him. I heard him walking towards the living room as I bent to retrieve the hot food. 

Spencer sat criss cross on the couch, Les Enfants du Paradis was displayed on the TV. I handed him the steaming bowl and sat down, sitting close enough for our knees to knock together. I have no idea what Les Enfants du Paradis was, but I would watch literally anything he wanted as long as he was here. 

“It’s in French, but I figured I could whisper the translations to you while we watch. Or I could pick something else?” 

“No! This is perfect Spence. I love it when you translate, you tell the story better.” He let out a little blush highlighting his previous slap mark. I bit my lip and winced slightly, “How’s your face?” 

He touched the spot faintly, he didn’t wince when his fingers made contact which was a good sign. However, I have an inkling that a small bruise would form in the center of the slap which was going to be a fun story to tell his colleagues Monday. 

“I’ve had worse, but you wield a lot of power with a cheap piece of plastic.”

“I am professionally trained in the art of spatula wielding Spence, don’t try that at home.” I stared at him, my face blank before a blast of laughter came out of both of us. One can only be so serious when you are talking about slapping people in the face with kitchen utensils. 

Spencer started up the movie, and we remained there for the rest of the evening. Laughter and dramatic sighs followed by even more dramatic translations from Spencer. At some point he went so off script that even I could tell his story was bullshit. I didn’t call him out though just allowed him to spit nonsense, I would let him create fake French stories until he was blue in the face if that meant we got to stay in this happy bubble forever. 

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Daring - Chapter 2

This is part two of my Abby Mordern!Au, you can read Chapter 1 here.

Masterlist

Abby and the reader have dinner at Abby's place. There is music playing and referenced, so I'd recommend you listen to this playlist with all the songs playing in order as soon as the date night begins. About 10k words.

CW for alcohol consumption, mention of death/murder, mention of dubious consent (and possibly terrible grammar. It's 10pm, I just finished this, I don't have a proofreader atm)

Thyme and Tree Bark

“Don’t mess this up, airhead. Take care!”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, idiot!”

You closed the door behind Mark as he vanished down the stairs and headed straight for your bed. Though you were less wobbly on your feet after devouring half of a perfectly cheesy pizza with just the right amount of jalapenos, it had thrown you straight into a food coma. Your angel of a brother had come over at noon with two chilled cans of coke and a large pizza from your favorite Italian place and not even ripped open the curtains as he usually did. Instead, he had thrown himself on the bed right next to you, handed you a slice, and demanded you start talking.

Of course, he already knew about Abby and your embarrassing shyness when it came to the buff blonde, so he was extremely proud of the progress you had made with your excruciating crush. You both agreed that Abby had definitely invited you over for a date this week - alone, without Manny there - and that it had to mean she was interested, too. He had laughed about the little bar stint when Abby had shut down your flirt with the hot waitress in an instant and was now 100% sure this was going to go great. As long as you kept it together and didn’t ruin everything. As you often did. This needed some tactical planning.

Mouths full of cheesy delight and laughing at each other’s stupid ideas, you and your brother had come up with a fairly foolproof plan. You would text Abby in 1-2 days, keeping it cool and asking when you should come over. Then, you would suggest making cocktails at home, already granting a fun activity and something to loosen the mood. You would keep it casual and bring over some nice liquor and maybe a bag of chips, perfect for watching a movie. You’d try to keep the conversation casual and try to speak mostly about Abby, asking lots of questions so you didn’t get tangled up in speaking about yourself. If you steered the conversation toward movies, you could watch something exciting and maybe even scary together so you could cuddle up on the couch together. And well, if you got that far, things would probably fall into place naturally. Foolproof. Y/N-proof.

You groaned as you reached over to grab your phone from your nightstand. You had a message from your mom asking if you wanted to come over for dinner next weekend and an email from your professor who wanted to submit your last essay to some kind of grant application. You’d have to answer her later, your head still felt like it was filled with cotton. Instead, you sent Leah a message.

-Hey, you still alive? There’s leftover pizza and coke over here.

Five seconds later, there was a delighted squeal at the other side of the wall and you heard the click of your roommate’s door before yours opened and Leah tiptoe-danced inside, beaming at you. She was wearing nothing but an extremely tight-fitting cropped wifebeater and a khaki thong, accentuating her long legs as she leaped right onto your bed and almost made you fly as her weight hit the mattress. You tried not to stare at her perfectly toned abs as she opened the gigantic carton and held up a slice of pizza over her head, letting the tip dangle in her mouth before biting down with a moan that made you snort awkwardly.

“Good morning, you animal.”

Leah just moaned again, making a grabbing motion with her hand and pointing toward the second can of coke on your nightstand. You laughed silently as you handed her the cold can, condensed water running down the sides and wetting your fingers. You wiped them on the blanket. The tall brunette swallowed hard and took a sip of coke.

“Good morning, womanizer.” She grinned widely. “I’m so proud of you, man. This is the first time I’ve seen you in action and I can safely say Abby was just as surprised as I was.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Oh god, was I that obvious? Did I do anything inappropriate? I thought it went well, but now I’m not so sure.” You spread your fingers to peak at your roommate who was currently chewing on a ginormous bite, tomato juice running down her chin. No manners, that girl. She just shook her head and made a noise somewhere between protest and encouragement.

“No, you were fine,” she said with a full mouth, “very tipsy, but cute. I hope you remember Abby inviting you to her place.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

You ran your fingers through your hair, immediately getting stuck in a tangle of knots. God, you needed a shower.

“Yeah, I already went over it with Mark. We made a plan so I won’t embarrass myself.”

“Good. I hope it goes well, you two would be cute together. Hot, even. I mean, no one can deny the allure of those biceps. And her ass?! Godly.” She easily evaded the kick you aimed at her ribs, laughing and slapping your shin away.

“Come on, let’s not act like you’re not ogling her every chance you get. I am, too - the woman looks like a greek goddess!”

“That’s enough,” you giggled, aiming another playful kick in her direction but only lightly hitting her in the thigh. “I know what she looks like.”

“Right. And soon, you’ll hopefully see a lot more of her.” This time, Leah jumped off the bed before your toes could sink right into her side. You tried to suppress a grin as you two stared at each other for a moment before Leah sat back down cross-legged and began eating the last slice of pizza.

“I mean,” she said casually, “you have seen more of a woman before, right?”

You grabbed your coke and turned it in your hands before answering.

“Yeah, I have. It wasn’t… It wasn’t all that, though. Just one time and we were both so nervous it was just awkward.”

Now Leah looked at you with a mixture of shock and pity.

“Come on, Y/N. Only once? You’ve never seen stars because of a woman’s tongue? Never screamed into a pillow because of some skilled sapphic strap game? Never lost your mi-”

“Leaahhhh!” You groaned, feeling blood shoot into your cheeks. “No, okay? I… I made the other girl cum, but for me, it was just… it was too unfamiliar and I didn’t know her well enough to really let myself enjoy it.”

Suddenly a thought crossed your mind and you felt your eyes open wide.

“Wait. Has Abby…? Is she..?”

Leah paused mid-bite and thought for a second.

“Well, she does have experience with men, obviously. As far as women go… I honestly don’t know. She’s dated a few, but it never went longer than a couple of weeks. I don’t know how fast things go with her and she’s never gone into detail with me. I have to ask Nora about that.”

“Don’t you dare! She’ll know this is about me and tell Abby!”

“Oh come on, I’m interested, too.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you so you know what to prepare for, win-win!” She nudged your foot and gave you a mischievous half-smile.

“For god’s sake, do what you must.” You finished your coke and threw it perfectly into the bin beside your desk. Leah gave you an impressed nod. “And now I desperately need a shower. There is a literal nest on top of my head.”

“True,” Leah said and stood up, stretching her limbs as she walked to the door. “Thanks for the pizza. I’m gonna ask Jordan if he wants to come over, so don’t walk out naked if you don’t want a threesome.” She winked at you before closing the door, but a small part at the back of your brain knew that she wasn’t completely joking. You sighed and swung your legs off your bed. No point in lying around, it was past 3 pm anyway.

Grabbing your phone, a shirt, and some clean boxers, you headed for the bathroom. You took your time showering, detangling the mess on your head with lots of conditioner, humming along to Marika Hackman’s cover of I Follow Rivers as you stood under the hot stream of water and brushing your teeth for at least five minutes while waiting for a hair mask to do its magic. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was filled with hot steam and you felt like a whole new person. You slipped into your fresh clothes and held the blow dryer to the mirror until your reflection was clear.

So. Here you were. Finally, you had spoken to the woman of your dreams and even flirted with her. She may have even been jealous of your short conversation with Ellie, the bartender. Tomorrow, you would text her, you would be brave and cool and not at all awkward. As you collected your clothes off the floor and took your phone, you suddenly realized something that would destroy your entire plan. You didn’t even have Abby’s phone number. Why hadn’t you asked her? Of course, you could ask Leah for it, but Abby would know because she knew she hadn’t given it to you. It would be a lot less cool and casual. Fuck.

You stepped into the hallway and ran straight into Jordan. Perfect. Good thing Leah had warned you.

“Oh, hi Y/N! You doing alright after all those tequila shots?” Jordan’s face was open and kind. You immediately relaxed. Just a guy, not a threat.

“Better than I thought I would, actually. What about you?”

“Well, I sent them back out the way they came as soon as I got home.” He grimaced and shrugged. “Just glad I’m still alive, to be honest.”

You had to laugh. “I’m glad, too. Leah would have been devastated.”

“I hope so.” He grinned back. The silence between you stretched a little bit too long.

“Anyways, I’m gonna see what she’s up to. See you later?”

“Yeah, sure!” You said, relieved that he didn’t make it awkward. You quickly slipped into your room and sank down on the bed, composing a text to Mark.

-Minor hiccup - I don’t have her number.

His reply came immediately.

-Shit. What now?

You let yourself fall back on the mattress and covered your face with your arm. Your phone vibrated again and you lifted it up, hoping for a brilliant idea.

-Hey, this is Abby. Are we still on for next week?

You almost dropped your phone on your face. For a minute, you just stared at the message. Then you rolled over onto your stomach and screamed into your pillow.

-Hi Abby. We absolutely are. Y/N.

You tried to suppress a fit of giggles as you texted your brother.

-Nvm, she just texted me.

-Omg what!! Play it cool, don’t answer yet. What did she say???

-Oops already answered. Still on for next week.

-Incredibly casual lol. Whatever, good for you!

-Shut up!

Another text by Abby came in and you actually started drumming your feet on the bed with excitement.

-Tuesday? I could cook for us

-Very impressive, I’ll bite. What time should I come over?

-Very clever. 6pm? Any allergies?

-Vegetarian, hope that’s okay. 6 is great, text me your address?

You watched the little text bubble pop up and vanish again for a good minute, getting more and more nervous for her answer.

- No problem. 2425 Constance.

There was nothing else to do but scream into your pillow again.

-

The next two days went excruciatingly slow. You spent the rest of your Sunday in bed, watching a terrible zombie movie and later ordering curry because you couldn’t be bothered with preparing any food. As it got late, you suddenly heard a knock on the wall. At first, you thought it was accidental, until the knocking started to continue in a steady rhythm. With a death glare that you hoped would reach through the concrete, you plugged your headphones into your laptop and continued watching your movie.

On Monday, you threw yourself into art history coursework and caught up on your studies, emailed your professor, and spent three hours on an essay about the depiction of blood in paintings of Judith beheading Holofernes. Lovely subject. Even though you got through a lot of your tasks for the day, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at your phone every 10 minutes to see if you had missed a message. Of course, nothing came up. Around 4 pm, your phone buzzed and you leapt for it only to find out it was Leah asking you to buy toilet paper later. At 6pm, you shut off your laptop and grabbed your backpack to go grocery shopping.

Standing in the liquor store you realized you hadn’t asked Abby about cocktails.

“Looking for something in particular?” the elderly lady behind the counter asked. It seemed to be her own shop and to have been hers for a while, judging by the elegant wooden shelves and the warm, nice feeling of the room instead of neon lights and rows of white metal.

“Uh, yeah, actually. I have a date tomorrow and I thought we could make cocktails, but I forgot to ask what she likes. So now I don’t know what to bring.” You gave her an apologetic half smile. She stood up from her seat behind the register, growing not even 2 inches standing compared to sitting and made her way over to you. Her eyes twinkled behind thick glasses that made her look a little bit like an owl.

“Well, dear. I don’t know if I would go straight into the hard liquor on a first date. On my last first date, we had a delicious red wine, a Merlot. Couldn’t that be something? Are you going to eat anything?”

“Oh yes, she said she’d cook for us, but I don’t know what exactly.”

The shop owner gently put a hand on your arm and guided you to a shelf of dark bottles.

“Well, Merlot goes well with any food, so I think it would be perfect. Cocktails come later, when you dress up and go out together or after a night of theater.” You felt a surge of warmth spread through your chest. Theater? Well, why not? For a second, you began to trail off, imagining Abby in a perfectly tailored suit, you at her arm just as dressed up, every head turning as you entered the room and ordered Gin Tonics at the bar during the break. The voice next to you pulled you back to the present.

“If you’re cooking at home, wine is the thing to bring, trust me.”

“I trust you,” you said with a smile as you took the bottle she handed you. The label was a creamy white, with beautiful golden letters. Hopefully this wouldn’t bankrupt you. “Thank you for your help.”

The shopkeeper sat back down in her chair with a sigh and typed into the cash register. 15.99$. That wasn’t so bad. You paid and gently put the bottle inside your backpack.

“You know, you should come by soon and let me know how it went. I think that Merlot will bring you good luck. My wife and I still have it every Sunday.” Your head snapped up and your eyes met that charming, smart twinkle again, flashing at you out of dark brown irises. For a moment, all of the things you wanted to say were stuck in your throat, then you just broke into a smile.

“That’s wonderful, ma’am. I hope I can have that, in the future.”

“Of course you will, dear.” She really sounded like she meant it. A small lump suddenly appeared in your throat.

“Thank you so much. I wish you all the best.”

“Go get her!”

You laughed and waved at her again as you exited the shop, taking the warmth and comfort of it with you and tucking it right beneath the bottom of your heart and the top of your stomach where you knew it would fuel you for a few days. You had already decided that you would come back and make it your mission to befriend that old lady. What a wonderful woman.

Only 23 hours to go. That night, it was almost impossible to fall asleep.

-

You got through the next day by once again banning any thought of the evening from your mind and diving head first into your assignments. You were going to lead a discussion on different planes of language or communications in women’s art and literature and reading up on the historical differences between male and female narratives, beginning with the ancient poet Sappho. It was an exciting topic, something you were extremely thankful for. Otherwise you might have been looking at your phone every 3 minutes instead of every 20. Of course, no message from Abby.

The bottle of wine was standing on your nightstand, reminding you of your plans with an exciting tingle in your stomach. At 4pm, you gave up on doing anything productive. You spent forever in the shower, stealing some of Leah’s expensive pink body scrub, shaving everywhere and regretting it immediately because you felt stupid for assuming anything, entertaining the but what if thoughts while you thoroughly lathered your entire body in Leah’s shampoo and shower gel and spending a good 10 minutes just standing under the hot water because you weren’t ready to leave that fantasy yet. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was an actual steam bath and you could hardly see the door through the thick waves of wonderfully scented fog. You took your time stealing some more of Leah’s skincare products, having come to the conclusion that if she noticed anything and scolded you for it, you might as well try out the whole arsenal.

When you finally opened your closet door, feeling luxurious and clean and fresh, it was 5.10pm. What the hell were you going to wear? You and Mark had agreed on casual, but what the hell did that even mean? You decided to ask him.

-Help!!! Freaking out over my outfit, need a definition for casual

-Jeans and T-Shirt, just your standard outfit. Imagine meeting me for sushi.

-I’m bringing red wine. It seems wrong to bring wine in jeans and a t-shirt..

-What happened to cocktails?? Trust me, keep it simple. You don’t wanna turn up in a dress and she opens the door in sweatpants.

-I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in sweatpants. Ughh fuck I don’t have time for this. Jeans and t-shirt it is. Lesbian grandma recommended wine, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow x

-Go get her x

You quickly slipped into some black jeans that were just the right amount of tightly fitting around your ass and a white shirt with a tiny pomegranate embroidered on the front. Then you put on your jacket and quickly threw your wallet, phone and keys into a tote before grabbing the wine and putting it in as well. With a last look into the hallway mirror and a yelled goodbye to Leah, you rushed out of your apartment.

The evening air was not as cool as you had expected and the sun was just about to set. On your way to the train station, you typed out an on my way! message to Abby and quickly deleted it again. No sense in sending it now when you hadn’t spoken since Sunday and were about to see her. The train ride was annoying, the wagon stuffed with commuters and some guy trying to convince you the apocalypse was upon you all. Zombies, not the last judgement - something different at least.

During the walk from the station to Abby’s house, you were sure it wouldn’t take much more for you to actually start levitating. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your throat was so cramped up it was hard to breathe. When you pulled out your phone, your fingers were actually shaking. Jesus Christ, get a grip. 5.58 pm.

And there it was, 2425 Constance. Just a normal suburban white house, like any other in the street. It actually seemed a bit weird, Manny and Abby living here in the midst of what seemed to be a family neighborhood with real adults . Then again, they both weren’t in college, so you supposed they actually were real adults. When you walked up to the front door, you could hear faint music from inside - jazz? You wouldn’t have guessed she was the jazz type, but then again you knew almost nothing about her. Right. Ask questions, keep the conversation about her. Be cool.

You knocked.

Abby opened the door, a wave of warm air hitting you from inside. It smelled delightful. Her face was slightly flushed, her lips parted as she took in a deep breath. She had tied her hair back in a low bun, but a few strands had fallen out and framed her face. One was standing up in a funny angle.

“Hi, Abby,” you said, trying to keep your voice level and not stare at her body. Fuck, she had dressed up. And she looked hot.

“Hi!” A smile slowly grew wide on her face. When she realized that she was blocking the door, she quickly shook her head and stepped aside. “Come in! Can I take your jacket?”

Oh God, this was hopeless. You already knew you were hers. Thanking her, you took off your jacket and she hung it in a closet next to the entrance. When she turned around, you got a chance to admire her fully. She wore wide dress pants that perfectly accentuated all of her muscles, topped with a loose white shirt with wide sleeves, reminding you a little bit of a pirate. Her jewelry rounded off the pirate look and you had to bite back a grin. She raised her eyebrows at you.

“What?” Her cheeks were still slightly red, but you attributed it to standing in a hot kitchen for probably the last hour, judging by the variety of smells overlapping and mixing together, already making your mouth water.

“Uh, I brought wine,” you said and held out the bottle. Eloquent as always. Abby took it and whistled through her teeth as she inspected the label.

“That looks classic. The sauce I made has some wine in it as well, this is perfect. Thank you, what a great idea!”

You were overwhelmed with her generous praise and didn’t know where to look, so you settled on her hands. You had always sneaked looks at her hands, at the way she held a glass or drummed on a table or clasped them when she was intently listening to someone. They looked strong and rough from work, but there was also a delicacy in their movement and you were sure her touch could be as gentle as the brush of a hummingbird flying past. Realizing you were staring, you tore your gaze away.

“It smells delicious in here, I can’t wait to see what you cooked.” You followed her into the kitchen, where she placed the bottle on the counter and took a corkscrew from a drawer. A big red pot was standing on the gas stove over a tiny flame, the lid still hiding its contents. Your stomach suddenly growled loudly into the silence.

“Someone’s hungry.” Abby gave you a side glance and an amused smirk as she screwed the silver device into the cork. “Everything’s already set, we can get started right away.”

You covered your eyes with your hand for a second before laughing.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot to have lunch earlier and then I figured I’d just wait so I could really savour this.”

“Smart thinking. I made patates au vin , a vegetarian version of coq au vin which is chicken in wine. It’s basically potatoes and vegetables in a thick brown sauce, served with some good rustic bread.” You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back at the thought of getting to eat home cooked french cuisine made by Abby in a few minutes.

“Oh my God, say that again.” You could barely stop yourself from moaning. Abby laughed and opened the wine with a loud pop.

“Here, take this over to the dinner table. I’m right behind you.” You took the bottle and followed her nod into the dining room. The wooden table was beautifully set with big and small plates, glasses for water and wine, candles, two blue glass bottles of water and a bowl of salad topped with what looked like apples, pomegranate seeds and feta cheese. You carefully placed the bottle of wine next to the water bottles and stepped aside for Abby, who came out of the kitchen carrying the heavy pot and placed it on a cork coaster in the middle of the table.

“Wait, let me just…” she trailed off as she grabbed her phone from the sideboard and changed the music. A saxophone led a jazz band into the song before a beautiful female voice set in, soft as butter and filling the room like the smell of roses. The voice was familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite place it. As Abby sat down, the music came to a crescendo before breaking off, the voice setting in again with a soft

is it a crime?

“Who sings this?” you asked as Abby opened the water bottle and filled your glasses.

“Oh, it’s Sade. She was my dad’s favorite.”

And I want you to want me too, the woman sang, and your eyes met over the table. You swallowed. Was? Not the right time.

“Sade? Oh, she sings Smooth Operator, right? I know that one, but I never checked out more of her music.”

Abby smiled at you and opened the lid of the pot.

“Yeah. This is the Promise album, my favorite. She is a force.”

A wave of steam erupted from the pot and you bent forward to look inside. Thick, roasted wedges of yellow potatoes lay in a bed of orange and purple carrots, mushrooms and tomatoes in a thick brown sauce, a stalk of thyme on top and a bay leaf poking out from the sauce. You weren’t sure if you were drooling, but you didn’t care.

“Abby, oh my God! This is fantastic.”

A spark had lit in her eyes when she heard you say her name. She elegantly stood up again, grabbed a serving spoon, and held out her hand for your plate. You watched her hands again as she plated an array of vegetables for you and used the spoon to draw a little sauce heart on the rim of the plate. Your ribs felt two sizes too small around your chest. This woman was actually going to be the death of you.

“Thanks,” you quietly said and waited as Abby helped herself to a plate. She sat down and gestured toward the small basket with thick slices of grey bread with a dark brown crust.

“Help yourself. Bon appétit.”

After a few moments of eating in comfortable silence before you showered the blonde in an array of compliments, this time not able to refrain from moaning when you bit into a tender, sweet purple carrot, the conversation began to flow. Abby complimented the wine, you talked about your studies, Abby told a few work stories in which both she and Nora were involved, you told her about your close relationship with your brother and she bittersweetly reminisced about her upbringing as an only child with a single dad. It had just been the two of them, moving frequently because of his changing jobs in different hospitals. He had been a neurosurgeon, and a brilliant one at that, but always humble and ready to help wherever he could. Abby sat up straighter when she talked about him, her chest actually swelling with pride when she told you about one time they had rescued an injured horse that had run away and been hit by a car in front of them.

“I think I was 16 back then. It’s one of my favorite memories of him. It actually wasn’t long before…” Her eyebrows moved into a frown and she bit her lip, pushing a small piece of onion around her plate. Fuck, maybe it would have been easier to talk about you, after all.

“We don’t have to talk about it. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

She looked up and you expected to see tears, but her eyes were full of love and her face smoothed out into a gentle smile.

“No, it’s okay. I’m still working on it, and part of my therapy is telling people who don’t know yet. You know, I don’t really have a lot of friends.” She suddenly laughed, easing the tension at the bottom of your lungs. “That sounds stupid, of course I do. I have Manny and Nora and Leah and Jordan and Owen, I guess. But the thing is, they all knew me before. I haven’t really made friends ever since my dad.. passed away. The idea of needing to open up to someone about all this so I can develop a real connection and friendship with them is just a lot to bear.”

“The mortifying ordeal of being known,” you mumbled, more to yourself, crumpling up your napkin in one hand.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, it’s this quote from a New York Times article that has been floating around the internet for a while. ‘If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known’.” You looked up at her and inhaled deeply. “It’s something I’m also terrified of. Although it seems kind of stupid sometimes, because compared to you for example, I don’t really have a good reason.”

Abby looks at you like she’s just discovered something extremely interesting. She takes a sip of her wine before answering, her silver rings blinking at you in the candlelight.

“It’s not at all stupid. I’ve always been very careful with who I open up to, even before my dad died. It’s horrifying, laying yourself bare for a person, putting yourself on a silver plate and handing it to them and saying there, now do with it what you wish. Maybe they’ll look at it and say no, thanks. Maybe they’ll call everyone and say hey, look at this mad woman with her twisted insides, isn’t that funny? Maybe they’ll see it and think, I can do this, and then after a few years they suddenly realize they actually can’t and you’re way too much and so they leave for someone with a more simple, prettier silver plate. Maybe they’ll even take a few pieces with them as they go.”

She didn’t sound bitter as she said it, and she didn’t look terribly sad either, more as if she was making an observation about something she was mildly interested in. You didn’t know what to say except for show me your silver plate, please show me your all, and I will devour it, savor it, keep it with me forever. But you stayed silent, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“I’m quite the handful, am I? Sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown all this” - she gestured toward herself - “at you during our first date.” Then her eyes widened as she realized what she had said. “Fuck, sorry, I just assumed… you probably don’t…”

Finally, movement came back into you. You jumped from your chair and were next to her in a few paces. She lifted a hand and you took it in yours.

“Of course this is a date,” you said gently and smiled at her. “Otherwise why would I have been this nervous for the past three days, thinking of nothing but you, constantly checking my phone to see if you texted me? And I brought red wine, come on.” That brought a smile to her face. She chuckled lightly.

“So I haven’t just ruined everything?” The hope in her eyes was mixed with real, honest fear.

“No, of course not. I’m glad you’re being open with me. You know, I planned not to reveal too much about myself tonight, fearing I would scare you away or say something stupid and make you suddenly lose interest.”

The current song ended and a soft, funky beat came on. There it was again, that twinkle in Abby’s eyes. Your hands were still clasped around hers and she made no move to pull back.

“Well, now I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me. Lay it on me. Over dessert, maybe?”

You raised your eyebrows.

“There’s dessert? You’re going to have to roll me out of here later.”

She laughed, warm and genuine, and the pride you had felt back in The Closet filled your chest again. You would do anything just to be the one to make her laugh every day for the rest of your life. She got up and you both started clearing the table together.

Never going to know

What fate is going to blow

Your way, just hope that it feels right

Could that Sade lady be any more on the nose? You risked a glance at Abby, who was smiling to herself. You followed her into the kitchen and she opened the fridge to produce a large glass dish, showing the several layers of biscuit and white cream, topped with dark cacao.

“Tiramisu? Seriously Abby, how much time did you spend in the kitchen today?”

She gave you a crooked grin before exiting the kitchen.

“Took the day off.”

You just sighed and went back into the dining room.

Such a fine time as this

“Here.” Abby handed you a small plate with a piece of her gourmet tiramisu. Your fingers brushed against each other and you both paused for just the blink of an eye.

What could equal the bliss

The thrill of the first kiss

You sat down and grabbed the small fork left next to your wine glass. On second thought, you took another sip of Merlot. It really was exquisite.

“Buon’ appetito,” you said and sliced off a perfect edge of tiramisu. The soft, coffee-drenched biscuit fell apart on your tongue, mixing with the heavy vanilla-flavored mascarpone. “Did you know where the name tiramisu comes from?”

Abby lifted her fork to her mouth and softly closed her lips around the piece of creamy dessert. You were entranced, watching her hand sink down to the table again, then her jaw moving and flexing as she chewed. She raised her eyebrows questioningly and you cleared your throat, taking another piece on your fork.

“ Tira mi su is Italian for ‘pull me down’. It’s the last thing you eat after dinner and the thing that makes you tired, pulls you right into the food coma. In restaurants, it rounds off the meal and guests will probably leave in the following hour because they feel they’re ready to go home.”

Never as good as the first time

Natural as the way we came to be

“Oh,” Abby said, her voice quiet. She looked up at you through dark lashes. “And are you going home after this?”

“No.” You said it without thinking, only knowing what was true in your heart. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m glad.” Taking a deep breath, Abby straightened up, then reached a hand across the table, her palm facing up. You stared at it for a fraction of a second before placing your hand in hers, feeling something fall into place inside you. The glances you exchanged said so much more than you could possibly dare to say out loud right now.

You used your free hand to stab the last piece of tiramisu. This time it was Abby who was watching you with hungry eyes as the fork vanished between your lips and emerged clean.

“This tiramisu could be the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” you said after swallowing and Abby’s fingers twitched ever so slightly around your hand.

“Thank you. I’m really into French and Italian cuisine, as you may have noticed.”

You leaned back in your chair, careful not to pull back your hand.

“I couldn’t do it, honestly. Spending so much time in the kitchen. Especially not with a job like yours, on your feet all day. I’d probably survive off of pasta and takeout.”

Abby smiled and began slowly drawing circles on the back of your hand with her thumb. You were already hyper-aware of how your blood rushed through every vein of your body, a side-effect of the red wine, but now it came to a roar in your ears.

“I guess I need some kind of hobby besides lifting weights. It calms me down. And it’s not just about the end result, about getting to eat something, but also about picking the right ingredients, taking my time cutting them up, trying new recipes with new flavors, and learning more about food and culture, and honestly about myself. It’s like meditating.”

“That sounds…” you were at a loss for words, “unbelievable? I’ve never heard someone talk about cooking like that. And I’ve never felt that way about it, too. I guess I’d like to, though. It sounds nice.”

Abby brushed her thumb over your knuckles.

“Well, I could show you.” You tilted your head slightly. “I mean, we could cook together. Next time. If you want to?”

Sade’s voice, smooth as polished wood and dripping with honey cut into the moment.

How could I have doubted

Honey, it's with me that you belong

“Yeah, I’d love to. What do you have in mind?”

“Do you like lasagna? We could make a vegetable lasagna and substitute the meat for soy. I could show you how to make a béchamel.”

You laughed and squeezed her hand.

“I love lasagna, although I have no idea what a beshmel is.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Abby’s face was glowing with happiness.

As the last two songs of the album played, you helped Abby clean up the table. You got into an argument about doing the dishes - Abby said she’d do it later but you insisted you would do them now or at least help because so far you had not lifted a finger.

“Come on, Abby, please let me help?” You tried your best doe eyes at her. She grinned and playfully slapped your upper arm.

“Okay. But I’ll put on different music.”

She vanished to the dining room while you began filling the sink with water. A high note filled the room before a man spoke.

You broke my heart / 'Cause I couldn't dance

You didn't even want me around

And now I'm back / To let you know

I can really shake 'em down

Abby stepped into your field of vision. The music set in, a delightful 60’s rock and roll melody, and Abby began dancing toward you with tiny steps and shaking shoulders. She was lip synching to the coarse voice of the singer and reaching out her hands for you. Snapping out of your frozen position, you shook your head, grabbed her hands, and were immediately twirled through the kitchen. A squeak escaped you as Abby pulled you back toward her and with another pirouette, you almost slammed into her chest. You both laughed out loud, continuing to dance through the kitchen with big, overexaggerated moves, flailing your arms and shuffling your feet across the tile.

I can do the twist

Now, tell me baby

Do you like it like this?

You quickly began singing along to the simple lyrics and both of you were giggling at each other’s dance moves. The next song was Stand By Me and you both settled down, beginning to clean the pots and dishes. You did the washing while Abby dried off the pieces you gave her and put them back into the right cupboards. Both of you were swaying and humming along to the music.

During the second chorus, both of you began belting along, filling the kitchen with the wonderfully familiar sound of slightly drunk women singing together. As the song ended, you both comically froze and waited for the next song to set in. When it was La Bamba by Ritchie Valens, you both continued singing along and showing off some probably terrible salsa moves. You were done in no time and Abby took your hand, pulling you into the dining room and sliding across the wooden floors with you. Your stomach hurt from laughing and you couldn’t stop smiling.

Next came the bittersweet Be My Baby by the Ronettes, a song you remembered from your childhood, vague memories of your parents slow dancing together after another terrible fight. You swallowed down the hint of bitterness creeping up from your stomach. Instead, you looked up at Abby, almost a full head taller than you, and dared yourself to step forward. You placed your right hand in Abby’s and your left on her tricep, coming unbearably and exhilaratingly close. Abby put her hand on your back, right below your shoulder blade, warming you through the fabric of your shirt. Your faces were incredibly close, her breath warm on your nose, and you could have counted every single freckle on her beautiful face. There was a slim ring of gold around her pupil, complimenting the green of her iris. She was breathtaking.

You couldn’t take this any longer. Should you kiss her? Everything inside you wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to close the last inch of distance. It felt like wanting to do a handstand but pulling back at the last second every time because of a deep fear of failing and hurting yourself. It was terribly frustrating.

Instead, you leaned your head against the round muscle of Abby’s shoulder, turning your face toward her chest and pressing your temple to her collarbone. You could smell the herbs she had used to cook earlier in the fabric of her shirt, but her skin smelled like pine and something else, earthy and dark, like tree bark or wool. Abby rested her chin against your forehead and her low hum of contentment vibrated against your cheek.

A light waltz melody began, Unchained Melody, a song you knew from some commercial and had listened to for a few weeks straight after.

I need your love

God speed your love to me

You smiled to yourself and could sense Abby was doing the same. You kept slowly turning, dancing through the candle-lit room and swaying side to side. The band set in louder and you lifted your head again. Abby’s eyes were fixed to yours, but you couldn’t stop yours from wandering lower, finding those perfectly pink lips, hanging open ever so slightly. Your hand wandered upward, along her shoulder, and to the back of her neck. As the last verse of the song began, you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against her. Abby inhaled sharply, her fingers spreading on your back and pressing against your skin. You gently pressed your lips to hers again and this time, she kissed you back. You dug your fingertips into the back of her neck, desperately wanting to come closer, to pull her down to you, hell, you would climb her like a tree if you had to.

Feeling courageous, you stuck your tongue out and ran the tip upward over her lips. Abby instantly reacted, opening her mouth for you and greeting your tongue with hers. She tasted like wine and cacao, and faintly like thyme. Releasing your hand, she wrapped her arms around your waist. You reached up and buried your hand in her hair. She gasped into your mouth. You tucked that sound away for later, swearing to yourself you would make her do it again as often as you could.

A few seconds of silence between songs were disrupted by your wonderfully frivolous wet kissing sounds and a small whine that escaped you when Abby’s hand wandered lower to cup your ass. The first guitar chords of Nights In White Satin vibrated through the air and Abby grabbed you tightly before lifting you off the ground and wrapping your legs around her hips. She carried you over to the dining table and set you down.

The dramatic crescendo in the song you loved so much began.

And I love you

Yes I love you

Oh, how I love you

The singer’s voice filled every corner of the room, his declaration hovering above you, the high voices of the background singers ringing in your ears and Abby’s hands everywhere, her body leaning over you, her hips pressed between your legs. You flexed your legs to pull her in closer, almost falling apart when Abby let out a low moan and rocked her hips forward against you. Then she suddenly slowed down and broke the kiss.

“Wait, let’s talk for a second.”

You kept your legs clamped around her, but relaxed back a little, brushing back a strand of hair from her forehead and giving her an encouraging nod to go ahead.

“I haven’t… I’m not that experienced with - with women. And generally. And I don’t want to rush things and do something wrong and lose you. I don’t really know how this works and I want to do it right.”

Her hands on your waist tightened slightly. You gave her a shy smile.

“Me neither. I’m scared, too.” You surprised yourself with your openness. “How about we take this slow, then? Talk about everything openly? And just go one step at a time?”

Abby nodded and pulled you closer again.

Holding Back The Years began playing.

“One kiss at a time.” She gave you a gentle peck on the lips.

“Oh, really? I would have never picked you as the sappy type,” you laughed against her lips.

“You wouldn’t?” She acted shocked. “Let me remind you of how I took the day off to cook a gourmet french dish for you.”

“True.” You shrugged and pulled her in for another kiss. “It’s probably the muscles. With those guns, you can do anything and still be taken seriously.”

Abby snorted and you realized that had been the wine talking. For a second, you were mortified, then she scooped you up again, holding your body with one arm as she ran her free hand through your hair.

“Oh, those? You know, they’re specifically for carrying you around all day. Anything for my - princess.” You had very well noticed the little pause there, but you decided not to say anything yet. Instead, you lifted your chin and eyebrows, imitating what you thought a royal would look like.

“Well, what does that make you? You’re obviously not a prince. My lady knight?”

Abby nodded solemnly.

“Sworn to protect and defend you. And to carry you wherever.”

“Well, do you have a sofa you could carry me to?” You tightened your hold on her shoulders and leaned in closer again.

“Of course, my lady.”

Abby carried you through a doorway at the back of the dining room into a cozy living room, equipped with a large sofa and a gigantic flatscreen tv, two vintage armchairs, a wooden bookshelf with at least 100 books, and a desk facing the window, medical books spread across the surface. The blonde sat down on the sofa and you knelt left and right of her hips, straddling her as you gave her another soft kiss.

“You know,” you began, “I’ve been crushing on you for months now. I thought you had absolutely no interest in me. I didn’t even know you liked women.”

Abby’s eyes widened at your confession.

“Shit, I had no idea. You weren’t exactly forward, you know. The first time we met, you already had this pull on me. But you were so shy and I didn’t want to jump you or annoy you, so I tried to keep my distance and wait if you would come around.”

“You have Leah to thank for that. Me coming around. I kind of forgot to come out to her until karaoke night and she told me you were dating women as well. She knows I’ve been a hopeless case when it comes to you, but she wanted me to figure this out on my own.”

Abby thought about this for a second.

“Yeah, Leah probably only told you because she knew I liked you, too. I haven’t been that open about dating women in the past, just because talking about dating in general was weird with Owen and Mel around and I also just don’t like everyone knowing my personal business.”

“I get that.” You nodded. “As I said, I hadn’t even been out to Leah. Mostly because I haven’t dated anyone in forever and the last time was a disaster not worth talking about.” You winced at the memory.

“You wanna tell me anyway?”

You thought about it for a second, then you climbed off Abby’s lap and laid down on the sofa, resting your head on her thigh. Her fingers immediately began brushing through your hair and massaging your scalp.

“Well, I met this girl during a freshman party at a sorority house the weekend before my first semester in college,” you began. You had felt weirdly out of place, but were determined to speak to at least one person. A few hours and an almost-lethal amount of tequila later, the girl you had talked to all night had dragged you into one of the bedrooms. You both had no previous experience, were extremely drunk and it was already 5am. You had fun making out and were both eager to try more, but it had been more out of curiosity than desire for each other and so the experience had not ended in the expected bliss of lesbian sex. Rather, she had come pretty quickly and afterward she'd begun crying and told you she had a boyfriend, and you had gotten dressed and fled the house. After that, dating in college was not really something you thought about much.

Abby listened to your story with interest and sympathy, laughing at a few parts and stroking your hair as you told her about the end of that fateful night. She felt deeply sorry for your experience of strangeness and betrayal, immediately promising to you that she would always tell you what was going on inside her head and what she wanted.

“Like you just did,” you smiled at her. “That was brave. It’s what I should have done that night.”

“I mean, I had a few weird moments, too, before I learned to speak my mind.” Abby’s gaze unfocused and she frowned as she clearly recalled some not very pleasant memories.

“Wanna tell me, too?” you asked, keeping your voice light. She nodded, looking down at you again.

“I mean, there's Owen, obviously. That didn’t work out well and now he is with Mel, leaving me wondering if he was interested in her while we were still together. After we broke up, Nora and I went on a little bender.” Your heart jumped into your throat. Did Abby and Nora...? A wave of jealousy rose from the bottom of your stomach, but you forced yourself to keep your calm, smiling at Abby as she continued.

“We spent every weekend at a different bar, and one of them was actually at The Closet. Nora was making out with a woman in actual overalls” - she snorted - “and I just hung out at the bar, drinking Long Islands and not brave enough to make eye contact with anyone. And then the bartender started talking to me.”

Suddenly realization dawned on you. You sat up and stared at Abby.

“Wait, Ellie? The short-haired one?”

Abby grimaced.

“Yeah. We talked for a while and I came back the next week with Leah and Jordan. They didn’t even notice I was spending a lot of time at the bar. Ellie and I met for coffee a few days later and I mentioned my dad and she got really quiet and strange. Turns out, she’s related to the guy that murdered my dad, so...”

You were pretty sure your heart stopped for a moment, all the air in your chest building up pressure as you tried to figure out how to breathe out. Abby noticed and gently guided you to lay back down, continuing to weave her fingers into your hair.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’ll tell you the whole story another time. So yeah, Ellie and I. It was horrible, but we still stayed and talked for a while. She couldn’t tell me a lot about what happened, but she had no idea that I even existed and she was about to have a panic attack over it all. I helped her calm down and then she felt terrible for reacting so badly when it should be me panicking and I just told her that there’s nothing any of us can do now and we should probably leave it at that.” She sighed. “I hadn’t been to The Closet until a few days ago. I only came because I knew you’d be there.”

“Fuck, that’s terrible,” you mumbled. “I don’t think I could have gone back there. I’m still glad you did, though.”

“Me too,” Abby said, her voice gentle and honest. She leaned down to kiss you, deeply and passionately.

You stayed on the sofa for the next few hours, talking about school crushes and gay awakenings, about women constantly hitting on Abby and her being confused for a long time. She told you more about her relationship with Mel and you started to actually resent that woman. Who did she think she was? You told Abby about living with Leah and about your current research projects and she listened intently, asking a lot of questions about the art you were analyzing. You began diving into queer art and Sappho and your theory on the different languages of different social groups. Abby actually gave you some great new ideas and some good questions you couldn’t yet answer and you were actually beginning to look forward to writing tomorrow.

As the clock moved past midnight, it became clear you would have to leave at some point soon. Abby had to get up at 7 in the morning for a 10-hour shift, and you had stifled one too many yawns. You were cuddled up on the couch, kisses interchanging with long, deep conversations and more kisses.

“I can accompany you to the station,” Abby suggested as you looked up the departure times on your phone.

“You don’t have to. That’s sweet of you, but I’ll find the way.” You kissed her for her generosity, but she pulled back.

“Honestly. I don’t want you walking alone. I’ll go with you.” A sheepish smile appeared on her face and she did a tiny bow. “My lady.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, making your way to the entrance hall. Abby gently helped you into your coat and put on a black bomber jacket, a strange but hot combination with her fancy pants. She opened the door for you and you stepped out into the cold night together.

You held hands on the way to the station, stopping at every corner to make out, laughing together, and making plans for your lasagna night. You would come over on Thursday, promising to yourself you would finish all your coursework until then. Manny would come back on Friday, so you’d have the house to yourself again.

You arrived at the station way too soon, but your train was announced to arrive in two minutes. Heavy-hearted, you flung your arms around the tall blonde and she wrapped hers around your waist, lifting you up for another deep kiss.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” she whispered against your lips.

“I’ll even dress up next time,” you mumbled and she grinned at you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt. I’m excited.” Well, now you had to go shopping. Leah would be delighted to go with you.

You pressed a last kiss to Abby’s lips before unwrapping yourself from her arms as the train rolled into the station. As you stepped away, she caught your hand and pulled you back for another one, cheekily running her tongue over your bottom lip. You sighed and kissed her hand, wrapped firmly around yours, before stepping back and boarding the train. You waved at her through the window as you departed and watched her stand on the platform until she was out of sight.

Letting yourself fall into one of the seats, you pulled out your phone and texted your brother.

-We kissed!!!! Call me when you can

Then you texted Leah about shopping tomorrow, just able to send the text before your phone vibrated with a new message.

-You looked beautiful tonight. I’m the luckiest person in the world.

You tried to keep your squeal as quiet as possible. A woman a few seats ahead of you briefly looked up from her phone.

-Can’t believe I have a personal knight who will carry me wherever I want to go

The reply came in seconds.

-Anywhere and anything you want. Text me when you’re home!

-Can I text you before I’m home? I miss you already :(

You had to wait a few minutes before your phone vibrated again. This time, Abby was calling.

“Sorry, I was cleaning up and getting ready for bed.” She sounded a bit breathless.

“No worries,” you said. “What are you wearing for bed?”

Abby let out a surprised laugh.

“Really, now?”

“I’m serious. I want to imagine being with you.”

“Well, I’m wearing a gigantic black t-shirt with a ton of holes and boxers.”

You closed your eyes, envisioning Abby’s thighs straining against the hem of her shorts and the soft cotton of her shirt that you could bury your face in. She would smell like nature and like home somewhere far away.

“I wish I was there.” You noticed you were sounding desperate. Fucking hell, were you about to turn into a 13-year-old? You could hear the smile in Abby’s voice when she spoke.

“I wish you were here with me, too.” She paused for a moment. Then, “Do you want to sleep over on Thursday?”

“Uhm -” you had to think for a second, remembering you only had dinner plans for Friday with your mom. Before you could answer, Abby cut in again

“Fuck, am I rushing you? I didn’t mean - I just thought it would be nice, falling asleep together. But I totally get if that’s -”

“Abby! Of course I want to stay over!” You clenched your free hand into a fist, punching your thigh a few times in order to divert the explosion of energy inside your chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Abby’s shaky laugh was heart-wrenching. “I thought I messed up already.”

You stood up to exit at your station.

“No, not at all. I’d love to fall asleep with you.”

The way to your apartment was over faster than you wanted it to be.

“I’m home now. I think I should hang up, Leah is probably sleeping.”

“Yeah, don’t wake the monster.” Abby chuckled.

“Good night, Abby. Tonight was incredible.”

“Good night, Y/N. You’re incredible. Sleep tight.”

--

Author's note: Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! If you'd like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 13/?

Word Count: 3.2k

Author’s Note: Part 13? The unlucky part??? I’m evil

Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name ( your best friend’s name).

I don’t know when this will be posted because time is dumb! But I do think I’ll have something prepared for Jason’s birthday<3

Hope you’re all well!

Warnings: Swearing, Eludes to sex, Mentions of injuries, Mentions of underage drug use (Do Not Condone), Mentions of sexual assault, Eludes to trauma, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

The next morning, Jason and Y/N would wake up in the same bed. Y/N would get up and stumble her way into his ensuite, trying not to wake him as he was still injured. It had been 4 days since his injury, and he was hoping that the next day he’d get his stitches removed. She would grab the clothes she wore the day before and walk into the ensuite.

She would fumble with her makeup a bit, realizing it had run slightly from the night before. Before just realizing it would be a lot easier if she took it all off. She wasn’t wearing heavy makeup, but it was just enough to hide what she thought were imperfections.

She wasn’t wearing anything, so she just threw on all of her other clothes and threw her hair up.

When she exited the ensuite, he was still sleeping in the bed, but his clothes were strewn across the room. She paused her thoughts to clean up his clothes and put them in his laundry basket.

She touched her nose to test if it was still warm and painful, which brought all the pain to the forefront, and it was still warm to the touch, she knew it was inflamed from the head-butting incident and looking in the mirror.

She didn’t think it would hurt this much, and she winced at the pain.

Jason would start groaning in his sleep, she assumed it was because they didn’t close the blackout curtains before they had their fun the night before. So she went to go close them when he went and grabbed her thigh, she laughed quietly.

“Good morning, Jason,” she said as she closed the curtains before  leaning down to see his face, and what was obvious bedhead.

“Hi,” he whispered before pulling her back into his bed.

She laughed, “Sorry, baby. I had to get up and get dressed.”

“Lame,” he whispered and curled into her.

“Jay, you’re naked,” she said.

“Thank you Sherlock Holmes.”

“Oh shut it, you should get dressed,” she suggested.

“Yeah, I should,” he said as he left the bed, crawling over her and going to his dresser, thank God he didn’t have any IVs and blood bags anymore, so he could walk without having to drag those around anymore.

She didn’t stare at him, because he nose started pounding and she whimpered.

“You alright, Y/N?” Jason asked her.

“Yeah sorry, my nose is killing me.”

“Well that’s what happens when you head-butt someone.”

She laughed, “I’m sorry okay, I panicked.”

“That part’s obvious.”

“You could pretend to care that I’m hurt, Jay,” she joked.

He laughed as he put on his boxers and his pants, “I could, but I also think you were being reckless, I worry,” he searched for a shirt, “I worry that us being together is putting you in danger,” he said as he found a shirt.

“Well, I like the danger, if there is any.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a danger,” he put on his shirt and fumbled with his hair, “It’s obviously because you’re attached to Bruce, you heard that man ‘I wonder what Bruce will give me for you’ he knew we had money. You need your car back.”

“I can’t afford the fees,” she sighed.

“Bruce can pay them, you know.”

“God no, I would feel so bad, I’ll just take the subway or something.”

He sighed and went back to her, cupping her face, “Please let my dad pay the fees, it’s dangerous out there,” he leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, “I can’t stand that you got hurt linked to your shenanigans with me,” he kissed her.

“I guess it’s me being protective,” he said, “But I think it’s a reasonable thing to be concerned about, Y/N.”

“I’ll figure it out, I swear.”

“You figuring this out involved you head-butting your attacker, I get it was quick thinking, but my god woman, that was dangerous,” he said.

“You literally got stabbed protecting your best friend,” she argued.

“Okay, good point, but I’m prettier than you so I win,” he joked.

“What kind of fucking logic is that you bastard!” she joked.

“The kind of star-crossed lovers or something, I don’t know, I don’t write, you do.”

“I’ll sell our story to Warner Brothers, we’ll make millions off of us.”

“Two lovers, harassed by the press in the media, spend most of their time hiding and protecting themselves from the disgusting eyes of the media and the man who attacked one of them,” he said in a news broadcaster voice, “Amazing, isn’t it?” he joked.

“The kind of story Artemis said Dick would eat up.”

“Oh, he would. Man’s a sucker for a romantic story.”

“Well, maybe he can sell his and Barbara’s romantic story to the Warner Brothers, he’d probably make millions too, if it’s worth anything.”

“Well, they’ve known each other for years, and when they finally started dating, myself, Steph, Cass, Tim and Damien all celebrated to an extent, we all saw it coming from all those years of them knowing each other,” he paused, “They actually fought a lot when they were younger before they dated, it would be normal to hear Dick and Barbs going at it about how they hated each other.”

“That’s such a meet-cute stone-cold-woman meets goofy guy story that I hate it.”

He laughed, “They’re so gooey, it’s so cute that I want to vomit.”

“That’s valid. We should be cuter so that they want to vomit.”

“I like your thinking, Y/N.”

“You always do, I have good ideas, Jason.”

“Only sometimes.”

She laughed. It was true, someone with always good ideas wouldn’t have head-butted her attacker, but it’s not like she carried knives or guns around to defend herself. She was considering getting a conceal-carry permit, just because she truly was shaken up by the event.

But a little trauma makes for good stories, and her story with Jason was just starting.

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

Dick decided he’d drive her to her class that day, she didn’t think it mattered that much, her attack, but she realized that a lot of them didn’t want to see her hurt, even if they barely knew her.

She figured it was a kindness that they all possessed. She heard stories of the Waynes paying off waitress’/waiters’ student debts. She heard stories of the Waynes being polite to their ‘lower’ counterparts of the world. She knew they wer kind people, so she wasn’t shocked when Dick insisted he drive her to her class.

“So, Y/N, what are your intentions with my brother?” Dick joked.

“Oh no, not this, I haven’t prepared my answerers for this exam,” she retorted.

“No, its a pop quiz, you have no chance to prepare.”

“Fuck. Can I drop out of this class?”

“How would you even accomplish that?”

“Tuck and roll out of the car, probably,” she joked.

“You ever done that before?”

“Nope, you?”

“Did it on a dare, Jase dared me.”

“And he calls me reckless,” she laughed.

“Well, we were still in high school at the time, we’re supposed to be reckless,” Dick said.

“You ever met a college kid? We’re supposed to be reckless too.”

“He’ll get over it in time, Y/N. I promise. He just needs time to accept that you’re going to be as reckless and opinionated as he is, no one really refuses each other like you two do, and I’m sure you don’t mean it to be like that.”

“I think you’re reading too far into it, Dick, we make compromises.”

“Then why is your car still an issue? Bruce can cover the cost no questions asked.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“Maybe it’s something to think about.”

“Are you always this brotherly? I need to know what I’m getting into here.”

He laughed, “You really do keep out of the press, don’t you?”

She took that as a yes, he is that brotherly and would continue to be. She didn’t mind, she never had a brother growing up so this would take some time to get used to, but she did not mind at all. She just figured she’d have to keep her partying ways even further down in the depths of her secrets.

They didn’t need to know what she did and what was done to her, she even ignored those problems herself. If they came out, then so be it, but if she could keep them hidden, she would.

“What were you like back in high school?” Dick asked, trying to fill the silence.

“Probably not the type of person that your dad would want Jason to be with,” she admitted.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Honestly? I don’t want to talk about it. You’d probably have to get me hammered to talk to you about it.”

“Well, maybe one day you’ll go to a gala. And after you’re wasted, I’ll ask you about it.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“I’m sure you will, Dick. I’m sure you will.”

“Well, we’re here,” he said, “You have my number right?” 

“I do, I do.”

“Good, call me if you need me to come get you and take you home, or to the Manor. Either or, no questions asked,” he laughed, “I expect the same when you have your car back, to be fair.”

“Consider it a deal, thanks Dick.”

“Anytime, really.”

She closed the door and waved him off, but when he pulled out of the lot, the press was at Y/N’s ass. She ran though, she ran far to get out of there.

Class was the usual. She wrote her normal psychology notes, sitting in her class, concentrating as she scribbled down the notes that she struggled to read.

When she was done and getting read to call Dick to come get her, her old friends from Metropolis showed up at her school.

“Hey! Y/N!” Christopher yelled when he saw her leave her class.

“Oh my god?” she said before running to hug him, “What the fuck are you doing here, dude?” she questioned, before looking at the rest of the car and seeing Justine, Kaitlin and Thomas, “What the fuck are all  of you doing here?”

“C’mon party girl, we’re taking you to your pale, you get dressed, and we’re going out,” Justine urged Y/N to join them, “Just like old times, man.”

“Yeah! We haven’t partied in weeks since you got your scholarship! We know you’re busy and trying to discipline yourself, but we can go party every once in a while, girl!” Kaitlin added.

“You know we miss you too,” Thomas finished.

“Alright, I need no more convincing, let’s get going,” she said as she hopped into the car and they went going to her house. She thought on the drive there, What if I fall back into old habits, and I’m doing so well, what if I fall off?

She couldn’t have more thoughts because before she knew it, she was in her house sending Jason a quick text,

Hey baby, I can’t come over tonight. Old friends came by.

Oh. I hope you have fun, I’ll probably be with my brothers. how did you even get home?

They drove me. I promise I’ll be over tomorrow and you’ll have me all day and night long, though.

That. That is exciting.

It should be.

She got dressed.

And she sent Jason a photo of what she was wearing (like the picture above) just to get him going. Before running out of her place and hopping back into the car.

“You always dress to impress, don’t you?” Thomas asked.

“I dress like I know what I’m doing,” Y/N joked.

“Never change, Y/N, never change,” Justine joked back.

------------------------ 

She walked into the club she frequented back when she was in high school, but the Gotham one. She had a fake ID, and she used it well and was in the club before the rest of her group knew it.

Justine would grab her hand and take her to the bar, Fuck, she thought, Here we go. And they ordered drinks. 

The rest of the night was a blur of people, drinks and her friends.

She knew she overdid it from the minute she woke up, in her bed, feeling around for her phone in her messed up and torn up sheets. Het body was covered in bruises, she noticed between harsh blinks from the pouding headache she was nursing. She remembered why she didn’t party as hard anymore. She didn’t even know how she got home that night. She found her phone and turned it on, 8:00am it read. She checked her messages, adn there was Jason, at 7:00am he said;

Are you awake yet? 

To which, she replied: I am, why?

How drunk were you last night?

I think blackout. I don’t remember much. 

I can tell.

Tell me I didn’t do anything stupid.

You did something stupid.

What did I do?

You called me at 3am and told me you loved me, followed by saying you threw up at one of your friends. I don’t even know how you got home.

Well that’s not that bad.

You told me about your past.

Oh.

When were you going to tell me you’re a recovering alcoholic?

I don’t know.

Come here. Come over. We need to discuss this.

Alright, alright. I’ll be there soon.

Dick will come get you in an hour, actually. Don’t leave the house without him.

I won’t.

She got up and looked at the mirror at herself. She was covered in bruises, her makeup was smudged, her eyes looked sunken in and her hair was a mess. She sighed, knowing she fucked up, and wiped off her makeup and got in the shower. She quickly showered and put on a turtleneck and a pair of jeans.

It was to hide the bruises from Jason. She assumed someone had physically assaulted her, possibly sexually. She only had that thought once before she pushed it very far down and swallowed it. She went to go make coffee, but her head was racing at the ideas of last night and what she said.

She was fucked up and she did fuck up. She knew she shouldn’t have drank. but she did. And she knew Jason was either really pissed or really sympathetic. She was scared at how much she might have discussed when Dick honked his horn and she left the house.

In the car, Dick tried to break the silence, “You should have told someone, anyone. We’re all really good at listening, Y/N.”

She wiped away a few tears that were pooling.

“You didn’t need to hide from us, Y/N.”

“I do.”

“No, Y/N, you don’t. Jason’s probably more mad that you didn’t tell him over you actually being a recovering alcoholic. You called him last night and let it all spill out. Everyone knows, you don't need to hide anymore.”

“Of course I did,” she said, swallowing more tears and her voice breaking.

She wanted her past as an alcoholic to die when she moved out of the city, because she didn’t want everyone to know how broken she was, fighting with addiction. A lot of her anxieties and treatments of people make sense with her past addictions, but that doesn’t mean she liked them.

She hated that girl, the wild party child who almost drank herself to death, her body was just recovering fully from her escapades when she went out clubbing. She knew this was going to be an issue, but she didn’t know how to fix it.

He looked over at her and caught eye at one of her bruises that was peaking over her turtleneck. He tried to not stare, but she noticed.

“Don’t ask about it, Dick. I don’t know what happened.”

“I think you two will get through this.”

“I hope we do, but realistically,” she paused.

“Don’t think like that.”

They pulled into the driveway and the minute Dick unlocked her door, she was out of there, speed walking to the door and then to Jason’s room.

She opened the door to find him reading a book, she would have smiled at this, had she not been certain that they were about to fight.

“Jason?”

“Oh. You’re here.”

“Yeah, I just-” 

He cut her off and got up from his bed, looking ever-so disappointed in her as he walked to the door of his room. She expected the fight to take place in the hall, so she tried to step back when he grabbed her forearm with one of his hands and yanked her into his room. She assumed maybe, just maybe his room was soundproof so his family wouldn't have to hear the yelling. He closed the door once she was in and stared at her.

She gulped, expecting him to let loose on the argument now about her drinking and her confessing she was a recovering alcoholic, but instead, he pulled her into a hug, which she yelped at.

“Jason?” she said, shocked.

“Shh,” he broke from the hug and cupped her face, “It’s okay, really.”

“But I hid it from you...”

“You know, we’ve only known each other two weeks or something, right? I get you hiding it, I just wish it didn’t come out like that,” he laughed and kissed her quickly, “Besides-” he noticed the bruise on her neck, “What’s that?” he asked, grabbing her hand and clutching it.

“There’s...”

“There’s more?” he asked.

“What, I mean, uh... uh... no?” she stuttered.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Jason...”

“Or tell me the truth.”

“Baby-”

“So there’s more, who hurt you? Did you fall?” he asked, getting a little bit heated, really squeezing her hand.

“I don’t know.”

He cupped her face, “That’s okay,” he leant his forehead against hers, “It’s okay, I promise, I do. I just really don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t try to,” she said.

“Seems like trouble likes to follow you,” he said.

“Well, you found your way to me so I’d have to agree,” she joked.

“Ha ha. How’s your nose?” he said as he broke contact with her to go sit on his bed, she followed.

“It still hurts, but I can’t tell if that’s from last night or from my shenanigans with the attacker.”

“It could honestly be a combination of both, depending on what happened to you, have you asked your friends for the full story yet?”

“No. I’ve been scared to.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“I’m going to. Right now.”

“I support your decision on that,” he said as he turned on the TV in his room, but then Y/N paused.

“Y/N?”

“Reports are in of a group of friends, who all got arrested last night, for bodily harm of a man who attempted to rape their friend, Police say., the suspects in the attack are Christopher Green, Justine Wong, Kaitlin Benoit and Thomas Harthrew. More to be coming soon.”

“Thank god that girl had those friends.”

She turned to Jason, “So,” she paused, “I’m glad you think that, because, those are my friends.”

[catgrump]

Hiiii!!!! Would you be able to maybe write 👉👈 "tell me about yourself" for Sonia and Gundham? Maybe something that happens while the killing game is happening?

(Looks at my pile of requests)

(Sees Sondham)

Yeah fine lol

Y’all keep asking for my favorite ships while I’m anxiously waiting to release my new prompt list lmao stop that /hj

So uh this is actually College AU SORRY I had a much stronger idea for that

Ibuki is also here as Gundham’s sister cuz Gundham & Ibuki siblings make me go brrrrr

🌻🌻🌻

“You truly believe these photographs truly encompass my being?” Gundham asked, furrowing his brow at his phone’s screen

“Absotutely posalutely!” His sister Ibuki declared, clinging her chipped nail polish hands onto his shoulders, “Especially the one of you with the Devas; people are gonna go NUTS over that.”

“Hm,” Gundham pondered Ibuki’s choice in photos, but he has no experience with this sort of thing, so he trusts her judgement, “Now I am required to write a biography?”

“Yeah! Tell people about yourself so you can attract people who’d like you,” Ibuki explained, peering over his shoulder

“Do you have any suggestions?” He asked, his thumbs frozen in place, hovering above the screen

“Maybe like... hmmm,” Ibuki hummed as she thought, but then realized something, “Well hold on. Ibuki doesn’t know what you’re looking for here, my guy.”

“What I’m looking for?” Gundham needed clarification

“Well in Ibuki’s experience, bios for people who just want to hook up are REALLY different than bios of people who are looking for something more.”

“Ah, I see. I believe I would prefer a more substantial relationship.”

“Okay, so you should say in the bio you’re looking for that kind of commitment,” Ibuki chirped

Gundham started typing:

I seek a mortal brave enough to attempt to become my dark consort

“Oooh fun!” Ibuki encouraged him

“Do I need to declare any more?”

“Yeah yeah tell people what kind of stuff you like!”

He typed some more:

My Four Dark Devas of Destruction (featured in the third photograph) shall determine whether or not you are a worthy partner. Our courtship will not continue if they judge you unfavorably. This is not personal.

“Uh huh uh huh uh huh,” Ibuki enthusiastically nodded her head in approval

“I should specify that I have no preference for gender, I presume?”

“Yeah definitely!”

Bisexual

“If there’s nothing else you can think of, I think this is a good place to start,” Ibuki clapped her hands together in excitement

“Fantastic.”

“Now comes the fun part,” Ibuki leaned on her brother, resting her head on his shoulder as they got comfortable on his couch, “Swiping! Sometimes Ibuki just lays in bed for HOURS swiping for no reason.”

“Left is for those I do not wish to court, correct?”

“Yeah yeah and right is for people you’re interested in!”

Gundham and Ibuki spent a couple minutes reading profiles and swiping left on countless people who were obviously not good enough for Gundham— at least, that’s how Ibuki put it.

And then... they found her.

“Wait wait wait stop!!” Gundham’s eyes widened as his thumb froze over the phone, ceasing the swiping auto-pilot as Ibuki got his attention, “Look at HER!”

On screen was a photo of a beautiful blonde girl with piercing blue eyes, a dark plum lipstick adorning her pale face, backdropped by a wall of preserved flowers and sheer black curtains

Her profile read:

Sonia, 21

(She/Her, Bi) Come perform sacrifices under the full moon with me

Just kidding ... unless...

Gundham scrolled through the rest of her photos. She’s too good to be true. There’s a photo of her looking up from a book in a coffee shop with an adorable smile. There’s a selfie where a rose quartz pendant shines between her collarbones. She has high quality photos of her posing with friends in a field of wheat. She’s gorgeous.

“Gundham, if you don’t swipe right I don’t know who you are anymore,” Ibuki told him

So he did just that.

And his heart quickened its beat when the screen suddenly changed.

It’s a match!

“Oh my gawd, Gundham YES you gotta send her a message!” Ibuki giddily encouraged him

“What would I tell her?”

“That she’s really pretty and you want to get to know her or something!”

His phone vibrated in his palm. She messaged first.

“You are the most interesting person I have seen on tinder... probably ever! Tell me about yourself!”

“Good gods; what do I say?”

“Dude literally just talk about yourself.”

“You do not understand how difficult that is, Ibuki.”

“Okay, then ask her what she wants to know,” Ibuki suggested

“I thank you for your kind words. What do you wish to know?”

“Tell me about your Four Dark Devas of Destruction 🖤 They seem like perfect companions”

“Okay; she’s passing Ibuki’s tests so far,” Ibuki muttered, not even trying to hide that she was reading over his shoulder

“Yes, my Devas are simply bound to the bodies of what foolish mortals call ‘hamsters’, as their true forms can not be contained on this plane. They are loyal minions, and you are correct, worthy companions.”

And then he quickly added

“You appear to be as intelligent as you are beautiful. I admire it.”

Gundham felt his face heat up and his sister smacked his shoulder and gasped. “Look at you! Smooth as ice!”

“I am simply making an observation,” he attempted to defend himself

His phone vibrated again, and he quickly checked to see Sonia’s newest message

“Aw thank you 🖤 I know we have not been communicating for very long, but I sense the same about you. I can feel it in my guts!”

“Oh, she’s divine,” he whispered, clutching his hand to his mouth in awe

“Gundham, you’ve had tinder for less than a day and Ibuki thinks you’ve met the girl of your dreams. It’s like a tinder speedrun!” Ibuki laughed and then gasped, “Give her your number! Do it do it do it do it do it!”

And then his phone vibrated once more.

“I do not normally move this quickly to communicate off tinder, but I receive messages faster this way, and I must learn more about you: the fascinating and handsome man with his own minions 🖤”

She gave him her phone number.

If you enjoy my writing, you can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi if you’re able! 💛 Fics will always be free; this is just an additional way to support me.

[chrolloctrl]

hello～! can i request for Adultrio who fell in love with fem crime hunter Reader? also have a nice day/evening💘

thank you for the request! i tried my best to make all of these different from each other, but i also tried to stay true to how the characters would sincerely react:) oh and sorry for the late post, school’s been tough :( but yknow it be like that

note(s)/warning(s): some mentions of blood and violence, but other than that nothing you wouldn’t see on hxh though

fandom(s)/character(s): hunter x hunter, adultrio, aka illumi, hisoka, and chrollo

for dialogue purposes, italics are you, and bold is the character :)

i l l u m i

since you’re a crime hunter and he is a literal trained assassin, the relationship is pretty much seemingly doomed for failure

however i imagine that you guys meet in an a very unexpected way

he’s on a mission to kill someone who had stolen from the zoldycks, and you’re on a mission to take out a thief

yeah it’s the same guy you got it

illumi gets there first and gets the job done

much to your dismay

you’re standing right behind him as he’s covered in blood over the body

all you say is “since when does the assassin do something morally correct?”

“when it benefits him.” he responds.

i think he recognizes you before you recognize him

“you’re y/n, right? crime hunter?”

“you could say that.”

“we aren’t so different you know..”

“we are incredibly different. i don’t kill for sport.”

“you still kill, though.”

you’re so pissed off because he kind of has a point

oh and that emotionless stupid little face of his pisses you off even more

it’s all love we know i love illumi

illumi’s bloodlust is out of control at this point, your interaction with him just increased that

“what are you going to do? kill me?”

“no. it doesn’t benefit me now does it?”

“what do you want from me illumi?”

“ a deal.”

somehow he ropes you into helping him on missions as long as it corresponds with your own morals

i think the moment he realizes he’s in love with you is when you explain morality to him

like obviously he has no idea wtf good morals are lmao

you act as his therapist in a way, comforting him about his past and telling him that his bad actions don’t make him a bad person, just a person who used to do bad things

sorry guys i love soft illumi, and i genuinely think he has the capability to be good

one day he breaks down after a mission, and he is so embarrassed that you’re the first person he shows his deep, buried emotions to

you just hold him and comfort him, telling him its not his fault

after that he doesn’t want to talk to you because he’s embarrassed

“i think emotions make you a better assassin.”

“how does that make sense?”

“makes you think twice.”

and now he knows why killua loves gon so much.

h i s o k a

we already know this bitch is obsessed with you

probably keeps tabs on you to see what you’re up to

every headline involving you “taking down another lowlife” catches his attention so fast

he wants a fight so bad

so he creates a plan

commit a crime so terribly that they HAVE to send you to take him out

just another amazing idea from hisoka!

so he figures out who you’re working for, and kills someone close to them, obviously leaving behind a trace so they have somewhat of an idea as to who he is, but still making it a hunt

he probably leaves a star and tear behind, something that only those who knew him would recognize

and so he watches you hunt him while he hunts you

you’re asking anyone and everyone if they recognize the star and tear, most people either having no clue, or recognizing it but keeping quiet about it in fear of what hisoka would do

eventually, someone says they know a person who draws a star and tear on their face — hisoka morrow

once hisoka hears that you know his name he is absolutely ecstatic, he probably reveals himself to you right after

“it has been so fun watching you search for me.”

“if you knew i was looking, why be a coward and hide?”

“there’s no fun if there’s no chase, darling.”

you guys battle it out, i imagine the fight is very close, but evidently you just can’t keep up with him

“you put up a beautiful fight…hmm, perhaps i’ll let you survive if you join me?”

out of breath and on the brink of death, he assumes you’re saying no

right as he goes for the finishing blow, you hold your hands up, and whisper through a mouth full of blood a small “i’ll do it.”

he has a huge grin on his face, so excited to have successfully “corrupted” you

sorry y’all added a little corruption kink in their my b

once he takes you to machi so she can heal you, you both go on ur little killing ppl missions together cos what else does hisoka do lol

he realizes he’s in love once you finish someone off, a crazed look in your eyes, smile on display, covered in blood.

“you’ve never looked as beautiful as you do now.”

you and hisoka’s love is weird. but it’s intense, and it is real. just not...normal.

you guys are crazy killers, but it works

he probably draws a star and tear on you just so u guys can match

after u.. murder people <3

yandere reader vibes sorry

c h r o l l o

for this, we are going to assume that you are the “weakest” link of the crime hunter agency

so they make you the bait

sorry i just want to cover all of our bases

you definitely have a lot of potential, you are just incredibly clumsy, and taking down the phantom troupe is something that requires plenty of people on the job

chrollo already knows you’re a crime hunter when he “runs into you” at a bar, as well as the fact that you aren’t working alone

but he entertains you, just because he’s bored lol

i can already picture you being caught off guard by how handsome chrollo is, because honestly im sorry who wouldn’t be

you kind of even forget you’re there on a job

but, when chrollo asks if you know about nen and what type of nen you use, you quickly remember why you’re there

you smile, “yes, i’m a specialist.”

he asks you to show him, but you decline

“i will lose it if i do.”

chrollo smirks, “smart girl.”

with that, you feel a sharp pain on the side closest to chrollo, and everything goes dark as you tumble into his arms

once you wake up, all the spiders surround you, chrollo in the center

“caught in the web.” you say, as chrollo’s eyes lighten up.

“precisely.”

“is there any way to escape a spider’s web?”

“prove to be worthy.”

there he went again, begging to see your nen so he could steal it

but just because you were thought to be the weakest link, didn’t mean it was true

“i mean, you’re looking at it right now.”

the troupe stares in confusion, and before chrollo can respond, one of the spiders falls to the ground, beheaded. (i can’t pick who so just pretend its ur least favorite <3)

the spiders stand there in shock

there were two of you.

the real you, free and unbounded, makes the clone disappear

“you said you were a specialist, but this seems to be a conjurer technique?”

“the speciality is that you can’t steal it. it isn’t exactly nen.”

this is the first time someone’s caught chrollo off guard, he has no idea what to do, i mean how did he know that this you wasn't a clone?

“now, i’ve heard once a leg is missing, there needs to be a replacement. what does the head think?”

you weren’t just a crime hunter, you were a double agent who wanted in on the phantom troupe

the moment chrollo realized your abilities weren’t nen, i think that’s when he fell in love

hear me out

he knows he’s going to be indebted to you forever

and we all know those books he reads...mf is a hopeless romantic who if in love, pretty much is absolutely obsessed

and boy is he obsessed already

of course, he is unable to steal it from you which is quite a drag

but, with you there, and your undiscovered abilities, the phantom troupe was basically unbeatable

something he wanted so badly

“welcome to the troupe number ___.” (once again i can’t decide who LOL you guys can pick)

you protect him and he protects you. 

if any of the troupe questions you and your decisions, he defends you so fast

eventually the troupe is referred to as “a spider with two heads”

kinda cute, kinda funky fresh name for thieves and murderers<3 at least u guys r passionately in love <3 

i hope this was good!! im kind of rusty so sorry :( im finishing up some other requests, and im thinking of crossposting a fic on here and on ao3, inspired by my dr strange/hxh hcs :) but requests are still open! guidelines right here  (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ thank you to everyone who shows love to my posts!

[stellacaerulea]

Miraland After Dark

In this post, I will write a few canon-compliant headcanons the game cannot get into for rating reasons.

Given its nature, beware of potentially triggering and spoilery (no pictures) content.

Under the cut.

The Nations

Ninir

The nation's obsession with beauty makes it so that cases like Ashley's are ridiculously common. So while the canon says orphanages are overcrowded with abandoned "defective" children (Sweet Dreams Lullaby), it's not hard to infer that quite a number of people don't even get that far in life - Ashley's fire itself was canonically a case of attempted suicide (v2c3), so it stands to reason she was far from the first, let alone the last.

While as a mostly artistic nation Ninir probably has recreative drugs legalized, the indiscriminate use of controlled medicine like appetite inhibitors, strong antidepressants and anaesthetics is probably a widespread health issue.

Even though Ninir highly values beauty, Lolory's story states that even being the Starheaven Swan is not enough for a person to make an easy living (v1c6, Daisy's Diary). While she made it big as a model, a substantial number of people is likely to have to resort to prostitution...

... Which is probably very popular for both locals and tourists because of Ninir's adoration for beauty. Likewise, most workers in Miraland's equivalent of OF is probably from there.

Other people are probably not even that lucky - Ninir is likely to be a hub for human trafficking, both importing and exporting slaves from other nations for all sort of work. Most exportees are "ugly" people who would have trouble finding a job anywhere in Ninir and are lured in by a too-good-to-be-true work agency and sent elsewhere to do menial work, while most importees are beautiful young people - particularly girls - sent from other nations to fuel Ninir's entertainment underworld.

Ruin

The little we unfortunately know about Ruin's society states that there is some sort of caste system between artificial lifeforms and humans (Into the Ruins). While it's obvious, considering the machines have some sort of sentience, it's still unfortunate.

This same caste system has Caprico expelled once he replaces one of his legs with a prosthetic. While transhumanism irl is a source for immense debate, their society's reaction to it leads us to believe that Ruin is just a high-tech version of fundamentalist Pigeon.

The isolation of Ruin in an industrial archipelago the other side of the planet makes it hard to reach anything coming from the mainland, like food and people. This way, cultural exchange rests at an absolute minimum, with Ruin people being seen as weirdos by the mainland and people from the mainland seen as stupid savages by Ruin.

A common issue among real life developers and engineers is burnout due to stress. In a society that concentrates most of the electronics development in Miraland, most of the nation would be in dire need of therapy.

Said absurd levels of stress coupled with Ruin's natural dependency on robotics and electronics makes digital entertainment extremely popular, further isolating the individuals from each other...

... Which leads to a severe drop on natality rates within Ruin borders. Most people prefer to spend time on games or, in case more physical pleasures are required, purpose-made machinery, which, they believe, saves them the stress of maintaining a relationship.

As a result, most young people in Ruin Island are the rare immigrants or, more rarely, tourists looking for shiny neon lights.

Wasteland

For being one of the most sparsely populated regions in Miraland, Wasteland is probably heavily exploited for its natural resources, that are rare elsewhere in the world.

The more traditionally tribal ways of the several ethnicities in Wasteland are constantly seen by the other people in Miraland as primitive and barbaric, despite the probable modern levels of technology within its general society. As such, Wastelanders are a constant target of prejudice by the rest of Miraland even within Wasteland borders.

As an effect of it, the poorer regions of the nation - especially those in the desertic mountains bordering Apple Federation - have colossal criminal rates.

One of the more common crimes in such regions is drug trafficking - Wasteland's vast nature provides several different plant and funghi-based drugs popular both internally for ritual purposes and externally for recreative purposes, especially in Ninir, and the mountainous region makes it hard to track smugglers and their stashes.

Another extremely common crime would be forced sex work - as mentioned previously, Wastelanders are probably seen as barbaric people inferior to the "civilized" nations northeast of it, so Wasteland girls are seen as little more than an exotic delicacy by some people. And as such, there are quite a few people, both in and out of Wasteland, willing to make money out of it.

Pigeon

It's already known that Pigeon is a theocracy ruled by the light elves, that see themselves as the race closest to God. We also know they see themselves as higher than both humans and the other elven races (Elves' Elegy and too many other reflections to count). With that said, it's highly likely that crimes are judged differently between elves and humans in some sort of apartheid style.

Not a long time ago, Pigeon government - read: the clergy - was strictly against technology, going as far as to sabotage a power generator made by their own queen (Past and Beyond). While Pigeon capital seems to have modernised to modern standards ever since, there probably are very influent anti-tech parties in positions of power, actively preventing smaller cities from evolving and isolating them from the rest of Miraland.

Pigeon is probably one of the nations with the oldest population in Miraland, if not the oldest. Not because of the natality rate, which is probably high due to religious views on birth control, but because the heavy moral restrictions have most young people flee to the neighbouring Apple Federation as soon as they can.

A very recurrent issue within Pigeon are half-elves. Elves see human people as inferior and as such, little more than toys to have fun with. Coupled with the aforementioned lack of control measures, several unwanted pregnancies are expected, which cannot be legally interrupted. The resulting rare - but visibly growing - population of half- and quarter-elves are seem as undesirable by both humans and full-blooded elves and cast to low positions in Pigeon society (Song of Snow).

Cloud

While Cloud society as a whole is mostly pacific with more uniformly spiritual ways, things get a bit more chaotic in the individual level. For example, we already know for a fact that some people sell their children for workplaces (mm3). Given the more traditional way of Cloud culture, it's not much of a stretch to believe child labour is somewhat commonly used in factories and large workshops, besides theaters.

The pacific and orderly style of the Cloudian society strongly favours opioids instead of hallucinogens, which makes it one of the main black market exports from the nation.

The existence of mafia-like hubs both in Azureink (Midnight Impressions) and Cloud Capital (v2c4-5) makes us believe that organized crime is a common issue in Cloud, especially in the northern regions, where the proximity with the North Kingdom facilitates access to weaponry.

North

Speaking of North, from the get go we have the statement that child soldiers are far from unheard of (Mercenary Queen).

While North is even more sparsely populated than Wasteland, not only is the region a very literal icy wasteland, but the constant conflicts between the several warlords that control the territories that compose the nation makes it extremely difficult to invest on anything other than war industries - and even that is too much of a risk for most investors, which makes it so that most of the workforce (including children) is employed as farmers or soldiers.

The politically unstable nature of the region makes freedom of speech and information nearly a legend. Every warlord that comes to rule a certain region implants their own mis/information network to make sure rival warlords or the people don't pose a challenge to their rule.

Apple

As we already know, Rosset is a modern transportation hub built inside a dome and over a depleted mine, which houses the slums (v1c5), which reveals two facts. The first of it is the economic inequality in the city, that is harsh enough to drive people into living in an abandoned mine underground.

The second issue is the dome itself - it was made to prevent the pollution of the city industries to reach the rest of the planet, which leads us to believe that industrial activity in Apple is such a major source of environmental damage that physically isolating the pollution sounded like a good idea.

While larger cities like Lodden seem like developed places with low criminality, most worldwide criminal organizations are run from its several penthouses. From there, drugs are dealt, people are smuggled and wars are declared anywhere else in the continent.

Speaking of drugs, the several different people that compose Apple's society make a variety of drugs have common use, although synthetic stimulants are more used both to help cope with the common workplace stress and as "extra inspiration" for artblocked designers.

Meanwhile, several "model agencies" are little but fronts for human trafficking, both receiving and sending pretty people to sell their bodies elsewhere. Apple's main "commercial partner" in this business is, obviously, the neighbouring Ninir, but occasionally girls are brought in from Cloud and Wasteland to serve in Apple's brothels.

A decent amount of Apple's riches come not from the treasures left behind by Pigeon during the independence, but from wars financed in the North Kingdom, where warlords are financed to conquer natural resources, especially the mineral reserves that fuel Apple's advanced industry.

[be-not-afeared]

Black Sails fic recs

Working titles: 12 fics for christmas? 12 days of ficmas? 12 fics none of which actually have anything to do with christmas?

OKAY, so I love nothing more than a fic rec post, and I’ve seen a few Black Sails rec posts floating around but they mostly seem to be a couple of years old and they all recommend a similar bunch of fics (and deservedly so! they are all amazing!). But I thought I would make one to highlight some newer or less shouted-about fics, because I may have only been here for a couple of months but jfc there is so much talent in this fandom and more of it deserves to be hyped. 

So, here are 12 of my favourite fics for the 12 days of christmas! (i.e. an excuse to put an arbitrary number cap on the list or we’d be here all day)

The majority of these are Silver/Flint and the ones that aren’t still all feature Silver prominently because that boy owns my soul, sorry for who I am as a person.

we should rip it straight out by minormendings

45K (Silver/Madi, Silver/Flint, Flint/Thomas)

Madi has always wondered if Silver understands what is between him and Flint as well as she. To her, it has always been obvious, from the way the two of them had fit together, had worried about each other, had acted as one. She had tried to bring it up with Silver back when they were together. But Silver had shaken her off, too enmired in the idea that he or Flint would prove each other’s downfall. Or perhaps just unwilling to open his eyes to the fact that he had loved Flint.

It was, unfortunately for the both of them, even more obvious after the thing between them had broken. Just as Silver had thrown away the war out of love for her, Flint had let Silver take away the war rather than kill him.

God. What a group the three of them were, showing love by betrayal.

Post-canon. Madi and Flint find their way back to Silver.

This fic diverges from canon right at the end of the 4x10; Silver has Flint held in a cell in Port Royal and Thomas delivered to him rather than taking him straight to the plantation. It is a BEAUTIFUL character study of how Flint and Madi could both come to forgive Silver, and has a great FlintMadi dynamic too. It also centres Madi’s struggle between wanting to provide for her people and wanting to experience the freedom of piracy, and fleshes out Julius’ character in a way the show never did. 

we can lose and call it living by I_wouldnt_be_one_of_them

31K (Silver/Flint/Thomas, Silver/Flint, Flint/Thomas)

It's been twelve years since everything fell apart, and John Silver is settled in New England. He has a nice house and a job he likes, and he's gotten used to the loneliness. It's a good life, he thinks, but of course that's cast into doubt when James Flint and Thomas Hamilton show up to find closure and, apparently, to see whether he's happy.

This is an inverse of the ‘silver arrives on flint and thomas’ doorstep’ trope and has Flint and Thomas instead being the ones to interrupt Silver, who is living a sad and lonely existence post-series. I love the ThomasSilver dynamic here. And this Silver feels so true to canon he makes me want to WEEP.

Tell me we're dead and I'll love you even more by Craftnarok

21K (Silver/Flint)

In the year 1725, or thereabouts, John Silver finds himself driven by a storm into an inconsequential little port town, barely a speck on any civilised map. Returned to the life of a drifter, tired and rough around the edges, he is resigned to waiting for the weather to pass before he can sail on again to the next town, and the next, and the next. That is until he overhears a conversation in the inn about a local fisherman, one Captain Barlow, and his tall tales of tempests and becalmings, devils and sharks, and Silver finds a new future opening up to him, haunted by the spectres of his past.

All of Craftnarok’s fics are amazing but I am particularly drawn to this one; it’s set 10 years post-series and is a delightfully angsty exploration of how Flint and Silver could find their way back to each other in a scenario in which Thomas wasn’t at the plantation. It doesn’t let Silver off easy and I love that.

armed with the past and the will by whimsicalimages

3K (Silver/Madi, Madi & Julius)

The language of winning and losing, this language that men favor – Madi can speak this language, though she disagrees with its precepts. Success takes different forms, and failing once does not mean failing forever. It does not even mean failing the next time.

Post-series, Julius teaches Madi how to fight. This fic is BEAUTIFUL - give me anything that centres Madi post-canon - and it explores Madi’s relationship with both Julius and Silver so well in so few words. 

Always In Season by mycapeisplaid

60K (Silver/Flint, past Flint/Thomas, past Silver/Madi)

Towering sand dunes, crystal-clear water, miles of forest, vineyards, orchards, and very spotty cellular service -- John Silver finds himself in a part of the state he's never been before and decides to take on seasonal work. Meanwhile, back from his yearly wintering in Florida, James Flint thinks that perhaps he'll take on a new business venture, even though it means he might have to interact with people other than his two close friends. Their summer employment fosters a friendship that could become something more. Like construction season in Michigan, the two must navigate through their own obstacles in order to seek an alternative route toward happiness.

This is an AU and so much fun!! Silver finds himself in Michigan and takes on some seasonal work at Guthrie Dunes. The whole cast features and the setting just WORKS SO WELL. And this Flint feels brilliantly in character despite the difference in setting.

to make a life by gone_girl

53K (Max/Anne, Max & Silver)

“What am I going to do with your name?” Max asks, a little incredulous.

“Whatever you want,” the salesman says. “Didn’t you want something real?”

Max heard a story once about the importance of answering questions like that carefully. If something emerges from the forest and asks for your name, don’t give it up, the story went. Offer only what you know you can live without. She’s never heard a story that tells her what to do when something emerges from the forest and offers its name to you.

I literally only finished this this morning but holy shit this fic is amazing, it’s a Max-centric AU set in Missouri the early 00s and it’s all about found family and building community and platonic love and it has a brilliant SilverMadi dynamic. And there just aren’t enough fics out there that focus on Max & Silver!! 

the straight walk home by vowelinthug

73K (Silver/Flint)

Let me tell you a story, about a vaquero named Vasquez…

Obviously vowelinthug’s fics are recc’d all the time and rightly so as they are AMAZING, but one that I don’t see featured as often as the more prominent ones is this incredible Western!AU. It’s 73K guys!! It adapts the canon narrative into the Western setting SO well!! It has background Vane/Billy which I was not at all sure about going in but just WORKS!! Go read it.

The Truth about Eros by Aisalynn

21K (Silver/Flint, Silver/Madi, Flint/Thomas)

Silver understood one thing very well.

Being Fated did not mean you were safe.

It did not mean you were loved.

This one is hot off the press! I am not normally a fan of soulmate AUs but this is such an interesting take on the trope, and the world building fits around the polyamory theme of the show really effectively! And it is SO well written.

With Nothing on My Tongue by RosieTwiggs

13K (Silver/Flint, Silver/Madi)

"Silver thinks: Maybe God likes it when I fight with him.

He wonders now, whether he’s been playing into God’s plan all along. Because no matter how angry he gets, how defensive, how many “fuck you”s he flings to the heaven, isn’t it all just proof that he still believes God is there, despite it all?

Silver doesn’t know how to counter that.

Maybe he doesn’t want to anymore."

An incredibly well written (and angsty! read the tags!) Jewish!Silver character study. This one has really stayed with me.

Maybe in Another Life by samedifference61

31K (Silver/Flint/Madi, Flint/Madi, Silver/Flint, Silver/Madi)

At the rail of a ship James doesn’t command, they stand shoulder to shoulder.

“John still thinks you’re dead,” James states, because it’s something that needs to be said aloud before they continue.

With eyes unblinking toward the rolling sea, Madi says, “And he still thinks you should be dead.”

James’ lip curls in anger. The wounds of betrayal are too fresh for either to say anymore.

Canon-divergent from 4x09, this is a brilliant MadiFlint centric fic exploring their relationship post Silver’s betrayal, and how he could find his way back to them both whilst acknowledging the weight of his actions.

in a vault of starlight by whimsicalimages

7K (Silver/Madi/Flint/Thomas)

The distance between Nassau and Savannah can be measured as: six hundred and thirteen nautical miles, five thousand pounds’ worth of pearls, or four extraordinary lifetimes.

Alternatively: in the aftermath, Madi writes her own story.

There aren’t enough Madi centric fics out there! This one is a lovely extension of canon with a great MadiSilver dynamic in particular.

the aftershocks remain by pdameron

31K (Silver & Miranda, Silver/Flint)

For as long as he can remember, John Silver has been able to see ghosts. He has no trouble keeping this secret from Flint - until Charlestown. Until Miranda.

Again all of pdameron’s fics are brilliant but I loooove this SilverMiranda centric one, plus who doesn’t love a ghost!au.

[stygiantarot]

Unusual Divination Methods

A long ass list of methods of divination, just in case you’re curious ~~~~~~

Divination is the method of discerning answers beyond a direct interaction. It can be used for foreseeing future outcomes or problems, but that isn’t inherent. It can also be used to commune with entities like deities or spirits, or even for delving deeper into the self (like shadow work).

There are many forms of divination. So many. There are even many forms of what would be considered “unusual” beyond the more commonly practices like cartomancy, runes, or stichomancy. Today I shall be focusing on ones I’m familiar with so I can better elaborate and answer questions.

The methods I will be exploring today:


Aleuromancy: divination using flour (or a flour substitute!)


Catoptromancy: a form of scrying using a mirror (my method uses a cast iron pan actually!)


Osteomancy: divination using bones

~~~~~~

Aleuromancy

A form of divination using flour that’s mentioned in some Mesopotamian cunefiorms, as well as being practiced in Greece and Rome. There are a couple ways this can be done. Firstly is when you pour out the dry flour and look at the way it falls into a bowl or on a plate or surface. Much like tea leaf reading (tasseography), you seek out shapes in the flour and interpret based on that. Another variation is doing the same but after you’ve mixed the flour with the liquids you’re baking with and kneaded it/mixed it and then taken it away to be baked. You examine the remaining streaks of wet dough on your surfaces for shapes and patterns.

The third method is to actually put slips of paper into the items you’re baking to be taken at random and broken open to answers questions after they’re cooked (akin to fortune cookies). This can be a tricky process depending on what sort of paper or ink you’ve used (speaking from experience :-X). The historical Greek version of this used excerpts of famous philosophy and mixed the balls of doughs nine times (a significant number in Ancient Greece)

It can take a lot of patience to try and find shapes and patterns in flour and admittedly it’s much easier with tea leaves. No wonder that became the standard. Don’t get disheartened if it isn’t something you have success with. You might have more fun and results experimenting with the baking slips of paper into dough methods. Great for ritual cookies!

The kind of divining using this method is very simple, more “omen-like” than detailed q&as like in Tarot or runes. Expect to see simple images that may give insight to something coming your way (a boat or bird showing a trip) or warn of a specific type of trouble that may be on the horizon (a money sign showing finances) rather than getting a formulated question clearly answered. However, you can dabble in that methodology when using the slips of paper instead. That way is more akin to stichomancy where you get a general idea or snapshot of the emotion or proverb-like metaphor to your question.

The type of flour can be tailored to help “fine tune” the reading as well- much like a certain flavor or tea or a certain deck of cards. Keep in mind that all types of grains/flours have a baseline association with prosperity and material gain/finances so this method of divination is especially good for those type of questions!



Flour Correspondences:


Acorn: An uncommon one in stores of course, but has deep wildcrafting results if you have the time and patience to grind some yourself. Associated with protection, health, money, healing, potency, fertility, luck, wealth, wisdom, and personal power.


Almond: creativity, luck, wisdom, spiritual understanding, nostalgia

Buckwheat: Money, protection, dreams and sleep


Flaxseed: health, finances, prosperity, beauty, psychic powers

Oat: family, home, hearth, money

Potato: protection, banishing, soothing/healing


Rice: prosperity, career/job, travel, romantic relationships/sex

Wheat: general prosperity, rebirth/renewal, solar energy

~~~~~~

Catoptromancy

From the Greek word katoptron, meaning mirror, this is a form of scrying that specifically uses a mirror rather than flame, water, or crystal ball. However, my version is a bit of a kitchen witch twist on it. We’ll get to that in a moment!

 The Wikipedia article on it refers to a Greek temple that used this method but it was also practiced in many other countries in history. There’s references to the “true seeing” of Hathor/Het-Hert/ḥwt-ḥr mirrors as well, despite them being mainly for practical purposes. The divination is practiced most commonly by placing a mirror near water, outside in moonlight, or near a candle flame. Then the reader looks into the mirror and interprets the images seen. They can be direct appearance-based (how you look) or seeing other images. The mirror can be a standard one, a painted one, or one made of a more opaque substance like obsidian or metal.

I will say personally, I practice catoptromancy in an “inner eye” scrying way rather than a pattern/tasseography way. That means that I am the conduit and the mirror/surface is to help me get into a trance state and what I “see” will be from my mind’s eye or may likely be added to what little I see on the surface through intuition and that sixth sense. But either method is absolutely fine.

I also don’t use a mirror. I use a well loved, well seasoned cast iron skillet for my catoptromancy, with a lighted candle usually. The glossy surface is mostly black iron but is just mirrored enough from being soaked in fat over the past decades of seasoning that it performs quite well for scrying. And the sentimental value helps it’s power. You may want to select an object in a similar fashion. You can choose an important mirror (the size doesn’t matter) or pick something that is mirror-like. The reflective ability is all that matters.

Get settled down in a comfortable spot without too much light. Get your one light source ready; a candle, the moon, a small table lamp or booklight even. You’ll want to be grounded, centered, and calm and then let yourself “zone out” in order to get into the mindset for scrying. Then examine your own reflection for certain aspects that stand out or look past yourself (or angle the mirror to not be looking right at you) to see other shapes or patterns that you expand upon with your trance state. Keeping a journal for this method is especially important. There’s an emotional and internal reflection aspect that can be helpful to refer back to and examine how things went in your life after certain sessions. It can also pair well with dream magic. What you were seeking might manifest after the trance mirror session in your dreams. This method of divination is especially good for shadow work as well.

~~~~~~

Osteomancy

Bones, bones bones! Throwing the bones! Examining the bones! Reading the bones! This is a divination method that obviously uses bones in order to determine associations and messages. It was prevalent in so many cultures throughout ancient and more recent history that it’s hard to pin down a single source. However, there are definitely methods that have particular cultural ties and those should be respected when it comes to closed ones. 

Much like runes or staves, the most common method counts upon both the appearance of the bones themselves as well as their placement in a “casting” (when you gently toss them onto a flat surface). Casting sets also frequently include items that aren’t just bones like small stones, coins, shells, pieces of jewelry, etc.

You can carve, mark, paint or stain the bones in ways that have personal associations to you to help in reading them. You can obtain these bones in any ethical way you are comfortable with. I don’t believe they have to be remains you have processed yourself; though that can add a different spiritual component. You should be considerate in collecting your set though. There is no set number of objects to have (even a single piece can answer yes/no questions) but I don’t recommend starting out of the gate with a pile. You should get comfortable with each piece and determine its associations before moving on to a new one.

Unlike Tarot, they don’t come with set meanings. Though there are sometimes obvious ones: a coin for finances, a seedpod or nut for fertility/prosperity, a sharp tooth for protection, etc. Think about what creature the bone is from, what part of the body, what shape it has when helping determine your personal associations. Treat it like a correspondence for herbs or crystals and that way you can have a more organic “sliding scale” type meaning for when you cast rather than a rigidly detailed one like with Tarot. For example: a meaning like “luck” or “prosperity” is better than “success in work”. It’s also common to have objects touch and then their meanings are joined. In the previous example you could get promotion/raise at work from having a work piece crossing with a prosperity or luck piece.

It is also up to you on what level of ritualized dedication and/or care you would like to give your set. Many people like to do a special dedication ritual to almost “welcome” the item to its new job as a divination tool (my own is what I call “Massaging the Bones”). You can also regularly cleanse and “feed” the casting set (energy that is- not literal food, though you could give it energy from something you’ve cooked in a non-literal way!). I do recommend a special bag or box to keep everything in as well as a soft thicker cloth to cast on. Just so the items don’t get damaged. Be careful in your casting. Practice a lot to know your strength level to throw while still keeping the objects safe. There may be a couple pieces (like baculums or thinner bird bones) that you need to wrap in a square of cloth before storing with the rest of your set for extra protection. This is especially true if you plan to take your set anywhere where it’ll be traveling in a bag or purse.

You can have a ritual circle of string or another material (embroidery hoop!) you lay out to help organize your cast if you like too. This is usually treated one of two ways. Like the face of a clock and items “closer” to certain times are more immediate and further away items around the imaginary numerals are more in the future. Or it’s concentric and the closer to the center of the circle are more important/relevant and then less relevant or immediate as you get closer to the edge. Those that fall outside the circle aren’t relevant to the reading.

This is a divination method you need an large amount of patience for as it is basically creating a tool yourself from scratch, even if you buy the supplies from elsewhere. The framework is laid by you. And just like someone designing a Tarot deck from scratch; be gentle with yourself and allow yourself the room to practice, change, grow, have fallow periods, return, get bored, become fanatic, etc. It’s a process sort of divination that grows like a living thing. This makes it a bittersweet one- rewarding and frustrating but mostly immensely satisfying.

~~~~~~

Divination is something that can be tailored to your desires, needs, and supplies. It can be made personal. You can create a whole new type if you like! Use what inspires you, what works for you. Use the marks on toast, the recommendations of Netflix, steam in a bathroom mirror after a shower. The world is your oyster!