#most of what I think about is related to them

[mythalism]

i think whats so interesting about the severe fumble of the dragon age elves is how i get the feeling that the devs underestimated how many people identify so strongly with them, even outside of the cultures they are most often cited as analogous to. you dont have to be indigenous or jewish to see yourself or your family or your people in their struggle. anyone who has ever experienced racism, xenophobia, religious persecution, or any sort of social and economic discrimination can find themselves reflected in the elves of thedas. anyone who has experienced poverty. anyone who has ever experienced the threat of sexual violence. perhaps not all of the experience would resonate but some aspect of it would. and even if they weren't so universally relatable, they should have been treated better for the way they do so clearly mimic real world experiences of genocide, racism and discrimination and the implications of veilguard's message to just "forget the past and move on" is frankly disgusting when viewed as an answer to the same questions faced daily by the real world cultures they reflect, and yesterday's anon showed that brilliantly.

but im also fascinated by the thought process behind how they just got so readily written off as an irrelevant monolith. it feels like they thought it would make no difference for players to lose this major point of connection to the world. epler's comment about how the "elves had their time to shine" haunts my nightmares. where are they getting these ideas from like genuinely? i dont understand where this conception of the players being sick of elves comes from. sick of solas, sure. even ancient elves. this is a widely expressed sentiment all over the internet and i don't blame people for it. but modern elves? city elves and enslaved elves and new dalish clans? are people actually saying this somewhere? or did they just conflate people being sick of how over-exposed solas and ancient elves were with being tired of elves as a people? did they think that requests for more dwarf and qunari lore meant people wanted the elves to be narratively absent? and did they really try to remedy that with giving titan/harding a throwaway line about how the elves have "thrived" while they suffered? and not actually really giving the dwarves or qunari anything substantial anyway? or did they fear criticism for writing them "wrong" and decided it was better to barely write them at all? did they think the players just wouldn't care? did they think at all?

[drchucktingle]

As an autistic person, did you struggle to make and keep friends? And have you found friends through the writing world? I ask because my mom always said i needed to find my people. I did finally find them (they are neurodiverse trans nerds, haha), but not until i was like 30. And i wonder if its true of other autistic people too. So i guess my question is: did you find your people, and when?

thank you this is good question. i have always had a LOT of CLOSE BUDS even from a very young age. i would actually say that i am unusually socially adept in my way and that it is partially BECAUSE of my autistic trot. LETS TALK ON THAT FOR A MOMENT

'BUT CHUCK YOU SAID YOU ARE ON THE SPECTRUM AND AUTISTIC BUCKAROOS CANNOT BE SOCIALLY ADEPT' some say. and sure it is UNUSUAL overall, technically speaking, but there is also an important reason we talk about this as a spectrum of buckaroos and not a monolith

when buckaroos ask me what it is like to be autistic i try to explain like this: there are certain cues and markers from the outside that serve as a sort of identification checklist but because of masking they are not always correct. instead i see it as question of WHAT IS IT LIKE INSIDE YOUR BRAIN?

internally my brain is different. its taking in way more information all the time, including the stuff that neurotypical buds block out, and that can become overwhelming. it is hard to navigate because i do not have that automatic neurotypical 'here is what is important here is what is not' function

so yes i can be easily distracted and zone out as i watch the patterns and fractals spin off. and yes i can miss certain things in social situations. in many autistic buckaroos this makes large groups overwhelming and the OUTPUT of behavior matches what we typically know as signs of autism

FOR ME however, same thing is going on inside, but i have managed to HARNESS that information. even from very young age i see that everyone is DOING THE HUMAN ACT but instead of rejecting that and shutting off i think 'well okay i am just going to do THIS because thats what they actually want'

in other words, most neurotypical buds say one thing that has a kind of spiraling social-cue-related OTHER MEETING (they do this ALL the time) and instead of rejecting that i have trained myself to be REALLY REALLY good at knowing the hidden meaning. it is EMPATHY but on a sort of LOGIC BASED level

and because i have always been pretty good at that, people like to trot around me and say 'wow this is a good friend they understand me'. now for ME that can be a little exhausting and there are things i need to do and stims and all that to release the effort, but overall it is worth it to me

OTHER THING is that i was a successful CREATOR AND ARTIST BUCKAROO from an early age which is socially seen as 'cool' especially when you are trotting around in your youth. it is not particularly FAIR but it is true that some level of fame makes buds treat you well even if you are 'weird'.

of course it can be a sort of FAKE 'treating you well' but as an autistic buckaroo it is still more of a chance than you might otherwise get. this timeline has sort of carved out a very special little sliver of social grace for the token odd artistic weirdo to have a seat at each cool kids table

ANYWAY that is the trot of my life. it is a unique trot that i dont get to talk on much but since you asked THERE YOU GO. every chance i get to say 'I LOVE BEING AUTISTIC' and talk on HOW MUCH IT HAS IMPROVED MY LIFE i try to take a moment and do that. when i was young i had few autistic heroes

and OF COURSE it can be difficult and overwhelming and we need to have space for those stories and voices, but i want young buckaroos who get this diagnosis to know there are ALL KINDS of stories and trots on the autism spectrum. MINE IS PRETTY DANG COOL and maybe yours will be too. LOVE IS REAL

[elipri]

Oh man this chapter was hilarious, I laughed so much! But it's also filled with political details and dare I say a setup for future plots and (much needed) character development 👀

Starting off with the confirmation that Ostania is indeed a nationalist country

This is also the first time that an outsider seems to view The Punch as something positive, as though Anya is standing up to right-wing extremism (which would actually be super cool ngl)

All the comedy aside, this is the first child character who's actually aware of politics and international relations. It makes sense that a prince has to keenly study politics and diplomacy, most of his thoughts are about his country and which repercussions his interactions in Eden could have on the grand scheme of things. This kid literally breathes politics, everything from his mannerisms, expressions and thoughts is deeply embedded in his political upbringing. That's quite a burden for a 6 year old kid...

Now let's talk about how this will affect my favourite brat hahaha

They are literal opposites in everything, but I find it interesting how the prince is basically a subversion of Damian (and could probably bring out the worst in him)

Damian thinks he's hot shit because of his father and acts as though he's royalty, but he's maybe a noble at best. He calls everyone who doesn't share his status a peasant and looks down on them. His expressions are brash and very rude and he has gotten reprimanded for it before. He aspires to become a politician, yet he lacks every single skill for that. However he's also courageous when it does matter.

The prince on the other hand is obviously of royal descent, but he's not arrogant at all. In fact, he's just scared of international scandal and a coward. He's humble and eager to befriend his Ostanian classmates and doesn't care if they're "peasants". He has actual diplomatic skills that he applies all the time. He's honest and straightforward in his thoughts and doesn't feel ashamed to openly befriend Anya, even going as far as suggesting that he should visit her home

I can also see him subtly and passive-aggressively make digs at Damian. There seems to be a suggestion that his kingdom is either politically centrist and/or left-leaning and Damian might incorporate everything that prince hates. He would also get away with provoking Damian because he's already mastered diplomacy (for a 6 yo lol) which could ultimately lead to Damian embarrassing himself in front of everyone (and maybe even earn a tonitrus that he kinda deserves ngl). Unlike prince, Damian is impulsive, emotional and just starts to scream at everyone around him. He doesn't know what composure is.

Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if most of their classmates will start to distance themselves from Damian and no longer put him on a pedestal. Why should they when there's a literal prince among them who treats everyone with respect and is always eloquent, even when he's internally freaking out.

All of this will hopefully trigger Damian's long-overdue character development. The clash with prince is inevitable either way, especially because Anya is involved. Yes I want to see jealous Damian, but I also want him to grow up a little and realize that he's not that important, he shouldn't treat others as beneath him and most importantly he should realize that he knows nothing. He doesn't know what actually makes a great leader and politician. He doesn't know how Ostania and his father are viewed internationally. He's not aware how his actions could actually bear political consequences.

I do hope he will befriend prince in the end though, he could learn many things from him. Only in Eden do international relations form during elementary school lmao

[asha-mage]

February couldn't let me go without one final sucker punch to the gut so naturally I'm coping by thinking about gay people in fantasy and/or historical settings, so have this thought-

One of the inherent erotic tensions in Arthur and Merlin's relationship is that Arthur, as a future sovereign, is wedded to the realm. This is a common motif in monarchies, and was most famously used by Elizabeth I to defend her legitimacy in the face of her choice not to marry. This relates to Arthur's relationship with Merlin because Merlin is the land. I've joked that Merlin is the divine right of kings in human form but the clear subtext throughout the show is that Merlin is the living embodiment of Albion's magic. He is Emerys a figure of awe to the druids. He is last of the Dragonlords, and the chosen one of Kilgarah's prophecy and he is bursting with so much magic that he can barely control it. He is one with the land because magic is one with the land. He is wild and untamed impossible to control, and with is own sense of rules and balance justice- literally everything about magic that Uther hates and tries to repress.

And it makes a perverse sense that the show's corner stone is his and Arthur's relationship. Arthur is the future king- in a very real way he and Merlin are already married, bound together inextricably. Merlin has the power to reach out and destroy Arthur at any time, as easy as closing his hand and he doesn't, because he believes in him and cares for him and knows he can save them all. If that ever stops being true- if that relationship ever falls apart that's it. Merlin could walk away at any time and that's the end of Camelot, of Albion, of destiny. He doesn't even have to kill Arthur, just leave him to reap what Uther has sown, because without Merlin around to shield Arthur, the consequences of Uther's hate would kill Arthur a hundred times over. The true struggle in the series isn't against Morgana, or Mordred, or anyone else. It's in weather or not Merlin's belief in Arthur can withstand whatever can be thrown against it.

And the tragedy is that it does, and that still isn't enough to save either of them in the end. Merlin will never stop believing in Arthur, never stop loving him. Arthur is the ultimate king and Merlin is the avatar of the land he rules over and they are two sides of the same coin, to halves of legend still waiting to be told, a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled.

Arthur is the once and future king, and Merlin is the elder god of a land still yearning and crying out for his return.

[meelusinee]

Fem!reader x Mattheo, who had given her the Amortentia potion,can be smut or something like one of the teachers/students realise somethings up

LOVE'S WORST ENEMY | M.R X READER

word count \ 3.8k | not so fluff | slash / mattheo riddle / fem!reader

in which mattheo uses amortentia to get his girl

minor cw & tw: use of amortentia (which is considered drugging) & manipulation

You had never liked Mattheo before.

That wasn’t to say you disliked him, or that you hated him. Rather, you just never truly knew him well enough to like him.

Mattheo was Slytherin’s signature rugged bad boy. A prankster that walked the line of ‘too much’ like it was an already snorted line of cocaine and he wanted more. He had friends that were high up as well. Pureblood aristocrats who had millions in their family wealth. His reputation had been built for him by the time his name had been called for the Sorting Hat, and he seemed to love playing into what everyone thought was true.

And you? 

You weren’t known at all. Or at least, you weren’t known like that. Just a regular student who tried to live a regular life. A little better than average grades, and a couple of close friends, though not much more than that. The most you were known as was Hermione Granger’s quiet friend, though barely anyone knew you two even talked in the first place. 

Which led you confused as to why Mattheo had decided you were his. You weren’t even sure how it started. You supposed it was the tutoring. 

Mattheo could feel his heartbeat against the paper he was holding. 

It was beating so hard he could feel every palpitation inside his veins. He had never felt this way before, had he? Nervous was not a word that was in his dictionary. He had the impulse control of a raccoon with rabies, he hated the concept of nervousness like a rabid dog feared water. 

Which is why he hated that you made him this way. 

You, a regular student. Granger’s quiet friend, maybe a bit of a high achiever. A tutor in Charms, Transfiguration and now Potions. 

Just regular. Normal. 

So why was he so attracted to you? He didn’t know. 

And he hated it. Hated that he had no control of the situation, Hated that you probably only knew him from his reputation. He could treat you so well, he knew that. Any date that you wanted, any gift that you were promised as a child and never got. Absolutely anything. 

But you didn’t know that. And he hated not having power over that. 

So, instead of slowly making you fall in love with him all while knowing you might never truly love him, like a regular person would, he decided to go through a faster route. Amortentia.

Which led to him failing his recent Potions exams about Amortentia. 

It was a simple plan. Fail anything relating to love potions until Slughorn hunted him down. Stare at him with those eyes that seemed to scare the professor into allowing anything that Mattheo wanted, and then ask to be tutored by you. After that, he’d say yes. Mattheo knew he would say yes. 

And he knew that he’d get you alone after that.

“Excuse me,” Mattheo whispered, a small slip of paper laid in his hands as he stood next to your desk in the library. You had notes scattered around, some almost falling off the desk. “Are you Y/N?”

You looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours, completely innocent and unknowing of the entire world. It was absolutely adorable to say the least. “Yes?”

“Good.” he said, holding up the small slip of paper. “Slughorn paired us up together? Tutoring?”

You looked at the slip in his hand confusedly. You had indeed offered to start tutoring for Slughorn, but you hadn’t been told that you were meant to be tutoring someone just yet. Though, Slughorn was paying you, so you weren’t complaining too much. 

“What did you need help with?” you asked him curiously, taking the slip with those smooth hands of his. They looked so small, so delicate. He couldn’t wait to feel them melting against his chest.

Mattheo shrugged simply. “Amortentia, I think.”

You nodded and chuckled at that, closing your book and sitting up a bit straighter. “It is a hard potion, especially the time it takes. Do you have everything you need for it?”

He smiled a bit sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t know what I need.”

You looked at him before shaking your head. “That’s probably why you need tutoring.” you chuckled, pulling up a list from your pile of notes spread across the desk. “I have a list here, you can ask Slughorn for the materials. He should still be in his office right now, he only goes to his room after sundown.” you muttered, handing the list to him. “Come back after, okay?”

“Thank you.” he nodded and smiled quietly, looking down at the list before walking off. Mattheo could feel your eyes on him. He wasn’t sure what you thought about him. 

Maybe you thought that he was quiet, or weird. Or maybe you already knew of his reputation. Would that be a bad thing? He wasn’t so sure. He knew that his soft tone and his smiles would make you question what you knew already. And he knew that you were going to be more forgiving then most people would.

And that’s exactly what he needed. 

He sighed as he looked down at the list, a small smirk growing on his lips as he saw the ingredients he had months memorizing. 

1 piece Bdellium 5 Flutterby Bush Flowers 1 sprigs Knotgrass 3 Lacewing Flies 1 drop Lethe River Water 6 Mistletoe Berries 1 measure Pearl Dust 1 measure Powdered Asphodel Root 2 measures Powdered Unicorn Horn 4 drops Rose Oil 6 Rose Petals 1 cup Standard Potioning Water

Mistletoe berries were easy to grab. Pearl dust could be modified to be more potent. Mattheo was sure that Theodore had a rose that was raised more potent than three, and the Unicorn Horn was easily acquirable as well. He was sure that he could modify the ingredients to make it more potent, to make it longer or stronger whenever someone took it.

When he would make you take it. 

He chuckled under his breath and pocketed the list of ingredients, already knowing exactly what he was getting himself into. His heart was racing in his fingertips, though this time it was full of anticipation. 

“I have a gift for you.” he muttered quietly.

You looked up as Mattheo approached you with a small box of chocolates, a small smile growing on your face as you saw him. Mattheo and you had been hanging out more often ever since he started being your makeshift Potions student. 

He was a good guy. You didn’t care what everyone else said about him, because you knew him better than they did. Sure, he was rambunctious, but what teenager wasn’t? He was kind to you, and he listened much more than anyone else ever had. His friends were nice too, albeit a bit harsher compared to him. Reckless womanizers that threw money on alcohol and impulse spendings that made no sense to you. You knew it didn’t care that it didn’t make that much sense to you though. 

“You got a gift?” you asked him with a small smile. 

“Mhm.” he smiled at you, handing you the gift. “Chocolate.”

You gasped quietly as you took in the box as a whole. It was a heart shape, a box that had been painted pastel pink with lace glued on the edges. The chocolate seemed homemade, not quite from the beginning but enough to seem homemade to you. There was a small note on the back of the cover, which stated that they were made with a caramel filling in the middle. “Wow.”

Mattheo chuckled quietly, looking at you with a small smile and a look in your eyes you couldn’t quite place. “Do you like it?” he asked quietly.

“I love it!” you said excitedly, eating one of the chocolates almost instantly. “Oh my, that’s delicious.”

Mattheo sat down next to you with a small smirk planted on his face, watching you eat the chocolates one after another. You didn’t seem to care much about anything else other than the chocolate in the moment, though you also knew that was nothing more than a moment-level fixation.

He had made them himself, after all.

You had helped him brew Amortentia, finishing your group potion just last week. What you didn’t know was that he had memorized every single step and made his own in the dungeons after he left the library every night. What you didn’t know was that he had inserted it into the chocolate. 

“Does it taste good?” he asked you curiously.

You nodded your head and giggled quietly. “It tastes really good, actually.”

He hummed at that, ruffling your hair before looking down at his watch. “I have to meet with Theo and Blaise, but I wanted to give those to you first.” he smiled at you. “Can we meet up later?”

You looked up at him with a look in your eyes that almost made him crumble at the sight. It was absolutely innocent and adorable, the picture perfect representation of everything that he had fallen for. He felt his resolve crumbling in that moment, wanting nothing more than to stay there with you forever. But he had to resist the urge.

Otherwise, his potion wouldn’t work.

“Yeah, we can do that.” you smiled quietly at him. “If the library’s closed, we can meet in the Astronomy Tower right?”

He nodded. “Mhm.” he said, kissing the back of your hand again. 

“Okay.” you said, nodding and giggling as he kissed the back of your hand. “I’ll see you later?”

“I’ll see you later.” he whispered back. He could already see a new look of him forming in your eyes, he could feel the way your heart was beating inside of your fingers.

This would be fun.

You felt different.

Your heartbeat was beating faster than you ever felt it beat, and you had escaped from the library early to hide inside of your dorm room. Your body was hot, sweating especially near your hands. You weren’t sure if you were sick, if you would have to cancel your plans on Mattheo due to some fever.

Oh, Mattheo.

Anytime you thought about Mattheo, you felt all of your symptoms worsening. You weren’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. And you also weren’t sure what you were going to tell your roommates either.

Especially Hermione.

“Y/N?” she called out, looking at you with a small frown as she noticed you laying in bed. You were meant to be studying in the library with her right now, though that wouldn’t work if you weren’t exactly there. “Are you doing okay? You weren’t in the library.”

You nodded before shaking your head. “Uh, I don’t know. I’m really hot right now.”

“Do you have a fever?” she asked you curiously. “Or any other symptoms?”

You shrugged your shoulders, clearing your throat as you sat up. Your cheeks were flushed warm and your body was shaking slightly, though it only seemed like that whenever you thought of Mattheo. Did he have some sickness he accidently gave you? There was a chance he was asymptomatic.

“Uh, I’m really hot.” you muttered. “My palms are sweaty. And my heart’s beating really fast.”

Hermione frowned at that, placing her books on her bed and walking over to you. “When did your symptoms start?” she asked as she placed her hand against your forehead.

“Anytime that I think about one of my,” you muttered, clearing your throat. “One of my friends.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows at that. “Whenever you think about someone?”

You nodded your forehead. “I think that he might be asymptomatic. We’ve been hanging out recently for tutoring, he needed help with potions.”

“Has this been recent?” Hermione asked, one of her eyebrows raised. 

Your eyebrows furrowed at that, looking up at her as you saw the small upward tilt of her lips. “Okay Mione, what is it?”

She chuckled before shaking her head. “Could it be that you might be in love with him?”

You looked up at her confusedly. Blinking once, twice.

Could you be in love with him?

“Maybe.” you whispered quietly, nulling it over in your mind. Mattheo was a good person, wasn’t he? Just misunderstood, certainly. He always listened to you, he made you feel happy. Something you could never place your finger on. But maybe that thing was love.

Could it be love?

“Are you going to hang out with your friend later?” Hermione asked you, watching you nod. “Maybe you can test out your theory there then.

You nodded quietly. “Maybe I will.”

Mattheo was already sitting in the Astronomy Tower when you got there, though you made sure to keep your steps extra quiet when you climbed up. You wanted to observe him first, to watch him when he wasn’t being perceived by you. You thought it might help your theory.

Yet all it did was make your heart beat erratically.

He was absolutely beautiful in the moonlight. It shined on his hair perfectly, the small lantern he had brought showing off every single freckle on his arms and face. You wished that you could make a constellation out of them. Fingers trailing up and down each scar and mark.

“Y/N?”

You snapped out of it when you realized Mattheo was now standing right in front of you. “Mattheo!”

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, hand moving to caress your cheek. You could feel your heart thumping at the feeling. “You look rather zoned out.”

You shook your head out of its daze with a small smile, walking past him to sit down on the small blanket he brought for the both of you. “Thank you.” you smiled.

“Course,” he said with a chuckle. “Anything for you.”

You felt the pitter patter of your heart rise even more, a flush covering your cheeks. Anything for you?

“I don’t think I got to ask if you finished the chocolate.” he said to you. His voice sounded like raw honey that you would cover a sweet treat with, something that would melt down your throat. “Did you like it?”

“Mhm.” you nodded. “Loved it.”

Mattheo smirked, in a way that you had never seen before. Almost like he had a plan or something going on behind those brown eyes. But you seemed to lose yourself in those eyes before you could realize what the smirk really meant.

“Y/N?” he called out again to you, eyebrows furrowed as you zoned back to reality again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You keep zoning out.”

You felt your heartbeat in your fingers at the concern in his voice. He genuinely cared about you. And that alone made your cheeks flush warmer and warmer until everything was spilling out of your mouth. “You make me feel sick.”

Mattheo blinked for a moment before looking at you once more. “What?”

“My heart feels like it’s pounding out of my chest,” you whispered quietly. “And my face is always warm. I can’t stop myself from sweating even though I hate sweating. And my stomach has these weird butterflies too.”

Mattheo’s face was confused for a moment before a wide smirk broke out on his face, chuckles escaping his throat before he could stop them. “You think you’re sick?”

“Yes!” you pouted. “So don’t laugh at me.”

Mattheo shook his head before leaning closer, close enough to where you could see how full his eyelashes really were. They almost made you jealous. “Y/N,” he whispered quietly. “You sound like you’re in love. Not sick.”

“That’s what Mione said.” you grumbled quietly.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t my second opinion mean it’s truthful?”

You looked at him with the best pout you could muster. That seemed to be enough for him, as his hands cradled your face and his lips gently locked onto yours.

This, you thought, is what heaven must feel like. 

His lips were soft and sweet, something you couldn’t seem to get enough of. And his tongue felt like it was yours with the way it slotted so well into your mouth. You didn’t mind the faint taste of blood from a busted lip he had gotten from a fight some time ago, especially since your senses were running on overdrive from the scent of his perfume running your head heady.

He pulled away all too soon, eyes locking on yours. “You’re a rather nice kisser.”

You smiled softly at that, teeth biting your lip as you looked at him. This was your first ever kiss, and it was absolutely perfect.

You didn’t want to change it for the world.

Hermione was observant. 

That was a trait she prided herself on quite frequently. Whether it be her keen ability to think of a spell almost as soon as the situation needed it, or her ability to observe others from an intellectual standpoint. Anything textbook was something she could figure out easily.

What she couldn’t figure out was why you were acting so differently.

Ever since you had confessed that you were in love with someone, she had noticed the signs. You came back that night extremely dazed with marks along the side of your neck and legs. She didn’t question then.

You’d skip out on your study sessions from time to time to hang out with whoever you were so in love with. She didn’t question then. Nor did she question the ‘dazed’ look you’d get in your eyes whenever she mentioned the existence of your lover.

That wasn’t until she learned it was Mattheo.

She was sure that she wasn’t meant to know. Your curtains were mostly closed, though they were open enough for her to tell his figure from anywhere. 

And that left her mind whirring.

Hermione had heard rumors about the Slytherins learning Amortentia potions for whatever reason that Slytherins needed to learn Amortentia for. She never questioned it at first, for she thought it was a good potion to learn about. Knowing about Amortentia meant that you knew about the signs of poisoning and how to prevent it from escalating further.

And Hermione could easily see the signs within you.

The dazed look in your eyes. The infatuation you had suddenly gained with no knowledge of it before. The way you broke rules to nurture the love. Case in point, somehow sneaking a male Slytherin into the girl’s Gryffindor dormitories.

And Hermione was already getting sick of it.

So much so that she decided to confront you.

“Hi Mione!”

Hermione looked up to see you walking towards her with a small smile, teeth marks and hickeys plastered clearly on your neck. Those were the same marks that girls used to have when Mattheo would hook up with them almost two years ago. Hermione found it quite ironic that they seemingly stopped one day.

“Mystery guy again?” she asked.

You nodded, and Hermione noticed the look in your eyes almost immediately. It was the same look Ron had gotten when Romilda had tried to poison Harry.

“Who is your mystery guy?” she asked you confusedly. “You talk so much about him, yet I never figured out who you’re talking about.

You looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, quite obviously confused. “I thought I told you?”

“No, you didn’t.” she said.

“Oh!” you said before shaking your head. “It’s Mattheo! He asked me out, that one day I thought I was sick.”

Hermione felt her eyebrows furrowing at that. “Mattheo?”

“Mione,” you whined. “He’s a good person. Just because his parents suck doesn’t mean he sucks.”

“The fact that that is your opening leaves me concerned.” she said sternly. “Are you sure he doesn’t have you under some potion?”

“He wouldn’t drug anyone!” you said, ignoring the librarian’s hush that echoed through the library walls. “It’s not my fault that everyone seems to judge him. If you got to know him, maybe you’d understand.”

“Y/N,” Hermione sighed, closing her book. “I’m not saying that because of his reputation. I’m saying that because I’ve noticed the signs in you.”

“What signs?” you asked incredulously.

“The dazed eyes, the lovesick puppy act,” she listed off. “The fact that you’re breaking rules to sneak him into our dormitory. Literally everything.”

You just rolled your eyes at that. “That means nothing.”

“Weren’t you tutoring him on Amortentia when you met?” she asked incredulously.

“That means nothing either.” you spat, standing up with your bag in hand. “I’m going somewhere else to study.”

“Y/N!” Hermione said, unable to grab her books in time to catch up with you leaving the library.

This wasn’t going to end well.

“Mattheo!”

Mattheo turned his head as he heard the sound of your voice, his mind echoing as he repeated it over and over in his mind. There was something wrong.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

You had tears running down your cheeks and a quivering lip, almost like a kicked puppy. He felt his heart breaking at the sight. 

He cooed gently as his hands guided you to his lap, pressing kisses against your temple, cheeks and lips whenever he could. You almost immediately melted into his lap, hands wrapping around his body instinctively.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asked again.

You sniffled. “Hermione thinks that you drugged me.”

Mattheo felt his body stiffen slightly, though he didn’t want you to catch that. “Why would she think that?”

You rolled your eyes before going on to explain the situation, how Hermione had listed symptoms of the Amortentia potion and how you ‘apperently’ fit the box. Mattheo didn’t want to say that you did fit the box, that he had drugged you with Amortentia. What he did know was that he would have to do something about Hermione after this.

“I’m sorry love,” he whispered gently.

You huffed. “It’s just not fair how nobody can see you for you!” you muttered. “You wouldn’t do that, right?”

“Never.” he lied, with such a conviction that even the universe might make it true. “I would never do that to you, my love.”

“Good.” you nodded before sniffing again.

Mattheo hummed and kissed the tip of your nose again, pulling out a small flask of his drink. “I know you don’t drink often,” he whispered, opening the flask and letting you sniff it. “But do you want a drink right now?”

You looked at the drink before nodding, taking the flask from him and drinking as much as you could in one gulp. Mattheo chuckled as his thumbs caressed your waist, loving the slightly pink hue that your eyes had taken.

He also didn’t mind the new hickeys that appeared down your neck that night either.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

well this was quite a fun prompt! i know that this was technically a smut request, but i have a moral thing against love potions being influential in terms of romantic or sexual intercourse (if anyone is curious, i can so make another post about that) and i doubt i'd be very good at representing SA in a harry potter fanfiction, so there isn't any smut for this one. however! i did find this fun to write, knowing that this is just fiction. so thank you for the request anon! u can read part two here!

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, and reblog! have a lovely day!

[evenwhenihadnothingihad-stucky]

Hey stucky fic writers just so you know, getting told “oh it’s ok to be gay now and it’s legal” is not enough to get rid of internalized homophobia. That shit takes years to unlearn.

They’re still gonna have that deep down instinct that what they’re doing, what they’re feeling is wrong. It takes time to heal from that. Because they were taught their whole lives it was wrong and disgusting. It’s engrained in their mind. Being told it’s fine now won’t magically undo all that trauma.

As someone who was raised evangelical I still struggle talking about gay stuff in real life (I haven’t even been a Christian for years). Plus Steve and Bucky had it worse; they were taught being gay was a disease!

People think of queer history and they think of people going to gay bars and being unafraid of who they were regardless of society’s standards but that’s survivors bias. Those are just the ones that got recorded in history. Most queer people back then lived in the shadows and brought it with them to their graves, possibly praying to God that he’d take their ‘perversion’ away. Or they were just in such deep denial they didn’t even question why they seemed a little different.

Unfortunately being gay is a big fucking deal in our society and it’s not treated the same as being straight. And it sucks. Steve and Bucky’s relationship would’ve looked much different than a straight couple because of the fear, the shame, and the expectations.

And it ain’t fair but that’s the truth.

(And if you are queer, and you don’t understand or relate to this post? Be grateful 😭🙏)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

i'm so sorry to put this thought into the world and if you've already talked about this but are beastfolk... furries? I'm not familiar with what they are and on the loose definition i think they are? I'm sorry

No, they’re not 😅 Beastmen are considered their own race in Twisted Wonderland. Leona even remarks in Cloudcalling on the Savanna that “beastfolk descend from the animals.”

They have actual animal DNA in them—so their animal traits (tails, ears, feathers/fur, behaviors, etc.) are very much real. They’re not just slapping on a pair of fake ears and a fake tail and roleplaying as their fursonas, and they’re not into anthropomorphic animals; they generally live like regular humans and don’t generally share the same interests as furries do.

Beastmen are related to a popular trope in Japanese media known as kemonomimi, which are human characters with animal ears. The most common example of this is the neko or cat girl.

Furries, on the other tend to prefer… more animal on the spectrum than human. Something closer to the characters you’d find in Zootopia:

[jamethinks]

Here's the thing about Anya.

Her primary goal is to achieve world peace, a concept she has no understanding of but she is fervently dedicated. Some part it is due to her childish attitude and obsession with spies but there is another part.

Anya does not understand her own self-worth and self-identity outside of her role as a tool in achieving "world peace".

When Anya grew up her main purpose was always "for the sake of world peace". Everything she did was for that sake. It was almost as if her entire reason for existing was for world peace. But it also wasn't, because she was made by accident. This adds an extra dimension where she was seen as optional. This would obviously damage herself esteem and really force her to want to please the people around her because in their minds she was more of a hassle.

When Anya was finally adopted by Twilight she found out he had the same goal as the scientists that held her before. Also, more directly he is willing to discard of her if she is not up to the task. In a way, Twilight is no different than the scientists that had her before. Of course over time he eventually empathize with her and focus more on her comfort than functionality. He does not directly scold Anya to force her fulfill this role but her telepathy gives her that knowledge.

But you clearly see the impact of the scientist on Anya's sense of self and how Twilight does not do much to help (although to some extent it is not his fault).

Anya remains fairly optimistic about the whole thing and continues to aim to achieve her goal. But we also see where these ideas negatively effect her. It makes her clingy, desperate, it keeps her in a constant fear of rejection. even the most minor forms of rejection can completely shatter her because she for her any failure puts her one step closer back into the street.

This is one of the traits she actually shares with both Damian and Becky. I will focus on Damian to keep it short though. Damian is very preoccupied with being the best. He lives a very isolated life and has no relationship with his own family. For what ever reason, he accredits this to his father. Damian believes that the only to get his father's approval and therefore his (and the rest of his families') love is if he succeeds. There is also this additional pressure put on him because of his father's status which externalizes this pressure. The reason he likes Anya so much is because she does not apply that pressure. She does not expect to be great, she just wants to be his friend for her mission. There is also that transparency which makes him feel less tricked and hence safe.

The Prince kid also mirrors that same dilemma. He has a responsibility as the Prince to maintain a certain standard and reputation. His family needs him to be strong and noble but in the end he is just a kid. When he is confront by the Freddy he is scared out of his mind, worried that if he loses he will disappoint his family.

The problem with this however, is that it further surrounds Anya with people that think the same way she does. This only encourages this kind of thinking. Anya is constantly surrounded by people that echo the same negative sentiments she has about herself and self worth. For Damian (and Becky) it works because it gives her ground to relate to them and her seemingly carefree nature allows her to motivate them to let go of this attitude.

But who is encouraging Anya to relax? Who is encouraging Anya to let go of these insecurities?

Anya's identity and motivation is still defined through her father and to a less extent the scientist. she is still motivated by the idea of world peace. However, Anya herself does not know what that means or why she should be aiming for it. It is more of a concept to her than a tangible goal. Her only true goal is to not be returned. For that reason she will never push back against Loid, she will follow his guidance and never develop a personal goal.

Now here is where i think Freddy or some delinquent of some sort will come in use.

For Anya to gain a sense of identity, she needs to push back against her father. She needs to start doing things that prioritizes her own happiness over her father's aim for world peace. She needs someone that will push into her more natural self. Anya is naturally a girl of chaos and mischief. She is not like the others who well behaved and properly trained, nor is she personally interested in being that girl. The only reason Anya is interested in achieving this is for the sake of father. She does not understand the purpose of a lot of these things she is just afraid of being sent back to the orphanage.

I feel like Anya having someone who can encourage her to lean more into the rebel side and allow to actually challenge the things she has been told. Children are curious by nature and one aspect of that is the question of "why?". Constantly provoking the people around them to explain and justify the things they tell them. Anya should also be able to decide what she agrees with and what she disagrees with. She also suffer from natural consequences of her actions. And you will never have that if never challenge your parents or teachers.

Anya is surrounded by goodie two shoes. Although she is still in touch with that curious and defiant side but if there is no one else around to encourage it she will continue to conform and eventually that curious side of her will disappear. If she never gets someone who can remind her to be young and curious she will lose that part of herself. She needs Freddy. Fuck you.

[dandelionuprising]

I think a fundamental issue is that no direct comparison can be made between the treatments we use for different symptoms. Antidepressants are not adhd meds are not antipsychotics etc etc. I think a lot of movies that show severe mental illness and the effects of medicine, are actually depicting antipsychotics. Which are notorious for being sedating and taking away a lot of your experience, even as they may also take away some of the bad experiences. So as someone who is in the antipsychotics camp of mental health issues, I find that depiction very relatable.

I'm glad OP and others have had a good experience with their meds, but I think it's important to acknowledge that not everyone will have a good experience, and there won't necessarily be a med that will have the desired effect. And that people who don't have a good experience with medication don't necessarily have to keep trying, it's not necessarily the case that the right med is just around the corner. It's ok to be done with psychiatric medicine. It's ok to not want to risk it at all. Psychiatric medicine is far from being an exact science, and it's extremely hit and miss whether it helps. And for a bunch of people, it ends up doing more harm than good.

Depression or adhd or psychosis etc obviously have a basis in the physical realm, arising from biological as well as psychological and social factors, but we don't have a clear understanding of how exactly, and the medication we use to treat them don't pinpoint target the issue. Rather, they are psychoactive drugs with effects that sometimes, but not always, alleviate the distressing symptoms of various psychiatric disorders.

No one gets to define who the "real you" is. You're real with or without the influence of medication, you just have to decide which version you like being the most. I did like what adhd medication did for me personally, but I've also quit, because the withdrawal is intense in terms of making me completely unable to do anything, and I'm not very good at taking meds consistently, so it caused way more highs and lows in functionality than what I was comfortable with. Two of my partners take ADHD meds religiously, and for at least one of them, it's been life-saving. I also know a person who lost 5 years to adhd medication. It completely changed their personality from a quirky, loving nb pal, to functional but distant dude completely out of touch with "his"(?) emotions. They can barely remember those years, and the mother of their children broke up with them during those years because there was just zero emotional availability (they're back together now). Which is just to say that even a generally well loved and effective medication like central stimulants for adhd can have horrible side effects for some people.

Meanwhile antipsychotics are objectively a really heavy hitting form of medication that (more or less subtly) works by sedating your brain so you have less ability to have weird ass thoughts and experiences. I have found that for me, a baby dose way below the suggested amount for treating schizophrenia/psychosis helps me cope and feel better. But when I was on the lowest recommended dose to treat my diagnosis, I completely lost my spark. I slept 15+ hours a day and spent most of my time listlessly lying on the floor or sofa, staring at the ceiling. Several of my close friends have lost years of their life to antipsychotics. And it's really important to acknowledge these types of experiences, while also acknowledging that medicine can be great sometimes.

The two experiences can coexist. And it's important to acknowledge that these are heavy hitting drugs with a lot of potential consequences (all of them, but some more often than others), and to let everyone make their own decisions about what they want to try and what they want to keep taking. One person choosing not to medicate themselves is not an attack on another who chooses to do so, or vice versa.

90s movies: Psychopharmacology is as good as a lobotomy. If you take pills to treat your mental illness it will literally murder your imaginary friends and you will become a boring, lotus-eating conformist drone.

Me after taking my meds: drives the scenic route home to see if there are any geese on the pond and does a little dance in line at the grocery store and comes home to throw everything​ in my fridge into a stew pot because I can finally taste food again while singing songs at my birds in which I replace all the instances of "she" with "Cheese" and doing a Dolly Parton impression on the phone to my sister

[shatcey]

Lover Contract (Victor)

I will not make summary… there is not much plot in this story. They came to this club (for lovers only), noticed the guy they needed to check out, and… look around a bit. That's all. But… Kate and Victor had interesting (even philosophical) thoughts, and I would like to reflect on them…

But before that… Victor spoils us a lot with his gentle expression at this event. And… because of that, it took me longer than usual to read it… I just couldn't help but stare at him..

(smiles tenderly) He's so cute…

The post turned out to be quite big. Like like my theory post… very big. I am surprised myself. But I mentioned that I liked this event, even though it didn't have much plot, it contained a lot of interesting thoughts and made me think. More than usual… if that even possible.

They came to this club to confirm that one of the Prime Council member is having an affair. And they noticed him right away… Victor was contemplating…

Despite the fact that he seems to be a person who sees everything only in white and black… bad or good… He doesn't divide people based on that. In his eyes, they are all the same. Friends or foes… they all are just people. The only reason he decided he had to use this information against the guy… because he needs to protect Crown. If he didn't have to, what would he decide? I wondering…

And after that, they noticed another acquaintance… The guy who is famous for being a faithful husband and even making speeches about it… But it turned out that he has a mistress.

Victor looks extremely angry here. That's not the right word… he looks at the guy with disdain. The fact that someone is cheating annoys him, as if for some reason it is very personal to him. Had someone betrayed him? Had someone betrayed his loved ones?

At the very end of the main part of the story… Kate… looking at all these unfaithful spouses thinking out loud…

After everything she'd seen… unsurprisingly, she began to doubt…

He's fascinated by love in general. I have a feeling it has something to do with his curse… Freedom and love… All fairy tales are about at least one of these concepts, but they're usually about protoganist, not antoganist. Was there antagonist somewhere who did bad things for love??? I… don't remember… If ANY love is "fascinating"… As Ally said in the Chocolate event, "everything is fair in love and war." It must be somehow related… No, I still can't catch that thought…

A long sentence on the middle screenshot… can be not entirely correct. I found a very interesting dictionary. It's quite easy to split a sentence into words. BUT… most languages have a very strict order of words in a sentence. And if you know this order, you can easily understand that the part of the speech every word should be. But… there are no special restrictions in my native language… as you may have noticed, I'm constantly playing with words.So, out of habit, I could interpret these words as I see fit. Even adjust it to my thoughts. There was a question in the original text, but it was in the middle. But to make it sound more logical, I changed the sentence to this.

And this wording of his makes me think that he is not a human. He talks about them as if he is just an observer… and has nothing to do with them…

And here we go… What he said earlier was… just a fact, and he doesn't judge others, this it their life. But personally he doesn't like cheating. Nice to know.

Bitter ending

After a short walk (I don't see the point in telling you what happened there, it's not relevant) they return back to the main hall. Kate is thirsty (I wonder why), Vivi notices this and orders drinks.

Well, he's a second Gilly-bee. He probably knows more about you than you know yourself…

I played with the words again, but it seems more correct than what the mechanical translation suggested to me. So… she feels like he's far away… for many reasons: age, experience, knowledge, status… But he takes it literally. The distance. We learned from the LINE campaign that he has been looking out for her from a DISTANCE for a very long time. And… he feels lonely because even though he is with her right now, she still thinks he is far away.

If I had read this BEFORE the LINE campaign, perhaps I would have interpreted these words as his usual sad thoughts about loneliness. But now everything is completely different. And in the next part, he literally says it. He took her hand and told her that he was here with her. And he's "just like her." It's a very peculiar wording. I'm not going to talk about it now. I'm more happy about the next part. He never considered himself free.

He FINALLY admitted it. Where it was… in one of my theory posts… I was talking about freedom… here. It was pretty obvious, but Vivi had never confirmed it before… But here… he really became more open, more… naked, as he said in the epilogue… It was as if he no longer had the desire to remain an observer with her… It feels like we're already in the middle of his route. I'll explain why I think so later.

Kate had an interesting thought…

It makes me think about that damn…. fish… again… I know she's not a fish, she's kind of humanoid. Thatever! The mermaid is not the villain in this story… She's a victim. A victim of betrayal. She suffers from the moment she fell in love until the very end. But… It seems that everything fits too well into the story… And the fact that he takes care of her from a distance, and the fact that he used to be free, but no anymore… It's just too similar. Annoying so. Calm down, girl, it's too early to riled up. But if his curse is that damn fish, I'll scream!

And the fact that Kate either thinks of him that way, or already knows about it… It seems that this is already his route.

Premium ending

We talked for a while on the balcony. After Kate said that she now considers love to be freer than she originally thought… Victor suddenly noticed.

IT'S SO CLOSE!!! But not quite. Oh, what a shame! If you don't understand what I'm implying, I've written about it here.

And after Kate asks, "What kind of love is Victor looking for?"

I don't need Harrison to confirm this, it's obvious that he's lying. Well… he wasn't lying, but he wasn't completely honest either. Yes, he's obsessed with taking care of everyone, but… It's more like… a habit. I don't know… or… unfulfilled desire… Projection, maybe?… No one cared about him, so he's doing this for others?........

Kate was more honest when Vivi asked her the same question. She said that despite the fact she had seen many very strange expressions of love today… and she began to understand the difficulties associated with spending her life with one person, but…

It's a very sweet dream… And look at him… he fully shares her dream. But he decided to NOT said it out loud and pretend to be a clown again. Sad…

Don't talk like it's not going to be you or… to be completely honest… already you.

In the epilogue, she thought that she wants Vivi to love her, and the way her heart stops all the time is a great hint of this as well. SO… we are already in the middle of his route. BUT it hasn't been released yet. The paradox.

I will only mention this from the epilogue…

Now I'm curious to see…

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

🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

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

[onehundredthousandflies]

(De)Compression

Spencer x gn!autistic!Reader (use of y/n)

Words: 2,080

Summary: Spencer comes home from work find gn!autistic!Reader going through an overstimulation meltdown from a difficult day at your own job. With an abundance of patience and love, he helps you calm down.... by laying on top of you.

CW: unspecified timeline, no series spoilers, Reader is not described other than having hair, Vague mentions of sex, nonsexual intimacy, Reader has an autistic meltdown and temporarily goes nonverbal, Spencer redirects Reader's potentially self-harming stim, Spencer uses body contact preasure therapy on Reader

Not all autistic people are going to relate to this. Not all autistic people have nonverbal episodes, have meltdowns in this manner, or stim this way. I do, though. This is the most self-indulgent fic to have ever self indulged. Reader is me, and I want Spencer to squish the anxiety out of me with his body.

Click the Read More or read on A03.

The red Persian rug in Spencer's apartment had probably been through a lot. With the way you paced erratically up and down your boyfriend's living room, however, you were certainly putting its durability to the test. His downstairs neighbors were probably concerned if, of course, they could hear your distressed hums and the sound of your hands repeatedly slapping against your thighs as you stomped across the floor. The fact that you were probably leaving bruises on yourself was the farthest thing from your mind.

You looked at the clock on the wall. 5:15.

Please come home, Spencer was all you could manage to think at the moment.  When you'd first gotten off of work, your only wish was to be alone in silence, away from the stresses of the overwhelming sights and sounds of your job.  But now, every moment you were left with your own thoughts was a moment that made your nerves hum and tingle even more loudly than the moment before.

You looked at the clock again, feeling as though it must have been at least half an hour since you last checked the time.

5:20

You groaned loudly and started scratching the back of your neck, but stopped when you remembered the pained look on Spencer's face last time he’d seen the angry red marks left from the last time you engaged in that particular stimming behavior. You opted instead to flap your hands beside your head, occasionally running your hand across your face as you continued to pace back and forth.

You knew he would be home soon. After a string of particularly grueling cases, Spencer's unit had been promised by the section chief that they would have the rest of the regular business week to stay at the BAU and catch up on reports. But your mind had a tendency to catastrophize against your will, especially on days like today where the very existence of the universe overwhelmed your every sense.

What if he'd been called away to some city across the country? What if it was another bad case like the last one, where it had taken them an entire week to hunt down a religious fanatic serial arsonist? What if he got hurt or held hostage or abducted again? What if...

You froze when you heard familiar footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping just outside the door.  You heard keys jingling and Spencer muttering something to himself.  You couldn't make out the words, but something about his tone seemed off in a way you couldn't discern.

Was he tired?  Was he frustrated?  Would he be upset when he walked throughout the door to find you having a meltdown in his living room when all he probably wanted to do after coming home from a long day was relax?

The thought of Spencer, your sweet, brave, caring, strong, gentle, handsome Spencer being even the slightest bit unhappy with you made your stomach feel like it was falling through the void.  Your hand waiving intensified, and your distressed hums grew louder.

As soon as you saw him, though, his face softened from whatever scowl he'd had before coming inside.  Still, you trembled slightly until he smiled softly.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted while taking off his jacket and satchel bag to hang them on the coatrack by the door.  "Are you okay?"

You rapidly shook your head, and your hand waiving switched to slapping the front of your shoulders in a way you were only vaguely aware was painful.

"No," Spencer's voice was gentle but firm, "Y/N, stop."  He slowly moved your hands away from your body, allowing you to continue to waive them while still holding them.  "You can wave your hands all you need to, but I cannot let you hit yourself."

Eventually, your movements slowed enough that he felt safe releasing your hands, but as soon as he did, your fingers itched from the inside for something tactile.  You needed to touch something, preferably Spencer.

Typically during periods of overstimulation like this, physical touch was off limits; it felt like bugs crawling across your skin, the effects of which could linger for hours and make you shudder whenever you thought about it.  But with Spencer, it was different.  Not only did his touch make you feel safe and grounded, but he knew how to touch you in ways that didn't trigger every emergency alert signal in your nervous system.

You stepped towards him, hands still moving in the air between you, and started softly patting his chest with open palms.

He laughed, but not at you.  It was a warm, welcoming laugh that soothed both your heart and your nerves like sinking into a warm bath.

"What do you need right now, Sweetheart?"

You knew exactly what you needed, but looking for the words and making your voice say them was like playing scrabble and being one letter short of the word you wanted to spell.  So instead of answering verbally, you silently butted your head against Spencer's shoulder, wrapped your arms around his waist, and squeezed.

Spencer squeezed back, not too tightly at first, just testing your tolerance level.  To encourage him, you squeezed tighter, and he responded in kind. 

"Is this what you need?" He asked.  "Or do you need full preasure?"

Still unable to manage a verbal response, you released your hold around him.  You took him by the hand and practically dragged him towards the bedroom.

"Okay," he said, any you could hear the smile in his voice.

Once in the bedroom, you gracelessly flopped onto the bed and laid on your back.  You watched Spencer take off his tie and kick off his shoes, all the while smiling sweetly down at you.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

You nodded in response.  Eager for the weight of his body on yours, you held out your arms and made grabbed at the empty air.

Spencer understood the message and climbed into bed.  He kept his weight off of you at first, hovering over you with his knees between your parted legs and his hands beside your shoulders. 

You giggled at the thought of how intimate this position was, despite the fact that this particular form of intimacy had nothing to do with sex.  Sure, you both enjoyed that aspect of your relationship, but the ritual happening now was far more intimate than that.

"Happy?"  He kept his questions short and pointed: easier for you to process and respond to.

You nodded "yes."

"What do you do if you want me off?"

You reached up and gave his unruly chestnut hair a gentle tug.

Satisfied that the safe signal had been established, he slowly and carefully lowered himself down until the full weight of his body pressed you down into the soft mattress below you.  He firmly pinned your arms to the side with his and turned his head away from you, knowing that his breath on your neck could be uncomfortable.

You closed your eyes and breathed in the familiar comforting scent of the man pressed into to, mentally breaking down each note.  Sandalwood essential oil from his homemade laundry detergent, rosemary and lavender from his organic deodorant, the chemically artificial citrus from the airfreshener at the BAU, printer paper, oversweetened coffee, and something underneath it all that was uniquely and naturally Spencer.  Then, as you breathed out, your breath carried with it all the tension and pent-up nervous energy of the day. 

The steady rhythm of Spencer's heartbeat calmed your own, and your breathing synced up with his.  You inhaled as he exhaled and vice versa, all the while the warmth and weight of his body grounded your mind into a calm and steady hum as opposed to the cacophony of tangled thoughts it had been before Spencer got home.

Comfortable as you were, eventually your chest began to ache and your arms began to feel stiff.  You wriggled one arm out from under Spencer and tugged at his hair.

Silently and without hesitation, he eased himself off of you and settled onto his side facing you.

"Everything okay?"

You nodded and decided to at least try to speak.  "M'okay," You managed to mumble.  "That was nice."

"Good," he said and sat up on the edge of the bed.  "When was the last time you drank water?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but quickly closed it again because you honestly couldn't remember.  On your lunch break, maybe?  You didn't know, but now that Spencer had mentioned it, you did feel quite thirsty.

Spencer teasingly rolled his eyes.  "I'll go get you some.  Do you want ice?"

You shook your head and watched him leave the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

With Spencer out of the room, you instantly felt restless again.  Needing something to occupy you, you got up and picked up Spencer's disguarded tie, royal purple with lavender pinstripes, from the top of the dresser where he'd left it.  You hung it up on the proper tie hanger in the closet, making sure it went with the other purple ones.  You let your fingers linger on the fabric, enjoying the cool, smooth sensation of the silk against your skin. 

You got so fixated on the fabric texture that you almost didn't notice Spencer returning with a glass of water.

You smiled as he handed it to you, and you drank nearly half of it before stopping.

"You know," Spencer said, taking the cup and setting it down on the end table on your side of the bed, "dehydration can lead to irritability, fatigue, emotional disregulation, and impaired cognitive functions such as concentration and working memory. Sensory overstimulation already causes these problems in people with autism, which means when you don't drink enough water, you're only compounding the issue."

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, wincing slightly as you agitated the scratch you'd made there earlier.  "I know.  I'm sorry."

"I'm not upset," he assured you, and kissed your forehead.  "I know it's not always something you can control.  For now, why don't you lay back down?  I'll join you in a minute and we can rest for a while before we start on dinner, okay?"

Once again, you only nodded.  Words were still difficult, and he seemed to understand. 

He undressed down to his dark blue boxer-briefs while you got comfortable in bed.

"So what was the trigger today?" He asked as he pulled a tshirt and pair of plaid pajama pants from the dresser drawers.

You groaned into the pillow at the memory.  "One of my coworkers touched my arm which already had me on edge.  Then there was a fire alarm test and I guess I must have missed the warning announcement, because I wasn't expecting it.  My boss had me finishing a time-sensitive project, so I couldn't take a break to decompress. I had to mask for two whole hours even before the crowded, loud, smelly buss home made it worse."

Spencer listened intently to you account of your day while he dressed.  He was now wearing one of your favorites among his science joke tshirts.  It had a cartoonish picture of a beaker of water with arms and legs lifting dumbells with the text, "Why did the acidic water get a gym membership?  It wanted to be a buffer solution."

"I'm sorry that happened, Sweetheart," he said, climbing into bed next to you.  He didn't reach out for you at first.  Instead, he waited for you to initiate.  You rolled over and curled into him, and only then did he let his arm drape loosely over your waist.

"So what happened at the BAU today?" You asked.  "You were grumbling about something when you got home."

Spencer let out an exasperated sigh.  "Another team broke protocol during a takedown, which resulted in a hostage being injured.  Now everyone's takedown reports dating back for a month are being scrutinized, and several reports from my team had to be re-submitted."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, but I'm not worried about that right now.  I just want to lay here with you and relax."

You nuzzled into his chest and again took comfort in the feeling of his heartbeat.  "Me too."

The two of you laid there in comfortable silence until you decided to order in instead of cooking.  And if you took an accidental nap while waiting for dinner to arrive, Spencer never said so.

[cheralith]

omg i really love your slytherin!kaiser au. !!!! your writing is so good !! 😋 i was wondering if you would do any other characters for this type of au if so could you do karasu hp au 🫡😈

character ; karasu tabito || wc ; 931 contains/cw ; gn!reader, no pronouns used, ravenclaw!reader, ravenclaw!karasu, hogwarts!au a/n ; this was sitting in my inbox for awhile and i honestly didn't really know what to write abt despite wanting to, so hope this is ok! another person added to the harem (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

karasu has always been a rather fascinating character to me personally; dare i say he's very relatable in terms of how he finds himself mediocre? so he gets very confused as to why he's sorted into ravenclaw when he first comes to hogwarts, the house known for producing the most extraordinary wizards because he doesn't think of himself as such. he thinks he's a fraud.

it doesn't help that such a mentality worsens over the years. he excels at his subjects, yes, but amongst the house that many of its students at the top ranks of their classes, karasu merely blends in with the rest of them. there's nothing outstanding about him in particular that makes him stand out from the rest of his house.

so he attempts to search for a way. quidditch catches his eye because of the fact that in all the houses, there are only seven people on a team and he thinks by being one of those seven, he'd be able to stand out from the house of three hundred-something people. he tries out in his third year and doesn't make the cut and it discourages him from trying again in his fourth because if he can't even stand out in tryouts, how the hell was he suppose to make a name for himself if he'd ever make the team?

what makes him destroy that mentality is when he meets you. early in the fifth year, you're in his group for care of magical creatures, where you pick up on his ability to tame animals just by knowing their weaker, vulnerable points. tells you to press on the side of a hippogriff's neck to help calm it down when he sees your tense on your first ride and that the beast could sense it.

you're discussing about the most recent loss ravenclaw incurred from slytherin during a class break, karasu listening intently. you complain that their newest chaser, chigiri hyoma, was an insane weapon on the field, for his speed was incomparable to the others on your own team and what you've seen in the past.

karasu, who was watching the game at the time, tells you that you should've been more perceptive, that you're the upcoming captain, aren't you?

when you furrow your brows and question what he means by that, disapproving of his tone, he merely tells you that you missed a crucial point in the game that would've obliterated slytherin's newest weapon. that chigiri hyoma can't ride for long periods of time since it puts a strain on his back that he suffered an injury on awhile back due to the resisting air pressure.

"yeah, sure, he can definitely fly fast," he says, waving a nonchalant hand, "but he can only do it when he's about t'score a goal. if y'were able to pick that up earlier, ya could've made sure that he exhausted himself faster."

karasu notices your wide-eyed staring after he finishes his ramble of possible tactics you guys should've done against the other players, pointing out some of their key weaknesses. he asks you harshly, "what?" and despite his sharp tone, your eyes just continue sparkling at him.

"have you ever thought about trying out for the team?" you ask him excitedly.

he frowns and picks at his fingernails, head down in shame. "tried to. in my third year," he mutters. "didn't get in."

"well," you start giddily, thinking you found a diamond in the rough. "one of our old beaters had to step down due to an injury... we're hosting tryouts soon for his replacement."

karasu catches your drift and is quick to turn it down, not wanting to embarrass himself like last time. "no thanks. i'm good."

"but!" you protest, "we could use someone like you. someone who's really analytical. all of us are a lot stronger on a physical sense, but you seem to really have the nail on the head of our opponents. imagine what you could do!"

"... i don't have much experience playin' quidditch," he admits, scratching the back of his heating neck, "i don't think i'd be able to do well as the others."

you bite your lip, trying to think of what to say to him. you suddenly think of a plan that may be just a tad bit unfair to the others that would want to try out, but you think karasu could really be an amazing addition to the team with analytical skills that could compare to a familiar prodigal redhead's.

"i probably shouldn't be doing this but," you beckon him with your hand and whisper into his ear, "i could practice with you. just so you can get a solid grip on the play."

he thinks despite the colder weather, he's heating up a little too fast for his sake when your voice sends shivers down his spine.

you pull back with an excited smile on your face as the professor tells everyone to gather together again.

"i'm serious, think about it," you say to him as you begin to walk off to join some other friends of yours. "we'd love to have someone as extraordinary as you on the team."

you throw him a thumbs up just before you run off, leaving karasu dazed with your voice echoing the one word he's been desiring to attain the status of for years now in his mind.

"extraordinary, huh..." he murmurs with a soft grin, staring at the back of your figure when you chat and laugh amongst your friends. "someone like you sayin' that to someone like me... that's pretty funny."

[buckydeservesthebest]

Yeah, I understand the huge confusion and inconsistency within the script itself. If there are already a lot of plot holes within the plot itself, now in the story of Bucky who no Marvel executive is really fond of… 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I agree that perhaps more than remembering the faces of all the people he was forced to kill, Bucky most likely remembered the Starks *after* watching the tape and *not* before. It is curious because it is clear that the VHS tape has no recorded sound, we don't hear the car crash nor the WS motorcycle, so that just means that what we are hearing is a flashback that Bucky is having right at that moment. I think this may be associative memory, that is, memories that manifest once an external stimulus related to that event is experienced.

Being honest, the first time I watched CW, before even thinking about whether Bucky actually remembered all the people he was forced to kill or not, I always thought that the line “I remember all of them” came more from guilt over the fact that Bucky knew he was used to hurt a lot of people, and not so much from the fact that he actually remembers all of that as such...

By the way, I find it interesting that the voices of the Starks sound like a recording, maybe it is to give the idea that we are hearing them from the tape, but again, the tape does NOT record sounds, so we can only conclude that we are watching a flashback of Bucky. Does it mean that this is how the WS hears and perceives everything? With an undercurrent of static? It's interesting because Shuri also describes the mind control Bucky was subjected to as a kind of static in the hemispheres of his brain. So this further reinforces the idea that not only did Bucky not exist as the Winter Soldier, but that the WS was all the while in a state of near unconsciousness all the time, or rather the little consciousness a person has while sleeping in REM sleep...

As you rightly say, it is somewhat complicated to say what the Winter Soldier can remember (or is allowed to remember) and what he cannot. Just as he couldn't remember Steve from his first mission in the Fury assassination, nor Natasha, Sam, etc. But he does retain memory of, for example, some skills he learned as the Winter Soldier, such as the Russian language, handling certain weapons, etc.

Well… studying a neuroscience course recently (thanks to Bucky) gave me a little insight into certain interesting things, for example like the fact that according to The Wakanda Files, Shuri says that the Winter Soldier's program is a REM sleep trance, a sort of sleepwalking in which the Winter Soldier experiences REM sleep while awake. That is, once the mind control is in use, the Winter Soldier has the brain activity of a person having REM sleep. And interestingly, this mental state is the most efficient for the brain to store and apprehend information. So if we take into consideration that Bucky would never have cooperated with Hydra to be trained as one of their agents, all the WS training would have to have occurred only when the mind control was already taken over by the WS, i.e., in the REM sleep trance. Meaning that the Winter Soldier learned in an analogous way that people who wear headphones while sleeping learn X information (such as a language), in a state not conscious but unconscious.

Interestingly, the amnesia that Bucky suffers from, anterograde, dissociative (produced by a mental health related cause, and can be triggered by traumatic events, abuse and other serious sources of psychological distress) and neurological (caused by brain damage), does not usually affect procedural memory (information about motor and executive skills), just as a person with global amnesia does not necessarily forget how to ride a bicycle. Or for example in the case of dissociative amnesia of someone who had an accident in an elevator, they forget the accident itself but do not forget to watch out for elevators.

Bucky's situation with the ETC that caused extensive brain damage, and C-PTSD, makes it really complex to be able to say precisely when he can remember something and when he cannot…

So my theory is that I totally share the idea that the Winter Soldier retains no memory other than procedural memory (that of motor and executive skills, which functions more at an unconscious level compared to the other types of memory), and not any episodic memory. That's why I believe that if he couldn't remember Steve from a previous mission, in which there were no intermediate ETC sessions, there would be no way he could remember the other WS.

I wouldn't necessarily say that the Winter Soldier remembers the period between missions as such, but rather that recognizing the whole process of being subjected to ETC is more muscle memory than anything else, and part of the programming that forces him to obey whatever his handler orders him to do.

My theory is that the Winter Soldier only follows the orders of whoever uttered the code words, just as in CW we saw him follow orders only from Karpov and not from any other Hydra agent, or just as Pierce was the only one seen giving him orders. as well as Zemo.

I think there is a reference to this in TFATWS when Zemo told Selbie that he would give her the code to control Bucky and he would do anything she wants (please, let's ignore for a moment the disgusting backstory of what that could have meant... ughh). I think if it was known that the Winter Soldier only serves Hydra, there would have been a mention that no one but a Hydra agent could make use of him.

(Yes, I'm fully aware that Spellman is totally ignorant of Bucky's history, I mean, he himself admitted that he only watched CW and EG to write the TFATWS script. But unfortunately, all the change to the known canon of Bucky, like the fact that WS wasn't active until the 1960s, so that it's now since 1951, now exists, and unfortunately we can't change it...)

Personally I do consider the tie-in books canonical, because they are all written by members of the production itself, and many times they explain certain concepts or ideas that were part of the movies or TV shows, but which we didn't realize (for example, Bucky's restraint chair in CW was constantly electrocuting him to prevent him from using his metal arm… horrible… I know…)

Of course I always take into consideration the opinions of the actors because at the end of the day, they are the ones playing the characters, especially Seb who no doubt holds Bucky in high regard. But there have been a couple of occasions where even his opinion has struck me as inconsistent with Bucky as a character, like recently in some of his interviews for Thunderbolts, he has called Bucky “anti-hero” or “antagonist”, when well… this is not true...

So, my real final theory is that Bucky only remembers (maybe not all, but a considerable amount) the faces of the people he was forced to kill as the Winter Soldier, or maybe some other vague details, but not in a lucid way but rather in the same way you remember a dream (or rather a nightmare), as a fuzzy and confused memory. And well, if we remember that all the Winter Soldier's programming is as REM sleep trance state… then I guess this makes sense…

In fact at one time, Seb also made a comment about Bucky's experience being like waking up from a dream…

Or well, if we don't get technical, and take the line “all of them” to mean not literally 'all of them', but everyone (many or few) that Bucky could vaguely remember at the time, then what Seb said wouldn't be technically incorrect either... 😬

“That line was an interesting moment. At the time, the choice I was making is that [Bucky] had realized there was no way he was getting out of there, and someone was gonna die, whether it was gonna be him, Steve or Tony. When he says that line, to me, it was a turning point — he was, like, ‘Okay, I know what you want me to say, and I’m just gonna say it.’ When someone comes at you over and over again, and they can’t hear you, they can’t see you’re pleading with them, you’re trying to figure out how to get through to them and they just won’t accept it, at some point you just give in, and you go, ‘that’s right, that’s what you want.’ Of course [Bucky] didn’t remember them all.” —  Sebastian Stan

[velvetvexations]

I just saw a post that was like “I want to skin all men alive, and I’m only partially joking lol.” And this was in the context of misinformation around pop history of Venus statues being an erotic image/porn for men. And like I understand the frustration around pop history, especially this, but like I legitimately I don’t think fucking skinning people is going to help people stop spreading misinformation. Also forgive me for saying this I don’t think this is entirely the entire gender category of “men’s” fault for this piece of this information and if it was, I don’t think this is an appropriate punishment for it. Something something sins of the father mass punishment is bad. Like it’s complicated in my brain’s way too zooted out to talk about this further in depth. But like, forgive me when I say that I’m really uncomfortable when people say shit like this and label it feminism, I don’t like my progressive messaging to be filled with threats of death and torture, especially as a torture victim. 

Like I keep wanting to play it off and making it seem like it actually isn’t that bad of a thing to say and that I am at fault for being uncomfortable. And then I realize again they’re talking about skinning people alive and that’s what’s making me uncomfortable especially in relation to progressivism. I would ask when progressive spaces got like this, but in reality they always were, it just got a lot easier to see because of the Internet.

I say a lot how I used to be totally onboard the Down With Cis bus, but people trying vainly to LARP their imagined stereotype of a cool radical edgy activist have reduced all their actual activism to mindless hostility that still doesn't touch the people who are actually oppressing others, because it feels most good when you're aiming it at another marginalized group that'll actually be hurt by it.

Like, imagine thinking any of this is transfeminism:

This is what "transfemminism" boils down to for a lot of people on this website. It's just constant, misdirected anger. They will never actually contribute to anything positive, just yelling shit like this in an echochamber for all time, and patting themselves on the back for being on the frontlines of an imaginary revolution. They've copied complicated terms to disguise it, but they know nothing, do nothing, and say nothing but a constant barrage of hostility towards people just as oppressed as them because they make for easier targets.

Like, hey, can someone tell me the number of times any of these people have argued with TERFs? Are any of them on TERF blocklists like I am? Have TERFs ever gone after them personally like they have me? All the harassment they talk about is almost exclusively made up of people pointing out when they said really horrific shit, as though they could not have simply avoided saying shit like this while transmascs are routinely murdered and sexually assaulted at the same rates as trans women:

Genuinely, this is all there is to it. They do this everyday non-stop because it's the only activism they're interested in. It's lazy, it's cheap, and they think they can get away with it by going "but trans men are men and men are the oppressors" because they can't comprehend more than two ideas at once.

Like, yeah, well, trans women are women, so I guess they have all the privilage of cis women too, right? Shut down all the transmisogyny discussion, transmisogyny doesn't exist because if it does you're implying trans women are different than cis women, and who would do that? You're not a TERF, are you?

[bvidzsoo]

Chasing your shadows

𓍼 Cherry Blossom, March Event 𓍼

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Outlaw!Kim Hongjoong x Bounty hunter!reader

𓍼 Warning: cursing, violence, guns, mentions of past abuse, slight sexism and misogyny 𓍼 Word count: 11k 𓍼 Rating: nc-17 𓍼 Genre: fluff, soulmates: each day on your arm is a particular event your soulmate will face today (ex. promotion, family death, new pet etc.), outlaw x bounty hunter, Wild West AU, enemies to lovers 𓍼 Summary: What was supposed to be a wild chase after a bounty you had your eyes set on for years now, turns into a life changing event. You had always known your soulmate was never up to any good thanks to the words inked on your inner forearm ever since you were five years old, but you hadn't expected him to be the biggest menace known to the state...or the man you had been relentlessly chasing, trying to catch for the hefty reward promised.

A/N: Hello, my lovelies!! The first drabble of the series is here, ack, I'm so excited to hear your thoughts about all of the drabbles. I'd like to think we had pretty original ideas and tried to write as fluffy stories as possible lol. I don't think I have much to yap about right now, but I'll let you know that I'm obsessed with cowboy/wild west AUs (especially Bouncy era, how can one be over that?? I even went to the concert as a Sheriff(-ish) lol). I hope you enjoy the story and let me know what you thought of it, feedback always feels really nice! Enjoy! ^^ (as a second thought, based on the characters in this story...should I write a Yungi spin-off?? lol, I cannot be helped at this point...) divider @cromernet

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@justconniez @ateezswonderland

                        The earth was still scorching hot even with the merciless sun finally taking its departure for the day, soon to be replaced by the moon, which had more mercy for us mere humans. The nights weren’t cool, but at least the breeze managed to move the otherwise choking hot air that persisted during the day, forcing everyone to sweat immensely. Your thighs were burning, and your hands were sweaty despite you rubbing them off on your pants every now and then, and your stomach growled at the first sight of buildings. You had finally reached the next bigger town. You knew you could do it, but Sheriff Jeong had tried talking you out of it earlier this morning. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in your skills; it’s that he saw you as his little sister and was worried about you. You’ve known each other for many years now, and if it weren’t for his trust and respect for you, you most probably wouldn’t be here now.

Your horse slowed to a strut, no doubt just as thirsty and hungry as you were. You had given him your last three apples hours ago when you had stopped for a little breather under the shade of a lonely tree, not a soul in sight. That’s how most of your adventures went like, it was you and Carlos, your most trusted ally. He was a gorgeous horse, standing taller than any other horse you had known, its ears long and sharp, eyes round and observant, and its feet strong and quick. He was still young, so he was in good shape, and while you could say that about Carlos, your own bones couldn’t relate to that statement. You’d soon be hitting thirty, a prime age for people in these times, and if it wasn’t your body asking you to be kinder to it, then it was Sheriff Jeong reminding you of it continuously. He had it easy, though; he had a loving woman waiting for him at home at the end of each day, cooking him his favourite dishes and running a bath for him. You…you had no one waiting for you in the small cabin you had claimed as yours years ago once you’ve had enough of your father’s abuse. He didn’t let you have anything, not even the little money you saved up by working ungodly hours at the Inn, cleaning up piss and vomit, smiling to sleazy men while delivering their beers to their dirty tables. And then your mother got sick, and you realised she wouldn’t make it if you didn’t make enough money.

In the end, it didn’t matter how much money you had earned for her to get the best treatment, she was gone in under three months. It was then that you decided you didn’t want to live in a house where your father didn’t bother to do anything for himself, taking whatever he could that you had claimed as yours. He was a homeless man now; you’ve seen him around the Townsquare at times, begging for change or a loaf of bread. You didn’t pity him, you just hoped your mother wasn’t disappointed that you had left him behind with nothing but the disgrace that he was. Your eyes surveyed the quiet town as Carlos took the two of you further inside. Older men stood on their porches smoking tobacco they could barely afford. You’ve always found it pathetic when the poor flaunted the wealth they never had, hence why there was nothing to you that you could brag about. Carlos neighed loudly and abruptly stopped, yanking its head low and making you lean over since your fingers were tightly twisted into the reign.

“What is it, handsome?” You whispered as you leaned towards your horse's ear, smiling fondly as you patted its cheek, “Tired? Come on, just a bit more.”

But Carlos just neighed loudly again, turning the heads of those walking past you. The lady had a basket filled with goods, a young boy latched onto her ragged skirt, curious round eyes looking up at you. You paid them no mind as you tried to get Carlos moving again, but your horse was even more stubborn than you and wouldn’t budge. You groaned and threw a leg over the saddle, jumping down with practised ease. The young boy was still looking at you as you patted your horse's rear, tutting your tongue as you tried to get Carlos moving again. Maybe if he saw you walking, he’d get to it too.

“Missy!” A high-pitched voice called out, making your head turn, “Are you new in town?”

“Indeed, I am.” You answered the boy as he and the lady had stopped walking now, both of their eyes filled with curiosity, “Tell me, boy, is any Inn close by?”

It was the lady speaking up, her eyes looking past you, her free hand pointing forward, “See that grand building? Go past it, and you’ll find one half its size; they might have a few free rooms.”

“Many newcomers?” You quirked an eyebrow, prodding without being too obvious. You were here with a purpose, after all, but you couldn’t let anyone know your true intentions just yet.

“Heard some men galloping in last night.” The lady shrugged, grabbing the boy’s hand into hers, “Didn’t look too nice or kind, keep safe, Missy.”

“You too.” You grabbed the front of your cowboy hat and gently lowered it in a respectful greeting. The boy grinned and waved before he was ushered forward, the lady tugging him after herself since he was still gazing at your gorgeous horse. You smiled and walked in front of Carlos, throwing him an amused look, “You heard that, princess? Think you can walk for another five minutes?”

As if you were understood by the horse, it neighed and surged forward, walking ahead of you as you chuckled and shook your head, playfully slapping its rear and making it huff as you decided to follow your horse on feet; you needed the movement. Your lower back and thighs were stiff, neck aching from the rigid position you’ve had to keep while riding all day long. Your throat was parched, and you couldn’t wait to wolf down a jug of water—or beer—but what you wanted the most was to throw yourself in a bathtub filled with lukewarm water and let your muscles melt into it.

As the lady had said, the Inn was half the size of the grand house—a mansion, you came to realise, looking unoccupied at the moment—and it was just like any other Inn you’ve had the pleasure of staying in. The structure looked old and was not in the best condition as you walked around it, trying to find a stable. A boy, around fifteen, seemed to be dozed off as he sat on a hay, a long string of grass falling out of his mouth as he was leaning against the stable door. You chuckled and then cleared your throat, making the boy jump up with heavy eyes.

“Yes?! I am on it!” You raised an eyebrow as you watched the boy fumble around himself without doing anything, and then he froze, slowly looking up at you, “Oh, I didn’t—that’s a gorgeous horse!”

“Think you can keep him safe for me?” You quirked an eyebrow with a grin on your lips, patting Carlos’ cheek. The boy’s eyes went wide as he nodded eagerly, righting his posture and tapping his dirty clothes down.

“Yes, ma’am!” He called loudly, holding his chin high. You smirked, holding the reins out to him.

“Is the Inn full? Got many people in town?” Perhaps the stable boy knew more than the previous lady and child.

“Seven men came in hours ago, ma’am, but the Inn still has some rooms available.” Seven men, he’d said, perhaps you really were in the right place. You smirked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Perfect, I’ll pay you tomorrow, sound good?” You untied your bag from the backside of the saddle, throwing it around your shoulder, “And not a word to anyone that I’m here, am I clear?”

“Can I ride him?” The stable boy asked as he opened the door, staring with yearning eyes at Carlos.

“Keep my secret, and we’ll see.” You winked, grabbing a slightly melted lollipop from your pocket to toss it at the boy. His eyes glinted as he caught it, veering Carlos inside the stable after him, “Feed him well, my boy is famished and thirsty!”

“Yes, ma’am!” And then you were off to the Inn, smirking to yourself at the presence of six horses inside the stable. So, the gang was here…all you had to do was find them. The town wasn’t as big as the last one you had trailed the outlaws in, you had a feeling you’d finally find him here. It was a feeling you couldn’t explain, but you felt it deep in your stomach like when you were famished.

The Inn had yet to be filled with patrons, but the early birds were already here, downing their beer like it was water, talking loudly for no reason. The woman behind the counter looked sickly and tired, but she still smiled at you when she saw you. You sauntered over, tipping your cowboy hat in a greeting before you took it off, the air feeling cool against your heated hair, “Got a room for me, pretty?”

The girl’s smile widened as she turned, grabbed a key off the wall, and then faced you again, “Ten pennies.”

You laughed, but you were already undoing your satchel tied to your waist, “Isn’t that too much, sweetheart?”

“Aren’t you staying for three days?” She quirked an eyebrow, leaning against the counter and exposing her already visible cleavage. You huffed down another laugh, enjoying the banter as you leaned in just for the fun of it.

“You know where to find me if you need me.” The woman giggled then, letting you take the keys as ten pennies landed on the counter. You wouldn’t try and bargain your way for a lower price since Sheriff Jeong was gracious with the payment before you left on your little hunt. Your satchel was filled with pennies, and you’d have even more by the time you reached your good old town again, “Get me a drink too, I’m thirsty. On the house?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed at your playfulness as you took a seat on a stool, feeling eyes on your back. It wasn’t often that people encountered a woman dressed as a cowboy, the silver pistol with black engravings strapped to your outer thigh rather visible to anyone. What was also rare was a female bounty hunter. Sheriff Jeong took plenty of convincing to finally accept your pleas to send you out on a wild chase, then shocked, but pleased, at your return with the criminal in your hands. The officers had been trying to catch the man for years, and you managed to do it in merely two days. You were a prideful woman, proud of your accomplishments and unafraid to boast about them to men who look at you with little regard and respect. You’d spit in their face and then take them in a gunfight anytime, you knew who’d come out as the winner. There is a reason why Sheriff Jeong places so much trust in you. You’ve never failed him before, and you wouldn’t start now. You smiled as the woman pushed a pint of cold beer towards you, winking as she said, ‘on the house’. With a chuckle, you grabbed the handle of the pint and raised the heavy glass to your lips to finally quench your thirst. You didn’t stop until you had drunk half of it, your throat burning in a good way, the cold extinguishing the fire you felt inside your body. A shiver ran down your back as you slammed the pint back onto the wooden counter, letting out a satisfied sound as you nodded in appreciation. The beer was delicious, or maybe you were just too thirsty.

You hadn’t noticed the man who had taken the stool to your right, leaving one empty between the two of you, but you now felt his sharp gaze on the side of your face, “I’ve never seen a woman wolf down beer that fast.”

You huffed, turning your head to give the man a look. You hadn’t expected him to be so tall with short dark hair and sharp features, his heavily lidded eyes dark and staring sharply at you. His nose was long and his lips were plump, his skin tan, and his face covered by little blemishes and scars. His dark brown leather vest clung to his toned torso like a second skin, showing off his bare arms, his biceps bulging, his shoulders wide and menacing. Much like you, he had a pistol sheathed at the waist, which was small with his leather pants clinging to it tightly, his thighs thick. You wondered how he survived the heat in a full leather-clad outfit, but you weren’t here to find out.

“Intimidated?” You smirked, throwing back the rest of the beer and barely suppressing a loud burp. It was good, you deserved it after the long day you’d had under the hot sun burning your skin, the dust making your lungs ache since you hadn’t worn your scarf for protection. The man laughed, its sound rich and amused, deep like his voice.

“Maybe if you down two more of those, yeah.” His cowboy hat was placed on the dirty counter much like yours, and you hummed, standing up.

“Gotta pass on this one, cowboy. I’ve had a long day.” You winked at him as you grabbed your hat, setting it back on your head with ease. It had been worn for way too long, and it was visible, but you didn’t want to part with it until it hadn’t disintegrated into nothing.

“You a newcomer?” He questioned as he nursed his drink, something darker than your beer, most probably Whiskey. He didn’t look rich, but if his leather gear didn’t scream money, then the expensive drink did.

“And you?” Answering a question with a question was always the way to go when you hoped to pry out information from others. If this pretty man was just a dumb boy, he’d fall for it easily. But maybe you had underestimated him as he smirked, chuckling behind his glass of alcohol.

“Had a long day, too.” Then he tipped his drink back, rasping his knuckles against the counter to ask for a refill, “Rest easy tonight.”

“You too, cowboy.” The man seemed to like being called that as he bit his bottom lip, his eyes taking your form in. You weren’t here for him or to have fun that could potentially distract you, so you took your leave before he could try and hold you back with more useless chit-chat. But your eyes strayed towards his inner forearm as he raised his hand to wave you away jokingly, the bold letters exposed and looking like he had tried tempering with them. He wouldn’t be the first person to do that. Sheriff Jeong’s supposed soulmate refused to look at the words on her inner forearm after finding him, cutting into her skin, and refusing to admit that perhaps something was amiss. But who were you to judge since you knew your soulmate was far from being a good man? You’ve been reading the events inked under your skin that would occur to him ever since you could read, and he’s never once been up to anything good. You found it peculiar what the words on the cowboy’s forearm said, seeing the bounty hunter off on a day like today. You didn’t mean to think of Sheriff Jeong, but that’s exactly what he had done earlier this morning…seeing you off and wishing you luck for your long and dangerous journey.

The stairs felt a bit uneasy underneath your boots as you made your way upstairs, the Inn filling out with more patrons now that the sky had significantly darkened outside. Your room was towards the end of the hallway, and as you pushed the door open to step inside, the one across from yours opened. The man stepping outside wasn’t too tall, his hat tipped so low you could only see his red lips. You paid him no mind as you slammed your door shut and locked it, making sure to keep out any unwanted guests. It wouldn’t be the first time a man felt entitled enough to try and let himself into your room without your permission, promising you foolishly sweet nothings that ended in a beating he’d never forget.

The room was dingy and small, just like any other room at any Inn, and you let your things fall to the wooden floor as you walked towards the windows to push them open, closing your eyes as you were met with the cooling temperature of the evening. You leaned over the windowsill and inhaled deeply, relishing in the moment of quietness and allowing your muscles to ease up, your mind silent for the first time today. Then, you slowly stepped out of your boots and walked towards your bed, peeling off your clothing one by one until you stood naked, groaning at the feeling of nothingness on your skin. It felt like heaven peeling off the sweat-clad clothes, untying your long hair and massaging your scalp as you walked towards the bathroom attached to the room. You were lucky you didn’t have to share it with the others staying at the Inn. You let the water run as you sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring down at your inner forearm. The ink was black and thick, bold letters not too large, staring back up at you. Bar fight was carved under your skin, and you couldn’t help but feel unimpressed. Your soulmate could do something more impressive. Not even three months ago, he hijacked a train and robbed the rich. Coincidentally, days later, it was discovered that it was the outlaw gang you’ve been following for years now, the seven men who had been terrorising the Southern parts of your state.

Knowing you could run out of water anytime now, you quickly got into the bathtub and stood under the spray of lukewarm water, sighing in relief as all the grime was finally washed off your body. The first loud noise got your eyebrows furrowing, but then shouts followed until you could hear glass breaking and manly voices shouting intangible things. You chuckled as you washed your hair out, feeling the need to refresh it. Drunk men were so simple, one wrong look would result in a stand-off, and you could only hope the pretty woman behind the counter wouldn’t get injured in the bar fight downstairs.

            There was nothing better than waking up to complete silence, with the occasional rooster crowing and horses neighing in the distance. But that was back in your town, where you could sleep in unless Sheriff Jeong needed you. The wicked didn’t rest, therefore, you were up before the sun could even rise, sauntering down to the bar. The pretty lady was gone from behind the counter, now replaced by a tall and muscular man, his eyes sharp like knives and rather judgemental. He had given you a one-over before rolling his eyes and knocking on the small window you’d failed to notice last night. Ten minutes later, a sloppy breakfast was pushed in front of you. Some sunny side-ups paired with a rather sad-looking salad—which you were sure was slowly starting to rot away—but food was food. If they didn’t charge you extra, you’d try your luck and ask for a cup of coffee too…if they served fancy stuff like that here. As you ate your breakfast, you subtly surveyed the place, looking for the handsome man from last night. He wasn’t here, not that you had expected him to be, and the bar looked like it went through a rough night. But given the fact that there was a bar fight just a few hours ago, you figured nobody bothered to clean it up since it would end up looking like that again soon.

Having finished your breakfast, you were ready to scoop out the town to get to know the way things worked here and get some intel on the residents and newcomers. Getting information like that was always easy if you played the confused and lost little damsel in distress; men were pathetically desperate to help out any woman who looked at them for long enough. It was hilarious, you tried to keep your grin off your face as the man leaning against the Bank’s wall spoke slowly on purpose, his expression feigning fake worry for your safety.

“Missy, excuse my prodding, you’ve been saying you’re here alone?” An eyebrow arched in your direction, and you smirked, tilting your head.

“Why, sir? Would you like to accompany me?” A trick question, but it always worked getting them off your back.

“Well, since missy seems so lonely and scared—”

You didn’t care for what he had to say, so you didn’t let him finish, “I’m afraid the handsome fella who travels with me wouldn’t be too keen on me bringing a stranger inside our shared room…”

The man paused, his eyebrows furrowing deeply as he looked at you with a new glint in his eyes. Anger. Your smirk grew as you pulled your shoulders back, slapping your cowboy hat back on. Your job here was done with this man.

“Have a lovely day, sir, may we never meet again.” You chuckled under your breath as you tipped your hat in his direction, then quickly left the narrow alleyway before he got any idea on how to make you stay there with him for longer. He wouldn’t be the last nor the first one; men around these towns were desperate for something ‘fresh’. They couldn’t wait to cheat on their wives with whoever rolled into town, even if for a remotely short period. You found your feet taking you further inside the city. Carlos would rest today and hopefully tomorrow, too, if you deemed this town useful of any sort.

You couldn’t tell whether you were in the right place just yet…but there it was that gut feeling again, still persistent to the point there was a buzzing too in your ears. It felt like your inner forearm was suddenly on fire; the words were hidden underneath a scarf you had purposefully wrapped around your naked skin to hide the words petty theft. It was unsurprising that your soulmate was trying his luck yet another time at something that could land him behind bars. The words thrown in prison were yet to be marked underneath your skin, so whoever this criminal was, he was good at whatever he did. You wondered if he’d soon run out of luck, your mind taking you places. How amusing it would be if you were the one to catch him, the thought that he was on the wanted list you were hunting through has crossed your mind more than once before. You couldn’t help but laugh it off every time, especially if Sheriff Jeong was entertaining that thought. Not that he was so much better off…the sole reason why you knew his pretty partner was not his soulmate was because whatever the ink on Jeong Yunho’s forearm said had never been the one his girl was up to that day. Sheriff Jeong and you were in a rather similar position, but he wasn’t ready to admit that just yet.

The marketplace was loud as you walked through the open wooden gates; the place was filled with people despite it being the early morning. In small towns, everyone rose with the sun and went to bed at the first sighting of the moon, living a healthier and perhaps even longer life than those in the bustling towns, greedy for more than they could ever handle. You surveyed the place, your eyes taking in all the people, the eager vendors standing behind their stands, shouting to gather more attention and more buyers. You recognised a few faces already, people who were kind enough to open their doors for you this morning and have a chit-chat. The lady from yesterday with the little boy stood behind a stall filled with freshly baked goods, and you made a mental note to buy a loaf of bread from her on your way home. Maybe you could take her son to ride Carlos later in the day, it was rather obvious that the little boy badly wished to at least touch your gorgeous companion.

Asking around was never the hardest part of your mission, yet there was one downside to it. People would grow suspicious of you if you didn’t do it smartly, so you decided to ask around the elderly instead of the youth, who could easily accuse you of planning a heist or perhaps even an attack on their otherwise serene town. The old lady you had set your eyes on had a wrinkly face and trembling hands as she sat on a small chair, knitting quietly as she hummed a melody. There weren’t many products on display, but the clothing items she handmade looked rather useful for the hot days these regions faced daily. If the price was good, you’d be walking away with a hand-knitted flowy vest and perhaps even more information that would be highly useful right now. You smiled as you approached the stall, letting your fingers run over the soft fabric of the vest you had set your eyes on.

“Mornin’!” You called cheerily, smiling widely at the old lady as she jumped at your sudden arrival.

“Oh, Saints, that scared me.” She chuckled, letting her handiwork rest in her lap as she returned your wide smile, “Mornin’, dear, you’re new in town. Welcome, what brings you around here?”

Leaning your hip against the wooden table, you decided to slip in a bit of truth, “I’m chasing after someone. I have a hunch they might be right here, but other than that, it’s nice to travel to new parts of the state from time to time.”

The woman hummed, a faraway look crossing her features, “I once had the chance to travel the whole world…but then I fell in love.”

You watched the lady rub her covered forearm, turning her head to look at you with sadness in her eyes, “Did you settle down here?”

The old lady hummed, picking up her handiwork to continue it, “Love can be a beautiful but painful feeling. Are you here on your own? Perhaps you’re chasing your soulmate?”

You scoffed but suddenly felt a weird pang in your gut. Could you be chasing your soulmate? It was possible, but what were the chances…here you were again, entertaining that thought. You shook your head and shrugged, keen on changing the topic of the conversation, “I’m just looking for someone. I doubt they are my soulmate. He’s out there somewhere, wreaking havoc in his wake.”

“Those damn outlaws…” The old lady muttered, and your eyes widened slightly, making you chuckle under your breath. There was something about her demeanour that screamed calmness, her hands looked like they’d been through a lot as they were decorated with scars. You were here to find out more about any suspicious movement, though, so you couldn’t focus on small insignificant details about the people living in this town. It’s not like you’d see them ever again, so what was the point of forming bonds that would dwindle out once you left?

“You know anything about them?” You tried to make your voice sound casual, your bottom lip between your teeth as you averted your eyes when the old lady snorted under her breath.

“Who doesn’t, dear?” The old lady huffed, the look in her eyes fiery as she looked up at you, “They always ruin everything, cause carnage and leave suffering behind. If I could, I would still be catching them, but my old joints barely let me walk, let alone run.”

You couldn’t mask your surprise as your eyes widened a little bit, “Were you a bounty hunter?”

“Not quite,” The lady grinned, averting her eyes as her hands worked diligently on the sleeves of the blouse in her lap, “I helped the Sheriff catch felons a few times, but I was never brave enough to become a bounty hunter. It seemed like too much effort and danger, plus I couldn’t deal with all the mocking that already came due to me working with the Sheriff…”

“Right,” You hissed, venom slipping into your tone, “People are like that, stupid cunts.”

The old lady started laughing loudly, her lips pulled into an amused grin as she looked up at you, shaking her head, “You must hate a lot of people, then.”

You huffed with a nod, not bothering to confirm what she already knew, “Did you notice anyone suspicious coming into town these past days?”

“So, you’re a bounty hunter, then.” The old lady hummed to herself, resting her handiwork in her lap once again, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked off into the distance, “I can’t say, I don’t walk around much, but my nephew told me he’d seen men riding around just by the border as if they were scooping out the place, or something of the likes. There’s nothing much by the borders, so I wouldn’t know why they were there specifically.”

“To check the exits and set up any traps for those who would try and follow.” You smirked, mentally jotting down this new piece of information. This old lady had been more useful in just a few minutes than all the cocky men you had to listen to this morning, trying to woo their way into your pants instead of sharing valuable information.

“Brilliant,” The lady huffed, shaking her head in disdain, “Tell you what, dear…but you didn’t hear it from me, alrigh’?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and then you moved closer as the woman beckoned you to her height with a wave of her hand. Your toes curled, and your heart raced in excitement at the prospect of finding out even more about the possible outlaws residing in the town, and you couldn’t help but quickly crouch down and stare at the lady with sparkling eyes full of curiosity. The old lady chuckled at your behaviour, and you almost flinched when she patted your cheek, her grey eyes running over your features.

“You’re a gorgeous one, dear, take care of yourself,” She hummed, then looked around before she leaned in too, her voice low, “Two days ago, around midnight, I couldn’t sleep, so I went to smoke on the veranda. I live close to the border, and there are few houses around, yet I heard voices coming from the abandoned stable on my property. It wasn’t anyone I knew and not someone from the town. I swear on what I have most precious! There were two men, based on the different tones in voice, and they were talking about a hit—more like arguing—I couldn’t tell what the fight was about, they heavily disagreed if staying in this town was smart or not. The one with a sharper tone kept denying that they were being chased, and the other one kept pressing they’d get caught if they didn’t lay low for a bit…do what you will with this, darlin’, I don’t know more.”

The lady could only stare at your wide smirk, your body almost vibrating as your suspicions were now one hundred percent confirmed. The outlaws were in this town, you’d finally catch Kim Hongjoong, and he had no idea you were so close to putting him behind bars, taking the hefty payment you deserved after all these years of chasing after him and his band of baboons. You grabbed the lady’s hand and pressed an appreciative kiss against her knuckles before standing, grabbing the vest you had set your eyes on, “Could you hold on to this for me for a bit longer? I’ll come back for it in a few hours.”

“I leave before noon, darlin’; you better return before that!” You chuckled and tipped your cowboy hat in her direction before turning around and walking off, trying to remember where you had seen the store that looked like they had supplies you could use rather soon. You were passing just by the stall where the lady from yesterday was, and you stopped to buy some fresh bread, but your eyes caught something peculiar. There were more people around her stall, amongst them the tall and handsome man from the Inn, so she couldn’t pay attention to everyone at once. That wasn’t the issue, however; it was the shorter man sneaking pastries into his satchel bag, moving slowly yet somehow lithe at the same time. You chuckled to yourself and found yourself walking towards him, stopping right behind him, your hand shooting out to wrap around his warm wrist. The man froze, his whole body tensing up as he whipped his head around, but you couldn’t see his face well due to the cowboy hat he was also wearing. He didn’t seem much taller than you, though. You wondered for a second if you had seen him somewhere before.

“Did you think no one would notice?” You wouldn’t have meddled, but you figured the young lady needed to fend for herself and her son somehow. And if some petty thief stole some precious buns, she wouldn’t make as much as on a regular day. You couldn’t let that happen.

“Not many cares around here.” The man hissed back, his tone on the shrill side, but it was raspy as he tried to yank his wrist free. Your fingers only tightened around his skin, making you smirk when the man couldn’t exactly break free.

“Well, I do. If you don’t cause a scene, I’ll be more lenient with you.” The man scoffed, his voice filled with amusement as you saw him glancing to the side, making you look too, only to find the handsome man turning away. Your eyes narrowed as you wondered whether the two knew each other, but before you could dwell more on it, your foot was being stomped on, and you jumped back with a shout of pain. People looked your way, startled, and as if to mock you, the thief grabbed another hot bun before booking it, his laughter loud and amused as your teeth gritted, taking off after him before anyone could react. The lady’s calls sounded confused, and those who realised it was a thief you were chasing tried to help by jumping in front of the criminal, but he was fast. He was way too fast and way too light on his feet as he twisted his body almost in an enchanting way whenever someone went to grab him from the side. He was cackling still; you could hear it louder now that you were gaining on him, and he jumped over the wooden fence and turned sharply to the left, scurrying down an empty, muddy street.

You hissed under your breath and jumped the fence too, your feet almost tangling when you landed again, your pace thrown off. You weren’t too athletic despite chasing criminals for a living, and you cursed the petty thief as he pushed barrels over to make it harder for you to chase after him. But you weren’t giving up; your quick thinking got you jumping on crates and over the rolling barrels, and your eyes locked in on the chain hanging from a building. You didn’t even consider whether it could hold your weight as you lunged for it, your hands tangling into the hot chains, your body swinging in the air as you kicked your legs back and sent yourself forward. The man had glanced back while you were in the air, completely missing that you were mostly above his head now, and slowed his run into more of a strut. You grinned in triumph as you timed your jump smartly, the chains rattling loudly as you released them and kicked forward, making the criminal raise his head jerkily. You had just a few seconds to take in his features, at least what was visible since the lower half of his face was covered by a bandana, his cowboy hat disguising the upper half of his head. His eyes, however, somehow managed to burn into the back of your mind despite the brief glance into them.

They were sharp, small, attentive, and so much cat-like that it made you wonder whether the man had grown up with cats and bizarrely started taking after them. They were pretty eyes, a dark brown that felt like it burned your own ones before the man twisted around and tried to make a run for it again, but your feet were already colliding with his back, sending him harshly to the ground as you tumbled just a little to the side of him, your groan matching his. Your right elbow throbbed as you landed on it funny, but when the man tried to get up, you kicked into action again and got onto his back, straddling him and pinning him to the dirty ground by the hips. He hissed and tried to throw you off, but you knew how to distribute your weight, so he was rendered motionless. It was hilarious to watch him try to fight you off until, suddenly, he went stiff.

“What? Is that it all?” You mocked, your tone laced with amusement, “You looked like you had more fight in you.”

The man didn’t answer much to your dismay, it wasn’t fun if your hostage wasn’t a bit sassy. You noticed the man didn’t have a weapon on him, at least not visible, and his dark blue shirt’s sleeves were rolled up to expose his forearms due to the heat. His vest was old, much like yours, and it hugged around his pretty waist, his trousers a dark brown and soft under your fingertips as you found yourself lightly grazing the fabric. You stopped when you realised you were being a creep, but there was a sudden pull to the man that made you want to touch him. It was peculiar…you mostly liked staying away from male specimens, unless it was Sheriff Jeong, but this one got your interest piqued for an unexplainable reason. You gulped and grabbed the strap of his satchel bag, yanking it a bit and making the man groan. His hands were pressed to the ground, and he was motionless still, his head turned to the side, but you couldn’t see his profile due to his cowboy hat.

“You’ve got something here that you’ll be returning.” You said as you yanked on the strap again, making the man gruff out something under his breath. Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes narrowed, and you leaned just a bit closer, “What was that?”

The man said something lowly again, and you were getting irritated by his lack of answer…at least one that you could hear, “Speak up, cowboy, or did you bite your tongue during your fall?”

“I said, I’d like to see you try, skivvy.” Your eyebrows furrowed at the blatant insult, your anger exploding inside you out of nowhere. You were good at controlling yourself, but this just felt absolutely uncalled for and way too derogatory, coming from a criminal. You huffed, loudly and clearly offended, clenching and unclenching the fingers of your right hand, debating whether you should punch the man to teach him a lesson. But he spoke up before you could make a choice, “What? No more mocking?”

And as you sucked in air through your teeth, deciding to punch the man, indeed, his head suddenly flew backwards while his hips kicked up strongly, and you were thrown off balance as the back of his head collided with your forehead. It didn’t hurt since he was wearing the hat, and you weren’t too close to his head, but it was enough to jostle you off the man. Suddenly, your whole world was spinning as your back hit the ground hard, weight settling over your hips as the sharp eyes were now staring down at you, obscuring the blistering sun. You realised your cowboy hat was knocked off in the ordeal, the man’s fingers twisted into the hair on the back of your head, not tugging, but warning enough. His other hand had your collarbones pressing down, and you grabbed his wrist, glaring up at him.

“You must be so proud of yourself right now.” Your tone was sarcastic as the man chuckled under the bandana covering his face, and you could see the blatant amusement dancing in his eyes. You would bet on your cowboy hat that he was smirking, too.

“You aren’t the smartest pea in the pond.” Another low blow that got your blood pumping faster, nostrils flaring from anger.

“What makes you smarter? You literally needed a distraction to free yourself.” You fired back, your jaw clenching. For some reason, freeing yourself was a distant thought in your mind, even though it would’ve been comically easy. He didn’t restrict your hands, you could punch him, scratch him, even try and push him off.

“Right, and all you needed to free me was a distraction.” Well, that spurred you into action, your fist rising, but he caught your flying hand before it could fully raise. He tsked under his bandana, and you felt your cheeks heat up from both annoyance and embarrassment. This hadn’t happened before; men rarely managed to outsmart you or even overpower you, and what was most embarrassing was the fact that the criminal wasn’t even attempting to keep you subdued. It was your body that suddenly didn’t want to fight back, your heart racing while your muscles relaxed. To be fair, the man wasn’t making it difficult either; it was as if he found this fight amusing and was holding you still because he took pleasure in it.

“Well then, there’s nothing to brag about to your pals.” And suddenly, it felt like you were both just measuring dicks as to who was better at this and that, it was downright humiliating, but your mouth wouldn’t shut up, “You went down embarrassingly easily, I could headbutt you right now and you’d pass out instantly.”

The man laughed, his cat-like eyes scrunching up in amusement, “Well then? What are you waiting for?”

“A distraction.” You smirked and watched as the man’s eyes narrowed at you. You bucked your hips and twisted to the side, easily throwing the man off yourself. It wasn’t even hilarious anymore, just how easy it was to get him off, but it felt as if he wasn’t really trying to fight you. And why was that? You threatened to hand him to the Sheriff of the town, did he think he could get away with it? But he recovered quickly; he was up on his feet in a blink, and you were moving too, not about to let him go. You caught his arm and twisted it around, pinning it to his back as you held the man’s chin from behind, his back pressed to your chest.

“I have to admit,” The man’s voice was lower, filled with amusement and poorly timed seduction, “I’ve never been manhandled by a woman before. It’s kinda hot.”

“Shut up,” You hissed, looking for the rope usually around your waist to tie criminals up in situations like this one.

“Looking for this?” The man sing-songed, and your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up again, his left hand holding the exact rope that should’ve been on your waist. That, however, wasn’t exactly what got your heart racing while your ears rang loudly, blood going cold. Chasing a criminal was inked under the man’s fair skin on his forearm, as clear as day, glaring back at your gaping expression, “See? You shouldn’t discredit me so much, darlin’.”

“Shut up.” You hissed, snapping yourself out of your delusional thoughts as you wondered whether it was him. But there was no way this man right in front of you was your soulmate. Jostled by the thought, you pushed him forward and watched as he braced himself before he could fall into the building’s stone wall, quick on his feet as he turned around. You were about to say something, you should’ve said something, but you were instead gaping at him, plotting how to rip his bandana off. The man wasn’t moving either, for some reason, he was closely watching your expression, his eyes landing on your covered forearm. You were smarter than him with that, at least. An explosion resounded in the distance, and you both jumped, your eyes wide when you realised it had come from the market.

“Would you look at that?” The man laughed, tipping his cowboy hat forward before he winked, “That’s my cue to go.”

And before you could lunge for him, he was already sprinting back down the way you had come, and for some reason, you didn’t chase after him. You looked down at the ground and bent down to grab your cowboy hat and rope, wondering whether the man you had just caught might have been your soulmate. Your gut twisted oddly, and you gulped, your jaw clenching as you took the way you had come, going back to the market to find out what the explosion was all about. At least you could’ve snatched his satchel bag to return all those hot buns.

           Your heart raced as you sprung up from the bed, eyes falling on the open window. You had forgotten to close it last night, and now your skin was covered in goosebumps as a chilly breeze blew inside. It had gotten significantly colder yesterday evening, making you cosy up underneath the blanket, your body tired from the day you’ve had. Your forehead was covered in a sheen layer of sweat, and you tapped it down with your arm, slowly realising that your forearm was burning. You lowered your arm and turned it around, staring at the inked words unblinking. Bank robbery. You gulped, suddenly feeling a hollowness in your chest as your eyebrows furrowed. The outlaws that were in this town…so was it one of them? Your soulmate—was it one of the outlaws? You gulped, your heart suddenly racing as you threw the blanket over your feet and sat on the edge of your bed, caressing your skin gently. In moments like this one, you wished your soulmate was a country boy, a farmer, a simple mine worker, anything but a criminal. What you did for a living didn’t mesh well with your soulmate’s profession, and you knew Sheriff Jeong would never understand you.

His soulmate was an outlaw too, judging based on the inked words on his inner forearm, and he had loathed his partner before even meeting them. You, on the other hand, couldn’t share the sentiment. You were displeased, of course, you were, but you’ve spent your whole life lonely and watching couples from afar, wondering what it felt like to finally find your soulmate, to reunite with them for an eternity. Nobody would’ve guessed, but deep down, you dreamed of a romance like in the old folk tales. You wished to be madly in love, blinded by it to the point that you couldn’t breathe if your soulmate wasn’t next to you. You winced as the ink felt like it was splitting your skin in two, making you wonder what was causing such a reaction since it’d never happened before. You knew today would be a long day, and you also knew you had to face the consequences of your soulmate’s actions. You knew you had a hard decision ahead of yourself, but you prayed to any existent deity that your soulmate wouldn’t be the worst of the worst. Maybe he was part of the outlaw gang you’ve been chasing, maybe he was just a local from this town, trying to make amends. Committing so many crimes wasn’t an excuse, but if he was doing it to fend for himself and his poor family, you’d let it slide. With a heavy sigh, you dragged yourself off the bed and went inside the bathroom, well aware of your next step.

The market had been a mess of panicked people by the time you had reached it yesterday, but you were glad to hear nobody was injured. Someone had set fire to an unoccupied table before the first small granite had gone off, making a store’s windows explode since it was ignited right underneath it. The old lady was shaken when you had checked in with her, and you decided to accompany her home after you bought more bread than was necessary from the lady with the little boy. You had searched for the handsome stranger’s face in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen, much like the thief you’ve had the chance to catch but hesitated. You weren’t pleased with yourself, but your body had refused to cooperate when you needed it most. Now, however, you knew what was the right thing to do. You didn’t want to draw even more attention to yourself, so after a quick trip to the stable to make sure Carlos was still there, healthy and safe, you took off on foot towards the Bank. It was rather close since it was in the heart of the town, and you had decided to stake out in front of it, sitting at a cafeteria.

Their coffee was overpriced and not as good as back in your town, but it would do for now. You weren’t here to enjoy a cup of coffee, after all, but to keep your eyes on the Bank and observe who came and went. You had an eye for telling the locals and newcomers apart; it was their way of dressing and conversing, of looking at ease, versus the gorgeous man with red hair who looked fidgety as he walked towards the Bank. He was wearing rather hand-me-down robes, trying a bit too hard to fit in with the crowd. It made him look even more obvious, and you smiled as you realised you had caught the first suspicious person. He walked inside the Bank, and you wondered whether it was him or not, subconsciously rubbing your forearm. You wore no sleeves today, and you made no effort to cover your arm up. It was time you faced whatever the Universe had in store for you if you came across your soulmate.

You took a sip of your coffee just as a large horse galloped right into the middle of the square, coming to a stop in front of the Bank. You realised with elation that it was the handsome man from the Inn, his sharp eyes narrowed as he surveyed the place. You quickly lowered your head and pretended to be interested in the newspaper by your cup of coffee, having forgone your cowboy hat today as you knew it would attract unwanted attention. You kept your leather pants, however, and borrowed a sleeveless shirt from the pretty girl behind the bar. She was rather eager to lend it to you after you offered her a soaring kiss, one she certainly wouldn’t forget. When you deemed it safe to look up again, you realised the handsome man was moving on, the redhead having just left the building. Your eyes narrowed, and you watched as a short-haired buff man approached your target, throwing an arm around him and casually walking off with him. You were determined to sit there all day long if it meant catching the outlaws red-handed, but that thought was quickly changed when a motorcar pulled up in front of the Bank, its engine running loudly.

A rather tall man with gorgeous long black hair stepped out, keeping the door open for someone…and your eyes widened. It was the same man from the market, the thief, the one you had chased! Your heart lurched, and your hand shook as you loudly placed your porcelain cup on the small plate, leaning forward in your seat as if that would help you see the two men better. They didn’t seem to exchange any words between each other, just a nod of a head before the long-haired man confidently walked up to the Bank’s entrance, smiling gratuitously as the door was opened for him, the other one sneaking off to the side of the building. Something in your gut told you to get up and go after the shorter one, his outfit almost the same as yesterday except that his vest was missing and an obvious pistol was lodged in his pants against his lower back. You stood and left your unfinished cup of coffee behind, making sure the road was safe as you crossed it in a run, keeping your eyes on the thief. He walked down the narrow alleyway, his gloved fingers tracing the wall before he turned the corner, making you hurry up since you didn’t know what the back of the building hid.

You made sure your steps were light and silent, and you found your fingers tracing the same spots the criminal had too, your cheeks flushing red in embarrassment. You yanked your hands away and let them lay limply by your sides as you pressed up against the building to peek around the corner. The man was smoking, a tobacco dangling from his lips, but you couldn’t see his face since his cowboy hat was pulled down low again. Much like you, he hadn’t bothered hiding his forearm, and you had a burning curiosity to know what the ink said. You flinched as a door you hadn’t noticed was there was thrown open, the hiss of a voice beckoning your target inside. The man chuckled and didn’t bother putting out his tobacco, and you were quick on your feet as the door started shutting quickly behind the man. You managed to wadge your foot inside before it could close, and realising you probably didn’t have much time to act, you flung the door open as you took a deep breath. Almost as if the man sensed he was being followed, he was leaning against a table facing the door, tobacco put out and a smirk on his red lips. You froze, your heart nervously skipping a beat, and the man chuckled.

“You are not as sleek as you think you are, bounty hunter.” You gulped, watching the man as he chuckled under his breath. You felt like you couldn’t speak, too focused on the burning sensation of your arm and the racing of your heart, “Mingi saw you leaving this morning and figured something wasn’t right. You have a pretty pistol, but it screams Sheriff.”

And he was right, Sheriff Jeong had gifted it to you many years ago. It was custom-made and expensive, resembling the one most officers used. You gulped, suddenly not as brave as you used to be. The criminal, however, seemed to have more to say, “We met yesterday too, thanks for not turning me in. Those buns were delicious, by the way. Did you get some for yourself?”

Your jaw clenched, eyes narrowing, “No, because you stole them all.”

The outlaw chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, “What can I say…I have six mouths to feed.”

“Is the food at the Inn not good enough?” You quirked an eyebrow, suddenly realising why he had seemed familiar yesterday. The day you had arrived in town and had gone up to your room, the man leaving the one across from yours had been this man, the outlaw. All this time, he was right under your nose. You felt your heart rate rise in anger, your fists clenching by your sides.

“Meh, I’ve certainly had worse.” The man pushed off the table, fearlessly stalking towards you, “But what’s the fun in following the rules? I love a little chaos.”

“I know.” The words slipped out your mouth before you could catch yourself. Did you know? Something in your gut told you that yes, you did know, you’ve known your whole life.

“You do?” The man raised an eyebrow, stopping a few inches in front of you. Tackling him to the ground would be easy, but your body refused to move just yet, “How come?”

“How do you know I’m a bounty hunter?” You answered his question with a question, your heart racing as you could see the man’s lips pull into an amused smirk. You were itching to see his whole face, your fingers trembled at the thought of knocking his cowboy hat back to see his face. You gulped, waiting for his answer as the man shrugged, tilting his head slightly.

“I’ll call it a hunch, I guess.” And then, you gasped as he jumped forward all of a sudden, pressing you up against the door. You hadn’t expected him to attack you, but you finally snapped out of your frozen state and took action. You yanked your head to the side as his fist came towards your face, slightly thrown off guard that he could so easily punch a woman. Perhaps he saw it on your face because he chuckled, his left hand tightening around your bicep, “My apologies, sugar, did you think I didn’t hit women?”

“My mistake for considering you a gentleman.” You hissed under your breath and took a left swing at his face, which he easily dodged. It felt just like yesterday, with pointless punches thrown at each other with no intention of harming the other. Your body had never acted on its own like this before, and you wondered why it was happening now of all times.

“Never mistake an outlaw for a gentleman, sugar.” The man chuckled as you managed to free your left arm and elbowed him in the neck, the man making a choked-up sound. You shook him off yourself and went to kick his legs out of underneath him, but he managed to avoid your kick even as he clutched at his neck. Your next punch, however, he couldn’t deflect as he was busy getting his breath back, and his head flew to the side, knocking his cowboy hat off. You didn’t wait for him to recover as you got behind him and pushed him, throwing your arm around his neck once he was hunched over, putting him in a headlock. The man’s eyes were wide as he grabbed your arm, his nails digging painfully into your exposed skin. You turned your head, needing to see the face of the man, only to freeze in shock.

“Kim Hongjoong?” Your voice was barely a whisper, but your faces were so close next to each other that he heard you. He chuckled, gulping hard as his eyes fell on your face, a satisfied smirk still on his lips.

“Surprise, sugar, no bounty hunter’s managed to catch me before.” You felt speechless as you felt all of your hard work finally come to fruition. You had Kim Hongjoong in your arms, at your mercy, your pockets full of coins that would last you and the next generation if you spent it wisely once you handed the criminal over to the Sheriff, “Close your mouth before a fly flies inside.”

Your cheeks burned, and you felt your arm lightly soften against his neck, but then you quickly snapped out of it and willed yourself to focus. The man was gorgeous; none of those sketches did his beauty justice. His sharp features weren’t as intimidating as the handsome stranger’s from the Inn—who was part of his outlaw band, now you realised—but his eyes held danger, a promise of pain and unforgiveness. You gulped, tracing his nose and red lips, your eyes lingering on them, and you felt your tongue poking out to wet your own lips. The outlaw, Hongjoong, hummed to himself and touched your cheek with his left hand, making you jump.

“Bank robbery.” You heard him whispering, his eyes glancing down at the forearm exposed to him since you had him in a headlock with your left hand, “Peculiar, isn’t it?”

You gulped nervously, your heart racing even faster as you allowed your eyes to fall onto his own exposed forearm now that his arm was outstretched, his fingers grazing your cheek. Finally catching the outlaw. You gasped and pushed Hongjoong away, a coldness seeping deep into your bones despite the scorching hot air inside the dimly lit room. Hongjoong looked at you apprehensively, watching you as if you were a rabid animal, analysing your features and body language. You didn’t know what to do or how to react; it all felt too much, too overwhelming. Why did you have to be right? Where was Sheriff Jeong to make fun of your fate and tell you it was just a joke all along? Why was Kim Hongjoong your soulmate, and why did your body yearn so desperately for his touch again? It felt hard to breathe as your eyes filled with tears, and you didn’t want to break down, but it suddenly felt like you weren’t so alone anymore.

“Oh, don’t cry, sweetheart.” And when you felt arms around your body, you started crying hard, your body shaking with sobs as your fingers curled into his shirt, squeezing Hongjoong to yourself, “It’s alright, I’m here now.”

“You’re a terrible person.” You managed to get out as you were still crying, blinded by the tears in your eyes as you tried to look at his face, “You steal from people, you hurt others, you’ve killed too, I—and I had to sit through all of that, wondering all this time why was I fated to a man like you. Why is it you, Kim Hongjoong? I was supposed to bring you back to the Sheriff, I was supposed to get rich off of you—I—I’ve been chasing you for so long, it’s unfair!”

Your tears subsided as your anger won over, and you pushed Hongjoong away, staring at him with a glare as his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowing, “I’ve been wondering too why I was fated with someone who wanted to catch me, harm me perhaps, hand me over to live a miserable life.”

A deafening silence fell over the two of you as the realisation settled in that Hongjoong might’ve been feeling the same conflicting emotions as you were. Your heart raced in the excitement that you had finally found your soulmate, finally feeling complete, but your brain told you that you could still come out of this victoriously, that you could hand him in and live a life alone…it’s what you were used to after all.

“It’s not too late to walk away,” Hongjoong muttered quietly, caressing the ink on his skin, his gulp loud, “We won’t harm you if you leave us alone, I promise—”

“Are you telling your own soulmate to walk away? To leave you alone after I finally found you?!” Your voice was rising in anger, and Hongjoong flinched, glancing behind you.

“Let’s keep it down or else we’ll be discovered,” He suggested and took a step closer, his eyes analysing your face once again. You gulped when he didn’t stop approaching you and almost flinched when he reached out, his warm fingers grazing your cheek again, “Don’t you hate me?”

“I hate what you are and that you’ve made me chase you for so long that I was forced to be alone for thirty years.” You whispered, eyebrows furrowing as Hongjoong’s fingers traced your eyebrows down to your nose, under your eyes and then your lips, his gulp loud.

“You’re beautiful,” He whispered with a smile, stepping even closer to you, your faces just a breath away, “Come with me, learn my world, let me show you the brighter side of it.”

“That’s not who I am, Hongjoong.”

“No? Then who are you?”

You gulped, letting the question settle in your mind. Who were you? What did you have besides Sheriff Jeong and a house you had forcefully claimed as yours? You were nothing but a lonely woman hunting down criminals because it filled your time and distracted you from the void in your chest, a void that was no longer eating away at your heart.

“Promise you’ll never leave me. Promise you’ll keep me safe,” You gulped, already dreading the sudden twist of your future. Were you doing the right thing right now? Was this the smart choice? “Promise you’ll never hurt Sheriff Jeong.”

“I promise to keep you safe and never leave you, not now that I’ve found you.” Hongjoong chuckled then, cupping your jaw gently as shouts came from behind the door. You tensed, but Hongjoong didn’t seem phased by it, “And I won’t hurt Sheriff Jeong, even though I wonder who that is…”

“Not just you, your whole gang.” Your eyebrows furrowed as Hongjoong traced your bottom lip with his thumb, smirking at himself.

“Okay, fine, no one will hurt the Sheriff.” You hummed, eyes widening when Hongjoong closed the distance and pressed his warm lips against yours, tasting like the homemade meal your mother used to make that you loved so much. Hongjoong felt like home, like coming home after a long day and falling into your bed, knowing it always had your back, always would be there for you. These comparisons felt silly as you kissed him back, fingers tangling in his black hair, but they were everything you’d always wished for.

A sudden explosion outside made you yelp, and Hongjoong smirked, letting go of you to grab his cowboy hat, extending his hand for you to take, “Well, that’s our cue, sweetheart. We better get going before the Sheriffs get here.”

You knew Sheriff Jeong would hate you for an eternity for accepting the outlaw’s extended hand, but there was nothing you could do when your soulmate was grinning at you with mischief and wickedness in his eyes, so confident and proud as your fingers intertwined.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY & BVIDZSOO 2025 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating our work is not allowed.

[toffee4you]

Honestly I'm surprised at how much actual hate I've seen towards the Dawn Armor announcement (mostly Twitter). Just because he's wearing the armor doesn't mean he has to slay/harm Malleus.

Reasoning and anticipated outcome below cut

The reasons:

Already, Silver and Dawn have shown parallels. While they both wish for the unity of fae, humans, etc., Dawn followed any order despite knowing it was wrong because he didn't want to betray Heinrick (and by extension, his family). Meanwhile, Silver was already shown to go against Malleus's order for the greater good (early book 7 in Sebek's dream, when he refused to fall asleep even after being bashed for his disobedience, and fled from Malleus to save him and everyone else). There's also things like rabbitfest where he was completely warranted to dust those delinquents, especially since everyone else initially wanted to do that too, but he immediately went for a passive approach. That's not as strong of an example because there's no lives on the line, though.

Another thing we're forgetting is that Silver and Dawn likely had vastly different environments growing up. Silver was raised by Lilia, a fae who advocated for peace between all species. He also has peers who don't harbor any particular hate towards fae because the modern world is more tolerant. Meanwhile, Dawn might have had good intentions, but from what we see, at least some of the humans he grew up with had little regard for fae (Heinrick). And, judging by lines about their greed and lack of care for the environment, it's highly probable that most others had the same lack of regard. It's a little hard to follow your beliefs when it'll seem like betraying everyone else who you want to protect, ESPECIALLY your family. This leads to what I believe is one of the key differences.

Heinrick manipulated Dawn by telling him it was for Leah's happiness and her father's health. Maleanor is not someone Dawn has personally known, making it less of a loss to slay her in order to save what's important to him (as terrible as it is, and undoubtedly, it was a hard but wrong decision imo). On the contrary, Malleus is a part of Silver's family + his liege, and that's important to him. He's doing this to save Malleus and everyone else, not just to save one side like Dawn was.

Also, Malleus is doing this with misplaced intentions to make everyone happy, and the others seem somewhat aware of this (most definitely Silver, who saw his reasoning from beginning to end). Meanwhile, humans back then probably tried to dehumanize fae (especially Maleanor) by labeling them as the evil ones. No one is actively advocating for Malleus actually be slayed, giving Silver more room to follow his own will, unlike Dawn. So, not only was he raised to follow his will, but his environment is a lot more forgiving. As a matter of fact, if the others also advocate for not harming Malleus, there's really no reason AT ALL for Silver to hurt him.

Besides, it seems like TWST has been trying to represent a theme that the world is slowly changing, and issues do get resolved after overblots. Think of fairy gala. When Dawn said the line praying for all intelligent beings to live in harmony, he was about to slay Maleanor. When Silver said the line, it was because they actually SUCCEEDED at bringing the species together. History did not repeat itself, and I think it would be counterintuitive/more difficult for book 7 to end if they tried making Silver harm Malleus.

Also, did we forget how shaken Silver was when he realized he was related to Dawn? And how he had a whole character development realizing that even though he shared genetics with Dawn, he was still different and he was loved? Then vowed to save everyone? Super counterintuitive to go back on all of that for the sake of angst.

The conclusion:

In my opinion, I think the Dawn Armor has potential to be the opposite of "traumatizing" for Lilia. Sure, at first, he'll probably get a spook seeing that armor come out, but I think he trusts Silver enough to take the right route. I think it might finally give Lilia some internal peace when he sees Silver wield the same armor to save Malleus instead of slaying him, like a good ending version of what happened years ago. I also think Dawn Knight himself would be proud of Silver for doing what he failed at, assuming he's watching over Sil from the ring. At least, that's what I'm personally hoping for.

Feel free to throw tomatoes at me like a medieval villager if I'm wrong tho 🫡