#probably directed significant traffic to her

[greenwire]

Zero comments on that recipe and the entire recipe itself was taken down. Oh dear.

Black Sesame Milk

[scarletskiesinthepaths]

Levi’s Childhood: “Bad Boy”, The Underground, Kuchel, and Kenny—What Are the Implications?

Content Warning: Discussion of rape, sexual abuse, and sex trafficking

“Bad Boy” makes it even more explicitly clear that the Underground was no place for a child. From the “Bad Boy” panels alone, it is evident that Levi likely had constant people preying on him at all times—especially before he awakened his Ackerman powers. All these men Levi encounters here had no issue beating a child to (near) death or selling him into sexual slavery. Similar to the way it is portrayed in the “A Choice with No Regrets” storyline, the Underground is also described by Levi as “hopelessly dirty” with “rotten air”. 

It is significant to note here that Levi was well-known for being a prostitute’s son; all of those men were aware of Levi’s relation to Kuchel, even before Levi himself made it clear. They wanted to traffic him for that reason. In terms of speculation, it is very believable and even highly probable that Levi experienced sexual assault and rape before he awakened. Having grown up in a brothel with his mom, and now further seeing how common sex trafficking in the Underground was and also Levi’s infamy for being a prostitute’s son—there is no doubt that Levi was exposed to extreme levels of sexual violence regularly, whether it be him being witness to it, him experiencing the direct threat of it such as in “Bad Boy,” or him experiencing the actual act. The trauma of this is impossible to overstate. It seems the most likely, however, that Levi has had direct personal experience with the act itself, as men would have likely continued visiting “Olympia” after she died (and before Kenny appeared), and upon discovering she was no longer a viable option to have sex with, some of those men would have set their sights on Levi, who was a helpless child in the process of starving to death. 

The men in “Bad Boy” spoke about Levi as if he was born strictly to live a life of sexual slavery, referring to him as a “whore’s child” and discussing how they’d be able to profit from making him do the same job as his mother, saying he may have “inherited her talents”. Levi had probably heard this sort of language used in his presence before. As such, it would not be surprising if Levi had learned to expect this sort of treatment, as if he was placed in the world solely to suffer. Levi would have sought out a reason for this—why must he constantly be subjected to suffering? Is it because there is something wrong with him? If that’s the case, what specifically is wrong with him? It is important to consider as well that Levi’s entire sense of identity at this point was wrapped up in being the son of a prostitute and being raised by a serial killer, who may or may not have been his father. 

The violence Levi was subjected to in “Bad Boy,” such as having his head repeatedly smashed against the ground with a fist, would have most certainly resulted in his death, or at the very least, permanent brain damage, had Levi’s powers not awakened in that moment. However, what’s notable to me during all of this is the absence of Kenny’s presence. This indicates that Kenny would leave Levi alone in the Underground for significant enough periods of time that Levi still had the opportunity to find himself in situations of extreme danger, situations such that would have resulted in his death. Given what we know about Levi’s childhood from Kenny’s recollection of it in the main series, Kenny would subject Levi to fights against fully grown men in order to develop Levi’s combat skills and likely prompt his awakening. It is also clear in these “Bad Boy” panels that Levi already knew how to fight, given the way he initially tried to protect himself from being beaten by all those men. He was, however, helpless in protecting himself, given the deep disadvantage he had from being a child, as well as being faced against multiple opponents. Levi’s combat skills after his awakening also demonstrated he already had significant training. The responsible thing for an adult in Kenny’s position would have been to, not teach Levi how to fight, but remove him from the environment that necessitated that knowledge in the first place.

Needless to say, this practice was cruel and immensely abusive. The amount of psychological damage and self-worth issues this would undoubtedly cause Levi are immeasurable. It was Kenny’s responsibility to protect Levi’s childhood innocence, but it is because of Kenny’s actions (and inactions) that Levi was placed in a position of having to kill multiple men as a young child. Kenny may have saved Levi from the imminent death of starvation, but his abuse and abandonment ultimately caused Levi more harm than good in the long-run; he taught and exposed Levi to a life of violence. Indeed, Kenny wanted Levi to be a force for violence. That is all he ever modeled for Levi and desired from him, even though he had the capability of sparing Levi from such experiences. However, it speaks to Levi’s innate goodness that he still loved Kenny after all he was made to suffer by him and even forgave Kenny by the end.

The awakening of Levi’s powers demonstrated to Levi the idea that he was an agent of destruction and a monster. Recall back to the moment during the “Uprising” arc when a man accuses Levi of being such and Levi simply responds, “Maybe I am”. Levi’s awakening was described by Levi as a form of dissociation, as if he was not fully aware of what he was doing. Consider his words here: “I didn’t think it was strange that something had happened to me at the time. The pain in my head disappeared and I felt calm, as if my head was submerged in water. And the idea of what to do came to mind. But I just followed the instinct and acted accordingly.” And yet, Levi likely blames himself for the brutality of which he killed his attackers, despite acting in self-defense and having no other recourse. It was an answer to his question: what is wrong with him? He must be a monster. Being forced into such a situation as a child would instill this view in Levi that he was born into his life only to bring suffering to others. That is why he suffers in turn.

This perception of an inner monstrosity in Levi is furthered by what the man in the glasses tells him directly after this: “Stop doing things that will make your mother in heaven sad!” Levi’s impression of Kuchel, his mother, was the one thing that brought him comfort in his life. He remembered her “elegant” posture. With these man’s words, even that one comfort was lost to Levi. Now the thought of his mother would instead be associated with the idea that she would view him as bad—that she would have seen his “murderous” actions and would cast judgment on him. This is completely incorrect, of course. The only reason Levi even awakened his strength was because he was protecting his mom’s image from the cruel words the men were speaking against her. Levi was severely beaten to near death, all because he loved his mom essentially. Think of the tragedy of that; Levi was directly punished for loving someone. This further demonstrates that innate goodness in Levi—how he continues to love and care about others, despite the immense suffering it’s brought him over and over. To further the tragedy of all this, it is evident that Levi still views his mother with fondness, in spite of the belief that she would hate him. Levi purposely seeks out the brothel in which he grew up with her, undoubtedly filled with countless awful and traumatic memories, in order to feel closer to her presence.

After Levi’s awakening, Levi soon after finds himself in yet another fight, and it is this moment that Levi watches as Kenny walks away and abandons him forever. Levi thought Kenny wanted him to become strong. He thought his strength would earn him Kenny’s acceptance, but instead, he was met with his rejection. If Kenny still didn’t love him even after becoming strong, that once again proved to Levi that there was something deeply wrong with him. Similar to the way Levi would come to associate his strength as the thing responsible for making him a “killer” and ruining his mother’s perception of him, Levi would likely form the association that his physical strength led directly to Kenny abandoning him. Moreover, what was the purpose of his strength? Levi did not want to use it to bring suffering to others. 

Levi discovered on his own that his strength could be used to help others—to protect. This is incredibly significant because Levi was literally taught the opposite his whole life: that it made him a monster, that its only purpose was for saving himself and bringing death and destruction—he was taught even that that’s something he should desire. Somehow, despite all that, Levi still found a way to use his strength for the benefit of others. Although, this highlights a further tragedy in Levi. As demonstrated earlier, Levi was taught that it was the normal state of the world, the status quo, for him to be abused; he learned that this treatment of him was, not only happening because it was something he was somehow meant for, but also happening because he was some abnormal monster. Levi desiring to use his strength for others does not negate Levi’s own negative perception of himself. All of the events in Levi’s childhood taught Levi that he had no worth, and that is indeed the way we see Levi treat himself throughout the entire series. 

Levi never once defends himself against people’s cruel words against him. Think back to the way Mikasa said it was Levi’s fault that they had lost Eren in the “Female Titan” arc directly after Levi had lost his entire squad; think of the way Levi accepts Dieter’s words against him and Erwin about being “devoid of humanity” in the aftermath of the Female Titan’s attack; think of how Levi accepts the negative way the people of Trost and the merchants were speaking against him; and as mentioned earlier, think of the way Levi accepts being called a monster during “Uprising”. Levi directly refers to himself as “abnormal” as well during that same arc. There are countless more examples of this. Levi fights during the Battle of Heaven and Earth, despite being grievously injured already. It is because of this that he ultimately ends up in a wheelchair. Levi fights for other people to the complete detriment of himself. That is pure selflessness. Levi treats himself as completely devoid of worth, despite seeing so much worth in others. As such, Levi dedicates everything he has, even if it would result in severe damage to himself; he views himself as expendable. It is clear too that Levi views himself as unclean from all the blood he has on his hands and all the filth he was surrounded by growing up. It was his “dirty” hands after all that killed all those men and led to his mom’s teacup breaking at the end of "Bad Boy"; a sign of his inner badness. 

[iskra-tqd]

Who: @abelasx Where: Initially meeting at the edge of Eterna, then traveling out.  When: Present in the timeline  Notes: You said in his bio that he has ghostwriters help him; if he’s publishing under a ghostwriting name or pseudonym please just search and replace his name in the relevant spots in this starter. I looked at his bio and headcannons and didn’t see a publishing name he uses. 

When Iskra had traveled in from her family’s estate, she had anticipated assisting the Iskaran refugees, not resolving environmental problems the influx of population sparked. With a bit more forethought, she probably should have anticipated the additional foot traffic, housing needs, and mouths to feed would disrupt the delicate balance between townships and unsettled lands and shown up earlier; but she hadn’t. Her dear aunt, Floria, had passed her a copy of an Eterna newspaper and tapped on an article toward the bottom of the page knowing it would interest her niece. What Iskra read in the neatly pressed words was, in summary, as follows: the influx of Iskaran refugees bolstering the population of Eterna was pushing city limits beyond their normal borders from foot traffic to commerce demands to temporary housing arrangements. The need for additional resources left grain silos depleted, had felled acres of forests that were not slated for harvest for years to come, and displaced hundreds of wild animals. In particular, the deforestation had impacted the habitat of the Skvader, a threatened species native to the Feywilds who had migrated as far as the Queenset Isles and Eastreach, and whose significant mating season was coming up in just a month or two’s time. 

Every mating season for this creature was important. Several dozen Skvader flocks had been under observation by some of Iskra’s more fauna-focused colleagues for years. Numbers weren’t dwindling, but the beasts' small population had barely remained stable for the last handful of years. A drop-off in birth rates, even just for one year, could be devastating to the potential for the species to rebound, and significantly increase the chances of eventual extinction. All of this to say, the creatures needed a few extra resources and an intervening hand to boost the certainty that they would be well-resourced for the upcoming hatching season. 

As soon as Iskra had finished the article, she penned a series of letters. Some to her colleagues in the field who could advise the best course of action to support local Skvader flocks and one to the editor of the Eterna newspaper. It had not shocked Iskra to receive letters back quickly from her friends in the field providing her with sage advice and actionable steps, but it did surprise her that the editor of the news publication had responded even quicker. They had thanked Iskra for her interest in the story and advised she seek out a High Elvhen named Abelas–as a renowned beastmaster and champion for the environment, Iskra recognized the name in an instant, though she had not yet had the pleasure of speaking or working with him. But plenty of his publications and principles had shaped her into the environmentalist she was today. 

Iskra tried not to look too excited as she gently kicked her heels into the side of her horse, a sleek, black mare with a shimmering coat and well-maintained mane named Selene. She gently directed the reigns to steer the horse in the direction of another mounted figure. The faiman did not know what Abelas looked like, but they were at the established meeting point at the edge of Eterna’s boundaries, which was agreed upon in their brief letters. “Are you Abelas?” she asked as she approached. 

[fantastic-rambles]

Fandom: Durarara!!

Characters: Izaya Orihara, Shizuo Heiwajima, Others (mentioned)

Warnings: Attempted Suicide, Physical Disability, Threats of Violence

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: [Post-Canon, light Izaya novel spoilers] When it seems like the end of the world is nigh, Izaya finds himself drawn back to Ikebukuro. Even so, the last thing he expects is for Shizuo to actively seek him out and for the both of them to have a relatively civil and honest conversation. [Written for Shizaya Week 2023 | Day 4: end of the world AU @shizayasweek]

- - - - - - - - - -

Heavy steps sounded on the fire escape, but Izaya didn't even glance toward them as he perched on the railing on the roof of the building. He didn't need to: he used to hear them at least once a week, accompanied by the roar of a monster as it chased after him with a single-minded determination. Even when they stopped right behind him and the back of his neck prickled, he didn't turn around, simply continuing to gaze out over the city filled with the humans he loved.

"Thought I told you to stay out of 'bukuro."

The usual rage was conspicuously absent from the rumbling voice, and Izaya heard some rustling followed by the click of a lighter. Then, Shizuo exhaled heavily, and the faint smell of acrid smoke drifted past Izaya before the railing creaked as the other man leaned against it.

"Those things will kill you, you know."

A low chuckle.

"Doesn't matter now, does it?"

It didn't. Nothing did. All of Izaya's plots, his failed attempts at permanence, his determination to stay away from this place… all blown away by the vicissitudes of fate. He hadn't thought that he had any lingering attachment to this place, but once the news had been announced, he'd found himself drawn back.

Idly, he wondered where the others had gone. Sozoro was easy enough to figure out: home to his family, bringing Haruto and Himari with him. The boy didn't know what was going on, other than a new adventure, which was probably for the best, but Himari was a bit more clever than him. Nec… perhaps she would retreat to the world inside her computer, along with Tsukumoya. He'd released all of them from their obligations to him and made his way here alone. And that was how he'd expected things to end.

He hadn't counted on Shizuo showing up. But then again, he had never been able to predict what went on in the protozoan's head.

"Shouldn't you be with someone else? Your owner? Or your lady friend?"

Another slow inhale, and Izaya chanced a glance at the other man, finding his brows furrowed as he lowered his cigarette from his lips. He looked confused, the expression so familiar and amusing that Izaya had to hold back a laugh as he shifted his gaze back toward the humans rushing around beneath them.

"You mean Tom-san? And Vorona?" Shizuo finally asked, still sounding uncertain, and Izaya did laugh then. But it lacked its usual sarcastic bite, sounding not quite natural or genuine.

"Sure. Or even Shinra and Celty. There are plenty of people who care about you, so why would you want to spend your last moments with me? Or have you not heard that there's a meteorite on a direct path to wipe out all life on earth? Or at least, a significant chunk of it?"

"I heard. But I also got a feeling you were back. Figured I'd try to snap your neck one last time, for old time's sake."

A heavy hand landed on Izaya's neck as if to make good on the threat, the fingers that wrapped around his throat nearly encircling it. Izaya remained relaxed, though, his eyes following a bright red car that wove through the traffic.

"And it seems like you'd let me."

Izaya shrugged.

"If I had to choose between you and a meteorite, you don't sound too bad. Of course, I'd rather be killed by a human, but a monster's better than a glorified rock, at least."

"Then why aren't you down there? With your humans?"

Izaya did sigh then, shaking his head in disappointment. Shizuo had always been a bit dumb, but this much? He hadn't thought that it was possible for him to overestimate the man, but yet again, Shizuo was managing to defy his expectations.

"Do you really think that I can go around asking people to kill me, pretty, pretty please? Humans are selfish, Shizu-chan: I thought that you, of all people, would know that. Now that we're facing the end of the world, there's nothing that I could offer anyone to convince them to put some time and effort toward satisfying my ego. Besides, I've already been stabbed once, and if I'm going to die, I'd rather it be quick and painless."

"You probably deserved it."

"I did, but that's beside the point. So now that we've cleared that up, can you just put us both out of our misery and go back to whoever's waiting for you?"

But the hand released him, falling back down to the railing as Shizuo continued to stand beside him, looking out over the temples to human conceit that would soon be erased. The vast reservoirs of human knowledge, the technology that held everything together, the richness of their emotions�� it was a waste. Even if halfway intelligent life re-evolved on this planet, it would take at least another couple hundred thousand years, and all of this would be little more than dust.

“Thought you’d be in a shelter or something. Shinra was saying that there was a chance of survival if people did something like that. There’s a bunch of old ones from the war, right?”

“Me? A shelter? Please, Shizu-chan. I love humans, but that doesn’t mean I want to be crammed together with them, surrounded by the heat of all those bodies and the wailing of children and babies. Besides, if they did survive, they’d end up in a deserted world, scratching for a living, suffering, living quick, cruel lives… that’s not for me. I suppose a monster like you wouldn’t understand, though. You probably don’t even need a shelter to survive.”

“Maybe,” Shizuo agreed with a slow nod. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“You mean you’ll find out.”

Izaya slid off the railing, stumbling slightly when his feet hit the concrete, but his grip on the metal kept him from collapsing. His wheelchair sat on the other side of the barrier, and he leaned over the edge of the building, his arms stretched to their full length as he continued to watch the humans scuttle around beneath him. There was something wonderfully ironic about this situation: he’d brought Kamichika to a similar place before, just to see what she would do when she was entirely disillusioned, her sophomoric self laid bare.

Ah, perhaps he should have reached out to Mamiya. She might have been willing to kill him, but then again, wouldn’t it be far more amusing for her to have her revenge denied? Ahhhh, if there was an afterlife, then he’d love to meet her again there and see her reaction. To him, to everything, to the afterlife she only half-believed in, the death she failed to respect.

And then he let go, his fingers falling open before he began to fall forward, a half-smile on his lips. There was a screeching sound behind him before his descent came to an abrupt stop, his right arm feeling as though it had been nearly jerked out of the socket.

“The fuck you doing, flea???”

Bemused, Izaya glanced over his shoulder. The railing was bent where Shizuo must have lunged against it to grab his wrist, his monstrous strength easily holding Izaya up with one hand.

“Dying, right?” he asked as if it wasn’t patently obvious. “I can’t get someone else to kill me, and I can’t get you to kill me. It’s rather anticlimactic, but despite what you may believe, I am a human, unlike you, so I’d still rather do it myself than wait for the strike and the tsunami and the heat wave or whatever to take me out.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Izaya blinked.

“Well, I have a host of issues, but none related to the current situation. But what’s wrong with you? Ever since I met you, it was ‘die, die, die,’ and now that I’m doing just that, you’re stopping me?”

“Like I can just stand by and watch someone die in front of me!”

“Oh? What about all the people down there? They’re all going to die soon, too. Or have you developed some sort of supernatural powers while I’ve been away, enough to pulverize the meteorite or divert it from its course? Can you save all of them? What’s the difference if I die now, or in a couple hours?”

“That’s… that’s not the point!”

Shizuo’s chest heaved as he backed up, pulling Izaya back onto the ledge, though he didn’t let go of him.

“Why are you so determined to die?” he demanded, and Izaya sighed.

“Actually, I would prefer not to,” he explained, speaking slowly as if he were addressing a particularly stupid child. “But at this point, it’s impossible to avoid. So if I’m going to die, I’d rather do it in a way that I like.”

“But why won’t you at least try to live?”

“As I said, it’s impossible. I’m not a monster like you.”

Ahhhhh, this was why he hated Shizuo. Most stupid people were easy to deal with, because they didn’t try to pretend to be human. They were fine with being wrapped up in themselves and only caring about others when it benefited them. But Shizuo was so determined to prove that he was something that he wasn’t, which led him to do even more stupid things that proved he wasn’t human.

And then he was tugged closer, pulled against Shizuo’s chest, and his flickblade was in his hand, slashing at the other man, just like old times. Except Shizuo didn’t let go, only catching Izaya’s wrist and squeezing it until he dropped the weapon as blood trickled down from the cut on his cheek.

“You said it, right? I might be able to survive even out here. So if you’re with me, maybe you can live, too.”

“I don’t want to. What’s the point of living in a ruined world with a monster?” Izaya snapped acidly, struggling in the other man’s grip. But he’d never dreamed of being able to fight against Shizuo head-on, and with his legs as they were now, that was even more unlikely. All he could do was pound a fist weakly against a chest that felt as hard and immovable as concrete. "If you’re looking for someone to go to hell with you, I’m sure that there are plenty of people who would be delighted to oblige.”

“I don’t want to live with you, either. But if I can save one person, then it’ll be worth it, even if it’s you. And maybe that would be what both of us deserve, after everything we’ve done. If we’re the only ones left, we can’t hurt anyone else. Or maybe we’ll both die, and that will just be the end of it. But I’m not going to leave you alone. Who knows what the fuck you’d get up to?”

Izaya’s scowl deepened. Pointless sentiment, the monster looking to assuage its misplaced guilt… fine, but why did he have to be dragged into it? He’d never felt any remorse for the things he’d done, standing above the humans and watching them scramble frantically beneath him. He didn’t need forgiveness or repentance. He'd always lived simply as he wanted to, even knowing that it meant taking on his beloved humans' feelings, both positive and—more often—negative.

"Let me go."

"No."

"Let me go!"

"No. Come on, I-za-yaaa, let's face the end together."

Braced against Shizuo's chest, Izaya didn't have any choice in the matter, and they eventually ended up on the ground, waiting with Izaya half in Shizuo's lap. Then, as they watched, a false sunrise lit up the horizon, setting the sky aflame.

[brandon-foster]

There was a chorus of sounds erupting from every pot and overhead pipe. It was almost like white noise at this point. Brandon had gone over the budget at least a hundred times, but somehow there was always something he missed. Collaborative efforts from maintenance workers or rather his friends and family, piled on top of the other noises. That did nothing to irritate him, at least not as much as his current standing did. The books needed a serious undertaking, and to make matters worse, they were going to be further behind than they already were.

The business had started with good intentions. Owning a restaurant had been his dream for a time, and while he wasn’t the most skilled chef on staff he was the best at working with others. His memory had been impeccable, always remembering customers, on top of strengths and weaknesses in his own kitchen and where to place new pieces. And for a time, it worked. It went without saying that many things had changed since then, the central most significant probably being the very thing that could make or break him, and did. Business was slowing, the decreasing traffic no doubt due to a new problem arising nearly every week. Brandon would never entertain the idea that he needed another person to help, much less ask for the help. Even if he never said it or even mustered the thought, it was obvious to everyone but him. It was missing the overhead direction of someone who wasn’t passing on logging books on account of being hungover.

Brandon was too stubborn and stuck in his pride to ask for the help he probably needed, but never picked up the phone to do so. Someone in another room dropped an object with a clumsy curse spat in the air, followed by the sound of splitting glass into marble tile. His eyes rolled and he let out a defeated sigh, mentally drained enough to let whatever damage occurred in the other room subside. He dropped a heavy head into his palms, the pen between his fingers dropping on the desk below him. As if it were routine, Brandon asked himself if this was what he really wanted, if it was even feasible. Sometimes it felt like he was keeping the location just for the spite.

Already he heard their guilty whispers and attempts to clean whatever mess they made before he noticed, but someone else had already arrived. Someone worse to face the repercussions of a mess, someone whose father probably funded whatever they ruined in there. He knew she was here because the buzzer had been held for just the right amount of time she knew would piss him off, enough time for his clumsy “maintenance” workers to get the hint that they really fucked up, to which they shuffled around in a panic. It was just the icing on the cake that they had changed the locks.

Trading one stress for another, Brandon quickly moved from the squeaky desk chair to head for the back door, wiping his hands on his black apron almost like a forethought. He mentally prepared for the vitriol she was about to spit at him for even changing the locks without telling her, a move he’d forgotten to share with her due to complacency.

“Fuck. My bad. ” When he did prop the silver door open he leaned, placing the other arm of the wall for foundation. “Locksmith came a few days ago, I forgot to give you the extra keys.” He gruffed, moving out so she could come in, as if that would do anything to appease her. Already in his mind he tried to figure out how to get her through the kitchen to his office without the presence of glass. “I didn’t know if you were coming in to do the deposit, you should’ve called, I haven’t seen you in like, two weeks. Its just a..bad time right now.”

[lunarxdaydream]

⛸ + 🔁 : my muse to take yours ice skating. Ven. (the wrong season for it but oh well haha)

( send an emoji for a starter / drabble )

⛸ + 🔁 : my muse to take yours ice skating. Ven. (reversed)

"Isn't it early?"

Not that it stopped people from decorating months in advance for Halloween. Temperatures have begun to fall to a crisp but was it really enough to bring out the skating rink?

Families of all sizes stand in line with excitement. Some of the children bundled given how strong the air continued to blast in the makeshift building. Had she not known better, one would've assumed it was on the brink of snowing outside.

"You know," Elbows lay on the edge as she took a breath; the ache in her legs returning now that the adrenaline had stopped. "I never pinned you as the skating type." Frankly outside of his 'ventures' and cooking, there is still a lot about Ven she didn't know. Did the man even have a hobby outside of tormenting others?

Now that she thought about it, when was the last time she bothered to do something like this? Ice skating had been a favorite of hers and yet she couldn't remember her last visit. Heck, the way her muscles screamed for a break were more than enough to indicate she was out of practice.

"Ugh, I can't take it anymore." Fingers pull the zipper free. A sliver of relief breathed out as she slid closer to the exit, more than ready to throw this thing to the side. Now to just find a spot to leave it and --

"Slow down!"

Small curls bounce as the small girl rushes near only to lose her footing when blades strike the thick rubber of the floormats. The stranger's voice cuts through her thoughts but on instinct, Lucia catches her. Any second later and who knows what sort of harm the young girl would have suffered if she landed anywhere near her skates.

"Didn't anyone tell you not to run?"

"Sorry about that, miss." His attention shifts over his shoulder to wave -- probably to a family member or significant other.

"No harm, no foul."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Tall stature lowers to near the child's eye level. There is no semblance she can see but maybe ... a niece? Step child or something of the like? "Now, go return the skates. We're late for the party ... unless you don't want to go anymore?"

A loud gasp fell from the girl's lips before she turned tail to the counter. Unfortunately for him, her little 'almost' accident long forgotten in light of, god forbid, missing whatever party she was looking forward to.

'Well that's one way of getting a child to listen.'

"Traffic shouldn't be too bad ..." Eyes dart down to his watch as mumbled words fall. Most likely to keep track of time now that the young girl was making quick work of undoing her laces with help of ... her mother? Sister? The woman seemed rather young but who knows nowadays --

"Careful out there." The words come quickly before she could register them. Not that she particularly cared as he departed to return to his family or whatever they were. Oh well, back to more important things: taking this damn jacket off!

Better yet, something cold to soothe her parched throat.

"Hey Ven!" Might as well ask if he wanted something from the little stand.

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

"So?" Warm air strike them as soon as the door is held open. As ever, Nina happily licking away at her lollipop and her newly tucked in card to cash in for whatever prize she wanted once they made it back. She supposed it was kind of them to give her parents a break ...

"Didn't seem too worried." Lights of the vehicle come to life with a press of a button. No direction required as Nina hopped into the backseat and strapped herself.

-- Good. Less for him to deal with.

"And the twerp's injury can't be that bad if he's out skating." Let alone Lucia agreeing to a public place after his 'accident'.

"Want me to pay him a visit?"

"Not yet." Engine roars to life. A final glimpse thrown back to the building where his sister and whatever the hell he is, were spending their afternoon. "... but I'm tempted to have a few words with him myself."

|| @arcxnumvitae ||

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 8

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous → Part 7

Next → Part 9

Feeling a body shift beside you, you slowly began to wake from your deep, dreamless sleep. With thin rays of sunlight shining through the crack between the curtains, you let a content, sleepy smile toy at the corners of your lips as you rolled over in Keishin's arms and came face to face with his sleeping form.

It had been over a week since you had started staying with Keishin and even though waking up beside someone every morning definitely took some getting used to, you were a little surprised by just how quickly it was beginning to feel normal. Not only that, but you never slept better than you did in Keishin's bed with his warm, calming presence beside you and strong, protective arm draped over your waist.

Eyes closed and lips slightly parted, Keishin was fast asleep. His chest rose and fell rhythmically and at some point during the night, just like every other night, his hair—which wasn't tamed by the headband while he slept—had gotten all messed up and a few strands had fallen into his face.

Whenever you woke up before him, you would always take the chance to just look at him. While he slept, he seemed completely and utterly at peace—no longer burdened by the stress of coaching volleyball, working at the store, and no doubt whatever extra problems you had brought into his life. You thought back to the time you had watched him sleeping on the couch in the back room and sighed happily; the thought of how much things had changed in such a short period of time truly putting things into perspective.

Unable to keep your hands to yourself any longer, you reached out slowly and brushed the loose strands of hair out of his face and tucked them behind his ear—the same way you had done when you two had first had sex and the same way you had done countless times since.

Keishin could sleep through a thunderstorm or the sound of you calling out his name, but as soon as he felt your fingertips graze against his cheek, his eyes fluttered open. Upon noticing he was awake, you made your touch more prominent and caressed his face.

"Good morning," you whispered, unwilling to raise your voice any more than that and ruin the soft ambiance of the early morning.

Keishin leaned into your touch and smiled softly. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you answered as you ran your thumb along his bottom lip, internally debating if you should ambush him with kisses now or wait until he had woken up a little more first. Chuckling to yourself over your own thoughts, you caught yourself staring at his lips and directed your gaze back to his eyes. "I'm just looking at you."

Keishin scoffed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your thumb. "Why?"

"Because you look so beautiful when you're asleep," you told him matter-of-factly. "Not that you don't always look beautiful," you added quickly before he could make some sort of sarcastic comment.

Keishin rolled his eyes before pulling you flush against his chest and kissing you. "You're such a sap, you know that?"

You laughed. "First, I'm dramatic. Now I'm a sap. What's next?"

"I have no idea." Keishin shrugged the best he could while lying down. "What I do know, however," he glanced at the clock, "is that we need to get up and get ready."

Following Keishin's gaze to the time, you huffed sadly when you noticed there were only five minutes left until your alarm would go off, forcing you to get ready to open the store. "Can't we just stay in bed all day?" you asked, hoping you could convince him to stay under the covers with you.

"Not unless we want to go broke and end up living under a bridge together."

You chuckled as Keishin crawled out of bed, the temptation of slapping his ass gently when he stood up almost too much but you managed to control yourself. "Together?" You grinned. "You'd stay with me even if we were both dirt poor?"

Keishin rolled his eyes playfully at your takeaway from his statement. "Of course." He collected his clothes before making his way around to your side of the bed and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But I think I like plumbing and heating too much to give them up, so let's shower and get ready."

Sitting up in bed, you cocked an eyebrow. "You want to shower together?"

Keishin flashed a devilish smirk as he headed for the bathroom. "Purely for the purpose of saving water." He disappeared into the bathroom and seconds later his boxers flew out and landed on the floor, indicating he was completely nude. "But if you hate the planet, then I guess that's on you."

Your cheeks flushed red but nevertheless, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and began removing your clothes as you approached the bathroom. "Sure," you laughed as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself and let your eyes wander over Keishin's wet, naked body as he stood under the steaming water. "If it's for the planet, how could I possibly say no?"

20 minutes of passionate kissing and soapy hands exploring every inch of each other's body later, the two of you towelled off and finished getting ready before sitting down for a quick breakfast together.

"So the volleyball team has a game today, right?" you asked Keishin as you poured milk into your bowl of cereal. Keishin nodded. "What time do you think you will be home?"

Keishin thought for a moment before answering. "Probably around six or seven tonight. The game is right after school so it shouldn't run too late."

"Okay." You sat down across from him at the table. "Should we get dinner after I close up the shop?"

Keishin nodded again. "Sounds like a plan."

With a few more bites of his breakfast, Keishin was setting his dishes in the sink, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, and rushing down the stairs and out of the building to start his day.

As you listened to his footsteps stomp down the stairs, followed by the sound of the back door opening and closing to indicate that he had left, you sighed to yourself and sat back in your chair. It was then that you took a minute to think about everything; your job, your boyfriend, your living arrangements, your tattered relationship with your parents. In the span of a few months, your life had completely turned upside down, but that wasn't the part that freaked you out the most.

What really got you thinking was the fact that, even though your life had done a complete 180, you had never been happier; which led to the constant internal questioning about if you had ever really been happy before you had met Keishin at all, or if this was just a different kind of happy—a happy that only a stable, supportive significant other could provide.

Before you had the chance to get lost in your thoughts, you snapped out of it, finished your breakfast, and headed downstairs to open the shop and begin your day.

As usual, you dealt with the typical morning rush of people stopping in to grab a coffee or other various food items on their way to work or school. Once the mid-morning slump hit and the customer traffic went way down, you took the time to do some routine cleaning and inventory. By now, you were like a well-oiled machine when it came to the daily task of running the store.

Around noon, as you were finishing up stocking some shelves, the front door opened and a very well-dressed man strolled into the store. "Hello," you greeted him, standing from where you were kneeling in front of the shelves and dusting off your pants.

The man gave you a once over, eyeing you from head to toe. Without so much as an acknowledging nod, he brushed past you and toward the full-length fridges at the back.

Assuming the man just wasn't in a chatty mood, you took the empty boxes to the storage room. When you exited, the man was already standing at the front counter, impatiently tapping his foot while he held two bottles of water in his hands.

"Sorry for the wait," you apologized. "Just the waters today?"

The man just nodded and let out a grunt.

Trying not to take his dismissive attitude too seriously, you rang up his purchases and gave him the total. Instead of pulling out his wallet, however, he just gave you a dirty look.

"That's a little expensive for two bottles of water, don't you think?" he retorted.

You didn't know what to say to that, so you shrugged. "I'm sorry, I don't make the prices, sir," you told him. "I just work here."

Huffing loudly, the man fished his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out some bills before tossing them haphazardly onto the counter. "Fine. Don't forget my change."

Before you could open the cash register, the front doors opened again and a woman dressed in a beautiful dress with her hair done up elegantly walked in and stopped beside the man before you. "Have you paid yet?" she asked the man, who was either her boyfriend or husband based on the way she was hanging off of his arm. "I just realized I'm out of cigarettes."

"I'm just paying now," he told her, his face softer than you had seen it yet before he turned back to you and asked for the brand of cigarettes that his partner smoked.

Spinning around, you felt your stomach twist at the sight of the empty dispenser of cigarettes, meaning that you were out of the brand he had requested. Of course, the delivery for that day hadn't come in yet, making your job even harder right now.

Plastering the warmest smile on your face that you could muster, you turned back to the couple. "I apologize, but we are all out of that brand. Can I get you something else?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "No, everything else tastes like garbage."

"I see." You stepped back up to the cash register. "So just the waters then?"

The man nodded. "I guess so if your shitty little store doesn't even stock up on popular brands of cigarettes." He watched you intently as you opened the register and counted his change. "I knew we should have stopped somewhere other than this hole in the wall."

As much as you so desperately wanted to rip this man and his spoiled girlfriend a new one, you bit your tongue instead and grinned as you handed him back his change. "Here you are." You dropped the coins into his outstretched hand. "Have a wonderful day."

Neither one of them said anything in response as they turned on their heels and marched out of the store, noses turned up at everything around them. As you watched them get into their fancy car and speed away, you wondered if they treated everyone like that or just lowly corner store workers like yourself.

Trying to let the incident slide off of you like water off of a duck's back, you returned to the remaining tasks on your to-do list and tried to forget all about being treated like a second-class citizen.

As the day turned to late afternoon and the after-school and after-work rush hit, you had found your way back into your groove again.

An hour or so before closing time, and roughly around the time Keishin would be returning, you heard a pair of heels clacking against the tile floor and stood up front behind the counter only to come face-to-face with your mother. Dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse, it was obvious she had just come from work, but your attention was more focused on the envelope she was holding out to you.

"This came for you the other day." She didn't even bother with a simple greeting even though it had been weeks since you had seen or spoken to her or your father.

"Oh, okay." You reached out and took the envelope from her. Turning it over, you felt your heart jump into your throat when you read that it was from the University of Tokyo.

You looked up at your mother expectantly but she waved you off. "Don't ask me what it says, I didn't open it," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Why didn't you tell your father and me that you applied to the University of Tokyo? It's a very good school."

"Because I didn't do it for you," you said as you tucked the envelope into your back pocket. "And I certainly didn't do it to go to law school or anything you guys would approve of."

Your mother narrowed her eyes at you. "Then why did you do it?"

"To play soccer," you answered, your mind immediately going to the conversation you had had with Keishin while taking inventory together. "And because I told someone I would."

Your mother eyed you for a minute more, waiting to see if you would reach for the envelope again to open it. When you made no indication of sharing your application results with her, she hummed softly. "Well, whatever that letter says, you should take some time to seriously consider what your next step is going to be." She turned to leave but stopped halfway to the door and looked at you over her shoulder. "It's not too late to make the right choice. Think carefully before you throw your life away."

With that, your mother exited the store, leaving you with a mixed slurry of emotions and no clue how to deal with any of them.

Pulling the envelope out of your back pocket, you set it down on the counter in front of you and stared at it. Whatever was printed on the single piece of paper inside would set a course for your future . . . although you were unsure if you even still wanted the future that this piece of paper could give you.

All you wanted was to be happy, and all you knew was that Keishin gave you that.

Anything more felt like asking for too much.

Anything more felt like a gamble that wasn't worth the risk.

[fermented-writers-block]

Lus and the Human Portal Clone Theory

Even before Keeping Up A-fear-ances aired, I have been working for almost a year now on running through all the possible various suspects with wonderful folks like @sepublic​ , @anistarrose​ , and @elementalist-kdj​ . Like the post title indicates, from sheer process of elimination, the only conclusion that made sense to me was a clone made of Luz by the portal door, and I’ve been working on refining and reworking said conclusion up to the version I will lay out here.

Now, as @safetayy​ , @theowlhouseheadcanons , and @50shades-of-blue have heard from me before, the portal I've long suspected was not made to go from the Demon Realm to the Human Realm, but rather to go from the Human Realm to the Demon Realm by humans, for humans. This is because it then could tie into the hypothetical existence of a Luz clone without having the issue of asking where Eda, Lilith, and King's clones are, as the clone in this case is the result of a function of the door to create a basic level duplicate of any human that passes through it rather than it happening for just anyone that passes through.

With this, it's because the suitcase form of the portal looks as thought it indicates it was used for temporary trips to the Demon Realm, much like how suitcases were used when railways and international boats made travel more accessible for the middle and lower classes. For example:

Going by the way the door “faces” and the way it swings open, the ergonomics of the portal makes it look an awful lot like a right handed out swing door, with the Human Realm on the “inside” and the Demon Realm on the “outside.” And the arrow in the diagram depicts the general direction of traffic that such right handed, out swing doors are typically design with in mind - ergo, showing what way the portal appears to facilitate travel in.

Now, before you ask, the reason why I think the portal could have been created in the human realm in the first place is that it might require an extra component/bit of help or two from the Owl Deity which I’ve discussed before in the past as hinted by these connected designs:

I’ll explore how I feel the revelation that such a twist about the portal’s origins could play into the themes and narrative of the show under the cut, but overall, I feel these are potential significant details to keep in mind for the rest of this arc of building a new door and handling the idea of Lus having initially been made as a temporary-duration clone, hence how "Luz" comes off so uncannily in the letters as she wasn't meant for long term impersonations.

That, and why I named this the Human Portal Clone theory, for those wondering about the name.

Alongside this, my thought has been that walking back through the portal to the Human Realm basically makes the portal send a recall signal to tell the clone to return to it, where the clone would be reabsorbed into the portal and its memories are given to the original. However, with Luz going back into the Demon Realm for a brief time in YBOS, I am of the mind that it doesn’t just make another clone, but rather that doing so merely made the door turn off the recall signal and allowed "Lus" to resume the impersonation.

And as for the clone itself and why they’re writing letters to Camila, well, imagine it from Lus' perspective. To her at the time of creation, the last thing she probably knew was that she had been chasing the cute little owl that took her Azura book into the woods, and right when the bus to Reality Check Camp was about to arrive.

Also, if you think about it, Lus being the work of someone we/don’t know yet raises way more plot threads/questions than answers compared to being the work of the portal, as outlined below:

TLDR at end of post for those wondering

Belos? How and why before YBOS where he actually started paying attention to Luz for the first time and actually got his hands on a portal? 

Eda? Why would she do all this and not tell Luz she can goof around without needing to worry about her mom or the camp/in time to fool the camp, especially when it took a good amount of time for Eda to even start feeling that close to Luz? 

Hooty got ruled out from the getgo since he can’t hold pencils, King just isn’t that subtle, and everyone else that Luz knows has the major issues of just straight up not knowing about the camp in the first place. Well, that and a lack of another known method of getting to the Human Realm in the first place.

The camp? Why would they worry about a missing camper whose disappearance is all HER fault and thus would more logically result in a call to her parent than some convoluted clone conspiracy? 

And finally, some currently completely unknown third party?

If we’re talking a Changeling, A) it’d be easy for Luz to dismiss them and B) that just makes all the ominous portrayal of Lus super straightforward instead of a subversion like is the show’s shtick.

If we’re talking dimensional counterparts, A) they have to REALLY have led a very similar life to Luz’s in order for there to be enough common ground for Luz to listen, and B) dimensional counterparts aren’t even a confirmed or likely thing that people cooked up from Episode 1 side characters influenced by Amity’s concept art.

And if we’re talking some complete surprise third party group or another, it doesn’t make sense to introduce a third party and their motives and plans to the show this late in when Belos is already taking up the bulk of it all.

Hell, if anything, the continued existence of the duplicate in of itself would indicate that the target of the conspiracy is none other than Camila Noceda than anything to do with Luz or Eda, especially with the complete lack of anyone taking advantage of Luz and or Eda. 

From the getgo, Witches Before Wizards already hard-baked into the show the idea that Luz is NOT inherently special or anything into the foundations of the show from the getgo - ergo, Camila likely just is an absolutely regular human being, someone who has no justification for such a convoluted conspiracy to surround them.

That said, I believe that the idea of the portal having originated from the Human Realm could potentially play into some interesting stories to be had with Camila and Lus here, especially as the conspiracy board shot from the promo was confirmed by Dana to apparently be from S2A, not from the episodes past Yesterday’s Lie:

After all, with Luz searching the library for a way home this coming episodes, perhaps she might figure out something the next couple of episodes that allows her texts to send through, which would logically lead to the above picture. That, and Camila and Lus being confused by and trying to figure out what’s going on there.

I mean, the cabin in the woods likely has a very close connection to the portal and it’s origins given how closely tied the two structures seem to be, and as far as we can tell, Luz never mentioned the cabin in her videos to Camila, but if Lus tries to retrace her steps, that would be a natural vector to lead Camila to the cabin and thus allow us a chance to actually investigate it.

That said, all following the trail would do is lead her and Lus to a dead end at the abandoned cabin, where they would have nothing else to do except discuss their complicated relationship concerning Luz and twiddle their thumbs while waiting for Luz to finish things on her end - which while something I think would be interesting to see, I just don’t see how much of a way to keep them in the greater picture of the show without some kind of project or activity that the two of them could work together on on screen. 

And that’s what leads me to a particular train of thought here, starting with the question of what if Luz FAILS to make a working portal over the course of S2A and such?

With the possible in-universe mystery over what the heck is going on with Lus, perhaps the cabin might hold some notes from the original last human owner - if not potentially the creator - of Eda’s portal as well as potentially some of the same materials and such from previous trips.

Cue CAMILA building a working portal, following in the footsteps of the original creator and such and thus finding a reason to stay on screen, all the while potentially demonstrating both why Belos wanted the portal instead of making his own, as well as diving into the Owl Deity’s connection with the original portal. Heck, maybe the Owl Deity is only accessible in the Human Realm and that plays a part in Belos wanting to get to the Human Realm, which would bring Camila directly into contact with the magic her daughter has been interacting with.

Also, just imagine the internal conflict going on here with Lus. After all, helping Camila build a portal to get the original Luz -and hoo boy would that be a tough thing to grapple with- would most definitely do that and make both Lus AND Camila question how much the latter likes Lus vs Luz.

Like, just imagine it. There would be major chances for Lus and Camila to discuss what would happen if and when they’re finished with the portal, and what will happen to Lus’ relationship with Camila if and when Luz gets back.

Does Camila really prefer her daughter to be all more “normal” like Lus, or does she prefer the old, “weird” daughter from before the summer with Luz?

Perhaps she might be able to figure out how to strike a nuanced balance between the two, and all on a metaphorical journey to truly build a better connection between her and her daughter(s?). 

TLDR: Or in short, I can’t help but feel it would be fitting to see Camila building a bridge WITH Lus TO Luz. 

Particularly, by being the one to craft an actual working portal in the Human Realm instead of Luz in the Demon Realm, showing a parent putting in an active effort to get down to their child’s level rather than waiting for said child to try to get up to their parent’s level even if they can’t or find it incredibly hard to do so.

[yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen]

I’m so so SO sorry to do this, but I saw your requests were open and I have a request🥺

Please forgive me I’ve been craving an angsty/fluffy piece with other Benny or Will Miller. It could be like what a fight & make up would be like with them, like it could be over something stupid like not washing the dishes, or something significant like forgetting a birthday/anniversary.

I’m sorry again, but I LOVE your masterpieces, especially the Benny and Will pieces❤️🥺

Pairing: William 'Ironhead' Miller x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + for language and angst but with a happy ending.

The air was tense, the fog around your head thick enough to cut through with a knife. You could probably just use the dagger Will pushed deep into your chest. He's stoic and silent, hands clenched white on the leather of the steering wheel. The silence is deafening.

"Are you still angry at me?" he snaps, cutting his eyes over to you. The handle on the dagger twists, and you quickly look away to the window, suddenly finding the scenery that much more enjoyable. "Ignoring me?" he scoffs, "stop being so childish."

"Fuck you," you mumble under your breath.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," you sigh, refusing to turn and meet his eyes. "I didn't say anything of importance."

"I fucking hate it when you do that. You say something under your breath, and then when I ask you, it's oh nothing," he mocks your voice.

"Well, you are an asshole. That's probably why I don't want to talk to you." You cross your arms and look over at him, feeling the burn of his gaze. He's pissed. Your body betrays you, the way your thighs clench, arousal pooling between your legs.

He narrows his eyes, "Oh, I'm the asshole?" he flicks on his blinker and pulls over to the side of the road, putting the truck in park and turning on his hazards. "I'm not the one who wanted to keep our fucking relationship a secret! Then when my mom brings someone to a family party to set me up, you get angry at me for talking to her."

"You were doing so much more than talking! She kissed you, Will!"

"Once again, I did not want her to kiss me, and I pushed her away! Baby, I love you. I only want to be with you. I know my brother is your best friend, but we can't keep doing this!"

You rub your face feeling the tears slide down your cheeks; you want to be mad at him, but you know he's done nothing wrong. Will's been begging you for months to tell Benny and his family about the two of you. "I'm sorry," you whisper brokenly, "I just don't want Benny to hate me. I love you too, Will, so fucking much."

He gathers you up in his arms and kisses your head, letting you cry against his chest. "I'm sorry too," he whispers, "I-I just don't want anyone else, ever. You're it for me, baby."

"I feel the same way about you, Will," you pull back and stare into the deep baby blue eyes, "you're my forever." He leans forward and kisses you gently, deepening the kiss when his tongue licks against your bottom lip. You get lost in the sensation of his arms around you, the warmth of his mouth against yours.

You're ripped from the moment by someone knocking on the truck window. Will pulls away, and you both gasp, seeing Benny on the other side with a smug smirk. He gestures with his hand to roll down the window, and Will does. "I knew it! I knew you two were together. Why didn't you tell me?" he asks with a smile looking between the two of you.

"You-you're not angry?" you ask, trembling in Will's arms.

"No! Why would I be angry?" he asks incredulously. "But seriously, how long have you been together and know that if you say any more than six months, I will be pissed."

"Why six months?" Will asks, confused.

"Because that was my bet, and I put two-hundred bucks down on you two!" You burst out laughing, pressing your face into Will's chest and letting the tension seep away for the first time in months.

Will chuckles, rubbing your back, "you are something else, brother, something else. Now, fuck off, I got to go home and make love to my girl."

"Ew, gross, that is going to take some getting used to," Benny laughs before patting your head and walking back to his truck.

"I think our secrets out, baby." Will laughs, pulling you back to kiss you again. "Are you okay?"

"I'm wonderful, Benny knows. Apparently, a lot of people knew. Now, I believe love-making was promised. Can you deliver Captain Miller?" You grin when he pushes you back towards your seat and pulls back out into traffic, heading in the direction of home.

"Oh baby, I can deliver."

[mochegato]

Hope on Board

Chapter 24 – The Show Doesn’t Care if You’re Falling Apart

Chapter 1     Chapter 23

That was… well, not harder than anticipated, they anticipated it being hard, but terrible.  That was terrible.  Everything just barely seemed to come together.  Even after all their preparation, as always seems to happen, it came down to the last few seconds before they were able to disarm the last of the bombs.  On top of that both Garth and Lilith had gotten injured pretty badly.  They were all slightly off their game with Roy off the mission due to his broken jaw and multiple cracked ribs.  Dick probably should have waited until after the mission to kick his ass, but he would never have been able to hold off his anger that long and if he’d had to be in an enclosed place with him for two weeks, Roy would have ended up in the hospital for a few months at least.

Dick scrubbed his hand over his face a few times.  God, he was glad to be home.  He wished more than anything he was walking into his apartment and into Marinette’s open arms.  He would give anything to just curl up with Marinette in their bed and sleep for a week with her in his arms, but he’d burned that bridge pretty soundly.

Instead, he was walking into his childhood home because he didn’t know if Marinette was still in their apartment and he wasn’t about to make her feel awkward if she was.  He really hoped she was still there.  They’d bought that place to be a home for the twins.  He wanted them to have that, even if it didn’t include him.  

So he avoided what he hoped was their home and came back to the manor.  Hell, he wasn’t sure if he was all that welcome here either considering how Jason and Tim had been acting before he left.  But, he needed somewhere to lay down and rest while he figured out how to make it up to Marinette, or at the very least be amicable for the sake of the twins.  He knew she wouldn’t cut him out of the twins’ lives, but he wanted more than to just be there.  He wanted them to work together, to be together.  He wanted her, even knowing he didn’t deserve her.  He wanted to make her happy.  He wanted to be happy and he hadn’t been whenever he wasn’t with her.  Every time he left, he was miserable.

He looked up when he heard footsteps making their way toward him quickly and perked up a bit.  Maybe the family wasn’t as angry with him as he had anticipated.  Maybe, they were coming to welcome him home.  If they weren’t too mad, then maybe they’d help him prove himself to Marinette.  He could definitely use the help and they were all close to Marinette.  He smiled at Bruce, Tim, and Jason as they entered the foyer.  “Hey guys!”

“Dick!  Welcome home. Congratulations on the mission. Tell me about it after you’ve gotten settled in,” Bruce smiled warmly at him.

“It’s all in the report, B,” Dick chuckled.

“Yeah, but I want to hear you talk about it, about more than just what was in the report.”  Bruce clapped him on his shoulder as he passed him to make his way outside.

Dick beamed at him and finally took note of their outfits. “You guys look nice.  Where are you going?”

“Out, asshole,” Jason growled roughly bumping his shoulder into Dick’s as he walked out too.

Tim gave him a sympathetic look as he passed.  “Welcome back.  Hope to see you there.”  He nodded and followed them out.

Dick furrowed his brow, staring at the door for a few moments. Join them where?  “Welcome home, Master Dick.  Should I have your room prepared for tonight?” Alfred asked as he pulled on his coat as well.

“I think that’s probably for the best until I can speak with Marinette,” Dick grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck.  

“I believe Miss Marinette and Kismet have been staying with Master Adrien since you left,” Alfred informed him.  His voice was passive but years of experience with Alfred allowed Dick to detect the sharpness in the words.

“I see.  Thank you, Alfred,” he shot him a look to let him know he understood the message Alfred was passing on.  Dick had driven Marinette out of her home.  This was his fault and he needed to be the one to fix it.  “Hey Alfred, where is everyone going?”

Alfred gave him a sympathetic look.  “I think you need to figure this one out on your own.”  Alfred watched Dick as his brow furrowed at the cryptic answer.  Dick mentally ran through the schedule of things the family had on the schedule. There weren’t many and he couldn’t think of any that were coming up.  “Isn’t there somewhere you were supposed to be?  Something you were supposed to make it back for?” Alfred prompted him.

Dick shook his head at the words.  There was no gala coming up, no special dinners that he had been informed of.  There wasn’t even a significant Justice League meeting he knew of.  The only important event he had was Marinette’s show and the birth of the twins.  But the due date was more than a month away and the show was next week.

Alfred sighed and looked past him.  “Master Damian, it is time to leave.”

“I’m here, Alfred,” Damian grumbled, shuffling into the room. “I don’t understand why I must go when Grayson doesn’t have to.  He’s the reason I have to go in the first place.” He gave Dick a glare as he passed him. “And they’re not even together anymore, so he gets out of it.”

Damian slammed the door as he left through it.  Dick’s eyes were glued on the door.  He dropped his bag and pulled out his phone silently praying he was wrong.  He pulled up his calendar.  He was not wrong.  Today was the show and it started in just over an hour.  God!  His brain hadn’t caught up with the real date.  He had been so busy he still thought it was last week.

He silently cursed as he rushed to his room to take a shower and pull on a suit.  He frowned at the suit.  It was a fine suit, but it wasn’t special.  It wasn’t one by Marinette.  Everything she made was amazing and he would have loved to represent her.  So a plain, old designer suit would have to do, with a bright blue tie, the color she said made her think of him.

He raced through the streets on his motorcycle, weaving in and out of traffic to get there faster.  Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t wearing a suit from her after all, because with all the wind whipping his jacket and tie around, there was no way his suit was going to look good when he got there.

He jumped off his bike and rushed inside.  He approached the security officers at the door and realized he hadn’t thought this through.  He didn’t have a ticket.  He and Marinette hadn’t talked about logistics like whether he would need a ticket, before he had left.  She probably hadn’t set one aside for him after the fight either.  Which meant he had no way into the show.  He was going to miss Marinette’s show.

He groaned and ran his hands over his face and through his hair. She had been working on this for a full year.  She had put her blood, sweat, and tears into this event.  Literally.   All three, she literally put all three into the outfits.  And he was going to miss it.  He wasn’t going to be able to see all her hard work come to fruition.  Damn it!  This meant so much to her and he was missing it.  He couldn’t support her because of a fight that was his fault in the first place.

“Mr. Grayson?”  The tentative voice broke his downward spiral.

He looked up and shook his head, confused at the sight. “Teri?  What are you doing here?”

She chuckled lightly.  “It’s a Wayne Enterprises event, Mr. Grayson.  I’m security.” She looked over him analytically.  “Do you need a way in?”

Dick shot up.  “Yes! Yes, I do.  Can you get me in?”

Teri nodded and pushed his arm slightly to get him to move toward the door with her as she walked him past the security guards stationed there.  “Mr. Pennyworth said to tell you they have a seat for you in the front and not to dawdle. His words, not mine, sir.”

Dick sighed in relief.  “Thank you, Teri.  Thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I have an idea,” she smirked at him.  There was a shine in her eyes indicating she knew more than him. “I know how much it would devastate Miss. Dupain-Cheng if you weren’t there.”  Dick looked away quickly before she could see the change in his eyes.  He wasn’t so sure Marinette would be all that devastated.  “There you go, sir.”

Marinette walked on stage just as he slid into his seat between Damian and Alfred.  Polite applause sounded throughout the room with the exception of one loud, Jason sounding voice whooping in excitement.  Marinette giggled and shook her head to focus back on the task at hand. “Thank you everyone for that very enthusiastic greeting,” she smirked in their direction.  

“I wanted to start off by thanking Wayne Enterprises and especially Mr. Wayne and Mr. Drake for selecting me to work on this project with them. I’d also like to thank Mr. Fox for all of his brilliant work coming up with the fabrics I used for the show. Wayne Enterprises has put a lot of work and development into creating fabrics that are more than they seem, deceptively beautiful one might say.  

“Tonight, any light or color changes or shifts in rigidity you see in the clothes is entirely due to the fabric.  There are no special effects tonight, just special fabrics. We will have a press conference after the show where Messrs. Drake and Fox can elucidate the technology involved. I’m just here for the pretty. They’re here for the brains.”  She grinned at her own self-deprecating joke. “And without further ado, let’s start the show!”

She spun around and walked quickly behind the screen.  The first model walked out on stage and Dick was vaguely aware of gasps from the audience, but he didn’t notice the model. He was still staring at the spot where Marinette had disappeared.  Her hair was up in a bun and her dress was a blue and back, body skimming dress, both of which reminded him of the first night he met her.

She looked gorgeous, which wasn’t unexpected.  She always had been.  He thought maybe his mind had made her seem even more gorgeous while he was gone and missing her, but it wasn’t a trick of his mind, she was gorgeous and so much bigger than when he left.  He had only been gone two weeks and it seemed like her belly had grown more in the last two weeks than the two months before that.  Her dress skimmed over her bump, accentuating it.  She was in no way trying to hide the bump, as if she could, she was wearing it proudly and he wished he could hug her and rest his hands on it, maybe see if Robert and Lucy might kick his hands.  

He ran his hand through his hair again, further messing it up. He had missed so much.  Not just the last two weeks.  He’d missed so much of the twins developing because of his trips. And in this last one they’d gotten so much bigger.  How much more was he going to miss because of missions?

Another whoop drew his attention back to the runway.  He blinked a few times to make sure he really was seeing what he was seeing.  Stephanie was walking down the catwalk toward a black haired model who had just turned to return.  He stared at the two wondering how many models he had missed already.  When the black haired model got to the far end of the runway she turned around again and Dick finally saw her, Cassandra.  She smiled at the audience and did a standing backflip. As she moved, her dark blue jumpsuit flared with electricity.  He narrowed his eyes at it.  He gasped as he realized it was collecting energy from her movements.

His attention shifted back to Stephanie who had a proud grin, knowing the entire audience was amazed.  She made her way to the end of the runway in a gorgeous full body dress, a flame shot across the stage just before she reached it.  Stephanie, the chaos child she was, just grinned at the flame and continued to walk straight into it.  She stood in the fire’s flame for a few moments, letting the flame curl around her dress completely unaffected by the heat, before winking and turning back to return backstage.

As she walked back, she high fived the next model she passed. Dick chuckled as Duke swaggered his way down the runway with a sultry look on his face.  The lights at the end of the runway changed tone slightly to emulate sunlight.  As Duke approached the end of the runway, his shirt, or rather patterns in his shirt, started glowing.  The patterns got brighter the longer Duke stood under the sunlight.  Duke gave a cocky grin, knowing how impressive the outfit was and how good he looked in it before turning to walk back.

Halfway back, he fist bumped the next model, who Dick almost didn’t recognize as Rachel’s brother, Eddie.  Eddie didn’t have the swagger Duke had, but he held his own.  When he reached the end of the runway, he tugged on his jacket, changing the color of the jacket from black to blue.  He gave a smile to the audience and turned back to return.  About a quarter of the way back, he started running at the other model, who braced himself for Eddie to push off of into a flip over him.  He tugged on the jacket again mid-flip, exposing a new pattern in the jacket.

The new model turned back to the Audience with a confident, amused smile.  Dick huffed at how natural Adrien seemed on the runway and in a tuxedo.  By the time he made it to the end of the runway, someone had placed a candle at the end of the runway.  Adrien smirked and did a quick turn, whipping out the ends of his tuxedo coat.  As the coat spun, the ends turned hard and sliced cleanly through the candle.  When he turned back around, the ends of the coat fell fluidly around his back and bottom, all signs of rigidity gone.  

Adrien returned backstage and the models, Dick had clearly been staring after Marinette for a while because there were quite a few models he had missed in a variety of silhouettes, paraded out on stage for a final walk.  Adrien walked out last, arm in arm with Marinette who had an effervescent smile on her face as she waved to the audience.  Marinette suddenly looked around confused and yelled something to Stephanie, who was just going backstage.  Stephanie grinned and disappeared.  Less than a minute later, Stephanie was pushing Rachel out on stage as well.  Rachel looked out at the still applauding audience in awe until Marinette gave her a hug and guided her backstage with her.  

Before she had even made it backstage, Dick was moving to meet her. Barely noting the Wayne Enterprises employee announcing a press conference to discuss the innovations Marinette’s designs showcased starting in fifteen minutes.  So he had fifteen minutes to talk to Marinette.

He scanned the room and quickly found Marinette, at the center of the people, all congratulating her and celebrating, passing around champagne for the adults and water for Marinette and the minors.  He started to move towards her but paused.  This was her big moment.  This is everything she had been working towards for a year.  She was elated right now.  He didn’t want to ruin her moment by bringing his drama into it. She deserved this moment.  She deserved the elation.  He couldn’t take it away.  And they only had fifteen minutes, less now.  That wasn’t enough.  It would just bring the mood down without the time to bring it back up.

“Glad you could make it,” Lucius offered quietly, offering Dick a champagne flute.

“Thank you.  You did amazing work.  Those fabrics were brilliant,” Dick offered kindly, still staring at Marinette.

“Thank you.  I thought you might like the color scheme.  Blue, black, and grey.  Seemed like colors you would appreciate.”  He gave Dick a knowing smile.  

“She’s been working on this since before she met me and even if she hadn’t… she doesn’t know.”  Dick looked down embarrassed.  He didn’t want another conversation about why she didn’t’ know.

“The grey and black were there since before she met you, but the blue was more recent.”  Lucius turned toward Marinette.  “You never told her.”

Dick let out a deep sigh.  “The doctor said her pregnancy was risky.  She was supposed to reduce as much stress as possible.  I couldn’t… there was already so much stress from the show, I couldn’t add more to it.”  Even as he said the words he knew there was something wrong with them. Now that the mission was over, the words felt shallow, wrong.

Lucius silently studied Dick for a few moments while Dick pretended to focus on the chaos around them.  Finally, a look of realization settled in Lucius’ eyes.  “You know… being left behind, it leaves scars on a person, even if that was never the intent, even if that’s the last thing the person who left would ever want.  Watching them leave your life… it leaves a mark that sometimes never goes away.” Dick opened his mouth to object.  He was not leaving them behind.  Why did everyone think he would?  What did that say about him that everyone thought that he ever could?

Before he could say anything, Lucius continued. “Like watching your parents die in front of your eyes…” Dick snapped his mouth shut and stared at Lucius wide eyed.  “It leaves scars.  It makes you willing to go to extreme lengths to stop it from happening again.  It makes you need to stop it.  For some people that means putting on a bat costume and protecting a city.  For some people it means going out constantly to stamp out any potential threats.  And that need can be so strong, you can’t afford to let anyone stop you from doing so.” He paused to scan the room, his eyes settling on Marinette.  “Miss. Dupain-Cheng seems like the protective type.”

“She is,” Dick nodded numbly.

“The type that wouldn’t let someone she loves go out and risk their life recklessly for her.  The kind that would stop it.  Redirect the trauma.”  Dick stared at him dumbfounded.  “Are you sure by not telling her you’re protecting her, or are you preempting her, before she can talk you out of doing something you feel like you need to do?”

“No, that’s not…  There was a big plot.  The Court of Owls was planning a coordinated attack against the power grid in a few cities. The attack would have taken down the Eastern seaboard and a good portion of the Midwest.  I had to stop it.  I couldn’t… I couldn’t let her get hurt.”

Lucius nodded along with his words, contemplating what he said.  After a few minutes he spoke up again.  “You know, the hardest fabric to develop was the one with variable rigidity.  I couldn’t get the link to break.  Forming the bond was easy, but breaking it… impossible. The theory was there but I couldn’t get it to work.  I spent weeks maybe months focusing on nothing but getting that to work.”

Dick furrowed his brow at him, completely uncertain where the apparent non-sequitur was going.  “But you figured it out.”

“I did.”  He nodded in confirmation.  “And then Tim informed me we might not be able to use Stephanie’s design or the one before hers, maybe a few others.”

Dick shook his head in surprise.  “But that was brilliant.  That design was amazing.  It was my favorite, honestly… don’t tell my siblings that.”

Lucius chuckled.  “Your secret’s safe with me.” He suddenly turned serious again.  “There was a problem with production on the insulation fabrics, both the fire and ice insulators.  I spent so much time and focus on getting the variable rigidity working, I completely missed that production was falling apart.  That’s a problem I have sometimes, you know?  I hyper focus on one important thing and miss all the other the important things, even when they’re more important.  Could have destroyed the entire show.”

Dick blinked at him a few times.  He opened his mouth to respond, with what, he wasn’t sure, but luckily he was saved at the last second.  “Dick!”

Dick was ripped out of his confused haze by the sound of a familiar voice calling his name.  When he finally located the source he gave her a strained smile.  “Rachel.  Great job with the collection.”

“Oh, I didn’t do much of anything.  Marinette did all the work, and Lucius of course,” she deferred shyly.

Lucius smiled at her graciously.  “I know the most impressive part was done by Marinette. Finding a way to show all the innovations in their best light.  Her creativity is astounding.”

“I know Marinette found your insights very valuable, Rachel.  Just take the compliment,” Dick smiled at her.

“Yo!  Mr. Grayson,” Eddie called out to him, shaking his hand.

“Eddie.  You looked great up there.  A natural model,” Dick smiled at him.

Eddie blushed and looked away.  “It was okay.  Glad I could help.”

“Good flip up there too.  I bet you could have a good future as an action model if you wanted. You should talk to Adrien about it,” Dick encouraged him.

“Do you think he’d talk to me?” Eddie asked excitedly.

“I know he would absolutely love to help someone trying to break into the business.  I can… um…” he hesitated considering whether he would be the best intermediary between Eddie and Adrien.  “Or you can go up to him now.  He’ll be thrilled, honestly.”

Eddie looked around until he spotted Adrien.  “Yeah, maybe…” his phone started ringing.  He pulled it out.  He gave a confused expression before turning to the group with an apologetic smile.  “Just a second.”  He stepped away to take the call, returning a moment later.  His expression had turned to a concerned one.  “Rachel, we have to go now.  That was Mrs. Greene, there’s something going on back home.”

“I can take you,” Lucius offered.

“The press conference will start in one minute if you will all make your way to the next room,” the Wayne Enterprises employee announced loudly.

Dick shook his head.  “No, you have to do the conference.  I can take them… If I can borrow your car.  I just have my bike.”

“No scratches, Mr. Grayson,” Lucius warned him playfully, holding up the keys for him.

Dick gave him a charming, devious smile.  “Understood.  I’ll pull it around while you change, Eddie.  And Lucius?”

“Yes Mr. Grayson?”

“Can you let Marinette know I was here and why I had to leave, please?” He asked softly.

“Gladly, Mr. Grayson.”  He gave him a supportive smile and turned to join the others.

<><><><><> 

Dick closed the door to his apartment slowly.  What the hell had he just witnessed?  Kora’s restaurant had been attacked and the police spent the entire time he was there accusing Eddie of trying to help his parents by doing it for the insurance money, even though the evidence was extremely clear it wasn’t an inside job and Eddie had an alibi.  The officers then got mad at Dick when he started taking pictures to give some additional documentation of the incident for Kora to submit with her insurance claim.  One officer threatened to arrest him if he continued to interfere with their investigation.  What the hell was going on?

“Hey Daddy Dearest.  Heard you were back in town.  Missed you at the show,” Stephanie called to him from her perch on the kitchen counter.

“I was there,” Dick grumbled.  It had been a long day and he needed to figure a few things out, preferably alone.  “Sat with the family and everything.  Your dress was amazing.”

“I know.  You didn’t say hi to Marinette,” she observed a little too casually.

“I didn’t want to ruin her big moment.  I was waiting until after, but then I had to take Rachel and Eddie home.  Someone attacked the restaurant.  Then there was a whole… the police were trying to pin it on Eddie,” he explained, incredulity sneaking into his tone.

She quirked her head to the side considering his words. Finally, she gave a resolute nod. “We can investigate then. Probably a mob hit or a cop.”

Dick sighed dejectedly.  “Are they really that corrupt?”  He already knew the answer but he was hoping maybe she might have some words of insight or hope.

Instead, she started laughing.  No words of hope then.  “Duh!  Where have you been?  Yeah,” she tried to settle herself but the laughter escaped again for another few minutes. When she was finally able to control her laughter at his obliviousness, she turned her expression to more contemplative.  “So, you’re going to talk to Marinette?”

“Yeah.  See if I can fix this.  If it even can be fixed.”  He scrubbed his face with his hands again.  “I’m not so sure anymore.  Maybe I’ve broken it beyond repair.  Now that the mission is over, I can finally focus on her.”

Stephanie let out a long breath through her nose. “So… the mission’s over?”

“The mission is over,” he repeated, the relief he felt evident in his voice and body.  As soon as he said the words his body relaxed and he slumped against the counter.

“When does the next one start?” she asked innocently.

He scrunched his face in confusion.  Was there something going on he hadn’t heard about? “What next one?”

She rolled her eyes and let out a long suffering, exasperated sigh.  “There is always a next one, Dick.  There’s always another mission that demands your attention and takes you away for indefinite amounts of time.  As long as you’re the leader of the Titans, that’s not going to change.  So how long are you going to stay this time?”

“I’m…” he started.  She was right.  Even after the twins were born, there would be a next mission, a next trip he would have to go on and he would miss them growing up while he was in some shady motel or safe house on the other side of the planet.  Was that what he wanted?

She jumped down off of the counter.  “You think about it.  I just stopped by to drop off a present from Lucius.  I left it on your couch, although if you felt willing to part with it later, it’d make a great present for your sister.”  She pulled him into a tight hug.  “Bye, Dick.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly to her.  “Yeah, bye, Steph.”  His mind was already working on something else.  How long of a break was he going to take?  Would he be able to take a break?  Or was something else going to come up?  He stared absently at the counter.  What was it she said?  90% of parenting is just being there?  And he wasn’t.  He couldn’t. And he had been miserable the past few months.  Every time he’d had to leave for the Titans, he’d been miserable.  

She stopped in the doorway and turned back to him.  “For what it’s worth, she still loves you. She’s hurt and confused and scared and mad, justifiably, but she loved you and that hasn’t gone away.  I don’t know if you can fix it.  It depends on your priorities and your actions.  Something will have to change.  And if not… you know, sometimes people just work out better as friends.”  She gave him a wan smile and left.

He groaned in frustration and went to collapse on the couch so he could better wallow in his misery.  He was the worst human on the planet.  He picked up one of the pillows to cover his face.  Maybe if he was lucky, Lucius had created a special Wayne Enterprises suffocation material and this pillow was made out of it so he would be put out of his misery.  After a few seconds of still being able to breathe, he groaned.  Nothing was going his way.  He took the pillow off his face and tucked it behind his head, catching on something.  He reached back and grabbed it to get a look at it.

He sat up to examine it.  It was Stephanie’s dress.  Dick huffed out a laugh at the incredibly unsubtle hint.  It was the dress that almost didn’t make it into the show, the show that almost didn’t happen because Lucius had been too focused on other things, too focused on protecting Marinette to truly consider her.  Fucking fuck!  Lucius was right and Dick hadn’t seen it.  He was so scared to lose Marinette, he pushed her away.  Jason had been right and he hadn’t seen it.

He needed to fix it now, before he lost her forever. If she had sent the ticket, it meant she wasn’t gone yet.  She was still willing to try, if not for a relationship, at least as friends.  But Stephanie was right, there would always be another mission.  Was he willing to miss his kids developing and growing like he had so far?  The short answer was no.  He wasn’t willing to keep missing their lives.  He couldn’t be the full time Titans leader, and a full time vigilante, and a full time father.  Something needed to give and it couldn’t be his family.

He could step back being a vigilante, only patrol occasionally or when something big happened and he could step away from the Titans, Donna could lead better than him anyway.  That would keep him in Gotham full time, but he needed to figure out a job, one that allowed him to stay local and still protect people.  He did not want to give that up if he could help it. He’d spent the last more than a decade fighting villains and corruption.  He didn’t want to stop now.

He picked up his phone and tapped it against his lips absentmindedly for a few minutes.  Finally he gave a determined nod and sent Marinette a text.  ‘The show was amazing.  Can we talk tomorrow?  I want to tell you everything.’  That sent, he scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he wanted.  After a few rings, a disgruntled voice answered.  “What do you want, Grayson?”

“Commissioner Gordon?  I wanted to talk to you about my future.  Can I come over?”

Tags:

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[samwisethewitch]

Curses and Hexes

Cursing is one of the most ancient forms of magic — and one of the most controversial. Whereas most magic is constructive (used to manifest or attract things), cursing is destructive (used to cause misfortune or harm).

Technically speaking, curses and hexes are similar but different types of spells. A curse consists of written or spoken words, sometimes combined with gestures. A hex is a ritual involving material items. However, most modern witches use the terms interchangeably, as I do in this post.

The fastest way to start a debate in any witchy community is to bring up the topic of cursing. It seems like everyone has strong opinions on the subject, either for or against. For your practice, all that matters is what you believe.

So, When Is It Okay to Curse Someone?

This is a tricky question, and the answer depends on the witch.

There are some witches who believe that intentionally causing harm or misfortune to another person is always wrong, and will never cast curses for this reason. This is an entirely valid position! If you fall into this camp, know that you’re in good company.

Other witches believe that cursing is acceptable when it’s truly warranted by the situation, such as when your life or livelihood is in danger. Others believe that cursing is simply a means to an end, and can be done with good intention (cursing your friend’s unfaithful partner to get them to stop cheating, for example).

The one thing that most witches seem to agree on is that curses are serious stuff, and should not be taken lightly. Unlike other types of magic, curses are fueled by negative emotions like hate, anger, and heartbreak. This makes them very powerful, but also very draining for the witch casting them. Cursing someone means reliving any trauma you suffered at their hands in order to use those memories as fuel for the fire. Some people aren’t willing to put themselves through such an ordeal, which again, is entirely fair.

Because curses are fueled by such strong emotions, they’re powerful and volatile. They’re like the nitro fuel of witchcraft — if you don’t know what you’re doing and aren’t careful, someone could get seriously hurt. That someone could be you.

My personal view on cursing is essentially the same as my view on physical violence. It’s not the answer to all, or even most, problems, and it sometimes makes the situation worse instead of better. It should never be your first option, but it might very well be your last resort. If someone is holding you at gunpoint, you’re entitled to use violence to protect yourself. Likewise, if someone is putting you or a loved-one in life-threatening danger, you’re entitled to use whatever magical means necessary for protection.

Before You Curse

If you think there’s someone in your life who deserves to be cursed, go through the following criteria to decide if cursing is really the most appropriate action.

Sleep on it. When we’re in the heat of the moment, we sometimes say or do things we don’t mean. If you think you’re angry enough with someone to curse them, give it a couple of days before you reach for the vinegar and chili peppers. Give yourself time to cool off and clear your head. If, after a week, you still feel like a curse is warranted, move on to the next step.

Think about your own motives. Why do you want to curse this person? What did they do to make you angry enough that you’re willing to use magic to harm them in some way? If it’s a minor annoyance, like cutting you off in traffic, a curse probably isn’t appropriate. Likewise, if your motivations are petty or catty in nature — like cursing someone because they beat you out for a promotion — I highly encourage you to stop and do some self-reflection. For one thing, you may not be able to conjure enough genuine hatred and anger for an effective curse. For another, in these situations you may find it more helpful to do some work on yourself (working on anger issues, learning to gracefully accept failure, etc.) rather than lashing out at someone else.

Ask yourself if this situation matters in the long run. It may feel incredibly important now, but try to take a step back and look at the big picture. Will this person matter in a year? Five years? Ten? Are they important enough to warrant allowing yourself to channel enough negative energy for a curse? (If this person is putting your life, livelihood, or safety at risk, the answer to all of these questions is YES!)

Make sure your anger is directed at the right person. Who is really responsible for the pain you’re feeling? For example, if your significant other cheats on you, your first reaction may be to curse the person who “stole” them from you. But you aren’t really upset with this person — you’re hurt because your partner betrayed your trust. I’m not convinced that a cheating partner is a serious enough reason to cast a curse (again, will it really matter in ten years?) but if you decide to do so, at least make sure it’s directed at the person who is truly responsible for your pain.

Consider doing a banishing instead. In situations where a person is a danger to you or your loved ones, sometimes the best option is to give them a magical push out of your life. A banishing does what the name implies — it banishes a person or thing from your life. Unlike a curse, a banishing does not cause harm or misfortune to the person being targeted. It simply removes them from your life.

You can perform a simple yet effective banishing with a piece of paper, a pen, cayenne pepper, and dried lavender. Write the name of the person or thing you want to banish on the paper. Look down at the name and say, out loud, “[Name], you are no longer welcome in my life.” Sprinkle a bit of cayenne on the paper and instruct it to burn this person out of your life. Sprinkle a bit of lavender on the paper and instruct it to bring you peace and healing. Fold the paper up to create a little packet around the herbs, then take it outside and burn it to ash. (Be careful — cayenne smoke burns!) As the paper burns say, “I banish [name] from my life, never to return.” Scatter the leftover ashes on a busy road.

Consider doing a binding instead. Maybe you don’t necessarily need someone out of your life, but you do need to take away their power to cause harm. In this case, a binding is your best bet. A binding is a spell that “binds up” someone’s power, preventing them from taking certain actions. This can be useful for dealing with people who are toxic or abusive. Like a banishing, binding does not cause harm or misfortune to the target.

You can perform a simple binding charm with a photograph of your target, a pen, and red or black thread. Write your target’s full name (or as much of it as you know) across the bottom of the photo. Look down at the photo. Say, out loud, “[Name], I bind you. I bind up your power, so that you can no longer ______.” Fold the paper up as small as possible. Then, begin to wrap the thread around the folded paper. As you do, say, “[Name], I bind you.” Continue wrapping until the thread completely covers the paper — there should be no paper visible.

For whatever reason, some people seem to have a natural resistance to banishing and binding. You may find that your spell works for a while, but the person you tried to banish/bind eventually returns to their old ways. There’s some debate about why this happens — some say it’s because these people are narcissists or energy vampires, while others think it has something to do with their force of will. Personally, I think it’s because some people are so nasty and hateful that it takes nasty, hateful magic to get rid of them for good. If you find yourself dealing with one of these people, and your banishings and bindings aren’t sticking, you may want to move on to a full-fledged curse.

Creating an Effective Curse

Okay, you’ve done your self-reflection, you’ve considered or attempted a banishing and/or binding, and you still feel like cursing is your best/only option. In that case, here are some general guidelines for making sure that your curse is appropriate, effective, and ethical.

Be VERY specific. Don’t just lob a ball of negative energy at someone and expect it to do what you want. Be very, very clear about your intent for this curse. Use precise and specific language. Make it painfully obvious what you want to happen and how you want it to unfold.

For example, when writing a petition or incantation, don’t just say, “[Name] is cursed.” Instead use something like, “Should [Name] ever contact or harass me again, he/she/they is cursed. Let him/her/them feel what I have felt and suffer as I have suffered.” You could get even more specific and detailed if you wanted to, but the important thing is to establish some basic parameters for the powerful dark energy you’re unleashing.

Make sure the punishment fits the crime. A curse to cause sexual impotence probably isn’t appropriate for an abusive boss… unless that boss is sexually harassing their employees. In that case, sticking a few pins in a rotting cucumber may be just what the situation calls for. (Yes, that’s a real curse. Yes, the cucumber represents what you think it represents.)

Making sure the punishment fits the crime also means being honest about how serious of a curse is deserved. Do you really need to ruin this person’s life to get them out of your hair, or will a mild inconvenience do? As strange as the idea of a curse being fair sounds, avoiding overkill will not only maintain balance but will keep you from expending more energy than you have to.

Make sure your curse is only affecting your target and not anyone around them. When it comes to curses, family, friends, and coworkers can sometimes get caught in the crossfire. To avoid this, make sure your spell is targeted to a specific person by personalizing it as much as possible. Include photos of your target, their full legal name (or as much of their full name as you know), and a taglock if you can get it. You may even want to include a line in your petition or incantation specifying that this curse will only affect the desired target and not their friends and associates.

Set clear conditions/parameters. The most effective curses are situational. Think of it as laying an energetic trap in or around a certain situation — this is more efficient and uses up less of your energy than if you were to just cast a blanket curse that affects every area of the target’s life. Curse parameters take the form of, “If [name] does x, they will be met with y.”

Setting parameters also makes sure your curse is truly deserved. For example, maybe your friend has an abusive ex-spouse, and you want to use a curse to keep your friend safe. If the ex-spouse is already leaving your friend alone, there’s no reason for a curse. But if they aren’t leaving your friend alone, they deserve to be met with vicious, magical resistance. For this situation, you may want to use an incantation like, “Should [ex-spouse] ever approach or contact [your friend], they are cursed with discomfort, unrest, and legal trouble. Let them be hunted and put down like a rabid dog.” This ensures that if, at any point in the future, the ex-spouse starts harassing your friend again, the curse will immediately go into action.

Don’t attach yourself to the curse. Perhaps the most important part of cursing is making sure you keep the energy of the curse separate from your own energy. Revenge is a double-edged sword, so you need to take precautions to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.

Any time you cast a curse, you want to limit its connection to you as much as possible. Don’t include any of your own personal effects in the spell. You may also want to avoid using tools that hold a special place in your practice. For example, you may not want to use your altar as a place to craft curses. You may want to use materials that can be disposed of easily. Make sure to dispose of curse remains somewhere outside your home, such as at a busy road.

After casting a curse, it’s important to set aside some time for self-care. Start with a thorough cleansing. This can be as simple as taking a bath in salt water (or dumping a bucket of salt water over your head in the shower, if you don’t have a tub), but if you would rather do a full-fledged cleansing ritual, even better! It’s important to do something to remove any lingering negativity from your energy field, and to make sure the curse doesn’t attach to you in any way.

Cursing is intense, emotional, draining work. After casting a curse, take at least a few hours to rest and be kind to yourself. Eat your favorite foods. Take a nap. Read a book or watch a movie. Do whatever you need to do to make yourself feel good.

You may want to do some inner work after cursing to help process the intense emotions involved in this kind of magic. This can be journaling, meditation, energy work, or some other healing modality. If you’ve experienced serious trauma, you may want to consider speaking to a therapist or counselor in addition to doing work on your own.

Resources:

Utterly Wicked by Dorothy Morrison

Of Blood and Bones by Kate Freuler

New World Witchery podcast, “Episode 102 — Evil”

[somehow-progressing]

WTNV 182 / 132 Connection

So this isn't the first time Cecil's mother and trees have been connected.

In 132, exactly fifty episodes previously, her bedtime story was about a boy who turned into a tree.

I reviewed this episode to look for connections and..

Oh, boy.

So, first off, the boy's interest in science obviously reminded me of Carlos, right? But then the similarities stop there.

And start leading towards Cecil.

(The rest under the cut)

We now know that there was a time where Cecil's father was in the picture, although it may have been when Cecil was very, very young. The family dynamic in 132's story matches his exactly: a mother, a father, a sister, the youngest son.

My first thought was, "Well, this can't be a parallel to Cecil's family. They're far too loving, which doesn't match up with what we know of Cecil's mother at all." But then I looked closer.

The boy's parents are verbally insistent that they love him, to the point where it comes off as "I'm your parent so I have to love you, it's my job to do everything for you." Putting pressure, and a sense of guilt, on the child while never actually living up to their word.

"He knew he would never need his father to give his life for him. He just wanted his father to show concern for his health. He knew he would never need his mother to give away all of her belongings for him. He just wanted his mother to show interest in his curiosity." - 132, Bedtime Story

His parent's love is very idealistic, while not being one that they actually show or.. Possibly, feel. They don't show concern for his health, or value his interests. He's their son, but he's not anything more.

"My mom seems really proud of me too! She hid from me for three days! Like, the longest ever! And she’s covered all the mirrors in my house. I’m not sure why, but I think it must be because of pride. Being proud does all sorts of things… to a… um… to a person." - 33, Cassettes

Cecil's own experiences parallel this. He interprets her love through ideals, to fill the void of it in actuality. When you're a child, you think that a parent is supposed to be loving. They're supposed to care. When they don't, or they leave you alone in your house, or they ignore you, or they tell you not to cry after you've been injured because "you don't even exist," your brain doesn't know how to process it. Like he did with his memory loss in 182, Cecil tries to rationalize it. Mother abandoned me because she's proud, because she cares about me- because she's my mother and she has to.

The boy's relationship with his sister parallels Cecil's as well.

"His sister would tell him, “I hate you, brother.” But their parents would instruct her to be nice and so she would say sarcastically, “I love you, brother. I would climb the tallest mountain for you." - 132, Bedtime Story

"He knew his sister really loved him. He knew he would never need his sister to climb a mountain for him. He just wanted his sister to believe him that mountains were real." - 132, Bedtime Story

As mentioned in Ghost Stories, Cecil has had a very difficult relationship with his sister.

"See, my mother disappeared when I was only 14. Abby had just started school, but she had to drop out to return home and raise me, and I thought that Mom would be back at any moment, like maybe she was away on business. Our out for a walk. Or just hiding.

But Mom did not come back, not for my entire childhood. And I was petulant and subversive, and Abby was reserved and controlling and she blamed me for having dropped out of school and I blamed her for just… not being Mom.

But in our adulthood, my mother did return home, sick and sorry to two children who barely spoke to each other in the morning." - Ghost Stories

Which would match up with the sister's animosity with him.

The difference here is that, out of the entire family, the boy knows that his sister actually loves him. And in Cecil's life, his sister is the only one he has made amends with. No matter how she treated him in the past, they are part of the same family once again. (As of 182, at least.)

Here, a direct parallel to Cecil is established. This boy's life mirrors his own.

Now, here's where it gets interesting.

Just as Cecil enters the tree, the boy is transformed into one

"He spent a lot of time in those next several months watching his family, their grief at his loss. His parents’ happiness at his sister’s education." - 132, Bedtime Story

There has been a lot of theorizing that Cecil's mother may have been covering the mirrors and leaving flowers because she was mourning Cecil, and not just his father.

"What was it your mother said before she left home when you were a teenager? Did she tell you she was an oracle?" - 171, Go to The Mirror?

It's entirely possible that Cecil's mother knew what would happen after she left, or had enough of an idea to subconsciously work it into a bedtime story.

It's possible that this is a glimpse of a timeline where Cecil really didn't survive entering the tree. His parents mourn, and his sister is allowed to pursue the education she wanted.  (Which, in all honesty, a pretty cruel burden to place on Cecil's shoulders. It's not his fault that their mother disappeared, leaving Abby to take care of him.)

Next, we watch the boy slowly lose his humanity as his awareness widens outside of himself.

"Time slowed for him, and his knowledge grew so vast and so expansive, human triumphs and pains became only a small sliver of his interest. There were much larger systems to comprehend than humanity." - 132, Bedtime Story

Cecil is canonically one of the people in Night Vale that time slowed down for. Like Earl, he has been stuck at a certain age for a long, long time.

"He had forgotten what he used to be." - 132, Bedtime Story

Cecil has canonically lost large parts of his past. He no longer remembers them.

"Later that spring, the woman and the man and the child brought a picnic and some games, and the tree was happy, but could not comprehend why. Nor did the tree intend to. The tree was simply happy, and this was a feeling that existed. Years later, the family wore black again and cried. And the tree felt sad, but it did not connect this feeling to any kind of narrative. It was simply sad, and this was a feeling that existed." - 132, Bedtime Story

The boy tree is becoming incredibly distanced from his family. (A woman, man, and child, just like Abby, Steve, and Janice.)

"You know, Cecil and I first met at one of these things. Seems like we should have met earlier than that. I had dated his sister for a while. But Cecil’s busy, he- he serves his community. He really gives himself to his community. Who do you live for, you know? Who do you give yourself to? Those are questions we should all be asking ourselves." - Steve in 100, Toast

Steve confirmed that Cecil was distant from his family and the people around him before Carlos came along, burying himself in his job.

And then an angel cuts down the tree.

"Over a few days, the tree and the fruits and the separated stump died. But the tree retained everything. As its body was planted into boards, as its twigs were ground into mulch, the tree felt the knowledge of each seed it had planted across the valley, each creature it had nourished with its fruits, and each piece of lumber built into a home for generations of humans to come.

The tree felt its branches burned in a fireplace, and it rose up as smoke and dissipated into carbon across the sky, coming down in trillions of molecules to build more soil, more trees, more creatures. The boy could truly learn everything now, cell by cell." - 132, Bedtime Story

Cecil has given himself to his community. This boy, this tree, has been divided and used up as a resource, to serve the community in which he lived. Not to mention the fact that Cassettes Cecil died before becoming the Voice, like this boy/tree was cut down before he could serve/understand his community.

"Cecil, sweet Cecil. Whose life lies directly on the fault lines of this broken reality." - Huntokar in 109, Huntokar

Patching together:

- this quote from Huntokar that gives off the impression of Cecil as the glue keeping the fractures together, and

- the way that Leonard Burton, a deceased Voice, is brought back the moment that Cecil left town, filling the vacant spot, and

- the way that Night Vale fell apart when its citizens rejected their reality, and began to be patched back together along with the narration of their Voice

It all leads to:

The Voice of Night Vale is a significant, needed position.

 It’s possible that he holds the fractured town together, in a way, his words reminding the citizens to keep their will and hold onto what is in front of them. (In the case that the cold light is the Smiling God, this gives it a motive. If it takes out Cecil, the town is left vulnerable for it to devour.)

Just like the tree, Cecil is used by his town.

His mother knew that he would become the Voice one day- it was prophesized. That’s the reason he was given the tape recorder, that’s the reason she told this story.

We still don’t know what was in the book in the table.

Then, this very interesting quote from 182:

“I’ve been in this job for a long time. Probably longer than I’ve been alive. I mean: you’ve been alive.”

He says the truth for a moment, then backs up because that doesn’t make sense to him. Coupled the way his mother’s story parallels Cecil’s, with boy becoming the tree, becoming a resource that serves the town and seeing all of it (similar to how Cecil knows what’s happening in the town and what its citizens are thinking without leaving his studio. See: every traffic report and episodes likes A Story About Them.) and Cecil mentioning the odd nature of his job in 182..

I think we’re about to learn exactly what it means to be the Voice.

[themoonlily]

It’s interesting to think of what kind of an impact Lothíriel has for the whole of Rohirric culture, considering there actually hasn’t been a queen in the land in decades. Théoden was married to a woman named Elfhild, who died around the time Théodred was born, but this happened before Théoden became king. He ruled alone for 40 years, and an entire generation grew without knowing a queen. 

So along comes Éomer, a young new king, and the royal line is all but spent, so he’d have a pretty high pressure on him to get married and have children. From this standpoint alone Lothíriel’s arrival would be significant, but I’m even more interested to think of how she adjusted to this role that’s been unfulfilled for so long that not many people even remember what it’s supposed to mean. It’s interesting to think how she’d learn to navigate it, and what she’d do to reinvent it. I would think Éomer would be very supportive of her and he’d want her to succeed, because he understands what it’s like to learn to fulfill a role you didn’t expect to have. Maybe he even thinks that she has a lot to give and that she can help him more than anyone, because I can’t imagine her growing up as Imrahil’s child and not learning a thing or two of ruling and politics. 

In some ways, this long absence of a queen could also make it easier for Lothíriel to take her new place: she’s still a foreigner, but when most people have no idea of what to expect, she can well decide who and what she wants to be. 

There’s also what she means to the women of Rohan. Do they feel like she’s their voice, which they didn’t have for a long time? How do they approach her, and do they go to her with their own concerns and petitions, hoping that she might speak favourably to her husband the King? Does she take interest in the many women who would have lost their husbands and sons and brothers in the War of the Ring? What kind of opportunities does Lothíriel give to the women she meets and might she even act as a patron for some of them?

Altogether, how do the young women see their new queen, who is near to their age? I can picture her being something of a ‘fashion icon’, bringing new modes of dress and hairstyles among Rohirric women. She herself may make a point of fusing Amrothian/Gondorian styles with Rohirric style into something new. She probably has to experiment with materials, as I’d imagine Rohan’s clime is not as mild as in Dol Amroth. A lot of what works on lighter fabrics is not for wools and brocades, and especially not for leather and furs. 

On the other hand, there is negotiating the culture of her birthland with Rohan’s, and adjusting to a marriage where parties come from fairly different backgrounds. I would think a clash or two is inevitable, but on the other hand, I also like to imagine that they support and complement one another better than anybody expected. She is more patient and cautious than him, he knows how to take action and how to lead. It may take some effort, but in the end, they find a way to bring the best of both worlds into their union, starting a new and very different era in the society and culture of Rohan. It’s not easily done, because there are always people who want things done as they always have been, and are suspicious of Lothíriel, even expecting her to turn the court life in Meduseld into some version of her father’s, or even King Elessar’s Gondorian court. Still, she and Éomer are popular enough that they can do things freely and invent their own version of society in Edoras (though it’s partly because there was no society to speak of during the war, and Wormtongue’s influence had all but snuffed out anything that resembled culture and freedom and community). So there are subtle touches here and there, customs and traditions Lothíriel has known since childhood, that are celebrated alongside the Rohirric ways. It’s possible because she also shows respect for her new people, learns their tongue and doesn’t try to push anything forcibly; when the situation calls for a more Rohirric approach, she will readily consult with Éomer or her Rohirric maids and friends on what is the proper conduct. Similarly, he will find out from her about Gondorian court protocol and even the more obscure customs; he won’t admit even to her that it’s not just because of wanting to learn, but also because he enjoys occasionally surprising the Gondorian society with his knowledge of some antique tradition that is partially forgotten even in Gondor.   

Old days are gone, but eventually even the most stubborn realise they’re not coming back - the world has changed too much, and there’s so much traffic between the free kingdoms anyway that influences travel between Edoras, Minas Tirith, Dol Amroth and even Dale in the North in ways not seen before. This time sees something of a renaissance for all the Mannish cultures when they’re finally able to direct more of their energy and resources to intellectual and cultural endeavors, and of course the War of the Ring provides them all with a huge boost for mythos, legend, song and all manner of creation as they try to understand this cataclysmic event that essentially changed their world. 

[cacoetheswriting]

unrequited love - spencer reid

Warnings: mild cursing, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of murder, usual criminal minds stuff tbh Word Count: 2.6k Requested By: anonymous : “can you write a spencer reid fic? something ansgsty maybe..”. 

--

No one understands why you do certain things even when you know you're never going to get anything back. - Shahul Hussain

QUANTICO, VIRGINA

The smell of freshly brewed coffee was probably your favourite, especially at ungodly hours of the morning. Closing your eyes for a brief moment you could feel a sort of calm and warmth surround you. The aroma slowly awoke your senses. Your lips touched the brim of the white mug in your hand and you took a slow sip.

“Good morning Y/L/N.” Derek Morgan appeared beside you. You looked up at him from your mug. “I brought you a coffee but I can see you couldn't wait.” He joked holding up a paper cup. “You know me Derek, I’ll take all the caffeine I can get.” You replied grabbing the cup from him. “Especially at four in the morning.” Derek smirked. “Yeah, they have to stop doing that to us.” 

With two coffees in hand, you made your way to the conference room. The rest of the team was already there. You sat at your usual seat, placing the coffees on the table in front of you, and turned your attention to the screen.

“Morning my lovelies.” Penelope began. “I would say good but there is nothing good about it given the case we have been asked to wor-” “Garcia.” Hotch interrupted briefly encouraging her to get to the point. “Right. Yes. No time to waste.” Penelope cleared her throat and fixed her glasses.

“Last night, twenty-five year old Millie Moore didn't return home after her shift at a bar in Riverside, California. Her body was discovered this morning in a dumpster behind her workplace.”

“The killer wanted her to be found.” JJ stated. There was a brief pause before Penelope continued. 

“The kidnapping and murder was linked to four other cases in the state of California spanning over the last month.” The images filled the screen causing you to clench your fists in disgust. 

The small rather insignificant action was observed by the brunette man sitting across from you. Unnoticed by everyone else at the table, Spencer’s eyes focused on your hands before travelling up to your face. He examined the look spread across your features, trying to figure out what was on your mind. 

“He definitely has a type.” Rossi noticed. “Any signs of sexual assault?” Derek questioned. “Yes, actually all of the victims displayed signs of uhm.” Garcia couldn’t bare to finish her sentence. 

“Given the small cooling off period between each victim, we need to assume the unsub has his next target already picked out.” Hotch stated. “Garcia can finish briefing us on the plane. Wheels up in twenty.”

The group nodded at each other and all got up from their seats - all but you. For some reason you couldn't avert your eyes from the gruesome images that filled the screen. 

“Y/N...” Spencer’s soft whisper brought you back to reality. He stood just a few steps away. You titled your head to look at him noticing a concerned look spread on his face. “They look like me Spence. The victims, they all look like me.” 

Spencer cleared his throat. “Humans in fact, aren’t that genetically diverse. So eventually, the numbers would dictate that certain features resembling yours and another persons will randomly combine.” He paused. 

“But that doesn’t mean they are an exact duplicate of you.” He smiled hoping you would smile back. “You’re right, sorry. It’s just a little weird.” “We’ve had weirder.” Spencer said as you got to your feet. The young doctor grabbed one of the coffees for you as you grabbed the other and followed you out to the pit. 

“You know caffeine increases alertness by blocking a brain chemical called adenosine that makes you feel tired, while at the same time triggering the release of adrenalin that’s known to increase energy.” Spencer stated placing the coffee cup he was holding on your desk. 

“If the amount of caffeine is high enough, these effects are stronger, resulting in caffeine-induced anxiety.” You finished the fact for him, slightly rolling your eyes. “Yes Spence, I know. You tell me this every time I have more than one mug in the morning.” The smart doctor shrugged smiling at you. He grabbed his go-bag from underneath his desk and waited for you. 

The friendship you shared with Spencer was an odd one. The two of you were quite close when you were still at the academy. He helped you study for all your tests and was always one to share tips on how to complete certain tasks. 

A couple of years go by without contact. At that point you were a field agent in New York, which is where you reconnected on a case. The spark was instant although neither of you wanted to admit it. This time Spencer stayed in touch. It was clear then that whatever undiscovered feelings he had for you back when you first met resurfaced - but you weren’t ready to explore whether you felt the same.

Next thing you know you were getting a call from Aaron Hotchner with an offer to join the BAU. Something, you later found out, Spencer had fought to get organised. 

It felt like you played with his heart. To an outsider it probably even looked like that - he fell in love with a girl and landed her a dream job in hopes that she would love him back. 

RIVERSIDE, CALIFORNIA

“What if we’re dealing with a disgruntled boyfriend or husband?” JJ posed the question. “He lost someone in his life that resembled the victims.” “Then why kill them?” Derek questioned. 

The team was gathered around a conference table brainstorming. Spencer was the only one not sitting down, not unusual for Dr. Reid. He was pacing around the bullpen talking on the phone, probably with Penelope. 

Your eyes lingered on the back of his head for a moment through the glass window. Something Derek noticed immediately. “Where’s your head at Y/L/N?” You turned your attention to the rest of the team. “What if JJ is right in a way? But rather than a significant other, what if the unsub was rejected by these women or someone who looks like them?” 

Derek nodded his head in understanding. Your eyes scanned the team waiting for anyone sitting at the table to suggest something else. It was Rossi who opened his mouth next however whatever was on his mind was interrupted by Spencer storming into the room.

“Where’s your mind at pretty boy?” Derek questioned leaning back in his chair. “I spoke with Garcia. All of the victims had social media accounts and tagged-” He approached the map pinned to one of the boards. “- three different spots in this location before they were murdered.” With a red pen, Spencer circled one area on the map. 

“The hunting ground.” Rossi stated and everyone else nodded.

“Let’s split up.” Hotch began. “Reid, go with Y/L/N. Derek and Rossi, and JJ you’re with me. I’ll get Garcia to send us the exact addresses, hopefully one of these places will bring us a step closer to catching the unsub.” 

The team got to their feet and one by one left the conference room, leaving you alone with Spencer. “Ready partner?” He asked smiling at you. “Always.” 

It didn't take long to get there, traffic was unusually quiet for California. Plus whenever you’re with Spencer the conversation flow makes the moments pass by quickly - you never run out of things to talk about.

“Looks closed.” You said getting out of the car, shutting the door behind you. “Strange, it’s the middle of the day.” Spencer noted as he walked around the hood. The two of you glanced at each other before moving forward towards the entrance of the coffee shop.

The door wasn't locked so you made your way inside. A small ‘ding’ from the bell above your heads signalised you have entered the premises. An eerie feeling came over you. 

The lights were switched off. The chairs were placed neatly on the tables. Menus were carefully stacked beside the register, sugar bowls placed in a row along the countertop. A wet floor sign was placed in the middle of the room. You walked around it carefully, that’s when you noticed the strong smell. 

“Is that?” You asked looking at Spencer. “It smells like bleach.” The young doctor stated back, his hand travelled to his gun. Slowly, with one hand on your weapon holster, you made your way around the countertop. That’s when you felt someone grab you from behind. A shriek escaped your mouth getting Spencer’s attention. 

The unknown male held your arms behind your back as he led you back towards the middle of the coffee shop - using you as a human shield. He kicked over the yellow sign and stopped. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, it made you sick. “Let her go.” Spencer stated sternly, pointing his gun.

“I’m going to walk out of here.” The male said. “And you’re going to let me.” You watched Spencer shake his head. “I can’t let you do that.” His response wasn't what the man wanted to hear. Frustrated, he drew your weapon from the holster and placed it to your temple causing the air to catch in your throat.

“How about now?” The man sounded angrier. He could sense your fear, just like you could sense Spencer’s. The young doctor met your gaze briefly before looking back at the man holding you. 

“What’s your name?” Spencer asked. The man scoffed. “I’m not telling you shit!” “Tell me your name and maybe we can sort something out.” Spencer said calmly, his gun still pointing in your direction.

There was a brief moment of heavy silence before the man snarled: “You first.”

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid and the woman you are now holding at gunpoint, that’s Agent Y/N Y/L/N.” You could feel the man shift, as if he was trying to get a better look at you before he turned his attention to Spencer again. “Theo.” He said simply. 

“Nice to meet you Theo. How old are you Theo?” “What’s that got to do with anything?!” 

Your whole body was shaking at this point. 

“O-okay Theo. Tell me this instead, why did you kill all of those women?” “I didn’t hurt anyone!” Theo snapped. “Only a guilty man would hold a federal agent at gunpoint.” Spencer pointed out. “Shut up!” Theo lowered the gun from your temple and pointed it at Spencer. A lone tear escaped the corner of your eye. 

“Why did you kill them Theo?” Spencer asked again. 

“They deserved it.” Theo answered after a brief moment of silence. “They hurt me!” “How did they hurt you Theo?” The man’s grip around you tightened. “They just hurt me!” He screamed. “Now let me go or I swear, she’s next!” The gun was back at your temple. 

Spencer met your scared gaze. The look in his eye was almost as if to say everything was going to be okay, that he was going to get you out of this. You tried to smile. You even mouthed “It’s okay.” at which Spencer’s jaw locked - he wasn’t going to lose you, not like this. 

“Those women hurt you Theo? I know exactly what that feels like.” Spencer said calmly. “Being hurt by someone you love.” You could feel Theo nod against your head. His grip loosened slightly.  

“Do you know what unrequited love is Theo?” Spencer asked and without waiting for a response continued. “It’s love not reciprocated or returned. It’s when you love someone and they don't love you back, they don't acknowledge your love.” Spencer stated. At this point you were crying. Lone droplets escaped your eyes and traced down your cheeks. 

“That’s how those women made you feel, right? As if you weren’t worthy to love them.” Spencer said. You could feel the hurt in his voice.

“They didn't see me.” Theo said, his voice shaky. “They didn't care!” He exclaimed taking a step forward. In doing so, his grip around you loosened completely and you were able to turn around while grabbing his arm that was holding the gun.

Theo kneed you in the stomach causing you to fall back a little. When you looked up he had the gun pointed at you. 

“If you shoot her, I shoot you.” Spencer said sternly, his weapon once again drawn and pointed at the unsub. Theo scoffed. “She's the one that hurt you, isn't she?” Spencer didn't respond. “I figure I’d be doing you a favour then.” 

The sound of the gun being cocked caused your heart to stop. Yet Spencer was quicker. He fired one shot, hitting Theo in the shoulder. This enabled you to overpower the unsub and disarm him.

“Call for backup.” The young doctor said kneeling down beside you. “Spence-” “Call for backup.” He repeated without looking at you. Without saying another word, that’s exactly what you did. 

BAU Jet

The sound of silence filled the plane. Everyone was exhausted to say the least, and catching up on necessary sleep. Yet every time you closed your eyes you felt uncomfortable. Spencer’s words from the coffeeshop kept ringing in your ears, the broken look on his face overwhelmed your brain. 

Slowly, you got to your feet and walked down the jet. The young doctor was sitting alone at the back of the aircraft, head buried in a book. 

“Hey.” You whispered loud enough to get his attention. His head popped up, his eyes met yours. “Hi.” 

“Mind if I sit down?” You asked politely pointing to the empty seat. “Not at all. Make yourself comfortable.” He placed the book down as you made yourself comfortable. 

“Can’t sleep?” “I could ask you the same thing.” Spencer replied. “Well, having a gun pointed to your head isn’t exactly dreaming material.” You breathed with a soft smile. Spencer nodded his head.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“I wanted to thank you.” You said. “For saving my life.” “I was just doing my job.” Spencer replied. “Right.” You sighed and leaned your head back on the chair, breaking eye contact.

“Y/N-” “I’m sorry Spencer.” You interrupted. Confused, the young doctor asked: “Why are you apologising?” “For hurting you.” Slowly, you tilted your head to once again look at the brown haired man. His head was down, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“I’m sorry for making you feel as if you weren't worthy.” “I just said that to get the unsub’s attention. I said that so he would let you go.” “We both know that's not true Spencer.” 

The young doctor sighed. “I don't know what you want me to say Y/N.” He whispered while turning his head in your direction. “You don't need to say anything.” 

Spencer lifted his hand and slowly using one finger placed a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he did. A shiver ran down your spine at the touch. 

“I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.” Spencer said, his hand now holding your face. “However, you made it obvious you don’t feel that way about me so I’ve done my best to just be your friend.” He sighed. “Y/N it’s getting really hard to just be your friend.”

He let his hand fall before shifting his body weight away from you. He leaned his head against the aircraft and looked out the window. 

Tears formed in your eyes. “Spence.” You whispered but he didn't respond. Instead, the young doctor closed his eyes.

You knew better than to keep pushing. With your fingers, you wiped the tears from your face and made yourself comfortable before also closing your eyes. 

Hoping you’d drift asleep quickly your mind wondered. Tomorrow, you would talk to him again tomorrow and everything would be just fine. Right?

Never pretend to a love which you do not actually feel, for love is not ours to command. - Alan Watts

--

masterlist

[levisnackajack]

Unquenchable Delicacies

Chapter IV

“Y/N...” 

Much to your reluctance, you opened your eyes, hissing soundly as the brightness of the light above you burned your irises. 

After recollecting yourself, you tried once more, this time slower. The medication had slurred reality with your mind, the effect taking its sweet time to ware off. 

“Anakin?” You mumbled out, your voice sounding off in the far distance. You heard someone awkwardly clear their throat out before they stepped closer to your cot. 

“I’m afraid Anakin is not present, Padawan L/N. How are you feeling?” Obi-Wan’s voice fluttered around you, each syllable slowly pronounced clearer and clearer. You groaned, head pounding ferociously. If whatever pierced through you didn’t manage to kill you; this headache seemed to have wanted to do exactly that.

“I’m...fine. What happened?”

Master Obi-Wan pursed his lips tightly, the crease between his brows deepening as you sensed his mind distantly recalling the disasters that made up the eve of the Chancellor’s celebratory event. 

“Well, you saved the Chancellor’s life. Unbeknownst to how the attacker stayed unnoticed between Anakin and I; your quick reflexes and selfless persona caught sight of him and you swung yourself before the Chancellor, taking the shot.” 

You glanced down at the plaster-white bandage twisted around your waist. You ran your fingers along the material, trying to feel where the wound was, but Obi-Wan gently moved your hand away. 

“Let it heal. The plasma energy shot at you missed your stomach by a few mere inches. It’s a deep wound, but lucky for us all, no significant organ was damaged. You’ve been in and out of sleep trances for the past few days, thanks to the medication. But, that is only because when it happened, the shot sent you into shock and we needed to stabilize you as quickly as possible,” Obi-Wan explained, smiling sadly down at your exhausted facade. 

You nodded, running a hand through your hair. “I understand. Thank you for explaining. May I ask where my Master is?” You tried controlling your tone, but the mention of Anakin sent a jolt of electricity through to your heart. Obi-Wan looked away, concealing his hands between the sleeves of his robe. 

“I’m afraid, he left Coruscant. Once this all happened, Anakin decided to take on a mission; leaving without even telling me. Do not take offence, dear Y/N. Anakin probably did it in an attempt to deal with the traumas of that night. After all, losing a Padawan would hurt just as much as it does losing a Master,” he offered apologetically as your face strained into a hurt scowl. “Please, get some rest,” Obi-Wan continued, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder before departing the Jedi Temple’s medical bay. 

You sighed loudly, feeling deeply disappointed that Anakin had left so abruptly. Did he not care about you enough to wait a day or two until you woke up? Did he despise you that much? 

Questions rolled in and out of your mind as you glared up at the ceiling; the medical machinery around you beeping loudly. You were so deep in your hurt thoughts; you barely even noticed the medical droid that popped into your room to check your vitals and change your bandages. 

Another two days passed and your only hobby seemed to be staring into the void of your room’s ceiling. Sometimes, Obi-Wan would come by- try to make you laugh or just keep you company- the fear of losing you to insanity all too real for him. 

You denied the food they were giving you- claiming that exhaustion was taking the best out of you. But really, it was the unforgiving sadness and disappointment caused by the fact that your Master wasn’t present beside you during these new, hard times. You spitefully began missing his irritating jokes and how insulted he would get if you said anything about his job as a general and Jedi. 

But alas, time passed by and you were finally allowed to check out of the medical bay and return to continue your healing in your quarters. 

________________________________________________________________

Walking through the Temple seemed a mission on its own, as people stared and spoke in hushed voices as you passed by. Nonetheless, you kept your head high as you wordlessly made your way back to your quarters. But, your pacing slowed as you felt the Force ripple around you, sensing someone you were all too familiar with. 

Anakin. 

You followed the Force, palms sweating as your mind raced with thoughts that mixed with the various emotions flowing through your blood vessels. 

However, when you saw him engaging in a deep conversation with Senator Padmé Amidala; all these confusing emotions seemed to be quickly replaced by a stab of sadness and something else. 

Something that made your heart clench a certain way. 

Though you knew it wasn’t the right thing to do; you ignored your consciousness as you walked closer to them, trying to pick up on what they were saying. Alas, they were too far away- but you could tell that they were having a deep conversation about something that made Anakin frown at her apologetically as she persistently attempted to get him to respond back. 

He stepped back, eyes catching sight of his Padawan. His customary tight expression was replaced by a soft contortion as he excused himself and began striding towards you. Senator Amidala’s gaze followed him wordlessly; shifting towards you as a sigh escaped her lips. You had always felt as though there had been something going on between her and your master. Alas, you were in no position to question Anakin about his personal life. 

“Y/N,” Anakin began gingerly, earning an ice-cold shoulder from your behalf as you marched past him; stomach clenching uncomfortably. 

Without turning to look back, you hurried towards your initial destination- the comforts of your bleak quarters. You needed to be as far away from him as possible, afraid that you’ll unleash the wrath that was entirely directed towards him. 

Right as you slammed the door of your room; it rudely snapped open- revealing the one individual you had tried escaping from. 

“What was that for?” Anakin growled out angrily, blowing the door shut behind him. 

You stood in the center of your room, your back facing him as you glared out of your window and into the commotion happening on the air traffic routes. 

When your silence became his apparent answer; Anakin gritted his teeth and advanced towards you, the weight of his hand on your shoulder holding you hostage as he tried twisting you around to face him. 

“Don’t touch me,” you snapped, stepping away from him as you shrugged his hand off of you. Anakin widened his eyes before trying to calm himself, the Force between you prodding at the growing pressure building in the room. 

“Why are you acting like a child?” He said calmly, voice giving away the shake of irritation and anger he was trying to hide, but to no avail. 

You shook your head, letting out a cold, humorless chuckle. 

“I bet Jedi business with Senator Amidala and everything else for that matter will always be a top priority. Why was I stupid enough to expect my own Master waiting for me to wake up in the medical bay?” You were thankful that you were facing the other way; although it would have probably made you feel better when the sound of your words left a hurt expression on the features of your young master. 

“Is this what it’s all about? If you really want to know, I was-” 

“Yeah yeah. General Skywalker went on a super dangerous mission to try and please the Council so they can see that you are perfectly able of earning the ‘Master’ ranking without having to train a Padawan. Good for you. Congratul-” You harshly interrupted him, waving your hand in the air nonchalantly. 

What caught you by surprise was how Anakin took that to his advantage as he grabbed hold of your wrist- roughly pulling you to finally face him. That completely stripped you of your confidence as you stared up at him- eyes wide and filled with bewilderment. Your noses were so close to brushing as he bitterly looked into your eyes; jaw clenching and unclenching firmly. 

“Be quiet!” He barked, making you wince as the roughness of his loud voice pierced your eardrums. 

“Why do you always have the tendency to paint me as the bad guy? Sure, I thought that I didn’t need a Padawan- but here we are. Did you ever stop to think that maybe I left Coruscant to follow the fool who shot you? Oh no, you can’t possibly put that through your thick head because ‘I don’t take you and your training seriously and there’s always something more important than you.’ Well, think again,” he spat out, brusquely letting go of your wrist before running a hand through his hair. 

Tears threatened to pool into your eyes as you stubbornly stared at the floorboard; the sound of Anakin pacing back and forth causing frustration to overwhelm you. 

“I’m sorry, Anakin.” 

He halted in his footsteps, the feeling of his deep-blue eyes boring into your self. 

“Yeah, you really should be.” 

You both stood stationary, neither of you facing each other. You tried to apologize again mentally, but he manipulated the Force to push you out of his mind. You sighed, your chest constricting as you turned to face him. 

Anakin looked ridiculously tall in your tiny quarters, it almost made you chuckle. His head was bent downwards, staring at his boots, fists clenched tightly into punches. You slowly- almost cautiously- walked to stand beside him, the moonlight blended with the series of lights emitted from the buildings in front of you lighting up both of your faces. You couldn’t help but notice the twinge of hurt and pain concealed behind his deep frown as he refused to look down at you. 

“I’m so sorry, Ani. I shouldn’t have been so ignorant.” 

Maybe it was the rawness behind your soft voice; or maybe it was the use of his nickname that you would often play with when you want to mess with him; that made Anakin finally shift his solid gaze onto you. You held onto your breath as you waited for him to say something. Anything. 

“I’m sorry too.” 

Shaking your head, you locked eyes with him- the action burning you from the inside out. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“That’s not true. I left you without saying a word. It wasn’t very ‘Jedi’ of me to let my anger control me...but the only thing that filled my mind was how badly I wanted to hunt this person down and harm him...for hurting you,” Anakin said in a low voice, eyes dropping to your bandages framed by your Jedi robes. 

You were about to say something as you opened your mouth, but Anakin continued, his fingers brushing your jawline. “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something had happened to you.” 

All you could do was stare at him. You gaze swept across his troubled face- his scar, his knitted eyebrows, his pursed lips, his defined jawline, his messy hair. You gave into his touch, head tilting towards his fingers, a silent plead to strengthen the calloused pressure of his caressing. 

His hand moved his fingers, trailing an invisible map from the side of your face- and for a split second- to your lips before continuing onward to your throat. He let out a shaky breath, swallowing hard before letting go of you- too soon for your liking. He noticed the discontent his action brought into you; but stayed silent, his blue eyes seeking yours- the intensity making you feel as though he was memorizing every perfection, every imperfection that made you up. 

“Get some rest, Y/N, I’ll come see you tomorrow. Good night,” Anakin whispered to you softly, his gruff voice sounding like velvet as it trickled through you. 

You let go of a breath, (E/C) hues following his frame as he walked towards the door. You couldn’t help the vibration of his name escape your lips as he turned to face you, in question. 

“You know, if our roles had reversed that night, I would have reacted the same way.” 

That made him smile, the dim light coming through your windows revealing the gleam in his eyes. 

“I know.” 

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A/N 

Omg, this chapter is definitely one of my favs at the moment. I’m currently midway through rewatching ‘Revenge of the Sith’ but I’m very much avoiding the ending bc if I don’t watch it...  ✨ it never happened ✨ 

But anyway, I can’t believe that today I got noticed by one of my favorite accounts on this app @anakinswhore omfg the fact that you read and REBLOGGED my story means the world to me, bb!! I can promise you that when I finally write their smut scene (whenever that happens hehehe), I’ll dedicate it to u! 

Thank you to everyone who’s read, liked and reblogged the story up to now- much love

till next time ;) 

EnVy

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Taglist: 

@shads121 @musictelevision @anakinswhore

[lonelyreputation]

Beach Tagger

A/N:  Hi hi!! Switching up from my usual angst and writing a bit of fluff ☺️ I love reading whatever you all have to say––it brightens up my day! Let me know if you have any requests or just want to chat! I loooooveeee making new friends💗 

I’m trying to build up my masterlist so please if you have anything you want to request, my inbox is wide open!!

(come request or chat if you’d like)

Warnings: None :)

Word Count: 4.6K

“And I’m telling you,” you took your bike out of the garage and put the kick stand in place before turning around to face Shawn, “It’ll be less crowded on second street.”

Shawn took hold of the handlebars of your brother’s bike and rolled it out, “But you said that there weren’t any shops or restaurants down that end.”

Once Shawn was out of the garage, you walked over to the electric security pad that had control to open and close the doors.  You dialed in the digits of your grandma and grandpa’s birthday and watched the pad light up green as the garage doors began coming down.

“Do you want to get noticed?”

Shawn stood quietly for a few moments.  It was day three of your five day mini-vacation visiting your grandma at her beach house and Shawn had yet to be spotted.  The two of you were granted privacy with the house being located on the back bay.  During the days you could swim, kayak, and paddle board without anyone bothering the two of you––besides your cousins and family.

It was all very serene; lounging around the family bay house, with your boyfriend, that you had spent every summer at.  You had given Shawn a tour on the first day of all the essential places you spent most of your time as a kid.  You took him by the best pizza shop in town, best ice-cream parlor, the soccer field you had camp at when you were ten, the alley way you turned down when you broke your wrist, and where you had your first job selling popcorn on the boardwalk.

The beach town was something straight out of a Nicholas Sparks novel, a tiny quaint town where everyone knew each other’s business, but that didn’t stop the reality of Shawn’s persona.  The first few days of the week were fine, you were able to take Shawn out to the boardwalk without anyone noticing him with his sunglasses and hat, but now it was the weekend.  And the weekend meant that everyone from the mainland and bordering states would make the two hour drive down to the beach for a little getaway.

The beach town would be crawling with girls who would no doubt spend every minute of their weekend hunting for Shawn.

Finally, he shrugged his shoulders, “I guess you’re right.”

You didn’t like the dejected tone of his voice.  So you left you bike and walked over to him.  He was toying with the gear shift on the bike when you placed your hand on top of his, “If we get hungry we can bike down––or even walk––it’s not that far, promise.”

A small smile made its way onto his face as he flipped his hand over to squeeze your hand, “Sounds good.”

“Good,” you smiled as you removed your hand and went back to your bike.  You kicked the kick stand up and lifted yourself up on the bike, “It’s like a 3 mile ride––“ Shawn’s jaw dropped, “––It’s all on flat ground!” You defended the mileage and gave him a once over, “And besides, you’re in shape, you can handle it.”

Shawn smirked as he slightly lowered his black sunglasses, “Checking me out, y/n?”

Even though Shawn was your boyfriend, you still blushed profusely, “I––Well, yeah.  Yeah, I was.”

Shawn laughed and swung his leg over to the other side of the bike, “Good.”  He then lifted himself up and peddled out of your cobblestone driveway and down the street, “Lead the way!”

You rolled your eyes and started peddling fast to catch up to Shawn.  It was a little harder for you to speed up than him because you had a cruiser while he had your brother’s mountain bike.  And while it was flat land you would be biking on, it was hot out.

Conversation was kept to a minimum biking down the main road, but when you led Shawn down the bike road, you were able to ride side by side and not worry about speeding cars.  The bike road was the street over from the main shopping district of the town, so you were able to hear the chatting of people instead of the ocean waves.  

Even though you and Shawn were riding in tandem, the conversation was still nonexistent.  Shawn would occasionally ask you about certain areas you two had passed and if they had any significance in your childhood.  Most of the time you always had a story for a place.

You had soon made it down to second street and just had to ride up the street in order to get to the beach.  Waiting at traffic lights annoyed you, so you and Shawn would play “what are the odds” whenever you were stuck at a red light.  

Shawn lost a round right when you pulled up to the boardwalk path that led to the beach.  He was supposed to drink out of the spicket that beachgoers used to rinse off their sandy shoes.  

“Please don’t,” you pleaded with him as you chained both of your bikes to the railing, “I don’t want Andrew calling me up asking me how you got dysentery on your vacation with me.”

Shawn shrugged and placed the two beach chairs on the sidewalk as he hovered over the spicket with a scrunched up nose, “When you lose odds, you lose odds, and if there’s nothing I stand by more it’s the rules to that game.”

You snorted, “That makes me feel confident tin our relationship.”

Shawn whipped his head up with a smile, “Odds are a way of life.”

With a roll of your eyes, you plucked your backpack out of the wicker basket attached to your bike and slung it over your shoulders, “C’mon, we’re wasting time and it’s a stupid game please don’t––Shawn!  That is disgusting!”

He was only hunched over for less than a second before he turned the water off and wiped the water on his mouth off with the back of his hand, “That was pure salt water.”

“No shit,” you walked up to him and smacked him in the middle of his chest, “We’re next to the beach.”

With no response to his stupidity, Shawn took hold of your hand as he bent down to grab the handles of the beach chairs you would be using.  The two of you walked up the sandy boardwalk ramp and you were prepared to see a beach tagger sitting in a chair at the bottom fo the ramp.  

You were expecting to see a beach tagger that you knew.  One of your friends who lives in the beach town year round had worked the second street beach location for the past year and a half.  But he wasn’t sitting in the navy blue chair designated for beach taggers.  There was a teenage girl who looked to be sixteen.

Immediately your hands began to sweat and Shawn looked down at you curiously.  You chalked it up to being hot from the bike ride and just needing to get in the water.  He seemed to believe it.

It felt like walking to the beach tagger took ages, but in reality it was a ten second walk down the ramp.  She was reading a book and didn’t pay attention to you two at all, “Do you need to buy a day tag?”

You shook your head, “Uh––No.  We have season passes––here,” you brought up the strings of your back pack where you had two beach tags pinned.  

The girl dog eared her book and looked up at you before looking at the passes, “You’re good to––“ her abrupt stop to her sentence made you wince.  You knew she looked up again at you.  And you knew that she looked up at your boyfriend, not expecting to see Shawn Mendes, “…Go.” She cautiously finished up her sentence.

“Cool, right, yeah––Thanks.”  You took off down the dunes and dragged Shawn along.  

“What are you––Slow down,” Shawn whined as he kicked up some sand.  You slowed down a bit, but as you did, you turned your head over your shoulder and saw the teenage beach tagger not engrossed in her book like she had been before.  She was rapidly typing on her phone.

You knew she was telling someone she saw Shawn when she turned her head and made eye contact with you.  Her smile was giddy, and you couldn’t blame her.  Working as a beach tagger was literally sitting and do nothing for hours.  It was boring.  And now she had just seen Shawn, a musical performer that you assumed she liked, and it had probably made her entire summer.

“She noticed you,” You muttered under your breath as you and Shawn found a good place to set up your chairs. 

Shawn unfolded a chair and pushed it into the sand,“Hm?”

“The beach tagger,” you nudged your head over in the direction you had just come from as you unbuttoned your shorts and flung the t-shirt over your head.  You took the sun tan lotion out of your backpack, “She noticed you and she’s telling people she saw you.”

Shawn rolled his eyes as he got the second chair in place and took the sun tan lotion from you, “So what?”

“So,” you stressed as Shawn began rubbing the lotion in on your back, “People will find out that you’re here and mob you.”  Your eyes involuntarily closed as you felt Shawn’s hands work deep on your shoulder blades, “We did so well the past few days.”

Shawn laughed as he brought his hands on your shoulders, lifting your bikini straps so he could get sun tan lotion under them, “We were cooped up in your house for three days.”

“We still went out and did stuff!”  You exclaimed as Shawn glided his arms down your arms to wipe away any excess sun tan lotion.  Your breath grew shallower as he slid his hands slowly down to your hands and played with your fingers.  He intertwined your hands and pulled your back into his chest.  

Shawn then crossed your tangled arms over your stomach as he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder, “I don’t care,” he kissed your cheek, “I like being in public with you.”

His breath was hot as he hung over your ear for a split second before untangling one of his hands and trailing it up the front of your stomach, “Although…If she hadn’t seen us maybe we could’ve been a bit more…” he let his sentence trail off and your eyes widened when you felt Shawn’s fingertips lightly graze under your bikini top.

“I think your mother would absolutely cut your head off if she saw any pictures like that in any publication.”

Shawn let out an overdramatic sigh as he removed his fingers the under part of your top piece and hooked his arm around your waist, “I know,” he squeezed you tight, “Such a shame.”

You laughed and untangled yourself from him.  You picked up the sunscreen and squirted some lotion into your hand, “Now, if there’s one thing Andrew will call me up about, it’ll be because of how burnt you got.”

With no response, because Shawn knew you were right on that one, he turned around and bent his knees so you could lather up his back.  You took longer than necessary, wanting to spend more than necessary feeling every crevice of his back.  By the time you had applied three coats to him and told him almost done for the seventh time, you knew it was time to stop.

The next few minutes the two of you applied sunscreen to your face, arms, legs, and Shawn insisted he get your stomach.  Can’t ever be too prepared for the sun, he said, you could always miss a spot.

And you never denied having Shawn’s hands roam your body.

It was just after twelve, with the sun being at its hottest point during the day, and all you wanted to do was jump in the ocean.  The smell of the salt water and squawk of the seagulls mocked you for not being allowed in.

“You have to let it soak in,” Shawn berated you, “You grew up on the water, don’t you know that?”

“I do,” you grumbled as you leaned back into your chair, “I just feel really sticky from the sun tan lotion.”

Shawn muttered something about you being needy and you kicked sand his way.  After a few more moments of sitting down, Shawn stood up and held his hands out for you to take, “Up.” 

You didn’t question his simple command and reached your hands out to grasp onto him.  When your hands connected you couldn’t ignore the jolt of electricity that still zipped through your veins like the first time you had ever touched him.

He dropped one of your hands, but kept the other hand held tight in his.  Just like you had told him, there was barley anyone on the second street beach.  It was more residential up this way of the town and all of the weekenders went to the main strip of the boardwalk to have easy access to food, bathrooms, and mini golf.

You meandered down toward the ocean and walked up to where the ocean waves just met the shore line.  The two of you just stood there, watching the tide bring in little broken shells and then take them back out to the ocean.  After a few moments, Shawn squeezed your hand and the two fo you began walking along the shallow part of the water.

“Thought we had to wait to get wet,” You chuckled as the waves barely covered your feet for ten seconds.

Shawn kicked some water, “Needed to cool off, plus, I think our feet are fine.”

You hummed in response, not knowing what else to say.  

Conversation was never pressured in your relationship.  The two of you prided yourselves on enjoying each others company more than anything else.  But there was something off with this offbeat silence of ocean waves.

“Talk to me,” You nudged his shoulder with yours and looked up at him.  He looked down at you with a fond smile, “Something’s up.”

Shawn nudged your shoulder back and chuckled, “I’m fine.”

You rolled your eyes, “Did you really just pull the I’m fine card with me?”  Your tone was light hearted, but when Shawn’s unnerving silence carried on, you changed your tone to one more of concern, “Are you nervous for tour?”

“Will you miss me at all?”

Shawn didn’t miss a beat with his response.  It was as if he had the question echoing around his head all day and was just waiting for the right time to bring it up.  The point of the mini-vacation was to spend as much time with Shawn before he jetted off to Europe to embark on a summer tour.  He had already completed his rehearsals so right after this weekend was done, he would be flying to New York City to meet up with Andrew and the rest of his crew, and then flying over to Amsterdam.

You had met Shawn through a mutual friend at university when he happened to show up at one of the house parties.  And since then, the two of you were constantly together; whether it be on FaceTime, phone calls, texting–literally anything.  Right from the start Shawn had expressed interest in you and wanted to skip the whole friends first phase.

He was impatient, but it was a decision that you agreed with.  His personality was infectious and his laugh was addicting.  You didn’t want to waste any time pretending like you weren’t interested in him.  

That was October and it was now the first week of June.  The only time you experienced Shawn on tour was for his Jingle Bell tour run in December.  And while he was just in the United States, it was still complicated to keep up with his schedule and tour demands.  It was early on in your relationship that you had to learn to adapt to his lifestyle.  He thought it made him undesirable, but it made you appreciate being in his presence and seeing his smile a million times more.

But a European tour was different.  This was day after day for months on end with an intense time zone difference.  It was going to be difficult, you didn’t lie to yourself about that, but you were confident enough in your relationship that it wouldn’t change anything. 

So when Shawn instantly asked you––will you miss me at all––at all––In the least confident voice you had ever heard come from his mouth, you felt your heart get carried away with the tide.

“I––Of course I’ll miss you,” you spoke in a strained voice, not liking whenever this topic was brought up, “I––I’ll miss you everyday, Shawn, but you’re going to have so much fun.” You squeezed his hand.

He sighed and ran a hand through his curls.  One of them bouncing back in place, “I know…I know…I just––I don’t know.”

“Hey,” you stopped walking.  It took Shawn a few seconds before he was pulled back since he was continuing walking down the beach and you came to a standstill.  You squeezed his hand and spoke softly, “We have a plan, we’ve talked about this.”

Shawn kept his eyes trained out toward the ocean’s horizon, a far off look in his eyes; pain. 

“I know––I don’t even know why I said that––Just, forget it.  It’s not important.”  He went to start walking, but again, he was pulled back by your hands still being connected and you standing still, “Y/n…” 

You tugged on his hand again until he stood next to you.  Both of you were now looking out into the unknown ocean, “It’ll be hard,” you gulped and Shawn responded with a monotone yeah, “But we can do it.  It’ll be hard, but we’ve done some distance before, this is just a bit…longer,” you realized that what you were saying wasn’t really helping the situation.

You sighed, “I’ll always pick up your calls.”

“What if you’re at your internship?” He fired back.

“Then I might not answer it,” you answered honestly, “But––I’ll say I have take a bathroom break and then I’m all yours for fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?” It was the first time Shawn broke concentration with the ocean and stared at you with wide eyes, “That’s a fucking long bathroom break.”

You shrugged and offered him a soft closed lipped smile, “I’ll just say it was a terrible shit.”

Shawn tilted his head back in laughter.  His eyes were shut tight and his mouth let out a laugh so pleasing that you wished to be the only one to hear it for the rest of time, “They’ll never let you go to the bathroom again––Or––Or they’ll have you clean it up.”

Again, you shrugged and smiled up at him, “Worth it if I get to talk to you.”

“Even if I have to hang up like thirty seconds later?”  Shawn’s voice returned to its anxious state, “Even if you call back like right after I call and I don’t pick up––“

“It’s all worth it,” you leaned into his side and brought a hand around his waist.  He slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, “Even if I get your voicemail.”

“I’ll miss you,” Shawn spoke lowly.  The raw tone of passion and honesty that he held in his voice sent chills down your spine that made you want to wrap yourself in a blanket in the middle of summer, “I’ve––I don’t think I’ve missed anymore more than you before and I haven’t even left yet.”

You never felt a smile overtake your face just like the one you had plastered on your face right now, “Good,”  you were sure your smile was blinding the sun, “Because I love you too much for you not to miss–––“

You cut yourself off faster than the thought left your lips.  I love you too much.  You had been in a relationship for around eight months––close to a year––and the two of you knew that you loved each other, but it’s just never been spoke out loud before.  Shawn knew your reservations with that word and respected it.  It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in love, or had a bad history with an ex-partner, but it was the commitment that the word brought out.  It was commitment that this relationship had potential to be something more than just boyfriend and girlfriend.  

Love was the closet thing that the world had to magic; it seemed too dangerous to throw around something so magnificent in power.

Your mouth went dry, “I––Well, you––You’re gonna be gone for so long and I––You better not miss Brian more than me or we’ll have a serious issue––But like, I get he’s your best friend, but I’m your girlfriend––Eh––Hold on, that sounded really possessive and weird because like––I like Brian and I like your friends––Your whole world shouldn’t revolve around me––“

“I love you, too.”

“Because if it revolved around me, then we wouldn’t have a healthy relationship and––What?”

Shawn tilted his head and shifted your body so that you were in front of him, eyes locked, “I love you.”

“You––What?”  It was the second time Shawn spoke those words to you, but you still couldn’t process the information.

“I love–––“

Your eyes closed as your heart opened up, waiting for Shawn to kiss you after telling you he loved you again.  His lips softly touched yours before he was interrupted from finishing the sentence you wanted to hear from him and only him for the rest of your life.

“Are––Are you Shawn Mendes?”

It was a bit of an awkward situation.  Shawn had his hands on your waist and your hands were flat against his muscular chest.  His lips were still hovering yours and he let out an annoyed sigh as he continued rubbing his thumb softly over your hip.  

Reluctantly, he pulled away and plastered on a smile that you knew was a bit forced.

“Hey, yeah––I’m Shawn,” He introduced himself as he still kept an arm thrown over your shoulder, “And what are your names?”

The three teenage girls all looked at each other silently screaming about how they couldn’t believe they had run into Shawn Mendes in their tiny beach town.  You always enjoyed being present when fans met Shawn.  You loved how they looked at him like he hung the moon in the sky, but you were pretty sure you looked at him the same way too.

Shawn conversed with the fans for a few minutes, asking their recommendations for places to go in town, where their favorite mini golf was, and telling them all what he had done the past few days in town.  Of course they brought up the dreaded topic of tour and you felt Shawn tense up as he sputtered out his media trained response; it’s my favorite part of the job, I can’t wait to get back out and see everyone again.  While that statement was true, you knew that he was more apprehensive about this tour and what leaving you behind meant.  

You took their pictures individually with Shawn and then a group picture of the four of them.  One of them asked for a picture with you, which you politely declined. 

“It was really nice meeting you girls,” Shawn flashed his signature smile, “But could you hold off on posting those for a few days? I’m really trying to stay low key and relax before tour.”

They all nodded their head vigorously––Of course, Shawn–––We wouldn’t want to invade your privacy, Shawn––We’re just so thankful you took time to talk to us, Shawn––We totally get that you want to spend time with Y/n, Shawn.

Their last statement made you smile.

The girls walked off holding onto each other’s wrist whispering––Did that really just happen?! Shawn Mendes?! Here?!––and you grinned up at Shawn who was already beaming down at you.

“You just made their day.”

“Ah,” Shawn tsked, “You just made my day.”

You rolled your eyes and shrugged his arm off your shoulder and began to walk away in embarrassment.  Of course you were going to talk about what had slipped through your lips just moments ago, you wanted to talk about it, but you didn’t want any teasing from Shawn. 

“Hey,” Shawn whined as he managed to grab your hand before you were too far away.  He pulled you back into him and resumed the position you found yourselves in before the polite fans not-so-politely interrupted your moment.

His hands felt soothing on your roasting hot skin, “I love you.”

His nose brushed yours softly as you let your eyes flutter close and let out a content sigh, “I love you, too.”  

And just like that, you felt as if everything aligned perfectly in the world.  Everything in your world felt complete.  The sun shinned with a new meaning, the salt water air smelled sweeter, and the thumping of your heart beat with a new purpose.

You loved Shawn Mendes.

His lips touched yours lightly, no more than they did just before the girls interrupted, admittedly, you expected more of a kiss for saying I love you for the first time to each other.  

“Remember; you told me you loved me five seconds ago,” Shawn rushed out in a whisper.

You opened your eyes, “Wha––“ but before you could register anything, you felt Shawn grab your waist as he hoisted you over his shoulder.  You felt his shoulder collide with your stomach and your vision of his face was replaced with his swim trunks.  You weren’t that upset about that part.

But as soon as stereotypical thoughts of your partner’s butt came into mind, you felt the cold ocean water hit the back of your calves.  You managed to lean up slightly and hook your legs around Shawn’s torso.  His musical laugh rang through your ears once more as he adjusted his hands to grip the bottom of your thighs that clung to him for dear life.

You wrapped your arms tightly around him as you nuzzled your face into his neck and shrieked, “Shawn!  Don’t you––“ 

Before you could finish your sentence, Shawn let both of you be consumed by the salty ocean water.  The temperature of the water didn’t feel remotely as bad as it had before now that your whole body had been in the water, but it was still not a pleasant surprise.

Once Shawn lifted both of you up for air, you smacked his shoulder, “Why did you do that?!”

Shawn shrugged, “I don’t know,” he offered you a guilty smile, “But you love me, so it’s alright.”

You opened your mouth, but couldn’t find anything to rebuttal that statement.  You loved the way his eyes glistened under the sun.  You loved the way his wet hair stuck to the sides of his face.  You loved the way he listened to the nonessential details of your life.  You loved the way Shawn put his best work forth in music, family, life, and with you.

So, yeah, you couldn’t be mad at him.  You weren’t mad at him.  

You loved him quite a lot.