#she also sensed how i’d wished TERRIBLE harm on people in the past and straight up CHALLENGED me like

[mxargo]

some days

spencer reid

summary: spencer takes his time with a girl that he thinks may be it for him.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of past deaths, spence being in prison, age gap of ten years. honestly lmk if I forgot anything.

word count: 2475

most of this is from spencer's pov

○○○○

some days are better than others, some make it and some don't. that's just how life is now. people get hurt, good people.

bad things happen to good people. good people who decide to live their own lives fighting other peoples wars just so they don't get hurt.

they're total strangers so why do it? why do others let themselves feel great pain just to save someone they don't know?

if we started questioning the good and their good intentions, there wouldn't be any left. that's why we don't do it.

when new cases come around, we push the why in the back of our minds and focus on the how. how are we going to save these people in time? and what if we don't? how many bad endings can occur during these cases before we start questioning our own sanity?

that's where spencer was.

questioning his sanity.

after prison, everything was different. he wouldn't want to admit that because it was the truth. a truth he wasn't yet ready to face, especially not by himself.

he saw the world differently, things he used to be able to do before just faded away in a locked compartment he built for himself in the back of his mind.

the part of him he'd never want to open. why do we do this? what happens if someone takes away the important. the reason he'd believe kept him steady.

his mother.

she wasn't well. he knew that to be true, didn't mean he liked to admit that.

he would defend her world without a thought of his own, but that tasks he kept only for himself is what started to strip him of what he once was.

thirteen years ago, the once smaller man who was so innocent. the man who just joined the bau thinking that this, this is my way out.

his way out of his mothers world. he loved her no doubt, no one needed proof for that but he wanted his own.

that's what he that he was doing when he met maeve. only knowing her for his own redemption, his migraines.

he wanted her. he loved her but he couldn't admit it. he didn't want to. if he told her he loved her everything he once built for himself would be gone.

she was being hunted and he couldn't handle any more loss he was sure to happen, and when she did die, It was like a part of his soul broke apart and fell deep inside his locked box.

after gideon died, he thought he'd almost lost it. in a way, he was like a father to him after his own abandoned him.

in some ways more than most, some days are better than others, some make it and some don't.

after he got realised for prison early, he went straight back to work. that's just the kind of man spencer reid was. he wanted to continue to help others even though he clearly needed the same for himself.

so when emily decided to send him home, he was alone again, and he wasn't used to living in something bigger than a 6x6 cell.

but it didn't feel very much like a home anymore. he knows what it used to feel like, a warm place away from the harmful rays of the terrible people outside his green walls.

he couldn't stay here, at least not right now. so when he left his apartment walking around dc, he started to realize what he was losing. his sense of happiness, and he'd do anything to get it back.

maybe if he did his house would start to feel like a home again.

♡♡♡♡

sitting in a small cafe sipping on the same coffee he's had for the last hour he started resembling the coffee to himself, he loved coffee. it was one of his favorite things in the world, aside from books.

but as now, he couldn't finish it. on any other days he'd at least be on his fifth cup by now having read already a few of his books.

but he didn't have any with him now. just him and his now half empty cold cup of back coffee. since when did he stop putting sugar in his coffee? was it before or after prison? what changed?

when did the sweet and softness in his like go away?

it was all his could think about now, which was a good thing come in handy, since thinking about what was really bothering could have ended up with him causing a scene in the same cafe he's been going to for the last two years.

it was a bit far out from his apartment but there was a girl here. a girl he like to watch, not in the senseless creepy way but he liked to watch her.

he liked the way you laughed, the way you smiled as you passed along coffee to other people. he loved the way you'd hum soft melodies to yourself as youd clean coffee stains of the counters. he loved the way youd listen to him on his rambles and ask him questions as you made his coffee. and the first time he met you, he knew he couldn't walk away forever, but it was all by accident.

walking into a cafe, he was in a hurry. it wasn't the same one he'd been going to that was across the street from where he lived but it was close now to where he was and he needed energy.

as he waited in the small line inside the small building, he realized there was only one person working there.

a girl.

she smiled at the elderly woman who was complementing on the younger womans earrings.

"those are lovely, I would've loved to wear those and walk around like you when I was as young as you. so beautiful"

and after that she couldn't stop smiling, but by that time it was my turn and she was attempting to revive my attention after I'd zone out.

"oh I'm sorry"

"don't be, it's alright. what can I get for you?"

her voice was so sweet sounding, intoxicating, in the good way. she sounded almost angelic. the kind penelope liked to remind us are the best of this world, and now that I've heard it for myself, I couldn't wait to see her and thank her for it.

but as I waiting on the other side of the counter as she made my cup, I didn't like the silence. I wanted to hear her again and the only thing I could think of was the same thing I always do, rambling.

coffee facts, of course.

"did you know that coffee is originally from Yemen?"

she looked up a me and when her eyes met mind, my heart felt like it was going to crawl out of my chest and land in her hands.

"I didn't"

"yeah, coffee is consumed in such great quantities, it is the world's 2nd largest traded commodity, surpassed only by crude oil. It is our most beloved beverage after water. It's worth well over $100 billion worldwide"

"that's interesting, I don't know much about it I've only been working here for a couple months"

"why are you working here?"

"just extra cash, figured I could use it if I want to graduate college"

college. that word kind of hit me like a truck.

she must be what then, twenty-two? I felt almost weird trying to get her attention more.

"I just turned twenty-three a few weeks ago and having to work five years instead of four has been hard"

I didn't know what to say by then. ten years. ten. that's the distance between us and it felt dreadful.

he never did it. he never asked her out or poked around to see if she was every seeing someone.

he wasn't hers and a part of himself hated that. but what would his friends say if they knew he was with someone so much younger than him.

they wouldn't be very supportive. he didn't need that from his family, but this one girl. shes the only one that's been able to get under his skin since maeve. the only girl hes been able to admit that he had feelings for, and strong ones because if they weren't. he wouldn't be going out of his way to walk four blocks away from his apartment everyday to see this one girl. if his feelings weren't real he wouldn't spend his time sitting in the cafe from the time it opened till it closed on the days that he could.

he just liked seeing her. and they were friends, he didn't think they were. they didn't talk as much as he wished but when she told him that he was her best costumer he figured everyone else had heard the same. but when she told him that she'd probably quit if she didn't see him everyday, he couldn't believe that she had cared for him that much.

"refill?"

hm?

"what? oh hey y/n"

"hey"

she smiled at me and looked around the table sending me back a confused look.

"no books?"

"oh um no. I forgot to bring some"

"you forgot?, I thought your brain was all mighty, never forgetful. I remember when you told me that I also should tell you I remember all the little gifts youd leave me"

"wha-"

"what? you didn't think I'd know it was you? I've known since I found a copy of gaspty on my car. youre the only one I told I'd accidentally ruined my old one"

"yeah.."

"are you doing alright spence? you've been here only an hour and no books and only one cup of coffee which I'm sure is cold by now"

by now she sat across from me pleading those very same eyes I'd fallen for two years ago at me.

"just in a bit of a mess"

"I know that your job is super hectic but I haven't seen you in three months"

how could I tell her? would she look at me differently? would she leave me alone?

"just work stuff"

"oh. well whatever it is, I'm sorry and I'm here for you. you know that right?"

"of course"

she smiled at me grabbing the coffee pot and ruffling my hair as she walked away.

being in prison reminding me of how much I loved her. how much I'd miss the way she'd sit with me after hours reading books with me and listening to my ramblings. it took me a bit to admit that I love her, but when I did I'd made a promise to myself I wouldn't let her go, but I wouldn't let her get hurt either.

by the time the cafe started to empty and the clock hit 9pm I'd notice her walk up to me handing me a book.

"I figured you could use it."

"thanks"

when she sat by me she didn't too close, giving me space but not too far where I couldn't feel her next to me.

"what's going on with you spence? I'm really worried about you"

"it's just work"

"you serious?"

"yes"

"then why don't I believe you?"

"I just-

"you can trust me. I care about you spencer. you disappeared for months and I just- I was worried something bad happened to you. at one point I thought you mightve-

died? I couldn't do that to her.

"no. no, I'm okay. sorta I guess. about a week ago I was realised from prison, I was framed for uh- murder"

that was the first time she bad been made speechless. she didn't say anything. she didn't look angry, or upset. just sad.

"I'm really sorry. why didn't- god I should've-

"should've what? there wasn't anything you could've done"

"I could have been there for you. I just- I feel like I should've been there thats all. your not alone, are you?"

sitting back, resting my head against the back of the booth meeting her eyes, I realised if I'd told her how I felt, i couldn't have anything else to lose.

"I have you"

she looked in my eyes for what I'm guessing is the answer to her confusion.

"what?"

"I have you. you're here. you always have been, and I'm grateful for it. I really am. i- I didn't know how to tell you before but I care for you. in ways I probably shouldn't. I don't know of this would work or not but if there is even a 1% chance there would I'm willing to take it. I love you y/n, I always have. since I met you. y'know I didn't normally go to this cafe. I live four blocks away from here. I came here on convenience and after I met you i couldn't stay away."

"I'm glad you didn't"

grabbing her hand, she didn't pull away.

"me too"

she pulled herself closer to me letting her head rest on my chest.

"you're such a good person. I hope you believe that. some days are better than others, some make it and some don't. i really want you to make it, and if youd let me, I'd really like to be here and help you with it, because I love you too and I like seeing you happy. I'm sorry for what happened to you, I know it wasn't your fault. I hope you understand that."

"I do now, thank you hon"

I could feel her smile again the thickness of my coat, I guess she just had that ability. and when she leaned up to kiss my cheek, I had pulled away.

"oh, I'm sor-

and when I kissed her. I stopped feeling guilty about how other people might feel about us. I stopped worrying about the fact that maybe one day, this might all blow over, but if it did, at least I'd known I'd done something about my feelings instead of wallowing in regret of what could've been.

derek once said that penelope was his god given solace, and the only thing I ever wanted was to find mine.

to be honest I believe I did.

I have her now, and hopefully it doesn't ever end. another reason to keep me steady other than my mother, and being hopeful for the both of us in whatever this will be wouldn't hurt.

she makes me feel things, things I've never felt before. I used to hate it, I used to want to make her take it away but now, it's all I cant think about and I don't believe i could ever let it go.

spencer reid finally found the one piece of his soul and he let y/n gracefully put it back into place.

[glassessence]

PGR - OC

I got so inspired by everyone’s creativity that I created my own OC ^^” Even though she’s a member of the Purifying Force, I hope she’ll still be received warmly. Special thanks to @punishing-gray-raven-ocs​ for their detailed posts about character creation that really made me think about Lydias! 

Warning: I may have gone a bit overboard with the detail. It’s a long read! Also, I threw in a not-so-subtle reference to the most traumatic Memory Rescue mission lmao. So proceed with caution, I guess HAHA

Name                          Lydias: Umbral

Type                            Offensive Support-type Construct

Service time              1 year

Psychological age    24

Activation date         15 March

Height                         167 cm

Weight                        59 kg

Vital fluid type          O

Faction                        Purifying Force

Rank                            A

Weapon                      Chakrams (preferred) /  Gun

Damage type             70% Dark, 30% Physical

Lydias is a support-type Construct modelled after Watanabe’s Astral frame. She has extreme stealth capabilities and excels at tracking, making her ideal for the execution of rogue and infected Constructs.

Her missions mostly involve infiltration and spying, although she’s also been deployed on assassination missions. Those orders come straight from Nikola and their records are kept top-secret, inaccessible even to Bianca.

Her frame is designed for long-range sniping and comes equipped with visual accuracy enhancements and superb calculative powers. However, Lydias prefers to engage her targets in close combat. Killing Constructs from afar feels cruel and cold, like they really are meaningless machines instead of former comrades.

She truly believes in the good of the Purifying Force, but hates the things she has to do. She doesn’t feel like she belongs, but also can’t see a future for herself anywhere else.

Her fighting style is very graceful, featuring a lot of spins and flips that are reminiscent of a dance. Her signature move is called “Blade Dance.”

B A C K G R O U N D 

Lydias was born to a wealthy family in Babylonia. Her mother joined the war effort as a Commandant shortly after she was born and is known as the leader of the elite task force, Cybele. Since then, Lydias has always wanted to follow in her mother’s famous footsteps.

Originally a Commandant of the Black Wolves, a certain incident caused her to give up the position and apply for reconstruction. Despite having low compatibility for Tantalum-193, her application was approved after negotiations with Nikola. Following her surgery, she was transferred to the Purifying Force.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Shows affection through actions rather than words. Bakes cakes for the humans of Babylonia in her free time

Philosophical, often ponders on the nature of humans and of the war

Likes to make dirty jokes and tease others

Obedient to a fault because she doesn’t trust her own judgement

Comes across as cold, but is just awkward with introductions

Doesn't think very highly of herself. Ignores it when other Constructs call her "traitorous hunting dog" but secretly thinks they're right

Loves the sea and the fathomless depths yet to be explored. Likes to go swimming at every opportunity

Prefers to work alone, but overprotective of her comrades when in a team. Frequently throws herself in harm’s way to shield her teammates. Knows it’s not good, but is too haunted by her past

Trusts easily, but is very guarded with her heart

Knows how to dance a lot of old-school styles like ballroom and ballet, but is too shy to ask anyone to practice with her

S E C R E T S

Has memorised a lot of poetry from before the Punishing Virus outbreak

Gets intensely lonely and jealous when seeing close squad camaraderie like Gray Raven’s

Avoids Kamui because he reminds her of someone she’s lost

Has spied on Watanabe extensively under Babylonian orders and is deeply fascinated by him

Doesn’t trust Nikola, but is unable to disobey his commands

Secretly harbours doubts about Babylonia’s mission to reclaim Earth

Has obtained special permission to download the data of the Black Wolves and often reads the records to keep them alive in her heart

V O I C E   L I N E S

“Team leader? No, I refuse. You’re making a grave mistake.”

“I’m not suited for protecting people.”

“My opinion on the Forsaken? They’re hardworking, loyal, and--Nevermind. We seem to share a similar goal.”

“The Black Wolves? Where did you hear of that name?! Don’t mention it again!”

“I baked a cake today. Would you like some?”

“Yes, I can dance. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell the others…”

“I can teach you to dance. Privately, if you’d like. Haha, just kidding.”

“Becoming a Construct was a decision I made rashly. I don’t necessarily regret it, but…”

“Are we really doing the right thing? This endless war… All these years… What have we really achieved?”

INTERLUDE

D U S K F A L L

A voice cracked over the intercom. “...dant…Com...ant...Commandant, do you hear me?!”

Lydias blinked. The urgency in his voice caught her off guard. Ferdinand kept his cool even in the most dire of situations. Something was very wrong. “Tell me, Ferdie.” Static. “Ferds? Come through!” Nothing. Communications had been poor ever since they’d entered this area, but they’d managed until now. For it to suddenly fail like that… it couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Shit,” she said, turning to the other two Constructs with her. “On guard, guys. Something’s coming and comms are down.”

Ilya grimaced. “Sure it’s not one of Ferdinand’s pranks again?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Flora offered, even as she tightened her grip on her lance. “Pesky little bastard would find it hilarious.” Lydias said nothing. She was too tense. There was a taste in the air, a metallic tang that churned in her belly. Sweat dripped into her eye. Suddenly, a hand slapped her on the back. “Relax, Commandant,” Ilya chuckled. “We’ll protect you like always. No need to be so scared all the time.”

Something in her loosened, just a bit. “Shouldn’t I be the one protecting you?” she retorted, trying to project confidence. “You guys with your fragile little M.I.N.Ds?” Flora laughed, a deep-belly rumble that Lydias loved. The knot in her stomach unravelled some more. “You do that, Commandant,” Flora said. “We’ll just twirl our pointy sticks at the bad guys.”

Lydias was just about to say something snarky when she caught movement in the corner of her eye. She swirled, gun at the ready. There was still no word from Ferdinand. “I’m sensing a large Corrupted force in our perimeter,” Ilya reported. His voice had lost its casual lilt. “They’ve got us surrounded.”

Lydias cursed. “How’s that Memory retrieval coming along?”

“Slowly,” Ilya replied unhappily. Flora clicked her tongue. The Corrupted were visible now. They weren’t like anything Lydias had seen before. They carried advanced weapons - chainsaws and spears and bows - and seemed to be organised into phalanxes. Dread coiled in her belly. “We’ve been ambushed,” she breathed in horror. “Ferdinand tried to warn us. They must have blocked off comms.”

“Well, shit,” Flora grunted. The Corrupted army was within gunshot range now. “When the fuck did they get so smart?”

“Someone must be leading them,” Ilya said. “How did the information leak?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lydias said. “We need to retreat. Now.” A bullet flew by her head, burning the shell of her ear as it passed. Her heart hammered. “Back off,” Flora growled. She twirled her spear, eyes flashing as she impaled the Corrupted soldier. Beside her, Ilya stepped forward, fast as a flash, and stabbed one through the neck. Lydias fired off three shots, watching in grim satisfaction as two buried themselves in the heads of two infected Constructs.

The scene descended into chaos just as Ferdinand’s broken voice sounded in her ear. “...n...way! Comm...ant!”

-----------

Flora stumbled back. She was breathing heavily. Vital fluid leaked steadily from several places, staining her coat a rich purple. Ilya was behind her, grimacing. His left arm was gone, torn away at the shoulder. Sparks flew from the exposed wires within. Beside them, Lydias swayed unsteadily. She clutched at her stomach. Red blood seeped through her fingers. All their attempts to break through had failed. Things were looking more hopeless by the minute. 

“Commandant,” Ilya said, voice strained. “Turn off my pain receptors.” Flora nodded. “Same here.” Lydias coughed wetly. Her vision was growing dim. “It’s dangerous,” she admitted, wishing she could shut off her own terrible pain. “But there’s no other choice.” She authorised the command. Her team’s face relaxed immediately. She met their determined gazes and nodded. “We’re all gonna go home. Together.”

Ilya smiled. Flora grinned. But there was a sadness in their faces Lydias didn’t want to acknowledge. Her connection with Ferdinand was still blocked. He could be dead for all she knew. She turned away from the thought. Just survive, Lydias. And take the Wolves home.

Together, the Black Wolves rose. Ilya with his dagger and Flora with her spear. Unseen by Lydias, they nodded to each other. An agreement, a pact. A promise. Renewed, they threw themselves at the Corrupted like cornered animals. Slowly, inch by painful inch, an exit was being forced open. Corrupted weapons dug into their bodies, but they pushed on. 

Lydias fought beside them, swinging her chakrams haphazardly. Her gun had run out of ammo long ago. She stumbled, half-blind, and almost skewered herself on the end of a Corrupted sword. She could hardly think straight; blood loss was making her weak. Suddenly, a voice crackled in her mind. “Commandant!” Ferdinand’s voice tumbled through her hazy thoughts. “The signal jammer is gone. What’s your status?!”

Her heart soared, bringing with it a brief burst of clarity. “Ferdie! It’s an ambush. We need support!”

“I’ve already informed Babylonia,” he said urgently. “Reinforcement is on the way. I’m coming to you, Commandant. Just hold on!” His signal blinked to life, moving rapidly towards their location. Lydias smiled grimly. Ferdinand was on his way. Support was coming. Surely, they would be okay. They would make it out of this. She just had to hold on for a little longer. 

Flora’s signal pulsed unsteadily and Ilya’s grew fainter with every breath. Lydias clung with desperation to the unstable M.I.N.Ds of her Wolves. I will protect you.

-----------

“Coming through!” A ray of energy tore through the Corrupted wave. Lydias spied Ferdinand’s face through the sea of blades. She almost wept with relief. “Retreat,” she said hoarsely, struggling to stay conscious. “Black Wolves, retreat!”

On cue, Ilya and Flora rushed through the tunnel, half-carrying Lydias with them. Between one ferocious breath and the next, they’d broken through the Corrupted circle. She tumbled bonelessly into Ferdinand’s open arms. He took a brief moment to survey her and paled. “The meeting point isn’t far,” he said. “Support will be there.” He picked up Lydias and turned to run, but Ilya and Flora didn’t follow. 

“Sorry, but this is the end of the road for me,” Flora said wryly. “Didn’t think it’d end like this.” She spat out a wad of purple fluid. “At least these fuckers will go down with me.”

“And you get the privilege of dying by my side,” Ilya said primly, readjusting his grip on his dagger. Flora laughed, an edge of sadness in her voice. “Yeah, old man, I guess I do.”

Lydias stirred in Ferdinand’s arms. “No,” she said, forcing herself to meet their gazes. “I won’t allow it.” 

“Unfortunately, Commandant,” Ilya said. “This time it’s not up to you.” He raised his remaining hand in a salute. “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

“Go on,” Flora growled. “We’ll make sure nobody pursues you.”

Ferdinand pursed his lips, but nodded tightly. Lydias fought in his grip. She hardly even felt the pain. “No!” she screamed, or tried to. It was hard to tell where her voice was. “Don’t! I forbid it! That’s an order!” He started running. She watched helplessly as the distance grew. “Stop! Go back, we have to help them! Stop!”

In the fading light, Ilya fell and was immediately consumed by a horde of Corrupted hands. His signal weakened then blinked out. A scream tore itself from her throat. She thrashed in Ferdinand’s grip and felt his hold on her loosen. White-hot pain shot through her body as she tumbled to the ground. Mad with grief, she crawled forward desperately, mind blank except for the desire to be with her Wolves. 

Strong arms lifted her up. Ferdinand’s lively voice was dull. “Please don’t do this, Lydias.” 

“Let go, Ferdie,” she said angrily. “We have to--” Flora’s signal flickered out. Lydias felt her spirit break. “No,” she cried. “Please, no.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Words abandoned her. The world seemed to shrink, compacting to a single thought: she had failed. 

-----------

She woke to white light. Something beeped steadily beside her. Tubes ran from her body to several machines like the tentacles of some deep sea creature. Her entire body hurt. Immediately, she reached for the Black Wolves, but their signals were absent, leaving her mind uncomfortably empty. Panic settled like ice in her veins. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. 

Surely, they had recalled their consciousnesses. Surely, she’d simply woken up early. And where was Ferdie? Gasping, Lydias stood, dragging her broken body to the wall of windows. She brought a fist to the cool glass. Nikola watched her from the other side. “Where are they,” she croaked. “What happened?”

He shook his head sympathetically. “They didn’t recall their consciousness. According to our records, Ilya and Flora died protecting you from pursuit. Ferdinand was infected.” His eyes were grave. “He guarded you until reinforcements arrived.”

She didn’t know if she could bear the answer, but she asked anyway. “And then?”

Nikola studied her for a long moment before giving in. “And then the Punishing Virus took over his M.I.N.D. He escaped because we prioritised your survival.” A desperate hope sparked to life within her. “So he’s still alive? Then there’s still a chance! Please, let me find him!”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.” 

“Please,” she begged. “Please.”

He turned away from her. “The Purifying Force has already been sent after him. I’m sorry, Lydias.”

-----------

Three weeks later

“Are you sure?” Nikola asked, studying her with intensity. “Your chances of success are only 47%.”

Lydias stared at him blankly. “I’m sure.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow it. Commandants are valuable to Babylonia. Perhaps even more than Constructs. Few possess the will and compatibility to stabilize M.I.N.Ds. Someone as experienced as you is not expendable.”

“Then I quit being a Commandant. I refuse to lead another squad.” She looked away. “I couldn’t protect any of them. Not a single one.” Her voice broke. “I’m not… I don’t think I can--I just can’t.”

Nikola considered her with some pity. “What do you want then, Lydias?”

“You know what I want. I’m not afraid of dying.”

“I know you’re not afraid, but it seems to me like you seek it.”

She said nothing. Nikola sighed. “I’d rather not lose you completely. You have experience and ability. The Black Wolves were specifically chosen for that mission for your competence. Aife will increase our combat power significantly against the Corrupted.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s unfortunate, but these things happen at war.”

“Say whatever you want,” Lydias said stubbornly. “But this is my final decision.”

“Fine,” Nikola said. “Your attempt at redemption is admirable. I’ll grant your request, but if you survive, you’ll work directly under me. Is that acceptable?”

“Perfectly.”

INTERLUDE HIDDEN CHAPTER

F A D I N G   L I G H T

Flora: Fairfrost - Voice Log 

*sounds of fighting* I hope this reaches you, Commandant. I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer and… *grunting* I just wanna say goodbye. The old man’s already gone. I felt his signal die out a while ago. He went down taking a blade for me, can you believe it? Even though I’m the Attacker Construct. *panting* You know what his last words to me were? “It hurts.” As if our pain receptors weren’t turned off. I know what he means though. *blades clashing* After all, we all wanna go back home with you. But life’s a bit unfair, eh? For once, I don’t mind. Protecting your back… it almost makes me feel like a hero. That ain’t something you experience every day, y’know? *metal tearing* I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you. For being someone worthy of love. *crash, wet coughing* It’s been my honour and privilege to have been one of your Wolves, Commandant. You’ll remember me, won’t you?

-----------

Ferdinand: Aegis - Voice Log 

Lydias… This will probably be my last communication with you. I never would have thought this would be how it ends, but… Well, I’m just glad that I get to spend my final moments with you. I can feel my M.I.N.D. slipping, but Babylonia will be here any second now. They’ll take care of you, the way I wish I could. *sigh* Ah, there are so many things I want to say. I have nothing to lose anymore, so I hope you’re ready to listen. *deep breath* I love you. The way you laugh at my jokes and tease me. The way you can talk about anything. Your smile, your lips. I love the way you kiss me. And of course, I love our late night activities… Such as you trying to teach me to dance. *short laughter* Were you expecting me to say something else, Commandant? You--*grunt, glitching* Looks like my time is running out. I should go, but promise me one thing, Lydias. Promise me you’ll keep your heart open, so that someone else can love you as you deserve. I--You--*glitches*

DATA CORRUPTED.

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

Amusement Park

Part 11 of the Guardian fanfic (and we’re almost to the end)! If you would like to read this in chronological order and don’t feel like tag surfing, this is also available on AO3.

Not everything my humans do ends in tragedy. Occasionally, they have something resembling fun.

Digging in the Archives led them to one of those traveling amusement parks that sometimes took over parking lots for a week. I'd seen it at a distance but frankly, the screaming and the smell of cotton candy hadn’t instilled much confidence.

You'll hate it, the house informed me. It had given me a pendant through which it talked, sometimes. I was still getting used to the mansion’s constant presence.

For once, the entity was uncharacteristically wrong. I didn't totally hate the amusement park.  The place was loud and there were far too many people, plus it all smelled vaguely of vomit. But my humans had a good time, and that somehow made up for the rest of it.

Arada and Overse held hands and bought themselves giant hot dogs. Baradwahj kept stopping to doodle in her sketchbook. Even Gurathin, who as far as I knew didn't like anything that entailed having fun, was having a good time as he argued air resistance and thermodynamics with Volsecu.

I was walking alongside Dr. Mensah, on two legs at that.

"Have you ever been on a Ferris wheel?" she asked.

I shook my head. If wolves had been intended to leave the ground, we'd have wings. And seeing as how we didn't, I didn't want to chance it. It must've shown on my face because Mensah laughed and touched my shoulder.

"You look like I suggested an execution."

"Yeah, maybe."

"It's perfectly safe."

"It doesn't look safe." How was I supposed to protect my clients if they were going to get on something that rickety?

The house offered unhelpful information, starting with when Ferris wheels were invented and the statistics of accidents and injuries.

Mensah shook her head, clearly amused at the whole thing, and stopped in front of a food vendor. Money exchanged hands, and suddenly she had this puffy ball of sugar on a stick. It was a hideous shade of pink.

"Want to try a bite?" she asked.

"Hell no!"

She snorted. "You could use more meat on your bones, you know."

"That... thing isn't food."

The rest of the group was up ahead, stopped in front of a small building that read "Fun House of Mirrors." These words didn't look right together, but fuck it, I don't understand humans and I couldn't care less what they considered fun.

"Over here!" Arada yelled, waving her hands.

Mensah waved back and started walking again. Normally, I do at most a half-assed version of my job. A decade in, I've come to the conclusion that humans are somehow drawn to danger, and frankly, stopping them is a waste of breath. But these humans... I didn't want anything to happen to them, so I'd been paying attention.

So, when a clown walked between me and them, I growled at the weirdly-dressed human. Except, it didn't smell human at all. It smelled... like me, like another were-creature. I didn't see a collar, so it wasn't a guardian. Just a free were-creature, one that hadn’t been caught by the department.

We’re supposed to report unregistered users of dark magic to the department. But, my binding almost never picked up when such a creature was around—it certainly wasn’t reacting now—and I had no plans of telling the department a damn thing.

The clown planted itself in front of me. "Oh wow," it—correction, she—said, suddenly excited. "Oh my god, you're like the only other shapeshifter I've met. Shit! This is awesome. Oh, god, can I...uh, take a picture?"

The team noticed my absence and came over, and then, there was nowhere to run. I stood around awkwardly while they chatted with the other were-creature, whose name was Tasha and who turned into a bear but had started as a human. And then they exchanged phone numbers. And I was just standing there, trying not to look as uncomfortable as I felt.

"You OK?" Tasha wanted to know all of a sudden.

"Fine."

"You look about a mile down the road from fine," she pointed out. "I can practically see you trying to crawl out of your skin."

"So?"

"So, you need to relax a little," she told me, oblivious.

Mensah carefully explained that I was currently working. Tasha patted my shoulder, and I almost jumped backward. It took effort to stay still and not bite the were-bear's hand off.

"Stop that," I growled.

Tasha handed me a balloon, one of the many she was holding and giving out to kids. I just stood there, string in hand, and tried to puzzle out what the fuck I was supposed to do with it. You can't really kill anyone with a balloon, and you can't eat it.

Ratthi said, "It's very purple."

I looked up at the floating ball. "What do you do with it?"

"Hold it for a while and then let it go and watch it fly away."

"What for?"

Humans often engage in rituals that bring them joy. It doesn’t always have meaning, the entity told me like I didn’t know. I wished I could glare but there was no one to glare at.

"Fun." Tasha was in my face. "The whole purpose of this place is to have some fun. It makes living a little easier, a little lighter."

I looked at Dr. Mensah like I needed rescuing all of a sudden.

"Come on," she said quietly. "Let's go see if we can find you something that's actual food." She smiled at the were-bear. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Tasha. Feel free to reach out to us anytime."

After lunch, we entered the funhouse.

I know humans are supposed to be delighted in things that bend the mind, but the house of mirrors gave me the creeps. I felt sufficiently unnerved to switch back into my wolf form. On the off chance that we got attacked three steps past the front door, I was ready.

I walked ahead of the rest of the investigative team, using my superior senses to seek out our target. But, frankly, I doubted the sanity of any creature that would make its home in this horrible place.

I stopped in front of a set of mirrors that distorted human proportions. Standing on four feet and only half as tall as the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I could still mostly identify what I was looking at. Trust humans to enjoy something as convoluted and mind-bending as this place.

And then a shadow walked straight out of the mirror and past me toward the investigators. It was a silhouette of a person, outlined in gray and green sparks of light. It sang as it moved, each word visible in the fog-shrouded room.

The words were literally spilling out of its mouth like confetti and falling on the ground.

I decided that this monster had bigger problems than a group of curious investigators to deal with.

"Indeed," said the strange spirit and the word plopped on the ground like a meatball. "This is what you might call a curse."

I yipped at it softly. "What kind of curse?"

It, of course, had no idea what I was saying. The mansion helped translate, somehow able to communicate with the creature just because of the pendant's proximity to the monster.

"The kind born of ill intentions," the spirit answered just as the humans caught up.

I placed myself squarely between them and the spirit, moving so that, if it tried anything, it would have to go through me.

Mensah put a hand on my back, between my shoulder blades, as a heads-up that she was standing beside me. I shivered at the unsolicited touch. Baradwahj was taking notes, and in the brief silence I could easily make out the sound of her pencil scraping against paper.

"I wondered why so many beings of light were suddenly in my domain," the creature said, and the words floated away, carried by an unseen breeze. "But now, I understand. The humans beyond these walls never cease to surprise me."

Overse, whose magic also had a connection to words and writing, stepped forward. "Who are you?"

"A difficult question, human." The cursed being rose above the floor on bare feet and twirled before us. "Once, perhaps I was human. But then I was cursed, for speaking the words that needed to be said. And the curse is renewed with each passing moon. For fifty years now, unceasing and unfailing."

"Can you tell us who cursed you?"

"I never knew her name. But she was... beautiful. Like the light of a new moon falling on a still, silent lake."

I heard whispers among the group. Finally, Overse said, "If we could find the one who cursed you, perhaps we could convince her to lift it."

"Perhaps."

The spirit flittered past me and between the humans. It passed through them untouched and didn't appear to cause them any harm. Sparks of green light landed in her wake.

I knew the humans wouldn't leave this alone, so I shapeshifted and became human. The spirit turned to face me now that there were eight people between us, haphazardly arranged and staring.

"So you're more than a wolf."

"And you're more than a prisoner," I countered.

"A curse is a curse." The creature shrugged.

"Not every curse is the same. Why the mirrors?"

"So that I might remember the importance of the human shape, the wonder of what it means to be born a human being." She spit the words out.

I had a sudden, inexplicable moment of clarity. "The head of the department did this, didn't she?"

"You're a smart one, little wolf."

No, not smart. Just good at remembering terrible things at inappropriate times. Mensah did this complicated thing where she got a little closer but didn't touch, like just existing would somehow prop me up. I don't know why. It's not like I cared what happened to this spirit or the uptight asshole of a human who chaired the department.

Overse and Arada grasped hands. Ratthi looked so very, utterly sad.

Mensah made a decision. I like how she thinks hard about her choices but once she's chosen, it's full steam ahead. I hate humans who waffle about things.

"We're leaving," she told the team. "There's nothing more we can do here. The Archives got it wrong this time. Guardian, we have some things we need to do tomorrow. So you have the day off."

[voxvulgi]

multiples of 6 - for whoever you think has the best answer including youuuu (you can skip those you don't like xD)

// alright so *cracks knuckles* *puts on accountant hat* *takes out calculator* in 100, the largest multiple of 6 is 96, which has 16 6′s in it. i have 18 muses, but 4 of them are exclusive, so i can stick to the 14 non-exclusive muses and have 2 questions to spare, which i can answer myself

Keep reading

6: do you keep plants? 

“I do. I live alone, so the flat feels dead sometimes. Plants help me feel like I don’t live alone. I do like isolation, but that’s only to a certain extent. Plants are living beings you have to take care of, and they’re a sight for sore eyes, too. I especially like them in the kitchen. When I wake up to make breakfast, the sun is at an angle that pours gold into my kitchen window, and the specific shade of green of their leaves is absolutely gorgeous. I also have a group of small pots to plant thyme and rosemary and such. I could just buy them fresh, but picking your spices yourself every now and again just...engulfs the senses.”

12: what's your favorite planet? 

“When Malik asked me this question and I told him Uranus, he laughed at me for ten minutes straight. At first, he laughed for a few seconds because he thought I was making a joke, but when I told him I was serious, he laughed for the rest of the ten. I really wish scientists just let Uranus be called Ouranos. Did they really not consider that sometime in the future, a girl would tell someone that her favourte planet was your-anus and get laughed at? Rude. But anyway, Uranus is my favourite planet...literally just because it’s pretty. Blue is my favourite colour. Also, it’s the only planet that spins on its side, which was what made me decide that it was more worthy of being my favourite planet than Neptune. Neptune just goes with the flow. Lame, right? Uranus is not like other planets. It’s different. It stays home and eats chicken nuggets instead of going to parties. Also, it was the only planet named after a Greek god instead of a Roman one, and when I found that out, I was like finally, and I just made it my favourite planet.”

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

“I live with my cousins, alright? They own a pub. So, basically, we live upstairs, and the pub is downstairs and open until late. My cousins don’t have a problem with this because they set their won work hours and wake and sleep as they please and all, but I have to attend work with the local herbalist sometimes because she trains me. So, one night, the pub was open well after the usual closing time because some man was getting married in a few days and wanted to celebrate with his friends. I’m not the kind of person to tell people how to live their lives and how late to go to bed, but I was irritated and went downstairs to ask my cousin when this would be over. You know, just so I could get a good idea of when I’ll finally be able to sleep. When I got there, the man to be married was flirting with the barmaid. I would have ignored it, but she looked terribly uncomfortable. I told him off first, and it didn’t work-- obviously. So I went back to my room and gathered some leftover poison ivy powder. I went back downstairs, flirted with him, and unbuckled his belt in front of all his friends. They ooh’ed and ahh’ed because they’re idiots, then I tugged on the back of his waistband and left him with poison ivy all over his arse. I waited until his face twisted and he started drunkenly panicking, then I left. That man didn’t know I’m related to the owners since my cousins are white and all, so there was no harm done to the pub’s reputation, but my cousins and the pub workers -- even the barmaid -- now keep asking me not to hide poison ivy in their pants whenever I look even mildly disapproving.”

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

“I’d trust Alan with every one of my secrets. Except if I do something that isn’t actually worrying but I think might worry him anyway. Because he’s a worrier. That’s not technically a secret.”

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

“Look, I think everyone has been truly scared. There’s always a moment in their life that really scares them, and just because it isn’t as scared as they can psychologically be doesn’t mean it wasn’t true scared. So yes, I have been truly scared. The most scared I’ve ever been was, obviously enough, when I got the phone call from my mother about Joseph.”

36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now?

“Branches. They’re upbeat but at the same time make me feel calm and relaxed, which is thankfully my mood in general.”

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

“My favourite coffee shop is a block down from my work. I rarely take work there, usually just buy a coffee and leave or stay for a while and lounge. It’s my favourite because they make the coffee taste how it smells. If coffee doesn’t taste the way it smells, you might as well be drinking mud water. They practically have walls instead of windows, and there’s this terrace on the second floor. It gives you a good view of the street. Looks best in the morning because there’s a park just a street away and people everywhere. The coffee shop itself -- the interior, I mean -- is just clean and tidy. Their seats are comfortable but don’t look like something a wannabe hippie would own. They like their plants in moderation. Their tables are glass, not metal or wood. They don’t have puns or cheesy quotes anywhere. I like that.”

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

“My biggest fear was that a dragon would kidnap my mom and hide her in a tower. I thought and still think that my mom is so pretty! So I figured that if a dragon was going to kidnap someone, it would be my mom. I don’t have that fear now, but I’m...well, I’m really afraid of Jace dying.”

54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

“Jenny and Dean last father’s day. Their dad’s already been dead for about a year at that point, but...hell, it’s their dad. I probably looked really sad, too, and he wasn’t even my biological dad.”

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

“I do like poetry. Not big on the older stuff, mostly because of the language barrier. The modern stuff is easier to understand. I actually prefer confessional poetry because it’s like looking into the dark corners of someone’s mind, and not in this romanticised way. Not for me, at least. This certain kind makes me feel seen because when someone shares their experiences from behind their own eyes, in their own shoes, they experience emotions and thoughts that are so raw and human that I feel less alone reading them. I haven’t read that much, to be honest, so I don’t have favourites. I’ve only read the more popular ones that have been coming out in the past decade, so I think picking a favourite is unfair because my pool is so small.”

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? 

“I don’t know. I’ve never worn a flower crown, but I suppose that if I were given one, I’d like for it to have a good amount of leaves along with the flowers. Green is my favourite colour. The flowers can be anything, but I think open ones look better. Maybe daisies-- they sound perfect. Yellows and pinks and reds would be welcome, too, as long as there’s a good amount of white daisies.”

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it?

“I would not say I forget easily, but I note everything down, just in case. Some things are too important to get wrong, while others just cause avoidable inconvenience. It helps me organise my time and prioritise, too, so I just opt for making notes.”

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

“Fanclub! They’re very cute. I only saw them in that movie called Despicable Me. Most of the time, Ivan and I aren’t allowed to use the TV, but it was on one of the days we were allowed, so we watched it. I liked it a lot. The minions are so full of energy and happy and stuff.”

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

“Ooooh, yes!! I’m gonna get a bunch of tattoos! They won’t be anything fancy, though. Just some stars and smiley faces here and there. They’ll all be in colour. Nothing black or white. There’s probably gonna be some small dinosaurs. And music notes. Oh, and rocket ships! I’ll just get a tattoo every time I think of something. They’ll be small. Like, and inch or something, so there’s plenty of room!”

90: talk about one of your favorite cities.

“Paris is my favourite city. The thing about it is...it loves you. That’s how I can describe it. It’s a very old city, okay? A lot of shit went down in it. There were wars and revolutions and all that. I admit that I don’t know much about the historical details because I sucked ass in history class, but I just feel like Paris was founded on fighting, and people fight for their rights and the things they love. So...I think that every building in Paris was made with love and built with a purpose. I don’t like New York because I feel like it just wants to eat you. Paris loves you. I’m very appreciative of that, and I’m appreciative of the buildings most of all. Especially the old ones are gorgeous. I try to incorporate as much of Paris into my architecture models as I could.”

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

“Not really quickly. If I just got on my computer and it tells me it needs to update, I wait until I’m done with my task before I update it. Otherwise, it’ll keep bothering me about it, so I just like to get it over with. Similar thing with my phone. I postpone the update until bedtime then let it update while I sleep. No need to let it disturb the flow of my day, you know? But I’m still gonna do it. I’m not a big procrastinator.”

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 2: Ch 5

Ch 4

Summary: After returning to Earth, an unnamed Space Explorer must face the consequences of going past Quadrant 5.

Attempting to write 10k words for part 2 by the end of the week.

Part 1:

Ch 1

Ch 2

Ch 3

Ch 4

Ch 5

____________________

“I had a bad feeling about him right from the moment our eyes met, but I was just so hurt. The siege happened because I showed him where my village was hiding. I tried saving them, but I wasn’t able to. I was too late. He found me once again. This time the remains of my village collapsed onto me. For years they used it against me. For years they reminded me. For years I’ve regretted it.” Again, Mikrovos grabs a pebble. This time it hops across the water. Each ripple is bigger than the last. It breaks our reflection in the process as well. Rather than joining the other ones at the bottom, it lands on the other bank in front of us. Once it does he hugs himself and lowers his ears. 

“I would’ve done the same if I was in your situation. I mean you were just a kid. Your dad did all those things to the both of you…” 

“We didn’t always live like that. My dad, he wasn’t always like that. There was this civil war that broke out when I was too young to remember. My dad was a soldier in it. After he got back, he became the man you now know of. He saw a lot of terrible things. He ate that grass to help him suppress those memories.”

“But that doesn’t make it right.”

“It’s not like what I did was right either. There’s no such thing as bad people. There are just people.” He looks straight into his reflection, which now has the moon’s reflection resting behind it. 

“Even your old commander?”

He gulps “Yeah, even him. He did some messed up things, but he did some good things too when he was alive.”

“Mikrovos?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this why you keep saying Earth is beautiful?”

“Everywhere throughout the universe, people kill people. In the process, planets are harmed. Many have caused the deaths of their homeworlds because of it. However, your people have managed to keep your planet thriving,” his hand brushes between the blades of grass beneath us. “It’s a shame we’re going to leave its atmosphere in a few hours.”

I’m about to say something, but I yawn. I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. I nearly fall into the stream, but he catches me before I can. I then muttered something to him. He just smirks. The last thing I see is him heading back into the crops with me in his arms. 

Even as I cover my eyes from the sun I squint. I stretch and let out another yawn. My eyes water because of it. “Hey. You’re finally awake,” Ashley excitedly remarked from in front of a new bonfire. She’s sitting next to a dead fish. It’s been stabbed right through its chest with a large stick. The dead animal leans above the fire. 

As I sit up and rub my eyes, “Where’s everyone?”

“They’re on top of the ship, repairing,” she hands me the newly cooked fish, “Here. You must be hungry.”

I blow at it until it’s cool. When it is, I bite into it. My teeth sinking into its skin causes it to make a crunching noise. Once my taste buds are hit with its savory flavor my mouth waters. “How is this so good,” I spoke between my chews. 

“You don’t remember much, but you’re the same as always,” she shakes her head teasingly, “But you’re going to choke if you talk and try to stuff it all down at the same time.”

“But it’s so good. How can I not?” Because my mouth is full as I talked, I accidentally spit out some of the fish’s freshly cooked meat onto her. 

She wipes it off. “Oh, how did I ever fall in love with you?”

I look at her, finished, with crumbs all over my mouth. She licks her thumb and wipes them away. “Yeah, how did we fall in love?”

“Well, we were young. I told you I could cook-”

“Wait a minute. Did I eat like this every day?” She nods. “Stupid government for erasing my memories of that. No wonder I risked my life to save yours.” 

She smiles as she rolls her eyes. “No, but really, we were young. Earth was being taken over.”

I see myself sitting and crying in the middle of a field just like this. My hands are covered in blood. They’re not mine. They’re from someone I should know. They’re cold. I felt alone. I felt trapped. Trapped from what I’m not so sure about. It could be from the spaceships passing overhead or from me being lost. As deep into my thoughts as I was, they vanished right when I heard a higher version of Ashley’s current voice, which makes sense seeing that a much younger version of her waved a hand across my face. At the time, she had long, blonde hair. 

“Hey? You okay?” I didn't answer her. She sets her hand flat in front of me, which causes me to flinch. “I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t worry. I’m a friend,” she continued. 

My hand shook as I reached out to it. I looked into her eyes. She smiles and I can feel my face heat up. Once our hands connect she helps me up. She chuckles and I chuckle too. We both don’t notice how red I’ve gotten, but it doesn’t matter. My heart fluttered hearing her laugh and I’m sure hers did too. However, this doesn’t last long. She notices the dried blood on my hand and then looks at me with worry in her eyes. “It’s not mine,” I assured her. 

She turns around. “It’s clear. It’s just another human.” A group of other kids comes pushing between the crops. 

He looked like the oldest. He’s the tallest and the only one out of the boys in the group to have facial hair. “Blood? Is she wounded?” Sure, he sounded cornered on the surface. However, his face said otherwise. So, he must’ve forced the words out. 

“No. It’s not hers.”

“Well, then, there’s nothing we can do. Now come on.” He nudges towards his left. 

“You want to just leave her here?”

“Ashley, if you hadn’t noticed it already the world as we knew it is gone. We can’t afford another mouth to feed. Besides, she looks like she’ll slow us down.” He makes sure to make eye contact with me with that last part. 

Back then I was not the skinniest kid. I ate. I loved sweets. I had a sweet tooth for it, but as childish as that sounds there’s also another reason why I ate so much. I ate to appease my emotions. I ate to hide the fact I knew my mother resented me, hated me. I knew whenever she looked at me she saw the one that took away the only person that loved her. I also knew that eating away my emotions did more harm than good. I knew eating my pain away wouldn’t blind me for long. It didn’t last as long as I wanted it to, but I just had to do it. At least that’s what I told myself back then. 

“She’s just a kid. She lost her family like the rest of us, but we’re a family. We need to be her family.”

“Now I didn’t have a crush on you right then and there, but you did. You told me that no one else had ever stuck up for you like that, especially not a stranger,” current Ashley explained. 

“Wow. I told you a lot.”

“We’ve spent a lot of our whole lives together. It makes sense that you would, but you were quite the talker. I mean you talked a lot, but I’d of course listen. Even if it didn’t make sense sometimes I loved hearing your voice, especially seeing you get all giddy as you spoke to me.”

Because of how lovingly she looks at me, I blush. She laughs at it. She teases me for it, but her face reddens as well. I tease her for it too. 

We didn’t talk much after that. Here and there we spoke, but I don’t know. We just didn’t hit it off at the time. Maybe it was because my younger self was shy. Maybe it was because I didn’t know how to talk to girls. Still, I admired her from afar. I kept my feelings a secret until the day we ran away from the group. I held her hand as I led her away from the group. 

Still, in my mind, I hear her words come out of younger Ashley’s mouth, “I think...Yeah, that was the moment I started to fall for you.”

Coming back to reality, “Really?”

“Yeah, for all my life up to then I was putting myself in danger to protect others. I don’t know maybe it’s selfish to even say this, but it was nice to have someone protecting me for once.”

I place my hand on top of hers. “I know you’re my wife. I get that, but I don’t remember. You can tell me all you want about our past, but as important as they are to us it doesn’t matter in the end because I don’t need them to be reminded that I want to protect you. That I will protect you. I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you ever again until death do us part.”

She leans in. The kiss feels familiar. Like we’ve kissed like this before. Maybe it was at our wedding, but it feels too raw to show it publicly. It feels too special to share with others, which is ironic considering we’re out in the open. This becomes more apparent with a cough coming from behind us. So, our lips depart and we turn to see Mikrovos trying to look away from us. “The ship,” he points his thumb over to its direction, “is done.”

She stands up and then helps me up. “Oh. Right. Well, we should get going then,” Ashley told me. 

I turn away from them. I look at the crops swaying around us. It’s like they’re dancing with the wind. 

“I’ll just go on ahead,” Mikrovos informed us as he scratched the back of his head. 

As I continue to watch the crops, she places a hand onto my shoulder. “What is it,” she asked. 

“We already know that I don’t remember much, but that just makes this harder to just leave. I wish I knew. I mean you can tell me, but it’s not the same. You know?”

“Yeah, but it’s just like what you said. You don’t need those memories. You’re about to make new, better ones.” I turned to her, wondering why she said that last part. “Your past wasn’t all that great. Sometimes it’s just better to forget than to remember.” Sure, her words were directed at me, but the look in her eyes makes me think she’s telling herself that. 

A dark, but familiar shadow loomed overhead. Saamuki’s spaceship lowered. When its door lowered as well, she greeted us. Well, it wasn’t so much as a greeting. “Get inside. Now,” she commanded. We don’t hesitate to do as she asked. Once we’re inside the both of us ask what’s happening. 

We get our answer when we’re once again getting shot at by The Confederacy. The ship rocks from side to side, causing us to stumble around. As we do, she orders for the AI to fly us away from Earth immediately. It does so with such a speed that we’re forced to stay flat on the floor until it slows. 

From the window I see Earth. I see the planet I grew up on. I see the planet that I called home. However, I’ve grown indifferent to it. I want to cry, but with her holding my hand I turn away from it. I look where everyone else is looking. We’re looking towards the infinite beauty that is outer space. We look toward the future that lies ahead. “Maybe one day I can make this right,” I told myself as I watch Earth grow small and smaller in the corner of my eye. 

[alsoyouremischievous]

Sides Carry On

Summary: Roman Prince will do anything to protect the life he’s found through magic. This includes enduring lectures from his best friends Logan and Patton, overcoming his evil roommate Virgil, working for the Mage, and defeating the Insidious Humdrum. His life seems to be set out for him - but things can never be easy, can they?

AO3 Link

Ch. 1 

Chapter two

Roman

I don’t think about Watford over the summers. It just isn’t good for me, so I don’t let myself.

I had to learn the hard way, of course. After my first year, I spent the entirety of summer daydreaming about all the things I’d left behind. Imagining the towers of the school, wishing for the amazing food (or really any food that doesn’t come on metal trays), remembering the magic of it all. I even became nostalgic for classes at Watford. More than any of it though, I longed for the people I’d met there - Logan, Patton, the Mage. I was terribly alone for someone surrounded by other castaway boys.

I was sick with the loss of it. Watford School of Magicks started to feel like just another fantasy of my overactive imagination. Something to make the time pass like when I’d dreamt of becoming an actor someday… Or that my parents, the real ones, would come back for me.

My mum would be an actress, obviously. And my dad would be some rugged athletic type. They would weep and plead for me to understand that they’d had no choice but to leave me. They were simply too young, and her career was on the line.

“But we always missed you, Roman,” they’d declare. “We’ve been searching for you.”  And I would forgive them, and they would take me away to their mansion hidden away behind a waterfall.

Waterfall mansion… Magickal boarding school…

They both felt like creations of my unchained whimsy in the light of day. Especially when you wake up in one bunk of eight to the room, with all the other discards.

I exhausted my memory of Watford so thoroughly that when proof of it being a reality came around with the fall, I was almost unconvinced. Even with the bus fare and papers and a note from the Mage himself right in front of me, I was scared to believe.

So now during the summers, I dedicate myself to ensuring all thoughts of my better life are locked up thoroughly. For months I shut myself away from it all, not allowing myself to miss it, or long for it. That way the World of Mages can show up as a reward for surviving the summer if it shows up at all. Which it always has, thus far.

At first, I was given the impression that eventually the Mage might allow me to spend summers at Watford, or maybe even at his side, wherever he ventures all summer long. Despite my enthusiasm for the idea, it was decided that I would be better off left with the Normals for part of the year. To allow me to be close to the language (as though anyone spoke to me away from Watford) and to keep my wits about me.

“Let hardship sharpen your blade, Roman."

I eventually realized he wasn’t talking about the Sword of Mages, which is my actual blade. He was talking about me. I’m the blade, The Mage’s sword.

I’m fairly convinced that these summers in children’s homes don’t make me any sharper. They do make me hungry though. Cause me to crave Watford like life itself.

Virgil and his side - all the old, rich families - they don’t think anyone can understand magic the way they can. They believe they are the only ones that should be trusted with it.

But no one loves magic like I do.

None of the other magicians, not my peers and not their parents, know what it’s like to live without magic at all.

Only I know.

Which is why I will do anything to ensure that it is always there for me to come home to.

***

I try not to let Watford into my thoughts when I’m away, but this year… Well, this year I failed.

After the events that occurred last year, I was shocked that the Mage even bothered paying attention to something like the end of term. Who interrupts a war to send the kids home for summer vacation?

Which isn’t to say I’m even a kid anymore. Legally, care wouldn’t have needed to keep me past sixteen, which means I could have gone off somewhere on my own. I could afford to support myself, what with my hard earned bag of leprechaun’s gold.

Still, the mage insists on keeping me in children’s homes. Shuffling me around like the ball in a cups trick. As though I would be safe wherever he decides to drop me, and the Humdrum couldn’t just summon me, the way he managed to do to me and Logan at the end of last term.

“He can summon you?! ” Logan had exclaimed as soon as we were in the clear. “And across a body of water no less. This shouldn’t be possible Roman, there is no precedent.”

“Well the next time he summons me like a half-assed squirrel demon,” I said, “ I’ll tell him so!”

Logan was unfortunate enough to have been holding me by the arm when I’d been spirited away, which is why I assume he’d been brought along. His quick thinking is the only reason either of us escaped.

“Roman,” he’d intoned on the train back to Watford that day, “this is serious.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious! I know this is serious, Logan, he’s got my fucking number.”

“How is it possible that we still know so little about him?” He fumed. “ He’s so…”

“Insidious,” I said. “Being ‘The Insidious Humdrum’, and all that.”

“This is no time for kidding around, Roman. Even you must see that this is…”

“I know, Logan”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Logan so lost for words as he was that day, trailing off and unable to keep his head on straight.

When we finally returned, the Mage heard us out, made sure we weren’t harmed and sent us on our way. Just sent us home, without a second thought.

It didn’t make any sense.

So, of course, I spent this whole summer thinking of Watford despite best efforts. Everything that had happened, and everything that might still happen… Everything that’s at stake.

All of the good things, however, were kept at bay. The good things are what hurt the most anyway.

I keep a list, of all the things I miss most, and I’m not allowed to touch it in my head until I’m about an hour from Watford. That’s when I allow myself to go over it and really feel how much I’ve missed it all before I finally get it all back.

My list of good things started when I was twelve, and it could do with having a few things crossed off of it, but that’s more difficult than one might expect.

Things I miss most about Watford:

No. 1 - Sour cherry scones

I’d never had cherry scones before Watford. I’d only been given the raisin ones, or more often the plain sort, and always the kind that were a little (or a lot) burnt.

At Watford, they have freshly baked cherry scones for breakfast every day if you so desire. Unless you sleep in and all the best foods are gone. They’re also ready for tea in the afternoon just before things like clubs and football and homework get started.

I always have tea with Logan and Patton. Even after all these years, Logan will scold us for eating the scones. “Dinner is in two hours, how much sustenance could you possibly need from now until then?” he’ll tsk at us.

Patton tried to calculate how many scones we’ve eaten since we started at Watford, once, but he got bored before he reached the answer. I suspect Logan might know. At the very least he could figure it out, but I doubt he’d indulge us with the answer if we asked for it. Maybe to better scold us.

I just can’t pass up the scones if they’re there. They’re soft and light and a little bit salty and I'm always allowed to eat them. They're a dream.

No. 2 - Logan

This spot on the list used to belong to “roast beef.” But a few years back, I decided to limit myself to one food item. Otherwise, the list turns into the food song from Oliver! , and I get so hungry that my stomach cramps.

I’m not sure that Logan should rank higher than Patton; they’re both my best friends. But Logan made the list first. He befriended me the very first week at school when he was still unsure about his enthusiastic roommate.

I didn’t know what to think of him when we met. He was a skinny little boy with light brown skin and a shock of blue hair. He wore pointy spectacles, the kind you might wear going as a witch for Halloween, and there was this giant blue ring weighing down his left hand. He was trying to help me with an assignment, and I think I just stared at him.

“I know you’re Roman Prince,” he said. “My mum told me you’d be here. She says you’re incredibly powerful, even more so than myself. I’m Logan Bunce.”

“I didn’t know someone like you could be named Logan,” I said. Stupidly.

He blinked back at me. “What do you suppose someone ‘like me’, might be named?” he’d implored, not quite yet mastering his poker face or his ‘superior’ face that I’m so familiar with now, but pulling off some combination of the two.

“I don’t know.” I didn’t know. Other boys I had met who looked like him were named Saanvi or Adit, and they definitely hadn’t had hair like his. “Saanvi?”

“Someone like me could have any sort of name, Roman,” Logan said.

“Oh. Right, my apologies.” I stuttered.

“I feel it also important to point out that we can also do whatever we desire with our hair,” he’d added, turning back to the assignment, fixing his hair away from his eyes. “I believe it’s considered impolite to stare, although different rules may apply between friends.”

“Are we friends?” I’d asked, surprised and the slightest bit in awe.

“I’m helping you with your lesson. It was my understanding that this is a thing that friends do.”

He was. He’d succeeded in helping me shrink a soccer ball to the size of a marble.

“I thought you were only helping me because I’m dumb,” I said.

“Everyone is dumb,” he’d asserted. “I’m helping you because I like you.”

It turned out that he’d accidentally turned his hair that color, trying out a new spell, and he hadn’t been able to hide it before anyone saw. He’d been too embarrassed to admit it had been a mistake. When Patton and I had realized we’d figured out how to do it ourselves in solidarity, Patton’s hair turning soft cotton candy colors of pink and light blue, and mine becoming a regal red hue.

Logan’s mum is Indian, and his dad is English. Or really they’re both English in that they’re both from London. He admitted later that his parents had wanted him to stay away from me. “My mum said that no one knew where you came from and that you may be dangerous.”

“Why didn’t you listen to her?” I asked.

“I just said, Roman, no one knew where you came from and you may have been dangerous.” To say nothing of his atrocious survival instincts, I do admire his small rebellion. I’m under the impression that his parents always wanted him to be more social than he naturally is. Making his first friend into the one person they’d ushered him away from must have felt like some small victory.

“And anyway, I couldn’t stand to watch such an awful display of magic,” he said. “You were holding your wand backward.”

I miss Logan every summer, even when I tell myself not to. The Mage doesn’t allow me to write or call anyone, but Logan still finds ways to send messages from him and Patton both. Once he’d actually possessed an old man down at the shop, the one who always forgot to put in his teeth, and he’d talked right through him. It was nice to hear from him and everything, but it was so disturbing that I asked him not to attempt it again, emergencies aside.

No. 3 - Patton

Patton came into my life a couple weeks after Logan had declared our friendship.

The Crucible had cast him and Logan in a room together, so I had a general idea of what he was like based off of Logan’s comments. Before we were formally introduced I already knew that Patton was very emotional, that he loved cookies and dad jokes, and that he would try to hug a cactus if he thought it was sad. He lived up to expectations but completely surprised me by how comforting his presence could be. His actions from anyone else would be overwhelming and likely to drive me away, but Patton overcame this by being entirely genuine.

It didn’t take five minutes for the chubby kid with his golden hair and blinding smile to worm his way into my heart.

Logan had been perplexed over why they had ended up put together. The Crucible cast roommates in a way that most pairs were compatible or could form some sort of bond. He couldn’t understand why he ended up with someone who seemed to be his polar opposite.

Patton immediately took a liking to Logan even in the face of the others obvious reluctance to any sort of bonding happening between them. That’s how we met - Patton seeking Logan out to spend time with him despite already having made friends with the majority of student in our year some way or another. And to be fair to Logan, he really did warm up to Patton rather quickly after I accepted his friendship.

I’m glad that they were put together by an outside force because, even with Patton’s ability to charm almost anyone, I don’t think they would have been close if they weren't. The Crucible definitely didn’t make a mistake with them. They balance each other out perfectly despite their bickering. The only mistake the Crucible made was putting me and Virgil Grimm-Pitch anywhere we might have to breathe the same air.

I miss Patton right along with Logan each year. Sometimes he gets Logan to send cookies along with his messages. They’re never very good, but they always make me smile.

No. 4 - The theater

I don’t get to act as much as I used to. I don’t have enough time to between all the schemes I get caught up in and going out on missions for the Mage. You just can’t reliably perform when the godforsaken Humdrum could summon you away at any moment he cares to, so I’m not in the drama club. Which means I don’t get to be in any of the plays that Watford puts on.

I do get to act though. I’m allowed time to do monologues or perform scenes if I can convince another to join me. And it’s a glorious stage: fantastic lighting, and scarlet curtains. The acoustics in there are simply divine…

Virgil is in the drama club. Of course. The villain.

He’s only a techie, but he’s part of the productions and he handles his position the way he handles everything else. Capably, with vigilance. And an absolute disdain for the world at large.

No. 5 - My school uniform

I put this on the list when I was twelve. You have to realize that when I first got my uniform, it was also the first time I’d ever had clothes that weren’t secondhand, and that fit me properly. For someone used to ratty tees and jeans that were too short on me, receiving an impeccably fitted blazer and dress pants with a tie to complete the look… Well, suddenly I felt taller. And stylish. Until Virgil walked into the room, much taller than me and confident enough to scoff at following dress codes.

There are eight years at Watford. The first and second years wear striped blazers in two shades of purple and green, with dark grey dress pants, green sweaters, and red ties.

Additionally, there is a boater hat that must be worn on the grounds until you reach sixth year. Teachers enforce this mostly to see which of us have strong enough Stay put spells to keep the wind from carrying them away. Logan always took care of mine for fear that I would end up sleeping in it should I attempt the spell.

There’s a brand new uniform waiting for me every fall when I reach our room. It will be laid out for me on my bed, clean and pressed and perfectly fitted, no matter how I’ve changed or grown.

The upper years, which is me now, wear green blazers with white piping, and red sweaters if we want them. Capes are optional, too, which I wear of course. They’re fabulous. I’ll never understand why Logan avoids them. Patton wears his sometimes, just to wrap up in it as though it's a blanket.

I like the uniform, and knowing what I’m going to wear every day. I’m not sure what I’ll end up wearing next year when my time at Watford is finished.

I had thought I would join the Mage’s Men, who have their own uniforms which look like an amalgam of Robin hood and MI6. Then the Mage told me that isn’t my path.

That’s how the Mage talks to me. “It’s not your path, Roman. Your destiny lies elsewhere.”

He wishes for me to be separate from the average, with private training and special lessons. I’m not sure he would even let me go to school at Watford at all if he weren’t headmaster there. That and he knows Watford to be the safest place for me.

If I were to let the Mage dress me after leaving Watford I might end up kitted out like a superhero. Or an actual prince.

I’m not asking anyone what I should wear after I leave. I’m eighteen. I’ll dress myself.

Or Logan and Patton will help.

No. 6 - My room

I should say “our room,” but I don’t miss the sharing-with-Virgil part of it.

Your room and your roommate get picked out for you in your first year and you don’t ever get to switch. Trust me. I’ve tried. At the very least you never have to clear out your things.

Sharing a room with someone who would like nothing more than to murder me, and has felt this way since we were eleven, is a very stressful and dismal experience.

The Crucible must have felt bad for casting Virgil and me together because we got the best room there is at Watford. Logan says it’s very unlikely that the crucible is sentient in any way, but I believe it must have felt guilty.

We live in Mummers House, on the edge of the school grounds. It’s a four and a half story building made out of stone, and our room is at the very top, located in a turret facing the moat that surrounds the school. The turret just happens to be too small for two rooms, but significantly bigger than the other student accommodations, which means we get our own en-suite.

Virgil is not a bad person to share a bathroom with. He’s in there all morning, presumably applying his eyeshadow beneath his eyes like a moron, but he’s clean. Also, he’s extremely territorial so his stuff is never in my way. Logan says our bathroom smells like cedar and bergamot, and that’s got to be Virgil for it certainly isn’t me.

No. 7 - The Mage

I also put the Mage on the list when I was twelve, and since then there have been many times that I’ve wondered if I should take him off.

For example, there was the time in sixth year, when he ignored me. Whenever I spoke to him he would send me away claiming to be in the middle of something serious.

That still happens quite often. I understand, of course, he is the headmaster. And more than that he practically runs the World of Mages, since he’s head of the Coven. It’s not like he’s my dad. He’s not my anything.

It’s just that he is the closest I’ve got to anything.

If he hadn’t come to get me I wouldn’t know who I am or anything about the World of Mages. He even still looks out for me sometimes, mostly when I’m least likely to pay attention. When he does have time for me, to actually talk, it makes me feel completely grounded. I fight better when he’s around. And think better. Somehow, when I’m with him, I can buy into the things he’s always told me. I can believe that I’m the most powerful magician ever to face the World of Mages.

I even believe, just for a while, that so much power is a good thing, or at least that it will be. Someday. That I’ll get my shit together eventually and solve more problems than I cause.

The Mage, coincidentally, is the only one allowed to reach me over the break.

No. 8 - Magic

Not my magic, as that doesn’t ever leave me and doesn’t actually give me any comfort.

What I miss is being around magic. The casual, ambient sort of magic that comes from being with magicians who don’t know any other way of life. People casting spells in the hallways and throughout lessons. Someone sending a plate of sausages down the dinner table like it’s bouncing on wires.

It isn’t actually a world of its own, the World of Mages. There aren’t any magical cities or villages inhabited solely by those with magic. Magicians are spread out around the world just like any other group of people, which is supposedly safer. That’s what Logan’s mum said anyway, that it prevents us being too far removed from mundanity the way the fairies did. The fairies found it tedious dealing with the rest of the world and so they wandered into the woods for a couple centuries and lost their way back.

Which makes Watford the only place that magicians live together unless they’re related I guess. Social clubs for magicians exist, and there are parties and social gatherings, but Watford remains the only place where we’re all together all the time. I think that may be why people have been coupling up like nobodies business in the last few years. Apparently not meeting your spouse at Watford could mean ending up alone.

When I’m alone, magic becomes something personal and burdensome. It’s a heavy secret.

But at Watford, magic is just the air that we breathe. Magic makes me a part of something bigger, as opposed to setting me apart the way it does for three quarters of the year.

No. 9 - Picani and the goats

I started helping Picani the goatherd in second year. For a while, hanging out with the goats was pretty much my favorite thing. (Which Virgil had a field day with.) Picani is the nicest person at Watford. He’s younger than the teachers and surprisingly powerful for somebody who decided to spend his life taking care of goats.

“I don’t think power has anything to do with it,” Picani would say. “You don’t make someone play thrashcanball just because they’re tall.”

“I think you meant basketball.” Living at Watford does leave you a bit out of touch. Logan’s mum did have a point about not removing ourselves from society.

“Same difference. I’m not a soldier, so I don’t see why I should have to fight for a living because I can throw a punch.” I don’t think Picani has punched anyone in his life.

The Mage claims we’re all soldiers, so long as you have an ounce of magic in you. He says that is what's dangerous about the old ways, having magicians treat magic as something they don’t have to protect. Feeling entitled to magic, or using it as a toy.

Picani doesn’t have a dog for the goats. He just uses his staff. I’ve seen him turn the whole herd with a wave of his hand. He’d started teaching me, even, how to pull the goats back one by one; how to make them all feel at once that they’d gone too far. I even helped with the birthing one spring.

I don’t get to spend time with Picani often anymore.

He and the goats remain on the list though. I like stopping to think of them for a minute.

No. 10 - The Wavering Wood

I should take this one off the list.

Fuck the Wavering wood.

Ch. 3

[syrupwit]

Letter for Multifandom Horror Exchange

Hello there, and welcome to my letter for Multifandom Horror Exchange 2020! I appreciate that you’ve taken the time to read this letter. I hope that it will provide you with clarification, inspiration, or at the very least a bit of entertainment. Although I’ve written more for some sections and less for others, rest assured that I would be super excited to receive a gift for any of my requested fandoms, characters, pairings, or horror types.

Please see the table of contents below:

Likes

DNWs

Fandom: House (1977)

Fandom: Invader Zim

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Fandom: Too Many Cooks (2014 Short)

-

Likes

A long list of my general likes can be found here.

When it comes to horror, I tend to prefer psychological explorations, suspense, and disturbing implications to explicit gore and violence, although I’m definitely not opposed to more graphic content. I love ominous atmospheres; building, lingering senses of dread; and landscapes and environments that interact with and express the characters’ fears, anxieties, and griefs. I especially love horror with supernatural elements -- ghosts and hauntings, monsters and cryptids, eldritch deities and their cultists, magic and magic users. I’m also a big fan of cosmic horror, and the sense that characters are pitted against amoral, indifferent forces that might not even recognize them as significant enough to be hostile towards but that are nonetheless damaging to human life. Additionally, I really like dark comedy, gallows humor, and horror with a more comedic / parodic / satirical slant.

While I typically prefer hopeful or bittersweet endings for my requested characters and pairings, please go for it if you have a great idea with a darker ending.

Some horror media I have really enjoyed but am not requesting for this exchange include the short stories of M. R. James and JS Le Fanu; William Hope Hodgson’s Carnacki, the Ghost-Finder stories; Clark Ashton Smith’s Averoigne stories; “The Night Ocean” by R. H. Barlow and H. P. Lovecraft; the connected-ish novels The Red Tree and The Drowning Girl by Caitlin R. Kiernan; the parody / pastiche novels of A. Lee Martinez; My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix; and the movies Suspiria (1977 version -- haven’t seen the new one yet), The Others (2001), and Kwaidan (1965). Also I really love Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace. I don’t know if listing all that helps, but there it is.

-

Do Not Want (DNW)

Underage sex

Character or ship bashing

Hate speech or in-depth onscreen depictions / discussions of bigotry

Harm to pet animals, or any graphic animal harm (fighting a giant evil wolf or something is fine)

Characters having consensual sex when they are not attracted to each other

Noncon that goes against a character’s in-fic orientation

Bestiality

Scat

Necrophilia

Sexual activity involving worms / spiders / insects

-

FANDOM: HOUSE (1977)

Requested Fanwork Types: Fic -- Not Emphasizing Sexual Content

Requested Horror Types: Dark Fantasy, Folk Horror, Gothic Horror, Psychological Horror

Requested Characters/Pairings: Auntie & Gorgeous, Auntie/Fantasy, Kung Fu/Sweet

If you are not yet familiar with House or are looking for a refresher, this fanvid by AbsoluteDestiny hits most of the high points: Rock Lobster [YouTube link]. The basic plot is that seven girls visit their classmate’s aunt in the countryside for summer vacation. While initially charmed by the aunt’s quaint manners and old-fashioned home, they soon discover that something is very wrong. Things get weirder and weirder as more of the girls disappear and the aunt’s past is revealed. Innovative art design, a bangin soundtrack, and a kaleidoscopic array of surreal, absurd events and images make this film a memorable, exuberantly strange experience. Also, the aunt is hot, and you can quote me on that.

*** PLEASE NOTE THAT THE FOLLOWING RELATIONSHIP SECTIONS INCLUDE MINOR SPOILERS ***

Relationship: Auntie & Gorgeous

I’d love to learn more about the dynamic between Gorgeous and her aunt. How long had Auntie planned to prey on / possess her? Did they truly have any interactions while Auntie was alive? After the film’s ending, is there anything next for them? I’m a big fan of Subtle Menace and Vague Yet Troubling Implications, so scenes of Gorgeous going about her daily life while receiving odd letters from her aunt absolutely would not go amiss. And what’s up with the cat?

Relationship: Auntie/Fantasy

The postwar generation gap and feelings of alienation between younger/older people are major themes in House. I think this finds a lot of expression in the relationship between Auntie and Fantasy, Gorgeous’s best friend who is prone to daydreaming and ill-equipped to grasp the full tragedy of Auntie’s life. One of the concluding scenes of the film involves a possessed-by-Auntie Gorgeous holding Fantasy’s head to her breast and petting her hair while she cries; I guess that’s just very interesting to me. I love UST and ominousness and weirdness, so please go for it if you have an idea that involves any of those things for this pairing. 

Relationship: Kung Fu/Sweet

These two are just cute, and a little sad. Kung Fu is the action girl of the friend group, and Sweet is a gentle, polite girl who Kung Fu feels she has to protect. Unfortunately Sweet gets attacked by futons and trapped in a clock, and then Kung Fu is eaten by a lamp. What might happen in an AU where they survive, or where the house consumes the courses of its meal in a different order? Is there a “wandering through dreamland” element to the nightmare dimension where they’re trapped at the end? Perhaps the body horror from the movie is played straight, and Kung Fu’s head and legs continue to move independently of each other though they share the same mind (agh). Who knows?

-

FANDOM: INVADER ZIM

Requested Fanwork Types: Fic -- Not Emphasizing Sexual Content, Fic -- Emphasizing Sexual Content

Requested Horror Types: Institutional Horror, Paranormal Horror, Science-Fiction Horror, Survival Horror

Requested Characters/Pairings: Dib/Zim

Like a good chunk of people in the fandom right now, I had my teenage love for this show revived by last summer’s movie. There’s something irresistible to me about the blend of snappy comedy, unapologetic pessimism, and hints of a more complicated universe that we just barely get to see. For this exchange, I’d be thrilled with a story that retains the lighter elements of canon, as well as something that explores a darker take on things. I haven’t read any of the comics yet, but feel free to include stuff from them if you like.

Relationship: Dib/Zim

Apparently this is my OTP. Yeah, I don’t know either. The enemies to frenemies or lovers dynamic is one of my favorites. I particularly enjoy these two as outcasts who fruitlessly seek validation from indifferent or hostile societies via their rivalry when they’re the ones who really understand each other best. I prefer their relationship to end up a positive thing for both of them, if with some rough territory along the way. Like a good chunk of ZADR fandom, I prefer this ship aged up to late teens or young adults, but feel free to write them canon age as well -- just no underage sex, please.

For each type of horror I’ve requested, here are some ideas I have:

Institutional Horror: The world of Invader Zim is full of unpleasant and draconian institutions -- for example, the Crazy House for Boys, or Dib’s school with its underground classrooms. Irken society itself is one big dystopian horror-fest on pretty much all levels.

Paranormal Horror: The supernatural is another canonical feature of this universe. <3 Does Dib get in over his head investigating strange phenomena? Does he raise the walking dead again, get grounded for it, and have no choice but to stand by helplessly while his zombies overtake the city? Does Zim acquire an unwanted tenant in the form of a ghost, or a mysterious artifact that promises to grant all his wishes? There are so many options.

Science-Fiction Horror: Haunted ships and abandoned research stations, the yawning emptiness of deep space, eldritch monsters beyond the stars... Dib and Zim can encounter all of these and pretend not to be scared out of their wits by them. Also! Killer robots, sentient computer viruses, experiments gone wrong? Anything you like.  

Survival Horror: These two would make great survival horror protagonists on their own, but I also really like the idea of them being thrown in a situation where they have to work together to make it out. I really like the idea of Zim and Dib being pitted against a more serious antagonist or challenge than those they encounter in canon, and of them realizing that, despite the many canonical instances of mutual attempted murder, neither actually wants the other to die. (And then getting out with a new understanding of their importance to each other! Or ending miserably. Either way.)

-

FANDOM: THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES

Requested Fanwork Types: Fic -- Not Emphasizing Sexual Content, Fic -- Emphasizing Sexual Content

Requested Horror Types: Cosmic/Lovecraftian Horror, Folk Horror, Institutional Horror, Paranormal Horror, Religious Horror

Requested Characters/Pairings: Gerard Keay, Mary Keay & Gertrude Robinson, Mary Keay/Gertrude Robinson, Trevor Herbert & Julia Montauk, Sasha James/Michael, Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas

As a rule, I’m not into podcasts. I sat down with the first episode of this series about a month ago and became obsessed within two days. (I am now caught up through Season 5.) I love the unique worldbuilding, and the way the horror feels really genuinely horrifying and modern and immediate even when it’s one of those rad historical episodes, and all the characters, and the plot, and aaaahhhhhhh I love it. I’d just really like to hear more about this universe (and characters), and all the terrible things that can happen in it (and to them).

Character: Gerard Keay

Poor, doomed Gerry Keay. I want to know more about his adventures! Canon divergence, pre-canon, something set nebulously present or post-canon -- I’m here for all of it. I ship him romantically with pretty much every character except his parents, and platonically with every character including his parents; in particular, I like him with Gertrude and Jon. If you’d like some slightly more specific prompts, here are a few:

Trevor and Julia using Gerard as a monster manual, pre-Season 3. Did they ever run into something he couldn’t identify?

AU where Jon keeps his page instead of destroying it.

Working or traveling with Gertrude, trying to relax after a taxing case but getting pulled into another one.

Teenage Gerard chasing Leitners and getting in over his head.

Relationship: Mary Keay & Gertrude Robinson | Mary Keay/Gertrude Robinson

Grouping the platonic and romantic ships together because I like both and am mostly just interested in seeing these two interact more. “Dubiously (a)moral older women on orthogonal sides of a conflict, also one of them semi-kills the other” is, like, a dynamic that could have been tailor-made for me.

Mary Keay is so deeply creepy -- her statement in “First Edition” gave me legitimate shivers. Her quest for power and attempts to control the Entities are really interesting to me, and I enjoy how they contrast with Gertrude’s more utilitarian, less openly self-serving approach. Gertrude, on the other hand… I just fuckin love Gertrude. The frail old lady exterior hiding a ruthless will and a spine of magically reinforced steel -- I swoon. (I should note that I really like stuff that explores the more vulnerable and messy sides of badass / competent characters, especially female characters. If Gertrude locks up her heart and throws away the key, etc., what could make it strain its chains...? Or, uh, something like that.)

Relationship: Trevor Herbert & Julia Montauk

Yes! Obnoxious monster hunters!! I’m intrigued by their intuitive understanding of each other and strong bond despite the age gap and different life experiences. Do the demands of the Hunt ever interfere with their partnership? What sorts of gnarly, gross, twisted, chilling, or darkly funny situations have they gotten into over the course of their travels? I love them as happy monsters in comic, if gruesome, circumstances, but I’d also be down for something exploring the darker or softer sides of their work and relationship.

Relationship: Sasha James/Michael 

I was mad interested by Michael’s introduction in “A Distortion,” and Sasha was so brave with him. I’m a huge sucker for the trope where a supernatural creature protects or helps a weak ordinary human, even if it’s for a price, and for any monster romance along those lines. Perhaps these two have other encounters between their first meeting and Sasha’s murder, or an alternate first meeting? Perhaps Michael rescues her from the Not!Them? Or perhaps, in an AU, Archivist!Sasha has a very different sort of relationship with the Distortion? Or something else...?!

Relationship: Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas

A later addition, but I couldn’t help myself. I love how amiable and sensible Peter acts even as he’s carrying out dread errands, and I felt for poor Martin dealing with Peter’s weird corporate speak and technology issues. There’s so much potential for comedy, angst, and multi-layered horror with this pairing -- the Lonely is such a strangely seductive concept even as it’s terrifying, and Peter’s relationship to it is very interesting. Peter, himself, is very interesting. Martin, I’m just very fond of, all his courage and scheming and petulance (and codependent tendencies). I’m down for pretty much anything about this pairing.

-

FANDOM: TOO MANY COOKS (2014 SHORT)

Requested Fanwork Types: Fic -- Not Emphasizing Sexual Content

Requested Horror Types: Cosmic/Lovecraftian Horror, Killer Horror, Psychological Horror, Survival Horror

Requested Characters/Pairings: Character of Author’s Choice

The “Too Many Cooks” short can be watched for free on YouTube.

I remember watching this when it came out. I watched it again when I saw it in the nominations for this exchange, and yep, STILL CREEPY AS FUCK. ❤︎❤︎❤︎ I love the genre parodies in this short almost as much as the gradually eroding realities / intensifying horror and strangeness. I would love to hear more about this nightmare world and how an individual character might experience it. Really, I’m up for almost anything here. :D

[aiimaginesbts]

Race Against Time: Chapter 1

Jungkook feat. Reader and Namjoon. The rest of BTS will appear in the future chapters

Genre: Thriller, Darkfic

Warning: This fic is about murder cases, and may include some graphic imagery. Please read with caution.

Word Count: 2, 639 words

A/N: A big part of the MO is based on Killing Hour by Lisa Gardner. Check her out, her novels are really good! I’d also like to thank my two friends (and her doctor husband) who helped me figure out the details for the story, there is way more research involved in writing this than I expected.

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | Epilogue

Disclaimer/Copyright

Jungkook sighs inwardly, fighting the urge to run his fingers through his hair, opting to clench his hands into fists instead. He knows that he has to remain calm. Or look the part, anyway. People are watching. They are always watching, and he feels the constant need to prove himself. He takes a deep breath, blocking out the commotion surrounding the roped off crime scene to dip his chin down to the still form on the ground.

Even though death has claimed the colour in her, leaving her pale and cold, it is obvious that she had been a beauty. Her long blonde hair pools neatly on the right side of her head, brushed to the side with such care it seems almost loving. Jungkook scans her body with interest, an uneasy sense of déjà vu creeping up on him. It is so similar that it can’t be a coincidence – especially the cruel mark at her throat, although clean, tells him that she is another victim of the same killer who claimed the life of the first body they found last month.

Exactly one month ago Parking lot of the largest bowling alley in the city

Emerging from his car alone, Jungkook saw that there were already several officers setting up a parameter in silence. He had received a call early that morning to head there, and he drove straight from home instead of stopping by the office first, leaving you disgruntled for being roused at the crack of dawn after a long night of reading journals and writing. He slammed the door shut, locking the car behind him as he approached one of the officers who turned to him immediately upon his arrival, opting to talk to the man he took to be the first officer on the scene before addressing the body on the ground in the middle of the section.

“Agent Jeon.” Jungkook simply nodded at him in response, getting right down to business. “What happened here?”

“Got a call from the owner of this joint about an hour ago. Man was all panicked, said he found a girl unconscious when he came in to take inventory. When he walked towards her to see if she’s alright, he saw that she’s dead.” Jungkook noticed that the young officer avoided looking at the immobile figure behind him as he talked, only waving his arm behind him to indicate the general location of the body.

“Dead? Did he see if she’s breathing before calling you?”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably at the question. “Ahem. I don’t think so, sir. One look at her and you’d know.”

Jungkook frowned at that but pressed on. “Did he see anyone around, before and after he found the body?”

Another no. “She was already there when he got here, sir. And he made sure she was in sight when he called to make the report.”

Jungkook nodded and walked past the jittery officer to see her himself, ignoring the whoosh of relief that escaped the man at reaching the end of a stressful conversation with an intimidating superior. Judging by his looks, Jungkook was not that much older than the young officer, but he was used to that reaction by now whether it was from a new recruit or an experienced agent after he gained fame for capturing a serial killer who terrorised the people for months, then went on to solve several other cases. He wished that people wouldn’t treat him differently, but he guessed it couldn’t be helped after his not-so-subtle promotion following his feat.

The tar and pebbles of the parking lot crunched louder under his feet as he stopped and crouched down to study the victim. He winced at the term; most agents he knew avoided the terms ‘girl’, ‘man’, ‘child’, ‘young’ and the like when referencing to a dead person, but you once told him that you felt that it was disturbing to use the terms ‘it’, or ‘victim’, or ‘deceased’ as they used to be alive, too, and should still be respected even in death. Your words stuck with him. Several years in this field taught him that it was easy to lose yourself, and you helped him retain his humanity, his sense of self.

She looked young, probably in her early twenties, just out of school or in college. Her attire was not something he would have expected from someone at that age, though. An over-sized white shirt covered her body, big enough to almost hide the blue shorts underneath, but not quite. More puzzling than her being barefoot is how clean she seemed. Not a trace of makeup adorned her face, and from what he could see, he suspected that the only dirt she had on her body was underneath her from the gravel that her body laid on, and a streak of black in her hair that stood out against her blonde locks. Contrasting to her lack of cosmetics, she wore a pair of earrings and a funny-looking choker. Her lips and skin were pale, but that was to be expected if she had been dead for several hours, and she must have been as the call from the owner came over an hour ago now. Who knew when she died here or if this was where she was killed at all?

Because as the first officer on the scene had told him, there was no doubt that she was dead. Soon the other crime scene investigators arrived, and when the evidence – only a purse clutched in her hand – and her body was lifted, the green strip Jungkook had thought to be a choker slipped, revealing a gash across her neck. His eyes widened in shock at the sight and he swallowed bile that threatened to make its way up into his mount. Her throat had been slashed open. The ‘choker’ had actually been a plant, probably a weed of some sort, and was immediately removed to be photographed and bagged as evidence. To say that everyone had been mortified at the discovery would be an understatement. The medical examiner, Namjoon, with whom Jungkook had worked with on previous cases, grabbed his arm painfully, the doctor’s face drained of colour in terror.

A search through her purse later did not prove to be of much use; a sum of money left in it convinced them that she was not robbed. A small metal ring in the shape of a ‘D’ in the purse threw them in for a loop. Why was a girl carrying such a thing in her purse? A few days later, the autopsy revealed the fact that they had seen with their own eyes: the victim died from blood loss after her throat was slit open, presumably with a knife. It had to be a very sharp one, since it sliced clean across her neck in a straight line. Whatever motivation drove the killer to commit the act, he did not hesitate in completing it. Interestingly, her body held no signs of sexual assault. In fact, the only harm that was done to her body, other than her neck was a set of markings on her back, a two pronged reddish spots from a Taser, which Jungkook assumed to be the killer’s method of subduing the victim. The black strip on her hair turned out to be oil, but other than that, the body was clean.

Abnormally clean. Jungkook leafed through the report, this time allowing himself to rake his fingers through his hair in frustration as he sighed in the privacy of his office. The report said that the body was wiped clean with a chemical, presumably with ammonia, even the wound had been cleaned so that no blood spilled around the length of plant that was carefully wrapped around her neck. Was it to hide evidence, or did the killer seek to purify the body for some reason? Was this girl a sacrifice for a cult? No marking that indicated that she was one was found on her. No statement of any kind, if the killer wanted to make his agenda or cause known. If he took the time to clean her up, why was there a streak of oil in her hair? It would have been terribly remiss of him to forget that.

Was it a clue, then? If it was a clue, why leave it for them to find? Was it truly an accident, and the oil would lead him to the killer, or was it left there to throw him off the scent? Jungkook turned to the collection of photos of the crime scene, the victim and the peculiar evidences found on the girl. A 10-millimeter d-ring. The green plant, a seaweed, he was told. Did the oil belong to these pair of strange evidences? Are these a clue of some sort? Because if they were, he had no clue what they meant.

Thankfully, the girl was found early in the morning. The owner of the bowling alley agreed to help by keeping it to himself, and Jungkook was surprised that he had kept true to his word so far. The news of the dead girl had not spread like Jungkook was afraid it would, because he would not know what to tell the people and the press who would surely descend on him like vultures if they so much as get a sniff of this. This case was baffling him, no clear motive and no trace of evidence to lead to the killer, unless he counted the three odd findings that did not seem to be linked to one another, or lead anywhere. He had no clue where to even begin the investigation.

Lack of ID was also a problem. The victim’s prints were taken, but with the bureau’s heavy load, it took several days for the system to identify her. Five days to be exact. Five days before Jungkook found out who the poor girl who got her neck slashed was, and for him it was five days too late. The call came for him first.

Unlike the first time, the call came mid-morning on the fifth day after the blonde girl had been found, while Jungkook was reading a report in his office, nursing a cup of coffee in his hands. He was asked to go to Port Liddington immediately. The crime scene investigation team moved with haste to the maritime container terminal, where they were greeted with another taped-off scene around one of the freight containers.

Another girl. A slit throat was not the cause of death this time, though. No, this girl died a slow and painful death. Trapped in one of many containers in the terminal, with no light, no one that could hear her scream and pound on the walls, no food and water. The steel shipping box was empty except for the young girl who had perished from dehydration, and her bodily waste in a corner. Jungkook tried not to imagine the fear and loneliness she must have felt as she slowly started losing hope, her thirst evolving into headaches and leg cramps from lack of water, and wondered if she became delirious before succumbing into unconsciousness and then actually giving in to death.

The team ignored the stench and got to work, methodically photographing the body and the crime scene, preserving the evidence, of which there was not much, only a purse that contained a wad of cash and two IDs. The first ID was of the brunette girl they had just found, Kimberly Williams. The second one surprised Jungkook. Susannah Johnson, it said, the picture on the card showing the blonde girl from the parking lot of the bowling alley.

Results of the first victim’s prints came to him later that day, but there was no use for it anymore. The IDs allowed them to identify the girls, Susannah and Kimberly, freshmen at the university you were attending. They were last seen at a frat party thrown during the summer break by one of the students. Since they were on break, many students opted to return home for a holiday, so no one noticed that the two girls were missing from their dorm rooms.

Jungkook began to put things together, and the analysis of the evidences found on the first victim that he received later solidified his suspicions. The condition of the seaweed confirmed that it was from the port, the oil in her hair was bunker fuel that was used to power cargo ships carrying containers such as the one the second victim was found in. And the d-ring was actually a part of the 6 meters long freight container itself.

The puzzling clues made sense now. They were left with the first girl to lead them to the second one. However, the second victim had nothing of the sort. No hints, nothing out of the ordinary, except the fact that she was left for dead in a dark metal crate in party clothes that probably made her shiver with cold during those chilling lonely nights by the sea she must have spent praying that someone would find her. It did not escape Jungkook’s notice that the two students were dressed very differently. The short dress and high heels that Kimberly wore suited the occasion they were last seen in, assuming that they were kidnapped after leaving the party. Susannah’s simple shirt and shorts, however… not to mention her missing shoes. It had been a while since either Jungkook or you attended a college party, but he was sure that was not a look that was popular with the young crowd now.

He slammed the case file shut. If he thought the first victim was devoid of anything useful, the second girl offered him nothing whatsoever, other than the IDs of the two students. Was this the end, then? Were there more girls to be discovered? It was a long day for Jungkook, having to meet the families of the deceased and attempting to figure out if any of their other friends were missing. As far as the mourning families knew, there was no one else… so far.

Until now.

Present day A children’s playground on the West Side

After the news of the dead students came out, you had approached Jungkook about the case, concerned that such an atrocity happened to people from your institution. Unfortunately he was unable to share with you as many details as he would have liked, but you understood his position. You were worried that it may happen again, and Jungkook had no real words of comfort for you. He could only say that he hoped that it was a murder of revenge, a one-time thing, and given time, he would be able to figure everything out and find the killer. You had smiled in encouragement, believing in his abilities as you’ve always had.

Looking down at the youthful face of the dead girl on the grass, the laceration across her neck not even covered this time, then at the growing crowd surrounding the scene, Jungkook wonders how to tell you that he suspects that another pair of students have been kidnapped, one is dead in front of his very eyes and the other is still missing.

[leaveharmony]

@yungcrybby-anonymousbosch  Consider me near rambled out :) 1.       How old were you when you first started watching?

I wish I could answer that with 100% accuracy.  I know for certain I was by 1990 (8 years old), but, if my earliest memory is correct and not a falsely-implanted one than it would have been as early as 1986 (4 or so).  Probably I was casually aware of it as a very young child and then slowly got more fanatic about it (this might have coincided with the first real meteoric rise of WWF / more available programming).

2.       What company or companies did you watch?   Early-on it was exclusively WWF, I'd say around 1998 I started occasionally tuning into WCW.

3.       What is your earliest wrestling memory?   I would swear up and and down that I remember Hogan and King Kong Bundy in the blue steel cage at Wrestlemania 2.  I used to watch wrestling with my grandfather (pop pop) at my grandparent's house, I remember they had a textured green carpet at the time and I'd lay on the floor...I swear, that I remember at least some of the extended family going there to watch WM2.  But nobody else can tell me if this actually happened.  If not, then I very clearly remember one of Jake Robert's snakes biting Randy Savage, in the ring (1991?).  I definitely remember the brief time before the Undertaker's first face turn.  And I very vaguely recall everybody being really excited when Hogan bodyslammed Andre the Giant (WM3, 1987). 4.       What attracted you to wrestling?   Mmm...I really don't know.  There's sort of a chicken and the egg aspect to it, I'm not sure I could pin down exactly why I gravitated towards anything as a child, but wrestling is even harder to figure out.  Pop pop used to get quite involved with it and we didn't really have a lot in common, so that might have been part of it.  Conversely, my parents were openly mocking about it, so, it might have also been a touch of my old tendency to be fiercely contrary.  I can def. tell you that the Texas Tornado was one of my favs because of all the fringes on his boots, and I liked the Ultimate Warrior's facepaint and all of Flair's glittery robes, and the like...so bright colours and pageantry might have had something to do with it.  And I was nuts about Miss Elizabeth in all her dated finery lol.  Big-boom 80's/early 90's WWF was certainly geared towards kids and I was right in that target audience.   5.       What is your favorite aspect of wrestling? I've always been attracted to characters more than plots, yunno?  In books or films, or series, if I like enough of the characters I'll stick with it even if the plotting is kinda terrible.  So I think it's just the personalities and people, tbh.  For a very long time I wondered if I'd ever been a -wresting fan- or just an -Undertaker fan-, a question I can now answer with the former, but, it's the wrestlers I'm fondest of that keep me involved, I think. 6.       What do you think the general public gets wrong about wrestling? “They don't really get hurt” would be my number one pet peeve misconception.  My father, for instance, would be one of those guys JR was loudly denouncing during HitC/KotR 1998 who would completely sincerely say “Yeah, but they know how to fall.” after watching a man fall 13ft through a table onto a concrete floor.  Which is why I would never watch it anywhere near him. 7.       Do you have any friends who also watch wrestling? There's you!  :D  I have more now than I used to, I was a solitary practitioner for a long time.  Now I'd say as many as five, anyway...and I've converted my mother lol. 8.       Did you eventually start watching other companies? A very limited bit of WCW (1998-the end of the company)..I would sometimes turn it over during commercial breaks in Raw/Smackdown.  I watched some TNA (whenever they got the deal w/ Spike TV -2006 or so when I couldn't stand looking at Jeff Jarrett anymore). 9.       What has kept you interested wrestling? Every single time I've stopped watching and returned, the return was because of the Undertaker.  He’d be the catalyst to the reaction which would follow... 10.   Are you interested in any other wrestling companies? Gateway-drugged by Shinsuke, I'm currently consuming as much NJPW as is possible by one single mortal human being on a linear timeline. 11.   What, if any, barriers are there to you watching other wrestling companies you’re interested in? Availability, relative ignorance and time constraints, I suppose?  It's sort of...akin to jumping into a longrunning comic series with no sense of the history of the lore.  Can be a little bit overwhelming and I think I'd have to do promotions one at a time.  It was different with NJPW and Shinsuke, because I knew at least one face and name so I had a jumping off point, and then through his matches -with- other people, came to know others as well.  I took notes! 12.   Have you ever been to a live wrestling show? Yep!  I think my first house show was in 1993? in a hockey arena in Sudbury, Ontario.  My second was in 1999 at the Skydome in Toronto.  My third was last summer at Ricoh Colliseum in Toronto, then last November I attended Takeover: Toronto and Survivor Series both at the ACC in Toronto, followed by another house show in March (Ricoh again). 13.   Have you ever been to a local wrestling company’s shows? Oddly no!  There's a promotion that sometimes did shows in my old highschool's gym but I never actually went - probably because I had nobody to go with. 14.   Do you tell others (friends, acquaintances) that you’re a wrestling fan? Why or why not? Historically it would depend on the person - there was a lot of indefensible stuff going on in the Attitude Era and I think it pretty justifiably coloured public perception of wrestling fans, so, sometimes saying it outright was bracing for an argument.  Now I've got zero shame about it - I'm a lifer, I've accepted it. 15.   Aside from wrestling, what other fandoms are you involved in? That kind of depends on your idea of “involved in,” as I tend to stay fairly quiet.  But to limit the answer to things I've actively posted about and discussed on Tumblr (within the past year or so), the brief rundown would be Star Trek (DS9), Fallout 4, the Dragon Age series, and Mass Effect. 16.   Where does wrestling rank among your other fandoms? It's currently sitting at a pretty smug #1 but these things do fluctuate. 17.   What Is your least favorite thing about wrestling? The target audience doesn't do it many favors, if you consider the target audience to have shifted during the attitude era to mean “Entitled straight white men aged 13-35.”  Them being pandered/catered to was responsible for a lot of the things I found off-putting.  To some extent, those things have gone by the wayside in WWE due to public trading/sponsorship (I'm not for a second gonna credit them with ‘shifting attitudes’).  Misogyny, objectification, racism, homophobia, ableism, etc.  In those respects it's at least less cringeworthy than it used to be, but sometimes there's backsliding...I find the jingoism in American-based pro wrestling very irritating, as well. 18.   What is the first imagine or concept that comes to mind when you think about wrestling? It's funny, but no matter how many times they've changed the colours over the years, I still picture the ring with a red top rope, a white middle rope, and a blue bottom rope. 19.   What do you wish wrestling had more of?  In other words, what is lacking from wrestling that you wish were present? Does “Thought put into it” count? lol.  Honestly most of the criticisms I'd level at wrestling would actually be directed at WWE.  One of the reasons I'm enjoying NJPW so much is it just makes so much more logical sense from a booking standpoint and there's so much less fiddling around with awkward scripted ‘sketches’ and forced drama.  WWE books like a bad reality show whose megalomaniac scripters are passed out in a table full of cocaine and money, so trains of thought don't actually reach the station. 20.   Grievances? Anything that bugs you about wrestling or the way it is presented? Commercial breaks on the WWE Network? Teasing that a certain someone was “up next” but only showing a video package?” Hahahahaha is it possible this question was inspired by Recent Disappointments?  XD Again, a lot of this would be directed at WWE.  Commercial breaks during matches, god, I can't even tell you how wrongheaded that is.  It completely takes me out of the story; I remember when it hardly ever happened, and when it did JR would apologize profusely for it, but now you've got a match with 2 or 3 commercial breaks in the middle of it, if it's something I'm only passingly interested in sometimes I've forgotten who's even in the ring by the time we get back to the action.  It's the equivalent of a drama going to commercial while somebody's in the middle of a sentence, and returning after they've finished making their point. And again, with poor damned planning and stubborn refusal to accept criticism or feedback.  Time was, if something went over like a lead balloon, it'd be reworked or tweaked or dropped altogether, but now...if it's something they want to happen badly enough they'll stick with a plan no matter how disastrously stupid or actively harmful to their own interests it is.  I'm thinking specifically of the idiocy that is having a man hold your top title who will /maybe/ show up five more times this entire year, so he can drop it to a man 80% of the audience has absolutely no interest in seeing whatsoever, in a match that will probably be terrible.   Oddly, sometimes we have the same problem in the opposite direction - being dead set on an idea while simultaneously waffling on committing to it; consider the repeated delay of Eva Marie's “debut match” which went on over a month, culminated in her being suspended offscreen, and likely her retirement from active competition.  Also the entire debacle with “Emmalina,” wherein the writers were 100% behind the idea of changing Emma's gimmick apparently without even once consulting Emma about whether she was comfortable with the new direction.  Similiarly the endless -promo videos- for the Shining Stars, and Darren Young's reboots...lengthy wait times followed by lacklustre debuts followed by essentially, no actual plan for any of them.  (and yes, there is an unspoken fear here related to Recent Disappointments, I’m sure it’s shared) 21.   And finally, anything you’d like to add to this questionnaire? *thinks a moment*  Shinsuke is the bees knees.  That's all.   22. How active are you in the online wrestling community? Not at all or do you occasionally visit wrestling forums and message boards? Do you read wrestling newsletters or listen to podcasts?Once upon a time I will admit to being a member of the “Brides of Kane,” and that's all the information you're getting on the subject lol.  I've been delighted to find an active community on tumblr, as it turns out it's more fun to watch / bitch about wresting in company.  I check the news sites daily - this is always true when I'm watching.And I occasionally give Jericho's podcast a listen, or run through some of Xavier's gaming videos.

[obsessivedilettante]

Somehow love has been so idealized as positive and healthy form of bond, that the reality which is that lot of romantic relationships are dysfunctional on one level or another is denied. In the case of Kwon Joo and Tae Gu, the romance is impossible: she will never accept him but the attraction is real on his side (the writer pushed it since ep11) and it humanizes him a little bit. So playing with this fantasy makes sense, is not harmful and wouldn't be a first in fiction...

The issue I have is that people assume because there is attraction, it must mean romantic (or sexual). Tae-gu is definitely fascinated by Kwon-joo, but it’s because he views her as an elusive prey. For someone who seems to have had a fairly easy life when it comes to killing people (I mean, when you come right down to it, his father literally buys “unwanted” people for him hunt and kill, just as though they were toys), here is one that is intelligent and fights back. In fact, I think a large part of his giddy glee when he saw her wall of evidence and red string is the discovery that she has also been hunting him. She is no normal prey.

[More after the jump! My apologies to mobile users, and if you’re coming to this on my tumblr page and not your dash, Anon, you’ll probably need to click the post to get the rest of the answer since this theme doesn’t always put a “more” link when I use it on an ask.]

But she is still just that to him – prey. I can’t agree that his attraction to her “humanizes” him because the show has taken great pains to convince us that he’s not really human. He’s been repeatedly called a monster and the devil (and, to be honest, it’s easy to believe he is just that when he has taken such joy in killing anyone that has possibly hurt him or stood in his way).

To him, Kwon-joo is not a person. She is something to be toyed with, to be teased and tormented until he finally sees fit to give the final blow.

I actually think it’s pretty interesting that the show hasn’t placed him in any romantic or sexual light*. Even though he’s a young and handsome chaebol (at least, to those who don’t know about his murderous tendencies), he’s not been shown partying around with a gaggle of women, or even just one woman. When Jin-hyuk looked into his past, there was no record of a scandal, and I presume that includes scandals with women (or men – hey, I’m not gonna judge, but I know Dramaland and its heteronormative default). I very much doubt he often brings dates home, since he seems more interested in bringing dead bodies home instead. 

That’s not to say Tae-gu has no sexual desire, but it’s notable that his idea of power and dominance is through straight-up brutality and not through sex. He’s killed women before, but from what we’ve seen, hasn’t tried to rape them. Instead, he gets his jollies from the hunt and the sensation of crushing their skulls.

Which, again, is why I give a serious, serious side-eye to those who want to ship him with Kwon-joo. She is an amazing woman who’s worked hard to get where she is, even when no one else believed her. She’s careful and smart as she figures out not only how to save those under the Golden Time (okay, maybe not that careful and smart because c’mon stop going to creepy empty hallways without back-up!), but also in accumulating information that gradually lead her to discover that Tae-gu is the killer she’s been searching for all these years. To her, Tae-gu is the monster that we all know he is. He killed her father, he’s killed so many others – he’s ruthless and shameless. He’s evil and he must be brought to justice.

So for someone to go “eeeee, I ship it!” just because both characters have an obsessive determination to hunt the other feels like it trivializes just how much Tae-gu has hurt and damaged her life. Not just that he killed her father, but thanks to the cover-up by his father and Sang-tae, he made her lose her job and respect within the community. She was treated as a laughingstock and something to be scorned. Yes, she is strong and resilient, but he ruined her life. And he plans to ruin it even more, just for kicks. He knew that his visit to her apartment would scare her, and yet he couldn’t hide his laughter. That is what makes him happy – making her fear for her life.

While I don’t know how the final two episodes will play out, at this point in the show, there’s really no way that Tae-gu can be redeemed. There’s no “oh my mother abandoned me when I was a baby boo-hoo” story that can possibly excuse his murderous behavior. At this point, the only truly “honorable” thing he could do is either confess to his crimes and spend a lifetime in prison, or fall on his sword (kettlebell?) and kill himself.

Perhaps if this writer spent more time developing the characters, there could be some hope. But as it stands right now, he has shown himself to be nothing but pure evil. There is no goodness in him. There is no saving him.

It is true, though, that relationships are inherently messy and so many of them are filled with bad decisions. Maybe I would actually like rom-coms more if they didn’t try to convince me that two diametrically opposed people would suddenly fall in love and live happily ever after, just because the writers said so. Maybe I would suffer less from second-lead syndrome if the male leads weren’t persistently written in such a way that I would instinctively label them as abusive (either emotionally or psychologically, and even sometimes physically), and wish the woman would run the hell away and never look back.

Then again, I think “love conquers all” is utter bullshit, especially with romance. I will, however, happily accept more stories of love that is familial and platonic, because, to me, those are the most endearing and sustaining. That’s why I give only a vague side-eye to those who want to ship Kwon-joo with Jin-hyuk. Part of me understands it – they’re the leads, they’re thrown together, they have to learn to trust and rely on each other. It makes sense, since most dramas would probably go there anyway. But I love that there’s been no hint of romance between them, simply because there aren’t enough platonic male-female friendships represented in media, especially in mutual work environments (where platonic friendship actually makes the most sense, since dating in the workplace is incredibly messy and often ends in disaster, although you wouldn’t know it by most of Dramaland’s offerings).

So I’m not saying “kill it with fire” to a Kwon-joo/Jin-hyuk ship because I can see how these two co-workers, thrown together in a multitude of intense situations as they pursue the same goal, could be appealing to someone. Jin-hyuk has learned to respect Kwon-joo, and is not out to sabotage her. He actually supports her and listens to her.

I am saying “kill it with fire” to a Kwon-joo/Tae-gu ship because it pits her with someone who doesn’t see her as human and only sees her as a thing to amuse him until he decides she’s no longer worth his time. It diminishes who she is as a woman or even simply as a person. He is a monster, and I’m repulsed by the unspoken implication that she could “save” him because of the attraction (or supposed “love”) he has for her. Not that’s what everyone thinks when they consider this so-called ship, but it is the standard representation when we see this kind of dynamic in fiction – the “bad boy” that the woman will save through the power of her sparkly “I’m not like the other girls” vagina. (Again, Tae-gu is not some moody, broody chaebol/cursed vampire/hurt momma’s boy. He is an unrepentant psychopath who gets joy out of tormenting the most challenging prey he’s yet encountered.)

I get it, though. I know that it’s somehow so easy to default to crackling chemistry and want to ship all the things, no matter what, no matter how terrible they are. Some of the best (worst?) ships come from this.** The attraction is there, even if it is only sadistically one-sided. And even though I don’t read fanfiction, I know there are enough of the “oh hell no” ships out there that people are gonna ship what they’re gonna ship, no matter the logistics or actual characterizations. Maybe someone’s cooking up a theory that says Tae-gu will eventually realize the error of his ways and spend the rest of his life in prison pining for the one woman who got away. Or maybe someone’s embracing the insanity and is like “this shit is fucked up but damn the sex is hawt.”

In the end, I guess I’m just too fond of Kwon-joo as a character and a woman, and everything she represents in terms of her intelligence and desire to help people even as she longs for justice in her own life, to see her linked romantically to a murdering psychopath – no matter how gorgeous his cheekbones are.

*of course, as we all well know, Kim Jae Wook is hella sexy and I’m not gonna deny I’d probably do some terrible things for a few minutes in heaven with him, but that’s the actor, not the character.

**for example, even though I know, instinctively, that these two are terrible for each other and will forever end in tears, you can tear the LoVe*** from my cold dead hands. They are Epic and will always be Epic.

***Logan/Veronica from Veronica Mars, who I immediately started shipping**** from the first “Annoy, tiny blonde one, annoy like the wind” and still get a little tingly from that first kiss as the camera cranes outward and “Momentary Thing” plays.

****and I suppose someone could argue that “well you ship [problematic thing] so stop being a cry-baby about other people shipping [problematic thing], and besides, it’s just fiction*****, so who cares what other people do with fictional characters?” To which I say “dude this is tumblr I will overthink whatever the hell I want and also women should not be shipped with brutal psychopaths who only see them as a means for their sadistic pleasure, especially when those psychopaths have totally and unrepentantly ruined those women’s lives and will kill them after they’ve had their fun.”******

*****yeah, it’s just fiction, but stories matter and if I can smash one patriarchal belief that a woman can save a broken and screwed up guy just because he lurves her then I think I will have fulfilled a purpose that I didn’t know I had but I will gladly accept.

******is2fg no one tell me there’s a fanfic out there where Tae-gu is revealed to be a necrophiliac bc there’s not enough brain bleach out there to unsee that image even though it would probably make total sense, dammit.