#something that seems more trivial and dumb than it actually is. sorry that sometimes people have weird triggers.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

maybe i'll overcome my debilitating fear of grass one of these days.

[atinybitofau]

M I N G I ➟ mafia au

MAFIA HUBBY MINGI 2.0

part one

• “Who’s that?”

• San works for almost anybody.

• that being said, trains Mingi’s men when needed to.

• so when he decides to show up during a car show rehearsal organized by Mingi himself isn’t surprising at all.

• loves to roam around for shits and giggles too.

• but seeing a woman briefing experienced mechanics at their car hoods seemed more than just shits and giggles to even the likes of him.

• Wooyoung wipes at his greasy hands and smiles at the floating hitman. “Mingi’s girl.”

• “Mingi’s girl?” San whips towards him in question.

• “Haven’t you heard about X?”

• “That racer guy that shredded him months ago?” San chuckles at the memory of rumors. “Who hasn’t?”

• “Well THAT racer guy happens to be a girl. And sex on legs over there happens to also be Mingi’s new wife. Her first appearance out of the dark doesn’t just surprise you, you know. Everyone here can’t take her eyes off her.”

• and neither can Mingi apparently,

• now approaching you

• who just like you, stands out from the bustling gang crowd,

• custom leather trench coat and fancy ring on his finger to add to the awe.

• the people in the room gawk as their boss and leader wraps an arm around you,

• shocked more or less that a man of his demeanor could get shieldless like that.

• “Hey, baby.” you keen at the sound of his voice, turning your head to kiss him back on his lips. “Thank you for coming today.”

• you fit under his arm like he promised.

• where you belong at most.

• “You know I don’t mind.” you hand a wrench to one of his men you helped in front of you. “But I can’t say the same about the stares I’ve gotten since I walked in here.”

• Mingi’s peeved when he hears your displeasure.

• only wants the best for you.

• would give you everything you’d dream of.

• just for his queen.

• he turns his head in the space over yours to say something into your ear so only you can hear. “Do you want me to do something about it?”

• “No.” you place your hand against your husband’s chest, the once greed for the limelight gone once his attention was all you craved for. “Mr. Song, you have plenty of things on your to do list to do rather than what I’d like for you. I’ll be fine.”

• he growls, eyes glaring like a dog at the men who stared behind the both of you. “Mrs. Song, you know I’ll do anything to make you the happiest woman alive. If you’d just tell me what that is, perhaps you would be happy.”

• you turn up and lay a kiss against his stubble jaw before reassuring, “I am happy, Mingi. I already am.”

• but he thinks he isn’t enough for you sometimes.

• still hates himself for relying on an ally— Seonghwa to watch over you while you finish your studies.

• to his discontent always.

• trying to convince you that you could stop studying all together.

• but you aren’t greedy anymore.

• you have what you need.

• him.

• what fame, fortune, and class could never buy.

• “Mingi-ya.”

• you two are interrupted by some familiar faces. “Now I think you’ve forgotten to enlighten me with your current affairs. Who’s this little gem you’ve managed to snag for yourself here?”

• Mingi protectively towers you,

• body close to consuming yours as the men smile in your direction.

• “Choi San.” your husband forces an airy chuckle. “What a pleasant surprise.”

• “Not as pleasant as yours I see. And what’s your name, gorgeous?”

• you look up at Mingi.

• knowing better than to play with his temper.

• especially in the eyes of other men.

• “Go on, baby.” he whispers lightly by your ear. “Introduce yourself.”

• “Y/n.”

• the cunning man keens. “Ah. The scientist from south side. Seonghwa has spoken of you as well I think. Though Mingi’s affairs were never boastful enough to strike an interest, those rings tell another story.”

• “Ha ha. Enough patronizing, San.” Mingi rolls his eyes at his playful friend. “This is my wife you’re speaking about me to.”

• “It’s nice to know Mingi’s settled down.” San admits genuinely. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask us.”

• the one beside him, as you came to as know Wooyoung—

• Mingi’s best driver that you’ve met countless times,

• keens at you too.

• “A race here and there won’t hurt anyone either. We’ll leave you two to it. See you lovebirds later!”

• you feel glad.

• knowing Mingi was surrounded by good people despite his.. situation.

• and how yours had turned for the better upon falling in love with him yourself.

• you can’t imagine what your life would be without this man.

• and his eyes tell you the same.

• “I’m sorry for them..” Mingi walks you away and towards nothing in particular. “They’ve known me for so long and like to embarrass me here and there.”

• you giggle at the flustered state you only manage to get him in, shocked others were able to as well.

• “Your friends are kind.” you kiss him again, never being able to reach his lips if he weren’t offering them to you. “And I’m grateful for you and them. Even if they like to tease you.”

• he brings your face in his large hands and kisses you tenderly.

• “I promised you the throne and you always show less of a role than me. You used to want it.” he mumbles with a sigh. “Am I not worth as much anymore?”

• Mingi was everything he needed to be.

• ruthless, sinful, and fatal.

• but in the times he’s reminded that you were his everything?

• he’s everything he wants to be.

• “I’ll stand beside you as your woman, my love.” you revel in his attention, only liking the lime light when it reminds everyone of who he belongs to. “But your role can never be shared. Not a competition to me.”

• he sighs in relief against you.

• peppering you in endless kisses.

• reminding you too of who you belong to.

• “You won my heart, y/n. What more of a race than that?”

• he leaves again.

• because he has to do his own bidding as the mafia king.

• but you’re just a college student that won his competitions as a masked street racer.

• now you’re back to reality— college. waiting till the clock strikes so you’d be back in his arms again.

• you miss the attention you get from your husband dearly.

• hoping for too much after a not-so exciting fight from the both of you a couple days prior.

• his extravagant entails to keep you safe sometimes getting the better of him.

• but you’re surprised when you see San and Seonghwa standing by the rails of the stairs,

• looking disheveled than ever.

• “As much as I love you guys picking me up from school in place of Mingi, I’d much more love to see my husband trying to make up for his own fights.” you glare into their worry. “.. Is he alright?”

• “Try not to make a scene..”

• “As long as he’s not dead, sure.”

• Seonghwa glances to his satan clone, “I wouldn’t say dead..”

• you take the wheel after Seonghwa informs you,

• that your husband recklessly put himself in a line of fire,

• distracted at most by his roaming thoughts.

• how his head hadn’t been screwed on straight for the past nights after your fight.

• you’re racing against everything,

• a long time since you’ve been behind the wheel like this.

• the two in the back in awe by your abilities.

• but you’re more stern on seeing your god forsaken husband.

• not willing to spare him even if things aren’t good between the both of you.

• “Baby?”

• you sigh in relief when you see Mingi staring out the bedroom windows eyebrows furrowed,

• face tethered and bandaged and wounds fresh still.

• he doesn’t answer you when you walk over to meet his glare, sitting beside him on the edge of your shared bed.

• “Baby, look at me.”

• “I don’t see why you’re here.” he coldly snaps his hand away from you, showing his true colors in light of his situation. “Only pitying me when I’m sick.”

• you roll your eyes. “Don’t act like a child, Mingi.”

• his jaw clenches as you scold him for his attitude. “I don’t know what Seonghwa told you but this has nothing to do with you.”

• “Sure.” you lean your hand on his bed, eyebrow cocked up. “Because you always put yourself in a fire fight after I tell you never to.”

• he growls at you. “You do things I tell you not to too! Don’t spin this on me.”

• “Mingi, you sound ridiculous.” you sigh sitting yourself in between his legs, hands upon his jaw. “Stop being so temperamental. I only asked you to lay off the eyes while I attend Hyemi’s bachelorette party next weekend and you’re going out on a whim trying to make a point.”

• yes.

• that’s how trivial the issue was.

• “And I told you already that you going to that bachelorette party is my eyes or nothing at all. What more now that every single enemy I have knows what you look like? Not to mention the disgusting men that’d be present trying to yearn at the likes of you.”

• “You’re worrying for nothing, Mingi. I can take care of myself.”

• “Out of the question.” he snarls at you. “With me as your husband, you don’t need to take care of yourself. That’s my job.”

• you roll your eyes and chuckle. “Fine. If it means keeping you from doing stupid irrational things, you may do as you please.”

• of course it bothers you.

• how possessive your husband gets.

• but he is your husband.

• you also can’t blame him.

• “And in return, don’t ever go into dumb firefights with your men if you aren’t needed. You know better.”

• you ground him as his hands longingly reaches for you, forehead against yours. “I’m sorry..”

• Seonghwa and San watches from the doorway,

• how the younger melts in your hands.

• how well you’d actually be taking the throne beside Mingi—

• maybe doing his job better than he could.

• but Mingi’s boss for a reason.

• and your his for one too.

• “I love you.” you mumble against him. “Just to remind you, you won my heart ages ago. And not a single thing would make me lose to you. Not one.”

@atinybitofau

[awesomerextyphoon]

Charred Briar Roses - 3

Curse’s Broken, Now What?

Summary: The title speaks for itself. 

Parings: Orc!Bucky x Black!Reader, Orc!Steve x Black!OFC, Orc!Sam x Black!OFC

Word Count: 4,136

Warnings: Implied Smut and Some Violence

A/N: This was longer than I anticipated. Also, the princesses would be a US size 14/15. I totally forgot to mention that earlier. Sorry about that. Enjoy!

Back to Masterlist

Instead of spending 600 years in total darkness, you communicated with your sisters in a pretty well constructed dream version of the palace. You thought of new inventions and fighting moves, reconciled with Ghada about your fight the day of the curse, and kept analyzing what happened in the north west tower.

If felt like you were in the dream world for about a month.

You were talking with your sisters about trivial childhood memories when all of you felt arms around your bodies. Your surroundings started to fade and so did your sisters.

You felt chapped yet soft lips kiss your neck and lips. It was surprisingly nice, like a dream.

You opened your eyes and realized three things: Someone was actually kissing you, you weren’t in the tower, and the person kissing you wasn’t the prince that your mother had all but assured you but an admittedly hot (albeit ruggedly, your core notes) orc-human hybrid.

You and your sisters screamed.

You immediately try to push him away but he wouldn’t budge. That scared you because both you and your sisters could bench about five tons thanks to Doireann, the war fairy who blessed and trained you in combat since the age of three.

You punched him with a right jab once he broke for air. Couldn’t even get him off the bed.

He chuckled and rubbed his strong jaw and said what seemed to be a compliment in Orcish as you nursed your knuckles.

“I said that you’re quite feisty for a human princess.” He repeated in Common Tongue.

You saw that your sisters had similar reactions to their kissers. Fumnanya even threw a shoe at the one that would be later called Sam. The others got a laugh out of it.

After everyone settled down, we shared our names while you were trying not jump Bucky, the warrior who kissed you.

“So, I was wondering, do you know what year it is?” Fumnanya inquired in a mousy tone that she uses with strangers.

Steve was it, yeah Steve rubbed the back of his head, “How to put this. You’ve been asleep for 600 years. Just about everyone thinks you’re a myth. Hell, we wouldn’t have believed it if we weren’t right in front of you.”

He then provided updates on what happed after your birthdays, but you were only half listening. Your dumb fight with Ghada and your damn curiosity cost you and your sisters your friends, family, and life.

You wanted to cry, but Ghada motioned you to join her and Fumnanya in a huddle. You spoke in Nephrashim as to not alert the warriors.

The three of you knew that Sophronius was up to no good and it was odd that he was still alive since the average lifespan was 300 years due to the Nephrashim Crystal.

“We need to convince them to take us outside of the city since I’m guessing the spell Etna put on us to keep Y/N from skipping class is still in place.”

You rolled your eyes at Ghada snide comment.

“We take what need in whatever storage device Y/N has in her ‘secret workshop’!” Fumnanya chimed in.

“Hey-“

“We all knew where it is, sis. You’re not fooling anyone.” Ghada deadpanned while you huffed in frustration.

With that, the three of you rejoined the group and offered to show them around after you changed your clothes.

–––––––––––––––––––––

The warrior trio was waiting outside the room for 20 minutes when you and sisters finally emerged from behind the doors. The three of you wore much more comfortable clothing than the extravagant kaftans you wore in your sleep. The clothes also showcased more of your curves and sleek muscles they noted.

“What would you like to do first?” You asked. No sooner had you finished the question that the warrior trio’s stomachs growled like a lion’s roar.

Ghada giggled and together, you led the trio to the main banquet hall.

You and your sisters had a hunch that the food from your 18th birthday celebration was still good. Your hunch was right.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––

The hall was filled with food for 900 people. The tables were packed with: huge slabs of Gararagator Steak, roast beef and pork, fried chicken, smoked turkey, grilled and baked fish in sweet brown sauces, curries, pastas, thick stews, enticing side dishes, rich pastries/desserts, and caskets of mead and wine.

The warriors were drooling at the sight and aromas of the feast. So, when Ghada casually said to dig in, they devoured ALL of the food in record time.

You and your sisters managed to get some of the food before it was gone. None of you would admit it, but the three of you were turned on by the ferocity at which they ate and drank.

Once they finished the food and drink, the warrior trio leaned back in their chairs and sighed while they rubbed and patted their bellies followed by a couple of loud, brassy burps and belches.

Fumnanya asked them some trivial questions about life since the curse was activated which they answered in kind, but they got tense when she asked about their mothers.

Ghada, ever the politician, quickly changed the subject by asking if they would like a bath and one of the guest rooms to sleep in for the night.

Bucky was about to respond when you suddenly challenged him to a duel.

A couple of things happened: Fumnanya put her head in her hands, Ghada groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, Sam and Steve burst into laughter, and Bucky accepted with a chuckle.

You led the group to the sparring grounds on the western end of the palace grounds.

Ghada set the ground rules: each combatant may choose a weapon from the low-level, non-lethal weapons closet and the fight could last no longer than 30 minutes.

You both chose Bo Staffs and bowed to start the spar. It took a few minutes of sizing each other up before making the first move. The duel consisted a flurry of punches, kicks, precision strikes with your Bo Staffs, and near hits/misses.

It ended when Bucky spotted a weakness in your left mid-section and landed a hit right above left hip causing you to fall. He then pinned you down before you could grab your weapon with his face two inches above yours.

The two of you were so engrossed in your own little world that Steve had to clear his throat a few times to get your attention.

–––––––––––––––––––

Sensing the, ahem, tension in the area, Ghada suggested that you all finally head over to the baths.

Except for you and Bucky, you took him to your ‘secret workshop’. Something about the way he examined some of the weapons fascinated you and you wanted to explore that.

Bucky was quite dazzled by your variety of inventions like your solar battery, your new hover bike engine, and your 5th attempt at your waning swan (a cross between a scythe and a machine gun). He was examining a pair of your laser blasting gauntlets when you asked if he’d seen some of them before.

“Is there something you like?” you asked while he picked up an old prototype for a flash grenade.

Bucky chuckled, “It’s just that I’ve never seen so many inventions in one place before. When I was an orcling, there was these traveling ‘magician’ who performed feats of wonder for the kids in the village near our settlement. In reality, he was a con artist, but we didn’t care. He would always make our lives seem a little bit brighter. One day, the three of us went behind his tent and found all these contraptions in boxes or on the ground. Tuns out, they were relics of the long gone Nephrashim people. Well, maybe not so long gone now.”

He chuckled to himself again almost bitterly. “I was always entranced by what he would show us and, when he finally fessed up to using relics instead of magic, the contraptions he would use to perform such acts. Sometimes I would wonder what it would’ve been like to live a different life; one where I could’ve been a tinkerer instead of a warrior. Don’t get me wrong, I like being one. It’s just that-”

“You wished you had more options.” You finished noticing how delicately he was holding one of your mithril tools. He held it in a deftness that most of the artisans you’ve met couldn’t match.

His confession of sorts gave you pause.

You always hated how almost everyone gave your sisters praise for their interests and demeanor while you were usually belittled when your parents and Fae tutors weren’t around. They always complained about you not being as sociable as Ghada or as ‘sweet’ (quiet, but not really) as Fumnanya. You were always seen as causing trouble, but you just saw the world differently.

Some days you actually hated being a princess and wished you had a different lot in life.

Maybe this warrior understood you.

Taking another look at him, you realize that underneath this ruggedly delicious beef cake was someone who might’ve been something else altogether. Sure, he seemed proud of his accomplishments when you both were in the dining hall, but part of you wondered what could’ve been his path if he had someone who would’ve taken the time and maybe given him an apprenticeship or something.

You bit your lower lip as you mustered up the strength to ask, “I was wondering, I think I have something I was working on before the curse was cast. Would you like to help with it? I mean, you don’t have to-”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The two of you spent the next two hours working on a few prototypes. Bucky asked you questions about engineering and mechanics especially and you were more than happy to answer. It was nice to have someone outside your sisters, parents, and Fae tutors actually give a crap about what you liked. Neither you nor Bucky realized the distance shrinking in between the two of you until all you could think about was how inviting his lips and neck looked.

Unfortunately, your slowly intimate moment was dashed when Ghada interrupted them via communication mirror telling them to take a bath and go to bed already.

With an annoyed tsk, you took off your work apron, your goggles, and your gloves and motioned Bucky to do the same.

You led him to the baths, a wide yet indoor place with vast pools, man-made hot springs, and an indoor waterfall.

Looking at Bucky your feelings of embarrassment and shame arose once again. Did your ancestors really had to be this obnoxious in flaunting their wealth?

You offered to assist Bucky in washing his hair, but really you wanted to run your hands over his exposed skin.

With his nod of acceptance, you took him to changing rooms and you changed into a Soft Wrap Halter Bikini Top and Rene Fold Bikini Bottom in pale gold, the one that caused a prominent lord to walk into a compost cart due to how well it showcased your curves. Hopefully, it would work on Bucky.

You felt bad using your looks to get Bucky to make a move, but you were so sure that it would be a disaster if you moved first.

The slight shame you felt with your bathing suit quickly faded when you saw Bucky emerge from his changing room.

You cursed yourself because he was only in a loincloth, and DAMN he looked fine! Part of his long hair was pulled back in a high man bun, his shin was a beautiful smooth muted yellow-green with aqua undertones, he was powerfully built with massive shoulders (you thought the lightweight armor did most of the heavy lifting), chiseled pecs, abs, and thighs that you could’ve sworn the finest of Fae craftsmen had a hand in creating all wrapped in someone that actually engaged you both intellectually and emotionally.

You know your mother said that you and your sisters would most likely married princes, but you were glad that she wasn’t here to see you shamelessly lust over an orc. You still missed her, but both she and half of your tutors would have a conniption if they saw what you were doing right now.

It would seem that Bucky was sizing you up as well judging by the way his eyes were beginning to blow out with lust.

He must have pushed his naughty thoughts aside. “Are you still gonna wash my hair?” he queried with a smirk that showed off his tusks. They would’ve been intimidating, but now they look endearing and sexy.

You let out an uncharacteristic giggle and told him to wait right there while you went to the closet where the servants kept the washing items and got him silver spruce, lemongrass, rosemary, and orange scented shampoos and oils.

You returned to find Bucky trying and failing to put a towel tower that one of maids used to construct. Stifling a laugh, you took his hand and guided him to one of the hot springs.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Bucky groaned upon sinking into the refreshing warm spring, glad to not have to was in a stream or river for a change (the tubs back home were nice, but they’re nothing compared to this). The water eased his tense muscles and joints in all the right places. Plus it didn’t hurt that the spring was deep enough for him to completely submerge himself which, at 8’ 3”, is no easy feat.

The engineering princess was getting ready to wash his hair like she offered and Bucky couldn’t wait. She had to know what she was doing to him. Lesser men would’ve jumped her on sight, but not him. His stepmother and sisters made sure of that.

She poured some of the argan and peppermint shampoos into a bowl and grabbed a towel to rest her shins.

“Lay your head on top of this bowl while I wash your head. Okay?”

Bucky did as directed and she started to work her magic on him. She started slow,  working front to back, appreciating the way she gently massaged his scalp. At times he would let out low groans of pleasure at her ministrations, craving more from her.

Once she was done with the shampoo, she carefully lifted his head, emptied and refilled the water basin, and steadily poured the warm water over his head while trying not to get water up his nose.

Bucky turned around to see her beaming at her work. He smiled coyly at her pride, “Aren’t you coming?”, while motioning his right hand in a ‘come hither’ gesture.

She shook her head while biting her lower lip, probably not wanting to hair wet or some other prissy princess thing that was engrained into her.

Bucky decided to help ‘break’ her of that mindset by quickly grabbing her arm and gently tossed her into the spring in front of him. She jumped out of the water with a gasp and playfully punched his left shoulder.

“What was that for?!”

“You were too prideful and uptight!” Bucky chortled while she looked away failing to hide her embarrassment. He stopped laughing when he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

He then reached out and softly lifted her head with his fore and middle fingers. She looked a bit anxious when he closed the distance between them.

“May I?” he pleaded, desperate for her to say yes.

“Please,” she whispered.

That was all Bucky needed to hear.

He started slow as to make up for this afternoon, but he almost lost it when she grasped his hair and licked his canines/tusks. He growled as her petite tongue entered his near monstrous mouth, her light moans and whimpers goading something that Bucky thought he would never feel: love, lust, and passion.

Ever since he and his best friends achieved their goal, Bucky felt like he was missing something. None of the women in their community really excited him or really engaged him beyond his physical needs. Sure, there were plenty orc, human, and even elf females who would warm his bed, but none of them cared to stay and listen…except for you, the woman who was now struggling to take off her bikini top after talking machines and engineering with him without getting annoyed by his antics.

You were so eager — and so was he — but he didn’t want to have sex and then have you disappear on him like the others, not when he was finally making a connection. No, he would make this last a little longer, even if this meant disappointing you.

“We should go sleep.” He mumbled as his hand halted your efforts.

——————

With a heavy sigh, you relented, got dressed, and waited for him to get his things. Your eyes were downcast as you escorted him to the chambers he would be sharing with his kin.

Bucky tried to give you a goodnight kiss, but you rebuffed him with a curt “good night” and returned to you and your sister’s shared room.

You were greeted to Fumnanya gushing about Sam and his interest in the library. Part of you was happy for her. Fumnanya rarely got out of her shell and getting with a guy that was even remotely interested in books as much as she was exceedingly rare.

You wanted to say that you were excited for her, you really did, but you were still a little sullen and bitter about what happed with Bucky at the baths.

“So, you and Bucky sure took your time.” Ghada remarked as you were putting on your night clothes (a short tunic and mid-calf pants).

“You’re one to talk! Sam and I caught you and Steve making out in the changing rooms at the baths!” Fumnanya snapped. Great, even Ghada was getting more in the romance department than you were.

You gave Fumnanya a grateful smile while you settled into bed hoping that tomorrow would bring better fortunes.

——————-

You awoke with a slight start and a knock at the door. Grabbing your robe, you raced towards the door thinking it was Bucky only to find a letter floating in a glowing rosy pink sphere. As soon as you reached out to touch the sphere, it disappeared leaving the letter to slowly descend into your hands.

By this time, your sisters joined you in reading the letter. It was written by one of your favorite tutors, Aoife.

It read:

Dearest children,

If you are reading this, then this means that I am either dead or completely unable to reach you. I hope you weren’t asleep for too long, but something tells me you have. For that, I am sorry.

I wish I could be there to hug you and your matches, but I’m guessing you know of your uncle by now. He has been after you for years now. My wards were successful in keeping him at bay, but now, I’m afraid you’re on your own.

The mist surrounding the capital will fade in three days time. By then, you will need to go into hiding in order to not fall into Sophronius’ clutches.

Have faith, be brave, trust in yourselves, and be kind my dears. Also, trust in your matches, okay?

Warm Regards,

Aoife

Aoife was one of the few people who actually liked all three of you the way you were. Finding out that she could be dead was the straw that broke the camel’s back for the three of you.

When the orc hybrid trio found you, you were huddled on Ghada’s bed with the letter on the floor in front of you.

Steve gently coaxed the three of you out of your beds with the suggestion of showing them around the capital. It didn’t get you or your sisters completely happy, but it was a start.

The tour consisted of you and Ghada butting heads over where to take the guys (the theatre district is NOT better than the artisan market), Fumnanya pointing out prominent buildings and statues.

You could’ve sworn that the guys sneered at one of the monuments to one of your ancestors, but you let it slide.

But then, Bucky made an offhand comment about what was must have went into making this place and the sacrifices that was probably made.

You have thought about what must’ve went into making the capital, but never in a negative light. No one in the capital or in the surrounding cities, towns or villages were poor on dire straits. You made sure to get the truth through your little excursions out of the palace before Etna cast that infernal spell on you.

The thought was pushed aside when you and your sisters returned to your room that night. You needed to think of a plan and quickly because Aoife’s spell was going to fade in two days and Sophronius was hot on your tails.

“Perhaps the guys would let us stay with their community for a while.” Ghada put forth as you were getting ready for bed.

“That’s a possibility, but what do we have to offer? I doubt that a semi-nomadic community of mostly orcs would take on three enhanced human princesses for free” Ghada countered as she put on her nightgown.

“Are you serious?!” you exclaimed. “We have tons to offer! Look, Fumnanya is a great medic, you’re awesome diplomat and negotiator, and I’m good with machinery. Plus we can cook and take care of ourselves, so I doubt we would be a huge burden.”

“Also, we can give them some of the treasure that’s laying around the palace for them to use.” Fumnanya chirped.

“Exactly. We’ve got this!” You declared not realizing that the guys were having a similar conversation.

——————

“So, what should we do about the girls? I mean, they’re great and all, but can we bring them back with us?” Sam inquired as stripped down to his loincloth.

“I don’t see why not. They’ve actually got skills the group could use, unlike a lot of the females that first become part of our tribe.” Steve stated as he gnawed on the turkey leg from dinner.

“Maybe we could bring the tribe here! The city is completely deserted except for the girls and they certainly won’t mind us living here.” Sam offered.

“I don’t think that would be the wisest course of action. Like the girls said, the spell that keeps the mist in place will fade in two days. It won’t be long before Sophronius’ horde will crawling all over the place.” Bucky voiced thinking about last night’s interaction.

“Alright, we’ll see what the girls think tomorrow and go from there.” Steve concluded and the three went to sleep.

———————

Both parties began packing for their journey the next day once the guys agreed to take the three of you back with them.

You gave everyone three travel sized storage units. Ghada packed all of her notes on trade, language books, and art supplies. Fumnanya packed all of the medical supplies she could fit into her storage unit, her language, history, science, and geography books. You packed most of your tools, a couple of your inventions (including waning swan), and any materials you might need.

All three of you made sure to pack clothes, cooking supplies (especially spices since the guys were surprised at the variety), personal hygiene supplies, and some of the treasure/objects that would most likely fetch a good price without leading anyone back to them.

The time to leave came soon enough.

“You three ready?” Sam asked as you were making the final adjustments to your traveling clothes.

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Fumnanya replied as she gave Sam a hug. It surprised you how quickly she warmed up to him.

“Perhaps you should give Bucky another chance.” Ghada advised.

Maybe, but not now.

You made your way to the courtyard taking in everything. The dire wolves nuzzled your cheeks as you made your way to mount them.

Steve gave both Sam and Bucky a nod and you began your journey out of the only home you three knew.

Perhaps this new chapter will be a good one.

—————

If you had looked up at the third tree closest to the thorn bushes, you would’ve seen a solitary raven, a raven with four red eyes. The raven was a scout for Sophronius and it was recording you.

Video of your departure was being transmitted to a crystal ball in the throne room of Sophronius’ main headquarters.

“It seems the bitch Aoife was able to keep them young after all.” Sophronius remarked, taking in the princesses’ features.

“Alert the princes. We have work to do.”

Taglist:

@giorno-plays-piano​ @lookiamtrying​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @zoiecakes​ @mcudarklibrary​ @letsby @macheregrace​ @imdarkinme​ @retroxvailles​ @marvelfansworld​ @anyatheladyclown​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @hurricanerin​ @pseudonymphet​ @dahkness​ @buckysbunny​ @rosalynshields​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @sapphirescrolls​ @golden-ariess​ @cherienymphe​

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Wonderland by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Or on FF

Tagging:  @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook @itsfabianadocarmo

Chapter 7: Trust

“How do you think you’re doing so far? A few more days and you will have completed your first two weeks.”

“I guess it’s going well. I’m not really sure how else it could go.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Killian. It’s not easy facing truth’s we aren’t ready to see. And you’ve been handling that well.”

Killian wasn’t sure he agreed with the good Doc. The only thing he had faced was admitting out loud that the accident was his fault. Perhaps he was a bit surprised that he had told Emma. He didn’t expect to do that. Honestly, he had followed the girl out to apologize for being so harsh in group, only to end up telling her about the accident. He didn’t know what it was about Emma, but the woman had him a bit off his game.

“So, today let’s talk about what happened after the accident. More specifically the loss of your hand, how did you handle the news?”

He straightened in his chair, rubbing his palm on his knee. “Like anyone who is just told that their entire life had changed.” He sat back in his seat and shrugged his shoulders. “Really badly.”

“When did you find out?”

“I woke up in the hospital sometime after the accident, my brother Liam was there. I could tell something was wrong. He told me about my hand first. I guess I was in shock. I didn’t react at all honestly. It was like being numb. I don’t have any other way of explaining it. I’m a musician and suddenly that’s all gone.”

“You play guitar?”

“Played. I dunno what I’ll do now. Honestly, I haven’t even thought about it. It seems so trivial considering everything else I lost.”

“I wouldn’t say trivial, Killian. It’s your life. Your livelihood.”

“Rob always tells me I have my good looks and acting to fall back on, but honestly I did all that because I could. Music was my passion; it was something I did because I wanted to.”

“And that is something that the accident took away from you.”

Killian shuddered with guilt to even feel anger about the loss of a career. “None of that mattered after he told me about Milah and the baby.”

“And how did you handle that?”

“I lost my mind. Ripped my IV out, Liam had to bring in security to restrain me. When I finally calmed down, he asked if I had been drinking that night. The look on his face showed so much disappointment.  I got angry, kicked him out of my room. Refused to speak to him for days.”

“Why do you think you reacted that way?”

“My whole life I’ve been living in Liam’s shadow. He was always the golden boy. Dad used to tell me that if the Jones brothers were to make anything of their lives, I just needed to watch my brother. He was the best of us.”

“What does Liam do for a living?”

“He’s a hero.”

“In your mind, I’m sure.”

“No like an actual damn hero. While I was making music on a stupid guitar, he was off fighting in a war.”

“Do you feel like your success was not earned because it wasn’t won the same way as Liam’s?”

“It wasn’t honorable like his. I sing stupid lyrics about dumb shit that doesn’t matter to anyone but me.” He stood up and started pacing the back of the room. “The night we got our record deal, his convoy got ambushed. I got the call that night that that his platoon had gone missing, presumed dead or captured. Days went by before we heard anything. A week later he came home a goddamn hero. Walked his whole platoon out of danger, fought off an attack, and won a fucking Gold Star. I got a record contract. A fucking record contract and he saved ten people. There was no living up to that.”

“Your success shouldn’t be compared to your brother’s sacrifices. It is admirable what he did but that doesn’t mean that everything you have earned means anything less.”

He paused, considering his words but knowing that nothing he would ever do could possibly match the honor of his brother.

“Have you thought about inviting him for family day coming up?”

“I’m not certain he would come even if I did.”

Killian continued to pace behind the couch. He spent the rest of his session thinking about his brother and the disappointment he had caused in the past year. The last time he had spoken to him still haunted his dreams.

“Killian you need help.”

“Fuck off, I’m fine.”

“How much coke is up your nose right now?”

“Enough that you are killing my buzz!”

“This isn’t you. The girls, the drugs, I don’t even know you anymore. You and Milah were…”

“Don’t, don’t talk about her. You don’t know anything about her. You don’t get to say her name.”

“Killian.”

“Get out, Liam. I never want to see you again.”

When he emerged from the office, he was surprised to see Ruby waiting around outside the door.

“Hello lass, are you next?”

“No, I just wanted to check on you.”

Killian had been impressed at how nice the girl had been to him since the incident on the beach where he was unable to perform a simple act of intimacy. He smiled at the girl. “No need, love. I’m fine, barely a scratch.” He joked.

He stilled when he saw the blonde he had been avoiding approaching them from the other side of the courtyard.

“Hey.”

“Hey Emma, meeting with Hop?” Ruby asked her roommate.

“Um yeah, guess it’s my turn to get my head shrunk.”

She made eye contact with him and he quickly looked away. He hadn’t spoken to the girl since she banished him from her sight after their last group session. That didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about her since then. He cursed the fact that it had been more than once.

“If you don’t mind Ruby, I am going to take a run.” He excused himself and left the ladies staring as he walked away.

~*~

“You scared him off.” Ruby complained as soon as he ran off.

“What did I do?”

“You’re always so mean to him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Geez Rubes, I get it you’re fucking him but I’m not going to be lectured about being nice to someone that has made my life hell since I got here.”

She flinched and then narrowed her eyes. “You give as good as you get. Hell, I’m surprised the two of you haven’t fucked with the way you go at each other.”

“Not if he was the last man on this island.” She stated louder than she had intended.

“Trying to convince me or yourself?” She pursed her lips and walked away.

“Whatever.” She pushed through the door and into the office.

“Good afternoon, Emma.”

“I guess.” She said sourly.

“So, last group session we spoke a lot about Neal? You’ve implied that your parents liked him.”

“Of course, everyone likes Neal. My parents think he’s the best thing for me.”

“And what do you think?”

“No one cares what I want, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“That’s what happens when two lines show up on the fucking test, Neal.”

“How the hell did this happen?”

“It’s called sex, you asshole.”

“And you’re sure it’s mine?”

“What the hell, Neal.”

“Ok, sorry, what are you going to do now?”

“What am I going to do? Like this is all on me?”

“Emma, I’m just saying, we can’t have a damn baby.”

Later that evening as Emma’s legs worked the exercise bike in the lonely gym, she tried not to think about the child she gave away. She had seen his dark head of hair, ten fingers and ten toes, and she knew that if she even held him for ten seconds, she would have never let him go. So instead, she refused to hold him, only telling them his name as they took him from the room.

Henry.

She wondered where he was, what family had accepted him as their own. If he was being loved and taken care of.

She pushed herself faster, sweat pouring off her brow as she cycled harder and faster than she could even maintain. She screamed as loud as she could, pressing her feet against the pedals.

“I think you bested the mechanical beast.”

She jumped at the sound of another voice in the darkened silence of the gym.

“Can you not sneak up on me, for the last time?”

“Sorry, love. It was not my intention to sneak up on anyone. Apparently, you and I had the same idea for blowing off steam tonight. I can leave if you would prefer.”

She blew out a loud puff of air. “No, it’s not my gym, if you want to be here, I’m not going to stop you.”

He climbed onto the bike next to her and she noticed they each seemed to be matching the pace of the other, when she sped up, so did he. It was like a competition that neither would admit to entering.

The sweat was starting to drip down her back, her hair caked to her forehead. She chanced a glance in his direction and saw beads of sweat glistening on his skin. She wished to hell that didn’t make him more attractive than he already was. She silently wondered what it would feel like to run her hands across his wet flesh, immediately squeezing her thighs together as she worked the bike, the heat between her legs intensifying the more she glanced in his direction.

Suddenly his pace slowed beside her, and she breathed a sigh of relief, an unspoken win she would claim.

“You win.” He chuckled, with his hands in the air as he slowed his legs on the bike.

“Wasn’t aware we were in a race.” She tried acting as disinterested as she could.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

She glared in his direction. “Really, what gave you that clue?”

“Are you always this difficult or is it just for my benefit?”

She slowed down her speed and turned to look at him. “What do you want from me? Because I’m just trying to get through this fucking bullshit without losing my mind.”

“May I offer a suggestion?”

“From you?”

“Try something new darling, it’s called trust.”

“I don’t trust anyone but myself.”

“Come with me.” He climbed off his bike and gestured for her to follow him.

“What are you playing at?”

“No games, love.” He stared at her, his blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight coming through the large glass windows.

“Fine.” She groaned and followed him throughout the complex, leaving the lights of the buildings behind as her eyes saw the water come into view.

They walked without speaking for ten minutes, before he stopped and bent down to remove his shoes. “Come on, love, the sand begs to be felt, not trampled on.”

She stood defiantly watching him set his shoes to the side, pulling his socks off and standing before her, barefoot in his sweatpants. She held her breath before bending down and removing her shoes and socks and setting them next to his.

“Now what?” she said dryly.

“Let’s walk.”

She followed him reluctantly, the sand cold and coarse between her toes. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, with each footstep she felt her burden of the last few days become lighter.

“When things get to be too much, I find that the water, she calms me.”

Emma looked over at him, his hair blowing in the breeze, she noticed that his expression was lighter and calmer than she had ever seen him.

“She?”

“Aye, the ocean is my mistress.”

She laughed lightly. “Do you live near the ocean?”

“Aye. Seattle. And you?”

“New York, but I spend more time in the city than I do at the beach.”

“See that wasn’t so hard now was it?” He joked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Getting you to talk is quite the challenge. It’s like you’re afraid. Afraid to talk, to reveal yourself. To trust me.”

“I don’t trust anyone, don’t take it personally.”

“Not even Neal?”

She laughed loudly. “Nice try.”

“Sorry, love. Just trying to figure you out.”

“Why?”

“I like a challenge, I guess. Besides, no one should go through something like this alone.”

She stopped walking. “I am alone. None of us are here for each other. I don’t know you; you don’t know me. I’m not here to make friends.”

He turned to face her. “You’re not alone, Emma.”

Emma groaned. “Oh my God, why do you even care, you hate me anyway.”

“Actually, I quite fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me.”

For a moment she just stared at him, his eyes latched onto hers. And then she started laughing. It began in her stomach and it overwhelmed her until she was practically giddy with choked giggles and tears that formed under her eyelids. She didn’t even know why she was laughing, nothing about what was happening to her was funny, yet here she was, full belly laughs almost taking her off her feet.

When she finally calmed, he was looking at her with a smile across his face. “Wow I haven’t laughed like that in years.” She said softly.

“Long overdue then, I should say.”

He didn’t push for anything else, he simply continued the walk, taking in the views of the ocean until his watch started to beep and they both realized the time.

“Guess we should head back.”

She looked up at him, wondering what else was going on behind those eyes of his. “Um yeah.” They turned back to where they left their shoes. “Thanks.” Her voice was so quiet she wondered if he even heard her. But he simply nodded and bent down to gather his shoes.

She expected him to say something as they went their separate ways to their rooms, but he surprised her with simply a smile and a nod before heading to his room. She didn’t know what to make of Killian Jones. But for a moment they seemed to be at a truce.

“Where have you been?” Ruby was waiting for her in their room, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Just walking. Therapy was a bit rough today.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’ve had a couple of those days.”

“You didn’t happen to see Killian around tonight, did you?”

“I’m not his keeper.” She said quickly.

“I know, I was just looking for him, couldn’t find him anywhere.”

“Booty call?”

She laughed. “Nah, just worried about him.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “Oh, why?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t really talk about himself much, but I could tell that his last few sessions were really getting to him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe check the gym next time. I think he goes there once everyone has left.”

“Oh?”

She turned to change her clothes, ignoring the questioning looks from her roommate.

“Get some sleep Rubes.”

Emma pulled the covers under her chin, basking in the darkness of the night. She didn’t know what to think of her evening on the beach. There were times she absolutely hated the man with one hand. Loathed the way he stared at her, knowing he was trying to get under her armor. She didn’t understand Killian Jones. But what gnawed at her even more was the fact that she wanted to understand him.

~*~

Killian fell into bed that evening with thoughts of Emma Swan. It wasn’t until he woke the next morning that he realized he didn’t dream of Milah. There was no nightmare of her in his arms, her life drained from her body. No dream of her hair blowing in the wind on the deck of his ship. A part of him was angry that Emma invaded his thoughts and kept him from seeing Milah’s face in his dreams. The other part was curious to understand what this woman had that was invading so much of his life.

“There you are!” He looked up to see Ruby approaching his table, her tray of food in her hand. “I looked all over for you yesterday.

“Sorry love, I was a bit lost in my head yesterday. Was everything alright?”

“Of course, silly. I just wanted to see you.”

He smiled tentatively at the girl. He liked Ruby. She was very nice to him, had kept their relationship or lack thereof private, and seemed to truly care about his wellbeing.

“Well, here I am. So, tell me, lass. How are you doing?”

She smiled widely. “I’m doing great. Family day is coming, and my Gran is definitely coming.”

“That’s excellent news.”

“What about you? Are you inviting anyone?”

“I don’t have my phone privileges for another day. But I haven’t decided yet if I will be inviting anyone.”

“You really should consider it. It’s another big step in your recovery when you can work through things with those you love.”

“Thanks, I’ll consider it.”

He looked up and caught Emma staring in his direction and he found himself wondering if family day would bring Emma’s boyfriend to the island. He almost wanted to see the man that had destroyed her view of trust and helped push her down the path that led her here.

He already disliked Neal, he’d heard enough in their group session about his part in leading a 14-year-old to drugs and alcohol. What kind of a man could do that to someone they care about?

How could anyone love someone yet assist them in destroying themselves?

“Come on Killian, what’s the big deal. It’s like alcohol but faster.”

“Can’t you get addicted to this stuff?”

“Baby, it’s just for fun. We won’t let it go that far. Do this with me, just this once.”

“Alright love, just this once. Anything for my Milah.”

He pushed the thoughts away, shoving the last of his food into his mouth and excusing himself from the table. He would be forced to face enough truth’s in his sessions with Dr. Hopper, he’d be damned if he were going to drive himself mad at breakfast.

[danyka-fendyr]

Absence of Good

Chapter 3: Everybody Has a Hometown

Okay, so it’s a little late, but like I said last week, I decided not to release a chapter of this last week because I was putting out so many one-shots. I think I should be able to keep up a mostly consistent upload schedule but probably not a specific day. Oh well. Can’t have everything I guess. This chapter is particularly dark for a number of reasons, so I would suggest the faint of heart skip it. Also I’ve been watching a lot of horror movies lately, and so even though I haven’t seen Midsommar yet, I know it’s about a cult so that concept kind of inspired this chapter a little. Anyway, hope ya’ll enjoy.

Additional Note: Timeline wise I wanted to keep this pretty vague so while Reid’s self-proclaimed age in this chapter would make this circa season 6, you can imagine him in whatever season you like.

Permanent Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli

AoG Taglist: @pancakefancake @prettyboyspenerrr

Wordcount: 3365

Warnings: Death. Child predators. Child death. Violence. Mentions of sexual assault. Pedophilia. Bad relationship with parents. Mentions of cults.

“Loneliness does not come from having no people around one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible.”

-Carl Jung

“I’m sorry sir, you said we’re going where?” you said.

“Is there a problem, Y/L/N?” 

Hotch’s face never moved past ambivalence, but if it did, he would have been raising an eyebrow at you right now. He probably didn’t think that was workplace appropriate. Rossi, from across the table, had no such scruples and was openly making a face. The perks of seniority.

“No, sir. My apologies.”

“Alright then. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch said,

Spencer gave you a questioning look as you headed for your go bag, but all you offered in return was a noncommittal smile. The less everyone knew about this, the better. The last thing you needed was a big fuss.

You boarded the plane with the same mindset, hoping that your earlier surprise and commentary had blown over. Even if it hadn’t though, Hotch was not one to waste time on trivialities. Before anyone could ask you anything, Hotch was talking about the case.

“Three children, all in 3 weeks. Our unsub’s cooling-off period is basically non-existant.”

“That’s not characteristic of a preferential offender. They usually don’t have a big enough victim pool for that kind of speed,” you said.

“True. The victims cross gender lines as well. One girl, two boys. No way our guy is a preferential offender,” Morgan said.

“Assuming it is a guy,” Emily chimed in.

“You think it’s a woman?” you asked.

“It’s possible. Anything is on the table with an unsub that crosses the gender line,” she replied.

“It could be a woman, but statistically it’s far more likely to be a man. Men committed 89.5% of homicides in the United States of America between the years of 1980 and 2008, so while I certainly don’t think we should rule out the possibility, I wouldn’t put any concrete gender on our offender yet,” Spencer said.

“Alright, so we’ve got a guy with no cooling-off period who’s killing kids. Why? Is there any evidence of sexual assault?” JJ asked.

“The M.E.’s report doesn’t mention any on the victim’s examined so far,” Rossi said.

“Maybe it is a woman,” you theorized. “Children would be small enough to overpower, and the lack of sexual assault suggests a female unsub.”

“You may be right,” Hotch said. “We’ll know more when we get there and can examine the bodies firsthand. Spencer and Y/N, you can work with the M.E. on this one. Morgan, Prentiss, you head to the last dumpsite. Rossi, you’re with JJ. You two head to the previous two dumpsites, see if there’s anything left you might be able to find. We should be landing soon.”

As soon as your feet hit the tarmac, you felt a sense of dread. Part of it was, of course, your impending trip to the M.E. You weren’t a fan at the best of times, but kids...kids were hard. Very, very hard. It went beyond that though.

The smell of the air, the wind tugging softly at your hair, the feeling of the ground underneath your feet. The sad truth was that there was nothing you hated more than being home.

You were quiet as you got in the car, keeping your eyes on your phone. Your parents knew you were here by now, and they wanted you to come over for dinner when your case was finished. That was the last thing you wanted. You put your phone away, deciding to stare out the window at the too-familiar scenery instead.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked.

He was driving and you were in the passenger seat on the way to the M.E., which unfortunately gave him an uninhibited view of your face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just not looking forward to this.” Excuses, excuses.

“Yeah, me neither. This is going to be a rough case,” Spencer admitted.

“You’re telling me.”

“I wish I could say it gets easier, but...”

“When this job gets easier, they won’t need us anymore.” you sighed.

“Yeah. Something like that. I wouldn’t mind a world that doesn’t need the BAU though. Would you?”

“No. No, I suppose I wouldn’t. What would you do, if you weren’t in the BAU?” you asked.

“Me? Well...it’s kind of stupid.”

“No such thing.” you turned in your seat, facing your body towards him.

“When I was a kid, I had this dream...I wanted to be a magician, you know?”

“Wait, you can do magic tricks?” A grin curved across your face, utterly delighted.

“Uh, yeah. When the occasion calls for it.” Spencer lifted a hand off the wheel to rub the back of his neck.

“That’s amazing! Will you do one for me sometime?” 

Spencer glanced over at you, alert and smiling, looking happier than you had since boarding the plane.

“...Sure.” 

He smiled softly at you, and it was your turn to be embarrassed.

“So, what about you. If not the FBI, then what?” He asked.

Oh boy. This case was just going to be a walk down memory lane, wasn’t it?

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a psychologist or something.”

“That’s what you wanted to be growing up? A psychologist?”

You knew it was bad when Spencer Reid was judging you for your goals being too serious and academic.

“I mean, not as a kid, obviously, but when I was in college I thought about it,” you deflected.

“So what did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“It’s dumb,” you said.

“No such thing.”

“I hate it when you use my own words against me, Dr. Reid.”

He just waited, grinning rather cheekily.

“Okay, mister, you want to know what I wanted to be when I was a kid? I wanted to be a singer, alright? I wanted to learn how to play guitar and write my own songs and play sold-out stadiums. Like I said, dumb kid’s dream.”

“That’s not dumb. I mean, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not exactly up to date on music or...pop culture in general, I guess, but that’s not dumb. It sounds awesome, actually. I didn’t know you could play the guitar.”

“I can’t,” you said. “I said I wanted to learn, not that I did.”

“Why not?”

You shrugged. “Parents didn’t think it was a good idea. I got piano lessons instead. They were...educational.”

Fun would have been the wrong word.

“So your parents were strict?”

“Not exactly. They would like you though,” you said, steering the conversation away from yourself.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I have dinner with them this week probably and I kind of wish I could download even half the information in your brain so I could generate some truly impressive dinner table conversation.”

“I could make you some flashcards if you like.”

You laughed. “Thanks, Spence. I don’t think it would be as good as the real deal though.”

“Well, I could always come. The entire team could show. Make it a party,” he joked.

You went silent, thinking about it. “Gosh, there would be nothing I would love more than that. Sadly, you guys won’t even be in town anymore.”

“Anymore? I thought you were planning on flying out to see your parents?” Spencer asked, confused.

“Why would I when they’re right here?”

“This is your hometown?” 

“Sure is. It kind of sucks, right? One too many serial killers for my taste, if I’m honest with you.”

“Yeah. You may have a point there,” Spencer agreed, parking the car.

“So what are we looking at here?” You asked the M.E.

“This is a bit unorthodox, all things considered. You probably get that a lot though.” You waited patiently for him to continue. “It looks like there are no signs of sexual assault, but there is some..unique physical mutilation.”

“Unique how?” Spencer asked.

The M.E. moved towards the bodies. “See these cuts here? The marks make up a pattern. These weren’t done to kill. They’re more ritualistic in nature. The cause of death was actually a stab wound to the chest with acute pericardial tamponade. Or in other words, they were stabbed in the heart with a very long, very sharp knife.”

“What is this here, on the left shoulderblade?” Spencer asked, looking up from where he was bent over the body of the newest victim.

“It looks like...a tattoo of a turtle. Do the other victims have these?”

You examined the other two bodies, finding the same markings. They were surprisingly artistic, all things considered.

“These weren’t done by an amateur,” you mumbled.

“No. These were definitely ritualistic killings. We should have been called in sooner.”

You headed back to the team with your information, Know that you knew more about the bodies, it was becoming very clear what kind of unsub you were dealing with. Now there was a new question.

“Is it possible we’re dealing with multiple unsubs here?” Morgan asked.

“It could be. Given the ritualistic nature of these killings, this could be some kind of cult. Reid, what do you think the significance of the turtle is?” Hotch asked.

“Well, turtles popularly represent longevity, given their own lifespans, so it’s entirely possible that our unsub or unsubs think that they can achieve immortality with these killings.”

“What about the cuts on the body? You said those were in a pattern?” Emily asked.

“Yeah. Nothing decipherable, but we’re still working on it,” you said.

“Well, keep working. Morgan, I want you and JJ to work with Garcia and see what you can come up with on the tattoo angle. See if you can find anyway who would be able to do work like this. Garcia, I also want you looking into any local cults or societies. Anything you find that sends up red flags, send it to Prentiss. Prentiss, Rossi, you two can check out whatever Garcia sends you. Got it?”

Everyone hummed their assent, and you had the unfortunate job of getting to go back to the pictures sent from the M.E. It had been hours of staring at the carvings on the children’s stomach and backs and several cups of coffee before you started to get an idea. Concerned it might be half-hallucination, you called Spencer over from his own space.

“Is it just me, or do these marks kind of look like a tree? Long and straight on the bottom and then they curve up and out, like branches. Are you seeing that too?”

Spencer tilted his head, staring at them. “Actually...that might make sense. On the one hand, there’s a correlation to the tree of life. But on the other hand, turtles were also historically a symbol of mother nature. Which means...”

“Which means we might not be dealing with a bunch of Nicolas Flamel groupies after all. This could be the work of a group of eco-terrorists.”

“We have to tell Hotch.”

You made short work of the case once you realized the people you were actually after. Between the tattoo artist connection and the fact that your town did not have that many cults (though definitely more than you would have liked), it didn’t take you long to find your group. Apparently, they thought that if they sacrificed 8 people, children specifically for their purity, they could cleanse the Earth and...eliminate global warming or something. You had sort of stopped listening after the, “Yeah, we definitely did it,” part.

“Is Y/N not coming?” JJ asked, slinging her go-bag over her shoulder.

“Nope, afraid not. I have to have a family dinner.” you shrugged, hoping that if you played casual they would just...forget about it.

“You forgot to tell everyone?” Spencer spoke up, and you froze. “Y/N told me she wanted everyone to come to dinner tonight. Figured it would be fun to have a team dinner and a family dinner all at once.”

“Awww, little mama, you shouldn’t have.” 

Derek smiled, and you mustered a smile back. On the one hand, you were grateful to Spencer. You had certainly not been looking forward to dinner with your family. However...you also weren’t sure you wanted your family anywhere near the team. 

“Well, I know the best places to eat in town, so whoever is down...”

“Count me in,” Rossi said.

“I’m always available for good food.” That was Prentiss, giving you a knowing look that you would probably have to deal with later.

“Will and the boys weren’t actually expecting me home until tomorrow, and I just can’t miss a one time opportunity like this.” JJ smiled at you.

“Looks like you have the whole team.”

“Awesome!” Oh, this could go so badly for you.

On the way to the restaurant, you texted your parents to let them know there would be company. The place you had chosen to eat was a little hole in the wall diner with great burgers and a cute 50′s theme, and lucky for you, it was never very busy. You might have to push a few tables together, but there would be space for you.

You had all stopped off at the hotel beforehand, and you were nervous now that someone would comment on your appearance like they had all obviously wanted to when they first saw you. You didn’t look like your normal self. You looked...muted. Like someone had washed out all the color and replaced it with a solid layer of the most boring shade of beige. Rossi had saved you though with an elegant compliment, saying that you looked as lovely as ever. The man certainly had tact.

Hotch held the door open as you all entered the diner, and it didn’t take you long to find your parents. 2 people sitting at a table for 9. They stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Sweetheart!” 

Your mother smiled warmly, getting up to hug you. You father followed shortly after, and you introduced your team.

“It’s nice to meet all of you. Y/N talks about you a lot,” your father said.

“When she calls.” 

There was a hint of sincere bitterness to your mother’s joke, and you forced a brighter smile in an effort to fight it off.

“Oh, Mom, you know how it is. Busy all the time,” you said, letting Spencer pull out your chair for you before you both sat down.

The poor boy had, of course, no idea what he’d done. Now your Dad was staring at him skeptically, like Spencer was trying to get into your pants. Heaven forbid he have manners.

“So, Mr. Reid, what’s your role on the team?” your Dad asked.

“He’s a Dr., Dad. It’s Dr. Reid. And he’s our resident genius.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t mean to speak over Spencer like that, and you knew it was rude, but the urge to defend him had risen up so strong that it had just come out. You hoped he would forgive you, and you guessed by the soft smile he gave you that he did.

“What are you a doctor in, then?�� your Dad grumbled.

“I actually have 3 PhD’s, sir. In mathematics, chemistry and engineering.”

Maybe you had no right to look so proud, but you did anyway.

Your mother’s eyebrows shot up. “Impressive! And how old are you?”

You nearly groaned. In sharp contrast to your father, your mother was now trying to play the matchmaker. Joy.

“I’m 29.”

“Our boy wonder here is pretty impressive.” Morgan looked just as proud as you when he said it, giving you a smirk you didn’t understand.

Your Dad did not look happy about this development, so you spoke before he could.

“I mean, the whole team is impressive really. It’s crazy getting to work with all of you.” You laughed a little bit.

The conversation continued easier after that, steering away from work and into more mundane things like your childhood. In fact, everything was going fine. Or it was until your dear old Dad brought up your brother.

“You know, my only regret is that your brother couldn’t be here tonight. It’s a shame he’s away on business. He works hard though. Does important work.”

You did your best fake of a pleasant smile. “Of course.”

Your brother’s work was far from important. He worked as an insurance guy, for Pete’s sake. Your parents would never forgive you for being absent so often, but your brother? Oh, he could do no wrong.

“What? Do you disagree, Y/N?” The confrontation in your father’s tone was thinly veiled.

“No, of course not,” you said blandly. “I’m sure whatever he’s doing tonight is important. Pass the ketchup?”

Your mother gave it to you, leaving your father free to engage in his favorite activity. Picking a fight.

“I mean, can’t really get mad at him, can we? He calls home all the time, comes by for dinner frequently. He’s a good kid. Very successful.” You could practically taste the implication that you weren’t.

You refused to rise to the bait.

“Yeah, yeah. He’s definitely got the time for all that.” You nodded, unable to resist a subtle dig.

“Oh, and you don’t? Not 5 minutes to phone your mother?”

You kept your voice tranquil and cool. “I called her last week, Dad.”

“Didn’t call to let us know you were in town. Had to find out from that friend of yours, what was her name? The blonde?”

Gosh, did he have to do this now?

“Sorry. I’ll try to give you a better heads-up next time. This case was-”

“Oh, forget the case.” Your Dad rolled his eyes. “It’s always about the cases with you. Are your cases more important than your family?”

You grit your teeth. Fine then, if you were going to do this...

“No more important, I’m sure, then whatever the golden child is up to tonight.” You kept your tone even, but your voice was icy cool.

“Don’t give me that lip young lady! Your brother is a man, doing important work to provide-”

“Provide for who, Dad?” You interrupted, letting some of your frustration through. “He doesn’t have a wife or kids or a girlfriend. He’s certainly not sending money home to you. So tell me, Dad, who is providing for himself such a noble pursuit? Or was the more notable part of that statement that he’s a man? Which means it’s okay that he’s married to his work?”

“You know what? You’re not exactly getting hitched either, so don’t criticize your brother’s relationships. You have no right. And secondly, he’s a man doing good, honest work, and that’s the more notable part. If he’s married to his work right now, so what? He has time.”

“Oh yes, all the time in the world. Me, on the other hand, I should count my days. Sucks to be the oldest, huh? You just waste away before everyone’s eyes.” You sighed dramatically.

“Listen here-”

“Darling, please. We have guests.” Finally, your mother interrupted.

Your Dad gave you a glare that said this wasn’t over but settled back down, going back to his french fries.

The rest of dinner was awkward, to say the least. The conversation never quite returned to what it was, and you were glad when they brought the check. You were also glad when, under the table, Spencer squeezed your hand. A comforting gesture, a moment to say that he was with you, even if he wasn’t about to openly get involved in your family business without your consent. You appreciated that.

You were all more than relieved when the night was over, bidding your parents goodbye and watching them get into their car and drive away. You gave them a final wave as a send-off, despite your Dad only affording you a stormy glare.

JJ broke the silence. “So...your Dad’s kind of sexist, huh?” 

You snorted. “Yeah, something like that. You guys want ice cream? I know an awesome place, and we still have time...”

“Pretty girl, when am I ever going to turn down an ice cream cone?” Derek grinned at you.

“Sweet. Let’s go!”

The rest of the night had a much different tone than the one you’d started with, and you had to admit it. You just might have to thank Spencer Reid for this night after all. He could be a bit of a genius.

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.”

-Harper Lee

[sope-and-shine]

Christmas Special: Day 5

-> Pairing: Taehyung x reader -> Roommate! AU // Fluff -> Word Count: 2.5k -> Summary: You’re not going home to see your family this Christmas, and you’re roommate refuses to leave you alone during this special holiday. -> Warning(s): It’s fluffy.

Studying abroad is an amazing opportunity. It provides you with the chance to travel, the time to learn and appreciate another culture and quite possibly another language. It provides you the opportunity to make new friends and create new connections with others. You get the chance to bask in a new environment and learn from someone with a completely different mindset from teachers you’re used to. Moving to South Korea provided you with these opportunities, and it gave you an even bigger sense of independence to be so far away from your parents after being in their care for so long. 

But with the ups came the downs, and you are no stranger to the downsides of living in another country. Most students will choose a country to study in based on whether or not they know the language, but you chose the country based on what the program offered you. As an arts student, you saw the potential Korea could offer you, and you wouldn’t dare to pass up an opportunity like this. However, your dumb ass forgot that you don’t know Korean - at least you didn’t when you first got to school - and your parents fought tooth and nail to get you to choose any other school that fit your one skillset. But you weren’t raised to back down from a challenge, and something as small as a language would not stop you from pursuing the best education and opportunity you could get. And of course the language barrier wasn’t your only obstacle. You weren’t just moving to a country, you were moving to Seoul, South Korea. If you don’t know, Seoul is a very expensive city to live in. Not only would you have to find something affordable, but you would have to find a roommate if you wanted to live in a decent sized apartment instead of a hall closet. 

Yeah, you chose the school with no housing. Now, the plus side was the list your college provided you to help you find roommates going to the school as well as their interests and major. It helped a lot, but no one seemed to bite at your offer. You were foreign, didn’t know the language, and the only people that actually responded to your rooming requests were all male. To say your parents were against it - especially your father - was a huge understatement, and you can still see the look he gave you when you close your eyes. They obviously had good reasons. You’d be in a strange place with no family or friends, you didn’t know the language, you were a vulnerable female barely adult. Not to say anything bad about boys or men, but it wasn’t the best picture for your parents. They couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if any of these potential roommates were also potential weirdos. But with the lack of estrogen and your window of opportunity closing on you, you did have to settle for a male roommate in favor of a female. 

Thankfully, Kim Taehyung was not any of the things your parents were worried about. I mean, his profile made him look like a good guy, and you were able to facetime him a few nights before confirming anything. Now, Taehyung was and is not a fluent English speaker, sometimes he says things in English with so much false confidence and you wonder if he really knew what he was saying. But overall he looked and seemed like a really nice guy! So, you decided to put your faith into that idea, and it was probably the best decision you made. He found your apartment within a month with a friend of his: Kim Seokjin. His family owned various properties, and Taehyung was able to get a cheaper rent with his help. Your rent was half of what you were expecting to pay, and it made your dreams feel so much more attainable now that you had it right there. 

Then, it came to making friends. Once you became acquainted with Taehyung, he immediately began introducing you to his friends on his discord server including the one that helped you with an apartment. It was slow, but as soon as Namjoon revealed he could speak English fluently, it was like the bomb just went off. Eventually you all were in the same discord server talking as much as you could before it was time for you to actually meet them. And when it did come time for you say goodbye to your family and fly to your new home, you were greeted by the seven men as soon as you managed to reach the baggage claim. It was a welcome home you never thought you would find so comforting, and you were happy to have a support system before you even got to step foot into school. The boys were great at making you feel welcome, especially when you get lost in school or don’t understand your notes. They all try to keep an eye out for you, and Tae - as your roommate - does his best to go the extra mile where it’s needed.

Now, despite all the good things that came from your move, there was still one more down side to your decision: Coming home for the holidays. You aren’t made of money, and your parents certainly aren’t throwing it around either. Holidays and special occasions where you were used to having them around seemed just a little more lonely than you had anticipated. You had the boys and a few girlfriends that you’d made while studying, but they had their own families that lived much closer than yours did. But you’re a big girl, and you convinced yourself that you don’t need to be home to celebrate something as trivial as Christmas. You’d be fine on your own and you didn’t need anything or anyone else. At least, that’s what you’d told you’re family when they offered to pay for you to come home. You’d have to do it eventually, so why not start now?

Taehyung - the ever attentive and sweet roommate he is - didn’t like that response. He knew you were lying to yourself, especially when you’d be out getting groceries and he’d catch you staring at the children pulling their parents around the store. He already had you figured out, but he wouldn’t let you know that. He’d let you keep pretending, but he refused to let you suffer in silence.

That’s why he told his family he wasn’t coming home this Christmas.

You questioned him, knowing he was super excited to be going home, but he brushed you off with a simple, “I just have so much to do that I won’t get done if I go home.” Deep down you both knew it wasn’t just going home that would keep him from doing his work, but you let it slide nonetheless. At least now you wouldn’t be alone in your apartment for the holiday. But not being alone wasn’t the only thing Taehyung planned for you.

No.

He intended to make sure you had the best holiday away from home, that you’d never want to go home ever again! 

He first took you ice skating at a mall in Gangnam, having overheard that you and your family normally did that as the holidays came around. He thought it’d be a great way to connect your family with him, and just bring you a little closer to enjoying the holiday season, but he failed to remember that he himself was like a baby deer learning to walk when he went ice skating.

“Are you sure you want to keep going, Tae?” You ask slowly, still practicing your Korean - though very much improved. You’re in front of him skating backwards, tucked in dark blue jeans and a large white sweater with a purple winter vest and plain black gloves. You’re concerned, but it’s hard not to giggle while he clings to the rail beside him for dear life, trying to find some semblance of balance without making a total fool of himself. “We can always take a break and have some hot chocolate.”

“No! I can do this!” He refuses to ruin this day out for you. He would skate and he would like it; He could not afford to let you down. With as much confidence as he can muster, he lets go of the rail to skate on his own, but quickly loses balance and falls onto the cold ice below him. The pout on his face is only half of the pain and embarrassment he feels. “Aish! I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

“What are you sorry for?” You ask. You put yours hands out for him to take and help him to his feet again. You give him a big smile, “Don’t worry about falling, Tae, just focus on me.” You pull him with you, moving slowly and trusting your peripherals to know when you get to the turn. Taehyung is hesitant at first, but once you begin to make funny faces at him, he can’t help but to keep all of his attention on just you. You both continue on like that, making slow laps as others pass you multiple times. But you’re both having too much fun to really care. “Now is this so bad?”

“I guess not.” He admits. 

The scene is a cute one, one that you would see in a Hallmark movie or something. And no Hallmark movie would be complete without with the ‘couple’ being put into a cute and promiscuous position. “Watch out!”

Two teenagers trying to race push by the both of you, hitting Taehyung from behind and pushing him forward. He loses his balance, and there’s nothing you can really do to keep the both of you from falling. Taehyung falls on top of you, crushing you on the ice with your faces only centimeters apart. Just like the movies, it feels like the world around you stopped, with only you and him in the constant flow of time. You’re just looking into each others eyes, without a care for the world.

Eventually, Tae does come to his senses when he realizes how long he’s stayed on top of you. He pushes himself back onto his knees and carefully attempts to stand up, “Sorry!” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You stand up next to him with ease, a soft blush covering your cheeks. You shrug, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Right.” Taehyung puts a smile back on his face and nods in the direction of the rink entrance, “Let’s get that hot chocolate now.”

Ice skating wasn’t a total bust, but it was definitely interesting. Your night after was a little awkward to say the least, but even so, Taehyung refused to be defeated. He had more planned for the two of you, and ice skating was just the start. He took you to see lights, a carriage ride in the park, a surprise snowball attack after one of your classes - Yoongi had got caught in that one and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him or Yoongi run that fast before. Needless to say, Taeyung kept you busy. So busy that you almost completely forgot that you weren’t home for the holiday. 

But there was still one more activity he had in store before Christmas Day would arrive.

After coming home from a 6 hour long class, you immediately head for the couch for some Netflix time. However, the scene that replaced your living room was not what you were expecting. “Tae, what’s this?” 

Before you stands a tree almost too big for the room, new boxes full of ornaments and lights litter the floor around it while Taehyung sits unbothered on your couch in a Christmas sweater and a Christmas hat. You don’t even want to know how long he’s been sitting in that spot for, you just want to know where and when he got all of this.

“I thought we could make the apartment a little more festive. Look, I even got a hat for you to wear!” He pulls out another red Christmas hat to match his own, this one just a little smaller to fit your head. He looked super excited to be decorating a tree in the apartment, and you knew you’d feel bad if you turned him down. That’s how you found yourself blaring Christmas tunes and delicately placing ornaments onto the new tree while Taehyung strung lights onto the tree. You both danced to your hearts’ content and spent most of the night just laughing at each other. It was relaxing, and you had to admit that the tree looked stunning once it was done. 

“I think we did a good job.” You admit, sitting on the couch beside your roommate. You’d long since turned the main lights off in favor of the Christmas lights Tae had placed on your tree, enjoying the plethora of new colors that graced your living space. 

“I have to agree.”

You both sit silently, letting the music play around you in place of conversation. It was a weird feeling to have, being together in peace without having to say anything at all. It was just like that first day you arrived and all 7 of the boys came to pick you up from the airport with signs and balloons. 

You felt at home.

“Hey, Tae?” You cut through your silence, turning to the boy who sat beside you with eyes closed towards the ceiling. He hums in response, not opening his eyes nor turning his head. “Did you stay here for Christmas so I wouldn’t be alone?”

“Well, no one deserves to be alone on Christmas. Especially you.” He opens his eyes and gives you his famous boxy grin, “I stayed so I could give you the best Christmas ever. A Christmas so good, that you would forget you weren’t home.”

You had already figured that’s what his plan was this whole time, but hearing him actually say it to you? You could feel your heart melting in your chest. Nobody had ever done anything this sweet for you. Nobody has ever done as much as Taehyung has done for you. The past few weeks have been amazing thanks to him, and it justified the feelings that you had bubbling inside you.

“Tae. I am home.” You didn’t think it was possible for his grin to get any wider, but it did and it was beautiful. Next thing you know, the sight of his smile is replaced with the warmth of his body encircling your own. He’s wrapped you in a tight hug and holds you tighter than you thought was possible. You squeak, “Taehyung?!”

He shakes his head, keeping it tucked into your shoulder, “I’m really glad you feel that way.”

Neither of you say more. You only wrap your arms around him in return and enjoy the feeling of him holding you in the comfort of your own home. The home you share with him. You may not be home with your biological family, but you’re with the family you created. 

Who knows, maybe your family will be more than just platonic if Santa keeps working his Christmas Magic~

[grody-cosplay-n-crap]

Good dreams are worse than nightmares

on ao3

Drabble is based on a canon where the "Derry curse" doesn't die with Pennywise and the losers are still doomed to forget. Angst because I hate myself. Post movie.

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

Richie Tozier had a pretty good life. Actually, most people would probably say it was a great life. A few simple dickheads might even think it was the perfect life. After all he was a minor celebrity, one who basically got paid to tell dick jokes. He might not be Hollywood royalty but he got invited to late night talk shows and once in a while had a real role in a real life creative project (only some were trash). Some days he still couldn't believe he made enough money to never want for anything by essentially being a charming asshole (debatably). Something else that appealed to those simple idiots who idolized his lifestyle was the fact men in his position tended to have access to lots of women, most vastly out of their league. Groupies, girls seeking a flash of attention, even starlets seemed to let themselves be taken in by the most pathetic of idiots as long as they were funny. Now Richie was definitely a pathetic idiot, but not an extreme one by comedian standards. In fact he might be a damn Adonis among funnymen. Therefore it would make sense he would be drowning in women hotter than would have even glanced at him before the fame. The fact these women didn't actually exist was a minor detail. His lack of romance wasn't really a concerted effort. He never sat down to think through why women had never really been part of his life. A "reason" didn't haunt him, those thoughts never coming to the forefront of his mind. All he knew was that their absence didn't feel much like an absence. It just felt normal, right. And so what if there actually was no hot girlfriend with even hotter friends to jerk off to? The illusion was the important part and he was good at it. He was charming enough to say the shitty not-actually-his material in just the right way so people would actually laugh, and in return got fame, fans, and money. So yeah, he had a pretty good life.

Except for the dreams.

It wasn't every night. He wasn't actually sure how often, when he remembered he had them, the memories slipping down away from his conscious mind into the dark like a watching a coin fall down a well. The nights when they came were almost always normal, with him slipping into sleep casually, often helped by some whiskey. 

The main dreams were mostly flashes. Images, sounds, feelings. Blood, more than he had previously comprehended was in a human body. On his glasses, tinting his vision. The wrenching feeling of just one instant, irreparable and unfathomingly terrible. An invisible hook yanking his guts far away from his body with dread. A face, a voice saying his name. Words trying to come out, feeling as if he had swallowed a plant covered in barbs, hooking themselves deep into the rings of his esophagus. His brain, in shock, protecting itself with denial, dissociation. Voices around him full of pity. His body was moving, but against his own will. Tunnel vision zooming in on just what he is leaving behind as he is dragged away. Why the fuck are these hands him? Don't they know they have to help? Let him go, LET HIM GO. He is sure he is screaming but there is no sound, just slow motion destruction, the crumbling of a house and his hope. Finality. The blood...the blood is still there. He had promised and he had LIED. He was a traitor-

gone, gone, gone-

Richie wakes more violently than he knew possible, his heart pumping his body full of adrenaline, a mockery of when his ancestors spent days ready to run from a lion's jaws at any second. As the sweat cools and tremors make their way through his body Richie wishes there was a lion. There is nothing to run from here, just the feeling of a raw hole where his heart should be. A despair so bone deep it's physically painful, making him curl in on himself as if to hide from it. And even as the feeling something irreplaceable is gone clutches him tightly around the throat still it begin to fade. He can't hold on to the feelings, so much so it seems like trying to keep water from evaporating off him in the hot summer sun. Soon enough he has slipped back into sleep, dreamless. By the morning nothing is left but the vague recollection of something haunting him in the night. Something that seemed so terrible in the dark twilight zone of 4 AM but now in the clarity of daylight and reality seems trivial. 

Sometimes right before succumbing to unconsciousness a moment of clarity will come, a flash of memory that he's afraid, terrified to see the dream again. Sometimes when he wakes he begs to remember, so he can at least be prepared. So he can try to understand. So he can go to a fucking doctor and force them to give him something so strong he'll never fucking dream again. Tears of frustration slow and dry even as he begs.

Those aren't the only dreams though.

There is another kind that will come to him with frustrating infrequency. Deceptive things, possibly more devastating in the long run than the ones full of blood and fear. These dreams are soft and warm, safe. A cheesy song from some 60' s girl group is playing in the background, slow enough that dancing is really just slight rocking back and forth. Because he is dancing, holding someone close and he can't remember if he has ever done this before. They are shorter than him, sturdy in his grip. He looks down and thinks 'ah, that's why I'm not interested in those women'. There is no name to the face but he feels a certainty even stronger than that of his own name that he never has or ever will love someone as much as he does this person in his arms. They notice his stare and look up with a half smile, eyebrow raised, and if Richie was dumb enough to still believe in such things he might think this is how heaven feels. 

When he wakes up the heavy grief settles on him like a second blanket. He accepts slowly that this is reality, hard and sharp and bright, almost unbearable and he thinks maybe he is actually in hell. He tries to mentally grip onto the dream as hard as he can but with every beat of his heart memories collapse like that house- what house? These dreams stay with him for a couple days. He admonishes himself for basically having the romance version of a wet dream. At least he thinks that's what it was, he knows he had a dream and in that dream he felt so happy he had been moping about reality for days, which was pathetic. He was forty not fourteen. For some reason the jokes about his fake girlfriend seem even more wrong for a couple shows, but he can't figure out why. Soon these feelings too turn into nothing but a slight whisper in the back of his mind and as he always has and always will Richie Trashmouth Tozier pushes them away, slaps on a smile and pushes on with his amazing life. And if the numbness he has felt since his vague childhood keeps growing like a limb slowly losing circulation then so be it. Ignorant to a cycle his brain refuses to remember, doomed to relive trauma he can't understand, still the show will go on. 

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

I read fix it fics but this is the shit I write. I'm sorry I don't know why I'm like this. Might do a sequel where he remembers because I love pain. First time I've written in like....7 years, I hope it's not bad

now has a sequel 

[viktorrotkiv]

Hey @otherpeoplesheartachept-2! I don’t know if it’s intentional, but we’re each other’s @carryonsecretsanta secret santas! I loved writing for your prompt, I hope you enjoy this.

Prompt: Margaret the dragon has a girlfriend but they’ve been unable to see each other for years, finally they’re reunited

Word count: 1.9k

Genre: Fluff

The other dragons are waking. Margaret can feel it all over. At first, it’s a very low, very quiet vibration, shaking her legs and her fingers and knocking her teeth together whenever she’s in human form. She thinks it’s an incoming earthquake, but it lasts much too long for that. Days, weeks, maybe months. She doesn’t know. After so many years, time is a little blurry, but that doesn’t bother her. Next it turns into a rumbling sound, still distant and minor, but definitely growing stronger. At this point she starts to speculate what it really is. Then it becomes deafening. This part is shorter. A day or so, Margaret would say, if she really had to guess. Suddenly, one clear morning, they start waking up entirely. Popping up, Margaret calls it. Usually it’s just one or two at a time, but soon they’re all awake, and they start to talk and mingle among themselves. Most of them have been asleep for centuries, while others have been rooted in these mountains for much, much longer. There’s a lot of catching up to do after such a period of time.

    Margaret takes tours of her new… neighborhood. She talks to a few dragons at a time, but so many new encounters exhaust her after a couple of centuries of quiet, and she goes home to rest very quickly. She doesn’t know most of the other dragons; a rare species doesn’t mean that there are subjectively few of them. One individual cannot know many hundreds of others, especially here, where she did not live for most of her life.

    But one day, Margaret does meet someone she knows. She’s busy with her usual rounds, making introductions, warning the dragons against harming her human friend, engaging in conversations about the weather. (For dragons, these conversations aren’t as trivial as they are to humans, and they aren’t a symbol of politeness; the weather is as critical to their survival as food and beverage are, and they only discuss it with those they know or hope to get to know better.) In the distance, Margaret hears shrill, rolling laughter, an unmistakable noise. She immediately excuses herself from the circle she is standing in, bewildering her new friends, and goes back to her mountain. There, she sleeps and ponders, eats, ponders, naps, thinks some more, and finally, makes a decision.

    The next day she goes around with a more specific purpose than before. Does anyone know her? Have they heard her incredible laughter? Have they met an irresistible yet infuriating dragon? It doesn’t take too long to find her. Ismelda is a people person. Or rather, a people dragon. A dragons dragon?

    Margaret lands one mountain away. Flying has been difficult this past century or so, with all the pollution in the air. They may be dozens of miles from the nearest humans, but smoke travels, and it’s been hard on the lungs. That’s one reason why most of the dragons prefer to walk. There is also the slight chance of a human seeing them in the sky, and actually processing what they saw, and telling the world about them. The dragons wouldn’t care based on principle alone, but it might lead to some uncomfortable hassling. Tour guides. Memorabilia. It would be impossible to take naps with humans walking all over them.

    This time, though, Margaret was in a hurry. So she flew, and she landed a short distance away, hidden by a thick woods. Her heart is beating quickly, but she’s sure that she wants to do this. She can be very stubborn, which is helpful, because she hardly ever regrets any decisions she makes.

    Margaret takes a deep breath, steels her nerves, and walks over to Ismelda’s mountain. She can determine the exact moment that Ismelda notices her, and then, a split second later, the moment she recognizes her. A flurry of wings and excited exclamations surround Margaret, and before she can react she realizes that she’s engulfed in a hug. She doesn’t know how she feels about this. Ismelda did leave her all alone without explanation almost 200 years ago.

After a brief exchange of polite niceties, Margaret decides to get to the point. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

    Ismelda looks confused. “I do? Look, I know I haven’t kept in touch, but I got back here and just went back to sleep. It was so cold, you wouldn’t believe it.”

    Now Margaret is confused. “No, no, not that. You cannot be serious! Did our relationship really mean so little to you?”

    “No, of course not. It was a lot of fun. I actually really liked you.” She studies her hands for a long moment. “I… I would have even considered staying in England for us, but I know you weren’t on the same page as me about that, so…. It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to get over it. Wait- where are you going? I’m sorry if I offended you-”

    “I’m pacing.”

    “You… huh?”

    “I’m confused.” Margaret turns around and stares at the other dragon, but after a few seconds, her eyes start wandering uncomfortably. “You really liked me? A lot? But you came back here?”

    “Yeah. Of course. I didn’t want to impose on you. And my vacation was supposed to be over, so…”

    “But you weren’t imposing. I would have loved for you to stay.” Margaret sits down on the ground and holds her head.

    Ismelda crouches down next to her. “Are you crying?”

    “I’m just thinking. What you’re saying is, we both wanted you to stay and continue our relationship, but we each thought the other one wanted you to leave?”

    “I guess so. We’re not very good at communicating, are we?”

    Margaret lets go of her head and instead starts twisting her rings. A smile tugs at her lips. “Let’s stop doing that. It’s very inconvenient.”

    Ismelda laughs the roaring laugh Margaret loves so much. “Yes, let’s. And in the spirit of that, how do you feel about me now?”

    “That’s very forward.”

    “I thought that was the point. I still have feelings for you, you know. I convinced myself that I didn’t, but seeing you again…” She drifts off and stares expectedly at Margaret. She thinks she knows what her answer is going to be.

    “Yes.” She looks up at Ismelda and grins wildly. “Of course I still love you.” She seems taken aback by her own intensity, but her smile doesn’t falter. “Honesty, right? Then yes. I love you. I never stopped thinking about you.” She starts to say something else, but a kiss forces her to shut up.

Shepard comes to visit a week later. Margaret can tell he’s worried about something, and she tells him that. He gives her a half-smile. “Listen, Maggie, I’m going away for a bit. Do you remember the Mages that came by?”

    “I remember. Not Mages. One Mage. And the kitten, and the…” She makes a sour face.

    Shepard laughs. “Right. Well, they need to go back home now, and I’m going with them. They’ve already left, actually. My flight is tomorrow.”

    “I don’t like them. Be safe”

    “Yeah, I know you don’t, but I really do trust them, Maggie.”

    Margaret nods. “I know. I trust you. Don’t trust them, trust you… When will you be back?”

    “I’m not sure. This could take a while. Will you be alright by yourself, while I’m in England?”

    “Who’s going to England?”

    Shepard’s bewildered gaze travels over Margaret’s face and behind her, where he spots the speaker, partially camouflaged among the trees but coming closer. “Maggie, who’s this?”

    “No need to panic. I’m Ismelda. You must be Shepard!”

    “I am.” He still looks confused.

    “Shep, this is Ismelda!” Margaret isn’t helping to alleviate his confusion.

    “Yeah, I, I heard… Sorry, who are you? And please don’t say ‘I’m Ismelda’.”

    “He’s funny!” Ismelda giggles. “I’m a dragon. I’m Margaret’s girlfriend.”

    “Well, this is new!”

    “You look mad, Shep. Are you mad?” Margaret crouches down and starts busying herself with something.

    “No, of course not! I’m very happy for you. I just… when did this happen? I was here a couple of weeks ago.”

    “Oh, a century or two ago.”

    “What? So you just never told me about it? I’ve gotta admit, I’m a little bit hurt.” The twinkle in his eyes suggests otherwise.

       “Oh, no no no, we only met again last week.”

       “I’m confused again. Tell me everything.”

       A fire blazes up between Margaret’s palms. So that’s what she was doing on the ground. “Sit.”

       Shepard and Ismelda sit. Margaret talks. “Ismelda took a vacation in England almost two hundred years ago. She was traveling around the north and she heard about a range of dragons even further up. She decided she had to find it, even though it was already too cold for her. She’s dumb like that.”

       “Hey!”

       “Anyhow, she did find us, but she was cold and miserable by the time she got there. I agreed to house her and care for her until she could keep going-”

       “I didn’t need caring for. It was more like a few meals, a hot bath, and a bed for a night or two.”

       “-but we had a nice time together, and she stayed longer than planned. Eventually we… fell in love, I guess. We didn’t tell each other how serious it was at the time, but we did have a relationship. She stayed with me for the rest of her trip. When she was supposed to go home, she wanted me to ask her to stay, and I wanted her to let me know she wasn’t going… Neither of us said anything, and Ismelda left.”

       “Shepard, are you crying?”

       “He gets like that sometimes. Humans are strange.”

       “Keep going! I need to hear the rest of the story!”

       “I’m getting there. Ismelda went back home - here - and fell asleep. I decided that I needed a change of scenery and I decided to have a vacation of my own in America. We had never discussed where exactly Ismelda was from, but for some reason, I felt that this was the right place for me to settle.”

       “You haven’t told me that! It’s like we’re soulmates.” Ismelda snuggles up to Margaret, reaching a hand towards the fire.

       “I didn’t tell you because we’ve only been together for a week.”

       “Not accurate.”

       “You know what I mean. There wasn’t time.”

       “Aww, you guys are adorable when you bicker!” They both stare at him. “Sorry. Keep going.”

       “Well, I slept for a bit, but it quickly got too warm for me. I liked it here. I decided to stay a bit longer. Then I met you, and I decided to stay even longer… Then the others started waking up and I realized Ismelda was here.”

       “What others?”

       “The other dragons.”

       “They’re awake?” Shepard stands, as if he intends to go meet them right now.

       “The mountains are absolutely swarming with them,” Ismelda clarifies.

       “Shepard, sit down. They’re not going to be as friendly to humans as we are. I’ll tell them about you and then we can introduce you when you get back.”

       Shepard checks his watch. “I’ve gotta go! I’ll let you know when I’m back, Maggie,” he kisses her on the cheek, “it’s been lovely to meet you, Ismelda.” He gives her a hug, then starts walking away, waving. He turns around halfway down the mountain and yells, “I won’t forget you promised to introduce me to the other dragons!”

       Ismelda chuckles, wrapping her arms around Margaret’s shoulders. “He’s cute.”

       “Yes. I just wish he knew how to stay out of trouble.” Margaret leans back into Ismelda and closes her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”

[xxwinterchillxx]

Halloween Dance and Some Unfortunate Events

Summary:

Levi is willing to go all the way to get Eren to go with him to the Halloween Dance. But things get complicated since Levi cannot show any sign of intelligence around the German hottie. However, he isn’t taking no for an answer.

Rating - Teen and Up Audiences

Categories - M/M

Relationships - Levi/Eren, background relationships, Moblit/Hanji, Armin/Erwin, Krista|Historia/Ymir

Chapters - 2/?

Read below cut or read on AO3

Chapter 2: Hello

“Do you think he likes lemons?”

 I looked up to see Hanji sniffing a stick of deodorant and then rubbing it on her neck vigorously. We were chilling in the library. Maybe this is why nobody sits next to us at school. Not that I mind though.

Erwin looked up from his book, “I don’t know, Hanji. I thought Moblit likes the smell of lime not lemons.”

“They’ve the same smell, yeah,” Hanji tried to convince herself doubtfully. I rolled my eyes when she started rubbing it on her violently again.

She is so lucky. Moblit is literally so into her that he would still serenade her even if she smelled like piss. Hanji told me once that she talks to Moblit every day on the phone. So I don’t know why she’s freaking out so much over such trivial stuff.

“Hey, Erwin,” I said, not looking up from my book.

“Yeah?”

“Just out of curiosity, who are you going to the dance with?”

Before he replied, Hanji snorted mockingly, “Ha, you know, it’d be pretty funny if you go with that Armin freak. He looks so much like you it’ll look like you’re taking out your cousin.”

I could see Erwin opening and then closing his mouth like a fish.

I joined in the jeer. “Yeah, their eyebrows even match! What do you even do to make them look so… bushy?” Hanji slapped her thigh and we both snickered uncontrollably.

Erwin nervously shifted his position.

“So anyway, who’re ya goin’ with?”

“… Armin…”

  Honestly, I can’t even.

I mean, to go from a glam like me to Armin is just insulting.

  Now that I look back on it, Hanji and I should’ve been much more supportive. We just spent the whole library session talking smack to Erwin about Armweird (Ha, get it? I’m weird) and why he shouldn’t go with him. I think I remember Hanji even making a small bullet list of Armin’s faults. Erwin’s a pretty tough guy and he just shrugged it off. But he called us ‘jerks’.

Armin’s totally the sore thumb of Eren’s group.

 ~~oOo~~

Hanji and I stood leaning near some random door in the hallway, judging the people that would walk past us.

“I don’t get why Jean is so popular.” She earnestly remarked aloud as Jean passes us by.

He seemed to have heard it and glared long at Hanji. He probably thought he was shooting daggers at her but then I shot him one of my darkest looks and growled, “Keep walking, horse-face.”

And he did.

Man, I love it when people do that.

“Hey, you know what we should do?” yapped Hanji out enthusiastically.

“What?”

She excitedly tore a page from her book. I waited in bated breath while she scribbled down something in it. Her smile was eventually getting wider. Before I could even ask her what was going on, she tore the page in two and handed one to me.

“Let’s drop junk mail in Eren’s locker!”

I scrunched up my nose, “Sure.” Then I looked at my paper. In it was written-

‘hey hottie, I like your ass. Let’s do shit together sometime. btw #gototheDancewithme” and then a lot of xo’s.

“What if he figures out who wrote it?”

“No, he won’t. He’s dumb.”

I smirked, “This is dumb.”

“Everyone likes to mess with their crushes.”

I wanted to laugh with her but then I noticed the other paper. I tried to take a peek, “And what’s written on that?”

At that, Hanji smiled even wider.

‘Stay the fuck away from my date, doll face. I’d give you the finger but I see you already have two sticking up your cheap ass.

P.S. I know you hook up with Ymir behind the bleachers.

<3 xoxo’

“What the fuck, Hanji?”

Hanji heaved proudly, “Well, as your best friend, I have decided it’s time for Levi to terminate Eren’s side-hoes permanently for good.”

I frowned, “But-”

“And we hate her.”

I kept quiet for a minute, processing the plan. Krista would bawl her eyes out like the melodramatic bitch she is but she’d keep it bottled up to herself. So, there is no risk of Eren or anyone else for that matter finding out about it. And I know for a fact that Krista is a two-faced motherfucker whom everyone falls for. And if anyone could ruin my chances of being Eren’s sugar-tits, it’s that asshole.

Hanji looked at me happily, “Oh and we can use my name to sign the note to Krista!!”

I clenched my fists and shot my darkest look to Hanji, “Fuck that. Let’s sign my name underneath it.”

“Now we’re talking.”

“Fuck yeah, give me that note.”

Ugh, Krista’s so stupid. My hate has been seeded deep for 3 years. I used to mildly hate her ever since she and Eren seemed to go all lovey-dovey. Then that fool Moblit had the guts to tell me and I quote: “Maybe you hate her because you feel threatened by her presence. People get upset when someone more attractive than them has a crush on their crushes.”

I won’t go into further details but it ended ugly, really ugly. I pushed him. He didn’t really fall but he apologised. He learned his lesson.

Now that I think about it, I don’t think he was very intimidated by my push.

 Anyway, we dropped the letters. Surely, Krista will now let go of Eren and all that’s left is Mikasa and those other goons. I can easily set myself apart from those idiots and Eren doesn’t like Mikasa very much so the rest is easy-peasy.

I’ll ask Eren out. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeasy.

And if he refuses, I am going to go back to France and live there for the rest of my life as a whore under the name Consuela.

 ~~oOo~~

Petra kept talking and talking to me in algebra today so I didn’t even get a chance to even look at Eren who was sitting to my right. To be honest, I really wasn’t paying any attention and was just idly watching her jaw move up and down when I thought I saw someone behind her looking at me. So I focused on the person sitting in the other row. It’s that Krista.

She was staring me directly in the eyes. How dare she? No one, literally no one can do that with me. And she winked at me and smiled before turning away, giggling to her friends.

I threw up in my mouth, I swear. This very obvious signal of hers can only mean that she has read my note. But the main thing is that she fucking disrespects my name. That little blonde fucker. Well, guess what, princess? You’re getting pushed ….by Hanji.

Then she’ll know who to fear in this school.

The bell rang.

I got up and strode over to her bench wearing the darkest frown I could muster. Petra looked confused but she still followed after me.

Krista, instead of running away into the arms of her much more athletic friend, Ymir, ran up to me instead.

Before I could process it, she blushed and smiled shyly, “Yes, Levi.”

“Excuse me?”

Then, she gave me a big hug, “I agree to go to the dance with you!!” I could feel everyone’s eyes looking at us.

Oh hell no!! I shoved her off and rushed to the Hanji’s class hurriedly. I bumped into something in the doorway. It was Eren. He looked visibly upset. He looked like he wanted to ask me something but I shouted, “Well, excuse you.” And ran past him.

Breathlessly, I arrived in front of Hanji.

She stopped deadpan in her walk and stared at me. “This can’t be good.”

Through pants, I manged to say, “Of course it fucking isn’t. We screwed up, Hanji. We screwed up big time.”

 Hanji and I had a long talk, figuring out what happened and after about 5 minutes, we managed to put the pieces together-

I signed my name under the paper which we were supposed to give to Krista. As per the actual plan. But the universe had decided to fuck me over. Due to a miscommunication, Hanji thought I meant that we should sign my name under both the notes. Which would’ve been embarrassing enough on its own when Eren finds it in his locker. But no. We didn’t just screw up once. We screwed up twice. We apparently switched the notes and Krista now thinks that I am asking her out.

“Oh my god, I called my crush a lesbian, Ymir-kissing slut with fingers up his ass.”

“Eren hasn’t had any free classes.”

“What?”

“Since the moment we dropped the notes, Eren hasn’t checked his locker because he didn’t have any free classes.”

“Holy shit, that means we can still fix it!”

“Ooohh mmyy good, Levi, he has a free period now!!”

We dashed through the hallway, pushing past the people. There was Eren standing in front of his locker, talking to Mikasa about something while idly pushing the buttons to open it. As soon as he saw me, he stopped talking and stared. Normally, I would’ve blushed and gone all jelly and stupid. But this was an emergency.

I didn’t even think twice before I shoved him onto Mikasa and yanked his locker open, breaking the lock along with it. Hanji grabbed the note and sighed loudly, “Oh thank God!”

And only then did I realise the consequences of my actions. Eren was still staring at me. But not in the smizing way; instead, he was looking aghast. I had shouted at him earlier and now, I literally threw him to Mikasa and broke his locker. All the while looking like a dishevelled nut-job.

Hanji confidently smiled to Eren and chimed, “Someone has been using Levi’s name and dropping random notes in people’s lockers.”

I nodded my head vigorously and mentally hugged Hanji damn hard. Eren’s mouth formed an ‘O’ shape. I said to him, “Sorry about the locker. I’ll fix it sometime.” That was probably the most logical sentence I had ever said to him.

He shrugged, “No problem. So… you didn’t ask Krista out?” He tilted his adorable head and smiled slyly at me, his gorgeous green eyes glittering mischievously.

Oh boy… here comes the jelly and the stupid…

“Neigh-neigh.”

 Maybe this is my punishment for calling Jean a horse-face.

<Previous | Next>

[ddonggeun]

Hey! So I’m suspecting if I got adhd/add but is there any symptom idk. It’s really exp here to get it diagnosed

sorry it took me a while to get back to you because honestly i dont know whats a good alternative for you can be so i guess i can share my own experience? 

first of all i think googling symptoms and types of adhd and reading peoples account on how adhd/add manifest is a good start? my doctor and the reddit /r/adhd REALLY help me to accept myself (which is the first step i think) but the way i get diagnosis (i am adhd with predominately inattentiveness - but at the same time i have depressions and dyslexia which is like a killer combo 10/10 would never rec) is that i came across with an article a couple months about how girls with adhd are more likely to be (mis)diagnosed with depression and it basically fucks up multiple generations because they cant get the help they need and i was like wait whats describe in it sounds kind of like me but at the same time i have always been very lethargic and rather well behaved in class growing up i am nothing like what you would typically associate with adhd (you know the hyper-activeness) so during my next visit to the doctor (im getting treatment for my depression) i mention to the article to her and she said wait you know what describe how you feel in a classroom setting growing up and is there anything you do that teachers complain about repeatedly and tell me how studying and doing homework is like to you and so i did (i can go further into details of my life since a lot contributes to why i only get diagnosis when im 21… let me know if you would like to know i guess?)

my doctor (who just so happens to be an adhd specialist and is quite active in the research area i didnt know before then we stan forever i love her really she is so encouraging and so good at her job) took some notes as i was talking and after im done she said you know what i think you might be onto something but i cant be sure yet (since i have depression and dyslexia which both overlaps quite a lot with adhd/add) why dont i first explain to you what adhd is and i’ll give you the set of official diagnosis questions you dont have to do it just take a look at it first do some research organize your thought talk to your parents about it and if you think getting a test on it is something you want we can set up another appointment and we can go from there - which is really really nice because adhd has always been a taboo at least with my upbringing it makes you a loser socially academically and you know just in general its not something you will want to have…. 

in hind sight there are SO MANY SIGNS even in early childhood how come no one notice i dont know prolly because i grew up in the 00s if you are different you need to kys lmao rip: 

trouble paying attention in school or work,

the appearance of not listening - although im an audio learner funny enough

avoidance of activities that require sustained focus,

being easily distracted 

restlessness

fidgeting and cant sit properly - i shake my legs or click my pen so much especially when im thinking or anxious lmao, i got into trouble a lot when i was younger because i only sit in my seat facnig the teacher 5 mins max at at ime then i move around or i move the chair around i think better when i cross my legs but i went to a uniform school and i always make my skirt too short so you know

interrupting - if i dont say what comes to mind when it comes to mind, the thought is gone forever

frequent talking and talking way too fast - i get the exact same comment every single report day class from when i was 4 till i graduated high school im not even kidding “she has excellent comprehension skill and reading speed. it would be great if parents can help her out a bit in maths or chemistry.  she has a lot of potential if she applies herself, she seems distracted although when we ask her questions she can answer. very helpful and bubbly and yet she talks too much in class. she is not disruptive and her seatmate never complains but she just doesnt stop talking. we have been pairing her up with quiet students in class in the hopes that she will talk less in class but she just turn the quiet student talkative”

trying to do multiple things at once - i cant do one thing at a time, even when im say writing a paper i need to be listening to music or talking to someone if not switching between tabs or word files

mood swings

hyperfocus - oh boy oh boy oh boy

impulsiveness - i dont know if i get better as i age or is it getting worse i just know how to clean up my mess lmaooooo

poor time management - although i would say ever since i start listening to stuff 24/7 it really helps build a sense of the passage of time or whatever? its like now i know ok by the time i get to the third song in the shower i need to be washing out my conditioner; or say i need to go somewhere in 40 mins which is really abstract to me i set timers and put on a show thats 35ish mins even tho im not watching it just so im aware of time is actually happening if it makes sense

fail to follow through - i start things and once i have it figure out in my head i struggle to put it down in words or explain it to others i work well with other adhd peps tho

doesnt follow instruction and only do stuff their way

burnout - this is the worst especially if you are a perfectionist or a control freak and guess who is both 

trouble coping with stress - 

i luck out because im canadian and my doctor (in my schools clinic) just so happens to be a specialist who is very passionate about helping undergrads and grad school students to achieve as much as they can - so doctor and diagnosis for me is free. i do have to pay for my medications out of my pocket for a bit since im on vyvanse (to treat both my adhd and depression-lead anxiety its complicated but it makes sense when my doctor explained it to me lol) and this drug isnt covered by Pharmacare (CAD $130ish for 3 weeks worth of 30mg, im mostly on 30mg but on days when i dont have work on stuff or go to school i take 20mg just so my anxiety dont cause me to explode lmao) and very expensive but recently my doctor and i have agreed that vyvanse really work for me and it is something that i should be on daily for the foreseeable future we applied for special authorization which means i only gotta pay the tax… of course medicating isnt a must but it is what works for me and we figure out a way to make it affordable so i cant be more happy about that

at the same time i work with my psychiatrist to you know configure the whole adhd thing cause you know 21 years of repressing and forcing your feet into a shoes that not even your size frick you up thats something people dont tell you 🤷🏻‍♀️

what my doctor said to me then stuck with me - she told me adhd or add really is no monster or flaw in fact it is a very valuable set of traits we inherit from our ancestor - we hate it now because modern society render these skills useless well you see adhd isnt all about the hyperactiveness you see in the media people with adhd are extra sensitive to their surrounding and prefer hands on experiences (today we call them distracted) they are always aware of the change around them and is capable to attend to a couple things at a time and act fast because their brains are always making sense of things even when they arent consciously doing it. in todays society we dont want these kind of people why? because they ask questions they are curious people who notice trivial stuff that dont contribute to productivity they cant sit still which makes them not the ideal factor workers or pupils BUT! you have to remember that industrialization started like a century ish ago before that our ancestors live in predominately tribal society - adhd people then are the perfect caretakers and protectors, why? because they are always noticing things they adapt and react fast… so yeah it kinda suck for us growing up in a system thats designed to be everything we are and it is something that need to be changed but for those of us who “made it out alive” especially people who only get diagnosed in adulthood more often than not they look back and realize they have developed so many incredible ways to cope to make things work - are they always the perfect way? are they always health? no definitely no but at the same time it shows you how incredible these people are they make things work yes things are really hard sometimes but you got to give yourself a pet in the shoulder for not giving up… with the help of science and research we now know a little more about how adhd affect people we now have medication and programs developed to help people with adhd - they arent to dumb you down or numb you but instead it helps you to focus better so you can actually hear your entire thought and not just phrases or sentence fragments

[fireandseaweed]

Eye Have No Eyedea What To Do! || Percy and Z

Z comes to Percy for advice after he blinds Terminus.

It had only been a day since the showdown between the Roman god of boundaries and the eldest demigod son of Hypnos. Legends always spoke of the victory of battle being sweet and well-deserved, but this was not one that Z had wanted nor was he proud to have ended at the top. He hadn’t done it for valor or for honor like the heroes of old. No; he couldn’t even consider himself to have been on the side of good. No good would come to New Rome or its citizens from what he’d done. There would be no warm welcomes or parades in his name. The only metal he’d be feeling would be the handcuffs they affixed around his wrists or the sharp blade that could find his neck if they performed executions here. He wouldn’t be very surprised. Z needed help. Death was not an absolution he wanted to find himself chained to. His first instinct told him to fill Wally in, but he had doubt that the man could do much other than attempt to physically comfort him. He didn’t need arms wrapping around him and telling him things were going to be okay; he needed solutions, both good and bad. That desire led him to the doorstep of the people he knew would be able to provide him unbiased options. He knocked softly with one hand, the other latched around the strap of his satchel.

Percy shifted off of the sofa in his front room and moved towards their door. When he opened it to reveal Z’s face, he had to admit that he was slightly surprised. Raising an eyebrow, Percy smiled at him. “Zed,” he said quietly with a smile slowly trickling across his face, “it is a pleasure to see you, I hope you’re doing well, although you look a little down…” he trailed off gently and shrugged, “is there anything that I can do for you?” he asked with a yawn. He’d slept poorly the previously night, fears and nightmares keeping him awake long into the early hours of the morning before he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

The person that opened the door wasn’t the half of the equation Z had been hoping to see first, but both were extremely welcome faces in a time of unrest. “I need your...advice,” he said immediately after being asked, eyes wide and full of jaded hope that maybe whatever happened next would help alleviate some of the weight that was anchored so harshly on his shoulders. Z’s grip of his satchel tightened, feet shuffled beneath him, and he tried his best to give a smile. It ended up looking more like he was in pain. “I should preface with please don’t be mad at me.”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Percy held the door open for Z. “Come on in,” he said wandering off towards their shared kitchen and pulling down a pair of mugs. “Tea, coffee …. Or hot chocolate, sometimes it is just a hot chocolate kind of morning?” he pulled out a bag of marshmallows and produced some squirty cream. “What do you want?” he paused for a moment as he began to grab tea spoons. “I’m not sure I’m the best advisor, a literal daughter of the goddess of wisdom is probably who you were after, but I’ll listen at least, although I can’t promise not to get mad if this is really terrible. But like, as long as you didn’t kick an elephant or something…”

Z nodded when instructed to come inside. He let his legs carry him through the threshold of the Percy’s home and he stood, awkwardly, in the space between the living area and the kitchen. His fingers flexed around the strap of his satchel. “Coffee, please,” the man replied. Caffeine was certainly counterproductive to what his overall goal was: a night’s rest. However, he’d prefer not having to consciously think about keeping his eyes open when he’s about to share information about a crime. “I believe I’ve committed a felony.” Z immediately reached for his satchel to pull out the piece of parchment that had been given to him by the raven. The ink that waited inside had shifted as time passed, no longer detailing the exact thing whoever sent it wanted Z to do, but the threat still remained. He proposed that it had something to do with them not wanting it to get back to them. All in all, it was rather crafty. That was a major part of the initial problem. “No...no, I’m sure it’s a felony. Felony...committed from blackmail? I don’t think that will hold up in court.”

Frowning gently, Percy pulled down what he needed to make Z’s coffee and began the work of art that was hot chocolate making. If Z wasn’t going to indulge then he certainly would. “Well,” Percy said frowning gently as he tried to imagine exactly what it was that Z could’ve done to get himself in trouble, “I can’t really give you any real advice on what you should do in this situation until I know exactly what it is that you’ve done wrong. Particularly considering that several things which are now felonies in New Rome are pretty dumb and trivial, you might not be in a lot of trouble.” He wondered why Z had warned him not to be mad. He was sure that it was because of something other than a trivial felony that someone could consider it making him mad.

“Right, then.” Z lessened the distance between them and set the paper on the counter for Percy to peruse, all while looking down at his feet. His hands moved to open up his satchel and he pulled out a single opaque jar. The glass itself was foggy, preventing any eyes from seeing its contents. He set it up on the counter as well, but his sights never left the object. “I was given that note with very clear instructions...that I have already completed and I don’t know what to do,” he told the other demigod. “I can’t go to the Senate because I think whoever is blackmailing me might be affiliated with them...or hold some sort of power here in New Rome.”

Taking the paper from the counter, Percy scanned it a frown furrowing his brow. The message seemed intimidating to say the least. The wording was almost similar to that used by the Senate, although that didn’t mean anything. “So they wanted you to do something to remove the pommerian line?” he scratched at his stubble before finishing their drinks and handing a cup of  coffee over to Z. “So, I assume you did something? What did you put Terminus to sleep?” he asked curiously. He topped his hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows before taking a sip. Wiping whipped cream off of his top lip and the hair that sat there. “What exactly did they blackmail you with?” he asked, almost afraid to ask.

As Percy read, Z’s eyes continued to linger solely on the jar. Just thinking about the contents made his chest tighten and his stomach ache, like at any moment he’d turn over and spill yesterday’s meal on Percy’s rather clean floor. That would be the second biggest crime he committed in the past week. “No...Well, yes; I did make him sleep...but it didn’t last very long. Funny thing! I’ve found that I can put a god to sleep, but only for a few minutes at a time.” He paused for a moment. “I was able to hypnotize him. He told me that as long as he could see, the line would be held so I...I removed them—his eyes, I mean. They’re in the mason.” When he attempted to inhale, he realized it was hard to breathe. “They threatened to take my siblings. Both mortal. I don’t know how they knew but they did. They gave me less than four hours.”

The realisation of exactly what had happened hit Percy all at once. Glancing from the note, to the mason jar and then to Z. He took a deep breath and then repeated the exercise. His eyes finally dropped back down to his own drink. Struggling for words, he paused for a second before eventually speaking. “You stole a god’s eyes?” he asked gazing at the mason jar with a sudden tenderness. He’d never been this close to an actually godly body part when it was seperated from its body. “Sorry this is a bit much,” he bit his lip and shook his head, “okay, so they black mailed you into doing this, who exactly is they? And why would they want you to do this? Other than raising the pommerian line of course.” He started pacing back and forth in their tiny kitchen, trying to work it out.

All of the questions Percy posed were ones that Z could not very well answer with any certainty. He wasn’t even sure the word ‘stole’ could be correct, considering steal referred to something possessed and someone’s eyes were part of the body. It was more like he mutilated a god. “I told you everything I know...all I have left is speculation,” he told him, rubbing at his neck. “I’m not even sure if they’ve gone forth and taken Arlo and Harmony anyway. I have no way of knowing anything.” Z looked down, then. “That’s why I came here. I was hoping that you...and Annabeth, of course, would know what to do with all of this.”

Percy wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to having other people come to him for advice. But it seemed to be happening more and more often. Once upon a time he’d have made an excuse and called Annabeth, but who knew what could happen before she got here. “Okay, so just to make sure that I’m following, some anonymous group delivered a message and threatened to hurt your mortal siblings,” he took a breath remembering Gabby and her pudgy smile, her thick dark locks and her bright brown eyes, “effectively blackmailing you into cutting Terminus’ eyes out and in effect removing the pommerian line.” He tried to think like Annabeth and reached into his pocket, pulling out his pen. “Well, Riptide is here,” he said pulling the cap from it and watching it spring into a full celestial bronze sword, “which I’d say seems to support your theory. As you’re not exactly the type to mutilate anything for no reason, let alone the Roman god of boundaries, I’m going to believe you on the blackmailing thing.” He paused for a second. “Do you remember anything else?”

The next minute consisted of Percy listing something within his recap of the items that had been presented to him and Z affirming them with a soft ‘yes’ followed by a nod of his head. It was a lot to take in, he was sure. The fact that the doctor had dealt with all of this in less than twenty-four hours of him coming to Percy now was really an achievement in, and of, itself. He took a step back when the man’s signature pen turned into a beautiful sword, but idly, his neck began to ache. Would he suffer a punishment from a blade crafted like that? “Splendid,” he murmured, eyes wide and rimmed with pink at the tear ducts. “The ink on the page had moved before. It showed images of Arlo and Harmony, but before they flashed away, it seemed like they were looking right at me. I’m not sure if that means anything...It could be nothing.” Something dawned on him and he furrowed his brow. “Also...I hypnotized a lot of people to get to Terminus, borrowed the branch from the Hypnos Cabin, and used it on Terminus so that he wouldn’t remember who took his eyes. I returned the branch though, promise…”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Percy listened carefully to exactly what Z had to say. It was a lot to take in, but someone had taken advantage of a Greek. Someone had forced him to do something in the name of protecting his family and now they had left him to clean up the mess. But everything from the pain in Z’s eyes to the fact that he didn’t look like he’d ever sleep again, it all convinced him that he had to really do something here. “Listen, Z, what you went through wasn’t pretty but it wasn’t your decision. You were doing what you had to to help Arlo and Harmony,” he paused and scratched his chin before pulling out his phone and holding it out for Z. “If you want, you can put their addresses in here and I’ll get my friend Grover to look into them, he’s a lord of the Wild so he can actually find out where they are and if they’re safe a lot faster than we could.” He bit his lip for a moment, before taking the mason and looking at it. “Whoever blackmailed you is probably coming after this next,” he said gingerly, still terrified of seeing Terminus’ eyes floating about.

Words of affirmation left Percy and it took a lot in Z not to simply lose it right there. The last thing he thought he’d receive from anyone was understanding; not even he could offer that to himself. He felt more akin to a monster than a person. What he was capable of, he hoped no one else would ever have to find out. “Yes, of course,” he managed to get out before he wrapped a hand around the phone offered to him. He thought for a moment, eyes closed, as he attempted to peer through his own memories and find out the addresses of his siblings. Once he’d done so, he typed them out and set the phone back on top of the counter. The next problem that hung over his head was the jar. “I figured I would hide them, even from myself, until I knew my siblings were safe and then return them to Terminus.” His face showed a mix of fear and resolution. “I’m not sure what fate would be worse...them finding this, or the Senate.”

Biting his lip, Percy sighed. “I’m not sure how easy returning eyes to a god is going to be, I mean it doesn’t work like that for mortals and demigods so there really is no guarantee that it will work in the same way with divine beings but I guess we never know. I always just assumed that Terminus would be able to regenerate but apparently not…” he frowned gently and stroked his stubble as he considered the situation that they were in. “The Senate for the moment claims to be serving Rome. The Pommerian line stops them from actually having to police the city for any real sort of violent crime, so I guess that means that they would want to return the eyes, but I don’t trust them and neither should you.” He frowned and sighed. “Would you like me to keep them for the moment?” he asked as he took his phone off of Z and saved the details that he would later send to Grover. “I can keep them safe and somewhere that you won’t know the location of…” The idea of actually keeping a god’s eyes was repugnant. But Z was his friend as well as Annabeth’s and he wasn’t going to let a friend in need down. Not now, not ever.

Childishly, Z had clung to the idea that the return would be as smooth as the removal. He’d grab the branch again, approach the god of boundaries, and insert his eyes after hypnotizing him. Terminus would be at a disadvantage without any optics, given that Z could bypass the need to form a visual link if he could simply get close enough to make physical contact. Realizing that such a mission may not even be possible only made him feel worse. He’d not only temporarily disposed of the god, he had potentially done permanent damage. What would become of the Roman’s boundaries without Terminus? What would become of New Rome? “I...I would like that very much,” he said softly, reaching already to fold the letter up and place it in his satchel. “I’m terribly sorry for unloading this on you...especially now. Things are only getting worse here and people on your side are losing a battle and I’m here asking you to put yourself in more danger. I just…” He fought the urge to sink his teeth into his lower lip. “I’m not equipped for any of this. Whoever sent this knew more about what I was capable of than I did. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Not again. This was too much.”

The pain that Percy saw in Z was incredible. It was crippling, heart wrenching. Truly terrible pain that he didn’t possibly know how to comprehend. Seeing that sort of pain and doing nothing about it was something that Percy couldn’t possibly do. He’d never been good at ignoring the suffering of others, especially those who he counted amongst friends. “Don’t apologise, you didn’t deserve to go through any of this. No one deserves to have their family threatened.” He sighed gently, he couldn’t imagine what he would do if he encountered a situation like this. His family was everything to him. “I’ll do what I can to keep this as safe as possible,” he promised, sliding the mason jar closer to him and stashing it in a cupboard for now. He would bury it beneath the lake later. “You won’t have to hurt anyone again, we’ll put things in place that will protect your family. If this happens again we will be ready for it this time.”

“Sorry,” Z muttered a moment after Percy spoke, the word leaving him softly and privately. The word of apology was like a silent prayer, one that was spoken over and over again because each time made him feel smaller. Small was good. Small didn’t get noticed by less than savory forces intent on turning him into a weapon. “Thank you, Percy.” He set his eyes on the other man, trying his best to give him a smile but it looked more like he was bracing himself for something bad to happen. His eyes were already getting misty. Maybe there was a chance for things to turn around. “Thank you so much.”

Stepping around the counter, Percy reached out and hugged Z. It looked like he needed a hug. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do about this, but they would fix this in one way or another. “For what it is worth,” he said quietly with a sad smile, “I forgive you, not that any of this could really be blamed on you, I hope that in time you learn to forgive yourself for the things that you will have to do to survive this world. None of this is going to be easy. But you’re a survivor.” He stepped away and placed an arm on Z’s shoulder. “What else are friends for if not for taking on godly parts and protecting them from the potential forces of evil?” he laughed gently and tried to smile, “No offense, but you’re not exactly qualified in this area. Everything will be fine.”

Among the things Z had expected when approaching Percy and Annabeth’s doorstep, a hug or any sort of equivalent embrace was not among them. He had expected scolding and then solutions. To receive solutions and then affirmation was certainly relieving, but it also seemed to only make him feel more guilty. Z was monstrous and Percy still forgave him. He wasn’t deserving of that. “If I ever doubted your charisma before, I certainly can’t now,” he mused, trying to lighten his tone as he gave the smile a second attempt. His shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath and he squeezed the strap of his satchel. “The hero business isn’t really my expertise. I’m thankful that there are people here like you and Annabeth, or Jason or, I assume, Reyna and Frank. You do a lot for us...I just hope I don’t become another reason for them to hate us.”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Percy shrugged. “My charisma was never really in doubt though was it,” he said, trying to lighten the mood slightly. Shrugging gently, he tapped the top of the counter top. “Some people are going to hate you regardless of what you do Z, what you have to learn to do is to decide who is worth fighting for and why you are fighting. I fight because of my friends, my family and because after this many years New Rome has become my home, I’m no more a  hero than anyone else who can say the same.”

If Z were of clear conscience and a lack of distress, he wouldn’t have hesitated to dramatically roll his eyes at the man in front of him. Instead, he tipped his head to the side. “I haven’t met a hero of Olympus who didn’t have questionable charisma,” he teased half-heartedly. What Percy said resonated with him, though. He had to pick a side eventually. As much as he cared for being neutral, his reason exploits were going to force him into the fray regardless of whether he fought or stood at the side. “I don’t want to fight.” The words left him so fast, he scrambled to put them back. They hung in the air like a wet blanket cast out to dry. “...I never wanted that, but I don’t have much choice now, do I?” A dead chuckle wisped out of him.

Taking a breath, Percy gazed at Z and wondered how best to put what he was about to say. “Well that makes me feel slightly better,” he admitted before scratching at the hairs on his face. “You don’t have to fight, you can help people in your own way. You’ve got medical training, you’re intelligent, we don’t just need fighters….” he sighed gently. “I fear if whoever this was is willing to go to these lengths to get your assistance now, then they’re going to be willing to do something like this again. That sort of evil can’t be left unchecked. You always have a choice, you can always do the right thing too.” He moved back to his now cold hot chocolate and sipped it before wincing. “Not as good cold,” he explained placing it in the microwave. “I have every faith in you Z.”

Z was thankful to have run into Percy and Annabeth. To have people who are well versed in this world meant there was a foundation to lean on when things caved in. It also meant he had people to look up to, heroes to idolize, who would serve as inspiration to which people like him could draw strength. He wanted to return their favor with as much help as he could. It was why he continued to help Annabeth and why, for the first time today, his heart felt lighter with hope. “I will—do the right thing, I mean,” he said softly, rubbing at his neck again. “Starting with taking up no more of your time, Mister Percy. I...have some things I must attend to. Thank you, again...What you’re doing for me...and the faith you have in me...I’ll never be able to repay, but I will work tirelessly to try.”

[lattefics]

your whisper stilled my heart: ch. 3

Summary: Vex has been raised by her dedicated father, Saundor, since she was stolen away to the Feywild as a babe. Saundor has now requested she steal a mortal soul from the material plane.

Rating: Teen+

Total Words: 7500

Warnings: Child grooming, emotional abuse, kidnapping

--

Vax blinked a few times in the direction the woman had run off in. He could feel his mind flailing, the thousands of urges that warred inside him, words rising and falling in waves as he stared at the cobblestone streets until the woman disappeared around the corner.

His chest hurt. Vax looked down at himself, putting a shaky hand over his heart. There was a sharp pain, like someone twisting a thin knife between his ribs, jostling it with each flashing image of the woman through Vax's mind.

By the time he shook himself and looked around with clear eyes, she was nowhere to be found. Vax cursed at himself.

It was a strange coincidence, one that roiled deep in Vax's belly and nested uncomfortably at the base of his spine. His first thought had been holy shit that looks like me who is that a mirror no wait she's a woman but and then she'd run and he hadn't been able to go anywhere with the thought.

His second thought– he wasn't sure but it was the most obvious among the myriad of things flying through his head– was actually a memory, the knowledge trickling in like a river; he'd had a sibling when he was born, who had died of sickness, but his mother had said many times how she wished they were in a good place and happy in their rest. Vax had thought many times how sad it was, that she'd been given two children only to lose one within days, but also relieved; they had little money to spare to begin with and one less child was more coin for his mother to spend on what she needed for herself and Vax.

He shook himself and pulled his mask back into place, his hood over his slick, messy hair. It was a silly thought, that somehow his dead twin had come back. His mother had shown him the little plot behind their house where the infant had been buried when they passed, and Vax had spent a few years trying to grow a garden around it before giving up on the constantly dying plants. 

He knew the child was dead.

The woman he'd just seen was nothing more than a weird coincidence.

He brushed himself off one last time and turned back the way he'd been going, pausing as he did. On the ground was the brooch he'd just sold to the pawn shop, shining in the afternoon light. He bent down, tilting it this and that in his hand.

So. That was what she'd meant by thanking him.

Why she would give back something he'd just sold– something she had clearly bought immediately after– was beyond Vax, but he wouldn't question it. The stupid piece of jewelry from his father's house would fetch another pretty penny; maybe next time he'd ask for more than fifty, since it was clearly worth more.

He slipped the brooch into his bag and kept walking. He'd never had much patience for haggling, and it bit him in the ass sometimes. The fifty gold he had was nice, but between meals and finding places to sleep that had actual roofs and weren't crawling with bugs, it would be gone inside a month, maybe two if he stretched himself thin. And he had that dumb bear to worry about, too.

The farther Vax walked, the more he was forced to slow, a hand coming up to grip at his shirt. Pain had fluttered to life, pulsing weakly just under his ribs. Vax frowned at it, pressing on, looking for a place he could grab a meal without anyone noticing him. He wasn't in the rich part of the city yet– he hated that goddamn area– but if he went much farther he might start to get strange looks for his outfit, so Vax veered, going deeper into the current neighborhood.

Damn, but his chest stung. He stopped, dipping into an alleyway and leaning on a large building wall as he pulled his collar down. Had the tiefling stabbed him somewhere? But no, there were no cuts or stab wounds, or even any bruising that he could see. The pain was like a dozen sharp pin pricks, digging into his bones and spiking every time he moved. Vax frowned and breathed deep, hoping the pain would fade if he rested a moment.

It didn't; if anything, it got worse. Vax hissed to himself and stepped back onto the street. He'd have to deal with it for now if he was going to grab some food for himself and Trinket, cursing his stupid self for even caring about the animal. He was a bear and could very well have hunted for himself, if he didn't insist on staying as close to the city as possible and waiting for Vax to come back every day. He'd go thin from lack of hunting if Vax didn't feed him.

There were a few food vendors in this part of the city, and Vax scoped out the most vulnerable ones, the stands that were too busy to notice missing stock or staffed by someone with too much time and boredom on their hands. Despite the still pressing pain that rose in his chest with every step, Vax shifted his stance, moving his weight to the balls of his feet to slip quietly between the people on the street, sidling up to a stand selling baked goods.

The clerk, an older woman, didn't even glance in his direction as he walked slightly too close to the stand. While she helped a young child buying pastries, Vax slipped a loaf of bread and a few muffins into his bag, walking away without a scratch on him.

He did the same with a fruit stand and a butcher's stall, carrying away a bushel of apples and dried jerky that would please Trinket. He took one piece for himself, munching on it when he was safely away from his targets. It . . . it hurt, going down his throat. Vax paused, biting off another chunk of meat with a frown. It scrapped raw inside him, like it was edged with spikes, and he tucked the food away to take out his water skein and take a long swig.

That hurt too, like swallowing lead, and Vax nearly choked the water back up in shock. What the hell, he was just trying to eat! Vax coughed and capped the water again, a hand going up to his throat to feel around it. No bruising, and he wasn't sick, hadn't been for a few weeks at least. If he'd somehow caught a cold he wouldn't be able to afford the medicine for it.

And yet, spending the coin he would need for it seemed trivial as the stabbing pain in his chest rose up. Vax coughed again, needle sharp pricks digging hard against his ribs, like something small and weak and desperate was clawing at his insides. Fuck, shit, he couldn't remember the last time something had hurt this badly.

Vax hurried out of the street, taking a side path between buildings and ducking into an alcove, out of sight. The needles in his chest kept digging, clawing, like it was trying to rip his ribs out. He blinked a few times, slapped a hand against his chest, but there was no relief to be found.

It twisted sharply and Vax stumbled. His chest throbbed and his head started to pound, a moment before he lost himself completely to blackness.

--

He woke up in a bed, and his first thoughts were, fuck, shit, damn it. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, trying to sit up, but his chest still ached and moving felt like when he tried to push Trinket anywhere after the bear had decided, no, it was staying, and plopped his furry ass on the ground.

“Oh! Oh, don't move, please!” A high, delicate voice called out to him, ringing slightly in Vax's confused ears. He huffed, gathering enough of his wits to turn his head and see a very concerned, wide eyed gnome standing next to his bed. “You're up!” she said, smiling at him. Her hair was as bright as the rays of the sun and her smile nearly matched, though there was a waver to it as she watched him. “Are you . . . feeling all right?”

“No,” Vax said immediately, because she was a stranger and he didn’t give a damn about politeness when he didn’t even know where he was. 

“Oh! I'm so sorry, um.” She fluttered a little, shifting between his head and his body, which was twice as big as hers. She was wearing armor, a thick plate set, but the gauntlets had been taken off and her hands were only covered in thin white gloves. “I tried to take a look at you but you weren't bleeding and didn't have any trauma signs that I could see, so I just cast a spell and let you rest.”

. . . ah. Cleric. That made more sense, then.

“Well,” Vax said with a sigh, “whatever power fantasy trip you get out of helping the needy, you can end it right here, because I'm fine and I need to go.” Trinket would still be waiting for him, and who knew how far this bed was from where Vax had apparently fainted.

“What?” the gnome woman turned to him with round, offended eyes, her nose crinkled up adorably in her disgust. “I'm just trying to help.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Vax got his arms underneath him and tried again to sit up, this time with more success as his head cleared, though the twinge in his chest was still there. He hissed as he sat up, patting over his chest with one hand.

“What's wrong?” the woman asked, her tone much more serious as she stepped closer, shoving Vax's hand rudely away to press her own over it. “This hurts? Where? How much?”

“Get off!” Vax snapped, trying to push her back, but when he did she just braced herself against the floor and didn't move. Vax almost crumpled at the unexpectedness of it, his hands twinging as his wrist muscles protested against the hard push on her torso that went exactly nowhere.

“You better do as she says. She knows better than all of us.”

Vax tensed, and turned around slowly.

Someone else had joined them; a human man, taller than Vax, and thinner, with shock white hair and a long, blue coat. He was leaning against the open doorway with an infuriating smirk, and the glasses he wore– four lenses instead of two, a pair of smaller ones attached to the corners of the actual glasses– tipped down his nose as he tilted down to look at the gnome woman. “How's he doing?”

“Stubborn,” she replied with a sniff. “He won't tell me what's wrong.”

“I'm still here,” Vax reminded them loudly. “And I feel fine, so let me go.”

“You clearly don't. I didn't just cast healing spells on you.” The woman's eyes were hard as steel when she met his own. “I know about the curse so you can go ahead and forget about pretending it doesn't exist.”

“C– curse?” Vax sputtered, brows furrowing. “I'm not cursed! Let me leave. If it's money you want I can give you some, all right?” Not that he wanted to throw his hard earned coin at people who had been nothing but rude assholes, but Vax might not have a choice at the moment. 

“Oh, my, he doesn't seem to know.” The man in the doorway shoved off at the hip, sauntering across the room to the small cot Vax still lay on. “Tell me, did you interact with anyone strange lately? Or perhaps commit a crime that you might have gotten an excessive punishment for?”

Vax snorted, refusing to look at either of them. Crime was practically his middle nam at this point; he couldn't remember one from the next if he tried.

The man hummed, tapping a hand against the side of his face, and looked back down at the gnome woman. “Do you have anything that could knock him out again? It might serve us better to try and figure this out while he's asleep.”

“Oi!” Vax snapped, shoving the blankets off his legs. Wherever they were, it was colder than he liked, and he had to fight off a shiver. “This isn't any of your business, all right?” he said, swinging his legs over the side to stand up. “Even if I did have a curse, I don't know who you are so it's not any of your business.”

“But–” the gnome woman started.

“No,” the human man cut in, “if he wants to leave that's his business.” He met Vax's eyes, his own a steely blue behind his ridiculous glasses. “Nevermind that we could potentially help remove such a dangerous curse and give him some peace of mind.”

Vax's mind jumped to the woman, his dead sibling, the sharp pain still eating at the inside of his chest. He put a hand over it, hissing quietly. “I don't–” He inhaled sharply, and repeated, “I don't have any money to pay you, so drop it. I'm fine.”

“We could still–”

“Pike, stop.” The human put a hand on her shoulder. “There's no use forcing him. The door is that way,” he pointed, “and down the hallway on the left. Your, uh . . . pet is waiting for you.”

His pet . . . Vax's eyes went wide.

“Okay, yeah, sorry, I'm outta here. Thanks for the help or whatever but I really need to go.” He hurried past them, clipping the human man on the way out as he scurried out the door and down the hall, shoving the second door open to reveal the city street.

Trinket was there, sitting back on his haunches, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Next to him was a tall, lean woman, her hands around his neck to scratch and ruffle his fur. She had long, gorgeous red hair and a circlet with massive antlers attached, giving her the effect of looking like the world's most beautiful deer.

Vax skirted to a stop, his eyes glued to her. 

She paused in petting Trinket, the little coos she'd been giving him dying in her throat as she looked up and met Vax's eyes. “Oh, hi,” she said, shrinking into herself. “Are you doing okay? Pike said you were really sick and that it might be something dangerous and if she couldn't do anything, I have these herbs that might help–”

“My bear,” Vax blurted, because he had no sense of subtlety. “You, uh. You're petting my bear.”

“Huh? Oh! I'm sorry, should I not have?” The woman's hands shot away and she backed up from Trinket a step, the motion jerking her hair out of place. Vax could see her ears now, with their familiar, rounded point. Shit, she was a half-elf, too. As if he needed reasons to like her more. 

Trinket blinked when the petting stopped and turned to the stranger, pushing against her arm to seek out more attention.

“No, I mean.” Vax swallowed. “It's fine. He's not, ah, he's not really mine, either. I was just . . . surprised, is all. He's never come into the city before.” 

“No?” Keyleth raised a brow as she tentatively reached out to scratch Trinket's nose again. “We only found you because there was a lot of noise and everyone talking about this scary bear watching over some unconscious half-elf. He's not scary at all though! He told me he was worried about you.” She leaned closer, nuzzling her face against Trinket's. “He's a sweet baby, said he loves you.”

Vax's eyes narrowed. “He's a bear. He doesn't talk.”

“Of course not! I talked to him,” she said, like that made any more sense. “Like this!” 

Something happened that Vax couldn't quite detect, but there was a shift as the woman brought a hand to her throat. Her back hunched a few degrees, her eyes were a little less focused, and when she looked at Trinket again she started making bear noises. And not just a person trying to mimic a bear, she sounded like an actual bear.

Vax took a step back at the same time the front door of the small building opened again and the human man stepped out with his gnome friend.

“Ah, she's talking to him again,” he said, as casual as mentioning the weather. “I wonder what they're saying now.”

“She likes him a lot!” The gnome woman– Pike?– stepped up beside Vax, smiling up at him. “She talked to him the whole time we were carrying you here.” 

“Where is 'here',” Vax asked weakly, still watching the woman chat with Trinket.

“Near the edge of the city, north side,” the human said. “We'll be going soon, though, so we'll be out of your hair.”

“Who's house . . .?”

“An abandoned one. We just wanted a place to look at you, with that nasty curse business.”

Vax fluffed up. “I'm not cursed.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Any rebuttal he could give the white haired prick was cut off as the woman looked up, her brow furrowed as whatever spell she'd used faded away and she straightened up. “Why are you still here?!” she asked Vax, her shoulders tensing. 

The swift change in attitude hit Vax like a brick, and he gaped. “Um, I . . .”

“I mean I know you're hurt and all but after what Trinket said I'm surprised you didn't just grab him and run! We've gotta go, now.”

“What the fuck did the bear tell you?” Vax snapped.

The half-elf woman looked close to tears. “That your sister is dying!”

[zeejax]

the one body problem

so here’s a little hurt/comfort type fic i wrote for @whycraft’s “the three body problem”! if you haven’t read that, you totally should. it’s really fantastic.

When Poultry Man joined them, tensions seemed to go down quicker than before. Grian was still adjusting to sharing his body and the Watcher was still adjusting to needing someone else’s body. Poultry Man was just along for the ride. Of course, with three minds shoved together, you’d think there wasn’t much room for tension. They still managed.

Poultry Man was the one who pointed it out. Grian was asleep, and the other two tenants let their body rest where he’d left it. Inside the inky blackness of the mind, there wasn’t much to do but talk— so they did.

but you know what i am talking about, don’t you?

Watcher sighed for what must’ve been the third time.

Yes, I suppose there are still some disconnects. It’s to be expected, considering Grian and I are so different from one another. It was worse before you.

Poult was dissatisfied with this response.

you misunderstand. it’s not annoyance. it’s different. he feels it with me.

Oh, so your entire basis for believing that there’s something wrong with Grian is that he couldn’t possibly find you annoying? Watcher laughed as they felt Poult bristle.

no! Poultry Man paused. He was never very good with words, but he knew there was something else off about Grian’s feelings towards his two stowaways. Watcher was quiet now, and Poult realised he had projected these thoughts to the other.

Well, that’s one way to get around being bad with words.

I do know what you mean, The Watcher said with more sincerity. I let it be. I don’t… know how to address his… feelings, they admitted, quieter. They felt their anxiety spike as silence filled the empty space.

Poult? They called after a few seconds.

hm.

…Hm?

yes. hm.

Watcher grew impatient, but Poultry Man mentally shushed them before they could interrupt his thoughts again. Startled at being shushed, they actually shut up. Hand it to a chicken-based vigilante to successfully shut down a timeless being.

we both agree that it is a bad feeling, Poult said after some time.

Yes.

and we both agree that it is not a normal feeling.

Yes, Watcher said. We’re three people stuck in his body, though, so we don’t exactly have a “normal,” is what they didn’t say. The thought resounded through the deep darkness anyway.

At that moment, Grian turned onto his side. His eyes blinked open.

“Oh,” he said out loud, “thanks for actually letting me sleep guys!” The two mentally nodded at him. They could feel his surprise at waking in the same place he had fallen asleep. As the three began a new day, Poultry Man and the Watcher mutually decided to put away their concerns. That didn’t mean they didn’t keep an eye out.

The phenomenon of becoming more aware of things after your attention has been brought to it can be intense. Since the Watcher and Poultry Man had acknowledged the strangeness among the three of them, they felt like they were being slapped in the face with it. Over and over again, it sparked, causing awkward gaps in conversations and ending a significant amount of them. The three were used to almost constantly chat— it was hard not to talk to the voices in your head— but in the days following, it was strained. Grian knew something was up, and the other two knew he knew, but none of them said anything. Grian assumed that since he didn’t just know what the others were thinking, it was either a very small thing or a very big thing. Either small enough that they weren’t thinking about it too much, or big enough that they were actively making sure he couldn’t catch onto their thoughts. As difficult as it was, he couldn’t let himself dwell on the matter, as it would certainly be noticed. Little did he know, that only exacerbated the problem.

Soon enough, the Watcher and Poultry Man got another opportunity to talk. The scene was identical as the last time— the only time that the Watcher felt confident that Grian wasn’t listening was when he slept.

It’s become worse, hasn’t it? Poultry Man nodded. I can’t tell if it’s actually more frequent, or if we’re just more aware.

no. it’s worse. i was already aware of it and it wasn’t as bad.

As much as Watcher liked to feel superior over the other two, they were sure that being inside of a player was corrupting them. They were noticing time now (absolutely atrocious) and on top of that, they felt something towards him! Something bad but good at the same time. It ate at them and they thought that maybe it was the reason they were actually concerning themself with the trivial matters of a player’s feelings. Watcher wanted nothing more than the feeling to leave, but at the same time, they wanted Grian’s bad feeling to go away even more.

oh my god! Poultry Man suddenly called out. He had an air of excitement about him. oh my god! you’re worried!

What? No I’m not— I don’t even… Maybe? What? Shut up.

no, no you shut up. i get it now.

Get what? Get being rude? The Watcher huffed.

no! shut up! he’s worried!

The Watcher paused.

Oh.

yeah. oh.

Wait what? How do you know?

it’s the same thing that we’re feeling— Poult mentally shushed Watcher again as they started to protest the notion of feeling things— and we couldn’t tell because it must’ve been… blending or something…?

Very elegant deduction.

do you have any better ideas?

The Watcher was silent.

thought so.

They both thought about it, and sure enough, it made sense. All of the times that the conversation would veer towards their situation, or Grian himself, and that sickening worry would fill their collective mind. Although the source was Grian, emotions are just as physical as they are mental. It would be impossible for the other inhabitants of the body to not feel at least a portion of the others’ emotions. Once they noticed the awkwardness, all three would feel worried, and the conversation would stop dead in its tracks. It was a horrible cycle that they were stuck in, and there was only one way out of it.

we have to talk to Grian, Poultry Man and the Watcher thought simultaneously. Watcher slapped themself in the face.

Why are emotions so complicated? It was all of our faults? How does that even work?

Poult sighed fondly and set a metaphorical hand on Watcher’s shoulder.

you have much to learn, young one.

Watcher sputtered and Poult started laughing.

What? “Young one?” Do you understand how old I am?

… Why are you laughing? Are you dumb?

Stop laughing! I am thousands of years older than you!

Watcher started to get angry, but felt the warmth radiating from Poult. They couldn’t help but relax with Poultry Man finding such joy. They let the confusing comment slide.

okay, but seriously, we need to find out why he’s so anxious.

I agree. End this godforsaken cycle of hell.

… you really hate feeling things, don’t you?

Oh, no. I absolutely love it. I think this experience has proved very fun!

alright, alright, i get it. anyway, we should ask him when we get the next opportunity.

The Watcher paused. What exactly constituted as the next opportunity? Was there a right time for this kind of thing?

… Sure.

don’t worry. i’ve got this, Poult said, and Watcher actually believed him. He seemed to get this stuff, and the less emotions shit Watcher had to deal with, the better.

Just as perfectly timed as last time, Grian awoke. The transition, unlike last time, was much more rough. As soon as he drifted into consciousness, waves of stress coursed through their collective body. They felt him push down the anxiety and nervously greet them. Feigning casual attitudes, they observed as Grian instantly started collecting resources from the absurd shulker box mess beside his bed.

hey grian? Poult gently poked at him.

Yeah? He replied, distractedly.

do you think you might be forgetting some things?

Watcher, who had silently been following, noticed a slight haltedness in Grian’s movements. The level of anxiety that sometimes plagued him was pretty standard, but usually Grian was transparent in his feelings. They both knew he had issues managing the overpowering worry, but he was typically healthy and open about the stress he felt. It was the recent severity and secrecy that caught the others’ attention.

What? Grian replied, stopping in his tracks. He seemed genuinely unsettled. Poult mentally glanced at Watcher and did his best to disarm Grian emotionally.

oh, it’s just… you just woke up.

Yeah? And?

maybe you should take it slow, eat something, wake up. you know, before you dive head first into… some project.

Grian seemed to calm, whatever conflict he had been anticipating proving nonexistent. He tried to brush off Poultry Man’s concern.

Psh, I’m fine. I’m not even that hungry.

Poultry Man glanced at Watcher again.

When was the last time you did eat? Or drink something? Or changed our clothes? Watcher joined in, catching onto Poult’s point. Seeing Grian get up and instantly skip to work revealed another disturbing pattern. The presence of the slight fear had been right under their noses. That same thick uneasiness they’d been investigating this whole time had seeped into his basic self-care.

Grian didn’t really react that time, but he did stop what he was doing. He stood awkwardly and looked down— instinctively trying to avoid eye contact, but there was no one else there, physically. No escape. Poult and Watcher felt his face burn.

“Uh…” he said out loud, “I dunno. I couldn’t have been that long ago. I feel fine, I promise.”

I just really wanna get a move-on, okay? He finished silently. He maneuvered out of the shulker mess.

Look, Grian— Watcher started sternly, but before they could finish, Grian shot into the air and was heading for the exit of his base.

Grian! Stop for one second! We need to talk. They wooshed out into the open daylight.

Sorry, can’t really hear you, the wind’s in my ears!

Grian! I know that isn’t true! I’m a voice inside your head!

Grian ignored them.

come on, g, it’s fine. we just wanna talk about something—

Grian, quit messing around. Don’t ignore us!

Poultry Man quietly fussed at Watcher for yelling at Grian, but no one paid him any mind. Grian continued to play the silent game and pretend like he was casually flying about, while Watcher grew increasingly angry at being ignored.

That’s it! Watcher sighed frustratedly, and the other two gasped as the body dipped harshly.

Watcher, what the hell? We talked about this!

“No! This is important! Stop lying and I’ll give the body back!” Watcher yelled out loud.

are you kidding me? Poultry Man was cut off from telling off Watcher by Grian snatching control over the body again, this time diving dangerously close to the ground before regaining height.

“What do you mean, lying? I haven’t lied about anything!” Grian said, this time the one in control of their mouth. Watcher took over again, making Poult dizzy with the amount of swooping and near-misses.

this really isn’t the right way—

“Lying by omission is still lying!” Watcher said, their voice now strained and rough with both anger and adrenaline. Focused on not crashing and dying, their guard was down, and Grian easily grabbed the steering wheel once more. Sick with all of the head-spinning body switches, Poult gave up on mediating for the time being.

Watcher decided to give up as well. The entire plan— or lack thereof— was going completely sideways. There was no way they were going to be able to successfully express themselves, let alone calm and convince Grian to open up. Instead, Watcher pushed all of the concern and worry and care towards the presence that was Grian, hoping that the full picture would go through. A few seconds later, the two felt Grian go through a series of emotions. Surprise. Confusion. Affection. Regret.

Evidently, it worked.

Why didn’t we just do that in the first place? Watcher thought to themself, just as all three were hit with the answer. Literally. Distracted and disoriented, Grian smacked right into the front of Sahara. Luckily, they had lost enough momentum to prevent any serious damage. Rolling back a few feet, he forgot about the emotional turmoil for a second, paying more attention to his smashed face. Blood trickled from his broken nose, bringing tears to his eyes.

He recovered a bit and scooted backwards, sitting against the wall. Watcher and Poult stood by guiltily. They both were getting only a second-hand version of the pain, and Watcher felt responsible for the crash in the first place. Waiting for Grian to get his bearings, they tried to shower him in nonverbal comfort.

Registering the waves of kindness they were pushing onto him (or maybe it was just the nosebleed), Grian burst into tears. It felt like a floodgate being let open, all his worries and anxieties flowing out. The other two didn’t speak, letting him go first.

“I’m sorry,” he said through ugly cries, confusing the other two.

what are you sorry for?

Unable to speak, he just shook his head. Embarrassment saturated his mind, so heavy and raw that it almost physically hit Watcher and Poult. The anxiety that had been steadily building had reached a peak in the past few days due to the other two’s awareness of it, and they all felt it.

What… why are you embarrassed? You haven’t done anything wrong—

“I’m sorry you have to be stuck with my body!”

there’s nothing wrong with you, Poult said at the same time as The Watcher said, Why would we have a problem with your body?

Getting worked up again, Grian resorted to mentally speaking.

I’m not fast enough or strong enough, like the other hermits, or like you were, and there’s so many things I can’t do compared to you, and there’s so much more that I have to do that’s embarrassing and I just—

Grian, Grian, slow down. Why… why is this a problem? Of course you aren’t the same as us, why is this bothering you now?

It’s just… I’ve been thinking about how you were the one who taught me how to fly because you used to fly, but I have to use an elytra, and you used to say how inferior I am to you, and I just— I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s embarrassing to see myself, or to get tired, or have to eat and drink, when I know you’re there too, and you didn’t have to do any of that…

At this, Poult glared at Watcher, a “this is your fault, you fix it,” look.

Grian… I never meant for you to feel like that. I don’t want you to feel like that. Watcher hesitated nervously. I never wanted you to be ashamed of yourself and… I’m sorry.

Grian was quiet, but the embarrassment was still coming from him in waves. He took a shaky breath. Watcher decided to really drive it home.

I was just bitter. Back then, I mean. You really aren’t… inferior. I respect you. I don’t blame you for being alive.

Poultry Man, seemingly satisfied with Watcher’s amendments, chimed in.

all of us have to take care of ourselves. neither of us have ever thought poorly of you for being… well, you.

“You guys really mean that?” Grian said out loud, his voice choked up but coherent at least.

Yes.

of course.

After debating for a moment, Watcher decided to speak again.

Seriously though, could you please change our clothes or something? We stink.

Grian snorted and wiped at his eyes, wincing as he brushed his bruising face. Still reeling, he didn’t notice footsteps.

“Woah, Grian, you okay?” Xisuma called, jogging towards him.

ah, yes. i forgot we were in the middle of the shopping district.

“Yeah,” Grian sniffed as Xisuma helped him stand. He laughed tearfully up at Xisuma— the man looked totally freaked out. He awkwardly chuckled with Grian.

“Uh, you- you sure? You’re kinda, uh…” Xisuma nervously gestured, “a mess.”

Grian laughed again and shook his head. He smiled at Watcher and Poult.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m gonna be fine.”

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Nothin’ But Hos an’ Tricks

by Dan H

Saturday, 12 June 2010

Dan talks about “Rockstar Hypocrisy”~

A little while ago Viorica posted a link in the playpen to an article entitled

Six Things Red Dead Redemption Taught Me About (Hating) Women

.

I’ve already talked about this a bit on the playpen, so I won’t repeat myself here (so sorry if you’re reading this article in 2012 and haven’t got a clue what this is all about) but broadly I thought a lot of its criticisms were at best misguided and at worst wilfully misleading (I am still not certain it isn’t a parody, if it is it’s actually far more offensive than anything in the game).

Children of the Wasteland: A Little Gaming History

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away a company called Black Isle released a game called Fallout 2. In America, the towns and cities of the post-nuclear world were full of dirty, ragged looking children, playing in the streets and occasionally picking your pockets.

Fallout 2, like its predecessor, was a big, open-world game, in which you could pretty much go anywhere and do anything. You could also, it being an RPG, kill pretty much any NPC in the game (there was none of this “plot flag” nonsense you get so much of nowadays) and this included the kids.

For the European release, the producers were given an ultimatum: take the kids out or make them invulnerable. Making the kids invulnerable would – so the producers thought – undermine the player’s sense of immersion, as well as the go-anywhere do-anything quality which was such a selling point of their game (this was, I think, before the days of the “Sandbox” genre proper, but “exploring the world” was a much bigger feature of RPGs back then). So they took the kids out.

You can get a patch to put them back in, and on most of my playthroughs (plays-through?) of the game I’ve left the children – umm – unmolested. On the times when I’ve played an “evil” game, however, I have sometimes had occasion to take out the odd six-year old, which earned me the “childkiller” title and stopped some of the “good”-aligned NPCs from talking to me.

Perhaps I’m just dysfunctional, but I really do appreciate the choice. Having kids in the game makes the world feel more real, having those kids be invulnerable to shotgun fire would make the game feel less real. Ipso-facto I’m glad the game gives me the option to shoot them.

Go Anywhere, Do Anything, Kill Anyone

The “go anywhere, do anything, be a saint or be a mass murdering psychopath” vibe is an integral part of a sandbox game, be it a full on GTAalike or any game with a strong sandbox element. A common criticism of Oblivion was that it wouldn’t let you kill questgivers in case you “accidentally” cut yourself off from important questlines, which was probably a sensible choice all told, but which to a lot of people felt like unnecessary handholding. After all, if I’m the kind of guy who will shoot you in the face for looking at me funny, I’m probably not the kind of guy who’ll go looking for your lost kitten.

Having the option to kill anybody means having the option to kill women. In Fable and its sequels, it’s entirely possible to spend hours of gametime luring attractive women into isolated locations and beating them to death. In Fallout 2 it’s feasible to stalk the streets of New Reno gutting prostitutes (although admittedly this will put the whole town into combat mode, which might make things slower than you’d like). If you’re going to give the player the freedom to be a psychopath (and indeed tout it as a key plank of your game even – in fact especially – if your game is ostensibly making a serious point about morality) then you have to give them the option to be a misogynist psychopath, because the only way to implement the alternative would be to have no women in the game at all, or to make them all immortal both of which would be dumb.

Of course you might reasonably ask the question of why gamers are so keen on games in which you get the option to be a mass murdering bastard in the first place, but that’s a different issue for a different time.

What I do find interesting, however, is the fact that while the sandbox genre is huge, and pretty much all of them support, as a form of emergent gameplay, the option to beat the crap out of women, it’s almost always Rockstar games that are singled out for specific criticism.

Rocking the Boat

Okay, I say “find interesting” but what I actually mean is “find relatively easy to understand, but think people are often a bit too eager to get up on their high horses about.”

Whys and wherefores aside, Rockstar games do have a greater tendency to produce violence against women as part of their emergent gameplay experience. Whether it’s killing prostitutes for a refund in GTA or throwing women on railway tracks in Red Dead Redemption there’s always one or two little bits of the game where they reward killing women just slightly more than many people feel comfortable with. You can kill prostitutes in Assassin’s Creed 2, but you don’t get a reward for doing it.

For some people, this is a deal-breaker, and I’m cool with that. For some people this is something you look sideways at, and I’m cool with that too.

But I think there’s more to it than that.

If you look at Rockstar’s big titles: Grand Theft Auto, Bully, Red Dead Redemption there’s not one of them in which you have the option of having a female protagonist. It’s a small thing, almost a trivial thing, but it matters, and its indicative of a more general problem, which is that Rockstar flat out aren’t interested in women.

Rockstar games (even Bully, to some extent) are about manly men doing manly man things in a world of manly manness. Red Dead Redemption goes one step further by being set Back When Men Were Men.

Nobody in a Rockstar game is particularly well realised except the (male) protagonist. Everybody else is a stereotype or an archetype, and like it or not, that's a big part of their appeal. A sandbox video game gains a lot of its impact from making you feel like you “are” whatever you're supposed to be. The GTA games rely on making you feel like a gangster (or possibly a gangsta) and Red Dead Redemption relies on making you feel like a cowboy in the dying days of the old west.

The thing is, these settings – particularly when painted in all their broad-strokes glory – are implicitly sexist. If you've deliberately chosen to play a game in which you're a pimpin' hos in da hood, complaining about specific instances of sexism seems redundant. Similarly, if you've chosen to play a game which is set in a gritty, violent version of the old west complaining about women not having that big a role feels a little bit like protesting too much.

Rockstar just plain aren't interested in women. They like games about men being men, with women hanging around in the background to provide whatever forms of validation the player prefers, whether that comes from saving whores or cutting them up with a hunting knife. For a lot of people, this is a deal-breaker, and it's completely reasonable for it to be a deal-breaker. Rockstar games do have a faintly skeevy attitude to women, and that faintly skeevy attitude to women is an intrinsic part of the way their games work. It's slightly less integral to the cowboy genre than the gangsta genre, but it's still the kind of setting where you expect half the women you meet to be prostitutes.

Rockstar Hypocrisy

The thing that bugged me about the Red Dead Redemption Hates Women article is that it seemed, fairly clearly, to be written by somebody that played and enjoyed the game. Specifically, it seems to be written by somebody who played and enjoyed the game and wasn't massively bothered by the game's attitude to women until it got to the point where they were actually confronted by it.

For example, the article singles out for particular criticism a random encounter in which a woman asks for your help and then, if you stop to help her, tries to steal your horse. The author seems to read this as the designers saying “OMG women are all evil bitches who will rob you blind.” This, I should note, is despite the fact that half the NPCs in the game will steal your horse given half a chance.

What the author of the article does not single out is the random encounter with a man cutting up a whore. He mentions it, in fact he makes a throwaway joke about the guy maybe “having a point” since apparently the women in Red Dead Redemption are all horse-stealing bitches anyway.

The thing is, the “guy cutting a whore” scene, from where I'm standing, is far more problematic than the “woman tries to steal your horse” scene. The latter I read as a woman doing exactly what everybody else in the damned game is doing – being a low down thieving varmint. The former on the other hand uses a violent, sexually motivated attack on a woman as an excuse to make the player feel cool.

I confess here that this is one of my pet peeves, and something I'm a little bit oversensitive to, but I am profoundly creeped out by rape/revenge narratives. It takes violence against women and makes it all about men: the bad men who commit it, and the good men who kill the bad men who commit it. Women aren't a factor – there's no consideration given to how the whore feels after you shoot the guy who's trying to cut her up (except insofar as she is grateful to you, the good man who rescued her).

Indeed looking at the article, a lot of the author's evidence for the game's “hatred” of women actually seems to come from situations in which he, personally, got angry at women in the game for not behaving how he wanted (right up to his final point being that the game apparently “hates women” because the prostitutes aren't sexy enough). He seems to take as further evidence for his position the fact that he chose to vent this frustration by shooting a woman in the head.

It is perfectly reasonable to criticise Rockstar games for presenting women as nothing but victims and whores. It is perfectly reasonable to criticise Rockstar games for glamourising misogyny. It's perfectly reasonable to criticise Rockstar for mechanically rewarding people for killing women in “funny” or “appropriate” ways. It's even reasonable to criticise Rockstar for providing an environment in which people can enact violent, misogynistic fantasies without fear of reprisal.

It's not reasonable to run around shooting prostitutes, then criticise Rockstar for letting you do it.

Themes:

Computer Games

,

Minority Warrior

~

bookmark this with - facebook - delicious - digg - stumbleupon - reddit

~Comments (

go to latest

)

Wardog

at 18:53 on 2010-06-12I have to say, I always enjoy Rockstar games but I think I can get away without feeling too morally uncomfortable about it because I'm a woman.

And I honestly thought that article was a hideously badly done parody...given Cracked's reputation for humour, or should that be "humour." I thought it was a poor quality satire on what somebody with no awareness whatsoever thought a feminist might find objectionable in RDR, workong from the assumption that all feminist criticism is hysterical and ignorant, of course.

In either case: I hate the article.

permalink

-

go to top

Andy G

at 19:29 on 2010-06-12In Fallout, I always ended up killing quest characters because I would accidentally wander into town with a weapon out and end up having to kill everyone. It made the game incredibly dull though.

permalink

-

go to top

Arthur B

at 19:34 on 2010-06-12

A common criticism of Oblivion was that it wouldn’t let you kill questgivers in case you “accidentally” cut yourself off from important questlines, which was probably a sensible choice all told, but which to a lot of people felt like unnecessary handholding.

To be fair, I always thought

Morrowind

found a really good middle ground for this sort of thing - let you kill the NPCs that give you the plot-critical quests, but if you do so you get a little message saying "You've just made the main plot unwinnable - feel free keep playing if you're cool with that, but if you're not, load a saved game". So it wasn't just unnecessary handholding, but it was handholding that represented a move away from a perfectly workable compromise.

On the main subject of the article: it's kind of depressing that it took

Saint's Row 2

to finally give you the chance to play a female protagonist in a GTA-like sandbox game. By which point Rockstar had published GTA, GTA 2, the two London expansion packs, GTA 3, Vice City, San Andreas, Liberty City Stories, Vice City Stories, GTA IV, and Bully, of which precisely 0 lets you play a girl.

permalink

-

go to top

Jamie Johnston

at 19:43 on 2010-06-12

... sorry if you’re reading this article in 2012 and haven’t got a clue what this is all about...

Hello, People of 2012! You are correct, the Ferretbrain archives are much more entertaining and rewarding than the Olympic games. As a reward for your good taste, let me present for you: Viorica's

playpen post

, Arthur's

response

, Dan's

response

, Arthur's

response to Dan's response

, and that gives you the whole conversation up to the date of publication of this article.

(It was a bit of a complex process to get hold of those permalinks, though - maybe we could have them accessible from the playpen itself, as with comments?)

[Reads rest of article.]

permalink

-

go to top

http://alex-von-cercek.livejournal.com/

at 22:38 on 2010-06-12Didn't the removal of the children from Fallout 2 actually keep the children in the game, just make them invisible?

So the situation became that an invisible six year old could walk up to your character, pickpocket them and then invisibly run away with your loot.

Although you could still give them primed explosives to pickpocket.

permalink

-

go to top

Dan H

at 11:23 on 2010-06-13

Didn't the removal of the children from Fallout 2 actually keep the children in the game, just make them invisible?

I believe it made them invisible and non-interactable, so yeah the guys in the den would pickpocket you, but you couldn't complete the Find Johnny quest for example.

permalink

-

go to top

http://puritybrown.livejournal.com/

at 11:45 on 2010-06-13My recollection is that the non-interactable-children "fix" made at least one main plot quest unsolvable unless you had either consulted a walkthrough or randomly happened to go to a place that you'd have had no reason to go to and randomly looked in the one locker that contained the object you needed. (And hadn't sold it or dropped it somewhere.)

That Cracked article was really interesting on a meta level. It looks like the author's picked up on the fact that feminist/anti-racist/etc. critiques of pop culture are a

thing

nowadays (certainly Cracked has posted a number of them), but completely failed to get why misogyny in pop culture is a bad thing or how it works. It's a pretty good imitation of the outward form of a feminist critique of pop culture, but with none of the inward essence.

permalink

-

go to top

Dan H

at 17:25 on 2010-06-13

In Fallout, I always ended up killing quest characters because I would accidentally wander into town with a weapon out and end up having to kill everyone. It made the game incredibly dull though.

I've got to confess to secretly liking that element of the game. Having to remember to put your weapon away was a pain, but it added a sense of immersion.

And with that I realise I'm one of *those* gamers. I'll be complaining about fast-travel mechanics next.

permalink

-

go to top

Andy G

at 17:58 on 2010-06-13@ Dan: I meant the game became incredibly dull once you just went around killing everyone, even though it let you do it. I did quite like things like that, except they did make it REALLY easy to fuck up and ruin everything (but hey, what are save games for?).

permalink

-

go to top

Andy G

at 17:58 on 2010-06-13Things like that = features such as your weapons making people hostile.

permalink

-

go to top

http://kingwalters.livejournal.com/

at 17:53 on 2012-10-11Thanks, JJ!