#the worst parents ever are getting together to have a terrible parent convention

[songofstrawhats]

YEAH SURE WHY NOT LMAO

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

aquarium | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You thought you and Jeon Jungkook would be last forever, but you had to read the ending yourself, in the form of typed words. When it arrived, you went to the blue sea. The grey sky would come and the black storm would appear.

warnings: cheating in established relationship; (very sad) angst; language; ambiguous ending; non-idol!AU; video game streamer!Jungkook x reader; ft. kind garden-loving landlord!Taehyung

--

now playing – trauma (aquarium) by ONEWE

this place has been transformed into something unknown i’m trapped alone in an aquarium

You could see the ending.

At first it was the little things. He held your hand a little less, stood a little further from you when you two walked side by side. Stared at his phone a lot.  Didn’t share his snacks as often. Spent all his time on his computer, streaming video games for longer and longer hours.

You had nothing to say. It was his job, after all.

You made his meals, washed his dishes. Changed his water bottles, gave him a kiss for the camera. Felt a little part of you die inside each time you went to bed alone, only to hear him slip under the blankets, hours after you. You went to work for longer and longer hours. There was no reason to go home. He ordered take-out for dinner every night.

Being Jeon Jungkook’s girlfriend was supposed to be fun.

And it was fun, at first. At first, he spent all this time with you. At first, he was always with you, by your side. He only streamed a little back then. It was a slow, gradual growth, and, like all parasites, it took over every aspect of your life. From your nights, to your days, to your time – making meals, cleaning up after him, doing all the laundry.

You could tolerate it. He made a lot of money. He was having fun. He was smiling. You would do anything for Jeon Jungkook. He dragged you into his sea and you swam in it happily. Until you realized you were stuck and alone, glass walls all around you, keeping you away from him. Seeing him, and yet not being able to touch him, kept away from his heart.

Caught in an aquarium.

He would give you kisses and tell you he wanted to get married.

He would say he loved you, but it was all a lie.

You weren’t in his Instagram photos. You weren’t part of his Twitter bio anymore. You weren’t listed in his phone with a little purple heart next to your name. Even that, you wouldn’t mind. He told you he didn’t want you to get harassed by trolls. He told you that he wasn’t ashamed of you, that you were the most beautiful woman in the world.

But.

Then again.

He told every girl in his DMs that.

You stared at them that faithful night, unable to sleep, reading them all. Jungkook was asleep beside you, snoring away, and you read every single one. The WhatsApp messages were worse. They were so much worse. More sexual, detailing what he wanted to do to other people. Not you. Not you, the love of his life. Not you, the one by his side.

You knew how to backtrack and retrace your steps. Make it seem like you were never there. Placed his phone on his side of the bed and went to sleep. He held you that night. Turned around in his sleep and wrapped his arms around you.

Inside, you drowned.

When he told you that he was going to a gaming convention, he was very excited. Grinning his beautiful grin, snacking on shrimp chips as you washed the dishes. It was only the weekend, only two days. He wasn’t going to go for the Friday or Monday, so he could spend time with you.

“I would totally invite you, but you said you have to work that weekend.”

You said apologetically. “I know. I’m sorry. But I have to be there for my co-workers.”

He frowned and nudged you. “You work too much. You know you don’t have to. We can just live off my streaming money. I can buy you nice things.”

“I would feel bad for leaving them. I’ve worked at that office for seven years.”

He smirked, elbowing you a little. “Cheating on me with all the cute guys?”

You carefully wiped down the glass, placing it back in the cabinet, smile plastered to your face.

“No guy is cuter than you, Jungkook.”

That was the weekend you left.

You went to work, confirmed your month-long vacation of all the hours you’ve collected over the years, and packed every belonging you owned in that apartment. To be honest, there wasn’t very much. Anything Jungkook had ever bought you, you left behind.

There was no reason to hold onto it.

For a long moment, you stared at the photos, the stack of photos of you and him. Your smile, his smile, the places you’ve been, the things you’ve seen with him. Then you placed them on the bed, scattering them, spreading them all over the blankets.

You left it like that.

-

You went to the ocean.

You dropped the boxes at a storage unit in the city. Took only a carry-on bag of clothes and took a train to the coast. You left your phone in the storage unit too, telling your parents you were going on vacation to the sea. Didn’t say where, only mentioned you wanted to unplug, unwind, disconnect.

Disconnect.

The cottage you rented was cared for by a nice young man with dark brown hair and tan skin. He said it was his parents’ and that he was renting it out for them. If you needed anything, you could contact him and he wouldn’t hesitate to help. He had a bright, boxy smile and a cheerful tone. You thanked him for being so considerate.

You sat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the side.

Your pink flats were right beside you, and your arms were resting on the wooden fence. The ocean breeze was strong here, salty and cold. You were in a long-sleeved white dress that was going to get dirt and grass stains on it, but that sort of thing didn’t matter now.

Clothes could be replaced.

The garden rock in your hand spun round and round, dancing between your deft fingers. Your left hand. The hand that held his when you two walked side by side, fitting in his right covered in small tattoos. He had a king’s crown tattoo on his ring finger and asked you if you would get a queen’s crown tattoo someday. It didn’t have to be on your hand. Anywhere was fine. 

You looked at your left hand then, the hand that was holding his, and then it didn’t.

And then it didn’t.

You stared down into the crashing waves and jagged rocks under you. It was cold here. How far down was that? White forth slammed against eroding stone. Even mountains weren’t forever. Even something as solid as rock could be ground down into nothing with water.

Your eyes shifted to the shimmering sea, the endless blue, sun reflecting harshly off it. It didn’t matter how beautiful the water was or how many extraordinary creatures were under the surface. The deep sea hid all the worst creatures, all the terrible monsters. Not even science could go that far and discover all those horrors.

You pulled your arm back and threw the rock as far as you could. You couldn’t even see where it landed. The seawater was too rough and wild.

“Why would you throw my garden stone into the ocean?”

You started, turning around sharply to the heavy, baritone voice of your landlord. He was wearing a white sunhat, a beige shirt and pants, clutching a pair of dirty and worn brown gardening gloves. He frowned at you, staring into the ocean.

“What did my rock ever do to you?”

You looked back to the choppy waves and then faced him again, ashamed.

“Well, come. You will have to help with the garden to repay for that. I’m harvesting winter squash.”

-

“You can cook.”

You nodded to Kim Taehyung, the young man who was caring for the sea cottage. He was tasting some of your winter squash and fresh bamboo combination after he asked if you could do something with the two. You had added garlic, ginger, and made a light white sauce as you sautéed it all together.

“I got this bamboo from a friend who lives in the mountains. I can’t cook very well though. Can you?”

You two ate in steady silence, listening to the sounds of nature and waves crashing into shore. He had made rice while you cooked the vegetables.

“The only thing I can make, really,” he had chuckled.

You chewed, listening to Taehyung mix the leftover sauce with the rice and slurp it up.

“The world is quiet here,” you said softly.

He nodded; mouth full. His brown eyes shifted to the overhanging cliff as he swallowed.

“It is.”

-

You tended the garden with him.

You hadn’t even realized all the greenery around the cottage was a giant garden. To you, they were just pretty plants. Taehyung taught you all about the plants, which ones he was growing, which ones the season was already over, which ones he was trying to grow next season. Some were flower bushes he was trying to learn, but you learned that they were finnicky and not as hardy as the vegetables.

“I don’t even like vegetables that much,” he laughed, rich, full, heedless. “But they’re easy to care for, so they make me the happiest.”

He had tried fruits, but the wild animals always got to them despite his best efforts.

“I must share with nature, I suppose.”

Sometimes, you missed the internet. You missed the distractions, the games you played, the ability to like random thoughts on someone’s Twitter. In those times, you would stare at the never-ending blue ocean and then Taehyung would tap you with the rake and tell you that you needed to help him loosen the soil.

“We need all of nature’s nutrients.”

-

You stared out to the blue ocean, wearing a large straw hat and a navy dress. You weren’t at the cliff this time, but farther back. The breeze was softer at this moment. Taehyung had given you the hat a while ago, telling you it was better than the white scarf you wore around your hair. It did provide better sun protection for your face.

The cobalt sea was violent today, sky grey and dark. Taehyung told you it might rain, so the garden could be skipped today.

You held your hat and looked up.

“Me too, sky. Me too,” you murmured quietly.

You wondered when the feeling would disappear. It would probably be gradual, silently vanishing as each day was replaced, memories fading into the vast abyss of thoughts, mixing with fantasy so that you wouldn’t be able to know the difference between what was real and what was fake. That’s why eyewitness accounts were never trustworthy.

That’s how all memories were.

You let go of your hat for only a second. It flew off your head and you spun around, surprised at the strong ocean breeze.

Taehyung caught it with one hand, standing a few meters behind you.

Your lips parted at how easily he was able to catch it. He was wearing a yellow raincoat and brown pants with his usual brown gardening boots. He smiled, walking up to you and putting the straw hat back on your head.

“I warned you that you might lose it if you stand too close to the ocean.”

You hand came up and brushed against his fingers as he retreated his. He looked away quickly, into the stormy blue sea threatened by grey clouds.

“What have you lost to be looking so sad?” Taehyung asked gently.

You followed his gaze.

“Memories.” The water churned, smacking against the cliffside. “A whole book of them.”

“What do you mean?”

You turned back to Taehyung, who was now watching you curiously. You held onto your straw hat, not wanting it to blow away again.

“I left all the photos, so I wouldn’t have to see them again.” You sighed. “Pictures of moments, years etched out visually. I was going to make a memories photo book when we got married.”

You looked back to the ocean, seeing the sky darken ever more.

“And now we won’t.”

There was a loud clap of thunder. Your eyes searched for the lightning.

And then your name, shouted across the grass, harsh and angry like the thunder.

At first, you didn’t hear it. You were distracted by the sky, waiting for the rain. But Taehyung snapped his head around, startled. You noticed his movement and turned around too. A figure in black jumped over the fence, yelling your name on the top of his lungs.

The glass walls came up inside you, trying to protect you from the stumbling, turbulent sea that was Jeon Jungkook.

Taehyung frowned. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Jungkook spat, glaring at him and his yellow raincoat. He called you again, sharply, stomping over. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? When I came home from the convention and you were just gone? No note, nothing, only to find you running off with some random guy!”

The thunder sounded again, but there was no lightning yet.

“I called everyone! Your work, your friends, your family, your phone! You wouldn’t even answer your fucking phone. I had to find out from your work that you were on vacation,” Jungkook hissed, glaring at you. “Vacation from our relationship that is, fucking cheating on me.”

Taehyung glared back. “Dude, it’s not like that at all. I’m just the landlord of the cottage she rented–”

“Shut up. I’m not talking to you.”

You stared at Jungkook, his dark brows and wild black hair, so angry at you that he was cursing. The irony was not lost on you. You held onto the straw hat.

“Is that all it was?” you said quietly. “You were upset that I would find affection in someone else?”

“Of course, I was! You’re the love of my life!”

You smiled gently. “Is that what you tell them all?” Your navy dress fluttered in the harsh ocean breeze.

Jungkook scowled. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You looked down to your pink flats, dirty and grass-stained now from running around the cottage garden. Taehyung had teased you, telling you they weren’t good gardening shoes, but you hadn’t brought any other shoes with you. Everything else Jungkook had bought you, with his money.

“Even now, you pretend, Jungkook.” Your hair tangled in the wind, salty and tousled from the sea. You looked back up at him and his expression was changing now. “I remember asking you once, should you comment like that on other people’s Instagram posts?” The thunder was louder now, sky ripping apart with flashing light. “You said, everyone is like that. It’s part of the business.” The color was draining out of Jungkook’s face. “Were the DMs only for show too? What about the WhatsApp messages? The things you wanted to do to them? The ones you wanted to shove your dick into?”

“That’s fucked up,” Taehyung muttered next to you.

“That… That wasn’t…” Jungkook struggled for words. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You nodded. You felt it first, the fat drop on the hand holding your hat.

“I know you didn’t. Everything was for fun. Everything.”

Smile plastered to your face, because what could you do now?

“Even me. Even I was for fun.”

You inhaled a deep breath. You had cried for many nights when you crawled into that unfamiliar bed upstairs. For hours, long after Taehyung was gone. Drowning in your own endless sea, filling your glass aquarium. Cried yourself out, and now you let the sea cry for you when you watched it every day, while you worked on the garden with Taehyung.

The rain began to fall.

You looked back to Jungkook, torn, guilty, exposed.

“You should come in and wait for the rain to subside before going home. Your viewers will miss you.”

Taehyung pulled his hood over his head. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked you, voice sharp. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The way he said it implied in more ways than just physical pain. But it was a little late for that.

“I think I will be okay, Taehyung,” you said, water seeping through your hat, rain drenching your dress., turning you into a soaked doll. “Nature has taught me to keep growing.”

He bit his lip, still frowning, but bowed. “Alright.”

And then you watched him go, back to his car, hurrying along. You went in the opposite direction, to the cottage. You had one more week in your hideaway. Rainwater seeped into your flats as you stepped into the grass, soaking your feet. But somehow, it was nice. It was nice to feel the sky cry on you, because then you didn’t have to. You made your way to the covered porch, wringing out your dress the best you could. Took off your hat, opened the door.

Heard heavy black boots in your wake.

“You… left all the pictures.”

The choked, sorrowful voice of Jeon Jungkook behind you.

“I did.”

You stepped inside the cottage. Placed your hat on the hook, dripping wet. Stepped out of your drenched pink flats. Didn’t wait for him. Just went upstairs to the bathroom, trailing rainwater, locking the door behind you. You turned on the water, plugging the drain. Ran a bath and sank into your own hot aquarium.

You heard the heavy fall against the door. Your name, softly spoken through the door.

“I’m sorry.”

You sank further into the water.

“No apology will ever fix what you have done to me.”

The water was cloudy and milky with whatever bath salts Taehyung had provided with the other personal goods.

“I can prove it to you.”

You felt the tears come now, the anger, the sadness. You submerged your head underwater, blocking out all the sound, blocking out your own thoughts. Your hair floated around you, washing out the salt of the blue sea. You waited, waited until your lungs screamed, and still you waited until your vision was fading to grey before you resurfaced, taking a shuddering breath, surprisingly calm.

“The trauma has already spread, Jungkook.”

You heard a slight sob at the tone you used to say his name, cold and unfeeling.

“I really didn’t mean it, I swear.”

You took a deep breath and dove into your man-made aquarium once again.

-

part ii

--

masterpost

extended playlist blue & grey by BTS 기억 세탁소 (eraser) by ONEWE 기억 속 한 권의 책 (a book in memory) by ONEWE

[love-and-monsters]

Fake Dating pt. 2

M Faerie X F human reader, 6,405 words

This is a part two to this story. Elwain and his human are safely in the human world, dealing with things far more mundane than an assassination attempt. Both of them are adjusting to the new life and to each other. Very fluffy, with some caretaking. I was in a very romantic mood while writing this and I think you can tell.

Content notes: mentions of parents trying to kill their child, descriptions of minor illness.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. Why do humans like this?”

You repressed a snicker. “You’re watching it.”

Elwain didn’t even look away from the screen to reply. “You put it on.”

“I just turned on the TV. You’re the one who started watching.” Elwain made a noncommittal noise. You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile. “I can change the channel, if you want. There’s a documentary on that I wanted to-”

“No, this is fine,” Elwain said. He hopped onto the couch next to you and curled up. “Ugh. These people know that expensive doesn’t mean good, right?”

You covered your mouth with a hand. Elwain actually, legitimately enjoying trashy reality shows was by far the best thing you’d learned about his personality since you’d started living together. The worst thing was probably that he’d grown up with servants and had no comprehension of household chores. It had taken a few weeks to get him to put his food back in the refrigerator when he was done with it, and you weren’t sure he was ever going to get the hang of doing dishes. Still. He was getting better.

“You’re still going to need to vacuum later tonight,” you reminded him. Elwain groaned.

“I spent all day at work!” he said. “I should get a day off.”

“You only had a five hour shift today. I worked seven. Plus, I have school. You don’t get breaks on household chores. Doesn’t matter how much you worked, they still have to be done.” Elwain looked away sulkily. That was an expression you were getting uncomfortably familiar with. “And you’re not allowed to do magic for it, either.”

“What? Just because you can’t use magic, there is no reason for me to be forbidden!” Elwain said.

“Yeah, sure. You remember what happened last time you used magic to clean the apartment?” Bright pink spots appeared on Elwain’s cheeks. He glared down at the couch, expression screwed up in irritation.

“I fixed that.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. You fixed the apartment. What you’re never going to fix is my trauma from walking into my apartment and finding everything covered in spiders!”

“I apologized!”

“Look, the next time you decide to enchant a bunch of bugs into doing household chores, just. Don’t.”

Elwain huffed. “They weren’t even venomous to humans! All of you are so easily frightened. They weren’t going to hurt you.”

“I think the heart attack I had upon entering my own apartment could be considered as hurting me,” you muttered. Elwain looked sour, but didn’t respond, apparently returning to his TV show. Elwain’s adjustment to the human world had been… difficult. He had no real understanding of conventional social norms and obviously still expected everyone to treat him like a noble, despite working a minimum wage job at a fast-food restaurant. Not to mention that he seemed to have very loose morals when it came to enchanting mortals. As far as you were aware, he’d never done it to you, but he didn’t seem to have any sort of restraint when it came to anyone else. Before he’d gotten his job in customer service, he’d made all of his money by charming random people off the street into handing over their wallets.

Admittedly, his skills had come in handy. You didn’t feel particularly good about it, but he had charmed the landlord into giving you the apartment for significantly less than the going rate. In your defense, there hadn’t been many options. You couldn’t stay in your parent’s house with a Fae hanging around, and even with both of you working, there was no way to afford an apartment otherwise.

It did not help that Elwain apparently found your moral crisis very funny.

“You all live by such dumb rules all the time. If you really wanted, I could probably charm someone into giving us their house, or just letting us stay there.”

“That feels morally dubious,” you said.

“Ugh. You won’t let me steal anything, you won’t let me charm people into letting us use their things without stealing them, you won’t even let me charm people into handing some things over!” Elwain flopped across the couch. “So now we’re living in a garbage apartment and I have to work at a greasy food place where customers yell all the time and-”

“It’s a nice apartment, especially considering what we’re paying for it,” you interrupted. “And if you use magic too often, people might start figuring out that something weird is going on.”

“I doubt it. Mortals are stupid.” But Elwain didn’t protest, and went to his job as usual, and didn’t steal, which was more respect for your rules than you were worried he’d show. And, really, you were glad you’d instated the ‘no magic’ rule at large, given how unpredictable the results could be.

Elwain sprawled across the couch. He had a tendency to take up ridiculous amounts of space, pushing you to the edges of the couch to avoid contact. Eventually, you got up.

“Where are you going?” Elwain asked as you walked out of the room.

“I’m going to study for a bit before bed,” you called back. “Enjoy your show.”

He stared after you until your door clicked shut. Weird. He’d seemed almost annoyed about you leaving, even though it meant he could watch his shows for longer and you would stop bugging him about vacuuming. Whatever. He’d been acting weird recently, though. Maybe you should talk to him about it. He’d seemed fine for the first month or so after leaving his home and his parents trying to kill him, but maybe he was having some sort of delayed reaction.

You buried yourself in your textbooks for the next few hours, trying to get a solid start on one of your papers. The back of your mind seemed to be focused on the little noises in the apartment, though. Every sound of footsteps or things being moved pulled your attention back to the rest of the house. Eventually, you heard the sound of the vacuum running for a while before Elwain headed into his room.

He never went back into the main area of your apartment and, buried in work, you were soon thoroughly distracted. Gradually, as you worked, your mind grew less and less focused until you were face down in your books, dead asleep.

“Wake up!”

You bolted upright. There was a piece of paper sticking to your cheek from a stream of drool. You hurriedly pulled it off. “What? What’s going on?” You blinked, focusing on Elwain’s fine face in front of you. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Your alarm was going off. I can’t believe you didn’t hear it. It woke me up.” Sure enough, your phone, which was still sitting across the room from you, on its charger, was ringing furiously. You weren’t surprised that you hadn’t noticed it, though. Your head felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton.

“Oh. Sorry.” You rose a little unsteadily and turned the alarm off. “Thanks for waking me. Probably would have slept right through it if you hadn’t.”

“Uh huh,” Elwain said. “Did someone curse you?”

You blinked at him. He seemed dead serious. “Uh, no. I doubt it. Unless you know something I don’t.”

“If you’re asking about my parents, I would assume they are no longer concerned about me,” Elwain said. His voice was clipped, like it always was when he talked about his parents. “I don’t think they would bother to curse a mortal. If they had the means to lay a curse on someone, it would be far easier and more effective to just curse me.” He paused. “I was only asking because you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“You do. Why didn’t you sleep in your actual bed last night?” he asked.

“Because I fell asleep at my desk by accident. Are you going to stand here and just insult me or-” You broke off into a round of thick, hacking coughs. Elwain took a step back, alarm crossing his face.

“What is happening to you?” He lifted his arms in front of him, like he was trying to ward off some kind of evil spirit.

“It’s a cough,” you said. “Have you never seen a cough before?”

Elwain lowered his arms, still looking at me like he thought you would start convulsing at any moment. “Fae don’t do that.”

“They don’t cough?” You rubbed at your chest. A significant amount of phlegm had settled there. God, your body really had to pick the worst time to get sick.

“Not like that,” he said. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m sick,” you told him.

He nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of that. A mortal thing. Your forms are weak, so you occasionally fall ill. It is a sign of your small, failing lifespans.”

You considered correcting him, but decided that you had better ways to spend your morning than trying to explain germ theory to a Faerie. “Yeah. Sure. Well. I’m sick. So that’s why I’m coughing. It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.”

Elwain narrowed his eyes. “Hmph. Well. I have work. Don’t die while I’m out.”

“I’m not in any danger of dying,” you told him. “Go head to work. Have fun.”

“That’s unlikely,” he muttered, but he left your room without protest. You closed your door after him and set about getting ready for your day.

The cold had settled into your head and chest and you could tell it was going to be bad already, even before it had come on fully. God. You could not afford to get sick.

Elwain was eating breakfast when you shuffled into the kitchen. You’d needed to absolutely cake your face in makeup to look presentable, and you saw his brows rise as he looked at you. Fortunately, the Fae at least knew how to keep their mouths shut. He just looked back at the frozen waffles he was toasting.

You snagged a granola bar and headed for the door. “Have a good day at work!” you called over your shoulder. Elwain grunted in response. The door swung shut behind you.

Work was exhausting, as per usual. It was better than Elwain’s job by a long shot, since you were working in a local candy store run by a sweet older couple, but between keeping an eye on any batches of candy being produced, sorting out customers, and having to deal with the requisite child-throwing-a-fit-for-not-getting-sweets, it was tiring. Trying to look bright and perky while being weighted down with a cold was awful.

As soon as work was off, you had class. Dragging yourself through it was a slow, painful slog. By the end, your head was fuzzy and you felt dead on your feet. Slowly, you hauled yourself on the bus and fell asleep.

Naturally, you missed your stop.

About an hour after you were supposed to be home, you dragged yourself in through the door. Elwain practically slammed into you. His hands clapped on either side of his face and he peered intently at you. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you! I thought you were dead!”

You pushed him off you and bent to one side to cough heavily until you were nearly sagging to the floor. Elwain stared at you. “Sorry,” you rasped when you’d stopped. “I fell asleep. And then my phone was on low battery and I wanted to make sure I had enough battery to use my GPS to get home.”

“You couldn’t have texted me?” Elwain drew himself up, hands on his hips. The entire situation reminded you, ridiculously, of your mom when you came home after a night out. “I was worried! I didn’t know where you were, and mortals are so ridiculously fragile-”

“Aw, you’d have been fine,” you said. “If anything, you’d be able to do more without my stupid mortal morals.”

Elwain’s expression went strange for a moment. “Are you feeling well? You seem… off.”

“I’m not feeling well. I’d like to lie down, actually.” You coughed again. “That okay with you?” Elwain was still frowning, but he stepped aside, allowing you down the hall and into your room.

You went down into your bed face-first. Almost as soon as you hit the pillows, your mind faded into sleep. Sleep came to you in fitful waves. You kept waking, coughing, rolling over and falling asleep again. When your alarm pulled you back to full consciousness, you felt thoroughly awful. The cold had settled firmly into your chest and head, gumming everything up. Your chest rasped every time you breathed in, prompting heavy coughing fits, you shivered even when you were wrapped in blankets, and your head felt full, achy, and cloudy.

The cold had apparently decided to upgrade to a full-blown illness. Slowly, you shoved yourself upright. It was hard to breathe through your nose and your mouth. Your throat stung with every inhale. Every cell of your body just wanted to pop some of the cold medicine that made you sleep and hopefully you’d wake up when it was all over.

Just as you were standing up, someone knocked on your door.

Well, you knew who. There was only one person who it could be. Grimacing, you walked over to the door and pulled it open. “Elwain. What?”

He stared at you. “I was- are you okay?”

“I’m sick. You remember the discussion was had yesterday?” you said. “Anyway. You needed something?”

Elwain looked you over. You hadn’t looking into a mirror, but given his expression, you probably looked terrible. He seemed to think you were five seconds from crumbling into a pile of ash, like a vampire exposed to sunlight. “Do I need to call 911?” he asked.

“Uh, no. It’s a cold. I don’t need an ambulance. I need to sleep for a while. Why are you knocking on my door?” you asked. Elwain’s mouth moved wordlessly. Whatever he had wanted to talk to you about, it seemed to have been completely derailed.

“I… er.” Elwain’s gaze flicked over you again. “Well. I wanted to see how you were doing. You went to bed right after you got home last night and I never saw you again. And you seem to be doing… poorly.”

“Yeah. I’m not doing great. I really just want to go back to bed.” You rubbed your hand over your head. “I feel like shit.”

Elwain hesitated. “Do you need me to do something?”

“Just go about your day. I’ll try to keep my gross self out of your way.” You slouched across your room to your bed. “If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to try to get a little more sleep.”

Elwain lingered in the doorway for a few moments longer. Finally, he turned and headed into the kitchen. The door remained open behind him, and you couldn’t be bothered to get up and close it again. Instead, you buried your head in your pillow. Sleep claimed you again within moments.

Less than an hour later, your alarm went off again. You slapped at it balefully until it shut off. Somehow, it felt like you gotten negative sleep, like sleeping had made you even more tired. Slowly, painfully, you pushed yourself upright. Shivers wracked your frame. How had sleep made everything worse?

You threw on the first clothes that you could get your hands on and shuffled into the kitchen. Elwain looked up from his breakfast. His mouth opened slightly. “Good lord. Maybe you have been cursed.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I don’t look that bad.” You did, but you’d slathered enough makeup on your face to cover most of it. Then again, maybe that wasn’t enough to hide from Fae eyes.

“You look like a walking corpse,” Elwain said. You collapsed in the seat next to him and coughed into your fist. The force of the motion made your head throb. Elwain curled his lips back from his teeth in a grimace. “Are you certain you don’t need me to call 911?”

“No. It’s a cold. I’m-” You dissolved into a fit of coughing so severe it was difficult to catch your breath. Elwain stared at you, eyes wide. “I’m fine,” you croaked.

Elwain narrowed his eyes, but returned to his phone. You didn’t know where he’d gotten it from, because he certainly hadn’t purchased it, but you’d decided you weren’t going to ask. You ate slowly, mostly because your stomach felt tender, and you couldn’t finish even half of your normal portion. After a while of picking at your food, you dumped your dishes in the sink and started gathering your items to head out.

“Where are you going?” You startled. Elwain had appeared at your shoulder, completely silent. You might have chalked up not noticing him to your cold-dulled senses, but he could sneak up on you no matter how well you were feeling.

“Work,” you said.

Elwain looked back down at his phone. “You are not supposed to leave the house if you’re sick.”

“It’s a cold. I’ll be fine,” you said.

Elwain kept looking at his phone. “If you are sick, you are supposed to stay home, both so you can avoid infecting others and so you can recover.”

“Are you reading that off a website? Where are you reading that from?” You tried to grab his phone, but he gracefully slipped out of your reach.

“I searched about human illnesses on the internet,” he said. “Your symptoms are consistent with the common cold, but they are also consistent with pneumonia. It says you should sleep and drink water until you are recovered.”

“Look,” you said. “I’m fine. It’s a cold. I’ve had them before. I will have them after this one. I know how to handle them. I’ll pop some cold medicine and I’ll be fine.” Elwain stared at you. His expression was hard to read. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll live.” You sniffed and blotted at your face with a tissue. “I’m going to leave now. I’ll see you later.”

You swept out the door, giving Elwain a wave. He stared after you, not moving until you slammed the door shut.

It was a long, slow, awful day. You could barely keep your head together. By the time you got home, your limbs were heavy with exhaustion and your mind was swimming.

You dragged yourself through the door. Your body felt like you were wrapped in a massive, thick blanket. Everything was warm and it was hard to move, like everything was stiff.

Elwain stared at you as you pulled yourself into the kitchen. “You look like death warmed over.”

“Fine,” you mumbled. “’m fine.” You slouched over the counter and leaned against it. Elwain stood, stepping closer to you. “I’m good. I… I’m good. Just… Tired. Tired. Need to nap.”

“Perhaps you should nap in your room,” Elwain said. “Not on the counter.”

“I’m fine here.” Your words were getting mushy. Why weren’t your lips moving correctly? “I’m good. I just, um. Need. Something…”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Here, hold onto me. I’ll-” Elwian’s hands were on your waist, on your back. You felt boneless, mushy. Your limbs weren’t moving the way you wanted them to. The only thing you could feel were Elwain’s hands supporting you. Was he carrying you? Maybe. You felt like you were floating. Your head was disconnected from your body, floating. Someone was speaking to you from far away, a soothing voice. It was so soothing. Maybe you could just sleep for a bit. Just sleep. It would be nice to just sleep.

Dimly, you came back to yourself. You blinked your eyes open. The ceiling was unfamiliar, at least as ceilings went. Not that you were familiar with many ceilings, really. Looking down at yourself revealed why the ceiling was so unfamiliar. The bed was covered in heavy, dark blue sheets. Elwain’s sheets. You were in his bed.

Slowly, you pushed yourself upright. You still felt bad, but less bad than you had been feeling. A raking cough escaped your chest, thick with phlegm.

“You’re up!” Elwain appeared in the doorway. He looked… frazzled? You weren’t sure the Fae could look as frazzled and unkempt as a human could, but he didn’t look as ethereally beautiful as he usually did. He looked sort of ruffled. “I was considering dragging you to the hospital, but the internet said that maybe ginger tea would actually be better, so I got you some of that.” He indicated the cup in his hands.

“You have got to stop getting all your information from the internet. Or at least I need to give you a media literacy course on identifying good sources,” you croaked. Your voice sounded bad, but it no longer hurt to speak. It just felt uncomfortable.

Elwain gave you a bewildered look and held the cup out toward you. “Drink it.” You took it obligingly and took a sip. Elwain must have dumped half a bottle of honey in it, because it was so sweet you almost couldn’t taste the ginger. You swallowed it carefully.

“Thank you,” you said when you’d finished the cup. “What, uh. What exactly happened to me?”

Elwain sat on the end of your bed. He was wearing his old cloak, the one he’d taken with him when he’d fled from Faerie. He tucked it tighter around him, fingers fidgeting at the hem. “I was hoping you could inform me of that, actually. I was quite frightened when you collapsed like that.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. Vaguely, you remembered passing out. “How long was I out?”

Elwain glanced at the clock. “Mn. Less than an hour? You were in and out for the first ten minutes, mumbling a lot.” You had vague memories of Elwain leaning over you, expression panicked. Must have been from then. “Once I got you into bed, you fell asleep. I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.”

“It is,” you said. “Probably a good idea to let me sleep. Though if I ever do collapse again, please call 911.” You considered. “Well, I guess don’t call 911 unless I’m actually dying. I can’t afford the ambulance.”

Elwain nodded, even though he looked politely confused. “Is your illness getting worse?”

“Maybe,” you said. “It’s hard to tell. I think I have a fever now, so that sucks.”

With absolutely no warning, Elwain leaned forward. His face was abruptly so close to yours, close enough to feel his cool breath tickling your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck lifted. Suddenly the only thoughts in your head had to do with his lips pressing to yours, his cool mouth meandering along your skin-

His forehead touched yours. His eyes closed, a little furrow appearing in his brow. “You’re warm,” he said. “Very warm.” He sat back.

You blinked. “Uh. You can do that with your hand, you know.”

“Oh? I saw the forehead one on the internet,” Elwain said, but he reached up and cradled your face in his hands. With a soft, delicate touch, the back of his hand brushed against your forehead and down your cheek. The touch made something in your chest tighten and your breath catch. “You still feel warm.”

You moved your mouth, trying to get your brain back in gear. “Uh, yeah. Fever! That’s, uh. Bad. I need, um. You remember that pill bottle in the bathroom I showed you? The one with the little red pills?” Elwain nodded. “Get those and a glass of water. They’ll bring the fever down.”

Elwain vanished for a moment and returned with a tall glass water and the bottle of pills. He watched as you downed them and sank back into bed. His sheets were softer than yours, his bed even more luxuriously plush. You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the sheets from, or if maybe they were the sheets you’d bought him, just augmented with magic. “Why did you put me in your bed, anyway?” you asked. “My bed’s not that much further away.”

“I wanted to keep an eye on you,” Elwain said. “And you do not like me coming in your room.”

“I don’t like you just walking into my room whenever you feel like it, but you can come into my room,” you said. But you were pretty glad he’d put you in his bed. Everything in his room smelled faintly floral and herbal, a smell that relaxed you. Everything was cozy.

“I am not familiar with how to deal with sick mortals,” Elwain said. “Do you need anything else?”

“No. I just need to rest.” You paused, looking toward the window. “I should probably head back to my own room, actually. You’ll probably want to sleep here tonight, right?”

Elwain shook his head. “Stay. You need to rest. I will sleep elsewhere.” He swept out of the room, cloak fluttering behind him. You stared after him for a moment before sinking back into bed. Despite just waking up, your head was already muddy again. Maybe Elwain had gotten you the pills with the sleeping medicine in them. Your eyes closed. Within moments, you were drifting away, fast asleep.

You dreamed of strange things, of hands on your face, cupping your cheek, of soft lips pressed to your neck, of kind eyes and strong arms carrying you around. When you opened your eyes to see the same kind eyes staring down at you, you were half-convinced you were still dreaming.

“Hello,” Elwain said. “You have been asleep for a while.”

You blinked. Your body did have that foggy heaviness that came when you’d been sleeping deeply. Even your discomfort from the illness seemed far away and dim. “Elwain.”

“Yes. I’m right here.” He said it more gently than a simple statement of fact, almost like a reassurance.

“How long was I out?” There was bright sunlight streaming in through the window and across the bed. You lifted a hand to clumsily shield your eyes.

“Over twelve hours. I thought you should probably sleep. That’s what the internet said.”

“Oh, man, we are going to need to get you some better resources than just ‘the internet,’” you said. “But you were right. Thanks for letting me sleep.” Slowly, you shoved yourself up into a sitting position. “What’s that?”

Elwain held a bowl out to you. “I was told that soup was good for mortal illnesses.”

You took the bowl of vegetable broth. Elwain’s cooking was usually pretty hit or miss- he could follow recipes just fine, but he also had a habit of deciding that he had a better idea than the recipe and going completely off the rails. The soup just seemed to be broth, though. You took a cautious sip. It was watery, but tolerable.

“Are you feeling better?” Elwain asked. You nodded, glancing over at the clock.

“It’s past nine,” you noticed. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I called in sick. I wanted to stay home to make sure you were all right.” Elwain looked completely serious.

“It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

Elwain’s eyes narrowed. “You collapsed.”

“Well, yeah, but…” You trailed off. There wasn’t much you could say in response to that. “Fine. But if you get fired for this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“I will not be fired. My boss loves me.” Elwain gave a superior little sniff, nose stuck up in the air. You laughed into your bowl of broth.

When you were finished, Elwain took your bowl back into the kitchen, returning only a few moments later. “Do you need anything else?”

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “You really didn’t have to stay home to take care of me. There’s not going to be a lot to do. I think I’m mostly going to sleep.”

“Regardless. I think it is better to be safe.” Elwain looked at you from the doorway for a moment longer. “I need you.”

He left the doorway. You could hear his footsteps retreating into your apartment, perfectly steady, like what he said hadn’t made your chest tighten intensely. You sank back into his bed. His scent wreathed around you, gentle and reassuring. Oh, god. Warm feelings were fluttering up in your stomach, swelling through chest and trembling in your lungs. Worse than that, they felt familiar. How long had these feelings been lingering in the background of your mind? And now they had surfaced and you didn’t know what to do with them. Naturally, you would have some kind of emotional crisis when you were sick.

You faded in and out of dreams where Elwain’s scent wreathed around you and his gentle hands stroked your forehead and cheeks. You woke up feeling oddly melancholy.

The sounds of the TV drifted through the open door. Shaking some feeling back into your heavy limbs, you hauled a blanket over your shoulders and headed into the living room.

Elwain was draped over the couch, staring at the TV. There was some soap opera on with a woman and a man hysterically throwing themselves at each other. Elwain looked up as you padded into the room. “Is it okay for you to be out of bed?” he asked.

“Yeah. I feel better, actually.” The sleep had helped quite a bit. You still felt foggy, but the pain in your head and chest had faded. Elwain sat up, drawing his limbs in closer to himself so you could sit next to him.

“You look less… corpse-like,” he said. Before you realized what he was doing, he took hold of your face in both hands and pulled you closer to him. “You are still warm.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m getting better.” You reached up and carefully pried his fingers off your face. You were overly aware of how your fingers lingered together. “How’s your day off going?”

“Human TV is still strange,” Elwain said, turning back toward the screen. “I can’t imagine any humans really behave like this. I have never seen it.”

“No, it’s a soap opera. It’s supposed to be deliberately over-the-top and crazy. That’s why they’re fun to watch.” Elwain rolled his eyes, but there was amusement in his expression.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” he asked.

“No, this is fine.” You settled into the soft cushions, staring at the TV. As much as you were looking in the direction of the TV, most of your attention was focused on Elwain. His gaze kept flicking toward you, as if he was unable to focus on the show either. After a moment, he reached out toward you.

One of his hands settled on your head, the other on your shoulder. Before you realized what had happened, he pushed you so your head was resting in his lap. You stared up at him as he, apparently unconcerned, started weaving his fingers through your hair.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“You did this for me when I first came here,” Elwain said. “It was soothing. I thought you might like it as well.” He paused. “Was I incorrect?”

You considered for a moment. His fingers were still carding through your hair, twining strands around his fingers. “No. I don’t mind.”

Elwain continued to stroke your hair. His nails scratched lightly at your scalp. The feeling of being touched made something tremulous swell in your chest. It was a pleasant feeling, but one so sharp and overwhelming that it almost made you cry.

You lay with Elwain for a while, his hands absently playing with your hair and trailing along your head and neck. He seemed to be paying far more attention to you than to the TV. “You should take better care of yourself,” he said, stroking your bangs back from your forehead. “If you were to die, I would be alone in the mortal world.”

“You’d manage,” you said.

“Perhaps.” Elwain removed his hands from your hair and hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be struggling to speak. Then he sighed. “But I would prefer it if you were with me.”

You looked up at him. He was staring deliberately to one side. There was a faint pinkish color to his cheeks and his eyes were narrowed. “You could have left, once our deal was up. I only asked you to stay with me for the night. And yet, you helped me. There was no reason to. I no longer have my connections or any particular Faerie skills. Even the few powers that remain with me, you don’t like me using. You have gained nothing from this deal and you help me regardless.”

“Of course, I did.” Thinking about that night only brought one image to your mind. Elwain, who had nearly been killed by his own parents, looking lost and confused and abandoned. He had been cocky before, but in that moment, he had just looked forlorn and upset. He had just looked scared. “I wasn’t going to just leave you on your own.”

“You could have,” Elwain pressed on. “Easily, you could have. You could have justified it, even by mortal morals. There’s not a lot here that could kill me. As you have pointed out, I would be fairly fine on my own. But you stayed with me regardless, for no other reason than just helping me.”

“You’d just almost been assassinated. I couldn’t leave you,” you said.

“You could have. But you didn’t. And, at least so far, you have asked for nothing from me in return. To be quite honest, you’ve been almost annoying with how little you allow me to do.”

“I try,” you said. Elwain snorted. It was an inelegant noise, but somehow also incredibly attractive. “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m trying to explain to you that I care about you. I want you to be well and safe and healthy because you saved me and you didn’t have to and I appreciate it.” Elwain’s cheeks flamed red. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”

You reached up slowly and let your hand cradle the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing. “It’s strange. I’m not used to this,” he said. “My parents loved me as far as they could use me. It’s how Faeries are. But you have used me for nothing, gained precious little advantage from having a Faerie living with you. And I wasn’t used to it. I still think I’m not used to it. But I am so… so… happy. For this. For you.” He blinked his eyes open. They were hazy with emotion. “Thank you.”

It was an impulse maybe you could have resisted if you were feeling better, but you were overwhelmed with feeling and not in the mood to fight with yourself. The hand on his cheek shifted position toward the back of his neck and pulled him down on top of you. His mouth pressed into yours, tense and unyielding, then softening as he realized what was happening.

There was a moment of fumbling, while Elwain registered that you were kissing. You broke away from his mouth, but he was pressing into you again, pulling you close to him and meeting your lips over and over with his own. His tongue brushed your lower lip and his moan sounded against your mouth.

You weren’t aware of how it happened, but suddenly you were lying back on the couch with Elwain on top of you. He was kissing you furiously, his hips flush to yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him as close to you as you could get.

One of your gasping breaths caught in your chest, triggering a coughing fit. You rolled over, trying not to cough right into Elwain’s face. He sat back. His lips were already slightly kiss-swollen and he looked a bit rumpled. “Right,” he said, trying to finger-comb his hair back into a presentable state. “You’re still not feeling well.”

“Hold on. Give me a minute, we can keep going,” you said between coughs. Elwain pressed his lips together, but they were twitching toward a smile.

“You are admirably determined, but I think it would be better for you to rest,” he said. There was a pause. Elwain tugged on a few of the longer strands of his hair. “I take that to mean you feel the same way?”

“That I like you? Yeah.” You pulled him down so he was laying across your chest. He looked at you, eyes surprisingly wide and innocent. “When I first met you, I thought you were kind of an asshole. And you are kind of an asshole. But you’re also charming and endearing and you try to follow my rules even when you totally don’t have to. And you’re willing to take care of me when I’m sick.”

“You took care of me when I had lost everything,” Elwain said. “I only wished to return the favor.” His fingers wandered over your stomach, tracing absent patterns on your shirt. You could feel his warmth against your skin. “Usually, that’s how it works, with Faeries. Favors are given because giving means you can get something in return, and you’re always trying to leverage the deal to get more than what you’re giving.” He closed his eyes for a moment, brows furrowing. “But when I saw you were sick, I wasn’t thinking that I needed to pay you back. I was only thinking that I wanted to help you.”

You stroked your fingers through his hair. “That’s what love is.”

“Mortal love,” he sighed. “I always thought it was flimsy and weak and short-lived.” His eyes opened again and he nestled into you. “It’s much stronger than I thought. So much more than I believed. It almost hurts, but it’s a good hurt.”

You started coughing again. Elwain swung himself up and gathered you into his arms. “I’ll take you back to bed,” he said. “You need to get better. I want to continue this.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. His heartbeat thudded against you, slow and steady. The feeling of him holding you swelled and ached inside you, a pleasant ache. You clung to him as he eased you into bed and settled in next to you. Your illness was all but forgotten. Everything was soft and pleasant under a heady wave of love.

[the-iron-orchid]

Developing Non-Apprentice Jinana more has given me a lot of Thoughts about the exact nature of the relationship between hir and Asra - it wasn’t toxic, per se, but it also wasn’t exactly healthy. They enabled each others’ avoidant tendencies in the worst way, but they also could not seem to break it off.

It started, as most of Jinana’s relationships at the time did, as being intensely physical. Of course, after a time, Asra’s natural wanderlust manifested itself, and Jinana took this in stride, as usual trying not to let hirself get too invested.

And then he came back... and left. And then he came back again. He could never stay... but he also could never stay away. They settled into a relationship where, when Asra was in Vesuvia, they were together. When he was not, they were each to their own - Jinana is naturally polyamorous anyway, and Asra is sufficiently unconcerned with convention that it makes sense for him to be, as well.

But when he was in Vesuvia, they were together, and the Masquerade was always theirs. And so it went, for five years.

For Jinana’s part, s/he assumed that someone who was gone so often could not possibly be serious, so s/he maintained a facade of emotional distance... but it was also the longest-running romantic relationship of hir life. Asra could sense the box he was in, but had little idea of how to break out, and was too afraid to confess the depth of his own feelings for hir (after years of denying it to himself and everyone else), so the cycle simply continued, right up until their big blowout during the Plague.

Though not in so many words, Jinana essentially told Asra that if s/he hadn’t followed Heron out of Vesuvia after his parents died, s/he was not about to follow him. (He had always known that he would occupy a secondary place to Heron, a parallel position at best.) And so he left once again.

The rest, of course, is history. Jinana’s death during his absence broke Asra in a very fundamental way, to the point that his guilt and pain drove him to commit a massive transgression against the natural order. His interim relationship with Julian was a product of multiple conflicting impulses - from the simple need for physical closeness, to the need to take out what he was feeling on an entirely willing target, to the sadly humorous knowledge that Jinana would have loved this sad masochistic bottom of a man.

Post-resurrection, his mental state was not improved by the knowledge that the Jinana of before would never have allowed him to see hir in such a terrible state, and he wrestled with a great deal of guilt even as he exhausted himself to care for hir. After a solid year of Asra’s struggle to rehabilitate Jinana, Heron returned to Vesuvia, and hir improvement took a very sharp upturn (largely because of having two supportive mentors and because of how well Heron knows hir - but it probably felt to Asra like he’d half-killed himself over the least year, only for Heron to swoop in and make it seem easy).

By the time of the events of the game, however, Asra has discovered that the way he feels about Jinana has changed. While his feelings are deeper than ever, it is no longer the desire to possess, or to be the most important person in hir life. He genuinely wants the best for hir and (once things are on the level with Julian) could not be happier that s/he has found people who will love hir as much as he does. He has become capable of an unconditional love, and that knowledge is as esoteric and experiential as anything occult; it fundamentally changes a person.

While there will always be ups and downs, learning this about himself makes him lose his fear, eventually enabling him to open up to the others and share a strong bond with three of the people he cares about most. He is able to indulge his wandering nature, knowing that not only does he always have a home to return to, but that the people he loves and trusts are caring for each other in his absence.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #341

“anger, misery, you’ll suffer unto me”

Would you risk your life to save a total stranger? I don't think so. Have you ever trashed your ex’s car after an argument? No, and I never would. Grow up. Have you ever done something because of peer pressure you are ashamed of? I don't believe so, no. Have you ever been embarrassed to introduce your parents to anyone? No. Would you leave a note on a car claiming responsibility if you damaged it? Yeah; guilt would eat me alive otherwise. Have you ever used someone's handicapped parking pass to get a parking spot? Fucking ew, no. Have you ever held back a well-deserved compliment because you were jealous? No. Do you guilt people into giving you what you want? Ugh, no. Would most people consider you better than average looking? Ha, no. For yourself, would you rather have a perfect body or high IQ? Give me the perfect body, living in my horrible one has affected my mental health badly enough. I'm fine with having a moderate IQ. I just want to feel happy in my own skin. Have you ever embarrassed some intentionally in public? Wow, no. Have you ever used a false ID? Also no. Are you embarrassed to tell people your job? I'm embarrassed to tell people I don't HAVE a job. Do you remember the first conversation you had with the person you have feelings for? I don't. I'm sure it was RP-related and not friendly, but I don't remember the exact convo. Have you ever got a D or F on your report card? I want to say no; I think the lowest I ever got was a C. If you had twins, would you give them rhyming names? Ugh, no. I'm sorry if you're into it, but I'm just not. I would want to ensure they knew their uniqueness and individuality was seen. Is there anyone that you wish was IN your life who used to be? There's a large number of those kinds of people. What brings out the worst in you? Probably when I'm building up towards a PTSD meltdown. I get VERY short and snappy and am convinced everyone hates and wants to leave me. My mouth also has NO fucking leash, and I know I can say very mean things that I'll regret later. What do you prefer, Skittles or Starbursts? Skittles. Mike & Ikes or Jolly Ranchers? Jolly Ranchers for sure. What is your favorite thing to eat with peanut butter? Waffles (with syrup). Don't knock it 'til you try it, I'm telling you. What are some wild animals commonly found where you live? Besides birds obviously, there's squirrels, deer, opossums, raccoons... Have you ever had a lucid dream? I think I've had just one. What's your biggest problem at the moment? Probably my anxiety having stunted my growth in so many areas. Have you ever turned down a job offer? I don't think so, no. What's the longest hospital stay you've had? For what? I think my longest was almost two months for suicidal thoughts. Two months might sound long, but it was like... my third or so psych hospital stay for that same reason. What's something really basic that you're terrible at? Even the most simple math. I don't even know the majority of my elementary multiplication tables. Have you ever hugged someone for over a minute? Yeah. Would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? I have one there already, but I plan on getting it covered because it was an impulse tattoo that I feel no connection towards. Have you ever searched for your house on Google Earth? My old house, yeah. Are you a beach, country, or city person? Country. Living in the suburbs has definitely reminded me of that... Are you faster at text messaging or typing on the computer? Typing, by a long shot. I make typos texting too much. Have you ever kissed anybody who had a mustache? Yeah. Who is the last person that you said "I love you" to, besides family members? Sara. When was your first real relationship? Sophomore year of high school to early college. Have you ever cried over an ex? I've cried the entire mass of water on Earth over an ex lmao. Have you ever kissed someone of the same sex? Yes. Is there something really bad that you’ve done, that only YOU know about? No. Have you ever copied someone else’s homework? I think I have once or twice, but obviously with consent. What’s a hobby you would like to try out? If my legs worked like actual legs and I didn't sweat like an absolute pig, I would like to try out herping, but without actually interacting with the animal like picking it up and scaring the daylights out of it. I'd just be happy enough looking for reptiles, amphibians, and inverts to photograph instead. Does that still even count as herping? What was the last event you attended? My youngest niece's birthday party. How about the last event you organized? I've never organized an event. What’s something you get excited about doing and want to do it right away? Whenever I take nature pictures, I'm immediately keen to get them into Lightroom and do the postproduction. Is there anything you feel you’re better at than anybody else? Definitely not. What’s the biggest insect you’ve ever seen? If you exclude places like the zoo, that would probably be a rhinoceros beetle or something. Oh no, actually some kind of local moth I don't know the name of. They're beautiful big white boiz. How about the biggest spider? I might be mis-remembering, but I believe at a reptile convention I went to with Sara, one of the vendors had a goliath bird eater tarantula in one of the cups. I do know it was some tarantula species for sure, though. Who was the first person to break your heart? My dad. Obviously not romantically, but him just splitting on the family with no proper communication absolutely broke my heart for years. First person to give you flowers or candy on Valentine’s day? I'm sure that would be my parents. If you exclude them 'cuz that's kinda obvious, I believe it was Aaron, my first boyfriend. I'm pretty sure we were together on Valentine's Day, because I remember getting him a giant Hershey's Kiss. First band you obsessed about? I wasn't truly obsessed with any band 'til Ozzy in middle school. Can you do a backflip? No; I've never tried and never will. I was and still am too afraid of breaking my neck. Like I have a MASSIVE fear of paralysis, particularly from the neck down; that fear is actually the biggest one that keeps me from driving, fun fact. Are you an optimist or a pessimist? Of the two, definitely a pessimist, but I at least think I align most with being a realist. What’s the biggest lie you’ve told someone? I'm unsure. Have you ever been hit on by someone of the same sex? Yeah. How many doors are in the room you’re in? Just one. Have you ever been engaged and broke it off? No. Has anyone ever drawn a picture of you? Tyler once drew a picture of him and me. It was cute. That guy still dove in WAY too fast. Have you ever dated a redhead? I haven't, but I love redheads. Natural red hair is just gorgeous. What are your thoughts on facial hair on guys? Historically, I seem to generally like some, but it really depends on the guy's general appearance. I can like none at all or a full beard and mustache, it doesn't really matter to me. Did you go anywhere today? No; my mom is in Florida with her brothers totally cleaning out Grammy's house, so she's not here to take me anywhere. Do you have any nieces or nephews? Oh yikes, I have a lot. I honestly can't count because I've lost track of how many boys and girls Katie has. You have a choice to shoot your father or die, what would you do? Jesus. I'd rather die; some things just aren't worth living after, and I'd have no desire to keep going if I killed my father. Did you ever cry at the end of King Kong? I've never watched it, actually, but I. LOVED. The video game. I haven't played it in years and only faintly remember how it ends, but I don't remember crying. Are you in any amount of pain at the moment? Quite a lot, actually. It's kinda a TMI subject so I won't delve into it, just know I'm hurting like a bitch. What was the last sugary thing you ate? I snacked on some chocolate chips earlier today... which I really shouldn't have done, but I think I had reasonable restraint and didn't totally binge. When was the last time you did something extremely stupid? Who knows, that's not a rare occurrence, it feels like. Have you been to any parties lately? Only my niece's bday party in February. Thankfully it was kept pretty small, given Covid; not that anyone in that family besides my sister gives a flying fuck about precautions, though... Can you touch your pinky to your thumb around your wrist? Ugh, no. Close, but not enough. I still have thin wrists and hands, but yeah, yay for being overweight. If you were to start a charity, what would you call it? I'd hve to put more thought than I'm willing for one survey question. I'd have to decide what KIND of charity I want to start first, which I'm unsure of. Probably something related to animal wellfare and conservation or something similar to the Trevor Project. Maybe LBGTQ+ youth disowned by their families... I dunno. There's so much good I wish I could do. Are you comfortable with your body? Holy fuck no. It's only gotten worse since I started gaining weight again and almost entirely erased all weight loss progress I'd made. What is your recent inside joke? Most recently made? Idk, man. I don't make those often. Would you rather be a human, vampire, or a werewolf? Er, I'm good with being a human. If I was a vampire or werewolf, I wouldn't exactly be very welcomed, I'm sure, and both have seemingly painful traits to cope with. Are you good at giving directions? It is absolutely impossible for me. I have NO sense of direction, like, at all. I don't know highway names, local exits, etc. etc. etc. etc. Why did you last curse? Pain when readjusting myself due to aforementioned issue I'm having. What is your purpose in life? I hope it involves animals and spreading words of peace and an appreciation for art. What is one of your weak points? I'm very, very, very dependent on others. I'm really working on trying to correct that. I can barely do shit on my own as is. Who was the last person you heard snoring? My cat, haha. Would you rather shower by yourself or with another person? 100% by myself. Another person would just get in the way and make me VERY self-conscious of my body, even if it was my romantic partner. Just please leave me alone to hate myself for 10 minutes. :^) What was your last addiction? You could say my current one is John Wolfe, a really funny let's player I've gotten into. Been bingeing some of my favorite games he has playlists of for a few weeks now. You are in a tank full of spiders, what do you do? Well one, I'd like to know what kind they are. Venomous? Harmless? You gotta give me the details. If I don't have any, then I'm admittedly freaking the fuck out, even though I know I should stay very calm when trying to get out. Fear would win, though. If killing yourself meant saving the world, would you? Saving the world from what? But odds are, yeah. I don't cherish my pretty damn mediocre life more than I do the lives of what, 8 billion people? Have you ever stayed up all night just to talk to someone? Yeah. When was the last time you eavesdropped someone? I kinda do that sometimes when Mom's on the phone and I can hear her from my room, and if they're on speaker. Particularly if the subject is me. When was the last time you went to a club? I've never been to one. How have you been sleeping? Poorly. Are you adopted? No, I'm not. Do you like scrapbooking? Not really, no. Do you collect anything valuable? "Valuable to me." <<<< This. Nothing of great monetary worth, though. Have you ever been beaten up? No, thankfully. Do you know anyone with an eating disorder? I don't think so, in my personal life. What was the last thing you killed? An ant. Have you ever used someone for money? I never could, no. When was the last time you went to the zoo? Sigh, it's been many many years. I'm so ready to get my goddamn legs back in shape so I can go again, this time with a REAL camera, too. Last time I went was when I still only had a Kodak EasyShare; I have a professional Canon camera now with much more education on photography too, so I would be in absolute heaven with at least twenty memory cards in need, haha. Maybe next fall... Is there a teacher you hate more than anything? I actually never had a teacher I hated in my entire school career. It really, really is as simple as just being a respectful student. In most cases, I should emphasize, because I do understand some educators just suck. Now I had some teachers I wasn't very fond of, but most certainly none that I hated. Do you own colored eyeliner? No. Do you have manners? I honestly think I'm very mannerly. When was the last time that you had a pet that died? We last had to put my dog Teddy down; he had cancer and was literally withering away. I knew in my very core that even if we didn't bring him to the vet to euthanize him, he would've died naturally in a very short period of time; I doubt he would've survived another night. Now I'd like to move on. What is your favorite medication that you take, and why? The combination of Vraylar and Lamictal is the reason I'm alive. It keeps my bipolarity and depression under control. Do you decorate Mason jars? No, but those are some of my favorite crafts visually. They're very pretty and cute. Can you see the mountains from where you live? Oh hunny, I wish. Did you ever play pranks on April Fool’s Day? As a kid, yeah. I don't anymore. I'm not really even a fan of April Fool's Day as an adult because of how cruel some jokes assholes play are. Which instrument would you play if you could learn to play one? Maybe violin. Do you part your hair on the left side, right side, or in the middle? The left. What are some names you like that start with the first letter of your name? Uhhhh Bianca, Braelynn (look I know it's so stereotypically Southern but it's pretty)... and idk from there, those are the two that come to mind first.

[widcwed-rasa]

Note: this is part of Rasa’s now annual tradition to write her feelings out and “speak” to her deceased husband through letters she seals and hides away. Nobody knows about their existence. Read it at your discretion.

Khatanga - October 24th, 2120.

My dearest husband,

Two days have passed since the anniversary of your death, and this year has been turbulent, to say the least. After years of watching my parents giving me sideways glances and whispering things behind my back when they thought I was out of earshot, I decided it was finally time for me to go away. They've been pressuring me to come out of my shell for so long that I believed giving them what they wanted would mean I would get a break. I was wrong.

This Khatanga experiment seems fucked up if you ask me. I understand why our parents are concerned about our safety, but throwing us all in the same place didn't sound like the smartest idea. I wish you could be here with me. You would understand what I'm talking about, though I can't say there haven't been interesting moments. I won't get ahead of myself here. Let me try to recount things as chronologically as I can.

Ausra and I made our way here together. I suppose our parents either assumed the two of us together would make this transition easier on me, or they decided she was ready to be pushed into a marriage. Whichever scenario, the result will probably be the same. And since Daina has recently arrived here as well, I imagine we'll soon all be facing the same circumstance, but so far, it's just been me.

I guess one of the first few things that happened after we arrived was stumbling into Maggie one night. You remember her, right? She's been a little crestfallen over the idea of seeing Matthias around here more often than anyone would have wished to see their ex. It's understandable, and her feelings are valid, I just don't know why anyone would make her suffer. To make matters worse, I believe Matty might be oblivious to it, which kinda makes me want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. They don't have a clue how lucky they are that things ended when they did. I keep telling people that love brings nothing but pain. Nobody believes me. No one ever seems to comprehend why I wouldn't wish this on anyone. I've just been trying to warn them. Nevertheless, I did for Maggie what any good friend should do. Actually, maybe I've done a bit more than that, but you know me. I cannot see a pretty girl upset without lending them a helping hand— or whatever else they might require. You'll be glad to hear that we have rekindled our estranged friendship, and now it's probably at the best point it's ever been.

I think it might have been at the end of May. Or was it the beginning of June?! I can't remember it too well. Anyway, it was just shortly after our arrival as well when I received a letter from mama with news that would change my life forever. Not right away, no, because I preferred to block it all out and pretend it had never happened. I thought if I could simply ignore it, therefore it couldn't be true. My world of fantasy crumbled just weeks later, and, as usual, it happened in the worst way possible.

When I agreed to come to Russia, I thought my parents would allow me a breathing moment without having to hear about my next marriage. It's still too weird to consider it, or the fact that it's really in motion. Overall, I'm surprised they managed to find a family that was willing to take me in as their daughter. Let's be honest, the past couple of years have been far from my most gracious times, and it's not as if I'm making any effort to change that. So why? Why would anyone want to associate their son with someone like me? My therapist would say I put myself down as self-sabotage. Well, I never saw her in any great rush to marry me and prove me wrong!

Anyway, my parents have been able to settle the terms of my betrothal with Eamon O'Rourke of Ireland. He's not the first in line for the throne— thank goodness for that! Can you imagine what it would be like if I were the queen of any place? —, he's younger than I am by a few years— his twin sister is one of Ausra's best friends. Maybe I should try to see if she's involved in this somehow —, and he has this shocking head of red hair that's pretty much the first thing you ever notice about him. It seems a little bit like Ausra's hair, but with a little more of an orange undertone, like the sky during sunset after a long period of drought. And... I slept with his older brother a few years ago, a piece of information he took surprisingly well, I might add.

As it habitually happens to me, when we met, or more accurately, when he snuck up on me, I made a fool out of myself. First impressions have never been my forte. You would find the entire thing hilarious, and the problem is: so did I. Not hilarious, or funny, but you know I have this proclivity for smiling or laughing when I get nervous, and I laughed for long minutes. It probably felt even longer for him. He deserves someone a tad more tactful. Instead, he got stuck with me. Eventually, we sorted that out. We seem to have a lot of dark things in common. The sort of things that would make most people run for the hills without ever looking back. If he hasn't found a deal-breaker in the past couple of days, there's a chance all this darkness in me isn't triggering to him, and this wedding might end up happening. I'm scared. And don't give me one of those bullshit speeches about facing our fears. I want to be able to chicken out like the good coward that I am.

Since our meeting was far from ideal, I thought it called for reparation. So I looked for him during the masquerade event so we might have more of a chance to talk and get to know one another. We drank and asked a bunch of questions. As it turns out, we both prefer to live in the country, and we might move to Italy after we're married, and his sister also is. Oh, and he's a cat person. Do you think I could have a cat...? Our drinking game went better than I thought it would. Maybe it could be our thing.

While here, I also had the chance to spend more time around Maggie's brother, Ivan. Nothing about our rendezvous was expected, and I must say it took a peculiar turn. Maggie invited me for tea one afternoon, but she didn't show. Instead, Ivan came around for the same reason: meeting his sister there. We quickly came to the conclusion it wasn't an accident that we were both there. Maggie had pulled those strings. I'm still not sure why. Perhaps Ivan got to the bottom of that situation, and I should ask him. The idea of spending my afternoon sipping tea with someone I barely knew wasn't among my favorite activities, and I doubt it figured among his as well. There were probably more interesting things a crown prince could be doing, but him producing a flask of whatever booze from a pocket helped with our bonding process. Immensely. With a snap of the fingers, we became acquainted with the other one's flirtatious sides, building up a tension I didn't even know existed between us. He instigated my curiosity, and I hate to admit that he had me hanging on every word just to see what would follow. I'd like to think stumbling into me also wasn't the most conventional thing that's ever occurred to him. There might be some other buttons to push or undo there. I don't know which ones yet, and I might be willing to go ahead and do that. Eventually. It's something that will come to me.

Now, let me circle back to the masquerade ball we had... So many things happened. I don't even know where to start. A few days before the party, we received letters telling us that the organization had picked out dates for everyone. f I already had my doubts about attending, giving me an obligation while I was at it wasn't how anyone would convince me I would have a nice time. My pair for the evening was Prince Callister from Greece. A very superman sort of man. Seriously, the guy looks like some artisan sculpted him in marble. As polite as polite could be. In fact, if politeness ever had a picture in the dictionary, he would be there with a smile upon his face. After fulfilling our mandatory duty, I didn't want to keep him for longer. Life's too short for us not to do what we want to do, and the man is clearly besotted with his fiancée. What a rookie mistake. Therefore, he wasn't my type.

After I freed Callister from his obligation, I sought for things I could do while I was still there, otherwise, the evening would have been a waste of my time and a beautiful dress— Oh my God, I sounded just like Day! Never tell her that! —although terrible shoes. It was how I came across the Devil. Or, well, that's how he first introduced himself, and it led to such a frustrating experience.

He invited me to dance. I could never turn down something like that. Especially not when it already felt like something I hadn't done in forever. So we danced, and we talked, and we teased enough to feel like maybe we should have been doing something other than just dancing. We kissed, and things heated up quickly. The way he was touching me made it clear he wanted more. I wanted more. Unfortunately, being too honest sometimes has its problems. I told him there was a lot about the past couple of years that I couldn't remember, and he decided to use that information against me so he could leave me wanting more. He told me that was the best way to make sure someone was memorable. Can you believe that?! He dared me to find him afterward, which would be a lot easier if we had exchanged names or anything like that. Now I'm stuck with a vague sense of recognition, a challenge, and curiosity. It's terrible!

You will be proud to hear that I've made a new friend. And, of course, that happened in the least predictable way possible. She drenched the hem of my skirts with champagne. She was mortified when it happened. I was more along the lines of amused. Sure, maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have found it as endearing if she wasn't stunning. And those eyes... Those eyes, I tell you. They look like they're staring right into your soul. Sarika is a sweet woman, and she's also been through a lot. No wonder we seemed to attract each other. There might be a couple of things I could teach her as well, after all, I've been doing this mourning thing for eight years now. I've picked up some stuff here and there. If people want to give me those pity eyes, the least they should expect is for me to use that for something. This can't just be the kind of situation in which only I lose. Sometimes we need to try leveling that playfield, and it's something I know I can help her. We might be the only ones who are truly able to understand how the other feels. She was even willing to be here with me when I just wanted the whole world to be gone. I like her. I'm keeping her.

The masquerade had some intriguing twists and turns, but I suppose running into Valentin of Austria had a riveting turn out. Maybe I've read him completely wrong from our first few meetings. When we first crossed paths back in spring, he seemed like the sort of man who held back a lot. He always seemed to dodge and skirt around things he truly wanted to do, and I don't know why he'd have such reservations. Anyway, I convinced him to steal a bottle of booze for us to share. It didn't take a lot of persuading, which is probably what led me to believe there are things he wants to do, but he's reluctant. During the event, when I saw him, there were two things he wanted to do: go up on stage and sing and kiss me. I wasn't going to wait and see whether I win or lose a bet to kiss someone, so I did just that before he even had the chance to finish his proposition. Still, he went on stage anyway for his rendition of Britney Spears. I thought it was an odd choice, but it isn't my place to judge. My karaoke songs aren't what others would call conventional either. Maybe I was a little upset over the fact that he had already gotten the girl, but I had to cut my losses. When does life ever go the way I want it anyway?! He sang. We kissed. It was a win-win situation. Making out with him had unanticipated results, and he was far more willing to move past the boundaries of decency than I thought he'd be. Sure, he first freaked me out when he talked to me about love, but once we pushed past that obstacle, everything was great. He might turn into a friend with benefits. We'll see.

I saw Eamon again the other day. You know how I tend to shut myself in around this time of the year, and there are far more people here than I would have wanted to deal with when I'm in my right state of mind. When everything goes south, I push everyone away. I can be especially hard to handle during those episodes, and it was worse when I felt suffocated in a place where so many people seemed to have such easy access to me. So I bribed a maid to give me the location of a spot most people wouldn't think of looking for me: Eamon's room. Most people know how I feel about our contract betrothal. Ausra's still under the assumption our meeting went fabulously wrong— I'll tell her about it eventually —so no one would have reason to look for me there. I had already been there before a few times. He was never there. It was just a calm place for me to be when the world became too much. I don't generally touch anything, just sit or lie down in the most complete silence until my demons are appeased, and I feel like circling back to my room. But this time, he showed up while I was at it. I cannot begin to imagine how odd it must have been for him to open that door and find a woman he'd met like yesterday sobbing on his bed. It's hard to tell how he'll respond to what he encountered now that he's had the time to process everything, so I suppose I'll just have to wait to find out what the future has in store there.

I feel like this concludes my reports on the most impressive things that have happened to me lately, which means we're reaching the end of this.

I'll see you whenever I have more things to tell, well, you know how this goes.

Truthfully,

Rasa.

P.S.: I saw a man with his daughter the other day. She’s seven. That seems to have brought me way too many feelings I wasn’t prepared for. So, fuck you very much for putting the plans of having children inside my head all those years ago.

[all-blue-headcanons]

@wereallmadhere000 - Hey there, thanks for the ask! Admittingly this one was a little hard for me to write as the yandere trope is pretty... specific which it’s hard to imagine one of these two boys being like that? Therefore I’m taking a few liberties with things, so I’m hoping you don’t mind too much!

Yandere Eustass Kid with Reader Headcanons

+ Being in a relationship with Eustass “Captain” Kid is no easy matter. The man is as fierce as he is possessive, armed with an explosive temper as well as a natural disposition towards casual violence. Even towards his own crew, the captain of the Kid Pirates is a harsh leader without much tolerance towards fuck ups and disobedience so you’re going to have to develop nerves of steel in dealing with this hot-tempered man if you hope to get with him! - That being said, he’s not an ‘abusive’ partner. Rather, Kid feels intensely and lust often goes hand in hand with aggression, both volatile and rich emotions that can eat away at a person if left unchecked. Just as Kid relishes violence and bloodlust, so too does he crave close intimacy with his loved ones of which he has very few in this merciless world. Killer, his childhood friend and companion, is one of those few people that Kid feels such deep platonic love for as the Massacre Soldier was the only person he was able to rely on during a loveless upbringing. + That means that Killer is the only person Kid trusts to be around you. Even Heat and Wire are growled at sometimes if they start getting too friendly with you in his eyes, the red-haired man very much preferring to be the centre of attention in your little world. God forbid any of the lower crew members try anything funny; Kid will happily beat their ass senseless and toss them overboard into the sea, not caring much if they’re able get back on board or not. - People soon learn to keep their eyes away from you, let alone dare give you much attention... + While Kid is not (intentionally) abusive, he can be harsh and even seem uncaring at times. This isn’t down to any malice or disdain towards his lover, however - rather the man has no experience on how a healthy relationship is supposed to work. What Kid considers to be affectionate is often possessive and clingy at times, the man becoming desperately needy for attention and isn’t afraid to become a petty little shit when he doesn’t get what he wants. - A cold shoulder along with the silent treatment are the usual responses towards any perceived slight, which can be strangely disconcerting given the captain’s usually brash behaviour. For everybody else, the tension on board can be cut with a knife as Kid pointedly ignores his lover... but it never lasts for long. Once his petulance burns itself out, the man is back for more, playing it extra sweet in the hopes of getting you to play with him again. + Killer is the one who has to explain it to you once he realizes how serious the relationship between you and Kid has grown. Thanks to the World Government’s actions in South Blue after the end of Gol D. Roger’s era, many parents either abandoned their children or were brutally killed trying to protect them due to governmental officials wiping out as many of the ex-Pirate King’s ‘potential spawn’ as possible. Kid is one of those survivors and his childhood was as brutal as it was unforgiving, leaving the boy with no other option than to grow up as quickly as possible. - Whatever parental figures he had at the time cared little for the red-haired boy during his youth, leaving him to figure out his own path in life. Kid’s earliest life lessons were that few people were to be trusted, much less accepted into the angry youth’s heart... or at least that was the case until Killer came into his life, the tall blond remaining to this day one of the only people understanding enough to deal with Kid’s eccentricities. Nobody knows better than the Massacre Soldier that Kid is not a conventional partner and will be there to support both you and his childhood friend, knowing full well what his friend has experienced and to prevent a rift growing between the two of you. + In time, Kid learns to become a more wholesome partner but it’ll take a lot of patience, time and understanding from you, almost as much as Killer himself to be able to handle your captain at his worst. No matter what, he’ll remain as fierce and possessive as he ever was but will learn how to handle any grievances in a healthier fashion... - “What the hell, Kid? You got blood all over me again!” You yell while wiping your face clean of crimson splatters, a headless marine dropping to the floor beside you. You can only watch as the man sheepishly grins despite the battle raging all the two of you and shrugs. “What? He was checking out your ass behind your back!”

Yandere Doflamingo with Reader Headcanons

+ In all honestly, there’s not much difference in a relationship between Yandere!Doflamingo and Regular!Doflamingo. The man is a self-proclaimed God, a Celestial Dragon and Child of the Heavens despite long having since been thrown out of Mary Geoise along with his family. Even though many years have passed since that terrible day, Doflamingo has become King once again and his word in Dressrosa is law above all... - Unlike Kid, Doflamingo actually enjoyed plenty of healthy exposure to a loving relationship from the start of his troubled life. His parents were unconditionally loving towards their children and each other despite the difficulties they soon themselves after having descended to the ‘world of humans’ below and it is due to these experiences that Doflamingo has his own peculiar views on love. In his eyes, love towards him truly is unconditional - and to break that means you never truly loved him at all. + That being said, Doflamingo adores you intensely and like Kid, it is a fierce and possessive affection. Unlike Kid however, it is one that the Heavenly Demon feels he is completely and utterly entitled to and his wrath knows no bounds when he doesn’t get what he wants. He’ll move mountains if he has to and tear heaven and earth asunder if he must, but you are his and his alone and need to understand that as soon as possible. - On the surface, you look like any other of the many young admirers and lovers that frequently stop by the palace. There is never any shortage of women and even the occasional man hoping to secure a favourable position likes yours when it’s obvious you’re the man’s most favoured partner, yet despite their best efforts, Doflamingo is content to play only for a short while before returning his affections back to you. + “What’s the matter, love? Did you think anything about that was actually serious?” Doflamingo will chuckle if you seem put out at all by this behaviour, the man treating you more like a favourite toy than an actual person and partner. It’s hypocritical in a way, that Doffy can seem to play with whomever he wants but if anybody should so much as look your way... - “Young Master!” The Donquixote Family will cry out in shock as Doflamingo suddenly cuts down a few lowly recruits for the simple crime of looking at you in a way he doesn’t like. To Doflamingo, it is a crime even more unforgivable than laughing at his family, such filthy men daring to lust so openly for his partner right before his eyes! You don’t get to go out so often after that particular incident, for Doflamingo would gladly kill any number of people who so much as looks at you the wrong way. + Doflamingo’s possessiveness only grows worse over time the more he’s attached to you, the longer you’ve been together. Having lost so many of his own family members over the years, he takes no chance in risking losing you as well; only the Donquixote Family is to be around you, long term members that the man feels as though he can trust with you alone, even if he has to have somebody watching you at all times. Never are you to go anywhere by yourself, let alone speak to anybody outside of those ‘allowed’ to interact with you. - This isolation can be as stifling as his possessiveness at times, especially when Doflamingo is busy with work but he’d rather that and cage you, his precious little pet, than risk letting you fly free. When you entered this relationship, you knew full well what you were getting yourself into and of the kind of man you were getting involved with... + “Let you go? Whatever for, my darling? Do you not enjoy the finest food, the most beautiful scenery and gifts anybody could hope to enjoy? I am your God, Name. You need nothing else in life, only me...” Doflamingo will purr if you ever dare bring up the subject, his large and powerful hands caressing your form that even though he’s not using his strings, he might as well be doing so for all the control he has over you now.

[airyravenmaid]

V3 Talentswap AU

Self-control who, don’t know her

I’ve been doing a little collaboration with my dear friend @dreamydiamond putting together a full-on Talentswap for the V3 peeps bc everyone likes different talent AU’s, don’t they? At this moment in time, there is no exact designated protag/deuterag/antag-rival/Mastermind bc it’s literally just been fun old brainstorming, but here are some brief, general descriptions of what’s what under the cut.

Ultimate Pianist - Toujou Kirumi: Enjoys making others happy with her music and will play (almost) any song asked of her, though she seems to have an unspoken preference towards softer tempo songs. Open to learning as many different kinds of songs as possible from her beliefs of music being the number one thing to soothe even the savagest of beasts. Took over piano from her mentor who suffered a serious hand injury and was left unable to play any longer, also prompting her to wear gloves in case she ever went through the same fate.

Ultimate Detective - Shinguuji Korekiyo: (NOT A FUGGING SERIAL KILLER HERE; THIS IS A HOUSE OF CHRIST) Dedicated primarily to his work that will someday make him a full-fledged sleuth without his parents’ aid. Gained notoriety as a sleuth following a domestic abuse case ending with the arrest of his (now disowned) elder sister, but wasn’t able to leave without the trauma that came with it. As a result, he’s rather apprehensive when it comes to non-platonic relationships and prefers to direct as much of his focus away from them as possible.

Ultimate Astronaut - Ouma Kokichi: A misanthropic astronaut-in-training with one goal in mind: conquering the galaxy and destroying the planet with nary a drop of mercy for anyone else. Believes he’s higher and mightier than any “Earthling scum” and will gladly show so, using contradictions and fibs to hide what well may be his true self buried underneath. Nonetheless, he seems interested in seeing if there are any “rare ones” that could somehow prove to be worth his time, but severely doubts he could be stood corrected. Could he?

Ultimate Magician - Harukawa Maki: The self-proclaimed master of the arcana and dark arts, she often secludes herself from others in order to perfect her spells and concoctions, believing non-magical creatures may “curse” her and leave her efforts for naught. Having used to do magic shows before growing to hate them and quitting, she also seems to be a reluctant hit with children despite the frigid, unfriendly exterior she gives at first glance. Warns people that magic isn’t a toy or show gag, but is very seldom heeded and brushed off as “crazy”.

Ultimate Aikido Master - Saihara Shuichi: Initially bullied to no end by his peers, he sought martial arts as his way out after taking advice from his beloved uncle and developed an adequate way to defend himself. Because of this, he’s highly disciplined and doesn’t believe something as sacred as aikido should be used for any other reason. Being easily startled, it’s not wise to try and sneak up on or spook him; you will get tossed at best and en route to the hospital for broken ribs at worst as a result.

Ultimate Child Caregiver/Assassin - Akamatsu Kaede: Started out as a simple daycare assistant that’s a born natural with children, but was later taken by a mysterious organization and brainwashed using a sleeper code to test her capabilities. Following her first kill that she doesn’t remember, she was then actively trained into a killer-for-hire, which she’s done everything in her power to keep a secret from the children and everyone else. Some say that uttering her old code will temporarily re-activate her deadly trance, but that’s just a silly rumor! ...Right?

Ultimate Cosplayer - Yumeno Himiko: A longtime lover of the magical girl genre that fell in love with their colorful designs and longed to recreate their outfits for her own to don. Had gotten her first taste of sewing work from having to patch up holes in her clothes and others, which eventually grew with modifying her school uniforms to fit her smaller stature and paved the path to cosplay. Sets up stands at conventions that sell cosplay outfits and wigs for a “reasonable” (to her, at least) price, if only to make up for being terrible at delivering adequate fanart of her favorite mahou shoujou anime shows.

Ultimate Robot - 10-K0, aka “Tenko”: A fully functional android programmed with an intense dislike of robophobes and “degenerate males” created by the esteemed Professor Chabashira (who is also male, but she greatly reveres him and the contradiction hasn’t clicked yet). Has a great sense of empathy and can get a good reading on someone using a simple scan, and despite not being entirely invincible, will serve as a protector for any fair maiden that needs her.

Ultimate Entomologist - Iidabashi Kiibo: More in-tuned to befriend bugs than people as a result of (and resulting in) being harassed by other children over the years, but managed to not let his heart turn bitter from it nonetheless. The son of a biologist father, he grew to discover his own research with arachnids and insects to learn the lifestyles of such small creatures that play such a big role in everyday life. Though he loves his bugs, he also seems to yearn for a human friend to call his own that actually accepts him and his “bizarre” interests.

Ultimate Artist - Gokuhara Gonta: Lost in the woods from an early age, he fell in love with nature and sought to find a way of immortalizing it to its fullest potential. His large size and massive strength make him best at creating sculptures, but his unexpectedly gentle hands are what helps convey his muse through paintings and sketches. Still an aspiring gentleman that hopes to show his sophisticated works to the world, but is also prone to aggressive outbursts when faced with intense enough artist’s block and seeing his art be disrespected.

Ultimate ??? - Hoshi Ryouma: Doesn’t remember too much about his talent or past life save for vague flashes hinting towards it, which he’s only gathered that he’d done something atrocious to warrant being on the lam and sent running to too many places all over the globe. In spite of his amnesia, it seems he doesn’t care if he never gets those memories back if the implied crimes were too horrible to recall in the first place.

Ultimate Inventor - Amami Rantaro: Shown a gift for tinkering at a young age, though was initially apprehensive with making it too big of a deal and making it his primary living in life until he came to enjoy doing so over time. Makes small gadgets for his younger sisters and larger, more complex gadgets that would be beneficial to anyone even if technically in the “prototype” stage. Overall leans more towards making things that’d be useful and not just for fun, but if he trusts someone enough, he’ll likely be more up for bending that rule just a little.

Ultimate Anthropologist - Yonaga Angie: A devout traveler who’s been all over the globe following the word of different religions believing she is the vessel for every deity ever known. Personally prefers the word of her home island’s god, but beckons to all depending on their culture’s faith. Carefully studies humanity in seeing how vast they are in everyday life and primarily looks into their creation myths and pantheon.

Ultimate Supreme Leader - Shirogane Tsumugi: Claims to have been raised into the line of succession for a dangerous organization she believes will bring the downfall of man itself if crossed too much. Wonders how such a “plain” girl such as herself wound up in such a position of power and blames it solely on good luck, but isn’t complaining much otherwise. The day she’s in charge is the day she plans on making the best she’s ever lived.

Ultimate Tennis Pro - Momota Kaito: The unlikely “Shining Star of the Court” that’s come a long way in conquering tennis leagues from all over the nation, but seems to be hiding something he fears will hinder his athleticism. Advocates for keeping a healthy lifestyle both in diet and physiology, and aims to train as hard as he can to stay almost invincible in the face of difficulty. Won’t hold back during a game, but wants his opponents to have as fair of a shot as possible against him if they intend to win.

Ultimate Maid - Iruma Miu: Started from a poorer background and needed to find a way to make a better living for herself, so what better way than putting her “natural good looks” to great use? Is very good at what she does, but her inappropriate comments and nature makes everyone hesitant to trust things she’s prepared in addition to finding her “sexy maid” jokes too off-putting to laugh at. Thinks her skills are better than sliced bread and bellows how people should be thankful for needing her, but one mistake pops her bravado like a bubble and she crinkles at the slightest criticisms.

[this-lioness]

Quaranmemes for Quarantines

Tagged by @reallyginnyf​ <3  Putting this under a cut since it’s pretty much doubling as my weekend wrap-up as well.

when was the last time you left your home? On Thursday I had to run a few quick no-contact errands -- dropped a bulk mailing off on the rear platform at the post office, deposited a Fedex envelope into one of their pickup boxes, and then ran some miscellaneous groceries over to my Mom’s house.  Today I went for a run, but only around the neighborhood, so that doesn’t feel like it counts. 

what was the last thing you bought? I’ve actually been doing a bit of online shopping lately -- bought a sewing machine (still need to sit down and set it up), a gas-powered pressure washer (arrived today), a new bathroom scale and a vacuum sealer.  Last thing we bought in-store were some small necessities from Walmart.

is quarantine driving you insane or are you finally relaxed? This is tough to answer, because I’m never actually relaxed.

I worry about someone in my immediate family getting sick, but beyond that the quarantine doesn’t really trouble me.  I’m largely a homebody, and honestly this has kept us from a lot of unnecessary spending, so all the places I’d probably be going would just be buying shit that we really don’t need. I think my anxiety only ramps up when we have to go somewhere, like when my parents need groceries, and we have to go through the whole process of masks and gloves and fully decontaminating everything once we get home.  We have it down to a science, but it’s still a whole process.

But I’m frankly enjoying the time at home.  I’m a very “routine” person -- I’m comforted by having lists of things I need to do, and places to put things, and then doing it all by rote.  We worked very hard to make our house be a place where we enjoy being, creating, relaxing and working, and now we’re reaping the benefit of all those things.

who are you spending quarantine with? My husband Marc and all the cats.  I only see my parents long enough to drop things off at their house.

do you have pets to keep you company? We have three of our own -- Bones, Spencer and Rosie -- plus two fosters, Baby and Blue.  There is also a semi-feral cat, Fidget, that we feed and care for, and he occasionally spends a night inside if it’s particularly cold or wet out.

what are your current responsibilities? We’re both very fortunate in that we are fully capable of working from home, and both our employers are in full gear.  Mine is actually busy enough to need to hire new people for the sudden influx of work, apparently. So I work my “day job” during the day, and when I’m not working I’m cleaning and doing laundry, trying to keep our chest freezer topped up with ready-to-prepare meals, a lot of organizing and a bit of gardening.  I really need to sit down and do something creative, although my muse has been completely dead for... longer than I’d care to admit.  I’m going to give it a bit of a try tonight, though, so we’ll see.

Just lately I’ve been on a purging spree.  Thursday, Friday and yesterday I cleaned out every corner of the art room / office and made three piles of craft supplies to give away.  I also gathered together two enormous bags of various clothes and gave that away as well.  My next step is probably to switch out my winter wardrobe for the summer stuff, although we’re expecting a good week of cold, rainy weather so... maybe not quite yet.

do you have a room to yourself? Well, if I ever needed time to myself I could certainly find it.  The art room / office is unoccupied when we’re not working, and when we are I can always come down to the living room or go into the bedroom with my laptop, or I’ve got a little “writing chair” in the dining room, by the back patio, that’s nice to sit in.  I can be content anywhere in the house, basically.

are you exercising? I wasn’t, but a few days ago I decided to change that.  I need to get better control over my physical well-being (and self-image), so I made myself a little weight / diet log, included columns for water intake and exercise, and signed up for a “virtual 5k”.  Today it was just warm enough to get outside, so I went for a run.  Technically we went for a run, but Marc got winded not too far into it and had to head home again.  I grabbed my earbuds and went back out.

Got in 2.27 miles before deciding to head back home.  Because the weather is going to be shitty I plan to kick the fosters out of their room for at least 45 minutes every day so that I can get some treadmill time in.  With any luck we’ll shortly have space cleared in the attic so that we can do yoga and maybe barre as well.  

town, country, city? We’re in a semi-rural suburb in Bucks County, PA.  It’s... suburban, but very very blue collar, and there’s plenty of farms around, large and small.

how’s your toilet paper supply? We seem to be OK.  I am a prepper by nature, and I made sure to stock up before things started to get bad.  I’m also being very mindful of how much I use, which helps.  I’m more worried about my folks, who blow through resources like crazy, but I don’t think it’s terribly hard to come by as long as you can get to a store.

what’s the worst thing that you had to cancel? I was a bit bummed about the Colin Firth concert being cancelled in the early part of this month.  That was going to be a nice night out.

To be very honest, my biggest regret is that we took on the fosters when we did.  No one in this area is in a position to adopt two cats, and to be honest... they’re not very good fosters.  Blue is friendly and outgoing, she likes to play, but she’s not cuddly -- she’s not really interested in being petted or held and doesn’t seem to want to sit in your lap for very long.

Baby likes Marc well enough, but she continues to run from me whenever she sees me, and forget about coming up for a cuddle.  She’s just... fucking miserable.

We’re also giving up on trying to integrate them with our cats.  They don’t have very good “cat manners” (they have no sense of personal space and will get right up in the other cats’ business), and the two of them have twice now gone after Rosie in what was a semi-playful, semi-aggressive manner that she definitely did not appreciate, so that’s the end of that.

It would be different if they got along with our cats, or if they were cuddly, but Blue is the only one that I’d consider truly adoptable.  Baby is fucking miserable and I have no idea how the fuck we’re going to adopt them out.  I’m desperately trying to find someone that can take them, but I don’t have a good feeling, and I honestly don’t know what we’re going to do long term.  It was a mistake taking them in, and I regret it, but I’ve got to find a way to deal with it now.

what’s the best thing you’ve had to cancel? This is going to sound terrible but... we were planning on going to a “Return of the Living Dead” convention in June.  Had tickets, a hotel, everything.  Technically it’s still on -- they haven’t cancelled the event yet -- but we’ve agreed we won’t be going, even if it’s still on in June.  Too much of a risk.

In theory this was going to be super fun, and I actually was excited about it, but... honestly, going to so many comic cons has really burned me out on other people who attend conventions, and the idea of being around mobs of people acting like smelly, poorly socialized assholes about something that I genuinely love was kind of stressing me out.

I didn’t want to see something that I love gatekept, I didn’t want to be “fake geek girled” about it by somebody with B.O. and no social awareness.  It was starting to stress me out. So I’m sad that we won’t be going, but glad that I don’t have to stress out about it.

who do you miss the most? My boss, I guess?  He was fun to hang out with and bullshit with, and we can’t really do that the same way that we did when we were in the office together.  I’m pretty lukewarm on everybody else I used to see in person day to day.

do you have any new hobbies? Ugh, please, I already have so many fucking hobbies.   Uh. Well, I did buy the sewing machine, so... :/  Let me get it set up and actually sew something before I start calling it a hobby, though.

what are you watching the most? Marc and I have been binge-watching Ozark and a show called Futureman, which are both compelling and extremely difficult to watch in different ways.  I’m still waiting on new content from the lady that lives in Japan, haha... this is probably a good opportunity to go back and watch whatever videos I haven’t seen yet.

are you still going to work? Remotely, yes, every day.  I’m actually using the time to try and get myself better organized and establish good work habits and routines that I can carry through to when things start to normalize.

what are you out of? Mmm... nothing, I don’t think?  I’m getting low-ish on yeast, since I’ve been baking so much, but I’m not even really low on that yet.  I’ve tried to do a “dried cranberry yeast starter” but I’m not convinced it took... I need to drain off the yeast liquid and add some flour tonight, see if it grows or if it’s a dud.  

have you made any changes to your hair during quarantine? I trimmed my bangs about a week ago, I think, because they were getting frustratingly long.  Fortunately I didn’t butcher them too badly.  Today I helped Marc give himself a trim, and he’s looking quite dapper again, so I guess we’re not in too bad of a shape.  I chopped my hair to the shoulders back before the quarantine so it would have to get much, much longer before it became problematic for me, and even then.  I’m still debating if I even want to color my grays at all, so I’m not concerned about “touching up roots” or anything like that.  I am what I am. 

Not tagging anyone because A) I’m terrible at tagging, B) Most of the people I follow that are “real people” and not just content-posting accounts are mutuals of one another.  If you want to participate, please consider yourself tagged.

[worldcakecakecake]

The Red Mask

In 18th century Valencia, Spain, thrives the legend of the Red Mask, a character with stories of bravery and heroism that have enchanted Lovino Valenti since he was a young child. On a new business deal, his family moves from Naples and Lovino finds himself wishing for adventure and action away from his duties in this new Spanish city. He is given that chance when he joins a group of masked heroes that fall under the command of the famed Red Mask. He grows a close and fiery relationship with the masked man of his tales and dreams, and without knowing his identity, he lets himself be swayed by his seduction, trust and daringness, to passions surely forbidden when he doesn’t even know his actual name or who he really is.

                                                              Prolouge III 

The morning in the convent went on as per usual, albeit some watched any new stirring from the hall as most were excited to meet the newest member. No other showed it more than one of the Jansen siblings, Laura Jansen.

 The small blond girl had kept by the hall, ready to be the first to help and befriend the weak boy she had seen the night before. Her other two brothers, Tim and Louis, stayed by the table focused on their finished breakfast, eyes conversing on how to get their sister on other things. They didn’t know what this new boy was affected with and how weakened he was. He could pretty much decide to be in the room for days and it was probably best for her not to get her hopes too high. They stood, ready to suggest her in a joining of their chores, when suddenly they heard the hinge and opening of that furthest door, Laura instantly perking.

 It took a long while for the boy to move enough as to be shown, his entire being down casted, like a darkened ghost that was failing at a simple haunting.

 Laura was impatient and would not have this. She rushed and pulled him the rest of the way, in an instant bringing him to the table, not a minute passing and already placing a plate with a loaf of bread and a glass of milk. Antonio remained frozen, startled at this very quick array that was not in his mood and his mind wasn’t quickly thinking to.

 “Come on, eat. You have to start on chores and you’re lucky that my brothers and I are willing to wait for you.” She really tried to be harsh, bossy, but instead she blushed and gave quite an adorable pout that Antonio couldn’t find it possible to remain expressionless at.

 A laugh erupted, loud and ringing, unsuspected, less by this drowsy boy they had seen earlier and the night before. He banged the table, in wild hysterics letting his laughter continue to ring across the hall.

 The two brothers decided that he had to be crazy and the poor girl blushed deeper in embarrassment.

 “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He whipped the small tears that had formed, sitting straight and taking the breaths that finally made him calm down, instead presenting quite a beautiful and natural smile. This made the room fall more at ease, Laura finding it quite beautiful and fitting to the boy.

 “I think it would be great to join you. Just don’t threaten me like…that, and let me have my breakfast first,” he joked, in an easy friendly way that the girl found herself smiling back at.

 Comfortable, she took a sitting beside him, not minding on the silence as he ate on, the other brothers watchful from their side of the dining room.

 “How are you feeling?” Laura asked once Antonio took the last sip of his milk.

 “Uh…okay, I guess. I can do something though,” he still confided, standing, strong and ready for whatever that could have his use and help.

 “That’s great! I’m sure you’ll have some fun with us! And we can help you and become good friends! We’re sure you’ll like it here!” Laura happily exclaimed, ready to lead him to meet her brothers.

 “That’s exceptionally kind of you, Laura. But Antonio just arrived, and he still needs his rest.” Patricio entered the dining room, emitting a fatherly aura as ever, one that Laura knew she couldn’t speak against. “How about you and your brothers go on and do the drying. I’ll see if I can get Antonio to join you later.”

 The girl nodded and joined her brothers’ side. With her adding they headed off to start with the given job.

 “They seem really nice,” Antonio noted.

 It made Patricio smile, assuring him that perhaps Antonio can find easy fitting with their people.

 “They are. You will have your chance to befriend them later, but for now, I must show you your new home.”

 Antonio saw the entirety of the living quarters. Other rooms where they could read, write or play in, bathrooms, kitchen, terrace, garden, stable and even the holy church. It was tall, magnificent, quite a richness compared to the humbler areas of where Antonio would be staying, but it was admirable, and it had his steps slowing as he took in more of it.

 The touring had been done by the early afternoon, with time to spare and Antonio quite eager to join the Jansen brothers in the garden, where they worked on hanging wet fabrics to dry, conversing, laughing and joking as children should. Patricio smiled from his sitting, taking parts of his reading, Laura beside her as company, surprisingly not taking part in the activities with her brothers and the newest member.

 “Antonio?” She asked to the priest.

 “Yes, that is his name.”

 “Why is he here? Did he lose his parents too?”

 “He lost his father long ago, his mother recently.”

 “How did he know about you and the church?”

 “I raised his parents under my supervision here as I do you and the rest long ago. Both excellent people and I used to think bright futures awaited them. I was delighted to find out they had been courting and I had already agreed to wed them. But…” solemn he turned, hurt already at his next words while Laura stared on in both worry and curiosity. “Diego…his father, was in a terrible fight, not by his doing, he was just in the wrong place when it happened…he lost his life there and Joaquina…grew vengeful, maddened, more so when she found out she was with child and her beloved never got the chance to know. The fight was between two families, one of them the Montaje, the patriarch man who had killed Diego. Pregnant, Joaquina came for compensation and so the leader Montaje set up a match where they put at stake horrible prizes.” Patricio silenced at the harsh remembrance, but Laura gazed on still expecting his continuing. “If Joaquina won, she will receive a large sum of money to be able to live and take care of her son, if Montaje won…she will relinquish her sword and find servitude in his own mansion.” He sighed, not liking the turn it then took. “To this day I believe something went wrong in the match. Joaquina was a good swordswoman, enough to participate in the highest tournaments of the kingdom and beat all. Yet…this match did not prove it so and so she left to the other side of the kingdom to work for him. It was all disastrous, horrible, she was never meant to serve such a devil man.” His breaths were harsh, being chocked by only thoughts of what he wondered she must have gone through. “For years she took his abuse, worst, she had her son go through it as well and it was only recently that they managed an escape. Sadly, she was caught and well…only Antonio reached our church.” They both raised their gazes to him, who was happily chatting with the other two Jansen brothers, all that misery and turmoil disappeared.

 “Will he stay with us then?”

 “Until he decides so, yes, we will take him,” Patricio adopted him with those words.

 Laura smiled and was giddy in her seat. “It’s like having another brother!” She excited.

 “It will be, so I’m counting on you and your brothers to make this the best stay possible. Help him, talk to him, play with him, invite him to whatever any of you concoct. It will help him better and I will really appreciate it.”

 Laura smiled back, determined to fulfill that promise.

  In the passing weeks, that belonging that all had spoken and wanted for Antonio seemed a brighter possibility. Antonio settled well into the routine, found the jobs that all depended on him and Patricio adored that he was a devoted catholic as the rest of the kids there. He joined in the altar serving, every mass there with Patricio and the rest of the priests. It was a process he enjoyed being a part of and didn’t serve any complains as some of the other children did. The only dilemma was that he hadn’t had a proper outing into the city. Laura, who had quickly become a dear friend to Antonio, provided him that, waking him up in a rather harsh force in the morning and then getting him into proper wear for the streets. Of course, they were provided by Patricio.

 The markets in the city were full, which assured a populace that met them as soon as they headed, baskets in their holds to get the things Tim had specified well that morning. Both of them stayed together in their stroll through the streets, Laura being extra attentive that Antonio wouldn’t be easily distracted and loose himself in another direction. No matter, it would happen, which meant random runs getting him back or trying to get him away from buying many tomatoes from different stands.

 “Antonio, we go all we needed, we don’t nee more,” Laura told him after yet another pulling from another stand.

 “But they were so pretty! I’m sure Patricio and the nuns wouldn’t mind more,” Antonio convinced.

 “Best we just keep with what they said. After all we-” Laura was suddenly pushed to the side, a sure hit to the near hardened wall if Antonio hadn’t caught her on time. The men to blame had rushed off, escaping well between the crowds like they were flying, almost unnoticed to others. Later, a woman tried to rush at their pace, but she stood near Antonio and Laura exhausted, hand extending as if hoping it could do the reaching she wanted.

 “No…” she devasted, knowing that they were lost. She trembled, tears coating her eyes and showing her in such a weakness that Antonio couldn’t leave her alone in. He came forward, offering a straightening hand and comforting eyes.

 “Señora, what is wrong?”

 “They…they took my bag! I-I had papers there concerning my move to France. Without them, I won’t be able to go, I’ll lose my position, loose everything.” She started a heavy breathing. “I need those, I need those. Without them I might as well be left on the streets. I have a son, I can’t let him live like this, I can’t!” The tears now fell, depending on the hold she had of Antonio.

 He had no way of responding, all the words were sparking repeated horror images that he tried hard to erase from his mind the last few days. His mother, his own escape from the Montaje mansion, her death, nothing to be done but fight.

 “Oh, miss, I’m so sorry for this. I really wish there was something that could be done.”

 In Antonio’s blankness, Laura decided to take the woman and offer her own comfort how she could. Whatever cries and words were only murmurs, Antonio now switching his attention to the direction the felons ran off. The people that walked on were uncaring, greyed and silent as Antonio surely stood in the center for them. He thought…and even saw how he could run between, what moves he could easily use to ground and defeat them. It wouldn’t be hard, he could go right now, nothing to stop them but perhaps Laura’s confusions and shouts. Before his thoughts continued any other hindrances, he took that sprint, forward trying to find their trace, between carts, rushing people and carriages. Finding recent commotion, he took deep secretive alleyways. A red flag reminded him of his own familiar red, always hidden well in his pockets. He took it out, the holes that were meant to showcase his mother’s green, reminding him, telling him of a trade that had to pass, that he could take. As he gripped it stronger in his hold, he was decided to move on that fire, for his father, and now his mother. Taking that responsibility, accepting everything that would come from there on, he tied it around him, as sure and ready as he would help his mother. It fitted him like it was meant, like it was always for him and with it he felt the strength that pushed him faster down the alley. As he was draped by a sudden red cloak, surely a sheet from a resident in the area, he took it with him, the cape that will hide his body well, ripping then a part to cover his head as he couldn’t find the proper hat.

 He was dressed well in the imaginary hero of his mother and her stories, publicly shown as he exited the alley, jumping high in light that none could miss, none couldn’t hold their startling, pointing and gasps. Antonio flew by them uncaring, not when he could catch a glimpse of the running thieves, almost disappearing in the distance. He used the top of carts, stands, even that of low buildings to make his way between this extensive crowd that filled this particular square. Thanks to the movements under him, that he used to propel himself, he managed a quick catching, until he could see the cloaks on the others, even the bag they stole, clear. He smirked at how easy it would be after this…even without a sword tucked in a scabbard at his hip.

 A particular jump from a hanged cloth, a made aim, and he landed with a harsh kick on the sole who held the bag. He hurled in pain, one that the others tuned to in shocking halt, confused that…something, dressed in red, just stopped their friend in an easy grasp. Antonio kept using him as his standing, maintaining a force that let him take the bag and place it on himself safely.

 He might have it back, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to leave it easy for them after what they did. While they were distracted in impression, Antonio drove himself forward and started with his known tactics of kicks and punches, bringing them to an unconscious level that they couldn’t respond to any longer. A space was left for him and his prey while others ran or cowered to the sides. It granted Antonio the sight to see three small logs of wood thrown from some pass mess. It was exactly what he needed. He brought the three to a stoned wall, using the wood to hold them there from there cloaks. The guards will deal with them, but Antonio considered his job done. He ran away swiftly, disappearing to all their eyes, some even daring to follow him and question, but none was fast or attentive enough.

 Antonio moved between the shadows and whatever hiding in between with less crowds and people. He managed a return to the area where he started his run, Laura still comforting the victim. Antonio wondered if she had noticed he left. From his hidden heights, he dropped the bag before her, then rushing off elsewhere, plotting some new way to get to Laura without giving suspicion. The woman shrilled and hugged the bag, bringing then Laura close as if she were her angel that brought it forward. She shouted all kinds of thanks to the heavens and even the girl who had done nothing else but remain with her. Laura stood in deep question, not understanding the events that passed so quickly, hoping for Antonio to give some sort of explanation. That’s when she noticed he was gone, in no vicinity, leaving her alone to deal with an aftermath he created.

 After the woman had relaxed enough, Laura had let her go her way, now with a new search for the new boy. She was almost close to the church when he heard his shouts, running to meet her down this street she walked on. He seemed exhausted, strained, sweating away a big load from what surely must have been a harshened job.

 “Where were you?” She scolded, angered and Antonio feared she was to inflict punishment that instant.

 “I…I…tried to find the thieves that took her bag. I lost them…and then I got lost myself. What happened?” He feigned.

 “Well, after you darted out like that, someone actually got it back and brought it.”

 “Really?” Antonio alighted grandiosely. “Who did?”

 “I…don’t know…whoever did just dropped it between us and left. I couldn’t catch them. She was really happy though…she wouldn’t let go of me and I’m wondering if she thought I did it.”

 Antonio chuckled, dusting away whatever was on him, striding beside her with their baskets of produces, aiming their way back to the church like nothing had occurred.

 Laura rolled her eyes and didn’t pay much mind…but she did notice the red cloth hanging from Antonio’s back pocket.

  From that day on, news and stories scurried around the city about a hero dressed all in red, guarding, protecting and acting against all selfish and heinous crimes that disruptive peace. It was the kind of tales that kept all the children in the church awake, wanting to hear anything new that occurred. Laura loved them just as much as her brothers and the rest, but her suspicions, her worries, didn’t let her showcase her true excitement.

 Antonio had lately taken to disappearing. Absent from most work, from their fun, arriving at late nights with bruises, blood, strained, wanting immediate food and water to recover the energy he had used. At first, she had wondered if he had been participating in some sort of sports event in the city, but even so he would have told them and he would have had to ask permission from Patricio and in turn the friar would have told them. But with every news, every reading and hearing, Laura would assimilate with the state Antonio would arrive each time.

 It was too obvious, it was too coincidental, and Laura couldn’t continue to be ignorant about this.

 She had decided to remain awake, in yet another late night that Antonio had yet to show his presence. She had taken a sitting in Antonio’s room, something that was well against the rules Patricio had placed for them, but Antonio was well disobeying them as well. She heard his familiar steps, still so clear to her even though she knew he was trying to pass by as quietly as possible. She could tell his relief once he entered, shone by the candle he held, but once he turned, shinning that very light on her as well, he jumped and almost dropped it. Luckily, he didn’t shout, petrified in his spot, afraid of any little extra movement that would get her to befall on him harsh words.

 “Are you the Red Mask?” Laura instantly asked, no hesitation, no fear, no other thought to interrupt.

 “The what?” Antonio’s question was true.

 “La Mascara Roja. The hero that everyone is talking about! The guy who’s out doing good, saving lives, dressed completely in red. There’s been stories about him across Spain, particularly in places you went through when you came here with your mom,” she eyed in accusation, Antonio starting to understand, his nervousness shown with the sweat that began to grow and how he adverted his eyes.

 “They’re especially common here in Valencia, during times you are not here in the convent. When you come back, you’re wounded in ways that are exactly like the Red Mask has in his recent stories. Also…I’ve seen you with that,” she pointed to the red cloth, now obvious on his hip. In his shock with her presence he had forgotten to hide it.

 “So, I repeat myself, and I want your honesty. Are you the Red Mask?” The flare she had in her eyes were ready to attack for if he omitted lies.

 He stood on in silence, his eyes continuing their aversion, as if looking for some kind of escape.

 “Come on, just tell me! I’m your friend and you can trust me with this!” She eased close, but yet with a still present beg.

 “Okay, okay, if I’m going to tell you this, just please, keep your voice down and you have to promise to not let a single word out!”

 Antonio pushed them to a further corner of the room, trying to make their words even more hidden. Laura excited, giving little jumps, such an assuring nod that made Antonio smile, knowing well that he could indeed trust her.

 “Yes, fine, I am the Red Mask,” he gave up, huffing, hands on his hips, a tinge of embarrassment and blush over letting someone find out so easily and to having been forced to expose it all.

 “I knew it!” She shouted, with a jump that almost hurled her all unto him.

 Antonio quickly shushed her and pushed her back to the wall. “Not a single word can escape about this! Do you have any idea in how much trouble I’ll get with Patricio?” He pointed and feared. “And not just Patricio, but perhaps every single thief in Spain who wants revenge! Protecting my identity is for my own protection as well as the people that surround me. I lose that, I put the entire convent in an unbelievable risk,” Antonio wanted Laura to know well before anything.

 Antonio could tell Laura understood well with her shocked and feared eyes, surely imagining the horror of that probability. “Oh…I understand then…don’t worry. I won’t tell absolutely anybody, I promise,” she acclaimed.

 “Good…then, you should be heading to sleep and-”

 “Wait, what, right now? I just found out something incredible and you just want me to head out and go to sleep just like that.”

 “Well, yeah, I was kind of hoping you would.” Antonio had even gone to the door ready to open it for her.

 “No! I mean! You have to tell me everything! How did you start? Why are you doing this? Do you get something if you do? Are you planning to continue? What if Patricio finds out? What if the wrong person does? You have to tell me everything!” Laura quickened so much that Antonio was easily overwhelmed, startling and not being sure of which question to answer and which to hope she could forget as he answered the other.

 He sighed and prepared himself to talk. “Well…my mom, for as long as I can remember, used to tell me these stories about a red masked hero that went out saving the day in the most amazing ways possible. I…noticed well that she made the stories surrounding how awfully our master would treat us, the servants and anyone around him, the hero in her mind saving this person through her tale. Part of me always wanted to take this persona to save these people that I saw everyday be treated so harshly. I…never really thought it possible until well…I saw my own mom do it.” He took a sitting on the bed, a true wonder in his eyes that Laura found beautiful and more fitting to him. “She started it as a disguise to win a big price back where I’m from without letting our old master see us, using that money to runaway here. Truthfully, she was the one that did the majority of the saving when we were crossing Spain. After she died, I though that no such hope would be left again…until I realized I could do it myself.” Laura watched as he took out the red mask, confidently showing it clear, for her to wonder and awe, tempted even to touch it. “This cloth…used to belong to my father, part of a cape he always wore for sword practicing with my mom. She kept is a reminder of him and for a way to have my own connection to him.” He always saddened at the fact that he never got to meet the inspiration that even brought these stories to start. “I really cannot stand to watch people be mistreated, captive and used. If I can do something to change it, if I know I can do it, that I have the skill, then I will risk whatever possible until I know people are freed and happy.” He tightened his grip on the mask, in a noble decree that made Laura even more wondered. It was indeed like a romantic tale of a gallant hero.

 “Antonio, I absolutely admire what you’re doing. It’s much more than what the aristocrats that came to mass every Sunday do, I’ll admit even the very guards of the city. I’ll worry, I’ll stay up late waiting for you. It’s not exactly something easy to deal with and I am terrified that it can end worse than what you deserve,” she sighed, worried at those images, taking Antonio’s hands in comfort. “I wish you luck in your continuous missions…but I wish to help, so…I ask from you a condition.”

 Antonio huffed and was ready to anger, but Laura was quick to interrupt and say it.

 “Let me join you!”

 Antonio was stunned, having to shake his face to really let the words repeat well, making sure he really heard them. “You…want to join?”

 “Yes! Take me the next calling! I’ll…fight or-or just an extra hand if you need to beat someone and I have to take someone elsewhere!”

 “Laura, I cannot simply risk your life like that!”

 “Teach me to fight if you have to! We’ll practice! Meet up somewhere every day! I’ll wear my own mask and disguise if I have to!” She was determined, a perseveration that Antonio knew there was nothing he could do to stop.

 “Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!” She continued to beg, tightening the hold of their hand.

 “Laura, Laura, Laura, quiet!” He still worried.

 “If you don’t let me, I’ll just get louder!” She really wanted to do this.

 Antonio gave up, giving a harsh sigh. “Fine, fine, we’ll do something!”

 “Yes!” Laura excited in whisper, embracing Antonio, glowing at the sure adventure that was to come.

< prolouge II                                                                                                                     prolouge IV >

[catalystic-dragons]

Just a quick info dump about my wof fantribe ;v;

Name:

Warrenwings

Base:

Name Meaning:

A network of underground tunnels and burrows - a reference to how Warrenwings live:

Naming Convention:

Warrenwings name their hatchlings after geological features, ground-nesting wildlife, precious stones and insects. Sometimes, they are also named after fungai or plants that grow in little light (thus cultivated underground).

Home/Habitat:

Vast burrows underneath the dry savannah on which they live. The burrows are ever expanded by teams of builders - when they aren’t expanding, they reinforce the older tunnels and burrows. Cave ins are only really common on mining levels, where the poorest dragons mine precious metals and gemstones.

Burrows are usually quite spacious, regardless of ranking, as Warrenwings are usually half the size of Mudwing at full growth, though Royals can have over double the space of a commoner.

Average Lifespan:

A well fed warrenwing may live for up to 500 years! But it is exceptionally rare for them to exceed more then 250 in their current environment. As they get older, warrenwings become more sluggish and reptile-like, preferring to bask and wait for food to come by than engage in energetic bouts of hunting.

Government:

King and Queen rule as a unit with a council of elders. While the King and Queen have the majority of the power, the council of elders vastly outnumber them, and are made up of the oldest dragons in the tribe. With their wisdom of the tribe’s history, and the experience to provide guidance, they help the king and queen make vital decisions, and feed back from their communities directly.

Any royal can challenge their parents for the throne once they complete a sacred trial, known as “Night of the Long Hunt”. During this trial, the royalling must hunt down a male lion and bring his carcass to the tribe for a great feast. Some never do this, and thus abdicate from the throne - but Ravine, the current Queen, bought back a fully grown male to prove her worth as a strong leader, a strong fighter and a good tactician. She picked her mate, Beatle, before she became queen, and thus he inherited the title King after she had proven herself worthy and her mother, Meerkat, had stepped down.

Abilities:

Warrenwings are exceptionally hardy dragons; what they lack in size and speed, they make up for in strength and stamina. Their tough hide is built to protect them from potential predators, like large wild cats and hyenas. Their wings are too small to let them fly for long distances, or at all in some cases, but they make fantastic shields against predators or other warrenwings.

Aside from their horned snouts, shovel claws, thick leathery wings and thick tails, often equipped with clubs, spades or spikes, they have a cement-like mixture they can fire from glands at the back of their throat - used both for offence and the building of their vast burrows.

Diet:

A warrenwing is not a picky eater. While they are classed as omnivorous, they must get protein in their diet; through grubs they find in the tunnels, or kills bought in by the hunters. Fruits are enjoyed as a special treat during the rainy season, and mushrooms and root veggies make up the rest of their food. It should be noted that they cannot digest leafy plant matter well, but will eat it if there is nothing else. They do need to consume porous rocks regularly to produce their cement like spit.

Colours:

Common Primaries - Earthy browns, stone greys, mossy greens, charcoal black, sandy yellows.

Uncommon Primaries - Snowflake obsidian, dark greens, fleshy colours (scaleless)

Rare Primaries - Leucistic, piebald, melanistic

Legendary Primaries - albino, opalite, opal, any deep/bright colours

All Accents- rare mineral/gemstone-like colours; blue/green/red/turquoise/purple/yellow/black/etc

ROYAL ONLY - opal

Traits:

Common - underbite, short nose horns, short horns, chin spines, short ears, hard scales on legs, leg spines, short spines down back, short spines on tail, spade on tail, small wings, wing claws, short tail, shovel claws, smooth underbelly

Uncommon - rabbit ears, ram horns, long horns, branching horns, rabbit back legs, extra row of leg scales, medium wings, gecko tail, club tail, medium leg spines, plate underbelly, scaleless

Rare - blindness, starnose, drillnose, droopy ears, long nose horns, double horns, spine mane, tusks, large wings, clawless wings, paws, stegosaurus plates, thagomiser tail

Legendary - snake mouth, tremorsense, antlers, short fur mane, wingless, long tail, arrowhead tail, crocodile tail (dragging)

ROYAL ONLY - secondary “gemscale”, gem markings by the eyes, triple layer arm scales

Continent:

Warrenwings live on an island that is largely vast scrubland, desert and savannah along the equator, where it is very hot and often very dry. Their home is known as Platynus (Genus of beetle), and is rather unforgiving in its nature. From space, it looks like a dragon coiling back on itself, trying to bite it’s own tail. It should be noted it is significantly smaller than the other continents. While there are mountain ranges around the fringes of the Platynus, and there are several active volcanoes dotted about, it is mostly arid, with droughts running riot when the sweltering dry season extends for longer than a month. Because of this, Warrenwings view water as sacred, and often try to cultivate pools of water in their underground home.

The wildlife present on Platynus are hardy species. There are several kinds of dromedary, and some wild species of horse. The most common large predator is the hyena, or lion, which will prey on small and weak warrenwings if given the chance. Meerkats, wild hamsters and moles are commonplace in the scrub, and many species of vulture and hawk make their home in the trees. At first glance, Platynus may seem like a lifeless plain, but it is teeming with life. Elusive elephants and rhinoceros can be found in the quiet corners of the continent, away from the bustle of the wildebeest herds and the jaws of giant crocodiles.

Religious Beliefs:

Warrenwings find harmony in the natural order of their world; the circle of life is something many hold dear as a solid belief. Elephants are seen as old Gods, wandering through the brush. Following them brings the promise of water, so naturally Warrenwings see them as sacred animals to be revered and respected. To kill and Elephant, or eat its carcass, is a great taboo. The hyenas of the plains are seen as harbingers of death; seeing a pack when you are alone is a sign of terrible things to come. Vultures are seen as guides - whether that is a guide to the afterlife, or a guide to your next meal, depends on the vulture.

As the concept of Kings and Queens is relatively new to Warrenwings as a united tribe, some side warrens have unofficial leaders, who are often revered as wise ones. These are often old female Warrenwings, who pass the knowledge of tunnel carving, medicines and water cultivation down the generations. While unofficial, offending these old matriarchs is frowned upon.

Lore:

Warrenwings were only made aware of the outside world when a mudwing and icewing shipwrecked on their shores. It was an experience which shocked the tribe, who mainly lived apart and competed for resources in rival burrows, into connecting as one people. Knowing there were many tribes out there, ones that displayed strange and terrible powers, led them to form their current society. While the current Queen is aware there remains a lot to be desired, she is working hard to create a warren where her people can live together in harmony. She has been Queen for 10 years, and while her people like her, there is a stirring in the poorest parts of the warren. While not quite ready for a true rebellion, discontent grows in the mines.

Laws:

Warrenwings live by a simple rule. One must help the warren stay alive. Killing another warrenwing is only ever an option in extreme cases, and will rarely stand up against the Queen and her Council, unless you have evidence to support your side. Though the King and Queen are seen as the ultimate heads of the law, they can be challenged by the Council and dismissed if the Council deem it necessary for the good of the Warren.

Simply, the laws are thus:

Do not kill your fellow dragons

Do not force your love upon those that do not wish it

Be kind to those in need; share with them your water, your shelter, your food

Do not go out alone above ground, unless you have been told to do so

Never defile the water; do not steal it, do not soil in it

Never kill an Elephant, for they are sacred

The King and Queen decide justice, but are not above justice itself

Those who defy the law are tried by the Queen and Council, and testify before randomly selected warrenwings who will, along with the council, decide their fate. The worst case scenario for any warrenwing is exile, and that is not taken lightly by anyone involved.

Alliances:

None thus far. They are a private tribe and are well removed from the political spheres of the canon dragon tribes.

Rankings:

Rankings are decided by jobs, which decide where in the warren you live. Those who show talent during their training years are recommended to the Masters of those fields, who then decide whether or not to take them on as apprentices.

Lower class Jobs (poorest): Miner, cleaner, seer, sentry, gem refiner, gem cutter, guard, tunnel digger, mushroom farmer

Middle class jobs (average): Tunnel Architect, tunnel overseer, wiseone (only for older tribe members), hunter (above ground), gatherer (below ground), cook, weatherwatcher (above ground), lawkeeper, soldier, weaver

Upper class jobs (rich): Jeweller, dowser (one who finds water), royal guard, royal cook, personal seer (to royals), water cleanser, gem polisher, royal quarters cleaner

Royal Jobs (royal family only): Queen’s Guard, King’s Guard, water overseer, lead hunter, lead gatherer, lead lawkeeper

Animus Laws:

Animus dragons exist, but are often exceptionally rare. They are feared, but beloved by their kingdom, and reside with the King and Queen to be raised alongside their own hatchlings. They are only ever asked to use their power in extreme cases, like severe droughts.

[tsarethan]

More Ghost stuff

random questions i answered sorry this is terrible

 What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about?

Pup/dog from Ramsey, Ghost in team rainbow and Wolf in the SAS

 What is the colour of your OC’s eyes/hair/skin?

Blue/green eyes, blonde hair and white skin

 How tall is your OC?

5’4

What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

He’s still pretty pale from the drugs and the track marks on his arms again from the drugs. He has a few tattoos as well mostly of animals

What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night?

Well he’s in the army so his normal combat gear or a pair of joggers and an oversized t-shirt/hoodie. Ethan’s not one for formal wear he’s very casual, owns multiple pairs of black skinny jeans that are a little big on him and plaid shirts with a t-shirt underneath are his go too

What is one word you would use to describe your OC’s appearances?

Ordinary (assuming this means the way he dresses)

Does your OC have any markings, such as a birthmark or a scar?

He has a couple of scars from bullet wounds and knife scars but the most notable is the ‘Ramsey’s attack dog’ that is carved into the left side of his torso. He has a tattoo on his left forearm of a big black wolf holding a union jack flag and a spitfire plane tattooed on his other forearm, he has a bunch of other tattoos just dotted round but those two are the most notable ones

How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like?

He’s from Liverpool but isn’t conventional, he doesn’t have the typical scouse accent, but other brits can still tell where he’s from  

What does your OC’s bedroom look like?  His/her living area?

On base his room isn’t overly decorated, a few posters and books. In Thatcher’s house is like a normal bedroom, posters, figures, Xbox, pained a dark blue. It’s a loft room so the ceiling is slanted with the roof but there’s a window on the slanted roof which he enjoys because he can smoke in his room and it leaves nice colours in his room at sunset. He’s got a double bed and nice tv to go along with the Xbox and he’s eternally grateful to his dad.

What does your OC keep in a special drawer?

Weed box and knife collection

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her mother?

His mum was murdered brutally on Ramsey’s orders, they weren’t that close

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her father?

His birth dad is the same as his mum, was later adopted by Thatcher, they have a great relationship even if they bicker a lot

How many siblings does your OC and what is his/her relationship with them?

Birth family he had one sister named Laura they have never had a good relationship and it was only made worse with their parents’ deaths

Who is the mother and/or father figure in your OC’s life?

Thatcher

What was your OC’s childhood like?

Until he was 11 Ethan had a pretty normal childhood that’s when everything went to shit with (unknowingly) joining the syndicate

What is your OC’s strongest childhood memory? Why and how as that impacted him/her?

With it saying childhood I’m gonna say from before aged 11, Ethan’s not sure if it’s a memory or something his brain came up with after being told the story but when he was 4 he nearly fell down the gap between the train and the platform edge. He was dangling in that gap for a good few seconds as his mum ha a hold of his hand, but she was also holding a bunch of bags and couldn’t pull him completely out. A stranger grabbed Ethan and lifted him out, ever since then he’s been terrified of the gap between trains and platforms and makes sure people stay far away from the yellow line at the station. If people don’t it can send him into a full blown panic attack

What is your OC’s imagination like?

Hes a bit of a daydreamer but most of what he thinks is his revenge against Ramsey. With his drawings they are mostly vent art or drawings of the other ops

How many times did your OC move as a child?  Which area was his/her favourite?

Never moved, his family lived in a poor as shit area and couldn’t afford to move

What does your OC think of children- either in general or about having them?

He loves the kids in his adoptive family but has never thought about having kids of his own, when he thinks of family he thinks of the people already around him rather than settling own and having his own

What kind of mother/father would your OC be?

Idk he’s still really young and going through a lot with the trauma he’s experienced so I don’t think he would put too much thought on being a parent

Who is your OC’s closest relatives?

His dad (Thatcher), Sledge, Mute, Smoke (like brothers to him)

Who is/are your OC’s closest friend(s)?

Bandit, Mute, Rook, Twitch, Glaz, kapkan

Who are the people your OC surrounds him/herself with?

People who can have a laugh but he’s generally on okay terms with the whole team besides lion

Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates?

Ignorant hateful people, those who have a problem with his family, people who look down on him for his age, sexuality and background. Greed driven people and people who think they’re better than everyone else thinking they are gods gift to the world

If your OC has a soulmate, who is it?

Bandit

Why does your OC and his/her soulmate work so well together?

They have suffered in similar ways and have seen similar horrors. At the start of rainbow they were both outcasted by other CTU’s (not the SAS and GSG9) they learned to survive through this together and grew into an infamous team in rainbow. They both learn to heal together

What are some things your OC admires about his/her soulmate?

His ability to control his anger, Ethan knows what effect the things they have both experienced can damage the control of anger and violence. Bandits restraint is a great thing and how he can turn it into harmless pranks

How did your OC and his/her soulmate meet?

The first gathering of team rainbow in Hereford base

What is your OC’s level of education?

He got up to A-Levels

Did your OC participate in extracurricular activities, and if so, what were they?

Nope

What is your OC’s opinion of school?  What kind of student was s/he?

He was very fond of school it gave him a chance to be normal for a few hours of the day even if he was getting into fights quite a bit

What subjects did your OC excel at?

History, science, art and mechanics

What subjects interested your OC?

History and art

What is your OC’s dream job and/or current profession?

Well he’s serving a military service but if he had a choice he would have liked to work in a museum

How is your OC working towards his/her dream job and/or achieved his/her current profession?

He’s not working towards it as he can’t, and he got this job through a plea deal

What are your OC’s thoughts/opinions of his/her current profession?

He’s good at what he does and has found a family so he’s happy where he is, it’s certainly better than a prison cell

What is your OC’s biggest dream?

Keep the team alive longer than himself

How does your OC react to and handle stress?

Sleeps, drinks, smokes, fights either other ops or a punching bag

How does your OC handle anger?

Anger is what he handles the worst he can have severe violent breakdowns but he’s learned how to control it for the most part but that will only last so long

How does your OC handle grief?

He shuts down, you won’t get a response from him at all, it then turns destructive and after that he grieves normally, cries and tries his very best to move on from it. The most grief he’s experienced so far was from the murder of his parents and the only thing that could make him go through that extreme sort of grief again would be the death of one of the SAS or Bandit

What is your OC’s greatest fear?

Losing the people, he loves and falling back into Ramsey’s grasp again

What makes your OC happy?

His family and friends, having a day off at the same time as bandit so they can chill together

What kind of sense of humour does your OC have?

Very dark humour along with the typical millennial humour

What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

Being unable to help those on his team, he would lay down his life for them and he was taught any failure to save those ‘more important’ than himself was met with severe punishment (torture)

What are some things that annoy your OC?

People not understanding when he says he wants to be alone for a bit. People making fun of him for being 24 and being as close as he is with his dad

If your OC has them, what are some regrets s/he has?

Everything he’s done between the ages of 11-18

How easily does your OC forgive?

Petty bitch very rarely forgives

If your OC experienced trauma, what was it?

Torture, dehumanisation, body mutilation, he was in a brutal crime syndicate he’s seen so much at a very young age

What secrets does your OC have?

While he feels guilty for everything he done he doesn’t really feel bad for the victims, they were rivals and other criminals and he thinks what he done was mostly justified in his very black and white view on innocent and guilty. Also, he knows a lot more than what he told the police when he negotiated

What are some of your OC’s morals?

If you’re innocent you’re innocent, if you’re guilty it doesn’t matter what happens to you as long as you’re dealt with. However, his view of his is guilty is towards the real scum bags not just like people caught with drugs or imprisoned for petty stuff

What are some of your OC’s motivations?

His ingrained nature to protect an seeing how easy it is for situations to go south, very much a ‘if I don’t save them then who will’ along with obviously the supportive people he has around him

What is the health of your OC?

He’s not exactly a health freak, he enjoys drinking just a little bit too much and enjoys smoking weed, he did smoke cigarettes but with advice from sledge he got an electric cigarette instead. He eats pretty much whatever he wants not thinking too much about it (until he gets food poisoning or some shit) so not in the best of shape but he’s not out of shape either with his profession it’s hard to be out of shape and still meet expectations

Does your OC think with his/her head or heart?

A bit of both, outside of missions/training he thinks with his heart

What are your OC’s thoughts on death?

His own death doesn’t phase him, he’s come close more than once and he knows its gonna happen one day, so he accepts it

What are some of your OC’s strengths?

His situational awareness and skill with knives, anger management, never give up attitude

What are some of your OC’s weaknesses?

How much he cares for others, it can be too much and lead to him making impulsive choices, his trouble with forgiving people like the whole lion situation on a good day he’ll be civil with Olivier but on others not so much so he just tries to avoid Oli as much as possible, he’s also still weary about the other GIGN ops after the whole incident even though he loves the others he hasn’t forgotten the looks on their faces during the stand off and the choice words that were exchanged

How does your OC take criticism?

Not well he finds it a bit degrading and will struggle to see where he went wrong because he’s usually pretty good at pointing out his own flaws and failures

What does your OC think of him/herself?

He struggles with having an identity like he’s not really sure who he is, what type of person he is, but even still he has a very negative viewpoint of himself with how little he actually understands

What is the general impression your OC gives other people?

Snarky little kid who needs to cheer up a bit

How emotionally/mentally vulnerable is your OC with other people?

Not very unless they become close, the people who he’s vulnerable with the most is thatcher followed closely by bandit, but they are working on that

How does your OC display love?

Not a big fan of pda but loves cuddling on the couch with his quilt  

What is your OC’s favourite drink?

Non-alcoholic: probably original Lucozade

Alcoholic: Heineken or Becks

What is your OC’s favourite food?

Probably tuna pasta or chicken ceaser wrap

What is your OC’s favourite sweet?

Skittles, when he’s in the mood to be a little shit he will down a bag of them with a red bull

What is your OC’s favourite season?

Autumn/winter

What is your OC’s favourite kind of weather?

Where it’s a little chilly but not cold, like the sky is grey but you can still walk around only needing a hoodie/light jacket

What is your OC’s favourite book?

Game of Thrones

What is your OC’s favourite movie and/or TV show?

Movie: Guy Ritchie’s sherlock Holmes films (with RDJ and Jude Law)

TV show: line of duty or game of thrones or Luther although air crash investigation is something he will happily both binge watch and leave as background music

What is your OC’s favourite kind music (and song if there is one)?

He loves most types of music, focuses more on good songs than a good genre, his favourite song would probably either ‘I was just a kid’ or ‘Amsterdam’ both by nothing but thieves

What is your OC’s favourite form of entertainment?

Video games

What is your OC’s favourite colour?

Dark blue

What is your OC’s favourite animal?

Wolf

What is your OC’s favourite sound?

Thunderstorms

What is your OC’s favourite time of day?

late nights/early morning when everything is calm

What is your OC’s favourite kind of ice cream?

Mint chocolate

What is your OC’s favourite dinosaur?

carnotaurus

[lalcne-blog]

index: dusk wyvern

midnight. silent nights. fireplaces. ripped jeans. hot chocolate in winter. silver earrings. adrenaline rushes. protectiveness. forgotten memories. challenging authority without a word. gossamer.

          STONY EYES STARE at the equally stony path below, feet rushing before him, but he doesn’t zero in on a single pair. his mind is completely in the clouds -- or perhaps the stars, as there are no real clouds to be seen and the stars are blinking down on him, like they’re watching him.

          no one pays him any mind, and that’s just how he wants it. he doesn’t want to be brought back to the unseelie guards, to be questioned about things he doesn’t know, to be eyed suspiciously when he refuses to talk, as if he isn’t just a child.

          a child with amnesia, sure, but still a child.

          he knows what those people thought of him. they thought their voices were low enough that he wouldn’t hear, but they were wrong. so, so wrong.

          ❝ does he really not know where his parents are ?? ❞

          ❝ best case scenario, he’s probably repressing it. ❞

          ❝ and worst case scenario ?? ❞

          ❝ he not only knows what happened, but he caused it. ❞

          ❝ what ?? but he’s just a kid !! ❞

          ❝ it wouldn’t be the first time. ❞

          he doesn’t know what was said after that, because the time they returned, he was long gone.

          now he sits on a low wall near the edge of the court, the exit to his right. it leads into the dense forest, a place completely unknown, a place he could die in.

          it has never looked so inviting.

          it takes him only five minutes to make his decision, and just like that, he’s disappeared, almost wiped from existence.

          he’s eight years old, and he’s decided he’s going to die in a beautiful forest glade covered in flowers.

          there was no plan before he left the unseelie court behind, and there still isn’t one. he’s never been good at strategy ( he thinks ). perhaps all along, the plan has been to die, and he’s only just realising it.

          his stomach grumbles and his throat itches, goosebumps rising on his skin from the cold. not for the first time, he wonders about his parents, about their faces and names and whether they loved him. how does he know parents are supposed to love their children when he doesn’t even remember if he has any ?? why can he remember so much yet so little ??

          he closes his eyes for what he thinks ( hopes ) is the last time when he feels a weight on his chest. it’s not heavy, but it’s enough for one of his eyes to open in surprise. sitting there, completely out of place on his dirty clothing, is a bunch of green grapes. he stares at them for a long moment before noticing the wooden bowl of water by his side, along with the large piece of paperbark beside it.

          when he picks the bark up, he sees the message scrawled inside:

          ❛ hello !! i noticed you out here and thought you might need something to eat and drink, so here !! i’ll check up on you later !! ❜

          the message isn’t signed, but even if it was, he wouldn’t trust it. for what reason would anyone help him other than for personal gain ?? or perhaps the grapes and water are poisonous and made to help him die quicker.

          he takes a grape and pops it into his mouth.

          the provisions weren’t poisonous and he still doesn’t know how he feels about that.

          he’s being fed twice a day from the mysterious source, a message accompanying each meal, asking him how he is and if he needs anything. he’s long since figured out that this person ( ? ) doesn’t have it out for him, but where does that leave him ?? their motives are still so unclear.

          it’s after dinner one night that he finally calls out, ❝ what do you want from me ?? ❞

          a piece of paperbark floats down. ❛ nothing !! i was just worried about you. i still am ❜

          ❝ so, what ?? are you going to keep looking after me for the next ten years ?? don’t you have better things to do ?? i think i should get going. ❞

          he doesn’t know where he could possibly go, but he can’t keep imposing. it isn’t wise to depend on another person for everything you need. he thinks that’s what parents are for, at least when the children are as young as he is, but that piece of knowledge seems like such a far off memory that it barely even registers in his mind.

          it takes a little longer for a reply to come, but it eventually does, falling right into his cupped hands.

          ❛ okay. it’ll be my parting gift. ❜

          he doesn’t know what that means, and he wants to ask, but he doesn’t think he’ll get a response. the slight presence he feels when the mysterious helper is near has gone. all he can do for now is lie on the uneven grass and hope sleep comes easily to him.

          when he wakes, he’s damp and cold and there is a trail of flowers leading out of the clearing.

          ah, a parting gift.

          ❝ thank you, ❞ he mutters, and to his left, a wilted rose comes back to light.

          the skull bois are a perfect fit for him. rather than depending on one person, they lift each other up, working as a team to obtain what they need. he follows a leader while being allowed to make his own decisions and feels as though he has control for the first time in his life -- that he can remember, anyway.

          when the path of flowers led him right to the skull bois’ meeting place, he was initially apprehensive. who wouldn’t be ?? they’re strangers -- and they definitely act strange -- and have no reason to deal with him. but then they welcome his story with open arms, believe him when he says he doesn’t remember who he is, allows him to call himself whatever he wants, giving him the freedom he doesn’t think he’s ever had.

          he prefers not to rely on anyone else for his own food and other necessities. he goes into town to learn how to steal, his wings making his life easier, and he thinks he’s become addicted to the adrenaline rush that comes with the thrill of theft.

          while he would never say it out loud, he does love his newfound family. saying it aloud makes it seem far more real, something he can never take back, something that could be used against him. he knows that the skull bois would never do such a thing to him. they’re in the same position as he is, after all, without families to love and understand them. they’re all in this together.

          he soon realises that he isn’t worried about the skull bois using his words against him, but anyone else they might encounter. it’s only then that he realises just how much he’d be willing to lose for this makeshift family.

          despite not remembering attending school as a child, dusk isn’t completely terrible at it. his core subjects and spelling need work, as does his handwriting, but illumia is a good tutor for the first two at the very least. she’s the only one he has around on a constant basis during their first year at lucille, and her presence is a welcome one despite how uneasy he feels at relying on her so much. he decides to make it an equal exchange by helping her with her athletic ability and keeping her company on trips to the library.

          the other students don’t matter all that much. they’re friendly ( aside from those jerks who underestimated his ability to kick all of their asses at once ) and he gets along with them, but he never feels a need to go out of his way to befriend them.

          until one day.

          he can’t say his opinion changes as much as he’s introduced to something new, something he had never thought for himself before. he’s seen it, of course. he’s seen it in finny and illumia’s eyes when they look at each other as if they aren’t all there watching them. it’s the only semblance of romance he’s ever seen in his life, but it’s strong enough to have left a lasting impression on him, and he wonders if this is how it begins -- a feeling of interest that leaves you wanting more, if only just another conversation.

          not that there was much of a conversation for him to begin with, at least not in the conventional sense.

          pompeii is her name, and at first glance, she doesn’t seem all that impressive, just another face in class that he’s seen but not heard. he’s riding the high of beating the class jerks in a one on four fight and his confidence is still unwavering.

          this is his first mistake.

          the girl throws him for a loop, and he has to work to dodge her attacks, the first time in class he’s ever had to do so. it’s a surprise, but not an unwelcome one, and he thinks to himself to never tell her that as she nearly pins him to the mat.

          their professor calls time with neither of them winning, but his ego isn’t bruised. he’s found something more valuable than win, even if he can’t quite put a name to it, and that’s more than enough to satisfy him.

          he composes himself before returning to where the rest of the class is lined up, his expression schooled into his usual deadpan, but judging by illumia’s knowing look, he'll have some explaining to do later.

          school has never been where he thrives, and so his decision to not continue his education is an easy one.

          or, at least it’s supposed to be.

          he watches illumia struggle with herself during the weeks leading up to their high school graduation, and he helps in small ways, like bringing her coffee and showing her silly cat videos when they have a rare break. he never asks her what’s wrong because he already knows. he’s seen it coming for a long while now.

          she must know that he knows, because they’re silently studying in the library ( well, she is ) one day when she says, without looking up, ❝ i don’t want to upset him. ❞

          his first thought is that he knows how she feels, just with someone else as equally important to him. that thought is replaced by a feeling of dread as he realises just what this means, that so much of his mind has congregated around a single person, someone he doesn’t feel he does anything for when they do everything for him, even if they don’t know it yet. perhaps they never will.

          he thinks of his own decisions, of how leaving seemed like the obvious choice only two minutes ago, but now everything has been spun on its head. he’s suddenly worrying about what she will think of his decision, if she’ll be upset -- fuck, she probably will be -- but what if she isn’t ?? then this pressure he’s feeling would all be for nothing and he’d feel foolish. perhaps even betrayed.

          betrayed ?? but for what ?? for her not living up to the idealistic situation in his mind ?? how is that fair on her ?? and how could he let his happiness hinge on one person’s shoulders ??

          after all, she has no obligation to be around him.

          fear grips him just as he grips the edges of the table with both hands, a subtle movement that illumia will no doubt notice, but he’s sure she sees right through him anyway. a lump rises in his throat as he reminds himself of the rule he’s made for himself since childhood:

          don’t depend on anyone.

          the skull bois are the exception because it’s a team effort, it always has been, but for him to put so much weight in the feelings of just one person ?? for his feelings to be influenced so strongly and so deeply by a single person who could turn around and decide that he’s worthless at the drop of a hat goes against all he believes in.

          when he raises his head to meet illumia’s worried eyes, he says, ❝ i don’t want to, either. ❞

          things have changed.

          the atmosphere of the skull bois has changed drastically since leaving, and dusk knows he isn’t helping. he has never been a great motivator. he’s good for sarcasm and the occasional ❛ big brother ❜ moment, but nothing else, and it’s clear that it isn’t enough. he wonders how he could have been so blind.

          the skull bois have always depended on finny. to think otherwise is foolish.

          this revelation stirs up mixed feelings inside of him. his natural instinct is to run from the situation in an attempt to regain his independence, but he can’t do that this time. these are his people, his family, and he can’t just abandon them. his flight response is being challenged for the first time and, at the moment, he’s winning.

          but what of what ( who ) he left behind ??

          his heart aches with guilt for the girl he selfishly left for his own fears. she likely hates him now, though he’s too scared to ask illumia. he steals things he thinks she’d like, only for him to change his mind about giving them to her and using illumia as a middleman instead.

          everything is a result of his own fear and cowardice, and perhaps one day he will manage to let that go, but today is not that day.

          perhaps that day will never come.

[svartalfhild]

2018, I Won’t Miss You

A.k.a. I call out this year for all the ways it fucked me over and reflect on a few good experiences.

This year was the first year I’ve ever had a smart phone, which ended up being pretty damn useful, even essential at some points.  However, the counterbalance was that I had to go through finding out how to live in a post-school existence, and that was not pretty, because it put me at all new levels of social isolation and uncertainty.  I stressed super hard about finding a new job.  I ultimately didn’t get one and lost hours at my current job because I thought I was going to be transitioning to a better job at a toy store, but they laid me off only a few weeks after hiring me to replace me with someone with better availability.  They said I could stay on as a “seasonal worker” but it’s past Christmas and I haven’t been asked to fill a single shift since they benched me in September, so saying I still work there is kind of a joke at this point.

The good news is, despite the stress of failing to get a better job, I’ve added art as an occasional source of extra income, starting with doing the cover illustration for a short story my mother published earlier this year and later with opening commissions to the online community.

My mental health didn’t have a super great year, though, especially in the first half.  On top of the job bullshit and the dealing with not knowing how to live life without school, I was feeling intensely bleak about my existence.  I was in an excruciating amount of emotional pain because of things I couldn’t control, and it festered because I had the free time to ruminate about how lonely and dejected I felt.  I hadn’t felt quite that bad in several years, actually.  It’s hard to compete with the shit I was going through in middle school, but this came alarmingly close. 

I think my biggest mistake was trying to force myself to be fine again as soon as possible when it took me a couple years to get past the shit that plagued me when I was 12.  I honestly think, though, that there was a little while there from about July to late September when I was coping pretty well.  I don’t know what happened in late spring to make that happen, but I was in a state of higher functioning for a bit in the summer.

The sad thing is that here at the end of the year, I am once again struggling with the same shit; I’m just a whole lot better with how that affects my behaviour towards other people now.  I do feel like I’ve learned how to better interact with people and shield those I love from the worst of my mental health nonsense.  In turn, I think that has greatly improved my relationships and made me less prone to beating myself up over the things I say.  Progress.

And hey!  I did manage to do some pretty rad things this year, despite all the crap my physical and mental health were hefting onto me.  I got on a plane for the first time and traveled by myself to Oregon to be with some of my closest friends, who I’d only ever known through the internet before.  We went to a convention together and had a really awesome time getting our asses kicked at AtlA themed dodgeball dressed as our DnD characters.  I went through a haunted house for the first time and found out that I’m too rational to be scared by a lot of that sort of stuff (but it was still fun).  I got to go to huge bookstore and see a first American edition of Fellowship of the Ring.  I think the best part of that whole trip, though, was just living with friends and getting a taste of what life without my family’s control could be like.  For once in my life, I trusted that everyone and everything was going to be okay, and for a few days, I was really happy.  Because of that, though, I spent a lot of the day that I left crying or trying not to cry.  Having so much of what you want and then having to leave it is...really upsetting, as it turns out.

But anyway.  I also managed to complete an application to grad school, so even though my whole Find A Good Job plan didn’t work, I still took a step towards some kind of life goal and I don’t have to have a total existential crisis just yet.  I don’t have high expectations about being accepted, but I do have some hopes and that’s something I can hold onto going into next year.

A lot changed with my family this past year.  Dealing with the wake of my grandfather’s sudden death was a major issue all year that seemed almost handled until my grandmother died just a couple months ago, which threw everything back into chaos and despair.  Death and loss have been an awful theme for me this year in general.  On top of my grandparents’ deaths, my dad’s best friend committed suicide, and a friend of mine, who I know to have been suicidal in the past, completely disappeared from the internet when I wasn’t looking, and I was unable to track her down to find out if she was okay.  Other friends lost people who were dear to them as well.  The world was ravaged by increasingly terrible disasters on top of that.  Needless to say, my empathy circuits are fucking fried.

Thankfully, life handed me some pretty great distractions from its bullshit, like an awesome DnD campaign and lots of time with assorted other TTRPGs, or numerous video games like Pillars of Eternity II: Deadire, Fallout 4, and Overwatch.  Netflix brought me countless hours of enjoyment, and my brother got me to watch all of Stargate SG1 with him, which I wasn’t super into at first, but it grew on me.  I started knitting again for the first time in years, because I love knitting scarves for people.  I did a lot of fic writing, but it wasn’t really fanfiction so much as additional content for my tabletop games.  Same goes for art. 

It’s been over a year now since I’ve posted any proper fanfic or fanart, which feels weird, but I think I’ve become so exhausted with the politics of being a fan content creator that I haven’t had the motivation for it.  It’s much easier to keep your passion for something going when you don’t hope to attract the attention of thousands of people, and instead you’re making things for a story you made up with your closest friends.  The only people whose attention you need to care about then are a handful of people who are already inherently invested.

Of course, that’s not to say that I don’t get sad about my work sometimes anyway, regardless of what I’m creating and for whom.  Depression is and has been a real dick this year, and it made me procrastinate on my grad app manuscript to the point where I had to stress years off my life cramming the creation of a 10k word original short story into a single month just before the deadline.  I managed it, though, and that’s the important thing.

I don’t know what to expect from 2019 except more nonsense, because there’s always copious amounts of nonsense.  Having high expectations, given what the past few years have been like, seems rather silly at this point.  I suppose what the new year shapes up to be will largely hinge on whether I get accepted to grad school in March or not.  If I do, then it’ll be a year of big change in my life, going away to live on my own in a different state.  If I don’t, then it’ll just be More Of Same, still living with my parents, working part-time at a shit food service job, looking for a new job, and tearing my hair out trying to get everything together for more grad school applications. 

One way or the other, though, I intend to try to finally get treatment for my mental illness.  I am tired of being like this and I’m tired of having my memory and focus abilities steadily destroyed by this shit.  If anything goes right next year, let it be that.

[mcors]

A Sickle Cell Child

by Hertz Nazaire

Just coming back from the 46th Annual National Convention for the Sickle Cell Disease Association of America, Inc. (SCDAA).

On Friday, October 12, from 1:30 pm – 3:00 pm for the Lonzie Lee Jones Patient Advocacy Symposium. We played an educational version of Hollywood Squares, everyone was having a good time happy, laughing, and smiling. 

We all know how heavy the Sickle Cell topic can be for all of us touched by this pain.

A fellow Warrior in the audience stood up at the end and gave us all a shock to the system.

A reminder that this pain runs very deep and everyone is trying very hard to find a way to erase it from existence. 

What she had to say comes from a line of talk, that we hear often. How to stop a child with Sickle Cell Disease from ever being born. Many people push hard for couples to get tested and knowing their status. But some people feel strongly that none of us who have the Sickle Trait or Disease should ever have sex and hells no on having a child.

So sitting there on stage with a group of successful adults and young people who have been standing against this pain all of their lives and still finding their gifts through hard effort. I felt drained.

I spoke out loud, not to reply to the beautiful young lady saying these things, but to myself.

I needed to remind myself, that no matter how depressed I get in this life, no matter the hardships I face, I still want to live. I still want to exist. I still have my art to create.

I am really tired of people thinking they have a right to erase my mother's choice. One of the very few things I know about my mother is the fact that she told me that my father wanted her to have an abortion when she got pregnant with me. My mother made a different choice. And I exist in this world because of that choice. A sperm cell is nothing without an egg, and an egg is nothing without that sperm cell but although it take the two. This is a choice that I feel only a woman can make because her body has to carry that life forward, while most men can simply walk away like my father did, like my step-father did.

I had a chance to be a father once. On September 11, 2001. I made love to my girlfriend and we had the chance to bring a life into this world. The thing is, I was not even thinking about her Sickle Cell Trait status. I never really had a chance to think about it, not in this world. Mental Health had more to do with why a choice was made and I never became a father. 

I blame myself even now, that I was not strong enough to guide her through her sadness and tears about the pregnancy. I was still there with her although I wanted to run, I was at that Planned Parenthood office in that waiting room watching 12 year olds making the same choices adults should only make. I was 28 and I thought we could have made a different choice together.

I still feel that this was my greatest failure as a man, I wish I had more money, it is always about MONEY! I loved this girl but honestly in the end I see like most women who enter my life it was about the sex and how long my priapism fueled penis lasted.

I try to give myself some slack, because you have to understand being a male with Sickle Cell is HARD! You have to try so much harder to get a girl to notice you. We try HARD to please the women who enter our lives. I was always the sucker who wrote the love poetry, and got the roses delivered without the need for a holiday. I was a painter so most women I've been around long enough have a portrait I painted to show them they were on my mind.

When you live with Sickle Cell Pain and this pain only has one thing to show you about living in your body. It HURTS! It hurts badly! Then you discover sex and become driven to turn it into an art. I had a long distance girlfriend who called me "Voodoo Dick" she would drive the 5 hours it took to get into my bed when she had time off from work. 

I was young and still pretty stupid and we would have these marathon sex sessions, and because of my Sickle Cell and Priapism, we once went at it for over 8 hours only stoping for short breaks of water. 

Priapism is the worst kind of Sickle Pain a man can have, it takes everything from you mentally.

It crushes you and it can take away your ability to even feel like a man. Sometimes for me these erections came without the pain, I don't know why but I was always grateful because the pain was never a pleasure. At the time I was young and sex was just one of those challenges I had to work harder at than any other male.

Everything in my life takes a huge amount of effort, I have been in love many times. I have also been deeply alone for the past 12 years. Because I love women way too much but I can't be stupid about my efforts any longer. I am still a very sexual creature inside and any woman who enters my life would need to know that about me. Even at 45, my heart may not survive some of the things I did at 25 but I am very intense about all I do. My sexuality is still very intense and focused on art creation. Anything you can't put all your effort into is just not worth doing for me.

Women have told me in the past that I am too intense, intimidating, or feel they have to walk on egg shells around me. I take them at their word that I am that type of man. I don't enjoy stress, I have been hospitalized enough times over needless drama. Fighting for your life in an ICU just because someone does not understand that picking a fight just to stress you out is not a healthy way to show love.

I've been abused enough in my life, I don't want to be an abuser when all I want is someone to love and share my days with me. Not all my days will be pain free. Nothing in my life is painless, I am surrounded by eggshells so you'll need to learn how to walk on a minefield. I don't avoid something because it's hard. I want to use my energy and effort in the best and most efficient way possible. 

We are all going to die someday none of us is immune from Death is is our fate. But we have to learn to respect that all lives should have that chance to exist and go through that process we call Life.

Having to hear that someone's purpose in life is to find the most efficient way to make sure others with my genetic make up no longer exists in this world is deeply hurtful to me. I understand the problem life with Sickle Cell is really hard, I know this, I'm living that life.

I just don't understand your rejection of the efforts it took for me to still be here standing in the same space and breathing the same air you breathe. 

Spend all the effort you want on Sickle Cell Trait education to avoid more lives of hardship like mines. My personal feelings are your efforts are misguided.  The answer is not how to wipe us out of existence so you can get rid of a pain disease that is hard for you to look at. A life is a life. 

My life is providing this world with a challenge I understand that, but I have no choice but to live this life and fight for my own existence. I want to survive because my brain has the awareness that my life matters even when it is painful to live that life. It still matters that I am here. I understand I am not the best man or mate for anyone to fall in love with.

But instead of trying to get rid of people like me, should the effort not be on how to make my life better? How to end my painful moments, how to help me carry out my purpose?

If I was born brain-dead I would not want to be here, I would not even be aware that I wanted to live or even what the concept of life means. My brain is aware that I exist. Most of my body still functions well enough for a decent life. In fact I know I am having a far better life than most who never have to face the challenges of Sickle Cell Disease. Many are born into terrible conditions of existence surrounded by war, hatred, and deep poverty. A suffering that no human should go through. Yet no one is staying let's educate the world about stoping these people from being born into these conditions. No they recognize that the condition is the problem not the life living it. The condition should be the focus. 

We are buying into an idea where we are saying these people should not have been born. I know some in this world think I should never have been born because I am Black. Simple as that! Now we are giving them the excuse of Sickle Cell Disease to wipe us out? Because Sickle Cell is Hard? Hard on who? On them?

Educate people to make their choices all you want. I have spoken to a few mothers who had to make that choice when they found out they were pregnant and found out both the man and woman have the sickle cell trait. They wanted to know about my life so far.  I told them of all my hardships and challenges. And they made a choice based on my experience. 

Yet my challenges, all came from the fact I only knew my mother for about 5 years of my life.  She died when I was 13 and I did not start to live with her until I was about 8. Educate these people with compassion, do not teach them that there is only one acceptable choice or one moral choice based on your life experience. Not everyone is ready to be a parent, and not everyone should be a parent regardless if Sickle Cell plays a role in that choice. 

[grundyscribbling]

@rose-of-the-bright-sea said:

I am really happy you couldn't limit to just one. Your list was fantastic. Can I be a jerk and also ask for a favorite female elf?

You do realize I will no more be able to narrow this down to only one female elf than I could for male elves, right? Actually, it will be worse for the female elves, because there’s fewer of them, which means in general the ones we know are standouts. And because Tolkien says so little about most of these ladies, a lot of this is headcanon!

Findis. High Queen of the Noldor, because unlike the rest of her siblings, she didn’t leave. She stayed, and she kept right on doing the work and the remaining Noldor adore her for it, because she took care of them in the worst time in their history, when it felt like the whole world was falling apart. This is my headcanon and I will not be budged from it.

Idril. Turgon was a hot mess even before he laid down the ‘no one leaves’ rule in Gondolin. He was traumatized by Elenwë’s death, and went to extremes with Ulmo’s ‘find a hidden place’ message, to the point that he wouldn’t listen when he finally got his ‘time to go’ sign. (And that’s 100% on him, not Maeglin. Maeglin didn’t make that call, it wasn’t his to make, and he didn’t have the power to overrule it. I’ll stop now with the Maeglin issue.) So I feel like Idril did a lot of the admin and day to day work in Gondolin, because while Turgon tried, he wasn’t really in a fit state to deal with it. He focused on the defense and keeping the city hidden. That left his daughter to do most of the rest. Idril is also the one who organized the evacuation (I have a lot more ideas on this, there’s fic coming up), and the trek to Sirion once Gondolin fell, and she was doing that while losing/having just lost the majority of the people she’d known all her life. Once they make it to Sirion, she’s the one who handles the negotiations with the Sindar, and takes primary responsibility for integrating her people into the settlement. Then she keeps it together until Eärendil’s a young adult before heading off on a last-ditch bid to find the way West with Tuor.

Elwing. I know there are people who say she abandoned her kids, but have they read the words of the Oath? Death we will deal him ere Day’s ending. The sons of Fëanor swore to kill anyone who had not just withheld, but anyone who hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a Silmaril. The last place a smart mother who happens to have a Silmaril wants her kids is standing near her when the sons of Fëanor show up, because she has no reason to expect they aren’t going to try to kill her. After all, neither law nor love nor league of swords was going to stop them. That’s their Oath. (And let’s recall that these people have not only killed her parents and the majority of her people, as far as Elwing knows, they narrowly missed killing her as a child.) What Elwing believed to be her last act was one of defiance – but also one intended to keep her sons safe by removing the Silmaril from the board. Without that around, Elros and Elrond had a chance to get away and live free of the threat of the Kinslayers. It’s not her fault it didn’t quite work out as planned. She’s also not wasting her time once she and her husband reach the West – while he’s off talking to the Valar, she’s talking to Olwë’s people, reminding them it’s not just the Noldor suffering in Beleriand. That the Teleri agree to ferry the Army of the West on their ships is partly her doing. Also, let me point out that Sirion existed before the Noldor got there from Gondolin, so calling Eärendil ‘Lord of Sirion’ may be the Noldor take, but Elwing is the daughter of Dior Eluchil, she’s who the Sindar look to.

Celebrian gets a lousy deal in canon, because we barely hear anything about her. We know who her parents are, who her husband is, and who her kids are, but we don’t even know when she’s born, and by the time the events of The Hobbit begin, she’s sailed. But she must have had something going for her to end up with Elrond – you can’t tell me half the single female elves in Middle Earth weren’t trying to catch his eye – and I really doubt the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn could be boring or conventional. I picture her thick as thieves with her cousin Thranduil when she was young, and spending lots of time watching her cousin Celebrimbor in his workshop. (She’s the only non-apprentice allowed to hang out while he’s working. He gets irritable and snappish if anyone else hovers.)

Miriel – Can we please play My Way for a highly talented woman who knew her own mind and body and wouldn’t back down even for the Valar? (You can see where Fëanor gets it from…) Celegorm inherited both his hair and his temper from her.

Indis – Many people look at Finwë’s marriages as Miriel vs Indis, and a source of strife. No one polled Indis about that - or Miriel, for that matter. She and Miriel were close, and no one asked the Valar to stick their noses into purely elvish matters. (Did I mention I don’t think the elves were nearly as rigid about the rules governing marriage prior to arriving in Aman?) She does get a lot of heartache from Fëanor, because she’s perfectly ready to be a stepmom, aunty, or whatever he’ll allow, but he wants nothing to do with her and rarely misses an opportunity to show it. But he’s a good older brother, and she could live with just that if he didn’t try to teach his sons to freeze her out too. Yet somehow, despite it all, she never saw Fëanor’s crazy getting nearly all her children and grandchildren killed coming. She and Miriel spend a lot of time together in the First Age. (Fëanor’s in deep shit if Mandos ever lets him out... He’d be well advised to spend his time composing the mother of all apologies.)

And for anyone who thought I was going to pick Artanis/Galadriel and Irissë/Aredhel, they’re my favorite terrible twosome. (Put them together with Ambarussa and anything can happen. Seriously, Aman trembles. If Fëanor hadn’t been such an idiot, he’d have just sent the four of them to Beleriand and waited...)