#why are you pushing her content to give her more money and do more harm to the trans community

[ryn-holt]

Me Seeing a Video about new Cozy Games: Fuck yeah I’m always on the lookout for new games that aren’t already on my radar

Stupid Fucking Asshole: And then there’s Hog-

Me: Fuck all the way off to hell motherfucker

[inuhalfdemon]

Dirty Dealings (5/21)

Word Count: 3,643 Words

Chapter 5: The Attack

“The fucking brute…” - Alastor

[[Reader discretion advised: This chapter contains a moment of physical and sexual violence. Though not explicit, I understand there may be some who wish to read past this content and continue on with the story. I have placed a page break (double lines) below that marks the content beginning just after the event. Take care reading.]]

New Orleans, Louisiana

April 7th, 1975

Evening found Addie quietly walking the streets of New Orleans alone. Lights along the walkway were only just starting to flicker to life. Soon, moths would be dancing circles in their dim-casted light. She hummed to herself softly, watching the colors of day draining slowly from the sky in a wash of purple, orange and yellow.

So distracted was she, she didn’t catch the movement of someone reaching for her from the shadows of a long, dark back-alley before she was roughly yanked to the side.

Addie gasped, a very large man pinning her hard against the corner of a brick wall. She started to scream but his large hand covered her mouth, slamming her head against rough stone.

“Shhhhhhhhhh….” He snarled softly. The smell of alcohol and a nauseatingly-pungent body odor wafted off of him. “None of that now, little missy.” His voice rumbled, blowing stank, hot breath across her face.

“Where’s your money?” He asked her, keeping her pressed against the wall of the alley, he drug her roughly against the brick, bringing her further into the dark.

Her eyes were wide, his large, dirty hand still pushing her hard against her mouth. She shook her head helplessly.

“What? No money?” He grunted. “None?” He pushed himself against her, pinning every part of her to the cold alley wall. “Well, at least you’re a pretty thing….” She could feel his erection against her hip.

Panic gripped her and she tried to twist herself from the tight grip he held on her. His fingers closed roughly along her mouth and jaw, slamming her head into the brick again, harder this time. She made a sharp, muffled cry at the pain that violently erupted from her skull. Dazed, she saw pinpoints of light dancing across her vision. He was now pushing her arms up above her head, clenching both of her wrists easily in one heavy hand as he quickly fumbled with his belt. She tried to jerk away, but his hold on her was absolute. Adrenaline shot coldly through her, realizing she wouldn’t escape this. He couldn’t kill her but he could certainly harm her. And, even when it was over and her body healed; he would forget her and everything he had done, but she wouldn’t.

“Fuck it.” He growled, giving up on the belt for now, he grabbed at the waist of her jeans, pulling them down.

“No!” She cried, “No, don’t! Please…” The alley was becoming engulfed in more darkness. Maybe if she was lucky, she would pass out, wake up battered but alive in a dumpster somewhere…

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Well, what luck have I!?” A voice cried out happily in the dark.

“I was just on my way to find you, and here you are!” Alastor stood in human form, his hands folded atop his long black cane set before him, dim light from the opening in the alley glinting off his spectacles…a wide smile splitting his face.

The man, easily keeping Addie pinned to the wall, barely even assessed Alastor’s spindly frame when turning to look at him. The man easily towered over and greatly out-weighed him.

“Oh! And good evening, Adeline!” Alastor beamed, lifting one hand in a small wave. “Good old, New Orleans…bringing fine folks together!” He shook his head and laughed.

“What the fuck do you want?” The man demanded, finally letting go of Adeline and facing Alastor.

“Why, I am here to settle up with you on a deal, my friend!” Alastor told him, his smile creeping wider across his face.

“I don’t know who the fuck you even are.” The man said, stopping just in front of who he thought to be a rather small, silly man.  

“No, you don’t.” Alastor allowed. “But, you do know a very good friend of mine. A gentleman by the name of….Husker."

The change in the man was instant. All strength and confidence leaving him.

“Well, where is he then!?” The man barked, suddenly entirely unsure of Alastor now.

“Oh, well,” Alastor began, walking past the man to stand beside him, facing Adeline. “Husker and I had a bit of fun at gambling, you see. Your soul -among others - just happened to be part of the whole pot - which I won, naturally. Of course, Husker…” Alastor laughed, seeming to be very much enjoying telling the man all of this. “He lost a lot more than that. Never knows when to quit while he’s ahead, that one. Such a shame really, he had such great potential as an Overlord in Hell.”

The man was facing the opening of the alley, his eyes on Alastor. Addie watched as they both starred at each, neither of them moving.

Suddenly, the man made to bolt away when a frighteningly huge, long, clawed and twisting limb caught him and smashed him into the brick wall. The limb was a grotesque form of Alastor’s arm, holding the man fast to the stone wall. Alastor smiled wickedly at the man, green tendrils of smoke curling and uncurling around him as his body started to twist and lengthen, large, razor sharp fangs protruding from his mouth.

“You-you can’t do this!” The man was yelling. “I didn’t make a deal with you!”

A sharp, distorted and piercing laughter was emanating from Alastor’s shifting form now, “The terms of your contract have been met,” The words came in sharp, hissing… “I now hold it within my possession.” A rippling, chuckle reverberated off the walls within the alley. “I own you.”

The man was screaming now, struggling as green and shadow came for him. 

“Oh, Adeline…” Alastor sung to her in a high, screeching radio-static voice. “Please, be a dear and excuse us. I have…private business that needs attending to.”

She rushed down and out from the mouth of the alley.

Her legs shaking, she went to the nearest streetlight, sliding down an empty store front to collapse on the walk. Her hands shook and she could feel her heartbeat racing against her chest and her temples. The hackles on the back of her neck were standing on end; a natural instinct sending her into a state of flight. She swallowed down her growing panic, fighting to steady herself. Luc had saved her, she wasn’t actually afraid of him... But, she knew that wasn’t fully true…a part of her most certainly was afraid of him; of whatever he really was.

After some time, he strolled out of the alley – having shifted back into human form, brushing dirt from the sleeves of his suit and straightening one of the lapels of his jacket. “Well, that just gave me an appetite for a proper meal!” He laughed. “Would you care to join me for dinner? My treat, of course!” He went to her, offering his hand and helping her to stand up from the cold and damp walkway.

Addie had had enough time to recover herself, but she was still rather shaky and felt out of sorts. She brushed the hair back from her face absently, trying to find something to say to Luc when he hissed sharply,

“The fucking brute…” She flinched at the sharpness of his disgust, though his ever-present smile was still there, wide across his face.

He had noticed a trickle of blood seeping from her hair line. The man had split Addie’s head open, smashing her into the wall but the injury had already healed completely. Flourishing, his hand, he produced a handkerchief and gave it to her so that she may clean the area.

“I give you my most sincerest apologies, dear Adeline.” He told her, as sincerely -she thought- as he had ever been with her.

“It’s fine…it’s-it’s already healed-“ She pressed the cloth to where the blood remained.

“It most certainly is not fine.” He corrected her. “I’m afraid I have been rather…slack…in my responsibilities. I’ve held Husker’s souls to be gathered for some time now. Had I gotten the job done, this never would have happened to you. For that, I am deeply sorry. It will not happen again.”

She was surprised by how bothered he really seemed by the whole event. She didn’t think - or fathom – why he would possibly care. It’s not like it impacted the terms of their deal. She couldn’t be killed. What did it matter to him if she were hurt, molested or raped? She just couldn’t make sense of it.

She wiped at the line of blood with the handkerchief. When she had finished, he took it from her briefly, using it to swipe away at a small spot she had missed.  Then, with a quickly performed flourish, the bloody handkerchief was gone again.

“Now, then,” He regarded her, still smiling but his eyes soft. “How about that dinner? Or,” He reconsidered. “Perhaps, I should see you home and we can do that some other time. Our anniversary is not that far off, after all.” He was very kindly offering her an out.

She suddenly realized…it wasn’t their anniversary. This was the first time he was making a point of spending time with her outside of the yearly date of their deal.

“I think dinner sounds great.” She told him.

“You-,” He tilted his head, watching her closely as he asked, “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Luc. I’m fine, really.” Something very briefly changed in his expression, darkening his mood. It was there and gone in an instant. She knew he really hated being called that name. Still, he allowed it and she felt like it just might be a healthy dose to his ego; so she kept it.

“Did you have something in mind?” She asked him.

“Only to visit the very best dining establishment ever to grace our dear New Orleans!” He announced happily. He spun his long black cane, opening a green, flowing portal.

“My dear,” He offered her his arm, before they both stepped through and directly into a very old, very unique restaurant.

The place was the very embodiment of New Orleans bayou aesthetic. There were skulls and skeletons of various animals – particularly of alligators and snakes – that ordained the walls, old style furniture, tables and a long bar that extended across the diner. Soft lights and candles glowed from all sorts of places, presumably placed about at random.  Odd symbols were burned into bits of old wood here and there about much of the building. Knowing the history of New Orleans, Addie guessed that they were symbols originating from the practice of voodoo, but she wasn’t entirely sure. The whole place was bizarre, almost a classy kind of macabre, and everything…shimmered…in strange, soft transparent green and blue colors.

“Are we-?” She stopped, suddenly. “Are we in Hell?”

He erupted into such a cackling fit, she wasn’t sure if it was because her question was actually that funny to him or if he truly had drug her into his realm of sinners and outcasts just for the sheer enjoyment of it.

“Why, no! Of course, not!” He was still laughing heartily. “This was an old favorite restaurant of mine back when I was alive.” He explained, still snickering. “The staff isn’t the same, of course, but the fine cooking hasn’t changed a bit, I promise you.”

“Wait a minute-“ It was getting to be too much for her to take in. “How-How is something like this even possible!?”

“Oh, dear sweet humanity…” He rolled his eyes. “Best to not overthink these things, darling. Now, I’m famished! What do you say!?”

He led her to an old, rustic round table that sat center in the spacious room, awkwardly surrounded by other tables and empty chairs as if the place was expecting many more patrons. On the table, there were dishes and pots and pans; all sorts of an abundance of hot, steaming Cajun food placed and ready for serving. It smelled….amazing. Two empty plates, two sets of utensils and two crisp glasses of Sazerac were set aside near to the food, as well.

“You’re…eating with me?” She asked, looking at him.

“Of course.” He said, “I hope that’s alright!”

“I just didn’t think you ate-“ She started, then stopped at the expression he was giving her. “Right. Overthinking it…”

He went to one of the chairs, smoothly pulling it out and offering her to take a seat.

She sat down and he quickly busied himself with piling the plates with an assortment of what there was to try. Coming back to their placements, he set her food steaming and hot down for her before seating himself to enjoy his own meal.

She starred at the plate, her mouth watering. She knew she never had – nor ever would she have again – food like this.

He was humming happily, very much enjoying the meal. “Would you be more… ‘comfortable’ in another…form?” She asked him. “I really don’t mind if you’d prefer something else.” She gestured, awkwardly, to his human profile.

“Oh!,” He said, dabbing at his chin with a napkin. “That would be just…lovely,” He leaned back in his chair, his voice melting into radio and his appearance shifting smoothly as he stretched. Red, ears and antlers. He quite liked this form in particular, it seemed.

She started into her own meal and everything she tasted erupted in perfectly heated-flavor across her tongue and in her mouth. She enjoyed it so much, that it was some time before she realized they had spent much of their dinner together in a comfortable and companionable silence.

She briefly felt the strangeness of it when he asked her, “So, Adeline, how are you enjoying your freedom?”

“It’s-“ She started to say, but then she paused.

“If I’m being honest…” She told him truthfully. “I’m not sure.”

Alastor had finished eating for a moment. He raised his glass of Sazerac to his lips, long, furry ears trained on her as he listened.  

“It’s been nearly 25 years.” She sighed, “And, I haven’t accomplished anything I wanted. I’ve just spent all this time and energy just trying to…just trying to get by! It’s-“ She reined herself in. “It’s frustrating.”

“Ah, well,” He said, setting his glass back down. “You’re a smart girl, Adeline. I’m confident you’ll find your way around it.”

“Is that even possible?” She asked him. “Things have changed so much…already. Technology is advancing and there’s so much more being set in place for different things…It just feels like it’s going to get harder and harder.”

He smirked at her. “After everything you have experienced, you still have doubts? That you have possibilities….potential?”

“I’m not sure what I believe anymore.” She told him. “I made a deal with you – for my soul – because I was sure it meant little to me if I died without finding something…something I was meant for here, first. But, you seem to want it, so it must be worth something.”

“A soul like yours, Adeline, a soul that holds so much potential. It’s priceless, no set value can be placed upon it.” He told her. “Consider the soul I only just recently… acquired.” His grin growing at the thought. “Still valuable to me but a sinner’s soul, one who is destined for the rings of Hell…it can’t be compared. Which,” He lifted a finger, and added a little off-handedly, “Is why my friend, Husker, and I will be having a little chat about…standards. So, yes, your soul – in particular – is very valuable to me. I can assure you.”  

“So, you really enjoy this, then? What you do? Collecting…souls?”

“Yes. Very much.” His smile spreading. “I rather like dealing in favors, truths, what-have-you but I find true enjoyment, - empowerment even - in the dealing and collection of souls. It brings me great pleasure and satisfaction to my time in Hell and…it’s awfully rewarding.” He snickered to himself.  

“Well, good for you, then, I suppose.” She said. “Maybe I’ll find that someday…”

They were both quiet for a moment, then he spoke, “Perhaps…I can offer you a favor of my own…a secret, if you will. I still feel somewhat responsible for your having a bad time of it today...and well, could it really do any harm?” He shrugged.

 He leaned forward slightly in his chair, his eyes steady on hers. “No one…actually knows what they are doing, Adeline.”

She starred at him, not fully understanding what he was trying to convey to her here.

“Well…you seem to have it all figured out.” She told him when he didn’t elaborate. “And, what about all this talk about heaven and hell; potential and purpose and –“

“Really, must you overthink everything?” He groaned, moodily, still smiling at her. “Now. I think that’s quite enough of that.” He told her, obviously wanting to be done with the conversation. “There’s a lot more food here for us to enjoy and I – for one – do not like my Cajun cold. So, let’s dig back in!!!”  

He excused himself briefly from the table, gathering both their plates and heaping them high with more food. When she went back to eating what he had brought back for her, she noted that no part of it had cooled, even the slightest. Each part of the meal was still hot, steaming and as delicious as if it had just been pulled from the kitchen to be served.

“Look,” He said, lifting his fork with the end of a steaming sausage stuck within the prongs. “I’ll say this: The clause, it’s not going away. Our deal, is not going away.” He was clarifying to her, “But, know this: my dearest Adeline...”

He placed the fork with the sausage down back onto his plate, eyes on her.  “The potential you carry with you, it’s immensely valuable. To both of us. You may not see it there. But, I do.”

“You wouldn’t know this about me,” He continued. “But, I’m very…picky, with the deals that I choose to make. This deal - in particular - has been especially…” His ears laid back, the tips curling as he finished, “ interesting and entertaining for me.” A wry smile, playing across his face.

“You say you have accomplished nothing,” He went on. “Well, 25 years later and here you are!” He exclaimed. “I’ll admit. I’m impressed.”

 She wasn’t sure why he was telling her this. Her whole perception of him was always so muddled, confused…He loved to tease and torment her. Hell, he wanted to see her completely and utterly fail: to break down. give in and give up her soul so that he may have it and use it for whatever benefit he had in having it. But, he also did things like this. Every year he gifted her something meaningful. He went out of his way to protect her when she needed him... He sat across from her now; sharing in a meal - that he had, somehow - personally prepared and he was saying actual nice things to boost her morale. She couldn’t make head-or-tails of any of it.

She gave him a genuine smile. “Thank you.” She told him. “I really-.” He was watching her, one of his ears tweaking slightly as he waited. “I really needed to hear that.”

“Think nothing of it.” He flashed her a wide grin. “Now, let me tell you about how I came across this fine establishment way ‘back in the day’.” He lifted his fork again, going back to working through the food he still had left to eat. “You see, a dear lady-friend of mine often sang here. ‘Mimzy’ is her name! Such a talent! Why, she could sing and dance the night away like nobody’s business! This one night, I was nervously waiting to hear back from this new ‘local news radio station’ in regards to some employment and-“

And, so the evening went. Alastor and Addie enjoyed their meal together, happily chatting about various things and enjoying each other’s company. When it grew to be quite late, Alastor saw her home to her small studio apartment that she was currently staying in while in New Orleans.

Addie had discovered that the document Alastor had given her when she was staying in Lafayette – the year 1970 – worked to assure anyone she showed it to that she was a resident of their housing; despite them never having remembered her. The blank paper had been a complete game-changer for her, ensuring she would always have somewhere to stay.

______________________________________________________________

New Orleans, Louisiana

June 25th, 1975

When Addie came home to her apartment that evening, she found a beautiful red rose set atop of a pile of neatly stacked papers on her small entryway table. On top of the documents, just beneath the rose, was an envelope with her name beautifully scrawled across its face in delicate cursive letters. Addie took the envelope, opening it to find a small note, scrawled in the same elegant penmanship.

Happy Anniversary Yours truly,

There was no signed name to be found but she wasn’t lost on who had left it for her to find. Addie took the stack of papers from the entry table and gasped. They were travel documents. Papers that were similar to the apartment paper in that she could see words and images pooling, shifting, and melting across the parchment; taking whatever form would be required for anyone to know she belonged wherever she might be or going. She had everything she needed; identification, tickets for transportation, destination, everything.

Addie pulled the papers close, holding them tightly to her chest; silent tears running from her eyes.

“Thank you…” She whispered.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 6

[bookswithsyd]

This Might Be My (and many others) 2024 Anime of the Year | Apothecary Diary

For once, I’m actually on time with an anime release. I have not been able to stay away The Apothecary Diaries, it is everywhere! From the looks of it, it’s one of the best anime’s releasing right now. Since it just wrapped up airing it’s LONG season 1, I wanted to talk about what could potentially be my favorite release of 2024.

There has been so many videos trying to break down why The Apothecary Diaries is such a good anime and why it’s doing so well. I think it breaks down to a few little things being done incredibly well.

(1) Maomao is a great main character. She is highly intelligent in her own right. She doesn’t need others to help her, but she will take the help because she recognizes that more people working on a task is better than her working solo. She is headstrong, but will help anyone in need. She never comes off as a Mary Sue character or someone who is not like other girls. Her disdain for some of those around her shows her as a realistic character, not someone doing it to just hate the pretty boy everyone else loves. She is so important but not in a you are the ONE type of way, she is a doctor, so of course she is needed. Everything just feels natural.

(2) The relationship between Jinshi and Maomao is actually funny. With both characters being so cat-like, their personalities mesh so well. Maomao is constantly fighting Jinshi in the beginning because she can’t get a read on this odd man following her. After they get to know each other through different tasks and events, she opens up to the thought of him, she no longer seems to push him away as much. Jinshi is intrigued with Maomao as she does behave differently. She hides the fact that she can read because she doesn’t want her kidnappers to get the extra money, she only wants to serve her three years and return to her father. The more he learns about her, the more he wants to help, protect, and get closer to her. He never tries to use his power to hurt or manipulate her, only to help her larger plans that already are happening to serve others, not herself.

(3) The storytelling is amazing. The Apothecary Diaries tells a story about a girl who lives in a world where she makes herself less attractive to avoid being harmed, a world where people in power can do whatever they want, and those who have the misfortune of being sold after are turned into prisoners’. Nobody in this show is fighting for power, trying to overthrow the already in place system. They are working with what they have, going about their lives to the best of their abilities. The story does an amazing job of humanizing everyone involved.

Showing a behind the scenes of what happens for a woman working in a brothel and those who are consorts for those in power gives a grim look at the lack of freedom they have over themselves. The The pleasure district puts high value on women with skills, but will destroy their value as soon as they get pregnant. The Emperor’s concubines constantly are entangled in a struggle of who is the favorite, who will get the most attention from the Emperor. They know that once they fail to provide a useful heir, they can be thrown out of the rear palace, their usefulness used up at the drop of the hat. The best part about this show is it shows off this hierarchy is blatant view, they never try to sugarcoat it, they never try to hide it.

Even with the bluntness of the show, they show that not everything has to be depressing and hopeless. Maomao finds many people to become close to and she helps so many within the palace. Raw emotion is shown contently, from desperation to be with the one you love, to grief over losing a child, this show balances the sorrow feelings with the bright feelings.

Narrowing in on why I love this show, I simply enjoy watching a psychotic female character. Maomao loves tasting poison, she constantly wants to make better medicine and help those around her. She goes completely unhinged the the chance to be around poison or make something new comes up. Seeing her cat-like personality come out as her getting actual cat features only plays on those traits even more. Her and Jinshi’s developing relationship is gorgeous. The way Maomao is beyond blind to his feelings for her, the way she is constantly getting into awkward situations that onlookers might misunderstand never fails to make my die laughing. The barely held together jealousy from Jinshi are some of my favorite scenes. One of his best traits is that no matter how badly he want’s to step in, he always respects Maomao enough to hold himself back. He never dismisses her because she is a woman or because she is of a lowly birth. He seems like a genuinely good guy who wants to help those he is put in charge of.

The characters who you are supposed to like, are all likable. There are a handful of characters that the show shapes into being suspicious or unlikable and they fulfilled their job as I slowly (or quickly) grew to dislike them. I feel like this show just does an amazing job at having so may characters show up that the watcher will come to care about. The entirety of the show feels like a slice-of-life show to me because everyone is so comforting to watch and even when someone is hurt, I know that they will be treated and people will be there for them.

I love this show so much. I was not lying when I said I might have found my 2024 anime of the year and it’s only March. This show just does so many things rights and it is just a pleasure to watch.

[canis-or-cannotis-lycaon]

TIMING: Last week LOCATION: Downtown PARTIES: Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f and Van (@vanoincidence SUMMARY: While walking down the street, Gael and Van run into each other. She tries to give him his $20 back. CONTENT WARNINGS: self harm (implied)

For a while longer, Van would pretend. Pretend that she was a normal girl in a normal town. She’d allow herself that much, because anything else was too damning to recognize as real. To exist plainly was the best thing she could do for herself at this point, especially when every sign was pointing to the unexplained phenomena. There were people who cast doubt on her, and in turn caused her to question her own existence within Wicked’s Rest. Who she was, and what she had to offer it were two completely different things, especially when looking over the fact that the town was weird as hell.

But none of that mattered right now! Because she had the lunch shift, which meant instead of leaving around three in the morning, she was hauling ass out of Sly Slice at just before seven. The sun was still pitched high behind some cloud coverage, but at least there wasn’t any rain. Van ventured down the street, board tucked beneath her arm. Her car was still out of commission which meant she was getting her steps in, and her calves toned. She barely registered Gael as she passed him, but she came to a sudden stop, jabbing her index finger through the air at him. “I have your twenty dollars.” She untucked it from her back pocket in an old wallet made of duct tape and shoved it at him. It was a little wrinkled and one of the sides was minorly ripped, but it was twenty bucks! “I’m paying you back, and you can’t say no.” She had planned to do so once seeing him again, but only because she had felt extremely guilty, and really, she didn’t feel as though she deserved any help. Especially not now when everything was falling apart.

—

Another day, another easygoing time at the University. Gael only had one class that day, which worked for him since he was rather looking forward to taking a leisurely walk home, maybe picking up some tasty snack and dropping by the bookstore on the way home, hoping to get a book for Ren or something, he hadn’t gotten that far yet.

And he didn’t have to. He was in no hurry, the weather was nice (though it smelled like rain to him) and to commemorate how he felt, Gael raised his arms above his head, stretched them and yawned. There were two things he was unaware of as he did this, the first of which being that he had a habit of sticking his tongue out nowadays when he yawned and the second was that he completely missed someone walking past him though a familiar scent mixed in with the humidity in the air.

It wasn’t until Gael had lowered his arms again that whoever it was apparently stopped and addressed him. He turned as a girl talked to him and his brown eyes fell on Van once more. “Oh hey!” He chirped before he could register that she was pushing a bill towards him. Understandably, his brow furrowed slightly as he glanced down at the money. “Wait, why can’t I say no?” He asked, quirking his brow at her but not actually taking the money yet. “It was a gift; you don’t have to pay me back.”

—

“Because, I don’t want to be indebted to you.” She had learned a lot about debt and what it could do to somebody through her parents. Maybe not in the way that Wicked’s Rest spoke about debts or anything of the like, but still. Van didn’t want to have the weight of Gael’s kindness sink her anymore than it already had. She couldn’t stop thinking about his kindness, which in itself warranted several therapy appointments in its own right, but now wasn’t the time to focus on that! 

“And because I want to.” Because she didn’t deserve his kindness, not really. Van didn’t particularly like adults butting their heads into her life, mostly because they always felt that they knew better. Maybe sometimes they did, but Van wasn’t sure that right now, they did. She wanted to separate herself from needy child and the adult she now was, even if she still felt like a toddler in too big of clothing; rushed to grow up for the sake of those around her. She hated the feeling, but still. “So just take it.” 

His brow still furrowed in evident confusion, Gael paused for a moment; how would he have reacted if the roles were reversed? He was taught that if you rejected a gift then it was insulting to whoever gave it to you. However, that was him and Van seemed vehement on returning it. Did she not need it? Was he presumptuous in thinking that she could’ve used it for that time she wasn’t getting paid at the pizza place? Or perhaps she was proud and thought that by giving her money, she thought he was taking pity on her?

— Regardless of the reason, after a small sigh escaped from him, Gael took the bill and he gave her an earnest expression. “Okay.” He said softly before he tilted his head slightly. “Have you been doing okay?” He asked, regarding her recent stint of eating hay, arguing with someone about Red Bull online and the dark circles under her eyes that gave his some competition.

—

Gael looked confused, and maybe Van would feel a little bad about it if she weren’t so confused by the world around her. She had spent so much time alone lately that it was getting harder to talk to people, even when she knew exactly what she wanted to say. But Gael was an adult, and obviously he would understand her intentions weren’t venomous, right? 

He finally took the twenty dollars from her and she breathed a sigh of relief. It did feel like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. “I’ve been… great.” That was a blatant lie, and anybody who actually paid attention knew it was bullshit, but she didn’t want to worry Gael. “I’m doing a lot better now that I don’t want hay.” That in itself was still a weird situation she still wasn’t sure how to explain, but she was just glad that the itch to eat every piece of hay she came across was no longer an issue. 

— “I’m glad that you’re doing better but…” Gael stuttered his sentence to a stop; should he pry into her business? She was kind of chaotic but that didn’t necessarily mean that she didn’t know what she was doing, right? He internally debated as he scanned the look on her face and the pause in her initial statement, trying to discern if her body language was accurately reflecting what was happening inside her. At last, Gael’s expression softened and he tried to alter his stance a little bit, making himself more casual and approachable, which wasn’t too hard considering he still looked like he walked out from the nearest thrift store with their second-best-looking shirt on. “You know, if there’s something bothering you that you can talk to me, right?” He asked, tilting his head as he gave her an earnest gaze. “I know we’ve only met a few times and I don’t mean to force myself onto whatever you have going on but I’m… here if you’d like to talk.”

—

“There’s nothing bothering me.” Her entire life was bothering her. Sleep was getting harder, but it was all she wanted to do. Every waking moment was agony, and the only reason she could even get through any of it was because of the games on her stupid phone. Van was surprised she hadn’t cracked the screen yet with the ferocity at which she held it during the most intense battles. But it wasn’t like Gael, or anyone else for that matter, needed to know what Van was going through. It was a waste of time. For them, and for her. 

“It’s fine. Nothing’s bothering me.” This conversation was lasting too long, she decided. She wanted to leave, to get back to what she was doing before this, but she couldn’t even remember what that was. Sucking in a breath, she decided to try and put in some effort. “Ren lives with you, right? She’s my friend. She draws really cool things.” Pushing the subject of somebody else would be better, right? Easier to evade conversation about herself. “She’s really cool.” Do you know she helped murder somebody? The question sat at the back of her mind. Had Ren told somebody? Were they all to be doomed?

—

She didn’t want to talk about it. Gael had spent enough time with kids her age to know when would be a good time to gently pry and when to let things go - most of the time, when he disengaged himself, some time would pass before they wanted to revisit it on their own. Maybe that would work here. Instead, Van brought up Ren and Gael pulled out his wallet to place the bill inside it with a small nod and a smile. “Yeah! I really admire her art, I think it’s amazing. She’s got a lot of skills. And now that you mention it, I remember her getting excited when I told her that you and I talked about worms briefly that one time; I just now learned that she likes gummy worms.” He filled what might’ve been an awkward silence before an equally-as-awkward separation of the two parties with a version of small talk he hoped would suffice for her. “Did you just get off work? You seemed in a hurry, am I keeping you?” He asked.

—

Gael seemed delighted to talk about Ren. That was a good thing, right? Van wasn’t sure what it was with this town and its adults trying to adopt wayward children, or why there were so many of them in the first place (not that she was admitting she was a child, but in the grand scheme of things, she might as well have been). “She’s really smart, too. Knows a lot about bugs.” Van never really knew what Ren was talking about when it came to bugs, but it didn’t matter. She was just happy that her friend seemed interested in something. 

“I got them for her once, now she says they are her favorite.” It often went missed by Van; the impact that she could have on another’s life. She oftentimes ignored it, favoring to wallow in a certain misery that could be cast upon hermits. “Work? No, I’m not…” She had worked today. That was right. The earlier shift. Rocky had taken her off of the night because she mixed up the marinara sauce with the ketchup. They weren’t even supposed to have ketchup, they were a pizza place. “I’m not… busy, or in a hurry. I’m just vibing.” Because that wasn’t necessarily a lie. “Walking and vibing, because…” She looked around them, “because I do that. I like the outdoors as much as anyone else.” Another lie. She hated being outside. 

—

“She is. I’m fond of her.” Gael inhaled and placed one of his hands in his pockets, the other hanging onto the strap of his messenger back in its familiar pattern. Van didn’t want to be here. That was evident by how quickly she made her way to… where she was going, or perhaps away from wherever she had come. She also very obviously had something on her mind, or maybe she was trying desperately to push something out of it. It was an assignment of uncertainties as Gael tried to parse through which ones it might’ve been but not confident enough in his assessment to ask her either way. He just knew that between the hay, her everlasting frustration at Janice and the tirade she went on about worms in the trees recently, she obviously had a lot on her mind. He wasn’t helping by keeping her trapped in a loop of small talk. “Sorry to bother you. Um… Can I give you a ride to wherever you were going?” Gael asked, pointing a finger over his shoulder. “My car’s not too far away and it’s really no trouble. I don’t mean to keep you.”

—

It impressed her, the speed at which people her age found themselves replacement parents. Couldn’t be here. Van thrived in her adult-less lifestyle. She was her own adult. She liked it that way. No more people telling her she couldn’t handle knives. 

Really, she was tired, and maybe she could have said nothing at all, but the words slipped from before she could stop them. “Why do you keep saying that? You’re not keeping me. I can stand here if I want to stand here.” She didn’t understand why Gael, an adult, was apologizing to her, another adult. He was just offering her nice things, and even if she felt like she didn’t deserve them, she didn’t quite understand why he was being so careful. 

“Did you adopt Ren or something?” She wondered if they were already related somehow. The question came out and she stared up at him expectantly, gaze sliding around him to his car that was truly parked only a few feet away. “I have my… I’m okay.” She blinked away her blurred vision. She didn’t want to be a nuisance. Gael was nice. She hadn’t even deserved the twenty dollars he had given her, but at least she had paid him back for it. 

—

“Yeah, but–” Gael hadn’t gotten much more than a few words through his sentence when the young adult sprang an unexpected question on him and he stammered into silence. Granted, he should’ve started expecting questions like that eventually but he wasn’t anticipating the speed at which they’d be received. “Not–” The professor had to choose his words carefully; one thing he learned in this town was that things tended to spread like wildfire. Gossip, names, information. He hadn’t asked how so many people seemed to know about his neurological issues, all at once, but that was probably because he just figured he told one or two people and they had communicated amongst themselves, telling each other what he was or wasn’t or had or didn’t.

He wondered how many people thought he was stupid. He wondered how obvious things were and he was just trying to look at things in a more nuanced way than they needed to be. “Not… officially.” The professor opted to say with no shortage of uncertainty in his voice. “But I, uh… Like you said, she lives with me and we’ve done some growth exercises together.” Even as he spoke, he couldn’t keep his expression from softening as he thought about the obstacles she was letting him help her overcome, how far she’d gotten. Gael knew what she liked, how she reacted when he put a heater in her room so he could keep the air conditioner on in other parts of the house. “It’s a work in progress, I think.” He added. This wasn’t taking what she wanted into consideration. Would she even want this? Perhaps she would rather be Emilio’s adopted daughter. “Why?” He found himself asking out of genuine curiosity, glancing over at Van.

—

“That sounds like therapy.” Van wasn’t sure what to think. About Gael, or about Ren– about the two of them living together in a way that would protect Ren. She thought about her friend’s comments about living conditions, about Nora and Cass’s too. She had a house. Why couldn’t Ren have stayed with her? Why had Ren chosen somebody else? They had killed together. Maybe that was why. Right. Van was… bad. Gael seemed good. The longer she looked at him, the more she understood, or thought she did. 

“That makes sense though. Ren is really cool.” Because she was, and even if Ren didn’t believe it herself, she knew the truth. When he asked why, she shrugged, shoulders reaching her lobes in an almost comical way. “Because she’s my friend and I want to make sure she’s good.” She switched her board so that it was beneath her left arm now. She was so tired. 

She looked towards Gael’s car again, deciding against letting him drive her home. “But I’m glad your living situation is working out.” Van wondered if Gael snored, and if it woke Ren up. Or if he made her toast for breakfast. She could make Ren toast for breakfast. She made great toast! She could make it for Nora and Cass, too. But no. They chose somewhere else. All of them did, even Thea with her smelly roommates. “I should probably go.” 

—

The small talk wasn’t working. Gael could read her body language; it was very typical of a teenager or young adult who was making exaggerated gestures and using vague language to dance around something they were really thinking. It wasn’t a caricature, per se, but a show that she didn’t want to talk about it. Perhaps she was feeling possessive about Ren, someone that Gael knew Ren liked from the way she discussed pizza and expressed her enthusiasm about the whole ‘van likes worms’ topic. Perhaps it was something else - he was willing to wager that it was something else, in fact - but regardless… He caught the glance to his car and her subsequent dismissal. Gael’s brow twitched slightly, at odds for a moment before ultimately nodding gently. “Okay. I didn–” He cut himself off from repeating himself a third time. “Good talk!” He offered her one more smile. “And next time, you don’t have to pay me back. It was a gift.” 

—

Gael was still being kind. Van wasn’t sure why. Shouldn’t he be reacting more like Emilio? Or literally any other adult she came into contact with? Sure, that was sort of on her and her inability to let anyone over the age of thirty in, but it wasn’t like it was a huge problem. She didn’t even really know the guy in front of her, but he was insisting that she didn’t need to pay him back. 

“Why not?” Her voice hardened slightly, anxiety and exhaustion creating something awful out of her tone. She rubbed her eyes and took a small step back. She could feel the energy beneath her skin, could feel it rippling– now that she was aware of it, it was harder to think that it was something else. Magic, Milo had told her. It’s magic. 

“And why are you always so nice? It’s…” nice, Van wanted to say, but instead venom injected itself into her comment and she was crossing her arms over her chest as she puffed it out, trying to seem bigger than she actually was– trying to get the anxiety off of her mind as she watched Gael intently. “Not really necessary.” 

—

The professor couldn’t keep his head from tilting at her sharp question, like a dog hearing a tone and not knowing what it was. The main difference was that Gael did know what it was. She was getting defensive about the whole ‘gift’ thing. He wanted to tell her that it was just twenty dollars; literally not that big of a deal, but then again, he could’ve told himself that too. Was she really that fiercely independent or was this stemming from something else, an ache in the tooth causing pain to the rest of the body? Then she asked about why he was so nice. Gael had gotten that question a few times and he wondered if one day he should have a catch-all answer, even if he had one. Being nice just felt nice. “Sorry,” He ended up apologizing instead, his tone still light and he couldn’t keep a confused look from flitting onto his face briefly. “Is it unsettling? I can be meaner to you if you’d like… whippersnapper.” 

—

Instead of becoming frustrated with her question, Gael apologized, because of course he did. In another life, Van would have found it disarming. In this one, she found it annoying. This town and its adults had a penchant for trying to reach out to the youth to steer them in the right direction, and she’d seen it in Gael. Hell, Ren was a perfect example of it. But Ren deserved that, didn’t she? To have someone to look up to? It sure as hell wasn’t going to be her, or any of the other allgoods. None of them were equipped to do anything than mend each other. 

He was still trying and Van’s frustration grew. She didn’t want him to be nice. It was a twenty dollar bill to him, but to her, it collapsed the idea that Van could take care of herself. That despite all of the shit that had been thrown at her, she could do it! And here was Gael, taking in her friend that had lived in a shed, and she was upset over twenty dollars? It didn’t make any sense, and if she were thinking logically, she would know that Gael’s confusion was understandable. But nothing logical had happened to Vanessa Zhou in her twenty years of living. It was like she was in an after school special. 

“It’s not funny.” Because it wasn’t. Van was ensnared in so much self-hatred that it was impossible to see Gael as somebody who was just passing by. Instead, she associated him with the offer he had made her, and the way he had taken Ren in. He wanted to be somebody to people, but she couldn’t receive that, not from him. She took another step back, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw her magic began to take corporeal form. Like outside of the mines, the nearest stop sign began to melt into a nearby shrub, the liquid slipping easily over the sidewalk. It was a manifestation of her anxieties and fears, and it would always be there, waiting in the wings.

—

He obviously still wasn’t understanding something and the confusion that had flitted on and off his face came back around to stay this time. What had he done to make her so upset? Or even worse, what had gone so wrong in her life that she felt the need to lash out at other people? Gael had dealt with a handful of difficult students before, relinquishing himself to doing what he could for them while also offering to help them find resources that could help them far more professionally and efficiently than himself. That being said, it pained him that he couldn’t help them all, including right now. The professor wasn’t being condescending, he didn’t think but maybe that’s the impression she got? Gael needed to try yet another approach. Or, even better, maybe he should’ve just left her alone since that was what she wanted and let her cool down. He exhaled, an unfamiliar sense of defeat tingling his fingers. Or maybe that was a sound that suddenly hit his sensitive ears, causing him to flinch instinctively. Metal clanged to the ground. Tensing slightly, Gael readied himself to spring into action. Was it an incoming car? Was it a sign falling on the pavement? He turned, worried for wherever the source was and if anyone was in immediate danger. Then he saw the bubbling liquid on the sidewalk, smoking as it was drizzled on a shrub, burning the leaves. “What the hell?” He asked aloud as his eyes danced on the silver, red and white colors that all melted together, swirling as it oozed along the sidewalk on the incline the pavement was placed over. He took a step towards Van, placing himself between the metal and her on some off-chance that whatever did that was close by. “What happened?” He asked, looking over at her briefly before glancing around again.

—

Van looked towards where Gael had indicated the disturbance had taken place. The colors melded together, creating something poetic out of the caution sign. How would people know to stop now? Should she report what happened? How would she even do that? They’d probably assume she stole the sign to put up on her wall or something. Not that that wasn’t something she wouldn’t do, but it wasn’t like any of it would make sense even if she did report it. 

She turned her attention back to Gael who looked extremely confused, gaze flickering over the melting metals, and then back to her. Van shook her head. Before, she would deny it– tell him, no, beg him to believe that she hadn’t been the one to do this, even though deep down she knew it was her. She wasn’t sure if she could admit to it here and now, because the confession died at the back of her throat as soon as she opened her mouth to speak. She wanted him to stop caring, wanted everyone to stop caring because it never mattered. 

“I don’t– I don’t know.” The lie tasted like acid on her tongue. She swallowed it and clenched her jaw. “This– it happens–” it follows me, she wanted to continue, “in this town.” She couldn’t tell him, even if she wanted to scare him away. Van took a step away from Gael. Another stop sign had begun to melt and she felt her chest swell, panic skittering from all sides. She couldn’t control this, and it was only– she could see the bumper of Gael’s car begin to give way to the magic. She slapped her hands against her ears, sinking to the ground. “Stop, stop, stop–” 

—

He asked her what happened but instead of getting an answer or even a vague implication, Van instead said the simple, yet terrifying phrase that didn’t stop the hair on the back of Gael’s neck from standing at attention: I don’t know. As she did, there was another clang of a sign being partially melted, almost as though it were turned into watercolors on the canvas of the three-dimensional space that they occupied. He turned his head  at the sharpness of the sound again, an involuntary movement as it rattled in his sensitive ears but he didn’t allow himself to become distracted for longer than the reactionary few seconds. Van dropped into the pavement with her hands over her ears and Gael glanced around for a moment, his expression a mixture of concern and fear, but not for him. Licking his lower lip, he also slowly, carefully lowered himself until he was to a crouch in front of her and he kept his dark eyes on hers intently. With a patience. She was the only thing that mattered right now. “Van– Van, it’s okay.” He tried to encourage, not sure whether or not to establish contact - he didn’t want to hurt her, scare her or exacerbate matters but he wasn’t about to just get up and leave. He also wasn’t sure who he should’ve called for help; this was admittedly very out of his wheelhouse but he was nothing if not stubborn and willing to help as best as he could to minimize situations. “Yeah, it happens.” He nodded in agreement, trying to find something to connect with her. “Things happen. Things that you can’t control.” He wasn’t sure if she was the one doing this but at this point, Gael wasn’t sure who he was talking more about. “I’ve done it, too. Things I can’t control” He said quietly but making sure he was still firm enough for her to hear; he drew upon how his father would talk to him when he was scared, the steady voice in the storm of emotion. “But it’s okay. Things happen that we can’t control but it’ll be okay.”

—

Gael was next to her now as an unwanted presence, but a calming one all the same. She couldn’t shake that thought, no matter how hard she tried. Van gulped in air, the panic skittering across her like a second skin; something she wore no matter how badly she wanted to peel it away. She tried to listen to him, and despite the minor annoyance he brought with him and his caring attitude, she did want to be okay. She had wanted to scare him, but only momentarily. Had wanted to see the fear reach his eyes and decide that it was enough, that she wasn’t worth hanging around for, because wasn’t that what everyone decided about her, once they saw it? Nora was different. Nora was her friend. Gael was… Gael. He had given her twenty bucks and advice on what and what not to eat, but he was looking after Ren, wasn’t he? 

Things that you can’t control. 

Even if Van couldn’t control this, wasn’t it her fault that it was happening? Milo had been sure that she had magic that day in the common, and had only further pressed the topic during their conversation online. She wanted to believe that somewhere down the line, she could take control of this, but when would that be? Then Gael admitted he’d done things, too, and it took her a moment to understand his words. She wasn’t sure she could believe that, but in this town, wasn’t anything possible? Her best friend turned into a bear and had grown crystals out of her skin, even if those weren’t there anymore. She swallowed more air, hiccuping. Tears streamed down her face and she quickly rubbed them away. She didn’t want to be like this, sinking into the pavement, begging for people to leave. She’d never liked herself like this. 

She tried to focus on Gael’s gentle gaze and his reassurances. Even if they didn’t do much for her actual anxiety, she had noticed that the things around them stopped melting. That was progress, wasn’t it? “Okay.” Van rubbed the back of her hand against her face and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment longer, willing him to disappear so that she wouldn’t have to settle into the embarrassment of yet another person seeing her cry. How fucking pathetic was she? “It’ll be okay.” Another lie, but this time for herself. She wasn’t sure she could believe Gael, but a certain curiosity did burrow itself into her; what exactly had he done? What was he capable of, and was Ren in danger?

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO NEFE COSMIA, MUU KUSUNOKI. 🌓

ꕥ  — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: mary age: 20+ pronouns: he/she ooc contact: memelt_snail @ twitter other characters in xc: tiphereth

ꕥ  — IC INFORMATION;

name: muu kusunoki age: 16 pronouns: she / he series: milgram canon point: at the second trial, up to date content warnings: bullying, murder, suicidal ideation, suicide baiting.

personality: pain, pain, go away — mantra, repeat :  until my heart breaks. ( it still hurts. )

an immature mirror-image in the shape of a young girl, wearing a theatre-goer's mask that she deems appropriate for the current situation — simple-minded, someone who craves love and attention no matter the cost. easy to scare to obedience … to easy to validate to overconfidence, a scale too delicate to tip over to one edge or another, an extreme waiting for it's turn.

infant queen bee — blunt, honest, naive. fed so much ideological honey that she burst into the creature she is now. a girl who was spoiled ever since the day she was born who grew up into an entitled person who knows nothing more beyond getting what she wants. an unfortunate worldview coddled by her peers and family.

and here :  a note of importance. muu can't stand— hates pain.

any pain : emotional, physical. she'll bury herself deep in denial, she'll do anything as long as it stops and everything goes back to her perception of normal, as shattered as it may be. push down the agony, lest you feel it ever again. bury it deep, until you forget about how much it hurt that day. control, control, release — desperately safe, another's ego is her shield.

the true core hidden behind mille-layers of false cream. the loved will meet no harm and instead be showered in love : what's the point in being genuine, then? even if this chrysalis means tossing

people away or giving in to impulse … what comes above all is herself. ——— 'all i have to do is gain your favour, right? i'm sorry, i said i was sorry.' repeat, recite : it's not my fault. perhaps, one day, you'll believe.

something your muse struggles with: impulsive and emotional, to the point of extremes. ( + whiny )

your muse’s greatest strength: obedient, listens to what she's told — even if there's a complaint, here and there. she's also generous … in her own way? most likely. 

history / background:

papa is kind, mama generous.  i want to be like them, one day.

a silver spoon on her tongue isn't a fair replacement for the warmth of a cradle. muu may have it all but one : the presence of those that she needed most an empty canvas through her youth. warmth was a foreign idea, only words half-meant and half-said.

gifts and allowance see her doorstep more than her parents ever did. it's not like they didn't love her, it's just that there was no time.

——— so, tell me :  why?

school was full of scary people  —  words that tasted like the bitter cold medicine she swallowed one humid summer night. foreigner, cry the stares of her classmates. prideful, vain, stupid-looking.

to her, companionship was considered a world so unreal. it is a strange, foreign place that she never viewed as something material, but high-school was fast to prove that it is. her classmates — they hover over her like drunk bees on ripened fruit :  you use me, i use you. isn't it great - a benefactory relationship?

this wasn't always the case. once, there was rei — a girl who sat next to her in class, a girl who saw her as she is and not for the gifts and money and unusual features. … was she genuine? those days were warm, like the morning sun — nostalgic, quiet paradise where it was only rei and muu tailing at her like a lost, pathetic puppy. that was the only thing she was sure of. then, the swarm comes. the girls that would stare at rei with disdain in their eyes approach her with honeyed smiles. the temptation of sickly-sweet royal jelly offered up begs for her to take it ; a fleeting bite. then, she's falling.

——— but, maybe…

in hushed tones, they whisper to her of what friendship truly is :  give, then we'll give back to you. companionship like this is friendship. it's not exploitation if anyone benefits, don't you agree? ' what rei and i did was nothing, then? ' they insist so. if they say so, it must be right.

rei sees her laughing with them and a flash of hurt and worry is in her eyes. her— rei's expression is far from placid as she approaches her and talks to her again : a warning, she says. muu dismissed her with a scoff. she's just jealous of her new friends. is that it? that's it. she hates her, she hates her being happy. fine, she'll forget about her and everything, then.

——— hey, tell me.

one day, the world as she knew it changed. her friends that would be by her side are now against her. why? what did she do? she did nothing wrong — she has never done something wrong, she's never laid a hand on anyone else, all she did was speak and give gifts and look pretty. and yet, she apologises. they keep pushing her down, even as she begs for them to step. it's lonely. no more warmth.

the honey has dried up, and the half-born queen is starving. she sees rei and approaches her with an apology-- ——— even if… 

' please rethink this, please forgive me — i'm sorry, i said i am! ' ' why are you looking away — i thought we were… friends? we're friends. ' ' you should accept that i'm sorry — then, i'll accept that you are, too. why? ' the way rei casts her gaze towards her was so cold. there was no regret on her features, only deafening silence. is this how it feels, to be a living corpse? …at least it will be over, soon.

lately, she always considered herself to be one foot in the grave. then, the world she knew as changed became shattered, the very moment rei ripped her arm away from her shaking hands. her cries of help and pity fell on deafened ears — ' hey, rei… look. please, don't let go… ' she begged for her to stop, as she brought out the box cutter from her pocket. her words felt like bile on her throat. sunset's fading light downcast. ' do you really not care for me? fine, i'll— you know what i want to do, right? why are you going away? fine, i'll stab myself. i'll stab myself right now… i mean it, you did this. '

( the way you look at me. it's so cold, now. … i can't take it, please— look at me. look at me! )

her body, her instincts — at that very moment, they were nothing more but a desperate mechanism. she saw nothing but red, as she lunged towards rei with a desperate scream. an already fragile hold on her emotions made more apparent as she lashes out — that very same boxcutter that she used to threaten herself with was now plunged into the other's torso.

when she came to, she was breathing heavily, clutching her weapon now drenched in blood. desperation and rage were now brushed over : replaced by pure regret and agony. she would say that she's sorry, but perhaps she was not? …rei was the one that hurt her first. that's it. it's simply … revenge. a fitting punishment for a girl who always acted like the heroine.

i'll decorate your corpse with flowers and egotism. was this her favourite — white lillies?

in the coming days, rumors start to circulate around the school : ' ah, i've heard that kusunoki killed someone. that poverty-stricken girl. ' ' … oh? that's horrifying, actually. it's good that we stayed away. ' ' i knew that she was volatile from the very start! '

when a monarch starts to become reprehensible, what is left to do other than to get rid of her?

…

she wakes up in a plane so frightening, sterile and cold surrounded by others like her: murderers. who wouldn't be frightened in a situation like this? yet, she was forgiven.

then whispers began to start. it wasn't your fault, you poor thing. was it painful? ( … that's right. it's not my fault. it was never my fault in the first place, i'm faultless. )

lies layered on like her favourite dessert. a sweet cream to protect her fragile heart already at the risk of breaking, elevated to a mask of non-concern. her misery will eat her alive, if she didn't.

—

sometimes, i still see her in my dreams… i still see rei. i would never forget her name, you know. there's the way she stares at me. standing in the distance. drenched in stagnant water. watching. maybe she's angry. she haunts me — bound to me and my fate, herself and her image.

powers / abilities: n/a

inherent abilities: n/a

items / weapons:

an orange boxcutter that almost appears yellow in the sunlight. a reminder of torment and guilt. her already present discomfort with sharp objects made stronger by the memory.

starting ability: n/a

starting item: the boxcutter. 😀 she'll probably throw it in a ditch right away, but you know.

extra: you made it. happy birthday!

everything is subjective and prone to change. as is the nature of milgram. t3 & more could change what i have written down to the foundation — guesswork is fun. nothing is "complete" until you make it so.

summertime in the north hemisphere is ending soon, it's slightly nostalgic, from the smell of fresh grass and the warm light of sunset … it's a feeling i wanted to portray with this application. a large amount of what i wrote is personal theory crafted by personal feeling. i'm sorry. ( pien ↑↑ )

" isn't friendship supposed to be all about letting them do what they want? it's only beneficial for each other, isn't it? " tread with caution with this one.

16 year olds are scary creatures. i'm scared, i'm scared.

discord id: lovemedont

[yeagerinc]

(I was originally going to make this a long Twitter thread but people are talking about there being a tweet limit now? So I’m just posting it here and linking it in a tweet. That's why it's in small tweet sized segments.)

Let me start by saying that I am a mostly-white CIS gender male hetero in his mid 30s. Let that color how you feel about my words however much or as little as you wish. Thats up to you.

TW: Harry Potter

Let me start by saying fuck JK. I can’t imagine winning the lottery of life and getting to be the creative mind behind a fictional world that shapes and enriches the lives of a generation, only to take that power and wield it for hate and bigotry. She deserves to have her works and name forgotten and to have only the void to speak her words into.

And with that in mind Harry Potter as a franchise is dead to me. I don’t want to play that game. I don’t want to rewatch the movies. I don’t want to read her books.

Let me be clear this is not a big ask of me. Harry Potter was never more than a passing fancy of mine from time to time growing up. Don’t give me too much credit. I don’t know that I’d be as easily able to divorce myself from something like Final Fantasy or Sonic the Hedgehog or StarGate.

I don’t think you should play the new HP game. I don’t think you should buy it. I don’t think you should stream it. Even if you try to offset that by donating to Trans causes you’re still promoting the game and could encourage others to buy it by showing it off. Funding a fire department is nobel, but don’t do it in a way that fuels the fire in the process.

There are plenty of people who don’t care. They buy the game and support JK BECAUSE of her anti trans stance. Fuck those people. I hope their follower counts crater their names forgotten. I’m sure a lot of you agree with me so far.

But what we hope isn’t happening. JK is still making bank. The hateful streamers are bolstered. The game is selling remarkably well. This is frustrating. Aggravating. Infuriating. In the face of these we feel helpless. We get angry. And unfortunately we lash out.

I have control issues I have to keep in check. I know the feeling of something big or small not being as I wish it to be. I often battle that white hot rage. Losing my absolute shit over things is something I actively have to talk myself out of more often than I like to admit.

And let me tell you. Not once has letting that anger get the best of me ever made things better. Not once did it fix the problem. Not once did it change things to be better. At best it does nothing. At worst it almost cost me my closest friends.

That’s the reaction I’ve seen to the new HP game. Steamers hate raided. Death threats. Verbally harassed and demonized. Treated not like people but like soulless heartless monsters to be destroyed. This is wrong and fixes nothing. It’s just us letting our darker emotions lash out without restraint.

No hearts are changed. No minds are changed. Trans people are not made more safe by these actions. I don’t think we expect these actions to do any of that but when you scream in rage “you are with us or against us” people rarely choose with you and are often pushed to against you. These actions do harm to our own cause.

You can’t tell me that a streamer hoping to raise money for Trans charities by playing this game is the same as the ones who proudly write “TERF” on their chest. I’ve already made it clear that I don’t think that idea is a good one. But you can’t tell me someone whose heart is in the right place deserves hate because you don’t agree with their methods.

And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it is better to raise money off this game for a good cause. Maybe that will do more good. I honestly don’t think so but how the hell can I be so sure? How can I run out and try to police the internet using my hate as a weapon over something that kind hearts can disagree on?

Now if you want to unfollow these steamers, stop supporting them, swear off their content, you are 100% justified in doing so. They are not owed your support if they make decisions that are counter to your values, even if their heart is in the right place. Let them see the consequences of their choice in viewer and follower count.

That is far more likely to get them to stop and rethink about what they are doing. But attacking them? At best they may stop making content because they can’t emotionally deal with backlash. At worst you’ve made them feel like your enemy. And people crave community. And the TERFS will welcome them with open arms.

But I get it. I’m sure we all hoped that any streamer who played this game would see their viewer count plummet and they’d get the message and change and the game would flop and JK would watch another part of her empire crumble as a result of her words and actions. That didn’t happen and we, understandably, got mad. But don’t let your anger make things worse.

TLDR: Fuck JK. Fuck HP. Fuck that game. But don’t attack people for playing it. Just unfollow.

[amphxtrite]

cedric diggory x fem!reader

warnings: smut, alludes to innocence kink, experienced cedric and first time reader, oral (both male and female receiving), praise kink, daddy kink, use of pet names, alcohol, fluff at the end.

do not read if you are uncomfortable.

summary: the reader has never been with anyone when she transfers to Hogwarts for her last year, what happens when a party, fire whisky and a game of ‘never have I ever’ push her to ask the infamous playboy how to love?

a/n: hey everyone, it’s been a while! bear with me this ones still being edited but I finally finished it so here you go!

hope you enjoy!

———————————————————————————

Sunlight streams from a window into Cedric’s eyes, slowly waking him from his slumber to throw a stabbing headache at him, a consequence for his activities the previous night. Sitting up and glancing around the room that was not his, the blue and gold accents decorating the four posters made it obvious which dorm he was in, and glancing down at the mess of black hair beside him, who’s was it?

“Fuck, not again.” Cedric murmurs, standing and tugging on his trousers and buttoning up his shirt, walking out the doors as the girl in the bed begins to stir.

After winning the Triwizard tournament Cedric had become almost a celebrity in the wizard world. He was handsome, smart, and now a champion of the deadliest competitions in the world. He gave Gilderoy Lockhart a run for his money at Witch Weekly’s Most Charming smile. The fame was everything he wanted and more, and with the girls practically throwing themselves at him, it wasn’t long before he became a notorious play-boy too, rumoured to give the best anyone ever had, before disappearing the next morning.

Sitting down at the hufflepuff table, next to his mates, Cedric reaches across the table and grabs an apple from a basket in the centre of the table and takes a bite, nibbling slowly as a headache pounds through his head.

“Hello there Diggory.” A voice laughs, dropping down beside the hufflepuff. Cedric turns his head to see Zacharius staring at him with an eyebrow cocked.

“Y-Yeah, what’s up Smith?” Cedric sighs, turning his head and massaging his forehead.

“Oh don’t tell me you were drinking again cap’n!” Zacharius groans, taking a swig of milk from his cup. “Doesn’t matter.” Cedric shrugs, shaking his head.

“We’ve got a game today!” The blonde exclaims, poking Cedric in the head.

“And we’ve got it! I’m only a little hungover.” Cedric smirks, pushing Zach back with his elbow.

Zach rolls his eyes and pulls his wand out of his pocket, “this should clear your head a bit.” He states, tapping the tip to Cedric’s forehead and muttering a soft spell.

Cedric smirks, instantly feeling the cool feeling of the drink’s impact being brushed away.

“Thanks mate.” He sighs.

“No problem Ced, now let’s get down to the pitch captain, we’ve got a match to win yeah?” Zach laughs, grabbing a slice of toast.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Cedric grins, standing and walking out of the cafeteria with Smith beside him.

“Wake up sleeping beauty!” The giggle and squeal of your new roommate wakes you, followed by a pillow to your face.

“Ah- Brinley!” You groan, sitting up immediately, and grabbing the pillow before she tries to throw it again. “Today’s tour day and then a surprise!” Brinley laughs in a song-like voice.

“W-What time is it?” You sigh, bringing your hand to your eyes and rubbing away the sleepiness.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s the weekend and Hogwarts is huge!” Brinley smiles, falling onto her own four-poster and closing her curtains.

“Get changed y/n, then the tour will commence!” She declares like a quidditch commentator.

“I got it, I got it.” You call out, throwing your covers off of you and quickly getting changed, eyes still barely opened as you pull a sweater over your body and call out to Brinley.

“Brin ‘m ready.” You sigh, standing up from your mattress and tucking your wand into your pocket.

“Finally, c’mon!” The brunette cheers, throwing back her curtains and grabbing your hand to lead you out of the dorm and out the common room.

You spent the rest of the day running from class to class, from courtyard to ‘special corridors.’ Seriously, where did this girl get all her energy from?

“Oh and there are some house ghosts! Oh- over here is the Charms classroom!” Brinley continues, tugging harder on your arm and stopping abruptly.

“Brinley what the-”

You’re cut off by Brinley’s sigh of content and legs practically melting beneath her.

“Look.” She smiles in an almost dream-like voice.

Your eyebrows furrow but you follow your gaze over to a group of boys in yellow robes, laughing and shoving each other about, you note the design as quidditch uniforms, they must be a team. You glance back over at the awe-struck girl to see her smirking with her finger in her lip.

“Cedric Diggory, tall brunette with the perfect smile.” Brinley giggles, nodding at the boy in the centre. “Playboy, school golden boy, Hogwarts champion…” She sighs, leaning against you.

“He’s absolutely stunning. There’s a rumor he can get a girl’s knickers off minutes after he pulls them away.” She breathes with glee, undressing the brunette with her eyes. You smirk at her and find your gaze following the hufflepuff’s frame.

Your eyes trail up with chest, taking in his toned shoulders and strong arms before admiring his long digits underneath his tight fitting gloves, how they flex and stretch as he walks.

Finally your eyes fixate on his face. Piercing grey eyes that seemed to stay serious even while he was smiling, the colour of storm clouds over a forest, calm but strong.

Moving downwards you trace down his defined jawline and cheekbones, sure to have anyone crawling on their knees for him. Soft pink lips almost gave the illusion he was innocent, but as soon as they pulled up to reveal a smirk, you could tell he was experienced, daring, the kind of person up for any kind of challenge, even if it meant jumping in harm’s way.

It was a face everyone in the wizarding world grew to know, the handsome hufflepuff that had not only survived, but won the triwizard tournament, he’d managed to get the entire world swooning for him.

“Hey there captain, where are you heading?” Brinley calls to Cedric once he’s close enough to hear.

“Back to the common room, can I help you sunshine?” Cedric murmurs, stopping for a moment.

“I’d like you to meet my new friend, Ceddy, this is y/n.” Brinley smiles, taking your hand and pushing you forwards.

“Well hello there y/n, say that’s a pretty name.” Cedric smirks, reaching out and taking your hand.

“O-Oh, thank you.” You smile, shaking his hand gently as he raises your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to them.

“What do you say we get away?”

“We just met Diggory, don't get cocky.” You laugh, watching his smirk grow.

“Oh, so the kitten has claws?” Cedric teases at your sudden change in tone.

You blush, and Cedric chuckles softly. “No worries, nice to meet you kitten.” Cedric nods, walking off with the rest of his team.

You’re frozen for a moment, feeling the heat grow in your face and in between your legs, did that really just happen? You blink, turning back to Brinley who has a huge grin on her lips.

“Oh I can see this…” She murmurs, glancing back and forth at you and the hufflepuff.

“Didn’t you just say you like him?” You laugh, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I said he’s hot, not that I like him, there’s a difference, kitten.” She smirks smugly, putting emphasis on your new nickname.

“Haha sunshine, any chance we could go get something to eat? I’m starved.”

“Why would you need something to eat when there’s a full course meal right ahead?” She jokes, winking at you with a playful smirk.

You roll your eyes and she slaps you gently on the shoulder.

“Hey! I’m teasing, come on it’s almost lunch anyways.” Brinley giggles, grabbing your arm once again. “After lunch I’ll show you the pitch, I have a feeling you’ll love your surprise.”

Lunch is quick and uneventful, you manage to sit down long enough to grab a sandwich, but as Brinley glances around at a clock her eyes widen and she takes your hand.

“On second thought lunch can wait, your surprise starts in ten minutes and we need to get good seats!” She laughs apologetically, placing a sandwich into her mouth as she pulls you away, luckily with yours still in hand.

“Let me guess, the surprise is a quidditch game?” You question, catching up to Brinely and walking by her side.

“You got me, just thought it would be nice for your first day.” She shrugs, walking out the door of the castle and starting across a grassy field.

“Sounds fun, who’s playing?” You ask.

“Hufflepuff, obviously, and Ravenclaw, bound to be an exciting one.” Brinley squeals, swinging her arms back and forth. “Oh?” You add.

“Ever since Cedric and Cho broke up their games have been pretty interesting.” She elaborates with an awkward smile. “Some people say they still sleep together, but everyone knows it’s because they both get hot and bothered when they’re drunk in the same room.” Brinley hints, raising both of her eyebrows.

“They sound… serious?” You joke half-heartedly as the brunette beside you breaks into a fit of laughter. “Both of them have made it crystal clear they do not want to be together, both of ‘em seem to be impossible to tie down.” Brinley giggles, catching her breath to calm herself before the two of you get to the stadium. “Exciting.” You shrug, beginning to climb a flight of stairs up to the seating area with Brinley close behind you.

“Oh that’s Hogwarts for you.” She sighs playfully, pushing you further up and forwards to find a seat.

“Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you!” Madame Hooch calls to the two teams facing off at the centre of the pitch, every player nods to the referee and she throws the quaffle up into the air, signalling the beginning of the game.

“Here it goes.” Brinley smiles excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat.

You watch in awe as the chasers fly skillfully across the pitch, passing the quaffle with speed and perfect aim, only for it to be cut short by another player who then goes zooming in the other direction. The quaffle is in possession of hufflepuff, then is stolen by ravenclaw but taken back again. Every moment is filled with suspense and when Ravenclaw scores the first goal the section of the stadium filled with blue goes wild. Up above the beater’s are hitting bludgers back and forth, defending their teammates before sending it off to the other side again. Their movements are smooth and strong, hitting every swing on the dot. The keeper’s are positioned defencefully at each end of the stadium, using tactics to save the quaffle you had never seen before. They maneuvered themselves back and forth quickly and forcefully, even taking quaffles right in the stomach to stop them. You winced more than once trying to watch the Keeper’s save each goal.

Finally, up above were the seeker’s flying up, down and around the pitch in full alert for the snitch, both Cedric and Cho had their goggles pulled down over their eyes and their heads snapping back and forth every second. You could see the competitive nature in Cho with her teeth gritting everytime Cedric dove a little too quickly or turned to try and trick her. If Cedric was having fun with this he wasn’t showing it. His lips remained sealed in a tight line and by the looks of it his jaw was clenched, both of the seeker’s hair were blowing behind them even though there was almost no wind, almost blurs compared to the other player’s a little ways below. A yellow blur here and a blue blur there was all you could see, then they would stop, scan for a moment and wait. You nibbled on your bottom lip as the scores began to grow, each team displayed new tactics the other didn’t know and soon Ravenclaw was leading 170-130. Even the golden snitch wouldn’t be enough to help them win, and you could tell there was some slight hesitation on Cedric’s face as he kept scanning.

As if he knew you were staring, Cedric’s head moved for a moment, glancing down over in the direction you were sitting in and among the sea of people, he found you. Neither you or Brinley were wearing any house colours other than the colours blue and yellow painted across both of your cheeks, guess you couldn’t make a decision, he chuckles, flying a little closer to the booth you’re sitting in, and in a teasing manner he removes the outer jacket of his quidditch uniform and drops in down, right onto your lap.

“Hold onto that for me won’t you kitten? It’s getting rather hot.” He shouts, pushing back his slightly matted brown hair and throwing a wink your way. He watches you nod bashfully, before chuckling and turning back to the game. Teasing you was so fun, how could he resist.

Turning back for a moment he catches Brinley nudging you gently with her elbow and your eyes roll as your cheeks go a light shade of pink.

He grins, but then sees it, the score has changed in his favour and as his smirk rises, he dives.

Your eyes widen as you watch Cedric plummet towards the ground. Did he spot it? Did he see the golden snitch? Cho seems to notice this too and begins plummeting down in Cedric’s direction from the other side of the stadium. You lean over the edge of the railing with Cedric’s uniform still in your arms, eyes zipping about trying to find the familiar flash of gold when, out of nowhere, Cedric looks up, and pulls the front of his broom forwards and skywards again. A loud uproar erupts from the crowd at the stunt Cedric manages to pull, leaving Cho gritting her teeth harder and stopping for a moment right at the ground before pulling up again.

Up above where Cedric was heading, you saw it. The golden snitch flutters above the stadium moving from left to right, up and down. You look over at the scoreboard and your mouth drops. 170-150, Cedric had spotted the snitch at the perfect time right as he had distracted Cho into thinking he was diving for it. You’re sitting on the edge of your seat as the chase begins. By now the sky was already changing colours, the bright azure had faded into a mix of baby blue and pink, creating a very serene backdrop for such a heart-racing chase. The snitch was as mischievous as ever, dropping down, moving to the side, up and then running away with Cedric right behind, his fingers just grazing the back of the shining snitch before losing touch again.

Cho was beginning to catch up and her gritting teeth changed into a smirk as she began to tail Cedric. Her arm raises and she begins to push herself further, almost neck and neck with the hufflepuff when the snitch jumps up suddenly, pausing for a moment as if to watch the two seekers practically leave it behind.

To it’s dismay however, a hand wraps around it at the last moment and grips it tight. The whistle is blown and every stand erupts in cheer.

Cedric sat on his broom, panting and throwing his fist, containing the snitch up into the air over and over again. A huge grin is plastered on his face as he cheers in victory and his team swarms him and starts patting each other on the back. The group of seven touch down and cheer in unison as the stands begin cheering a mix of “hufflepuff” and “Cedric” You smile, watching the seeker high five his team mates and push back his hair once again.

You don’t even realize you’re clutching his quidditch robe right against your chest until the scent wafts up into your nose and your eyes slowly drift downwards.

At first all you can smell is faint hints of citrus lingering for a moment, but taking a deep breath the soft but powerful mix of musk and sandalwood cologne fills your senses, you smile. The earthy cologne suited Cedric. Glancing around, there seemed to be no eyes on you, so you raise the fabric closer to your nose and get hit full force by the sweet aroma. It was just strong enough to make your knees go weak, but not enough to be overpowering, perfect. You smile to yourself, but feel a pair of eyes looking at you. Looking down at the pitch again, your eyes meet a pair of sharp gray ones and you know he has caught you. Cedric smirks tracing his tongue over his teeth before turning and walking into the changeroom.

“Hufflepuff won so you know what that means!” Brinley squeals, taking your hand gently and helping you stand. “What?”

“Party in the common room tonight dummy, come on!” She exclaims, tugging you off again.

“But the ro-” You interject.

“You can give it to him at the party, now hurry up!” Brinley cheers, cutting you off and running with you in tow back to the castle.

By the time Cedric and the rest of the hufflepuff team reached the common room, the area was already filled with dancing students, drinks and people making out left and right. Cheers and applause went up for a moment as the winning team stepped into the busy room, before stopping again so the partying could continue.

Your eyes had been scanning the entrance ever since you stepped in, so as soon as you saw the familiar gray eyes and brown hair you stood to get to him but Brinley, already a couple fire whiskeys in, grabbed your hand.

“Don’t h-he’s gonna go take a shower now, don’t wanna talk to him, he stinks.” She murmurs out in between giggles. You roll your eyes and look back up again, but sure enough Cedric has disappeared and you sit back down.

“You sure you don’t want to- drink some?” Brinley asks, lifting a cup to your nose.

“Brin I need to be sober enough to give it back to him, later okay?” You smile, pushing the cup back to the brunette. She mutters a short ‘suit yourself’ in response.

For a while you simply sit on the couch with your leg bouncing nervously up and down, you keep glancing back and forth at the clock and the robe in your hands and as you finally begin tuning Brinley’s drunk rambling out, Cedric emerges from the boy’s staircase in a casual white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Standing again, you weave your way through the crowd and tap Cedric on the shoulder to get his attention. He turns to face you and a playful smirk lifts his lips.

“Well hello there kitten.” He teases softly.

“Hey Ced, h-here’s your robe.” You manage to stumble out, words getting caught in your throat as glistening beads of water slipped down from Cedric’s damp hair down his cheek.

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty attached to it after the game.” Cedric chuckles.

“Oh, t-that. That was nothing just-” You’re cut off by another voice.

“Y/n, they’re doing a drinking game, come on we have too!” Brinley laughs. “Oh hi Ceddy, would you like to join?” She asks, taking both of your hands.

“Sure sunshine, lead the way.” Cedric shrugs, ushering you forwards and nonchalantly placing his hand on your waist.

The three of you take a seat on the couches again and are handed a cup by another student.

“What are we playing?” You ask, turning to Cedric.

“A muggle game called ‘never have I ever.’ You just take a shot if you’ve done something they say.” He explains, thanking the person who begins filling up your glasses.

You nod and take a deep, trying to focus on your drink and not Cedric’s hand resting on your hip.

They start off with generic questions, “never have I ever broken a bone,” “never have I ever broken up with someone,” “never have I ever lost a bet.”

Soon at least everyone had taken at least one drink, you included.

“Alright, never have I ever had sex!” Brinley questions smugly, watching as one by one everyone threw back their drink with a smile, only to stop on you.

Her eyebrows furrow, “aren’t you gonna take a drink y/n?”

“Oh- aren’t the rules if you have done it?” You question, worried you had been playing the game wrong.

“No-no it is. But you’ve never ‘done the deed’ before?” She asks, tilting her head in confusion.

“Well, no.” You state, shrugging.

“Honey, are you saying you’re in your last year of school, and you’ve never had a good shag?” She giggles, losing her filter with the amount of drinks she had.

“Brinley!” You scold, burning up with embarrassment.

“Aw, y/n!” She coos, wrapping you in a tight hug as if you were a lost puppy. “You’re so innocent and sweet, it’s adorable.” She slurs, giggling and turning back to the game.

Your lips purse and your eyebrows furrow. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do it, you just never had the chance. You kept repeating it over to yourself as if that would change anything, but your mouth remained sealed and your eyebrows furrowed.

Cedric notices your change in demeanor and leans down closer to your ear.

“Are you alright kitten?”

It may have been the alcohol giving you a boost in confidence, or maybe the teasing you couldn’t stand, but you squeezed your legs together shamelessly right for Cedric to see.

Glancing up at the brunette you shake your head and stand from your spot, you extend your hand out for Cedric to take and he obliges, allowing you to lead him down to a more secluded area next to the boy’s dormitory staircase.

“Is everything alright?” Cedric asks as you cut him off.

“C-Can you help me?” You stammer out, wringing your fingers together.

“With what y/n?” Cedric implores, tilting your chin up to face him.

“Y-You’ve done it before right? A lot?” You continue, feeling your face grow hot.

“Listen kitten, I can only help you if you tell me what it is.” Cedric states firmly.

You swallow your pride and feel your knees buckling under his intense stare, with all the courage you can muster, you take a deep breath and murmur.

“Can you show me how to do it, c-can you fuck  me?”

Cedric’s eyes widen and he has to blink the shock out of his eyes. He’d never been asked to help someone through their first time, he found it surprising you would ask him of all people, but at the same time, it was no secret he had done it all when it came to this and your request had his cock hardening in need.

“Alright kitten.” Cedric smirks, taking your hand into his and leading you up the stairs to his private head-boy room. “If you want a lesson, I’d be happy to give one.” He chuckles darkly.

You can already feel the arousal from his words alone dripping from your core to your panties as you nod slowly. Cedric pulls you into his dorm, shutting the door behind him in locking it.

“Now be good darling, and let me teach you.” Cedric smirks, pinning you against the wall and lifting your chin up to him. “Y-Yes…” You respond shyly.

“Yes, who?” Cedric teases, leaning closer to you and ghosting them right over yours. “Call me whatever feels right, kitten.” Cedric smirks, noticing you deep in thought.

“Yes daddy.” You respond meekly, almost like a question. Cedric’s eyebrows raise and his mouth begins to water at your words.

“Say it again, louder.” Cedric teases, placing his hands on your hips and squeezing tightly.

“Yes daddy!” You repeat louder, watching as Cedric’s sharp gray eyes go dark and his lips are on yours. Cedric groans as your lips mould to his, and he takes the lead, moving you in sync with his movements and tilting your chin for better access.

The brunette had never had a lover call him any nicknames before, they usually stuck to his name as he fucked them, but Merlin was this better.

His hands fly to the hem of your sweatshirt as he breaks the kiss for a moment to throw it off before connecting your lips again, slowly prodding his tongue along your bottom lip as you submissively open your mouth to give him access.

Cedric glides his tongue against yours gently swirling it around, taking in the taste of strong firewhiskey essence left on your breath and the sweet smelling perfume on your skin.

His hands travel down your chest and onto your hips as he drags your pants down by the waist, leaving them in a pool around your legs, leaving you only in your bra and panties.

Not taking his lips off yours, Cedric takes your hands and places them at the hem of his white shirt and you get the message, slowly, you take the soft fabric in between your fingers and tug it up Cedric’s chest, pulling back to maneuver it over his head and dropping it on the ground beside you. Taking your hands into his again, Cedric guides your hands to his torso and chest, inviting you to touch him as he deepens the kiss once again.

You oblige and place one hand on his toned shoulder and the other finds its place around Cedric’s abdomen and on his lower back, pulling you impossibly closer to the hufflepuff.

Your breath hitches as you feel the brunette’s hard length pressing against your lower stomach and you pull away from the kiss for a moment to look down and gulp nervously.

Cedric looks down at you teasingly, watching your eyes go from excitement to anxiety.

“What’s wrong kitten? Do you want to get on your knees for your daddy?” Cedric chuckles, placing his nose against your ear and whispering in a hushed tone.

“Y-Yes daddy, but-”

“Shh, daddy has it covered, kitten.” Cedric smirks, bringing his long digits up and placing two in front of your lips.

“Now show me what you want to do, and then we’ll put those lips of yours to real use.” Cedric nods, doing his best to keep himself upright as you nervously open your mouth and take his fingers down to the knuckle, Cedric swallows his urge to just fuck you right there and bites back a groan as your tongue begins swirling around his fingers. Your movements are slow and timid at first, but you move your hand up to hold Cedric’s fingers in place and begin moving your head back and forth, moving quickly but taking your time to drag your tongue up and down Cedric’s long digits.

“Fuck that’s perfect kitten.” Cedric smiles weakly, feeling his cock begin to throb in desire.

“Does it feel good daddy?” You ask, pushing Cedric back a bit so you have room to get down on your knees. “Yes, so good.”

You smile and pull down Cedric’s sweatpants by the waistband and his hand finds its way into your hair, softly at first, but as his length finally springs free, his grip tightens and you smirk knowingly.

Taking Cedric’s shaft into your hands you begin teasing the hufflepuff’s tip with your tongue, running it up and down his thick shaft as his grip on your hair tightens and soft groans leave his lips. You pause for a moment, and Cedric, sensing your fear, places his other hand on your jaw and gathers your hair into his hand.

“You’re doing so well, kitten, making daddy feel so good.” Cedric sighs contently with a grin. Your smile returns to your face and you nod, taking Cedric’s length into your mouth as far as you could and using your hand for what you can’t reach, and like with his fingers you begin swirling your tongue around, testing the waters and glazing up to see Cedric’s reaction.

Eyes closed, mouth agape, and incoherent curses spilling from his lips, you feel your confidence grow and you pick up the pace, bobbing your head back and forth and slowing down to tease his tip. You grow daring and attempt to go deeper, and as Cedric feels his tip hitting the back of your throat he lets out a low groan and feels his hips rolling gently.

With tears pricking your eyes you take Cedric’s cock as the arousal in your pussy grows and with eyes clouded by pleasure, the gray-eyed hufflepuff smirks.

“Use your finger kitten, and make circles around until you find the right spot.” Cedric instructs, watching your hand travel down past your stomach and into your panties.

You experiment around, slowly moving upwards until you feel it, a sudden burst of pleasure hitting you right in the perfect spot..

“Mmh!” You moan, moving your fingers faster against your clit, finally feeling the need in your lower stomach being satisfied.

Your moans send vibrations up Cedric’s shaft and send the brunette doubling over in pleasure with one hand on the wall behind you for support.

“T-That’s it kitten, fuck.” Cedric sighs, watching your hand move back and forth against your clit while your tongue swirls addictively against his cock.

For a moment, with his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head Cedric forgets ‘the lesson’ and delves deeper into the pleasure, his eyes train on your lips wrapped around him and your fingers moving innocently, still too nervous to go deeper, the feeling of you gagging was enough to get him to snap out for a moment and let go of his grip on your hair.

“W-What’s wrong daddy?” You ask, looking up to Cedric with wide eyes.

“N-Nothing, it’s just time for our next lesson.” He explains, helping you up and leading you over to his bed.

Pushing you backwards onto the bed, Cedric watches intrigued as your eyes fly about his room instead of looking at him and he bites back a smirk.

“That’s enough kitten, lay back.” Cedric commands.

You oblige immediately, slowly lowering yourself onto the soft bed and wringing your fingers together over your stomach.

Cedric pauses, dragging his eyes over your body and taking in every curve, you feel the insecurity bubble in your stomach and you move your hands to hide it, when Cedric grabs them and whispers a simple, “don’t, you’re beautiful.”

Your face flushes red and you allow Cedric to place your arms at your side before hooking his fingers on the sides of your soaked panties and pulling them down.

The full scent of your arousal hits him full force and the sight of it glistening all for him made the wish to just drop to his knees now unbearable.

“Okay kitten. I want you to spread your legs and play with your clit again.” Cedric orders, stepping back and crossing his arms.

“W-What?”

“Spread your legs and fuck yourself with your fingers, kitten.” Cedric repeats, watching in amusement as your eyes widen and your lips purse nervously, legs spreading and fingers finding themselves on your clit nevertheless.

“L-Like this daddy?” You ask, gently teasing your fingers down your slit.

“Faster kitten.” Cedric replies plainly, smirking to himself.

You gasp suddenly as your digits begin to pick up the pace, moving in circles around your throbbing clit. “L-Like this?” You pant, throwing your head back gently as the pleasure

“That’s perfect darling. How does it feel?” Cedric smirks.

“Good. So-So good!” You squeak, curling your toes at the euphoria rushing through your abdomen and through your veins as you push your fingers faster and faster.

Your hips buck upwards and your panting grows heavier as your thoughts and movement begin to grow erratic. Cedric licks his lips and steps forwards, lowering himself down onto his knees and prying your hand away, he watches in delight as your eyes widen in confusion at him, your mouth opening and closing as you try to regain your thoughts.

“Just relax, kitten.” Cedric coos, inching closer and licking a thick stripe up your core, lingering seductively on your clit as he pushes it around with his tongue.

“O-Oh fuck.” You moan, tightening your grip on the sheet as you watch Cedric suck gently on the sensitive bud. His large calloused hands massage your thighs as he works, gently caressing them as they shake in pleasure.

He shifts his attention downwards, letting his tongue slide down until he reaches your slit and then, agonizingly slowly, he begins to dip the tip of his tongue in and out, again and again, watching you shake and whine impatiently, waiting for you to break.

You try to pull him closer to you by burying your hand into his hair and tugging on him, but he keeps his pace, no matter how hard you buck your hips or grind down on him he persists until finally you beg.

“Please daddy, please. I-I need you! Fuck go faster.” You cry in pure need.

Cedric smirks to himself victoriously and obliges.

“Whatever my princess wants.”

As if a switch was flipped Cedric begins darting his tongue out as quick as he could, going in and out and lapping up and down.

The hufflepuff moves his hand from your thigh and begins slowly teasing you as his tongue swirls around your clit. You whimper at the feeling of his fingers sinking into your slit and grind your hips instinctively at the feeling. Your core clenches as Cedric’s digits pick up the pace, your mouth parts over and over again, trying to find your voice, but no words come out. You couldn’t think, couldn’t move, all you could feel was Cedric fingers thrusting in and out of you and his tongue sending delicious shockwaves up your stomach it was too much, but it felt so fucking good. You could feel your body clench and something tightening inside you that kept tugging everytime Cedric’s fingers slammed back into you.

Cedric chuckles to himself, sending even more vibrations up your core. He knew what was coming. Your breathing was growing erratic, your hips were bucking and you were squirming around in his grip.

“Do you feel that kitten?” He smirks, watching as you nod vigorously.

“Let go, darling. Relax.” Cedric hushes in a soft tone.

His fingers don’t stop as you finally give in, white flashing your vision as you cry and feel your release, crying Cedric’s name over and over again as he helps you ride out your high.

“Beautiful darling.” He murmurs, cleaning you off with his tongue as you whimper in response.

“How are you feeling? We can stop if-”

You cut him off.

“No! P-Please daddy, it feels so good I want more.” Your eyes widen at your own words and your face flushes a deep shade of red, you look down.

Cedric’s eyes widen for a moment before his grin returns and he nods.

“Very well then.” He murmurs, ditching his sweatpants that were wrapped around his ankles and climbing onto his bed.

Pushing you back gently he positions himself above you and takes his lips into yours in a soft kiss, waiting for you to return it.

Your eyes close and you tilt your head to the side, allowing Cedric to part his lips and tease his tongue along yours.

You breathe sharply in through your nose as the taste of your pussy still lingers on Cedric’s lips, but you find yourself moaning at the sensation, wrapping your arms around Cedric’s neck to pull him closer to you.

His hands move to your back where he skillfully unclips your bra, breaking the kiss for only a second as he pulls it from your arms and tosses it away.

Before you even realize it his lips are on your again, harder this time and far more passionate, he moves his lips slowly but fully, making you moan in satisfaction.

You feel your arousal grow again as heat builds up in your core, you swing your legs impatient around Cedric’s torso in a wordless plea to fuck you.

Cedric smiles into the kiss and without removing his lips from yours he uses his hands to loosen the grip from your legs and place them back on his bed. He pushes them apart and gets himself into position, before slowly pushing his length into you. You drew a sharp breath as he pushed deeper into you, but the sharp feeling went away almost immediately as you shifted yourself into a more comfortable position.

Cedric has to restrain himself from starting as he waits for your permission to start. Being your first time, he didn’t want to accidentally hurt you, or start before you were ready.

He lets out a breathy groan, you wrapped around him so perfectly, he had to pull away from your lips for a moment to bite his lip.

You capture his lips back into yours and whisper softly for him to start, Cedric doesn’t hesitate and begins to roll his hips in and out, building speed with each thrust of his hips.

“Fuck kitten you feel so good.” He moans, moving his lips to your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin as you sigh in pleasure.

Your breathing came out in rough pants with each thrust from Cedric’s hips, mixing with moans of ecstasy as he filled you up each time, hitting the spot deep in you that had your toes curling and your head lolling back.

“Faster daddy please!” You cry as Cedric nods and quickened his pace making shallow but thorough thrusts and sent vibration all the way up your body and through your veins.

“F-Fuck right there.” You beg, holding onto Cedric’s back like your life depended on it.

“You’re doing so well for me kitten, f-fuck.” Cedric praises causing light shivers to go down your spine.

You whimper softly.

Cedric chuckles softly as he buries his neck in your neck again and bucks his hips, burying himself fully causing a sharp gasp.

“Kitten you feel so good wrapped around my cock, Merlin I could fuck you for days.” The brunette murmurs darkly.

Your face darkens even more and you can only squeak out a small ‘thank you’ before Cedric begins snapping his hips back and forth again.

“Oh- oh fuck.”

“You like it when I praise you kitten? Tell you how perfect you feel while I fuck you.” Cedric taunts, pressing hard kisses down your neck.

“Yes daddy, I love it!” You shout, tightening your grip on his back as Cedric thrusts faster and harder

The tight sensation in your stomach was back and it was getting harder to hold in your climax with Cedric thrusts still hitting your core perfectly.

“D-Daddy, I’m so close.” You pant, arching your back and dropping your head into the pillows below you.

“I-I’m almost there kitten, you’re doing so well.” Cedric breathes, moaning in pleasure as you clench suddenly, trying to keep your release at bay.

“It’s alright darling, cum for me love.” Cedric murmurs, connecting your lips once more as his thrusts grow slower. You nod firmly, arching your back and feeling your eyes roll back as ecstasy pulses through your being.

The shockwaves from your release and the sound of your voice shouting his name pushes Cedric over the edge and after one final thrust his vision flashes.

“Oh fuck y/n.” He moans, slowly rolling his hips to ride out his high.

Cedric smiles as he finishes, collapsing gently beside you.

“How was it, kitten?” Cedric asks teasingly, placing his hand on your cheek.

“W-Wow.” You mutter after a moment. “It was perfect Ced, I learned so much.” You smile.

“That's great kitten, you did… amazing.” Cedric smirks, finding his voice getting caught in his throat as he speaks.

You glance out the window and see darkness pouring through the glass panes.

“M’ getting tired Ced.” You sigh, getting ready to throw the covers off and try to get back to your room.

“Hey, hey. It’s alright. You can stay here, I’ll clean you up.” The hufflepuff insists, sitting up suddenly and grabbing his wand.

You nod and close your eyes for a moment, he murmurs a spell and when you open your eyes again you are cleaned off and Cedric was walking towards you with clean clothes, wearing his sweatpants again.

“Here, I-I’ll get you some water.” he smiles, laying a large t-shirt and a pair of his boxers onto the bed.

You nod meekly and sit up carefully to grab the clothing.

Shrugging on the shirt, you watch as Cedric makes his way to his door.

“Thank you by the way.” You sigh hoarsely, smiling to yourself.

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll be back in a moment.” Cedric nods, opening the door to his dorm and leaving.

“Godric…” Cedric sighs to himself as he leaves. For a moment he leans on the door and just breathes. This was just supposed to be a ‘lesson.’ A one night thing where you’d be together one night and forget. But, how was he going to forget? The way you touched his skin, said his name, called him ‘daddy.’

Fuck.

By the time he reached the common room the party had died down to only the hufflepuff students who were either passed out or cleaning up.

The refreshments table still had a few pitchers of water no one had touched so Cedric grabs one and two cups before turning and walking towards the stairs.

When he returned you were half passed out on his bed, your eyes flutter lightly as he walks in and Cedric can’t help but smile. You look so beautiful lying there, exhausted, but absolutely stunning.

“Hey, I brought you something to drink.” He whispers, pouring you a drink before helping you sit up.

“Mm-” You nod, taking the cup from his hand and drinking it.

The cool water feels amazing down your dry throat, you smile and thank him again before handing the cup back to him and collapsing back into bed.

“I-I’ll sleep on the floor.” Cedric mutters, placing the cup onto his bedside stand.

“No- Can you stay with me, please?” You murmur out suddenly, shifting to the side of the bed and snuggling yourself into his blanket.

“Yeah, of course.”Cedric smiles, sitting beside you before laying and getting situated in the covers.

You turn as soon as he’s comfortable and cuddle yourself into his chest.

“G’night Cedric.” You yawn, feeling your fatigue pull you into unconsciousness.

“Goodnight y/n.” The hufflepuff murmurs, wrapping his arms around your torso and resting his chin over your head.

There was something soothing about your breathing, the scent of your hair, the feeling of your skin against his. Something about you felt right, you felt perfectly sculpted against him.

Almost, ethereal.

But you deserved so much better than him. More than a playboy that has used every trick in the book. More than someone who could barely remember his nights because of alcohol. More than him.

You were innocent, more or less, compared to him. You still had a chance.

He sighs, pulling you closer to him.

For tonight though it didn’t matter, you were asleep peacefully in his arms and he was there with you. You could make the choice in the morning. But for now he was here, with you.

And that was all that mattered.

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 1

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

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

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

A/N: if you couldn’t already tell, I have planned this as a series/full story. I was torn between writing it on here or on Wattpad or something, but ultimately decided on Tumblr . . . but let me know if you would prefer it on another platform as well! Also, this series will eventually include smut/NSFW content but that will be tagged appropriately when the time comes. As always, I hope you enjoy. 

Next →Part 2

Slamming the front door behind yourself on your way out that morning, you quickly stuffed your earbuds into your ears and cranked your music as loud as you could to drown out the sounds of your parents yelling after you and, consequently, at one another after you had dropped the bomb about your new job on them seconds before you had left, giving them as little time as possible to shame you for it.

After graduating high school and turning 18, you had decided it was time to take your life into your hands, which wasn’t too easy while you were still living under your parents’ roof, but you had to start somewhere and that somewhere was getting a job at the local corner store, Sakanoshita Market. 

You knew that your parents wanted you to go to university and ‘make something of yourself’, but you also knew that you could never truly be happy under their dictatorship-like ruling, so you decided to get a job, no matter how shitty, save your money, move out as soon as possible, and go from there. 

It was definitely going to be a process, and not an easy one, but all you had to do was take it one step at a time.

Rounding the corner and seeing the market in the distance, you felt your nerves begin to bubble inside of you a little. Sure, you had gotten some part-time jobs here and there during summer vacation before, but you had never gotten a full-time job before and had never needed the money from a job like you did now. Before, the cash you made was for extra spending money during the summer and school year, but now the money you would be making would be funding your future. It seemed like a lot of pressure to put on a job that entailed stocking shelves, checking out customers, and cleaning. 

The lady who had hired you had basically explained that since she was getting older and her son, who had been maintaining the place previously, had gotten a new job, the store needed someone to learn the ropes and take care of the place on a daily basis; and since you were young, a fast learner, and didn’t have anything else in your life besides work, you were a perfect fit. 

As the shop doors slid open smoothly to welcome you into the store you had been inside countless times in the past, you suddenly felt completely out of place in the familiar market. Now that you were an employee instead of a customer, the atmosphere had completely shifted. Instead of heading right for the fridges to grab a drink like you usually did, your eyes shifted immediately to the front counter where a figure with its feet up hid behind an open newspaper.

Just like every other time you had visited while the store owner’s son was working, he did everything humanly possible to avoid interaction. Usually, you would have appreciated not being bothered while trying to scan the shelves, but since this time was different, the lack of acknowledgement was slightly unnerving. 

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, hoping it was enough to catch his attention. It was not. Instead, he flipped the page of the newspaper and you watched as a hand emerged from behind the paper barrier to flick the ashes from his cigarette into an ashtray sitting beside the register. 

Eyebrows furrowed, you really wished that the shop owner herself had been there to greet you for your first day instead of her seemingly useless son. “Hello.” You stepped up to the counter, the feeling of not belonging sinking deeper into your bones. 

Slowly, the newspaper separating you from the man behind the counter lowered and the shop owner’s son glared back at you, eyes half-lidded as if he were seconds away from falling asleep and the cigarette from before hanging from his bottom lip. This was far from the first time you had interacted with him, but you would be surprised if he remembered you as a customer even a little. Whenever he checked customers out, you could tell he was running on autopilot. 

The man’s eyes drifted down to your hands, which were resting on top of the counter now. Noticing you didn’t have anything to purchase, he cocked a brow. “Need help finding somethin’?” 

“Ugh, no,” you answered. “I’m the new employee. I’m supposed to start today.”

His eyes scanned you once more, this time more thoroughly, and you swallowed hard. Feeling as if you were being observed under a microscope, you slid your hands off of the counter and stuffed them into your pockets self-consciously. 

As he inspected you inch by inch, you took the time to take a closer look at him as well. With dyed blonde hair, two earrings in his left ear, an apparent nicotine addiction, and a noticeably flippant attitude toward his job, he was the definition of the type of man your parents would kill you for bringing home. Somehow, this only made him more intriguing. You wondered if he really was as disinterested in everything as he seemed or if it was just this job he thoroughly hated and became someone a lot more interesting when he wasn’t behind a counter.

“How old are you?” he asked out of the blue, catching you off guard a little. While he waited for you to answer, he set the newspaper to the side, dragged his feet from the counter top, and patted out some of the wrinkles from the white apron he had tied around his bright orange sweatshirt. 

“I’m 18,” you responded, not sure why it mattered but also not seeing any harm in answering honestly. 

Seconds later, the door to the back of the shop and storage room opened and the familiar face of the woman who had hired you stepped into view. “Oh, Y/N!” she greeted happily; much more enthusiastically and welcoming than her son. “Sorry about that, I was just getting some last minute things together.” She eyed her son out of the corner of her eye and noted the fresh embers in the ashtray. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No, I just got here,” you told her. 

“Good.” She smiled sweetly before turning to her son. “Well, you can head out now, Keishin. Thank you for watching the counter.”

“Yeah,” the man, Keishin, grunted as he untied the apron from around his waist, slipped it over his head, and hung it up on a hook behind the counter. “See ya.”

With that, Keishin left, leaving you and his mother alone. Wasting no time, Mrs. Sakanoshita, whom the store was named after, got right to work on teaching you the basics and gifting you with a white apron of your own to wear while on the job. Since it was the middle of the day and the customer flow was relatively slow, she introduced you to how the register and scanner at the counter worked before moving on to unpacking boxes.

Just like you had promised on your resume and during the interview, you were a quick learner and Mrs. Sakanoshita was more than pleased to see you picking up the job quickly and efficiently. 

By the time the after work/school rush of patrons picking up items on their way home had begun, you were feeling confident in your abilities and, with your boss by your side to answer any questions you may have, you checked out customer after customer, building up muscle memory for scanning items, collecting cash, opening the register, handing out receipts, and sending customers on their merry way. 

All in all, the job was quickly growing on you. You liked the fact that, for the most part, you were the only employee on duty, so when there weren’t any customers in the store, you could work silently on unpacking boxes without having to worry about making small talk or being friendly with any coworkers. In fact, as far as you knew, the only people who worked at the store at all were you, Mrs. Sakanoshita, and her son, Keishin. 

It seemed as though you had really landed a sweet gig. 

After showing you how to lock up, Mrs. Sakanoshita headed home for the night, leaving you to finish stocking the shelves and cleaning the shop before you would head home as well.

Now that you were truly the only person left, you walked over to the old radio you had spotted on the counter during training that day and fiddled with the dials, trying to get some music playing to accompany you during your evening chores. After some careful handiwork and enduring some horrendous static and high-pitched screeching while searching for a station, you settled on what sounded like some old instrumental music and got to work on stocking the remaining shelves.

Throughout your shift, you quickly learned that the store got quite warm during the day and you had needed to tie your hair up to keep the back of your neck from dripping with sweat. The night wasn’t much better either, especially since the lack of customers so late meant that the doors rarely opened, keeping the cold night air outside and the warm store air inside. 

After finishing the last box of supplies, you exhaled and wiped your brow. You were exhausted, that was for sure, but you still had to sweep. 

Deciding to take a quick break, you turned toward the floor-to-ceiling fridges at the back of the shop and pulled open the door, sighing happily when the cool air hit your skin. Exhaling slowly, you snickered when you saw your breath fog up in front of you face. 

“You’re letting all the cold air out.”

You shrieked when you heard a voice in your right ear and slammed the fridge door shut, jumping back in the process. Thanks to the music from the radio and the loud hum of the generator that kept the fridges cold, you hadn’t heard the front doors slide open or the footsteps of Keishin approaching you.

“Jesus!” You clamped your hand over your chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry?”

“What are you doing here?”

Keishin glared at you. “You work here one day and suddenly act like you own the place?”

Realizing how rude your question had come across, you composed yourself and rephrased. “What I meant was, your mom didn’t say you were coming back.”

Pointing upward, Keishin sighed, disinterested. “I live in the apartment above the shop.”

“Oh.” Things started making much more sense and you suddenly felt pretty embarrassed for how you had reacted. 

“Yeah . . . oh.” He rolled his eyes, but it didn’t come across necessarily rude but more like he was exhausted and you were adding to said exhaustion. “Why were you standing with the door open anyway?”

As he spoke, he stepped toward you. At first, your feet felt cemented to the floor and you didn’t move. But when he persisted closer, you eventually stumbled back and Keishin opened the fridge door you had been standing in front of to grab a beer from inside. With drink in hand, he eyed you once again, waiting for an answer.

“It’s really hot,” you said, gesturing to his orange sweater. “I don’t know how you wear that thing in here.”

Looking down at his apparel, he just shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.” He turned and started for the counter, presumably to pay for the drink he had just taken. “In the future, stand outside if you’re warm.”

“Okay.” You nodded, mindlessly tailing him. You had to grab the broom from behind the counter anyway, but that was the furthest thing from the front of your mind at that moment. If anything, you were still trying to calm down a little from being startled and now being alone with your boss’s son. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He popped the tab on the beer, settled into the stool behind the counter, and downed at least half of the drink in a few large gulps. 

You watched him, probably a little too closely, and as you did you found yourself reexamining the features you had taken note of earlier that day: the dyed blonde hair held out of his face with a thin black headband, the natural brown hair that peeked out from the roots, the two small silver hoop earrings in his left ear, the scent of cigarette smoke that clung to him like how the smell of rain clung to the air after a heavy storm. 

Noticing your gaze, which would have been nearly impossible to miss, Keishin quirked a brow at you and held out the can of beer toward you. “You want a sip?”

Startled from your thoughts, you shook your head. “I’m only 18.” You reminded him.

“Oh, right.” He withdrew the can and took another sip, this one much smaller than the first few. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Eyes wide, you thought quick to come up with an excuse. “The broom.” You pointed to the item behind him. “Can you pass me the broom?”

After handing you the broom, Keishin pulled a slip of paper and a pen out from his pocket and started writing and scribbling things down, sipping the remainder of his beer occasionally and ignoring you completely. 

Trying to avoid staring at Keishin anymore than you already had, you started sweeping at the far end of the store and left the area around and behind the counter for last. Eventually, though, you had worked your way back over to the the silent man and was forced to clean the floor behind where he was sitting, trying hard not to disturb him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of what he was so focused on; it looked like a crude drawing of a volleyball court. “What’s that?” you asked, the words leaving your mouth before you realized you were being rude again and snooping.

Keishin, however, didn’t seem angry or annoyed in the slightest. “Volleyball positions,” he huffed. It was clear he was growing frustrated.

“You play volleyball?”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “I used to. Now I coach the boy’s team at Karasuno.”

“I went to Karasuno,” you said mindlessly, just trying to make conversation at that point. 

He hummed in response and turned his attention back to the sheet before him. “Did you play volleyball?”

“No. Soccer.”

“Do you still play?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Do you still play volleyball?”

“With a neighbourhood association sometimes . . . but not really.”

“Why?”

The corners of his mouth curling up into a smirk, Keishin looked back to you once more. “I asked you first.”

“It’s not a good answer.” You leaned against the broom handle and sighed. “Don’t have the time.”

“You’re young and just graduated high school. You’ve got nothing but time.”

“Not with this job.”

Keishin scoffed, folded the paper, and shoved it back into his pocket with the pen. “Speaking of which, why would you take such a boring job at a store like this?”

You just shrugged. “I need the money.”

“Don’t you live with your parents?”

“That’s the problem,” you said, noticing the confusion on his face. “I told you it wasn’t a good answer.”

“Do they know you work here?”

“Do they know? Yes,” you answered truthfully. “Do they like it? Absolutely not.”

Keishin grinned at that before finishing his beer and tossing the empty can into the recycling bin beside the front door. “So you’re one of those teens, huh?”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Trust me, kid, pissing off your parents just for the sake of it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“You think I’m doing all this just because I can?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Why then?”

“That story’s too long and convoluted for me to recite right now . . . especially to some old dude I just met today.”

Keishin chuckled under his breath, hands stuffed into his pockets as he headed for the door at the back of the shop so he could head upstairs to his apartment. “’Old dude’,” he repeated, clearly amused. “Don’t forget to lock up before you go home.”

As he turned his back to you, your curiosity got the better of you. “How old are you?”

Stopping in his tracks, Keishin pulled out a carton of cigarettes from his pants’ pocket along with a lighter. After placing the smoke between his lips, he lit it and inhaled deeply. “Too old for you, sweetheart,” he spoke while exhaling, smoke spilling from his lips as he smirked at you. 

With that, he disappeared into the back. You wanted to shout after him that you had told him how old you were without hesitation when he had asked, but you stayed silent instead. 

As much as his presence unnerved you and his superiority complex aggravated you, you still found yourself inexplicably drawn to him. Maybe it was because he seemed completely disinterested in you, or maybe it was because he was everything you were always told to stay away from. 

The one thing you did know, however, was that if everyone around you was going to keep trying to convince you they knew how you should live your life better than you did, you were going to prove to them just how they wrong they were one way or another. 

[jairights]

❦ LAWLESS: ONE

content warning: noncon, cursing, violence, manipulation, possessiveness, jealousy, humiliation, overstimulation, explicit sexual contents, gangbang, mentions of killing, traumatic events, sensitive topics, drugs, self-harm, detailed smut, dark content.

reader is 18 and mikey is 28

english is not my first language, expect typographical and grammatical error.

all chapters on masterlist.

minors dni.

Y/N

I entered our cell room, we're about to have dinner when the Chief called me earlier telling me I'll be free tomorrow... bad news.

After assaulting some middle schoolers who didn't gave me money, I was send here in juvie. At first, I didn't like it... but this place is better than living outside.

My cell mates are just eating casually on our mini-table. I sat on the free space and flip the table up, spilling all the food on the floor with a loud thud. Looking dense like it's the normal thing to do.

"This bitch lose her mind again." Erin, one of my cell mate said.

I always annoy them whenever I am bored. Well... it's really boring here.

Shie, my other cell mate, stood up and went to me. "Hey, what's your problem? Huh?" She said slapping me lightly multiple times.

"I will be free tomorrow." I told them sadly.

Kia, also a cell mate, laughed. "Why? Are you bragging about it? Glad you'll be gone."

"No... don't wanna go out." I said blankly looking at them.

All of them surround me aside from Haru, also a cellmate, who's just watching us. "Let her be, she's picking a fight so she can stay here more." She said.

I nod lightly. Puppy eyes at them so we can make a chaos tonight when the officers starts their rounds.

The four of them starts cleaning the floor while I am looking at them blankly, sucking my teeth because of boredom. Blinking slowly thinking how my plan failed, they should be throwing punches right now like they always did.

"What should we eat now? We'll be hungry later because of that dumbass." Kia said looking at me.

"Let her be... if we fight back it might add up to our sentence." Erin said rolling her eyes at me.

Shie is about to take the mop beside me but I grabbed it first. "Give it to me, you already hit my nerve earlier." She said.

Among all of them, Shie is the easiest to get annoyed. She doesn't like defeat so she always fight back.

I kick the wooden stick of the map breaking it and hit Shie in her side stomach. The other's mouth gaped and she starts groaning in pain while glaring at me.

I smiled at her. "You slapped me several times earlier so..." I said and hit her again.

As expected she fight back. All of them come at me, letting out every annoyance they felt since earlier when I flipped our food.

Hitting them with one stick is not enough. They keep on landing hit on me with their punches. Four versus one is not so fair. I climbed up onto the mini-table and swing the stick, making them back off a little. I break the stick in two, holding one each hand.

"You fuckers are dead tonight." I told them and giggled.

I began hitting them again in every part I can. Damn, it's tiring. I've fought with them a lot, almost everyday but today we are going all out since this might be my last day.

Haru managed to grab my hair while I am busy hitting Kia and Erin.

"Fuck you!" I shouted while she pulled my hair.

I hit Erin's head with a stick and she fell losing consciousness. One down...

Haru is still pulling my hair behind me so I pushed her by walking backwards. Letting her back hit the stoned wall with forced, she groaned and I elbowed her stomach. She kneeled in pain, damn weaks. Two down.

I looked at Kia and Shie, they are shocked by what just happened. I threw them the sticks and tied my hair. "Use that as a weapon, come at me at once." I beckoned them.

Both of them didn't take the stick. "Weapons are for the weaks." Shie smirked.

Kia come at me landing a punch on my cheek and I kicked her stomach. I turned to Shie, she greeted me with her fist. Kia who's behind me, headlock me with her thin arms.

"And what do you call with people who can't fight alone?" I asked smiling and choking in Kia's arm.

"I don't know, ask yourself... you've been alone for a long time." Shie answered and punch my stomach.

"We don't experience being alone, we have each other." Kia told me.

"That's why you guys followed each other here in juvie." I laughed. "Weaklings."

Lifting both of my feet forcefully, Shie back off a little. I hold Kia's arm on my neck and bend down with all my strength lifting her up. Her arms loosened up by the sudden force, I threw her on the floor flipping her up. That's make it three.

Shie starts taking care of Kia who's crying in pain on the floor. I put my foot on Shie's shoulder and pushed her to the ground, she glared at me while trying to remove my foot.

"See? If you didn't check on her I won't get you like this." I grinned.

And four. K.O!

An officer in charge of walking rounds, around the cell at night saw the mess in our room. My face lightened and peace sign at him. I was caught, mission success!

I was brought to a different cell, a room with no lights, no bed, no anything. Just floor and a window lighting the room with the moonlight. I spend the night here hugging my knees in coldness. Alone.

"I heard you cause a mess last night?" The Chief asked.

I rolled my eyes. I am now at the Chief's office after spending the night at a cold room.

"You did that since you don't want to go out but you already serve your six months sentence." He poured hot water on his tea. "I heard it's your birthday tomorrow, congratulations you'll turn 18." He said.

I rolled my eyes again. "I wanna spend my birthday here, sir." I told him.

He turned to me confusely. "Did you lost some screws in your head? Why do you want to stay in the juvie that bad?" He asked.

"If I go outside, I don't have a place to sleep." I looked at him blankly. "I will assault someone again and come back here. Trials are tiring, hearing people arguing when I don't give a fuck, so let me stay here." I plead.

He sips on his tea and leaned back on the couch. "You are frustrating... if you did it again, you will be in jail not here. You'll be 18, remember?" A sigh left his chest. "Take her out, she's free today anyway." He told the officers near his office's door.

I pulled my arms away when the officers hold me. "I can walk alone, don't touch me."

"Hey..." the Chief called my attention. "Live your life for the better... you are still young and has a lot of time to enjoy it."

I looked at him disgustingly, cringing by the words he just said. "Nope... I'll die at 20." I let out my tongue teasing him childishly.

I sighed and walk out of the juvie. Other people would be glad going out from jail or juvie but not me. I don't have a place outside.

I pulled up my hoodie wearing it and put down my skateboard. Damn, I miss riding this.

A lunatic woman suddenly hold my arms.

"Y/N?"

no mikey yet :( thank u for my friends for letting me use their names.

do not repost!

[let-them-read-fics]

What Could've Been

Requested By Anon: "pls do a rosé or jennie imagine where the reader is into them but they just keep rejecting her. then they just cross the line one day and say hurtful things to y/n so the reader just ended up stopped pursuing them. then someone else (could be the other rosé or jennie also of yk what i mean) became interested in y/n and they get all petty and jealous yk djajdua,, COULD BE ANY ENDING HFHSHAU I'M JUST A REAL SUCKER FOR IMAGINES LIKE THIS TYSM"

Pairing: Love Triangle -- Jennie x Fem!Reader and Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 7,333

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Pining, Rejection, Crying, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: ⚠️ Important ⚠️ Class, gather round -- we have some things to discuss. I'm not angry, just... disappointed. *dramatic music*

First off, I want to address something with asks: as I've stated before, there's no certain amount of time that any one request will take me. Sometimes I'm more inspired by one than others, and sometimes I legitimately lack the time or brainpower to write a piece that holds true to my standards.

Please, refrain from messaging me multiple times about a request. Once is fine, especially if it's been awhile since you first asked, but I'm doing my best to give you starving fans the content you wish to see, and that takes time.

To those of you who continue to be patient with me: I sincerely appreciate it.

Secondly, I hope you enjoy this. ♡ Happy Reading ♡

PS ~ Anon, I still love you. Now enjoy this fic or you're grounded.

PPS ~ It gets better as it goes on

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Thank you," you politely say to your driver, handing him some money before stepping out of the sleek black car and onto the sidewalk. The bottoms of your shoes crunch lightly as they come in contact with the concrete, steadily announcing your course towards the performance hall. 

You let out a breath as you stand in the elevator, alone with your thoughts in the small space as it ascends. 

Your hands nervously palm the fresh bouquets of flowers you purchased on your way here -- the girls just finished a comeback stage, so you've decided to surprise them and show your love. You spent time picking out a personalized batch for each of them, making sure to mix their favorite colors and types, but you went even further for Rosé: you hand picked a larger, special array, choosing them based on their meaning and how much you think she'll appreciate them. Over the years, you've made sure to note her favorite ones; that came in handy tonight, and the florist assisting you definitely appreciated your attention to detail. 

Too chicken to go to her first, you decide to bring the other girls their gifts now and save Rosie for last. All of them are unwinding independently in their dressing rooms right now, enjoying some much needed alone time before coming back together later to celebrate. 

"Jisoo-yah!" You sing-song, rapping lightly on the door. It's slightly ajar, but you still knock out of respect for her privacy. 

In an instant, the door swings open to reveal a very happy unnie. "Y/N! I've missed you!" She nearly shouts, pulling you in for an eager hug. A surprised noise leaves her lips as her hands come in contact with the bundle behind your back, crinkling the plastic slightly in her excited state. 

"I got you a present," you say, smiling softly. Jisoo can feel the way your cheeks raise up, brushing against the skin of her neck as your head rests there, and her heart melts. After pulling out of the embrace, she wiggles her eyebrows at you.

"Well? Let me see!" You do as she asks with a chuckle, pulling her bunch out of the hold of the rubber band that's keeping them all together. "I got your favorite." You grin, sticking them out for her to see. Her eyes widen at the sight, and she's touched by the kind gesture. Flowers aren't particularly unique in terms of what companies and fans send them, but seeing the effort you put in makes it incredibly special. She couldn't be happier. 

"Y/N, you're the best." She presses a small kiss to your cheek as a thank you, and invites you in right after. Jisoo considers you to be one of the closest friends she has, so being apart hasn't been easy on her. You're the only person she's okay with venting and crying in front of, and she's been needing that lately. Sensing this, you pull a chair up to her vanity and let her fill you in on all the mayhem you missed out on during your time away, holding her hand for reassurance. When she gets a little frustrated, you rub her back gently, telling her to take her time. 

Jisoo is beyond thankful for you, and that becomes more and more apparent the closer you two get. Times like these hold a special place in her heart and remind her of why she loves you so much. You truly are a great friend to have, and there's no one she'd rather have in her corner. 

----

"Incoming! 3...2...1…" You call out, standing in front of Lisa's door, ready to knock it down and barge in. The greeting is an inside joke between the two of you, though neither of you know where its origins lie. 

"Yah! Hold on!" She shouts, nearly tripping and falling from how quick she rushes to the door. You laugh at the sounds of chaos coming from inside, wincing slightly when a thud rings out. Hair slightly disheveled, she opens the door with a huff. "This had better be good, because I almost died." 

Wordlessly, you reveal her present and smirk as the halfhearted scowl on her face disappears completely, giving way to a dopey grin. "You remembered?" She asks quietly, running her fingers over the petals of her all-time favorite flower. The fact that she sounds so shocked makes you sad -- not many people take enough time to notice the little things. They'd rather focus on profiting off of the girls' talents than actually caring enough to get to know them. 

"Of course I did, Lisa. You're one of my best friends; how could I forget?" The maknae pulls you in for a meaningful hug, allowing the gesture to tell you all the things she doesn't know how to express. She's not always the best with her words, but she makes up for it with her actions. 

"I really love you, dork. You know that?" She asks as she pulls away, ruffling your hair lightly. She cracks that smile that seems to make the world stop, and you just shake your head. 

"You'd better. Your flowers were the most expensive!" You tease, dodging her when she reaches out to grab you for that one. 

"Get back here!" She shouts, chasing you down the hall like a 5 year old, planning to get her revenge. 

---

"Jendeukie, open up!" You squeal, pounding on her door while throwing a look over your shoulder. Lisa is dangerously close, ready to tackle you as she continues charging down the hall. 

"Y/N?!" She exclaims from the other side of the door, clearly not expecting you to be here. 

"Hurry!" You can hear footsteps eagerly rushing towards the door, and just as she opens it, disaster strikes. 

Lisa's arms wrap around your waist, pushing you forward and right into Jennie. The three of you fall into her dressing room in a messy heap, limbs splayed in various positions as you yell together on the way down. You manage to keep the flowers out of harm's way, thankfully, and your arm remains stuck out just in case Lisa tries anything else. 

"Hello to you, too, Y/N." Jennie groans with a chuckle, the words coming out a little strained from all the weight on her. Lisa stands first, pulling you up right after, and you turn to help your best friend up as well. 

"I sure know how to make an entrance, huh?" Your lopsided grin makes Jennie weak in the knees, much like it has ever since she met you all those years ago, and she has to fight to contain the blush that rises to her cheeks. After bantering with Lisa for a few more moments you eventually push her out of the room, shoo-ing her back to her own in order to give yourself some one-on-one time with Jennie. 

You stick your tongue out at the maknae one final time before shutting the door and turning around, finding a very soft looking Jennie peering back at you. Her cheeks are pulled back in her signature gummy smile, and the fluffy sleeves of her Chanel sweater engulf her small hands as she cradles her face in them. 

Perhaps, if circumstances were different, you'd be hopelessly pining for this 5'4" angel instead of Rosé. Love knows no logic, though, and you're stuck chasing after a certain Australian beauty that never seems capable of giving you the time of day.

"I missed you," she pouts, pursing her lips adorably as she steps forward to wrap her arms around your shoulders. You pull her in and pick her up with a spin, smiling into her neck when she giggles in your ear. 

"Well, I'm here now. And luckily for you…." you start, allowing for some anticipation to build, "I come bearing gifts. Well, a gift. Singular." Jennie chuckles at your rambling -- it's one of the traits she finds most endearing about you, and she always hates it when people cut you down for it. It's adorable in every way. 

"Oh?" She asks, intrigued as she raises an eyebrow -- she's keeping the act up for you, of course, too fond of the cute smile on your face to tell you that she already knows what it is. You hand over the flowers with a little jig, too excited by how happy she looks to contain yourself. 

"They're beautiful, Y/N." She stops herself from adding a, "just like you," to the end of the phrase, wishing she was able to say things like that. You deserve to be reminded of how special you are everyday, and she knows her bandmate fails to do so. 

"So, what've you been up to?" You amble over to the couch that's tucked away in the corner of her dressing room, plopping down onto the cushions with a small bounce. Rosé's flowers lay beside you, and Jennie eyes them. 

"Same old, same old," she says, finally looking back at you with a tiny grin. "Practice for the comeback has kept us really busy lately, and somebody hasn't been there to tell us jokes at 3AM and keep us going." She playfully rolls her eyes, pretending to be annoyed. 

"My most sincere apologies," you hold a hand over your heart in mock regret, bowing your head with closed eyes. "On the bright side, though, I'm back in town for next month or two. I finished the business deals we had to handle abroad, so now I'm all yours." 

She knows you didn't mean hers, but that doesn't stop her from pretending. 

A happy noise of approval slips past her lips, and she claps excitedly. The sight reminds you of some of the childhood videos she's shown you, the two looking eerily similar to one another. No matter what may happen in her life, Jennie will most certainly remain that innocent young girl at heart, getting scared by everything that moves and loving with her all. She's an amazing person to know, and part of you feels sorry for everyone who'll never get the privilege of knowing her personally -- after all, everyone deserves a Jennie Kim in their lives. 

"Are you celebrating with us later?" She asks from in front of her mirror, now brushing her hair to busy herself. She runs the risk of making her feelings too obvious if she doesn't keep herself occupied. 

"I was planning to, yes. But that might depend on Rosé." You inform with a nervous chuckle, an anxious smile playing on your lips. When you look up and find her brows furrowed, you elaborate. 

"I'm gonna try to ask her out today when I bring her these flowers." You lightly chew your bottom lip out of habit, rubbing your hands together. The mere thought of such a task is daunting, especially with your not-so-perfect track record when it comes to her. You still try to cling to what little hope you have squirreled away in your heart, wishing with all your power that your sweet present will convince Rosé to at least give you a chance. 

Distracted by your thoughts, you don't notice the way that Jennie's face falls. Her heart is breaking in silence, splintering into pieces far too small to put back together. She knew this day would come eventually, given that you're a determined person and head over heels for Rosé, but that doesn't mean she was prepared to find out like this. The lovesick glimmer in your eye hurts Jennie even more, knowing that you're probably imagining what it would be like for her to say yes to you. This whole time, Rosé has been stringing you along -- giving you just enough hope to keep coming back to her, using your devoted acts of kindness selfishly -- and Jennie would do anything to make you see that. You don't deserve what she puts you through. 

"...Earth to Jennie!"

The brunette snaps back to reality and clears her throat, attempting to gather her thoughts again. 

"Sorry, just got lost there for a second." She says, looking back into your eyes after a moment. A curious look plays in them, and she can practically see you debating on whether or not to question her further. She lets out a quiet sigh of relief when you accept her answer, choosing instead to smile at her. 

"It's alright. But what's not alright, is that I've been sitting here for 5 minutes and you haven't come over to cuddle me. I mean seriously, a girl's gone for forever and her best friend doesn't bombard her with love?" You shake your head with an amused smile, throwing your hands in the air. 

Oh, the things she would do to change that title. 

Successfully suppressing the pang of longing that runs through her, Jennie quips back, "A month and a half is hardly forever, Y/N." 

"It felt like it, though. I missed seeing you." 

She finds you pouting, your arms folded across your chest like a toddler, and her heart melts. Any amount of time without you is too long for Jennie's liking, and she's happy to know you missed her as well. 

"Fine, I guess I can spare some cuddles." She pretends to be put out as she approaches you, really playing the part by huffing and looking uninterested. Inside, though, she's celebrating. She can't wait to hold you close again, even if it may lead to her hurting herself with the what-ifs and scenarios that play in her mind. 

"Yay!" You shout, pulling her into your lap before laying your head on her shoulder. Her heart beats rapidly at the proximity, and she prays to every higher power in existence that you don't notice it. 

She relaxes after a moment, releasing the tension from her muscles as she sinks into your embrace. It's warm and comforting, and she never wants you to let go. Her head rests on top of yours, and she's content just running her hands through your hair, feeling your calm breaths against her skin. 

She's so in love it hurts. 

-----

This'll convince her, you whisper to yourself, attempting to sound confident -- key word: attempting. If there's one thing you know about Rosé, it's that she loves to be difficult with you. You caught feelings for her years ago when you were first introduced to each other at a company event, and ever since then you've done nice things for her nonstop, hoping that she'd fall for you with time. The longer you wait, though, the more discouraged you get. Regardless, those times that she appreciates your efforts make up for all the rest, and you'd gladly take 100 instances of the "bad" in order to have even just one of the "good". 

After taking a deep breath, you knock on the door a couple times.

A sigh can be heard, sounding like a complete 180 from the reactions of the other girls. The subsequent footsteps are heavy -- like she's dragging her feet, not even wanting to get up in the first place -- and they work to dishearten you a bit. Nevertheless, you imagine how happy she'll be when she sees the surprise, and a small smile makes its ways onto your lips. All you want to do is brighten her day, if only for a moment. 

An indifferent expression rests on her face when she first opens the door, likely expecting someone else to be standing in your place. Not much changes when she realizes it's you, though a sliver of a smile does quirk up at the corner of her lips. 

"Hiya Rosie," you greet sweetly, unable to contain how wide your smile grows at seeing her again. She makes you feel like a giddy school girl, and you can't decide if you love it or hate it. 

"What's up?" She asks, more out of common courtesy than anything else. Her body leans against the doorframe, her left arm resting behind the door. She didn't throw it open or invite you in like the other girls, so that tells you that she probably doesn't want visitors. 

When you take too long to answer, she asks dryly, "Are you just gonna stare at me?" Her voice is laced with a slight undertone of annoyance -- one that makes you shrink down a bit. You can practically hear how exhausted she is, and part of you feels bad for disturbing her with your presence. 

"N-no, sorry." You curse yourself for looking like a fool. "I got you something that I think you'll enjoy." Her eyebrows raise slightly and you can tell she's intrigued, even if she may try to deny it. 

"Here." You declare, nervously fixing the plastic as you hold the bundle in front of you. You want it to look perfect for her. 

"I, uh, hand picked it." 

"Thank you, it's lovely." She says politely, taking them from you and bringing them up to her nose. She admires the gentle, pleasant scent of them, and smiles appreciatively at you.

You blush under her gaze, slightly tripping over your words as you respond, "Of course, I'm glad you like it." 

Now, the part you dread: when the conversation dwindles down, threatening to end entirely unless you step up to keep it going. 

"Well, how've you been?" You cringe at the overused question, but you're willing to employ it in order to hear her sweet voice for a little longer. 

"Look, Y/N, I really appreciate the gift and all, and I'm really happy to see you again, but I don't feel like talking right now. I just want to enjoy myself for a little bit." Her denial makes you scrunch your face up, embarrassed beyond belief as her words sink in. You should've known that flowers wouldn't suffice. Perhaps that last line stung the most -- you try not to read too far into it, but the idea that she doesn't enjoy herself when talking to you nags at your heart. 

"Yeah, yeah. For sure." You scratch the back of your neck, awkwardly taking a step away from her door and back into the hallway. 

"I'll see you at the get together later though, right?" You ask, kicking yourself when you realize how hopeful you sounded. You have to get better at hiding it. 

"Sure," she nods, sending you a smile and little wave before saying goodbye and shutting the door. 

Well, that was a bust. Damn. Back to the drawing board, it is -- though your ego will need a few hours to recover. 

---

"Lisa, I swear to god, if you come near me with that I'll punt you across this room." 

Your very serious, totally-not-exaggerated warning evidently worked against you, because the maknae soon raises her head to look at you, grinning like a maniac. Frosting from the cake she just messily cut into covers her hands, looking threatening as she wiggles them at you. 

"I mean in!" You shout as a last resort, slowly backing away. You accidently bump into Jennie in the process, but you fail to realize that it was part of the plan all along: she and Lisa are in cahoots. When the maknae lunges, swiftly striding across the room towards you, you attempt to move out of her path and get somewhere safer. Steady hands on your waist keep you anchored in place, though, and you try to fight them. 

"Jennie?! Let me go, she's right there!" You squeal, trying to pry her fingers off of your hips one by one. She merely laughs, whispering a sorry into your ear right before Lisa's hands run across your cheeks and neck. You squirm, leaning further back against Jennie to evade the younger girl as she does her worst. 

Now, practically having a face mask of frosting, you step away from the girls and glare at them. 

"Bullies, I tell you." You say to Jisoo, groaning when she busts out laughing. It doesn't take a genius to know that you look a mess, and you'd probably laugh at yourself if the roles were reversed. The others soon join in, and a chorus of belly laughs fill the air around you. 

"Go ahead, laugh it up," you tell the girls, nodding your head, "Just wait til I get my revenge. I'm coming for you, Manoban." You point a finger at her as you exit the room, grinning when you hear the oooo's that they let out at your threat, and you make your way to the bathroom at the end of the long hallway before you.

On your way back, you hear Rosé's voice filtering in from one of the lounge rooms that branch off of the main corridor. Intrigued, you stop walking and listen in. 

Big mistake. 

Your ears perk up when you hear your name roll off her tongue, though her subsequent sentences crush your spirits. 

"...I know, right? She's honestly so annoying. Like earlier, I was finally getting cozy after our performance and then she just showed up."

Too shocked to leave now, you stay where you are and try not to let her words hurt you too much. She listens to the person on the other end of the line, laughing at something they said. That sound -- one you’ve grown to love more than anything else in the world -- is turning into something you hate. It feels like she's laughing at you; which, in hindsight, she probably is. 

"Exactly! She had flowers for me, as if I don't get those almost everyday already, and I guess she really thought that that would win me over. It was sweet but, c'mon, you know?"

Every insecurity you have is nagging at you, and you can't stop the few tears that roll down your cheeks at her brutal honesty. She's really hurting your feelings, and you can't help but want to call her out for it. So, you do just that: you step into the open room, one that lacks an actual door, and say, "Next time you wanna talk shit about someone, maybe you should make sure they're not around to hear it." 

Her smile falters slightly, and she spins around to face you. A hint of guilt plays on her features, but you're sure it's only because she got caught -- she definitely meant everything she said. 

"Y/N--"

You don't stick around to listen to what she has to say. Her change of behavior surprised you, and you can't trust that she's even sorry for it. 

Your pace quickens as you hear her voice become clearer -- she's in the doorway now, calling after you, but you don't even turn around. The salt of your tears greets your tongue, and you're once again reminded to wipe your face as you rush down the hall, rounding a couple corners and darting past countless doors on your way. You just want to get out of this place and be alone. 

A new voice slows your strides as it greets your ears, feeling like a security blanket in its gentleness. It's Jennie. "Y/N? Why are you crying?" She came to look for you when you took too long to return from the bathroom. 

You're far too embarrassed to look at her, so you simply sniffle and raise a hand up in her direction. "Don't worry about me, Jen. It's not important." 

"Hey, yes it is. You're upset and that matters." She steps towards you, saying the words that you had no idea you needed to hear so badly. Your heart aches, still shocked by the fact that Rosé would say such things about you. You thought you were friends, if nothing else, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now. 

When you don't move away, Jennie takes that as a sign to bring you into her arms, cradling your head against her chest. The kind act hurts your heart more for some reason, and you want to pull away. Jennie senses this and decides to rub soothing circles on your back, her warm embrace comforting you as she says, "I don't know what happened, Y/N, but I'm right here. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, either, but please don't leave like this. I hate to see you upset." 

Something about the way she's holding you, so close and tenderly, is comforting beyond belief and you can't find the desire to leave anymore. 

"Can we at least go to your dressing room? I don't want everyone to see me like this."

"Of course, sweetheart. Come on." 

Sweet phrases of reassurance are whispered to you as she leads you away, keeping you safe from prying eyes the entire time. Jisoo appears in the doorway of the party room, raising a concerned brow when she sees the two of you approaching. Jennie shakes her head at the unnie before she can utter a word, giving her a silent answer as she uses her eyes to communicate what's happening. Jisoo eventually understands, and she offers a sympathetic nod when you pass by.  

-------

7 Months Later

"Hey Jennie, do you think you can go answer the door? I'd do it myself, but…" Jisoo trails off, glancing down at the bowl of partially mixed dough that sits in front of her on the counter. Her hands continue to knead the mixture as she looks up at the younger girl, subtly sighing in relief when she agrees. 

There's more than one reason behind having Jennie be the one to answer it. 

The brunette grabs a pen as she pads her way over to the door, ready to sign for a delivery package -- that's usually the only thing they get at the dorm, considering guests are discouraged for the most part. Screw YG and their rules. 

Being a bit clumsy, Jennie accidently knocks her phone out of her own hand as she opens the door, muttering out a quiet “shit” as she bends down to retrieve it. Her eyes trail over to the stylish boots that set just a few feet away, and her breath hitches. 

"Hi baby." You greet with that healing smile that she's missed so much, peering down at her with a look in your eye that makes her heart trip and stumble over itself. 

"Y/N!" She shrieks, jumping up from the ground and right into your arms. 

"Uumph--" you let out in surprise, making sure to catch her and prevent her from falling. Ever since you two began dating a few months ago, leaving has become harder and harder. Jennie is beyond thrilled to have you back again, and she tries not to think about the next business trip you'll have to take. It's a methodical rhythm -- a month or two abroad and the same amount back home, then you're left to repeat the cycle over and over. Both of you hate it, and you'd much rather spend all your time with her instead. After all, ever since the incident with Rosé all that time ago, Jennie has steadily worked her way into your heart and become someone you can't live without. You were close before, but you've reached a new level now -- and that's about the only thing you can thank Rosé for. By hurting you and showing you how little she cared, she effectively pushed you right into Jennie's waiting arms.

"I'm so happy you're home." She says with a sigh, truly grateful to have you in her arms again. You wrap your arms tighter around her waist and sway a little bit, both of you content with just holding each other for a while longer. The weather outside is dazzlingly perfect; signs of summer apparent in everything around you. Birds chirp their looping songs as they fly through the air, feeling the sun's gentle heat on their wings all the while. 

You move your head enough to be level with hers, bringing her in for a long-overdue kiss. She smiles into it, cupping your cheek with one of her hands as she languidly moves to deepen it. 

Rosé should've stayed in her room. She should've ignored her stomach's incessant grumbling for a snack; but she didn't. 

She gave in, and now she's stuck, rooted in place as she watches Jennie kiss you, the one that got away. It's like watching a train wreck: she can't look away, and part of her psyche knows she deserves this. The apple in her hands is the only thing working to distract her, and she grips it tightly within her clutch to comfort herself. You look good -- so good -- and Rosé doesn't know whether to be happy or not. She knows she didn't treat you right -- then or ever -- but for some selfish reason that she doesn't dare give voice to, she wants you to still be hurting. She wants you to be suffering like she is now, crying into your pillowcase at night when she crosses your mind. She wants you to miss the good times, though there may not have been enough of them, and she wants you to want her again. 

You've turned the tables on her, and she doesn't know how to cope. 

She realized what she had once it was gone -- once you were gone, too busy falling in love with Jennie to pay her any mind anymore. She misses how devoted you were to her and how much care you put into everything you did; she misses the consistency that you offered; she misses every sweet thing you ever did for her. Hell, she even misses hearing you ramble and seeing you blush when all she did was smile at you. 

But you're gone now, destined to be with her member when all she wants is another chance. She'll never get it, certainly not after everything she's put you through, and she resents herself for treating you so badly. All you ever did was care, and she was too self-centered to give a crap. 

She deserves this. She deserves to see you happy with Jennie, happy in a way she could never make you. For you, she deserves to hurt; to silently cry in her room when she hears the two of you on call, laughing about whatever new thing you experienced that day. Because it wasn't just the one instance of pain she inflicted on you; it wasn't just that one night at the performance hall -- it was a steady build up of rejection and half-assed excuses, and even she can't blame you for getting tired of it. She wishes she hadn't been so stupid to deny you. 

What's worse is that she's actually fallen for you now; she imagines what could've been, what would've been, had she given you an honest chance. She's never tried to deny how gorgeous you are -- that's a given -- but now you're bruisingly beautiful, shining with the happiness that Jennie's worked hard to instill in you again. Shining with the love you hold for that 5'4" angel. 

Maybe, if circumstances were different, you'd be in Rosé's arms right now. Perhaps in another life. 

---

"Do you want to come in? Jisoo's working on some dessert for the lunch we just made. We can heat you up a plate in the meantime…" Jennie trails off, hoping to persuade you. She knows it's risky, considering the tension that feels almost tangible anytime the three of you are together, but she doesn't want to let you go so soon. 

"I don't know…" The uncertainty in your voice is clear, and Jennie watches as a slight grimace crosses your features when you look past her and into the dorm. Luckily Rosé had already found the will power to move to the dining room, so you're spared from seeing her just yet. 

"If things get weird or uncomfy we'll leave, okay? I promise." She says, knowing she's convinced you once you give her a little nod. 

"Okay. But I'm only doing this because I missed Jisoo's cooking." A playful glint shimmers in your eye as you quirk your head to the side, teasing her. 

"Hey!" She groans, pushing your shoulder as the two of you walk down the little concrete path that leads to the front door. "I'm kidding! I missed Lisa's jokes, too." 

You laugh at the gasp she lets out, and you make sure to turn around and press a kiss to her temple to stop her from pouting. 

--

"So, Y/N, where did you go this time?" Jisoo asks, leaning against the marble island of the kitchen as she pops a piece of tanghulu in her mouth. The crack of the sugary coating pulls your attention away from Rosé, where it had momentarily been -- she looks awful. Bags rest underneath her eyes, her normally vibrant features crestfallen now as her gaze scans across the food on her plate. 

You look at Jisoo as you answer her. "The states. We worked with some local companies and small businesses to get more promotional material out in front of people. It's actually pretty amazing, guys -- you're blowing up over there. They love you." The girls smile at your words, feeling a sense of accomplishment swell within themselves. Back when they were trainees they never imagined that they'd end up this far, and yet here they are, seeing their dreams come true, day after day. 

You're just happy to be along for the ride. It's not easy by any means -- people often crack under the pressure and get discouraged by the hustle and bustle of everything that such a major operation entails -- but you've never been more thankful for a position in your life. 

"As they should," Lisa smirks, looking self-assured with the little cocky motion she does. You almost choke on the piece of food you just stuffed in your mouth, laughing at how ridiculous she looks. 

After successfully not dying, you look at her and shake your head. "Lisa, what is wrong with you?" She puts on her infamous meme face, pretending to be shocked by your question, and you cackle again. The sound makes Rosé jealous; she wishes she were the one making you laugh like that. 

Another hour or so passes with the 5 of you just relaxing and snacking together at the table, taking turns trading stories and jokes in the meantime. After finishing your dessert and complimenting the unnie's cooking skills, you make your way towards the kitchen with a groan of, "I'm so full" thrown over your shoulder. 

You begin washing the dishes, finding it only fitting seeing as they spent all that time preparing such a good meal. It's the least you can do. A smile tugs at your cheeks when you hear the door open, followed by light footfalls against the hardwood. Jennie. 

Warm arms snake around your waist as she hugs you from behind, resting her cheek against your back. Your brows furrow when you notice an unusual thing -- either Jennie grew a few inches in the last 5 minutes, or someone else is holding you. Their cheek reaches a place Jennie isn't tall enough to, and it all hits you.

It's Rosé. 

You go to shut the water off and step away, but the sounds of her quiet sniffles give you pause. "Please don't." She whispers into your shirt, bunching the material up within her fingers against your stomach. A pang of sadness pulls against your heart strings, the long forgotten feeling reignited by the waver in her voice. "Rosé," you start with a sigh, ready to launch into the practiced speech of how happy you are with Jennie now and how you've moved on. She tugs at your shirt, slowly turning you around, and you can't find it in yourself to break her heart even further in this moment. Her eyes are filled with what tears have yet to stream down her face, brimming with the salty liquid you hate to see. 

Even after everything, you can't stand to see her cry. 

So, perhaps stupidly, you allow her to lean forward and rest her head against your chest; you let her fall into your arms, sinking into the embrace she never intended to miss so much. 

It was innocent. Completely, utterly innocent, but Rosé couldn't stop herself -- not when you were there again, right in front of her, looking so good it hurt. She wrapped her arms around your neck, pushing her lips against yours in a kiss you weren't prepared for at all. Her mouth moved quickly against yours, knowing you'd be shoving her away at any moment. But she was okay with being selfish again -- she needed you then, and you allowed her to keep kissing you until you realized what was happening. 

As you go to stumble away and put distance between the two of you, the door once again opens; only this time, it's actually Jennie. Her eyes immediately dart between the two of you as she notices how Rosie's hands are still holding you close, both of your lips swollen from the kiss. All at once you realize how the situation must look, and you begin panicking. You knew this was a bad idea from the start. 

"Jennie, no. I promise this isn't what you think." You shake your head, finally freeing yourself of Rosé's grip as you take a couple steps towards your girlfriend. She takes an equal amount back, scoffing lightly at the memory of the scene she just witnessed. 

"Yeah, okay," she says, sounding anything but convinced as she makes her way towards the door. You go after her, but she holds a hand up -- after knowing her for so long, you've learned that that signal means to give her some time alone. Both of you know you'll go after her again later, but she needs some time right now. As she leaves the dorm, the heavy sound of the door shutting is the only noise that cuts through the palpable tension. 

"How could you do that?" You ask, voice small, not even turning around to look at Rosé. You doubt that she's even sorry. 

She isn't sorry. At least, not for kissing you. It felt good to have you like that, and she doesn't regret it. However, from what angle of your face your side profile offers to her, she can see how upset you are. That's what makes her feel the slightest bit guilty for her timing. 

"I spent so much time trying to get you to notice me, and now you choose to do that? You're unbelievable, Roseanne-- I'm finally happy, and what, you want to ruin that?” She takes the blows as they come, staying quiet. “If you've ever cared about me at all then you'll stay away." You set your jaw, willing the tears to go away. You've wasted too many on her, and you'll be damned to look weak right now. 

"Y/N, I-" 

"No. Don't apologize when we both know you don't mean it. You've always been selfish, Rosé." You bite back, not caring if the words cut her down like her old ones always used to do to you. Earlier, before her little stunt, you were starting to feel sorry for her; clearly though, that was yet another mistake on your part. 

You leave without another word, praying that she doesn't further complicate the situation by following after you. Jennie is the only thing on your mind as you hop in your car, having an idea of where she might be.

--

"Jennie, no. I promise this isn't what you think." 

Your worried voice replays in her mind for the millionth time, further tormenting her. She's been cheated on before, so that phrase isn't a new thing to her. 

She was always afraid this would happen. She used to lay awake at night, overthinking as usual, wondering when the beautiful thing the two of you created would ultimately come crashing down. It was too good to be true, and she curses herself for foolishly believing any different. 

The better part of an hour passes by as she sits on the park bench, reminiscing on all the memories you've made here. The idea of ending things with you and starting over with someone else sinks in, and she hates the feeling. She only wants you -- she's only ever wanted you -- and the thought that things could really be over now hurts her more than she cares to admit. 

Your eyes scan across the park, ghosting over the playground equipment until they zero in on her, sitting near the fountain that you shared your first kiss. Such a sap, you smile bittersweetly. 

You ruffle through the plastic bag that sits in the passenger's seat, moving the receipt out of the way so that you can pick up what you're really after. Returning your hands to the steering wheel, you grip it while giving yourself a little pep talk before exiting the car. You press a kiss to the present in your hand for good luck, hoping this encounter will go well. 

Water spouts from the top of the fountain, the sound growing louder the closer you get to Jennie. Her back is turned to you, and for that you're thankful -- you're not quite prepared to see how she'll be looking at you. Now just a few feet away, you say, "Marry me."

You’ll do whatever it takes to show her how crazy you are about her.

Her head whips around, completely taken aback by your proposal. She thinks that there's no way you're serious, but when she looks down to find her favorite flavor of ring pop in your hand, her eyes widen. You're sick of wasting time, and seeing that she hasn't yelled at you or turned you away yet, you take advantage of the situation. 

"Marry me, Jennie," you repeat, taking small, careful steps towards her until you're right next to the bench. "She kissed me, but I tried to push her away. I told her that you're the only one for me." 

She blinks, taking in your words as she notices you nervously toy with the plastic wrapper of the candy. She knows you're telling the truth; you're a terrible liar, and you wouldn't be here right now if you didn't want her back. If you wanted to choose Rosé over her, you had the perfect opportunity to do so back at the dorm.

But you don't; you want Jennie, and now you're standing in the middle of your favorite park, proposing with a piece of candy to prove that to her. The things you do for love. 

"It just scared me, Y/N. Seeing her wrapped around you like that--"

"I know, baby. I know. But I promise I didn't want it, and it meant nothing to me. I'm so in love with you, Jennie Kim." 

She smiles at the dopey grin on your face, seeing how smitten you are. 

"Okay," she answers back, yet again looking at your hands. 

"Is that a yes?" You ask, slowly beginning to tear open the wrapper. 

"Yes, dummy. I'll marry you." She declares, nodding her head with a laugh at how slow you are sometimes. 

"Yay!" You shout, stepping forward to pick her up in your arms. You set her back down with a smile, slipping the ring onto her finger as your heart soars. 

Jennie kisses you, letting the action convey all the emotions she's been through in the past few hours. "I love you." She sighs, resting her forehead against yours. 

"I'd surely hope so, jagi," you smirk against her lips, giggling at the squeal she lets out when you playfully pinch her side. Her kisses are replacing all traces of Rosé, and she's comforted by the fact that you'll so adamantly choose her, everyday. 

With a smile, Jennie realizes something: never again will she be forced to dream of having you in another life -- her wishes came true, and now she'll have you in this one, always.

[stxleslyds]

MY TOUGHTS ON THE END OF RED HOOD BY CHIP ZDARSKY.

Dishonour! Dishonour on you, dishonour on your cow! 

Well Jason Nation, it happened again, fanon wins over canon. The amount of bullshit that DC made Zdarsky write in this issue is insane, I have never seen this many fanfiction tropes shoved in a single issue in my life.

This book has been a constant insult to Jason’s character and his Red Hood “persona” since the very first issue but I never thought it would end this badly. It’s incredibly sad.

I will go ahead and say it, this tumblr and this post is not “Batfamily” friendly and it definitely isn’t fanon friendly when it comes to Jason Todd.

Fanon is destroying canon for Jason Todd. I am sorry but that’s how I see it, fanon doesn’t belong in canon, I would never get tired of saying that. But here is the thing, DC latches on to Jason’s fanon version because it fits their narrative of “the Batman is all that is right and all must follow his rules or they shall disappear”.

DC has been dying to make Jason bland and flavourless just like Batman. And now here it finally is.

Let’s be honest the story in this book, the new drug, Cheer, Tyler and his mom, none of that shaped this story, none of those things were the support beams for it. It was all about this never ending “daddy issues” thing that DC pretends is going on between Jason and Bruce.

It was all about those two fighting because they “think differently” so in the end they can push Jason towards the “no killing rule” being also the Red Hood’s modus operandi.

Its utter bullshit.

From the moment that Jason had to put a bat suit on I knew that this was going to be a mess. Luckily like I predicted they didn’t make a big deal out of him wearing it but the “Jason admires Batman” feeling was very present in the issue.

I will not talk about how easy it was for that one thug to land a punch on Jason while he was distracted and I will also not talk about Jason being a dumbass for not securing his dumb mask better when he knew the fight will involve gases. I will not talk about it.

Anyway, let’s talk about the Cheer Gas induced illusion, shall we?

In Jason’s illusion he finds Bruce at the manor looking at the picture of Joker’s death (?) and even though that is strange what Bruce says next is even weirder, he says this: “I did it. He was the last one, but I did it…Joker is dead. I am done.”

Now what the hell was that? This is Jason’s illusion, and by the looks of it in his illusion Bruce has killed every baddie in Gotham and left the Joker for last? Am I reading that right? Is this this a joke?

I understand that this is an illusion so the gas is making “real” things that Jason probably doesn’t know he wants, like wanting Bruce to go on a killing spree, which Jason never wanted because he said it himself, do you guys remember the iconic “I’m not talking about killing Cobblepot and Scarecrow or Clayface. Not Riddler or Dent…I’m talking about HIM. Just him.” Because I remember and it’s so important to Jason’s character, Jason never wanted Bruce to go on a killing spree, he wanted Bruce to kill the clown who had killed him when he was only fifteen. Is that so hard to remember DC?

And then it gets worse! Since WHEN has Jason wanted a perfect family life with the people that he has tried to kill, harm or looked down to? Why is “being with a bunch of people who NEVER get together for anything other than “help” the Bat in a fight against a fucking clown” the idea of happiness to Jason? Has this man ever interacted with any of these people in a positive way without the intrusion of a Batman/Robin event in the way? I will give you the answer, it’s no, the answer is no.

Jason Todd doesn’t care for your “Batfamily” bullshit DC, why would it matter to him? Because he was Robin? He was killed by the Joker when he was Robin, and he was killed because the man in charge of him didn’t pay enough attention! Jason Todd who was written as Dick Grayson’s number one hater for so long (and fandom loves that) is now having an illusion where he enjoys happy times with him along the others? Cass and Stephanie? What? Am I missing something, is this actually AO3, is this fanfiction?

I think Zdarsky got confused, this illusion is what would happen if Jason were dosed with fear gas. That must be it, I solved it everyone! Zdarsky just got confused by his own writing!

I wish.

Let’s go back to the sad reality, Jason has a moment in which he actually puts all his training in motion and shakes of the gas’s grasp on him. He does that but he is grabbed by so many people (who are this people?) and he is unarmed and I believe that’s the only reason why Cheer is still alive after saying that he has someone in Tyler’s mom’s hospital room ready to kill her if he doesn’t join him.

(If this were the real Jason, Cheer would have dropped dead instantly.)

But this is not the real Jason and this is not a *real* comic, it’s fanfiction! So just like that time in Batman #100 when Dick was fighting alone as Nightwing (for the first time since his “family” left him alone after losing his memories) the rest of the “family” shows up to fight Cheer and four random thugs.

Yep, its like the MCU had considered having Cap say “Avengers Assemble” when they were fighting a couple of robots instead of Thanos.

What a mess.

Also having Jason say, in real life (not illusion world), “You know what happiness is? It’s knowing that others have your back.” about this group of people is the perfect recipe for a big OOC moment for absolutely everyone. I cannot believe they have dragged Jason back to this awful concept and that they have sank him so low. It’s quite honestly, disgusting.

But the horrors don’t end there, we have a wonderful moment after Jason gives Batman the antidote, Jason stops Batman from punching the living shit out of Cheer. Because I am not stupid. There is no way in the world that you can convince me that Jason just stopped Batman from killing Cheer.

How incredibly delusional do you have to be to write Batman finally killing someone and that someone being Cheer, a guy that was introduced to comics two months ago?

Yes, later its said that between the gas and the antidote Bruce was a little too crazy and couldn’t help himself BUT I call bullshit once more, because Bruce has gone completely bat-shit-crazy on people before! I remember two recent instances in which that happened. Batman #57 in which Bruce beats the living shit out of KGBeast after he shot Dick. And the other one is Batman beating up Jason more brutally than he ever beat up Joker in RHatO #25.

DC cannot fuck with me. I might has bought this digital comic for 8 dollars but I am not buying that bullshit.

ALSO, there was no need for Zdarsky to do Jason as dirty as he did him when he made him say: “If you are going to come down from mount judgement to MY level for once… he’s not the guy to do it for.”

Zdarsky, why did you write a Red Hood story when you hate Red Hood? Couldn’t you have just told DC that you wanted to write a love letter to Batman? Once again, I am reading a Red Hood story for RED HOOD content not Batman content. Is it really that hard? I bet that if Zdarsky had asked DC to let him write a Batman story they would have said yes, there are like 20 Batman stories, they wouldn’t say no to one more!

Can you tell I am mad? And salty?

This post is so long and so full of anger, I am truly sorry for that but I have to write these feelings down or I would explode. And I am not even done, our suffering, Jason Nation, continues.

But first a little break from the pain, Tyler. Thank you after all the pain this book has given me Tyler is back and just like I predicted his mom is fine and he will stay with her, they both have been given a place and money to rebuild their life (not given by Jason nor Dick but I was close enough). The only happy ending that Tyler could have, he had and I am thankful for that, we even got a little adorable moment between the Red Hood and the Blue Hood.

I am weak for these little glimpses of a good Jason take in the middle of an incredibly awful/OOC story. And just to live in my own fantasy world I will headcanon that Jason promised himself to keep an eye out for Tyler and his mom. He would have wanted to know about their life and that they are still out of trouble.

Jason is a good man, don’t you forget that DC, I don’t care how much you twist it. Jason killing Tyler’s dad wasn’t a horrible act, it was fair game. That man was a horrible person, he drugged his child and made his wife (?) almost overdose. You never gave context as to why that man was working as a drug dealer but you told us those things so Jason should never feel like he did something wrong. As far as we know, Tyler and his mom are better off without him.

Having said that, lets go back to the pain of what is reading a Red Hood story.

“I’m giving up the guns.”

You know what, fine, as long as DC doesn’t pull another “I will stop being Red Hood for you Barbara” I will be fine. He can kill people with other things, he used to have the all-blades, he had normal swords and he had crowbars.

I will sacrifice Jason looking hot as hell when he pulls out his guns just to keep him as the Red Hood, all DC has to do is not give him that stupid… bat… symbol… oh no…. oh my god I can feel it… that thing, that horrible thing is making a comeback! NO!

Jason and Bruce’s talk is basic and it doesn’t do anything for anyone, in the end saying that Jason isn’t changing his ways for Bruce but that he is doing it for himself is more of the same. We know he is doing it for Bruce and we know DC is doing it because they cannot handle good, complex and interesting characters. We know that and sadly we have to live with it.

About Bruce’s illusion, well, Bruce has said that he wanted to kill the clown for a very long time and in the King run it was basically said that if Bruce were to be happy then the idea of Batman would die.

Listen, between me and you, sometimes I think that the Joker isn’t that big of a problem for Gotham as a whole, that clown has beef with the Bat and no one else. If Bruce has killed the Joker Jason would have been happy with Bruce all those years ago but killing the Joker wouldn’t make Gotham a safe place and any of his kids happier.

Bruce needs to care for his children, but he won’t do that, he has Dick for that. Taking care and raising Damian? No, thank you, I will not do that. Giving a shit about my son who lost all his memories and is alone? No thank you, I won’t do that and then I will lie about having watched him over. Tim? Oh, never heard of him, sorry.

The last page of this story is the one of Jason arriving home and finding a new suit that Bruce gave him with the bat symbol on it. That symbol that he had ripped off of Jason’s beat up body back in RHatO #25 (nope, I am not letting that one go).

Oh, and Bruce leaving that suit in Jason’s home gives me the same exact vibes as the time that Bruce was like “Long overdue. This is where you belong. As one of us. One of the family” in Nightwing #74 a second after Dick had regained his memories.

I don’t know why but they make him sound incredibly cold and like these people are just his pawns that he needs to rope back in every time they get away from him. It’s very disturbing.

Anyway, that’s all from me, I obviously LOVED this book, best Jason Todd/Red Hood characterisation ever! 11/10 would recommend to everyone including my enemies!

🙃

[justkending]

The Number One Rule. Chapter 25.

Summary: Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left, but don’t worry the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Rogers (Steve’s little sister)

Word Count: 2300+

A/N: Ok this one is really cute and comedic. I thought seeing these two would be adorable as well as a great step into my next chapter! In saying that, the next one is either going to be the last or second to last! Thank you all once again for the undying support and love with this series:)

Chapter Twenty-Five:

“Thank you guys so much for babysitting tonight,” Wanda gushed as she ran around grabbing things last minute. “Vis and I have had very few moments to actually go out. Pietro was a huge help while he was staying here, but had to go back to training. Then mom and dad had some business back in Sokovia, so getting a second to breathe after 2 weeks of never leaving the house with these чудовище, monsters, has been near to impossible.”

“Wanda, really no worries at all. I promised I’d help you guys out, and,” Y/N paused as little Tommy squealed in joy in her arms. “That’s a promise I am glad to keep.”

“You say that now, but wait until their moods change. We had them crying for a total of 5 hours straight yesterday. Changing the diapers, bottles, pacifiers, non-stop rocking, nothing worked,” she huffed, grabbing a light jacket for the spring air outside. 

“Darling, I believe we are supposed to be convincing them to stay, not scaring them away,” Vis said, coming out of the room with a soft smile. 

“Right, right,” Wanda chuckled bashfully. “They’re a breeze,” she tried to quickly offset. 

“A little late on that cover Wands,” Bucky chuckled, standing with Billy in his arms as he rocked him back and forth. 

“It’s fine, you guys,” Y/N laughed looking up at Bucky as he started making faces at the little guy in his hands. “I babysat all through highschool, and nannied overseas to make some money on the side. This isn’t anything out of the ordinary for me,” Y/N reassured. “Plus, Bucky seems to be doing great by the looks of it.”

“I’ve been holding him for 5 minutes,” Bucky said, never breaking his eyes from the baby. As if if he were, it would combust if he didn’t pay attention and it would be on him. 

“I’ll make sure we’re fine,” Y/N laughed. “Now you two get out of here before I kick you out and lock the doors so you’re forced to enjoy your evening.”

“Ok, ok!” Wanda put her hands up in defense. She moved, grabbing her purse and Vision grabbed the keys. “Bedtime is at 6:30, if you can get them down. If not, the sound machine really helps. A bottle before bed luckily is the one saving grace for us, as it has yet to fail but once in getting them to knock out. Oh, and-”

“Wanda, dear. I think they have it under control,” Vis chuckled, putting his arm on her shoulder. “We really shall go before they give our reservation to someone else.”

“Ok,” she sighed, going back to the boys. “Mommy loves you two. Be good and don’t scare these two off. They may be our only hope in having nights out again.” She gave each of the boys a kiss on the forehead getting a coo from each of them in Y/N and Bucky’s arms. 

“Don’t hesitate to call if anything happens. Emergency numbers are on the fridge, including doctors and neighbors. But knowing this one,” Vis pointed to the redhead who was double checking everything around her to make sure they were set. “Our phones will be on loud and we will be picking up within 2 seconds of you calling.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Y/N laughed before shooing them out of their own house. Eventually succeeding and joining Bucky back in the living room where he hadn’t halted his rocking with Billy still happy in his arms. 

“Why do babies go to bed so early? I never understood that,” he noted, slowly moving to sit on the couch as delicately as possible. 

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked with a laugh, repositioning Tommy to one arm and moving toys on the counter around while also moving the bouncy seat over to her spot on the couch with the other arm. 

“How do you do that?” Bucky asked, impressed with how easy she made holding and working around a baby look.

“Do what?” she hummed, finally sitting by him and placing Tommy in the rocking seat. 

“You just grabbed a heavy form of equipment and a 2 month old baby while also reorganizing a table full of toys,” Bucky nodded his head. His arms around his twin tight to make sure no harm could come to him. 

“It’s called having done this more times than I could count,” Y/N laughed. “And as for going to bed early, babies literally only sleep, poop, eat, and cry. They tend to go to sleep early on their own so it’s just working around their sleep schedule on finding a bedtime.” 

“Ok, but if all these parents complain about waking up early with their kids, why don’t they put them to bed later?” Bucky asked. 

“I don’t really know. I’m sure there’s some science and routine behind it, but I’ve never really had a kid of mine own, so I couldn’t tell you,” she joked as she watched Tommy gurgle with his spit in the chair. She grabbed a blanket and wiped his lips, getting a giggle out of the little boy. 

“Do you want kids of your own?” Bucky asked a little more timidly. 

She turned over to him and smiled. “I do. I would love some little monsters of my own.”

He couldn’t help the lovestruck look on his face as he watched her go back to Tommy as he babbled to her. 

Don’t get him wrong. He had thought about it before in the past, but hearing her confirmation meant something else. Seeing little mini-Y/N’s running around made his heart warm. I mean, he had witnessed a little Y/N himself growing up and though she was a handful, she was a cute little stinker. Then you add in the fact he could be part of that equation… Well, it made his heart practically melt inside. 

“What about you?” Y/N asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

“With my special someone? Yeah, no second thoughts about it,” he grinned at her as she started making faces at the baby. He laughed with Tommy at her before she looked back and relaxed into his side. She looked over and down at Billy who was falling in and out of sleep himself. 

“You’re pretty good at this you know,” she remarked. 

“I haven’t moved besides sitting down. I don’t think you can mess anything up doing that,” he laughed. 

“Oh, trust me. You can. You’d be surprised just how picky babies are about every little detail and movement,” she laughed, placing a kiss to his cheek.

“We only have really an hour of them being awake before we put them to sleep and relax until Wanda and Vis come home,” Bucky took a breath, leaning his head on top of hers that was on his shoulder. 

“Please tell me you’re not that naive with babies. You do realize just because we put them to sleep doesn't mean they’ll stay like that,” she giggled. 

“I know, I know,” he laughed with her. “But I’m hoping for the best.”

_________

Well, the best did not happen. It took less than 45 minutes after that comment before the boys decided to do an Act 2 of their crying scene that Wanda described earlier.

“I don’t know what to do,” Bucky groaned, bouncing in a harsh manner with his knees as Tommy cried in his arms. Y/N was across the room in the kitchen making bottles with Billy crying as well, but not near as loud, in her arms. 

“No one ever does. We just have to pull out all the tricks and one of them works!” she yelled from the other room. Quickly she ran in with the bottles, one already propped under her chin feeding Billy who was now content, and the other she was handing off to Bucky who was scared to adjust to one hand with a baby in his arms. 

When he did give Tommy the bottle though, the baby kept moving his face away from the nipple. 

“I don't think that’s the trick for this one,” Bucky said in defeat. 

“Here let me see,” Y/N said, trying to feed it to himself. 

“Wait,” Bucky said, pausing his bouncing. “Do you smell that?” 

“What-Oh…” Y/N noticed. The two scrunch their nose in sync. “It’s diaper duty time.”

“I’ve never been on diaper duty…” Bucky replied softly, fear clear in his eyes. 

“You’re about to learn today then,” she said with a wicked smirk. “Here, you take Billy and I’ll take Tommy. I’ll show you how to do it, and then next one is on you.”

“There’s not way I can opt out of it?” Bucky tried to joke as he followed behind her with a face of disgust from the smell. 

“It’s funny you think that’s an option,” Y/N remarked before turning a corner. 

Once in the boys room and at the changing table, she set a crying Tommy down and started unbuttoning his onesie and noticed they had a bigger issue than they had hoped.

“Oh God,” she gagged some. Bucky hadn’t looked at the damage since he was just coming in the room with a newly adjusted baby in his arms. 

“What? Wha- Oh God,” he repeated. “Ho-What-How do you fix that?” he pointed at the now laughing baby on the changing table. 

“Well, what we have here Bucky is a classic case of a blow out.”

“A blowout?”

“A blowout.”

“What’s the solution?” Bucky questioned, pinching his nose with the same hand that was propping the bottle into the other twin’s mouth. 

“Well, I would tell you but instead, we’re going to have to use a hands on form of assessment,” Y/N laughed, motioning him over, which he hesitantly did. “Little stinker here thinks this is funny, don’t you?” Tommy laughed in response. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Ok, you stand here to make sure he doesn’t move around in it much more, and give me Billy.”

“I think I prefer the clean baby,” Bucky hesitated. 

“Bucky, I’m putting Tommy down so we can clean Billy up together. It’s easier with the method I’m using,” she chuckled, switching positions with Bucky. 

“Oh God, it’s everywhere. How is it everywhere?” Bucky covered his nose as he held Billy from rolling in his own mess. 

“Like I said, a classic blowout.” Y/N put Tommy in his crib who was luckily already getting sleepy for the night and went down easily while they took care of the other twin. “Ok, pick him up and let’s go to the bathroom.”

“Bathroom?” Bucky asked. 

“Yes, bathroom. This is going to be a heavy duty diaper duty,” she laughed. “Now grab him big macho man. Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little bit of poop.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Bucky stuck his tongue out at her. 

She laughed before heading off to the bathroom herself. 

“Ok, but really. Not that I can’t handle it, but I’d rather not get crap on me little guy. Try not to wiggle,” Bucky took a deep breath before going in. 

So heavy duty clean up involves taking the shower head off of the wall and just completely hosing down the baby like a dirty dish plate apparently. And in the process, with him being a little boy, there was also a round of pee coming out like a jet stream. 

Lucky for the two, they didn’t get in the line of fire, but that doesn’t mean the surprise didn’t end up with them getting almost as wet as little Billy.  After that, he was a happy baby and took a bottle with ease. 

The two boys ended up settling completely asleep right at 6:45. Just over 15 minutes of their normal bedtime. 

So, a little wet, very exhausted with just an hour of fun twin festivities, and with the baby monitors on and showing a live feed, Bucky and Y/N collapsed on the couch.

“I bet you the spy’s who do fight scenes for hours on end in movies, can’t do that,” Bucky groaned. Y/N laughed as she fell into his lap. 

“I don’t think they could,” Y/N agreed. 

“How the hell do Vis and Wanda do that all hours of the day?” he sighed deeply, moving his hands to her hair to wipe it off of her face in reflex. 

“It’s not always like that, but I do agree. That is some exhausting stuff.”

“Still want monsters of your own?” Bucky teased. 

She paused before answering and looking up at Bucky. He noticed the silence and looked down at her. 

“When it’s your own kiddos, it’s a whole different kind of mess. One that you’re a lot more willing to endure.”

He smiled at her sweet notion and ran a thumb down her cheek. 

“I guess you’re right about that,” he grinned. 

“Although,” she huffed, getting comfortable as she laid her head in his lap. “I can gladly wait a few more years before I add that kind of chaos to my life.”

“I think I can concur with that,” Bucky chuckled, slumping back in his stance. “Hey when you’re ready to move again, want to put on a movie?”

“Always.”

They sat like that taking a second to breathe in the calm. Before Bucky broke it. 

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah, B?”

“I love you, you know that right?”

She sat up some and actually sat in his lap now. She leaned her forehead on his and smiled as they both closed their eyes at the intimate gesture. Their intimate gesture. 

“I know Bumble Bee. I love you too.”

(The tags for this series are closed. If you would like updates, please turn on my notification:)

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[vkelleyart]

Thoughts on fandom: inclusion and engagement.

(Art credit to the kindhearted @penpanoply​!)

There’s been some stuff floating around on Tumblr about strife in the CO/WS fandom, and though I haven’t been explicitly named-dropped on anything public, my DMs have been... active. lol Rather than rehash what’s been said already, I just want to impart a little wisdom and perspective in the hopes it may soothe frayed feelings and offer a way ahead for cultivating a respectful community. As someone who has been an active participant in online fandoms since the mid-’90s, which was the advent of online fandom content creation (shout out to my fellow X-Philes!), and who has also spent a chunk of her professional life managing social media for the federal government and for activist groups, I can promise you it’s all gonna be okay.

Here’s some context for why strife happens and what we can do to create a more inclusive and communicative fandom environment. 

1) It sounds cliché, but fandoms go through growing pains. 

In the case of the Simon Snow fandom, what was once a small and cozy space untouched by cataclysmic events (such as the release of *gasp* a sequel) has grown exponentially in a relatively short amount of time following the release of Wayward Son. Newcomers are eager to find a home in this space at the same time as folks who’ve been here a while may be consciously or unconsciously wary about widening their circle, and It’s important to remember that this is not necessarily an expression of bad behavior on either side but just human psychology doing its thing. 

The byproduct, however, is that tension and stress builds over time from the lack of meaningful communication across the divide, which subsequently fuels misunderstandings. Ironically, the interfaces we use to communicate don’t help with this because any existing communication about the tension happens in tiny vacuums until a trigger goes off and bad feelings go public. 

Way Ahead: These moments of destabilization are opportunities to see where we can be more self aware about how we engage with fandom and the kind of community we want to be. Can you promote, support, or befriend someone trying to gain a foothold? If yes, please do! Each person must reach their own decision about what they can do within the confines of their available energy, health, and time, but a little self awareness goes a long way as long as you’re honest with yourself and others if applicable about what you can contribute. Anyone who judges you for it isn’t worth the strife.

2) In a fandom comprised of vulnerable/marginalized people, it’s more accurate to say that cliques are “bubbles of trust.”

This one's important. Just by nature of the source material, the CO/WS fandom includes fans with a wide array of backgrounds and experiences, especially when it comes to those who identify with the characters’ queerness, mental illness, and/or trauma. I really believe––based on individual conversations/group chats––that the difficult lived experiences that so many of our fandom peers have endured has produced one of the most open, aware, and accepting fandoms I’ve had the pleasure of participating in. Our vulnerability is, in a real way, our strength.

That said, a community of survivors also has the side effect of cultivating small circles of engagement that I call “bubbles of trust.” When you’re a survivor of abuse, marginalization, mental illness, fill-in-the-blank, it’s often quite hard to risk casting a wide net and expanding your circle to include new faces––which can subsequently be internalized by equally sensitive and vulnerable newcomers as rejection, judgement, or inadequacy.

Way Ahead: First of all, there may indeed be gatekeeping and exclusion going on. But before internalizing someone’s cagey behavior as gatekeeping or purposely exclusionary, ask yourself if you have all the information. Many people are private (I include myself in this assessment) because life has regrettably taught them to be this way, and so they may insulate themselves to a small group of people who have earned their trust. Some people might also triggered by certain content (case in point: smut triggers my anxiety) so they don’t engage with it. Others might have something in their pasts that define how they handle certain subjects (for example, a person of color should not be tone policed for getting angry when confronted with a racialized microagression, however accidental it was). You just don’t know what you don’t know. 

The solution here is to regularly check your privilege and ask questions in a private space if you sense you’re being treated unfairly by someone. If you go public with your grievances in hopes of mobilizing the mob, you may accidentally find yourself stepping into the role of the aggressor instead of the victim.

3) Social Media is not built to help you get engagement. It’s built to help itself make money off of you.

Repeat after me: Hits/likes are not a measurable indicator of talent or worth. There are ridiculously talented folks on Tumblr and elsewhere who, for whatever reason, haven’t had their viral moment, and it’s not their fault. Loads of factors come into play where things like likes, reblogs, and comments are concerned, among them being posting frequency, subject matter, the time of day, the day of the week, the week of the month, the month of the year, the current administration, the stock exchange, the concentration of middle class users, who just won the Superbowl, a madman trying to steal an election and undermine the democratic process, a PANDEMIC, do you get where I’m going with this?? lol

At the end of the day, my humble successes have been helped along by good luck, good timing, high profile signal boosters, and an absurd amount of work. (This is why I try to signal boost new work whenever I get a chance over at @vkelleyshares.) 

So while you cannot control Tumblr’s interface, trends at large, or your fellow users, here’s what you can do to ensure you give your work the best possible chance of exposure.

Have an image ready to go with your post. Tumblr is a visual platform (no matter what it says about being good for text). Not good with images? Set up a Canva.com account and get access to free graphic software with a gazillion templates to create whatever attractive image you want to attach to your post.

Keep the outward facing text brief and easy on the eyes. Too long and eyes will glaze over. Put excess text behind a “read more.”

You may think you’re being cute when you do this, but don’t put yourself down in your posts. (Don’t put yourself down in general, of course.) Doing so acts as engagement repellant. If you don’t believe in your work, no one else will.

Related: Be your best cheerleader. Confidence is a magnet, and if you don’t have it, go ahead and fake it until you start to convince yourself you are worth the buzz. So promote yourself! You have gifts that only you can impart. Use that knowledge to fuel everything you do from your art/fiction writing to your outreach with other content creators, and by golly, if someone’s done it already, acknowledge that contribution and then tell the world that this is YOUR unique take on it.

Treat your fellow fandom creators as human beings, not art/fiction/content boosting machines. I cannot count how many times I’ve had folks slide into my DMs with offers of friendship only to disappear once they realize I’m not available to draw a picture for their fic. It hurts because it’s manipulative and it makes me want to hole up and not signal boost anyone. Creators who truly support each other will not give off a transactional vibe. I want to help you reach more people, but not if that’s all I’m good for in your eyes. 

The long and short of it: Lead with compassion, do your best with the opportunities at  your disposal, and remember that fandom belongs to everyone in it. ❤️

What saves a fandom made of sensitive and vulnerable souls from imploding when it goes through growing pains is radical compassion from those who can offer it. Begin with the assumption that your fellow fandomers are not trying to harm you, and wade into the water knowing that your insight into the lives of your peers is limited by default and you may need to temper your words or actions accordingly. If you’re a content creator, save compassion for yourself as well, as there are indeed challenges to gaining an audience, and lack of engagement does not mean you lack talent or skill. Be your best advocate, and if you have the bandwidth to lift up a fellow creator and make a new friend, please, go ahead do it! 

And finally, fandom belongs to everyone, and no one has a monopoly on characters, tropes, or themes. Create and consume what you love (with respect for your more vulnerable peers), and bask in the variety, my friends!

That’s all I’ve got in my head at the moment, although I’m sure there’s more I’m forgetting. Thanks so much to @penpanoply for letting me use her art for this and to everyone else, hang in there and try not to judge each other too harshly. These are unprecedented times, and most of us are doing our best in circumstances that are pushing us to our limits. 

As always, if you have questions or want to sound off on anything, shoot me a message or an ask, or ping me on Discord. It might take me a second to respond (thanks, Covid) but I’ll get to it! Love, love, and more love to all.

[whump-town]

You Worry Me

Pairings: Emily & Hotch

Summary: college au things, Hotch checking himself into a mental hospital for the weekend

Warnings: child abuse, mental health struggles, abuse, suicide attempt, drugs, alcohol

When Emily asked him if he wanted to get an apartment with her she had expected far more hesitation than what she was met with. It’s not that she doesn't have other people to ask but when she really has to think about it he’s the only person she wants around like that. She’s content with his silence and his strange but enrapturing bouts of… oddness. She’s already thrown up in front of him (bad stomach flu she refused to admit was as bad as it was) and stood guard so he could pee behind a dumpster when they’d walked to the store at midnight for cigarettes and energy drinks.

She finds the courage to ask him on the front lawn of campus, stretched out on their backs ignoring their work and just photosynthesizing. Closing their eyes in silent enjoyment as spring tries to peek through winter's tight grip. When she turns to look at him the words just come tumbling out and she waits for his reaction. She’s not sure why she’s expecting anything other than that predictable crooked smirk but it still shocks her. He turns his head, lifting his arm to shield his eyes as he does so. Mostly, he just wants to know where he came in the line-up. How many people told her no before she came to him?

The honest answer is none but she smirks and tells him four and he laughs that deep goofy laugh that he does and she doesn’t know why she was nervous he’d say no. With a tired sigh, he nods and that’s all it takes-- they’re sharing an apartment.

He carries her clothes up to their floor, leaves her the pillows and her comforter for her to drag up. He’s exhausted by the time he’s got her things sitting on her bedroom floor but goes down to the beaten old pick-up truck his mother let him borrow to get his own things. Informs her with one of those long crooked fingers to worry with her own things and leave him to get his own. She resigns herself to listening but only because she’d seen his load and knew her help wouldn’t really quicken the whole six, small, boxes he has.

On his third trip she’s had enough and with a dramatic sigh she shakes her head and stands right in the doorway to his room. “No,” she says, crossing her arms. “No, I refuse to believe this. There’s no way you’ve read all these books.” She’s watched him carry three boxes of books into this apartment and not just boxes with things like thrown in he’s got them stacked to take up as little room as possible in these boxes. They’re heavy, he’s sweating and they keep coming.

With a sigh he leans down and sets the box currently in his arms down on the floor. “I read,” is his very complex answer. Aaron Hotchner has a way with words and she’s come to know that well. He shrugs, pushing at the hair slicked with sweat against his scalp. “I have read them… all of them.” Most of them more than once.

Books are the only thing he’s ever had. When he’d packed up for college all of the room had been taken up by these books. His clothes fit into one box but the books, he made room for the books. Every year, for as long as he can remember, his mother would buy him a book for his birthday. He got a job in town to have money to buy books to try and stifle his insatiable hunger (and his up-and-coming smoking habit).

She looks down at the box he’s just placed down, sighing when she sees that atop a pair of jeans there’s another book. Sherlock Holmes, she recognizes easily, and she shakes her head. “You know,” she steps out of his way and he heaves the box back up with a grunt. “My mother asked if I thought you’d kill me.” He falters mid-step but doesn’t stop. Carries the box to the others and sits it down heavily. He turns and finds her watching him with that quizzical, intuitive frown of hers. “You’re big but I think I could take you.”

He huffs at that, shaking his head and sliding past her so he can get his other boxes. She has no worries about him hurting her and strangely she hadn’t even considered that he might hurt her until her mother had mentioned it. Besides, she knows just enough to never truly worry. He’s the boy who vomits when he gets angry - if he shouts he’ll end up curled around the toilet shaking with a fever. He’d never hit a soul and if he did, she can only imagine the penance his body would conjure up as punishment.

But he huffs and she hears it.

She jumps on his back as he’s setting his box down on the ground. He moves just a little, stumbling under their combined weight. “Emily,” he warns, doing his best to not react. He knows how she is. She wants him to get rough, to hook his arm under her leg and yank her around. If he acts unbothered she’ll leave him alone. She’s far too much like having a little sibling around again - a sobering and, yet, comforting notion.

She does get bored and quickly. “I’m gonna go see Eric,” she informs him, slipping down off his back. He grunts and it’s just the wrong sound and she falters for a moment. Aaron’s met Eric and she’d thought they got along well but… she’s started to second guess that a little more every time she mentions either to the other. “I’ll be back this afternoon,” she adds apprehensively. Catches on to move the conversation on and away from the subject of her boyfriend but she still finds herself hovering by his doorway. Chewing her lip and anxiously asking, “do you mind if I bring Eric Wednesday?”

He just looks down at the box he’s sorting through, back turned to her. He shakes his head, sighing, “I don’t care what you do Emily.” He does care, deeply, but he looks back at her for only a brief moment. Sad brown eyes begging with her to not push, to not make him talk about this more.

With a nod, the conversation is over.

Wednesday night he smokes the pot that Derek passes to him without a second thought. It’s been burned down to the last few puffs, the heat from the lit end burns his fingers tips but he still puts it to his lips. Pulls from what little remains of the blunt as if it’s oxygen itself, a mask over his face meant to level him out. Maybe it will. The heat sinks down into his lungs and he ends up doubled over, spit drooling over his lips. Laughter bubbles up around him and a hand rubs at his back, Emily, he knows but only by the way that her perfume stings his nose he tries to breathe through the assault.

“Give it here before it burns out--”

Emily takes the blunt from his fingers and passes it to Eric. He’s an asshole and they all hate him but they love Emily and if they want her around then they have to deal with him. It’s safer to have him here, where they can watch him. He won’t dare hurt her in front of them -- but is that not what he’s doing when he leaves bruises across her face like constellations? Sends her back to them so that they can dab makeup over the Milky Way and breathe reassurances over Orian’s Belt when she falls into a hug.

Emily pulls him back upright, guides his head to lilt to the side as he sags against her. He can feel Eric’s fingers near his collar, the possessive hand he keeps on Emily at all times. A silent reminder of the power he holds over them all. Emily kisses his temple, oblivious to the mental war happening on both sides of her.

Derek reaches over and smacks his thigh, and encouraging little maneuver he means to comfort Aaron with. Aaron has checked out, arms too heavy to push away from all the touching. Can’t worm out of Emily’s arms or Derek’s comforting hand on his leg. He feels nothing past the tip of his nose. Not Emily’s bones underneath his cheek, her body carved down by Eric’s harmful comments about her weight and the coke he supplies like it’s a love language. Not Derek’s hold on him, the fear he can’t express but feels deep within his churning stomach, that Aaron’s slipping away and they’re all just bystanders to his eventual suicide.

Thursday night he’s woken up by Emily sneaking into his room, the soft click of a glass of water being sat down on his nightstand and the clatter of pills finding their way beside it. She presses her fist into his sternum, applying pressure where he feels like he’s coming unraveled. It’s like her hands are grasping his strayed ends, holding him together like a shredded kite until she can pull the fabric halves back together. “Okay,” she breathes, failing to provide him with steeled calm. His heart is beating so hard against her hand she’s afraid to let go. Her understanding of medicine is narrowed to just knowing you’re not supposed to put a bandaid on a burn. Kids can still have heart attacks, maybe not the over-worked, a little heavy-set dad kind caused by blocked arteries but he’s got the stress level and something certainly isn’t right.

He wakes up alone, doesn’t remember when she left or if she came at all. His only clue is those pills sitting in the perspiration of the now lukewarm water on his nightstand. He can’t move just yet, force his hand out to obtain the pills but he’ll wake up again in a pain-filled haze moved only by such intense pain that he fears sitting still another moment will rip him in half. The pills are slimy as they sit on his tongue and leave their bitter medicine laced into the gulp of water he manages. He’ll turn back over onto his side, pull his knees to his chest, and hope he doesn’t throw them back up.

He writes an essay in the haze of the Rizatriptan six hours later. His brain is only half-working, thoughts jumbled together or not there at all. The migraine lingers, fingers made of cotton muffling the world in a spirling nothing. It’s a similar feeling to being high, the haze is just too much but he has to write this paper because his professor won’t give him another extension -- he would if he knew Aaron needed one but he’s already asked once so he won’t do it again.

Friday the panic sets in.

Everyone is watching him.

Nobody likes him.

Why is he here?

Starfished out on a picnic blanket, Emily is spending her Friday out of the apartment. Armed with a water bottle filled with Vodka, a quilt, and a cooler full of popsicles they stumble their way through the unplowed field behind campus. Spencer hates the bugs and he holds tightly to Emily’s belt, making sure to step where she does as they trample through the too-high grass. Like broken dolls, they fall onto the quilt, familiar with one another enough not to care how they land in the tangle of limbs.

“Emily?”

She hums, not opening her eyes. The sun will remain stubbornly risen for a few more minutes and until it sets she’s trying to soak in every second of its warmth. Until it falls behind the trees and they’re bathed in the moonlight.

“Do you want a drink?”

She opens her hand, holding it up in the general direction of Derek’s voice. The water bottle finds her palm, slightly warm from sitting in the sun and in their laps as it makes its rounds. It feels oddly light but she doesn’t comment. The vodka stings down her throat but it’s familiar and it’s nearly as warm as the sun itself falling down her body.

“Where’s Hotch?”

She passes it to Penelope before laying back down, closing her eyes. “His psychiatrist put him on -” suddenly she can’t remember what it’s called. “Clom-something --”

Spencer looks up, understands this is a place for him to jump in. He feels overwhelmed with his excitement as he helpfully adds, “clomipramine! It’s a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, SSRI is the short-hand. It increases levels of serotonin in the brain.” He shifts himself, turning closer to them and away from where he’d been watching the blanket's edge for potential bugs trying to crawl near him. “It has the same side-effects as most SSRIs: drowsiness, intestinal upsets, decreased libido, changes in appetite--”

“Woah!” Derek sits up, suddenly paying attention. His eyebrows are scrunched together, alarmed. “He can’t… He won’t be able to like get it up?” He looks at Spencer and then at Emily. “That’s what libido means, man. How’s not being able to have sex going to help him not get all… gummed in the gears? Stuck in his head?” Aaron’s having a hard enough time, it hardly feels like ruining his sex life is the solution to that.

Spencer shakes his head, trying to understand how they’ve moved from facts about antidepressants to Hotch’s sex drive. “What?” If he took a second to think about it, he’d be blushing too hard to even bother with that statement. “No, the brain--”

“Spence,” Emily warns softly. Hotch might not be here to stop them from talking about his sex life but she is and she doesn’t want to talk about it. Besides, it’s none of their business. They’ve seen how bad things can get. “Hotch is basically a nun,” she reminds them. And it’s true. Before anyone diagnosed him, before he even knew something was wrong he wasn’t nearly as adventurous as her or Derek. “He didn’t come today because despite the--” she motions at Spencer.

“The clomipramine,” he supplies.

“Yes, the that, it doesn't work. He has a new psychiatrist, though, and he wants to run through some old stuff again.” She shakes her head, “a stronger dosage and a better plan. I don’t know, I guess we’ll know in another month. He’ll either end up in the hospital again or he’ll be fine.” She shrugs, “right now he’s locked himself in his room.”

There’s a low murmur of understanding and Spencer’s eyes go back to the edge of the blanket. They all remember what happened the last time he had to change medications. Emily had called JJ, the dead of the night making their intensely private and scary conversation seeping with the darkness’s own mixed intensities. Aaron had taken some bad drugs from a guy he didn’t even know, stumbled home, and passed out in his and Emily’s apartment bathroom. Where she found him seizing, choking on his vomit.

They didn’t and couldn’t see him for seventy-two hours, the mandatory hold from the hospital because they ruled it an attempted suicide and Aaron didn’t even try to put up a fight and say it was something else.

Friday night when she stumbles home he isn’t there.

His room is empty -- bedsheets are thrown back as if he left in a rush and his desk lamp still on. She feels that fear sink back into her, throat tight and mind racing, but the bathroom door is open, his pills still meticulously organized in the cabinet over the sink. Even his toothbrush is in the dish. So wherever he is, he won’t be gone long. She stills warns the others, asks them to look out for him or to, at the very least, expect his imminent arrival.

Derek offers to drive around and look for him.

Emily lets him do it, give him something to do -- he would have done it even if she told him it was unnecessary. She’s fairly certain she knows where he is.

Sure enough, she gets the call Monday morning at 7:30.

He does this every once in a while. As often as he can without them enforcing a longer hold, without it going on some sort of record that might prohibit getting a job. She doesn’t really understand why. He hates the mental hospital. Complains that it’s freezing cold and he hates the entire function and yet, here she is spending her Monday morning picking him up. This makes only about the fourth time since she’s known him but how many times has he just made the decision to walk? How many times hasn’t he called her to pick him up?

“You have got to stop walking here.” She rolls the window down first, shouting out at him as she pulls to a stop. He looks better than he had Friday morning when she invited him out to the field with the rest of them. She’d barely managed to get him to sit up, feeding pills between his pale lips, and then pulling his blanket back up over his shoulders. Shutting the blinds and leaving him a glass of water. Maybe she should have just offered to take him then, she’d known with hindsight this is where he would be.

He opens the backdoor without saying a word, crawls into the backseat, and curls up across the seats. He’s wearing a sweatshirt they must have given him, shoes not even on just held by the tips of his curled fingers. They land with a thud on the floor and all the response she gets is a pair of grippy socks landing on her passenger seat, the wordless thanks for picking him up… again.

“Class or home?” she asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Class.”

She did bring his bookbag with her, it’s sitting on the floor beside her own, but she will not be taking him to class. He recognizes that when she pulls out of the exit when she turns left instead of right. He grunts but doesn’t say anything, opting to curl further into himself. Protecting his head from an unseen threat.

The rest is practice. He’s foggy from the medicine they give him, always something different from what he’s taken. It’s meant to bring him down, strengthen his haze, and keep him calm. To shut his mind up -- and it’s good, it really does work. It just makes him so exhausted.

“Get your big butt--” Emily has to help him get into his bed and just as he’s about to apologize -- mouth hung open and his eyes squinting as he tries to force sluggish thoughts through a brain that hasn’t worked in days -- she climbs up after him.

His head hits the pillow and his mind goes blank, can’t even form the “I’m sorry” trying to trip its way out of his mouth.

Within seconds she’s laying down beside him, wiggling down under the covers and pulling them up over them. “Derek was pretty pissed you left again without telling us,” she whispers. It takes her a moment but she leans back up and pulls the blinds down, shuts the light from outside from coming in. Then she’s right back beside him, head on his chest. “You’ve got to stop doing that, Aaron. It’s-- It’s--” cruel.

Breathlessly he whispers, “sorry.” It’s all he can manage, drugs still heavy in his bloodstream and eyes forced shut, to move his hand to her back. To try and convey more than what he’s capable of with words that he didn’t mean to scare her. He just scared himself.

She turns her face into his sweatshirt and lets out a little sob, holding onto him. “I think I’m going to break up with Eric.” She’d come up with a thousand reasons Aaron would have disappeared, even as logic dictated where she knew he was. Her fear covered everything until she was sat wondering if she was making things worse for Aaron. His anxiety and migraines and everything else. Was she adding to his stresses or helping?

Coming home and having to ask him to relive parts of his childhood for her… Having him dab foundation over her bruises with his tremoring hands knowing he was thinking about his mother. That he was thinking about doing this exact exercise on himself, covering bruises his father left across his own face. Dabbing blood away and whispering empty, useless promises.

“Okay,” he whispers.

His mother had offered him that same lie a thousand times. She’d drawn lines in the sand and washed them away the next morning with the reconstruction of a wave -- thin cold fingers touching a bruise and asking what happened. As if she hadn’t watched. As if she hadn’t picked him up off the floor and hidden him away in his room, draping her body over his.

“I mean it,” she whispers, her tone mixed with conviction she doesn’t have.

“I know.” He’ll pretend to not remember this conversation when she goes bar crawling with Eric Thursday night. He’ll avoid the other’s eyes when they look at him for some sort of explanation, why she’s taken by her promise this time. But for now, he’s tired and he’s warm and he feels safe. He’ll call Spencer and Penelope later and apologize for blowing off the plans they had to watch Doctor Who, act like they all don’t know where he’s been.

“I love you.”

He squeezes her hips, gives in to his exhaustion. “I love you too.”

[alvhiedeir]

Little Red Elf

Thor X Reader

3174 words

This is longer than intended and quite different than requested and I have no excuse than my lack of discipline but I hope this is good enough

You are seriously thinking about investing on a security camera.

No, it wasn't that you were worried about being robbed. It's was being, 'gifted'.

In an almost daily basis, different items would make it's way to your doorstep. Black roots, hyacinth, hellebores, poppies and other herbs that would usually not grow around the area. It was nice, that was the first thought you had. You were no Circe, the great witch of Aiaia, but such ingredients could and did help greatly with your draughts. So as much as this occurrence should startle you, you brushed it off as the doing of one of your friends working for Lord Osanyin who would usually send you samples of anything new. You figured business was just doing better than usual for her to give you this much.

Two weeks, it continued on. When you rise for the day, there would be a neatly placed bundle of herbs or plant on your front steps. Always perfectly centered. And for two weeks, you accepted each and everything in such giddiness.

That is until you until today.

"I haven't been given you anything, (y/n)," She turned away from the selves she was organizing and continued, "it's been pretty busy lately for the last month with the arrival of new supply from Asia."

Her answer gave you a sudden feeling of uneasiness.

"Then who," your voice trailed, dragging the weariness and alert in the air. Your friend was quick to catch the shift of your mood.

"But think about it," she placed the bottle she was holding and walked towards you, "those herbs are rare and what are the chances of a random miscreant obtaining it?"

It eased your nerves a bit to hear her words.

"Or maybe, you finally have an admirer even if your always holed up in your home!"

She laughed at the jesting glare you sent.

"Like you're any better, cat lady."

"Hey! Having four cats does not count as being a cat lady!"

"Sure, whatever you say."

You shared a laugh, the tension thinning out. After saying a few words, she went back to the counter to pack the herbs that you bought, the reason why you were there in the first place.

"You bought quite a lot. What is it for anyway?"

"Loki wanted some draughts to "bring entertainment around this damn boring halls", his words not mine."

She laughed, commenting how it sounded just like him. She handed you the carefully packed products, with a small purple ribbon tied on the basket as she always did for you.

Just as you're about to leave she called out.

"If you're still disturb about the whole mysterious gifts, why don't you try staying up to see who it is?" You thanked her for her suggestion and concern and with a wave, headed back home.

To say the least, her suggestion was not very successful.

After you went home, you got started on the ordered draughts and by the time the moon greeted the sky, your eyes were already heavy. Being stubborn, you stayed sitting in your kitchen, chair facing the window to see if anyone or anything would past by.

The minutes were slow and before you knew it, the sun has reclaimed its place. And there was yet another gift. A freshly uprooted crab apple tree that barely passes as an adult. How in the world did they get this one?

Another week fast approached and the gifts arrived just as fast. Cornel bark, elecampane, silver fir, the list goes on. Each night, you attempt to desperately stay awake to catch but a glimpse would always end up with you succumbing to sleep. It didn't matter if it was for hours or a mere minute, by the moment your eyelids flutter open, it was already there. Perfectly centered as always, in an almost mocking way.

"You missed us again", you could hear the ridicule from it.

As days flutter, the gifts and your frustrations would only intensify. One time it was antlers from a dear Australia. The other day it was the tusk of a bore. Yesterday it was the blood of steed. The last one made you panic a bit, but thankfully in came only in a small vial. It eased your nerves, albeit slightly that the animal was minimally harmed.

You tried sleeping in the morning so that so that you could roam at night. But when you rise from your chair for a drink or to go the toilet, the sneaky bastard have already placed another gift. You went as far as sitting on your doorstep for the whole night, but even that didn't help. The gift was on your window.

You were at your wits end with this "Persistent Santa" shenanigans (it was your friend who called them that. It was that or creepy-pile-of-dung-that-had-to-much-time). Whoever they were, they are good.

You sighed tiredly again, the dark bags proving Your fruitless efforts.

"Wow, you look miserable!" You silently snapped at the voice, too sleepy to argue but to proud to ignore it. His laugh was laugh, always happy to see others demise.

"Just give me the money, Loki." You impatiently thrust the basket full of draughts to him, eager to leave and maybe sleep for a few days.

"Aren't you greedy." The more he teases you, the more punching him right in the face became an increasingly good option. As if reading your voice, he raised his hands in mock surrender.

" I would pay you, but," he dragged his voice as floated closer to you, "I dont have my money right now. And the old man is calling me so can you wait a few minutes for me?" He smiled, oh-so-mockingly sweet at you.

A tomato would have been jealous of the tint of your check. The itching call for violence is now an unignorable howler. But before you can give in, the god of mischief is already pushing you into one of the rooms, claiming your silence as agreement. In a blink, you were in a well decorated room. The walls were cream in color and golden leaves decorated the corners. Threre were shelves of book against one side of the wall and-

"Wait a minute." Snapping out of your trance, you shouted, voice filled with vile, "Loki!"

But sadly, it came too late and the door have already been shut and only his feint mocking voice telling "enjoy!" Was heard from the other side.

You could sighed, pity for your own predicament. Moving towards one of the shelves with a colorful string of curse words following, you might sa well entertain yourself with something. The books were more old, and probably cost more than your soul. Each one was placed neat and organized, neither a speck or spot of dust could be seen. But one particular book caught your eye.

With a gentle finger, you traced the gold imprints on its spine.

Herbs, Medicine and Witchcraft

Unlike everything else, this one book was placed different. It was pulled slightly forward, as if recently placed back but someone else other than the organizer. When you pull it out, you also noticed the small, almost miniscule dirt on its cover. But other than that, it was nothing special.

"I didn't think they'll have this kind of book."

You sat down and flipped on a random page. It was filled with information about different plants that can be used for both medicine and, surprisingly witchcraft. It included their typical use, characteristics, side effects and their locations. And it was very specific too.

"I wonder if I can borrow this."

Page upon page was flipped, despite the fascination dwelling in you, drowsiness became unbearable. It was just so quiet and peaceful here. Maybe a few minutes won't hurt, right?

"Loki will be there for a while anyway. Might as well." Your reasoning seemed to make sense with your tired eyes and you rest your head. Not even bothered by the fact that you used the book as your pillow.

It'll just be few minutes anyway.

It wasn't a few minutes.

Slowly, your eyelids fluttered as consciousness begin to come back. You sighed contently, that nap certainly helped with your mood. You buried your nose deeper into the soft cloth you leaned on and inhaled. It smelled like fresh lilacs and the sun.

Wait, cloth?

You lifted your head and saw, indeed there was a neatly folded cloth on the place of the book. It was pale apricot, almost faded white and now that you are looking properly, it was a short robe?

"I starting to think you were not going to wake up."

Do you know the sound of a startled walrus with a respiratory disease? Imagine that, but worse. That how you sounded as you whipped your head in surprise to the voice. Right beside you was the god of thunder himself, Thor. The difference in size between him and the chair he was resting on was almost comical. You would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact you want to live a longer.

"He-hello Thor-sama." Damnit, what did you stutter?

He casted his eyes sideways to acknowledge your greeting, glacing right back into reading afterwards.

Looking yourself, it was then you noticed the book he was reading was the one you were previously sleeping on.

"It didn't seem like you were using it," his voice was monotone as for usual, "aside as a pillow, that is."

Ahh, the sheer pleasure of being swallowed by the ground right now would be nice.

"Ah! That- I! Yes..." You simply stared at your lap instead, fist clenched tightly on top. Better to stay quiet that to embarrass yourself further.

Thor was in between being an acquaintance and  a work friend. Neither of you talked much, aside from greetings and small talk but was more than used to his presence with the number of times you had to deliver things to Loki, enough so that you don't have to tremble everytime you meet.

But sitting this close, in a close space, alone, this was definitely the first time.

And it'll be the last if you're not careful.

The silence was suffocating, for you at least. You have almost jumped in your sit when he flipped a page in the book.

A minute passed and you are so closed to jumping out of the window. The room was too quiet. Making small talk won't be bad at times like this right?

"It's a nice book."

Wow. If you could, you would have hit yourself in the back of your head. Great thinking, really.

He merely nodded and the silence dragged once again.

"There's a lot of useful information in it."

Stop, just stop. Please stop digging your own grave.

"That's why it's a shame to be drooled on."

"I do not drool!"

In the distant, the sound of funeral bells rang clear in your head. The life you lived was good. Your friend will remember what flower you wanted to be placed on your coffin, and she can have your house, maybe even your-

Before you could complete your will, you heard a smallest of chuckle from the other god.

Huh?

You stared at Thor and sure enough, there's the tiniest arch in his lips. His eyes remains on the pages but - shit - has he always been this pretty?

Between the brief greetings and quick glances, it was hard to appreciate his beauty. Though mostly blank, his face was clear and smooth. Not a single blemish as one might expect from a god who knew battlefield as his home. He was no Aphrodite nor comparable to Paris, but he himself held a beauty of his own. You couldn't quite decide on if it was the light from the window or it was simply him that was glowing?

His neck flexed in the smallest notion as he read. The muscles of his shoulders were relaxed against the table.

Heavens. Those muscles.

You blushed on your thoughts. You tear your eyes away from his physique, the wooden table suddenly very interesting.

"It is rare to see you without Mjolnir, Thor-sama."

"I don't bring him when I read."

"Him?" The question lingered on your head. Was Thor one of 'those' people?

"Do you read often?"

"No."

"Are you interested in herbal medicine?"

"No."

"Is that so?" Your answer was awkward just as the air around you. But to the very least, the tension have eased out knowing that he didn't  obliterate you so far.

"Um, Thor-sama?"

Curse you and your need to fill in the silence.

"May I ask why you are reading a book about witchcraft? You do not seem the type to be interested in it." Realizing what you said was potentially insulting, you quickly apologized, eyes wide as you tried to explain. "Not that you don't look like it! What I mean is, um, - that." You stumbled over your own words with nervousness but he simply kept his eyes in the book, barely even glancing at you.

"... give you." His voice made you stop with your gibberish. Catching only the tail-end of his words, you looked at him questioningly. Only then did you realize that it has almost been a minute since he flipped a page, almost as if your question startled him as well.

"Ma-may you repeat that?"

There was a short pause before his answer came.

"So that I know what to give you."

Furrowed brows and confused eyes marked your features.

"So that I know what to give you."

His words repeated in your head, like an stubborn echo inside a cavern.

"I know what to give you."

"Give you."

"Give."

Oh shit.

"You're the Persistent Santa?!" The chair you previously sat on collided with the floor with a loud "thud". Hands planted heavily against the table, you casted accusing eyes to him.

Before any other words were uttered, your senses made its way back to your head like a harsh slap of water. You just yelled at the strongest Norse god. You might as well have dug your own hole and painted your tombstone.

But all fear and confusion left you as you stare at the fore mentioned god. He was not glancing down anymore but instead his eyes found its place opposite of your direction. And if one would look close, really intently stared, the faintest of red could be seen blooming in his cheeks.

"He-he's blushing."

Thor is blushing.

"You shouldn't be shouting here." His voice did not have the same air of threat and authority it usually holds. If your ears were right, it almost sounded like he was embarrassed.

Silently picking up the fallen chair, you sat down with your eyes burning holes the robe infront of you. Which you have almost forgotten was there.

Thinking back to the times you interacted with him, one word would usually come to mind. Quiet. He would acknowledge your presence or sometimes even greet you during the times you bump into one another but has never to made a conversation. Compared to Loki, you have always figured that maybe he was just more refined.

It wasn't until you heard his tale from your friend that you have gathered a sort of fear towards him. You knew how gods are, how vile and wrathful they are. And a god of his caliber could wipe you with a single flicker of his finger.

You would now bow and act more politely to him. Going as far as trying to avoid any contact with him.

But now sitting a mere foot apart, you felt no threat. No danger. And only then did you realize that you have never really felt any danger to begin with. When he speaks, he did not have the murderous aura that they claim to choke anyone.  He had never given you any reason to fear him, it was only you who decided to believed other's opinion.

"I'm sorry."

As if a trigger, his head turned to you upon hearing your timid voice but you dare not look at his eyes.

"You don't-"

"Not just for yelling."

Where did you get the courage to cut him off? You do not know. But, still with the false bravery, you continued.

"I mean, I have been very rude to you for a long time,"

"You have never been mean to me and I only returned the gesture by fearing you without any basis of."

With every fiber of yours screaming otherwise, you turned to look at him in the eye.

"I'm really sorry."

The longer you look into those golden eyes the more the heat on your neck spreads to your cheeks.

Guess his hair isn't the only thing red now.

"It's nothing," surprisingly it was Thor who turned away first. This time though, you eyes remained on him with a small smile. Youu have been missing out on so many things. But now, you have the eternity to catch up. And you're sure as hell you will.

"Thor-sama."

"Just Thor."

You laughed a bit, a sound that you did not notice brought a smile on his own lips.

"Why did you give me those gift anyway."

He turned his head to the other direction, but your keen eyes could see his tainted red ears.

"Loki said gifts were a good way to get close to someone." You grinned.

"I should have known better than listen to him."

His words dragged a loud laugh from you. The thought of him asking Loki, of all people for an advice was something you thought you'll never hear. And the small pout in his voice upon the next statement both brought you giddiness and butterflies.

Your hands instinctively covered your mouth, but still the sounds slipped through. And if you would have opened your eyes that moment, you would have seen the adoration in Thor's as he watches you.

Yes, it was embarrassing to ask his cousin for advice and finding those herbs was a hard task. But if seeing you like this, with lips arch into the most beautiful smile he have seen filled with happiness he once thought he couldn't bring you, then he would do it a thousand more.

Bonus:

Outside the closed doors, Loki grinned at himself. Trying to get you two was a pain with how standoffish Thor was by this was the most entertainment he had for a long time.

"What the hell are you doing?" It was one of Odin's crow that screeched from beging, as they watch the god smiling, and by experience it never means well.

"Oh nothing," he sing-songed. He floated pass his uncle but never before saying,

"Hope you're ready for grandkids!"

"Huh?"

But they did not receive an answer, only a chorus of laughter from the god of mischief as he drift away.

If you don't know who's Circe is, she's a witch in the Greek mythology that turned sailors into pigs. Odysseus met her during his travel home from the Trojan war. She turned his men into pig too. And it's a book of Madeline Miller too! You should really read her books.

This was requested by @tenshi-san and I apologize that I might have strayed too far from your prompt. I really hope I did your husbando some justice. He was so hard to write because that only thing I can see him as is bored😂. But I hope you still like it!

[whumpersdump]

Project Rebirth - CH4: Final Touches

Content! From Whumper’s POV. (They’ll get a title soon btw, I just haven’t decided on a name yet).

[ Previous ] -- [ Masterlist ]

TW: (None of these are graphic) Restraints / blink-and-you-miss it use of  “it” as a pronoun / dehuminization / non-con surgery (non-graphic, whumpee isn’t awake) / lab whump / pet whump / sedation / sensory deprivation (not from Whumpee’s POV) / brain-fiddling? (he talks of an implant that restricts basically everything from speaking to moving. It’s mentioned, not shown)

Everything is set for the first practical stage of Project Rebirth to begin. All that is need is some final surgical attention, and a last talk to Whumper’s new investors. Also no editing we die like Toby’s previous owner...

Whumper sat next to Subject One, like he had every moment of spare time in the past five days. The last two, they barely twitched a muscle. Of course this was in part because of the starvation, but it was nice to have achieved nonetheless. Even if would wear of. Their body may be still, but the occasional twitch, hitch of a breath, told him their mind was racing.

He already picked out a name for them. Their masterpiece, even if it would take nine months before he would see their frantic eyes again. Everything was prepared. Their nursery—which was a rather misleading name, but it fit the process, and the marketing—was almost done, the housing facility would be complete in three months.

Subject One was the only one who really needed to be in the container for the sake of the time that it would give Whumper, but the aspect fit the aesthetic his investors expected. It would be what kept the program running for decades to come.

Subject One shuddered. They’d gotten the message. He’d chosen one of his newly acquired sponsors to deliver it through the earpieces. Not because it needed to be. He could just as easily move, then sedate the subject. Make the chaos in their mind spike just before they’d awake in ominous calm. Comforting calm, though it would take a while for the subject to feel about in that way. They had nine months, it would be enough.

The sponsors needed to feel special anyway. Some of them could make perfect pets, the way they seemed to crave special attention. He could try it someday. With this Project, even they could be reborn.

He nodded at Toby. “Bring them to the surgeon. It’s time for stage 3.”

Toby exited the corner he’d been standing in for the past day. It was a test, to see how obedient he really was. So far, Whumper had been pleased. Sure, seeing pets shiver at the thought of accidentally moving a muscle without permission could be rewarding, but it didn’t bring the type of productivity he needed. Toby’s compliant personality, in combination with Whumper’s training, did.

Toby reached for the subject’s shoulder like he always did.

“Not anymore, Toby,” Whumper commanded. “No more touching of any kind. You can move them, tube and all.”

Toby obeyed. With precision, he took the hand truck out of place and rolled it over to the doors that opened to the medical wing. Subject One would feel this, but it wasn’t enough to skew the results. If anything, it could amplify the result he was looking for.

He followed behind Toby, but entered the door to the watching room instead of the OR like Toby did. That’s where his funding was waiting. He hated having to care about it, but money was simply necessary for him to scale up the Project. “Thank you for coming back,” he told the seven investors waiting for him. “As I’ve said before, most of the program is completely tailored to your pet and the pet you wish they become. That means, no program looks or feels the same. This part though, they all have in common.”

He guided their gazes down to the OR—where the surgeon had sedated the subject—and begun the procedure. Toby watched from his corner, as Whumper had told him to. This would be the only time he was allowed this close to a subject before Rebirth, so Whumper made sure he knew as much as possible. The pet didn’t lie. He used to, but his previous owner trained it out of him.

If he were to fulfill any purpose at all in the future, he would have to learn to. Knowing about the stages before meeting the Reborn subjects was a good way to teach them. After all, he’d be the one to truly push the subject’s minds over the edge.

The investors patiently waited for Whumper to explain what was happening. “The implant all subjects receive is what makes this project so realistic. Like a newborn child, they have to learn everything. Eating, speaking, resisting, if you want them to. All in an effort to recreate them into the pet they were always meant to be. Now of course, some of them have skills we do want them to keep. Take Toby down there, he’s a master on the piano. For each pet, the implant’s functions can be customized.”

One of the investors raised her hand. “What are your plans for this one then?” she asked. “Does it have anything worth keeping?”

Whumper smiled. “In a less dire situation, we might have chosen to keep certain parts of them, but as you’ve noticed this is not the average pet we’re talking about. They will be reborn a blank slate. The only thing any pets are allowed to keep is their understanding of language—so they can obey commands, and their ability form minimal amounts of coherent thought and memory. We’ve found that this process works best if to some extent, the pets are aware of the changes. A risk, I know, especially with this one, but it will prove efficient.”

He straightened his tie. “This one in particular has quite the mouth, and they tend to use a bit too much of what they hear against their trainers. For that reason, we’ve limited their access to their vocabulary a bit more than usual. They’ll be able to understand simple sentences, but we won’t have to worry about their natural perceptiveness.”

“What’s he doing to their eyes?” a second investor asked.

Whumper’s heart fluttered. He’d hoped they’d ask. “Those, are highly sophisticated remote-controlled lenses.” They weren’t necessary, they function was mostly aesthetical from the subject’s perspective. They helped make it all a bit more realistic on both sides, though.

“They don’t have to be removed, ever. Which is why we’re putting them in so early. They control the subject’s ability to see color, and light. Like them implant, we can control them from behind the scenes. They aren’t vital, but they smooth out the transition from the Rebirth into the following stages of the program.”

He glanced down into the OR, where the surgeon was finishing up, and the other staff had begun to prepare the subject for stage 4’s container. “I’m afraid that I can’t show you anymore at this point, so my staff can take on this challenge with as little distraction as possible. However I’m happy to answer as many of your questions as I can.”

Several hands shot up. Whumper smiled.

“What are they doing?” Was the first question.

Whumper gazed down. Four people were removing the restraints and the jacket, and outfitted the subject in the thin white suit that would help keep them healthy and alive throughout the following stage.

They connected the dozens of tubes and wires that would take care of everything they couldn’t handle from outside the container, as he called it. “I’m afraid this is another one of those trade secrets, but what I can tell you is that in spite of how it looks, this will make the pre-Birth stage as realistic as it can be.”

“What about these nurseries that your people kept going on about. I’m sure they’re important, but it all sounds a bit too… human for my taste. I prefer my pets are used to the necessary restraints and housing conditions, so to speak.”

Whumper nodded. He wasn’t surprised to hear this investor thought his standard approach too kind. She’d demanded her pets were kept muzzled and bound at the facility’s daycare, even though they were among the most compliant creatures he’d ever seen.

“As I said,” he answered. “Everything can be customized. This subject I believe, will gain more from approach that teaches them that as a placeable pet, they will be cared for as long they don’t resist. Should you trust us with your pets though, if we decide after the evaluation that another approach may achieve the desired results more efficiently, we’re prepared. We have nurseries of all kinds, and our staff is prepared to fulfill any role they need to play.”

That seemed to please them. Whumper turned to the last question.

“How long does this program take?”

“We have multiple options. The standard program Subject One will go through can take up to sixteen years starting at the Rebirth, with a minimum time of three years. Now of course, that is a long time for a pet to be away. We have two accelerated programs that last either a few months, or even just a few weeks. You’re free to choose, but after the evaluation we will provide you with a suggestion. Not all pets need the full experience. Especially if they’re not old enough to be placed, a longer program can harm the natural development.”

A frown formed on a few faces.

“I can see you’re worried about the results I’ve promised you. You won’t have to wait long. The program may be an intense procedure, but the results will start to show after just a few weeks. The rest of the Project is about making them last, so these—” He dangled the subject’s bright red collar in front of them— “will soon be no more than a reminder of what I’ve solved.”

Whumper clasped his hands. The subject was moved out of the OR, into the container hall. “I must go now. My assistant will be up shortly to escort you out. I should mention Toby’s not allowed to be too talkative around strangers, but he’s still learning. If he breaks any rules, please contact me. He doesn’t respond well to strangers punishing him, he’s a bit too loyal for that.”

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