#you could never pay me enough to get involved with the family association

[crowsent]

on one hand. he loves the bastard so much hes willin to go down a path he absolutely hates

on the other hand was this really necessary????????? plenty of fish in the sea accept your losses and find someone who aint involved in all this damn

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Can you do a touya/Dabi fic with shotos twin sister and just had one quirk which was fire so she was tossed aside so she resented her dad and somehow she met dabi/touya and he made her his little spy but she also desperately clings to him at times when she reports to him and stays close since she never got that affection (Btw for outfits she usually wears tank tops and bootcut jeans) please and thank you

Warnings: sorry this took forever for me to get out, been meaning to get to it cuz i miss writing for dabi x todoroki!reader, tons of trigger warnings, sibling incest, siblingxsibling relationships, betrayal, manipulation, resentment, overall dark themes, dysfunctional todoroki family ft, mind the tags, don't read if you don't like the subject matter 🖤

Inhaling deeply before letting out a slow, steady, breath, you pull open the large front door of Endeavor's agency. You could survive a few hours in the presence of your father. Or rather, lingering in the background like the little ghost you were.

No one would dare to say it out loud, but everyone and their mother knew you were the spare twin compared to your slightly older brother Shoto. He was the pride and joy of the Todoroki family, unlike you. At first you believed it to be unfair. You were in the womb at the same time as him. Why didn't you get a ice and fire quirk?

Was it really because he was the first born? That couldn't be it.

Your white flames, while hotter than even your father's, did little to impress him.

You didn't turn any heads when you enter your father's personal floor of his agency's building. This task was easy. Stealing information and sending it to your older brother and his crew became a normal thing for you.

"See, I told you we should have her around." Dabi argued in your defense while caressing the side of your face. "She's a good girl who listens to her big brother, aren't you?" Some would call his tone degrading. You felt the tenderness in his hand though as it delicately angled your face upward so he could look into your mismatched eyes. One the hue of a storm in the sky, the other the color of a raging sea. That’s what Dabi always said before you closed your eyes to go to bed.

Shigaraki and the rest of the League were less thrilled about you being anywhere near them. While you weren't popular like your father or Shoto, many still knew your face. Having you around could be more of a risk than the League were willing to pay.

You just wanted to make him happy, to keep his eyes solely on you. If it involved betraying the other members of your family (including your twin brother Shoto) then so be it. You would let Dabi’s words consume you entirely, making you his mindless slave.

The rest of the League members could chalk it up to Dabi simply using sweet words to manipulate you. He didn’t care about anything. Especially his family. What made you different?

Now that was a secret that Dabi would not utter. His praise filled words were genuine when it came to you and Dabi would be damned if he had to give you up again because of Tomura. He'd make sure you'd make yourself indispensable to the League. They'd have to let you stay.

You were just as determined as Dabi was to keep your place. You hated to even pretend to be under allegiance to your father or any superhero for that matter. They'd always looked down on you for not being like Shoto. Never being enough for them or their world. But you were enough for Dabi.

Slipping the flashdrive up your sleeve, you leave just as you had arrived: unseen. Just in case the cameras hidden throughout the building were focused on you, you'd nonchalantly picked up some of your father's paperwork in appearance of tidying up his workspace like the good daughter you were.

It made you sick to your stomach thinking that not too long ago, all you'd ever wanted was Endeavor's attention and approval. Shoto suppressed his fire ability for years, associating it with his abusive father so you thought you had a shot. You spent hours upon hours practicing with your flames to make them hotter and hotter and finally to where they could melt anything and everything. Leaving not even ash behind.

When you hand Shigaraki the flashdrive, he grudgingly accepts it with a stiff nod. He didn't want to admit that you were providing them incredibly valuable information that all other villain groups lacked.

He ignores Dabi's smug grin as he slung his arm around your shoulder, giving the top of your head a peck. "Knew you could do it." His brings his hand up for his fingers to brush against your cheek.

You felt it again.

The world stopping and all breath departing from your lungs. You wanted Dabi to brand you with his palm, to use his blue flames and scorch your skin so you would always have a piece of him.

Then Dabi leans down, lips caressing the shell of your ear and in his husky tone he calls you "Good girl."

Blushing and highly aware of how Dabi simply towered over you, you shyly duck your head. "Ha. . . it was nothing."

Everyone learned to simply avert their attention when Dabi's affections for you walked on the razor's edge of what was appropriate.

You'd proven to be their perfect spy. Shigaraki couldn't wait to see you in actual battle. That would really be the test of your usefulness.

[chwenotchoi]

[ kim tae-ri, cis female, she/her ] - was that CHOI HYE-JIN i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the TWENTY SEVEN year old who has been in nightrest for A MONTH and works as a/an HOSTESS has a reputation of being CHARMING, but also DECEITFUL. they reside in ASHMORE & people in town usually associate them with RED LIPSTICK, BLACK CATS, and WILTED ROSES. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next.

*taps into the mic* hello, hello. is this thing on?

hi! i'm dee, your new (favorite) provider of all-things angsty! i am so excited to be here and to write with all of you :--) without further ado, let me write a very... brief introduction for my baby, hye-jin! <3

tw: abandonment, murder, sexual harassment, all things illegal

full name: choi hye-jin nickname/s: jinnie, yeji birth date: october 5, 1995 age: 27 years old birth place: daegu, south korea marital status: single blood type: o zodiac sign: libra mbti personality type: entj

choi hye-jin is the eldest daughter of a notorious criminal (choi duri) and a well-known businesswoman (song eun-jung) in daegu. her mother's family, of course, did not approve of this. it resulted for them to use their influence to get rid of hye-jin and her father. luckily, the two managed to escape with the help of the gang he's involved with.

hye-jin and her father lived in incheon. this is also where he met park do-yun, the only daughter of the gang leader in the said city. he loved her dearly, and eventually had a son when hye-jin was 9 years old. right after giving birth, do-yun did not survive as she lost a huge amount of blood during labor.

this leads to duri losing the love of his life, as well as his mind. he did all things to distract himself from being reminded that do-yun passed away. he was never home, leaving hye-jin to take care of the boy while their father did whatever he wanted outdoors. this went on for years!

aside from becoming the gang's greatest member, he would also cause trouble from left to right. his gang is there to back him up of course, but there are also times where in a young hye-jin would be the one to help him clean up his mess.

when she was 15, she had a fight with her dad who came home drunk and angry. he was screaming at her, blaming her for every miserable thing that had happened in his life. from being exiled in his hometown to losing the love of his life. hye-jin never understood why she was the one to blame, especially when she was just at home, taking care of her step-brother and providing everything that she can. she worked different jobs while studying, since their father barely gave anything to support them.

as expected, hye-jin eventually got involved with her father's line of work. it pays good money, and she would do anything to survive. from scamming to injuring people, you can count on her. just make sure you have the means to pay for her services.

the gang's leader eventually saw the potential in hye-jin. he made sure hye-jin had everything she could need, in exchange of her loyalty to him. this was a deal that she could never say no to. so whatever it is that he wanted her to do, she's got it covered.

this includes getting rid of duri. who has been stealing money from the gang and cause nothing but trouble lately. but since hye-jin is known for getting the job done efficiently, she was the one assigned to execute choi duri.

definitely, it was a difficult job for the girl. she was barely 18 and that is her father. but she would rather have him dead rather than penniless and hungry. she was offered a huge amount of money for this. which is honestly more than enough to support her and her younger brother. the gang's leader keeps his word. and he also assured her that they will be moving somewhere far away once she gets it done.

and so she did. the next thing she knows is that she was watching her father bleed to death. other members of the gang took care of the body, while she was packing her things. what she did not know about the whole deal is that her younger brother will not be joining her.

she moved to a different continent at the age of 19. of course, still supported and funded by the leader of the gang she's in. she was able to get into college and live a pretty normal life. she just wished that she can still take care and see her younger brother.

but every now and then, she is still assigned to do things for him. she would spy on people, steal expensive jewelry, and even kill whoever did the gang leader wrong. all that tasks done without any traces that would lead to her.

she is definitely a pro at all things illegal. with her very innocent looks, everyone would not believe that she can do such thing. and everyone will always pick her side because... she mastered the look of being helpless too. a true cunning queen!

she also completed her degree in culinary! she can cook, she can kill. A GIRLBOSS!

eventually, she worked at a well-known hotel. her skills and dedication made it easy for her to become a head chef in three years. she took her time, but as she was about to get promoted, one of the executives of the said hotel sexually harassed her after work. knowing hye-jin's skills in that department... she had this man dead too.

she made sure that it looked like it was suicide. luckily, there were no security cameras on where it happened, and she knew the hotel like the back of her hand. she just cleaned up her mess, neat enough to ensure that the man looked like he killed himself. the next day, hye-jin came to work early and acted as if she discovered the body. this was so well-orchestrated. this lead to her resignation and eventually moved to the small town of nightrest.

she wanted to live a more lowkey life now, so she works as a very friendly hostess at spirits!

personality wise, hye-jin is can be a little snobbish. she's literally a black cat personified. but if you get on her good sides... you're lucky.

she also lives in ashmore because her bank account never runs out of money (thanks to her work and her illegal sidelines hehe)

i think that's about it! i'm pretty open for any sort of plot with her since she's new around town! let me know what you think :) tnx 4 having me here <3

[ndantalion]

Chapter One

This didn’t have to be a police are involved sort of problem but my parents made it into one so here I am waiting in a bush for that problem to go away. I may have stolen one thing of heritage booze, a bottle of wine that they’ll get in trouble for stashing in their basement, but I’ll get in much more trouble for having about town. That is, even if I wasn’t taking little sips when no one’s paying attention.

It’s fine though. The Eye of the Sun (long closed) looks stunning lit up at night. The urban sprawl doesn’t reach nearly as high on the neighboring peaks, mostly spilling out into the valley and along several rivers to the ocean far away. Not everyone is allowed up there—not everyone even knows what they go up there for. But there are lights all the time, all the way to the top.

My brother goes up there. I noticed because he’s always been a pretty pathetic guy, but he stopped getting so easily winded. So I asked him directly, “Is that the assignment you’ve been on?” and he just didn’t say anything. He’s the worst liar I know, so he didn’t even try. Maybe one day I’ll see him again and get to ask him, “Hey, so what do they actually have you doing up there? I bet it’s really important?” And if I butter him up enough he might just tell me. It hurts a little bit that I can’t just have this conversation tomorrow, that it has to take place in an unspecified someday, but I’m trying to ignore it.

I don’t know if I’ve had enough to get drunk or what it will feel like when that happens or how much of this is adrenaline but I think that, when I concentrate, that I’m somehow getting quieter? Or the equivalent of that, but for the eyes—they’ve looked right past me several times now.

I read in a pirated pamphlet that other cultures have objects that grant humans powers. Like most of these readings, I could never tell if that was a common mythological motif or established fact—were spirits really more active outside the Spires?

I’m a lot closer to finding out than I have any right to be, because I’m planning on hopping a train. It’s my first time attempting such a thing because it’s not really the sort of thing you get to attempt twice. I’m told it’s best to get a car when it’s on an incline, when the click-click-click of its cog is slower and more regular than when it moves by current.

But I’ve scrambled to the top of a big old hill and I feel a bit of vertigo looking down at the pit the tracks cut into it. I start wondering things like how bad jail really is when I hear the whistle of the train approaching and then the click-click-click-click-click. Like an antique cogwork clock.

I remind myself that this is the sort of things daring teens do to impress their friends, wandering back a few days later with stories that their parents get desperate to sweep under the rug. And I know how easy it is to just tell stories but I deliberately ignore that. The reason I don’t know anyone personally who’s survived this is that Mom would never let me associate with that sort of person, and god forbid it happen to anyone from our family. But I’m not in that family anymore, I guess.

I take a long sip of wine on the top of the hill, where I’m quite exposed but also—I think—invisible. It just feels like I let the light go through me and the wind go through me—it’s cold, but I let it through—and I can’t even see my legs below me, through it didn’t do anything at all to stop them feeling wobbly.

But I jump anyway, because really, worst that happens is I do, and the world doesn’t exactly stop for that. I’m really—in the moment that I’m flying—I can’t say that I feel anything but wise, like I’ve learned some great lesson in moral and physical weightlessness.

I get the landing almost right except for banging my ankle on the corner, which brings me back to my own body pretty quick. I crawl my way through a hatch in the roof before the pain really kicks in, and when it does, all I can be is amazed. It’s what I deserve, so I wallow in it a bit before I look around and realize someone’s there.

She’s no doubt the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, in a transcendental way that leaves me more awestruck than attracted or envious, though I can admit to some combination of the three. She seems surprised that I see her at all, maybe because the inside of this car is otherwise completely dark.

“May I have some?” She asks me, holding up my bottle.

“Okay,” I say, before I’ve processed what she said. I can’t focus on anything but her face—her gray eyes seem sharp but soft, like nothing I’ve seen in the world. I get this distinct feeling that she shouldn’t exist.

She pulls out two polished silver wine cups, fills them, and holds one out to me. For some reason I’m not surprised the wine in the bottle doesn’t diminish.

“Can you do anything about the pain?” I ask, suspecting she is my first encounter with a spirit.

“If you drink, you might forget it.” She downs her whole cup in an instant.

I look down at mine, doubtfully. That sounds a lot like the scary stories I’ve assumed until now were exaggerations, but I drink anyway. I’m not at the stage of my life to refuse an offer like that. It’s warm in a different way from spicy food, and it settles like a weight on my brain. Not unpleasant.

Too late, I look right through my fingers and realize, “I don’t think this is normal wine.”

“What do you mean?”

I try to turn invisible in front of her, even checking in the reflection of the cup, but she seems unfazed.

“You can’t get a drink at all in this city,” she says, pouring both of us more.

“Well yeah,” I say stupidly, “it’s illegal.”

“It’s illegal in every part of the nation,” she says, “but you can still get a drink.”

I look backwards, to where I think the city is. “I’ll just have to believe you,” I admit.

“Aha.” She leans forward. I contemplate kissing her—I think that is the sort of thing you’re supposed to do while drunk—but it hasn’t rendered me quite stupid enough. “This is your first time.”

I nod, and bravely drain about half my cup.

“It’s going to be interesting.” Something about her smile causes me to hesitate.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t stop on my behalf,” she says, eyeing me until I take another sip. “I just mean it will be interesting.”

“More than usual?”

“Maybe. You’re right about it not being normal wine—where did you get it?”

Flustered, I set my cup down. “I don’t think I should be telling you that.”

“Good instinct,” she says. “And in general, my advice is to keep this to yourself. No one needs to know what you’re capable of.”

“What am I capable of?” I ask, though I know immediately I will get no response.

She transforms in front of me, shrinking down into a dull, dusty moth. And she leaves me with the silver cups and the bottle of wine. And I have nothing else to do, and a whole lot of things I would rather forget.

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #186

What was the longest time you've liked someone? Maybe like, five or six years?

Who was the last girl in your room? Besides me obviously, my mom.

What are you excited for? Girt's birthday is right on the horizon, and I'm of course excited to celebrate that with him.

Who was the last person you took a picture with? My nephew at his birthday party.

Anything happen to you in the past month that made you really mad? Maybe, I can't recall.

Do you have any bruises on you? No.

Are you ticklish? YES

Did you reject or accept your last friend request? Accept, it was actually an old friend I understandably pissed off when I was a homophobic teenager and sent an apology to them years ago, I guess they eventually read it. Even if they didn't though, I think I'm very obvious in being LGBTQ+-friendly on my Facebook, so that also coulda said enough.

Are you a morning person, or a night person? I'm in a better mood generally in the morning, and almost always less anxious.

Where was your last hug? My bed.

Were you smiling in the last picture taken of you? Faintly I guess, Roman was cuddling with me on the couch and Mom took a picture of us.

Did you have a good childhood? In some ways, but in many others, no.

What pets did you have when you were growing up? We had an infestation of outdoor, unfixed cats. It's my childhood with them that makes me feel so strongly about the need for cats to be indoor animals.

Would you ever date someone who had issues with substance abuse? NO. I am not getting involved in that shit. I know realistically if - god fucking forbid - Girt developed a problem, I wouldn't leave him just for that, but that's only because of what we already have built together.

Have you ever been on a vacation that ended up being ruined? What happened? I don't talk much of this because I feel so shitty about it, but yes, by my own fault. I went to the beach with my then-best friend Jenna and her mom, and I feel like I lasted only one night because I had such severe separation anxiety from my mom as a child. We might have even left that night, I can't remember. I just remember being so fucking embarrassed and feeling absolutely terrible because neither wanted to go back home of course (and it was like, a two hour drive), I just wasn't okay.

Do you know anyone who has had a miscarriage? Multiple people. This is more common than I think a lot of people realize.

What's your last ex's opinion of you? She hates me and considers me a weak-willed deadweight. Rather be that than a Nazi, I guess.

Are there any major drama queens in your family? Yes. My mom's sister Kelly immediately comes to mind, we don't even associate with her anymore. Not only is she a drama queen, she's emotionally abusive.

Do you like Stephen King novels? I've never read any.

What is one adventurous thing you’d be willing to do? (ex: skydive) Cave exploration. I REALLY wanna do this one day!!

How many email accounts do you have? Two that I actually use.

Have you ever fallen asleep on public transport? (including planes) Yes, at least as a kid.

Do you pay rent for the place you live? How often? I don't, but my mom does, and I don't know how much.

Where was the last place you went on vacation/holiday to? Who’d you go with? I guess the closest thing that could be considered a vacation/holiday would be the last time I flew to Illinois to see Sara, which was multiple years ago. "Vacations" in the traditional sense don't really exist for me or Mom.

Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? I'm unemployed.

What’s your favourite type of donut? I feel like this varies with my mood. Sometimes it's just glazed, or chocolate frosted, or completely plain/cake donuts.

Would you ever want to go on vacation with just one of your parents? Yeah, my parents are divorced and I'm well aware Mom hates Dad's very guts so you'd never see us vacation together.

Has someone ever tried to start an argument with you over Facebook? What happened? lol this has certainly happened before, more than once.

When you’re at home, do you spend most of your time in your room? No, but in the spare room instead. I literally lived in my bed/room for years and it affected me horrifically, physically and mentally, so now my bed is strictly for bedtime.

Do you have a hard time admitting you’re wrong? I'm certainly not gonna lie and say it's never happened, but generally, I find this pretty easy to do with my shitty self-image anyway.

Are you listening to music right now? No, I'm watching herping videos from a channel I really enjoy.

When were you the saddest in your life? The end of 2015 and all of 2016.

Who in your family has been married the longest? (and how long?) Hell if I know.

Do you take your shoes off when you come inside? Yes.

What was the first social media site you ever used? MySpace.

Do you have any exes you really regret dating? Not like, "really" regret. I regret dating Tyler, but "really regret" makes it sound like a more desperate feeling.

Have you ever been catcalled? Not that I remember.

Have you ever cut your own hair? No.

Are you a fan of video games? Yeah, but I play them way less than I did growing up. Nowadays I tend to enjoy games more when I'm playing with others, or am just an observer.

What's your favorite color combination? Black and gold.

Has anyone besides your family seen you naked? If so, who? My ex. My current boyfriend kinda-sorta has I guess, but I've never been 100% fully undressed in front of him because of my own self-consciousness, but he's basically seen everything at one point or another. Women who have done psych hospital intake stuff with me count too, I guess. That was always the most uncomfortable shit.

Did your parents sign you up for anything you hated as a child? Yes, soccer and cheerleading. Neither lasted very long.

Do you know how to use Photoshop? I'd say I'm pretty okay with it. I prefer Lightroom, though.

Who is the best artist you've seen live? I've only ever seen Alice Cooper, but don't get me wrong, he's great.

Do more people call you by a nickname or your first name? Most people address me as "Britt," which is just a shortening of my first name.

Do you have the right time set on your microwave? Yes.

Do you have a radar detector for your car? No.

Have you ever been arrested? For what? No.

Where did you go today? I went to see my psychiatrist, and Mom and I stopped at a dollar store to get fillers for the pinata I'm doing for Girt's bday, lol.

Do you like to go fishing? I have fun doing it and find it extremely relaxing, but I no longer really do it because I feel mean lol.

Where is your favorite person? He's currently at work.

What mode of transport did you take to high school? My mom drove me.

Name a personality trait of yours that you like. I'm very empathetic.

Name something about your physical attraction that you dislike. I hate how dark my leg hair is, I'm mortified by my legs.

Have you ever made an item of clothing? No.

Who was the last person you had an intelligent debate with? I don't know; I tend to avoid debates because I panic and think the other person hates me lol.

Who was the last person who cooked something for you? My mom. She's the only one that cooks in this house, I really SHOULD change that... She provides so much for me.

Who was the last person who you heard singing? Oh definitely Girt, he's always singing something to himself lol.

Who was the last person you were upset with? Me.

Who was the last person you danced with? Sara.

Who was the last person you had a crush on? Well, Girt.

Who was the last person you got drunk with? I've never been drunk, but I last had alcohol with Mom.

Who was the last person who touched your hair? Besides myself, Girt.

What was the last birthday party you attended? My nephew's 7th in August.

What was the last thing you said to your mother? I thanked her for bringing home dinner.

What was the last song you listened to? "World so Cold" by Three Days Grace.

What was the last vegetable you ate? I wanna say green beans.

What was the last thing you had to drink? I have strawberry-flavored water right now.

What was the last fast food place you ate at? Mom happened to get McD's today.

When was the last time you had a sleepover? Girt spent the night around a week ago?

Where did you last go to celebrate your own birthday? The Cheesecake Factory.

Where does the last person you hung out with live? He lives about 30 minutes from where I do in another city, which I won't share.

[jhlms]

Disappointment

Recently, I’ve felt more like a disappointment to my family. My life has been one hell of a ride and honestly, I felt like I haven’t gained anything our of it. My parents has been more on my ass; especially my dad, about working and money. To him, he sees me as a child that can’t really do anything right; which i can see that because I haven’t been working since my recent job just closed down, due to, my boss not being able to pay the rent of the store. But I have been going out more, and just trying to enjoy the life that I wasn’t able to have since my dad was very strict on how my brothers and I could go out and have fun. As I grew older, i started to work and part time jobs, and like I enjoyed them for the most part, but my dad always had something to say about the jobs I was working at, since in his eyes they didn’t benefit what his standards of work should be. So whenever I left a job, due to, reasons on why I left, he would always had something to say about it, and sometimes it made me feel more like he was disappointed and that I wasn’t good enough. I left my first job at American Eagle because the work environment got really toxic after the store manager that hired me left and everything started to go downhill. I became a manger there with some of the associates that were there at the same time I was hired, but eventually, it got bad and, it felt like I was targeted there and wasn’t treated the same and or just felt like I didn’t belong as a manager=, even though I treated the associates that I managed with so much care, and really wanted to enjoy the job and make them feel like they wanted to come into work, but the other managers didn’t like how I was running the store and just turned on me, which resulted in my mental heath getting worse, and outside of work I fell more into my depression, and so I left. When my dad found out he made a big problem about me leaving and I told him what happened, but all her could say was “you should have just kept going,” and hearing that I felt like he didn’t care about my mental health and just wanted me to be there and make money. Then working at my second job, once again he felt like it wasn’t beneficial, and when I quit, he lectured me and that felt more like he was thinking I was more of a disappointment. And now since my recent job store closed down due to the rent being high, I has unemployed. And that I'm unemployed, once again my dad is involved. I’ve been trying to apply to jobs that could get me in the right track of trying to start my life, I'm 23 now, and all my dad has been doing since he’s off the ship for the time being is “when are you gonna find a job,” “You say you’re looking at jobs, but you haven't gotten an interview or are you even trying?” What he said hurt in so many ways, I understand that he wants the best for me, but I already be thinking about what I need to do, I’m constantly thinking about my life and what I need to do 24/7 and it keeps me up at night, stressing me out, making me look at jobs at 4am losing sleep because I don’t wanna have him see me as a disappoint anymore, but I still feel like even if I get a good job that supports me, it wouldn’t be enough for him to see me as his child that can provide for himself. But Idunno to me I’m never gonna be good enough for my dad. Sometimes I just wanna get away from everything and just hid and cry. Like it is my fault for putting myself into this situation. I try my best to do things but they aren't enough. At the end of the end I’m always gonna be a disappointment no matter what. 

[acatnamedturtle]

It Really Is Freeing

I never really thought about how creating an anonymous blog and just writing my inner thoughts could actually be so freeing. Yet it is. There is so much that I hold close to the chest, that I don't share with people, that I never even shared with my various therapists. Just bottled up inside this vast mind of mind, rattling around at the witching hour (3 am for me), keeping me awake and making me a bit sad.

Writing just that little bit about my secret wish for a partner and children really was cathartic. As was the fact that I practice abstinence and haven't dated in close to twenty years. It also hits home that I'm officially in mid-life and at least part of that mid-life I kind of look back on sadness with. Whose going to want to date and settle with no experience with sex unless you count what's written in books and fanfiction.

Anyways, I started telling you about myself yesterday. And I'd like to continue that some more today.

When I was in high school, or even before that, I dreamed of being first a lawyer and than a politician. Even after I destroyed my higher education life with a wrecking ball, I still initially thought that I'd go to law school, and while perhaps being a future President of the United States was no longer my path, being a lawyer could still be. Except life has its own plans, and it reared up with it's 'oh no, that's not going to happen Kat' face.

Mom got sick.

She needed me. My brother needed me. And juggling a full time job, helping to care for the house, and attempting to go to law school didn't work. Even part time. There's just not enough time in the day to manage doctor's appointments and teenagers homework, a full work schedule that involved managing a department with overseeing twenty-five or more people depending on the time of year, and three law school classes and the insane amounts of reading, research, and brief writing that takes place. Something had to give.

Law school had to give.

Some may have said screw the family, screw the job, obtaining a dream degree in a field that potentially could be a huge financial boost was more important.

I couldn't.

Mom needed me. Brother needed me. I needed me.

So I stayed at my job, supervising a data entry department. And eventually found myself a warehouse inventory manager for a multi-million dollar inventory for a company that fulfilled coupons and products for many national and global pharmaceutical and commercial products. No, it wasn't for Amazon or Walmart or any of those other well known stores. It wasn't even for a store. It was for a company that did all their consumer engagement work.

It wasn't a horrible job. It also wasn't a challenging job. Essentially it was a mundane job that found myself driving two hours to every morning, and two hours home every night.

For five years.

After two of those years, I tried to find something else, I really did. But loyalty and longevity can actually be damaging to a career in this day and age. See, I started working for that company at just shy of twenty as a part-time evening data entrist. That wasn't a bad job. They worked with my technical school schedule, at the time it paid decent money, and I didn't have to interact with the public. Or anyone if I didn't want to. Just put on some headphones and pop a CD into my discman.

After graduating from technical school with an associates degree in networking engineering, I found myself offered a full time supervisory position in the data entry department. And not many other job offers for a female in what was predominately a male-centric industry in the early '00s. I stayed in that position as I started and completed my bachelor's degree in paralegal studies, and when I started law school part time in 2009. I stayed when mom got sick. And I stayed after because I was part of something, I had friends, and while the pay wasn't great, it wasn't horrible either.

Then in 2013, I found myself unexpectedly getting promoted to Warehouse Inventory Manager for the companies location two hours from home. It was a salary position with bonuses and sick-time. Something even a supervisor in data entry didn't get. And initially I figured I'd move in with my brother who had found a position in the same area and was starting his career. Except he got a roommate, and I couldn't actually afford to live on my own and start paying my student loans back. So I drove two hours each way.

And hated it.

It took me another three years before someone would hire me. Oh I'd go on interviews, people would even like me, but then I'd get, well, you know, you're actually under-educated for this position but entirely too qualified from experience. You'd think that would be a good thing. Except it wasn't. In those three years, I was offered two positions and one I had to block obscene phone calls from for years because how I date I turn down their slave job when they were paying $15 an hour for 40 hours when I'd have the privilege of working 48 hours each week and driving to various court houses within a hundred mile radius on my own dime and cleaning up dog shit from the office of the owners dog.

I got lucky though. My current boss gave me a chance. In a combo position of business administrator and human resource coordinator. Oh I'm not making great money. It's really barely enough for mom and I to manage on, but we're getting by. If I do some side hustles of answering surveys, participating in research studies, and selling crafts and stuff around the house. It's an honest job for a company that doesn't pay their employees anywhere near their worth or even a living wage honestly, but the people I work with locally, they make a huge difference. These past two years have been shit. There's no other way to put it. And the people I work with have been great. They've supported me and been there for me and my mom in so many ways. Through the death of my step-father, through the death of my grandfather and then grandmother shortly after from a broken heart. Through the death of my cousin and then another cousin. Both taken way before their time. And through so much more.

And I've realized a few things.

I've have made a really bad lawyer. I can't like. I wear my feelings on my face, and lying just makes me feel like crap.

I really hate managing people and being in a job where I don't have to after sixteen years of doing it is pretty amazing.

I actually like working with spreadsheets and data.

I don't want to work in human resources long-term.

Now, all I need now is to find a better paying job doing the business end of my job title and not the human resources part. Preferably one that's remote for reasons that we'll get to another day.

[hchollym]

I read your post about Percy being a spy during book 7, it makes sense perfectly and many people believe it also (except the fact that if he was, why Rowling didn't clearly tell it? because of time restricted? Voluntarily, like something she intentionnaly hiden?) I just wanted to add two little things which i have never see people point out, and who may support this theory: Percy had become a departement director after the war, we didn't have more information about this but it's likely that he was one of the youngest departement head ever, if not the youngest. From the little we know and can feel, he seem to be a respected man in the reformed ministry. I am not convinced that he could have accessed to a very hight position if he had gotten along, even if it was by obligation, with the voldemord government (and people don't pay attention but we are even free to go as far as imagine that he become minister since cursed child is evidently not canon and JKR know it), despite having participed in the battle at hogwart. He may have fake his loyalty and end up with "the good guys", but he had still been associated for months with the last minister and this had chances to have limited his career perspectives. I may have totally wrong, but i tend to thinks that his hight position after the war can also be a argument. Another thing is that we can wonder what he tells to Aberforth exactly for him to believe and had confidence in him (obviously he totally had, otherwise he wouldn't have call him for the battle). It's possible that they had acquaintance in common who have assured him that Percy was truswhorthy, but we don't know. But i doubt that Percy just arrived and say "hi, i am the son of Arthur Weasley, the one who had deserted and was assistant to Fudge and Scrimgeour, i want to go back to my family but i can't, can you call me if something happen? It's possible that it was that and not go further (they just talk and Aberforth understand him), but i think that Percy had give him some guarantee other than that. It's very obscure anyway. What do you thinks?

Sorry for the long post, i hope you read me until the end of this!

I love getting longs posts like this, because I enjoy reading other people's perspectives, so no worries! 😄

I don’t think it matters much that Rowling didn’t specifically say that Percy was a spy. She had plenty of “ghost” or dropped storylines in the series, and even after the 7th book, she left quite a few unresolved story arcs. She also didn’t tend to focus too much on the plots involving minor characters, so I feel like Percy being a spy is just another one of those things that she ultimately didn’t want to waste too many pages on.

I agree with you completely about your first point. After the series ended, Rowling said, “Percy ended up as a high-ranking official under Kingsley.” What’s interesting though is that she also made the statement that, "Any Ministry officials who knowingly and willingly went with Voldemort's ideologies during the time when the Ministry was under his control were sentenced to Azkaban." So what exactly is considered ‘willingly’? It’s incredibly vague, because it would be hard to prove whether someone went along with the Ministry because they wanted to vs. they were afraid of the consequences if they didn’t (especially since law enforcement didn’t regularly use Veritaserum in questioning suspects due to its limitations). 

Percy was working directly with the Minister of Magic while it was under Voldemort’s control. He would have gone along with everything the Minister did - on the surface anyway - and would have been involved with the new laws based on the deplorable ideologies (more so than many other officials in the Ministry). Frankly, if he wasn’t a spy, that would have been enough to sentence him to Azkaban, regardless of his involvement in the final battle (because one good deed does not exonerate someone from past war crimes). So the fact that Percy didn’t go to Azkaban and became a high-ranking official instead is very telling; it implies that Kingsley had no doubts about his loyalty before the battle, which would only really be possible if Percy was proven to be a spy. 

I also agree that Aberforth would have needed to trust Percy in order to risk contacting him. If Percy were actually aligned with the Death Eaters, then Aberforth would have given him full access through a secret tunnel to Hogwarts and the people opposing Voldemort. In that situation, Percy could have led all the Death Eaters inside in a surprise attack and the battle would have been over before it began. Aberforth needed to have at least some assurances that Percy was not a traitor. 

As you said, it’s possible that he came to that conclusion after having a conversation with Percy, but I tend to doubt it. Aberforth was rather cynical and not overly trusting. I think Percy proved himself in some way (such as passing on vital information) in order for Aberforth to directly reach out to him. Also keep in mind that Aberforth was likely contacting as many allies as possible - Percy was only one person (as opposed to a big group of people that could have joined them), and yet Aberforth took the time to specifically let him know what was happening. That implies that there was a stronger connection between the two of them than just a quick conversation about loyalty. 

You made some excellent points, and thank you for sharing them! 😊

[jaskiersvalley]

Witchers didn't have daemons, that was a known fact. They were terrifying in their solitude, unfeeling and unaffected. Monsters made to fight monsters, they didn't need part of their soul for that. What the general public didn't know though was that the daemons weren't imprisoned somewhere, nor were they dead. The mages had figured out a way to separate daemon from child and force it into the most unnatural of shapes, another human. It meant two Witchers from a single child and the best part was, neither child nor daemon felt any connection to their counterpart once the process of the trials was complete.

In an effort to make sure full separation was certain and not even a sentimental link remained, daemons and children were separated and trained in different schools. Lambert had arrived at Kaer Morhen, still tripping over unfamiliar human feet and seething at being separated from his human. Over the years he tried to remember his human but, like all Witchers, they were given new names when they got their medallions and Lambert didn't think Luca still went by that name, nor would he be the scrawny kid Lambert remembered him as.

Whenever Lambert met another Witcher, he couldn't help but wonder whether it was his Luca that he was meeting. Though he wanted to believe that there would be a spark some kind of recognition there. He had been a little relieved when he met Letho and there was nothing there between them.

Of course Geralt had to be the first one to find his daemon. The smug bastard had found a bard who told people his daemon was a flea which was just like him; unnoticeable until he causes a nuisance. Most pitied him but Geralt had seen through the charade. He watched the bard without a daemon, curiosity and caution allowed him to permit Jaskier to tag along. The story tumbled out eventually.

"My great grandparents bought me. I was some kind of freak novelty some merchants were selling."

That was all Geralt had needed to hear and he was all but dragging Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen in the winter. Nobody had expected Vesemir's face to close off completely.

"I remember you!" Jaskier said in way of greeting. "You were a dick."

"Julian." The reply was terse and tight.

Lambert got a front view seat to seeing Geralt's face flit through more emotions in one second than he usually did in a whole year. The embrace was tight, Geralt's nose buried in Jaskier's hair.

Jealousy trickled through Lambert's veins. For all he knew, his human was already a dead Witcher. There was no link between Witcher and daemon, the trials severed it all completely so when one died, the other didn't even notice, let alone die from it.

"Why isn't he a Witcher?" Eskel asked, eyes glued to the happy reunion.

"Kaer Morhen needed money. Your cohort, the daemons didn't become Witchers. We sold them to the highest bigger."

Lambert didn't expect Eskel to punch Vesemir across the jaw but he was sure as shit glad he saw it. It meant he didn't need to do it on behalf of Geralt and Eskel. For the first time though, Lambert had an optimistic thought.

"It might mean he's living a happy life somewhere. I mean, look at Jaskier. He's had it better than us."

That was a topic that came up repeatedly over the next few weeks. They dreamed up all sorts of fancy lives Eskel's daemon could have lived, the wonders he would have seen. Through it all, Lambert bitterly wished his daemon could have been anything but a Witcher. Alas, Vesemir rapidly disillusioned him from that idea.

"He's become a Witcher, probably dead by now. And if you met him, you'd probably wish he was."

"Is that so?" Lambert drawled, emptying his tankard with a disappointed sigh. He couldn't believe it was empty again.

"You suffered the same shit fate I did. Your human was trained by Cats. Guxart turned into an utter dick."

The words were muttered darkly and Lambert tried not to take it to heart how much hatred Vesemir oozed. It made him all that much more determined to not go the same way as the bitter old man. Instead, he turned to Geralt with a leer. "So, is it gay or is it masturbation to want to get off with your own daemon?"

To say the table erupted in uproar was an understatement. Geralt was scowling somewhat fierce, arms crossed over his chest in protest. It only egged Lambert on further.

"I think it's incest," he declared with a shit eating grin. "Technically it's part of your family because you have the same parents."

"It's masturbation at most." Geralt was growling and glowering. "Because the daemon was still part of you."

Through it all, Eskel stayed rather quiet. It was only when the other two looked to him for opinion that he leaned forward, propping himself up on the table with a serious crease to his brows.

"I think-" the words were low and measured, "-that as long as everyone involved consents, it's fucking hot is what it is."

"The only thing it is," Vesemir finally butted in, "is a disaster waiting to happen. You don't want to meet your counterparts. Trust me."

Except that only made Lambert all the more keen. He wanted to both prove Vesemir wrong and also have what Geralt and Jaskier seemed to be hurtling towards. So, come spring, he set out with the intent of fulfilling one contract only. It was one that he would pay himself for in emotional fulfilment. He was going to find every Cat he could until he found Luca.

He met Gaetan along his travels who laughed in his face and said he was much more into snakes than wolves. That was an encounter Lambert was more than eager to cut short because he did not want to think about how Letho and Gaetan were oddly complementary. It was also another jolt of bitter jealousy, another Witcher and daemon had been reunited while he was still out there looking for his own. Assuming Luca had survived.

Meeting Guxart was a bit of an accident and Lambert wished he'd not encountered the old Cat. He growled and hissed about his stupid daemon who would probably have turned into a useless pigeon if left alone. There was obviously no love lost between them and Lambert desperately hoped he wasn't going to have the same fate.

Third time lucky, as the saying went. Lambert had trailed the new Cat for a few days, learning his habits and watching him work. There was no ounce of recognition or familiarity. But then again, the last time Lambert saw Luca, they were being dragged away from each other, foreign hands on his rapidly shifting body so his eyes could barely adjust enough to see the screaming, tear filled face of his human. It was quite possibly the worst last image he could have had of Luca.

Satisfied that the Cat wasn't someone Lambert wouldn't want to associate with, he approached in the evening when the campfire was still bright but slowly settling.

"I was wondering when my shadow would make himself known," the Cat said easily enough, barely glancing up from where he was whittling something.

The last two times Lambert had tried to be careful with exploring the idea of the Cat Witcher being his human. He was tired and cut straight to the point.

"Luca?"

By the fire the man froze. It was only luck that meant Lambert could hear the shuddering exhales of someone trying to keep up the façade of calm and collected. Finally, the man set his carving aside and stood with an easy smile that felt like a thousand lies.

"I go by Aiden." It wasn't a reply and Lambert knew it.

"I don't remember my name," he admitted softly, desperately hoping he wasn't about to make an utter tit of himself. "People call me Lambert. But I'm looking for my Luca."

He didn't expect to suddenly have an armful of Witcher clinging to him like their very lives depended on it.

"It's really you!" Aiden sounded close to tears. "You never did have a single name, usually going by Idiot, Pain In The Butt, Menace and so many other equally flattering names."

"Guess that never changed," Lambert laughed wetly. He held Aiden close, wishing he could feel as he used to when they were connected. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

It was just that start of something Lambert never thought he'd have. Easy companionship, shared disdain for the whole Witcher thing, stories upon stories of contracts gone well, gone wrong, or just plain gone. By the time winter rolled round, Lambert was firmly of the opinion that he and Aiden would travel together, fuck the Path and all the teachings about it being lonely. If Geralt could have his bard then they sure as hell could have each other.

Getting to Kaer Morhen, Lambert gleefully had an arm slung around Aiden's shoulder, introducing him to the rest of his family. He especially delighted in the flaring of Vesemir's nostrils as he took in the situation.

"Cats and Wolves don't mix. You of all people should know that."

"And you should know it's my life's mission to prove you wrong, old man," Lambert shot back.

Perhaps the most curious part of the whole winter was that Geralt was already back with not one, but two guests. Jaskier was a known quantity and Lambert greeted him warmly. The other though was a near silent man who watched them through eyes that looked way too old for his body.

"This is Cahir," Geralt said when the man didn't even introduce himself. "We'd heard rumours of a Nilfgaardian without a daemon and went to investigate."

"Not a Nilfgaardian," Cahir grumbled with a half-hearted glare.

It took Lambert a moment to figure out just why Geralt would bring such a man back before his eyes widened in delighted realisation.

"You think that-"

"Mhm."

That was the extent of their conversation because Lambert was cackling in delight. He looked Cahir over with a newfound interest. Young, like Jaskier but so very different in behaviour. As much as they'd wondered about Eskel's daemon's fate, this wasn't one they'd predicted.

Three days later Eskel was leading Scorpion into Kaer Morhen's courtyard. Lambert and Aiden were all but bouncing with excitement, not wanting to miss the moment Eskel met his daemon. In their opinion Geralt was drawing things out and making it less fun by not having them all meet in the stables. Instead, Eskel was allowed to venture into the kitchen in the company of Lambert and Aiden who were vibrating in anticipation.

"Eskel," Geralt greeted him with a warm hug. Jaskier and Cahir were behind him, even Vesemir had ventured out to see what the outcome would be. "It's good to have you home. Allow me to introduce you to Cahir."

The two looked at each other with guarded gazes and Eskel gave a terse nod. It was as anticlimactic as fuck. No recognition, not interest, nothing. Just a slow once over which, if Lambert had thought about it, was pretty much a mirror image of each other, equally considering and closed off.

Despondent, he dragged Aiden off, helping lay the table for a shared meal. Vesemir was quick to follow, there was no way to tell whether he was disappointed or relieved by the lack of drama. Geralt and Jaskier wandered out, oddly deflated. Not two seconds later there was an almighty crash from the kitchen and they were all racing back. Only to turn right around and flee after a glimpse of Cahir pinning Eskel to a wall and kissing him like Eskel was the last gasp of air for a drowning man.

"So, are they?" Jaskier asked, glancing towards the kitchen. Something else crashed and thumped but it was best not to investigate.

After a moment it was Vesemir who tiredly said, "Does it matter? It doesn't seem like they much care."

All in all, Lambert didn't think he cared either. Cahir and Eskel seemed happy enough in their new acquaintanceship, trying to figure out their past could wait, if they even wanted to explore it. Though Lambert had a hard time imagining Cahir as a goat. Over the years he'd heard Eskel lament enough about how his daemon preferred to take the form of a goat.

Regret came the next morning at breakfast when Eskel and Cahir appeared at the table, seemingly indifferent. If the rest of them hadn't see the two almost violently making out in the kitchen before disappearing to a bedroom, they wouldn't have guessed anything had gone on between them.

"Hey Geralt," Eskel called, face passive. "You know the difference between a goldfish and a mountain goat?"

"A mountain goat could live in Kaer Morhen but a goldfish couldn't?"

Eskel rolled his eyes. "No, a goldfish mucks around a fountain."

"And a mountain goat fucks around a mountain," Cahir finished the joke. He and Eskel high fived without looking at each other. Lambert only smacked his head on the table when Cahir continued, "And I am no goldfish."

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Bruce watched Lucius, or more specifically his hands, with a well concealed hostility.  If you didn’t truly know Bruce or weren’t well versed at reading suppressed emotions, you could believe it was just another artificially polite expression.  But Lucius had known Bruce since he was a child and Marinette hadn’t spent years fighting an emotional terrorist for nothing.  “I haven’t seen you all night and now I find you coopting this beautiful young lady’s time,” Bruce observed, his mouth tight.

Marinette eyed him apprehensively, subconsciously taking a half step back.  Her whole body stiffening.  Lucius took note of the change and moved slightly between the two of them and laughed politely.  He wasn’t sure what caused the change in demeanor but he still wanted to try to cultivate a business relationship with the young lady.  When they got the fabrics working, they would need a designer and she was not only clearly the perfect candidate for the position, they had already been considering her before everything she’d said during their dance.  

“Sorry, Mr. Wayne.  I assure you I was not avoiding you in favor of a prettier face,” he chuckled.  “Although I’ve been informed elusiveness seems to be a quality I exude unintentionally.” He winked at Marinette who smiled weakly at the attempt.

Bruce chuckled with him, tight and short exhales, his eyes never softening.  “I wouldn’t blame you at all.  She certainly is lovely.”

Marinette’s chest hollowed out, all the breath in her evaporating out of her chest as though it had never been there.  “Kind of you to say,” she rasped out just barely looking up to meet his eyes.

“Just saying the truth,” he assured her with more sincerity.  His eyes finally managed to soften as he looked at her, but immediately hardened again when he returned his gaze to Lucius.  “I’m sorry if Lucius has been keeping you captive.  I know he likes to talk and it can be hard to get him to stop, especially when he’s taken a particular interest in something… or someone.”  His eyes sharpened on Lucius as he spoke.  Lucius only raised his eyebrow in response, leaning back slightly as if to see Bruce a bit better.

Marinette immediately straightened back up, her eyes hardening.  All evidence of uncertainty and unease shattering as she did.  She had been the one to approach M. Fox.  She had been the one to coopt his time.  She had been the one manipulating the situation.  And now M. Wayne was going to try to twist this on M. Fox, who had been nothing but gracious and kind.  “I was just discussing innovation and the application process with M. Fox,” Marinette responded coldly before Lucius could.  “He was polite enough to entertain my questions.  He has been quite polite and charming and professional.”

“Were you thinking of working for WE?” Bruce asks perking up slightly.  

“You couldn’t pay me enough,” Marinette scoffed out before she could stop herself.  She immediately mentally face palmed.  This wasn’t the time for this.  Now was about Max, not her.  The mission had been successful she wasn’t going to blow it now by letting M. Fox see her overreactions.  

She let out a breath and looked back up with an overly wide smile.  “As I mentioned to M. Fox, I’m not really interested in technology.  I couldn’t imagine anything more boring than staring at numbers and code all day long,” she laughed in the way she’d seen Adrien laugh at events like this, an empty, meaningless laugh meant to indicate a lack of interest in the topic rather than actual entertainment, leaning toward Lucius as she said it, hoping to pull him into the conversation and rescue her from.

“It’s not my favorite part of the day either,” Lucius smiled graciously.  “I imagine you would still be good at it,” he assured her, “but I can’t say I blame you. I would likely react the same if faced with bolts of fabric and thread.”

Marinette smiled politely, grateful to him for the reprieve.  “Well that sounds interesting,” Bruce interjected.  “Perhaps we can discuss what would interest you during a dance.” He motioned toward the dancefloor and held his hand out toward her.

Marinette glanced down at the hand, a weight settling in the pit of her stomach.  If she gave in he’d have her for the duration of the song.  One-on-one.  No escape without creating a scene.  Trapped by the same societal conventions she’d used against M. Fox.  “Surely you must have more important guests to attend to,” she offered instead.

“I do not,” he assured her, sincerity radiating from his eyes.

Marinette opened her mouth to say yes, resigning herself to her fate when she felt a hand on her hip.  “There you are M’lady.  I lost you in the sea of people for a moment.”  Adrien prompted her to turn slightly so he could look her in the eyes. “You okay?”

Her shoulders, she hadn’t even realized had worked their way up to almost touching her jaw, instantly relaxed.  She gave him a relieved smile and squeezed his hand.  “I’m good, Kitty.  Thank you.”

“Is this your date?” Bruce inserted, eyeing him coldly, but held his hand out to him.  “Bruce Wayne.”

Adrien gave him his practiced, social smile, perfect for galas with strangers and potentially hostile associates.  “Nice to meet you, sir.  This is a very nice gathering.  Very kind of you to do this for the orphans,” his tone was bordering on openly hostile but keeping to the socially acceptable side of the border. Marinette choked at the statement. She hadn’t really thought about the intent of the gala since she’d made the plan.  When she’d made it, the purpose hadn’t had any bearing.  But now…

“Thank you.  It is an important cause to my family and myself.”  He missed the way Adrien squeezed Marinette tighter at his words. “You mentioned talking to Mr. Fox about innovation at Wayne Enterprises.  Perhaps you would like a tour of the building.  I can arrange one personally for you.”

Adrien pulled his lips into a tight, sickeningly artificial smile.  “How very generous of you.  Unfortunately, we won’t be in town that long.  We are scheduled to leave town Tuesday.”

Bruce looked between the two, forcing his body to not stiffen at Adrien responding for Marinette.  “Tell me about yourself, son,” Bruce smiled stiffly, noting that he had artfully left out his name, not that Bruce didn’t know it already, although the physical proximity to Marinette was unexpected.

It took almost all of Marinette’s experience as Ladybug to keep a poker face instead of letting her jaw drop in offense.  “Why don’t you let these young people dance, Bruce,” Lucius interrupted, detecting Marinette’s increased discomfort.  “After all, it’s cruel to make the young have to endure making conversation with the old guard like us.”  He turned to Marinette and Adrien with a kind smile.  “Make sure you don’t miss your opportunity to dance tonight.”

Marinette smiled at him gratefully.  “Not at all, M. Fox.  I found our conversation very fascinating.  Thank you very much for sharing your time with me.  It was much appreciated.  But I will take you up on your advice.”  She turned to Adrien and motioned to the dancefloor.  “Shall we?”

“Always,” Adrien smiled.  “Gentlemen.”  He nodded to them and guided Marinette across the dancefloor, taking great care to escort her as far from them as he possibly could.  He glanced around to make sure the men couldn’t see them and pulled Marinette into a comforting, all-encompassing hug.  “How are you really?”

Marinette held him tightly and buried her head in his chest.  “I’ll be okay.  I just… Thank you for the save.”  She laid her head on his chest as they swayed to the music.  Her breath slowly shifted from shaky to more steady.  She lost track of the number of songs that passed while she found her voice again.  When she could breathe normally again, she stood straight and smiled at Adrien.  “It worked.”

“It worked?” Adrien asked excitedly.

Marinette nodded and had to stop herself from doing an entirely inappropriate victory dance.  “He wants to meet Max on Monday.  Well, me too,” she cringed slightly, not looking forward to being involved beyond what she had done already.  “But! But, he was floored by Max’s invention. Like completely floored!  And knows about Rabler now.  He did not look happy at all about the news.”  Her grin widened as she remembered the encounter.  “I think Max is really going to be taken care of.  It went so well!” she squealed.

Adrien grinned back and hugged her.  “We have to let Max know.”

Marinette nodded.  “He’ll call us when he’s done.  We just need to stay up until then.”

Adrien nodded.  “Coffee it is then.  Do you want to leave now or look around?”  Marinette looked around quickly.  By the time she looked back at Adrien, her eyes had lost their light. She looked exhausted suddenly, drained by the experience.  Adrien gave her an understanding smile and squeeze.  The mission was over.  She didn’t need to be in mission mode anymore, or at least not high alert.  She just had the meeting on Monday and she was done. Now she could stop blocking any potentially interfering emotions and actually let herself feel again.  “Let’s get out of here and find a coffee shop then. We can take it back to the hotel and watch bad movies until Max calls.”

Marinette gave him a weak smile.  “Maybe popcorn and candy and drinks instead,” she offered. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Sooooo many drinks and ice cream.”

Adrien laughed and slung his arm over her shoulder to help guide her and comfort her at the same time.  They wound through the crowd making their way to the exit and freedom, where Marinette could finally breathe freely.  They had almost made it to the doors when they heard someone call Adrien’s name.  Adrien looked around and cursed under his breath.  “Hey again.”

“Leaving so soon?” Tim asked.  He looked between the two with a concerned expression.  It was awfully early in the night to leave already.

“Yeah, I think so.  It’s a nice event but I think we’re ready to go home, take off the stuffy clothes, and drink,” he gave him a charming, conspiratorial smile. Nobody their age wanted to be here and they all knew it.

“Oh that sounds like a brilliant plan,” the blonde woman next to Tim grinned.  “I wish we could do that.  But we have to at least wait until the announcement.  And we can’t drink.  But it would help handle events like this.”  She gave them a wide smile and held out her hand.  “I’m Stephanie.  Nice to meet you.”

Adrien smiled politely back.  “Adrien.  Hi.”

Marinette smiled civilly.  “Marinette.  Nice to meet you.”

Stephanie’s smile widened.  “Oh Timmy, make sure to keep this one away from Bruce.  Black hair, blue eyes, looks beautiful but haunted. He’ll adopt her in an instant.”

Tim laughed and rolled his eyes, drawing Stephanie’s attention to him, both of them missing the way Marinette and Adrien balked and Marinette’s entire body went rigid again.  “Bruce’s breaking that habit with today’s announcement.”

Adrien paled slightly.  This could go nowhere good, but it was like watching an akuma hit someone when you’re too far away to help.  It was going to happen no matter what.  The damage would be inestimable and all he could do was watch as it got worse and worse.  “Oh?”

“Yeah, our new brother… or rather their new brother, I’m not officially adopted, just unofficially the favorite child,” Steph winked at them.  Tim huffed playfully but didn’t contradict her.  It was easier to just let it go.  “Anyway, the new Wayne doesn’t have blue eyes. Does have black hair, is beautiful and looks haunted, so maybe it’s just the blue eyes that don’t matter so much anymore.”

“N…new brother?” Adrien stuttered, struggling to keep his voice even and polite.  The normal reaction to such news would be interest and happiness.  Well, they certainly had his interest.  The happiness part though…  He pulled Marinette tighter as he sent her a furtive look.  She was doing an admirable job of masking her response but he knew her. He knew the signs.  He knew her lips were a bit tighter than usual.  He knew her jaw was clenched harder than was normal.  He knew her breathing was harder than average.  He knew he shouldn’t be able to feel her pulse from here.

“Yeah!” Stephanie enthused.  “Duke.”

“We were supposed to wait for the announcement,” Tim chastised with no real heat behind his words.  “But yes.  That’s what this gala is really for.  To officially announce the adoption of Duke Thomas.  So, yet another ‘poor orphan’ joins the rest of us,” he joked.  “I swear Bruce just can’t help himself.  He sees a kid and instantly feels the need to protect and help.”

“So thoughtful,” Marinette rasped out, pretending like her entire chest wasn’t breaking apart and disintegrating in front of them.  “You must all be so excited.”

Tim looked at her for a moment but before he could analyze her tone or body language, they heard someone tapping on a microphone.  “That’s our cue,” Stephanie squealed.  “Looks like you might make it for the announcement after all.  It was nice to meet you if I don’t see you after.”  Tim and Stephanie waved before making their way to the stage.

Once the two were gone, Marinette’s eyes bulged as Tim’s words reverberated in her head.  This whole thing was to introduce a new child, another new child he took in, another addition to his family, another child he wanted and brought into his life instead of throwing them out.  Her eyes darted among the family members as they all made their way up onto the stage.  All standing behind the new member, smiling at him, hugging him, eyes shining in acceptance for him.  One big happy family, not wanting for anything… or anyone.

Marinette didn’t realize she had stopped breathing until her body forced a deep gasping breath, knocking her out of her stupor. She tore her eyes away so violently, she stumbled back, or maybe it was just that her resilience had disappeared with the words.  They should not be here.  They… she should never have come.  This was a stupid, terrible plan.  She had no right to intrude.  She had no right to be here… for this.

Her heart raced out of control.  Her whole body started shaking.  She couldn’t breathe.  Why couldn’t she breathe now?  But suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room.  Why wasn’t there air?  There had been air before, hadn’t there been?  She remembers being able to breathe earlier.  She thinks.  Maybe she made that up.  Maybe she hadn’t been able to breathe since she stepped in the room.

She stumbled again and reached out for support, never doubting it would be there for her.  Adrien responded instantly, bringing her into his chest and quickly guiding her out of the gala.  He whispered comforting and reassuring words as they moved, throwing empty smiles at anyone who bothered looking their way, as though helping his drunk date home, nothing scandalous or even unusual, nothing to look twice at.

They missed the eyes searching the crowd for them and the quickly covered up frown at finding them missing.

Chapter 3

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger 

[onceupona-chaos]

Cassian and Azriel's reactions to the Archeron sisters

Everything will be supported by the text. English is not my first language, so sorry for any possible mistakes. Be kind and respectful!

I will begin this post with the scene that was the starting point of my thoughts.

The two Illyrians paused their inspection of me long enough to note my sisters finishing up breakfast, Nesta in a pale gray gown that brought out the steel in her eyes, Elain in dusty pink.

Both males went a bit still. But Azriel sketched a bow—while Cassian stalked for the dining table, reached right over Nesta’s shoulder, and grabbed a muffin from its little basket.

Very often Azriel and Cassian show the same reaction to the sisters (in this case, they go still). The scene above is a perfect example of that and of how SJM is always very faithful to the differences between the couples: there's a difference of personality, which will be the one I'll focus here, and of "romantic status". Differently from Nessian, Elain and Azriel were in love with different people when they met each other. We don't know what was their first impression of each other yet, but with this in mind and considering their personalities, makes sense that they needed to get close first, trust each other, and then develop feelings (SJM writes slow burns after all).

Cassian was sizing up Nesta, a gleam in his eyes that I could only interpret as a warrior finding himself faced with a new, interesting opponent.

“I can imagine,” Azriel said. Cassian flashed him a glare. But Azriel’s attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.

In their very first meet, the males were paying attention to each Archeron, but the way they were focusing on them is different. Look at the wording:

sizing up, warrior, opponent;

attention, polite smile;

While Cassian and Nesta "size each other up like opponents" and are loud/rough in terms of personality, Azriel and Elain are both quieter and acting like peacemakers. Here, please remember Feyre noticing how their personalities are similar:

Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.

Basically while Cassian is always provoking Nesta, Azriel puts Elain at ease, because there's a difference of personality. It makes perfect sense that one of them is "enemies-to-lovers" and the other is "friends-to-lovers". Let's go back to the first scene:

“I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went. Cassian finished the muffin, licking his fingers. I could have sworn Nesta watched the entire thing with a sidelong glance. He grinned at her as if he knew it, too. “Ready for some flying, Nes?” “Don’t call me that.” The wrong thing to say, from the way Cassian’s eyes lit up.

Even though Cassian and Azriel's first instinct is the same (they go still), how they proceed is again different (Azriel extends his hand like a gentleman and Cassian is all cocky grins).

Cassian pressed one of his knives into Nesta’s hand. “Ash can kill you now,” he said with lethal quiet as she stared down at the blade. (...) “I told you to come to training,” Cassian said with a cocky grin, and strode off.

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.” (...) “It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.”

Just like Cassian, Azriel offered a blade to an Archeron sister so she could defend herself. Again, let's look at the wording:

Cassian pressed the one of his knives;

Azriel pressed the hilt of the legendary blade;

And again, Cassian: cocky, provokes Nesta; Azriel: softly, gently, puts Elain at ease. Of course, in the TT scene there's much more imagery (Light and Dark/ Death and the Fawn/ the fact that TT is not just one of Azriel's blades), but still both males have the same reaction when Nesta and Elain are about to face danger: they need to be able to defend themselves, so the males provide a blade.

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

They were speaking, Azriel with some urgency, but Cassian didn’t hear him, heard nothing but the roaring in his head before he said to no one in particular, “I’m going after them.”

They also have the same reaction when the sisters are in danger. As I said before: their first reaction is very similar or even the same in some cases. The major difference here is that we have Cassian's PoV and not Azriel's, but the similarities are so clear:

Unspoken debate = said to no one in particular

I'm getting her back = I'm going after them

Firstly it seems the males are lost in thoughts, so concern about the females, and then they declare they're going to rescue them.

“Do you know,” Cassian drawled to her, “that the last time I got into a brawl in this house, I was kicked out for a month?” Nesta’s burning gaze slid to him, still outraged—but hinted with incredulity.

“What did you see,” Azriel said, and I tried not to flinch as I found him at my other side, not having seen him move. Again. Elain paused halfway up the stairs. Slowly, she turned to look back at him.

It is also very interesting to notice how Cassian and Azriel are the ones that can intervene when the females are "experiencing" their powers. It's like Nesta and Elain use them as some kind of anchor - they both are "lost" in their powers, but can focus on Cassian and Azriel. If Cassian can help Nesta do a scrying, it's Azriel who listen and gets that Elain is a Seer.

Now one of my favorite parallels:

“Are you … happy?” Shadows darkened his hazel eyes. “I’m getting there.” A halfhearted answer. (Cassian, ACOFAS)

Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn’t stop herself from touching his shoulder. (Azriel, ACOSF)

Exact same wording. In ACOFAS, Cassian was struggling with his situation with Nesta, and in ACSF it's Azriel who is suffering because of his situation with Elain.

Speaking of ACOFAS, let me highlight this moment:

Nightmares about the moment when Cassian was near death and Nesta was sprawled over him, shielding him from that killing blow, and Elain—Elain—had taken up Azriel’s dagger and killed the King of Hybern instead.

I just find very interesting how the two biggest moments between the couples are brought up here. SJM could had just said Elain killed the king with TT, but she chose to associate that moment with Azriel (she does that very often). Anyway, moving on...

Amren drained her wine and said to Cassian, “Nesta has a week. One more week to find the Trove with her own methods. Then we seek out other routes.” She threw a nod toward Azriel. “Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.”

Cassian and Azriel looked to Rhys, who merely sipped from his own wine.

Here, we have the males reacting to the females getting involve with the Trove (Azriel stiffened/ Cassian growled); then Amren speaks with Cassian about Nesta, and with Azriel about Elain; then both males look to Rhysand

And of course (I'll be brief because there are lots of posts about these lines):

Stupid, stupid, stupid— He didn’t care. Didn’t give a shit as she rose up on her toes, her mouth nearing his—

It was so wrong. He didn't care. He needed to know what her skin tasted like (...) Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

In both bonus chapters, Cassian and Azriel "don't care" about the possible problems and struggles, all they care about is the female before them. Not only the wording is the same, but in both cases the couples almost kiss.

That's the formula right there.

(Her scent) It hit him in the gut so hard he could barely focus, and it took five centuries of training to make himself meet her eyes rather than let his own roll back into his head.

Her arousal drifted up to him and his eyes nearly roll back into his head at sweet scent.

Basically the way these two are affected by the Archeron sisters is practically the same in both bonus chapters. Speaking of that:

I assumed seeing Nesta went about as poorly as could be imagined, because my lesson the following morning was longer and harder than it’d been in previous days. I’d asked what, exactly, Nesta had said to him to get under his skin so easily. But Cassian had only snarled and told me to mind my own business, and that my family was full of bossy, know-it-all females.

Three days passed with no word from Cassian. He’d been replaced in training by a stone-faced Azriel, who was more aloof than usual and wouldn’t even give her a smile.

Cassian in the next morning was still affected by what happened in Wings & Embers, and Azriel - three days later - was still affected by what happened in his bonus chapter. Not only that: these are the only direct references to the bonus chapters in the actual books. The major difference here is that SJM wrote Elain as Azriel's secret, so only the readers that have access to the bonus chapter know why he couldn't even smile (very similar to "Cassian only snarled"). Naturally there's a difference of personality, too: Cassian snarling, totally pissed off/ Azriel more aloof, stone-faced.

It's very clear the direction SJM is going.

[thatfanficstuff]

Make Me Forget (Part 1) - Elijah Mikaelson

Pairing: Elijah x reader

Warnings: angst

A/N: Celebration Summer #8. There is a part 2 to this so don't fret. Prompt is Person A gets injured Person B is not happy.

wc: 1759

***

Elijah Mikaelson and his family had left Mystic Falls to move to New Orleans months ago. And they’d left you behind in the process. After he swore to you that you’d never have to be alone again, he’d left you with little more than a letter telling you it was for the best. Associating with his family was dangerous. He couldn’t put you in danger. It would be better if you forgot about him. All of them.

What a load of shit. Elijah had swept into your life and turned everything upside down. For the first time you were a priority to someone other than yourself. It didn’t take long for him to become the center of your universe. You moved into the house and became part of the family. Klaus and you would create art and bitch about the Scooby gang. Rebekah took you shopping. Kol would try to get you into trouble while you tried to keep him out of it. And you succeeded for the most part. You’d kept him from getting killed by Jeremy and Elena. Surely, that was enough to cement your place in the family.

But they’d still left you. And it had been Elijah’s doing according to the rest of them. You texted and called and they told you how much they hated leaving you behind but Elijah had put his foot down. Threatened to leave them all if they went against his wishes.

Rebekah did admit it was dangerous at the moment. A bit of trouble with a pregnant werewolf and some witches. She still insisted it would be better with you there. That they’d all protect you.

Klaus begged you to come to his rescue. Elijah and the werewolf would be the death of him, he swore.

Kol just missed his friend. He spent hours talking about all the things the two of you could do if you were there.

Elijah was silent. There hadn’t been one answered phone call or response to any of your texts.

Rebekah swore he missed you. That he was a miserable bastard without you.

Klaus and he had argued terribly when the hybrid threatened to fetch you from Mystic Falls and bring you home where you belonged. Elijah had yelled and destroyed half the room.

Kol said when there was a moment of peace, Elijah sat alone and stared at a picture of you. “I caught him crying, Y/N. It was horrible,” he told you, dramatically.

You didn’t necessarily believe any of them. After all, he found it so easy to leave you, why would he brood over your absence. But you missed your family. You were going to New Orleans. Even if Elijah was angry with you for going against his wishes, the rest of them would welcome you with open arms. You’d just have to stand your ground with the suited Original.

There were probably a thousand better ways to get to New Orleans, but you took a bus. It was cheap and you didn’t have to drive. And even better, it didn’t involve flying. You hated to fly. You stepped off the bus and adjusted your backpack on your shoulder. You’d decided to travel light. While you intended to stay forever, you weren’t sure everyone else would be on board with that. If you did stay, you knew Rebekah would be more than happy to take you shopping to replace your clothes. And Klaus would pay for them if Elijah didn’t. It used to bother you when they spent their money on you, but you’d long gotten over it.

After typing in the address on your phone, you started to follow the walking directions. You were actually quite close to your destination when you were yanked into an alley. Almost before you had a chance to process what had happened, teeth tore into your neck. Son of a bitch. You fumbled in your bag as the vampire drank deeply. Your fingers wrapped around your stake and you slammed it into the asshole attacking you. He hissed in pain and stumbled back giving you the chance to pull it out and stab him again with more precision.

He collapsed at your feet and you stepped over him as you pulled a rag from your bag. You pressed it against the wound and tried to look inconspicuous as you stumbled the rest of the way to your family. Your head spun as you reached the door and you knocked quickly.

The door flew open to reveal none other than Kol Mikaelson. He grinned at seeing you, but it faded immediately when he noticed the state you were in. He grabbed your bag in one hand and placed the other on your arm to lead you into the house. “What happened to you, Darling?”

You made a sound of annoyance. “Guess.”

“Don’t be cheeky.” He dropped your bag by the stairs and continued to steer you through the house. “Brothers, we have a visitor,” he said when the two of you reached a library. Nik and Elijah’s heads snapped in your direction.

Nik stood in front of you in a flash. “Bloody hell, love. Can’t stay out of trouble for five minutes, can you?” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s good to see you at any rate. Come, Kol.” The hybrid strode from the room, dragging his protesting brother along with him.

A moment later, Elijah stood in front of you. Dark eyes stared at you as he lifted a hand to your neck. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he pulled the rag away to get a view of the damage. His hand clenched at his side and you flinched. He’d never hurt you, but it was rare to see him so angry. And you weren’t certain if he was angrier at the vampire that attacked you or you for being there.

His lips pursed as he stared at you a moment longer, then he bit into his wrist and offered it to you. You drank enough to heal then stepped back. He strode away to the far side of the room. Keeping his back to you, he hooked one hand around the back of his neck and rested the other on his hip. “What were you thinking coming here? Did I not make myself perfectly clear that you are not welcome here?”

“I missed you.” God, did that reasoning sound pathetic to you now. How had you ever thought that would be enough for him?

He was back in front of you in a flash. “You deliberately went against my wishes. You followed us here despite knowing I did not want you here and look what happened. Do I need to say anything else to prove my point that it is too dangerous for you to be near us?”

“This had nothing to do with you, Elijah. This was some random asshole vampire picking the wrong person to snack on. I killed him for it.” Frankly, you didn’t understand how he could go from being madly in love with you to not wanting you around overnight. “Everyone else wanted me to come. Didn’t you miss me at all?”

“How could I miss someone that cares nothing for their own wellbeing?” he stated quietly, making you flinch again. It would have been better for him to yell. At least then you’d know he was simply angry with you. His monotone delivery made you believe that he simply didn’t care. Tears instantly flooded your eyes. Why had you asked that question when you were so afraid of the answer? He stepped past you and stopped at the door. “You can stay the night. Tomorrow you leave New Orleans and you will not return,” he said in a low tone. Then he was gone.

You didn’t move as tears streamed down your face. Vaguely you were aware of Elijah and Nik yelling at each other elsewhere in the house, though you couldn’t make out the words. Then you were pulled into a firm chest as arms wrapped around you. “Elijah’s an idiot, darling,” Kol whispered to you.

When you just continued to cry without saying anything, he swept you up in his arms and carried you to one of the chairs. He sat and placed you on his lap. You leaned against his chest and he played with your hair in an attempt to calm you. “It will be all right, Y/N. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. You and I can get an apartment on the other side of town. We’ll put it in your name and you can tell Elijah to fuck off when he wants in.”

That pulled a laugh out of you though it sounded rather pathetic. “At least I know why it was so easy for him to leave now. I mean, what a bother I must have been. I always wondered what he saw in me and now I know. Nothing. God, you’d think it would be a relief to finally know, right? So why does it hurt so bad?”

“As angry as I am with my brother right now, Y/N, I don’t think—”

“No. It’s okay, Kol.” You sat up and wiped the tears from your cheeks. “You don’t have to lie to me anymore. Rebekah said him and the wolf seemed to be getting along. Maybe he’ll love her and it won’t be a lie.”

You stood and held up a hand to stop him when he moved to follow. “I’m not angry with you, Kol, but I need to figure out how to live without all of you. See, he told me he loved me and that he’d never leave me. That I’d never be alone again and he abandoned me at the first opportunity. And he took my family with him. And when I come back to all of you, he made it very clear that I am not wanted. I was prepared for him to be angry. I wasn’t prepared for him to not care.”

You paced the floor as you thought about your next step. Kol’s dark eyes followed you. He was at a loss at what to do, how to comfort you. He could beat the shit out of his brother but, while that might make him feel better, he doubted it would help you any. Suddenly, you snapped around to face him. “Compel me.”

His brows shot up. “What?”

“Compel me to forget. Just let me forget all of you.”

[saphirered]

Hopefully, this is not too vague... I was wondering if you could do fluff with Molly; his nickname for the reader is 'princess'. (I have had a rough couple weeks, found out some bad news regarding my dad's health, and am just wanting a little pick-me-up. You are literally my favorite writer of the lavender tiefling trio.)

A load of fluff with some hinted spice coming right up. Sorry about your dad, sweetie and hope things take a more positive turn. Either way, I hope this is the pick-me-up you're looking for. 😘

-

You’re no stranger to waking up alone but never does it stop you from reaching out to the spot next to you. When you’re not met with a soft groan or arms wrapping around you, pulling you close begging for another five minutes of peace you know your lavender tiefling has begun his day before you. Rolling over onto your back you stretch taking in a deep breath. Time to get ready for the day, maybe find some breakfast? Breakfast sounds nice.

Mollymauk walks down the beaten path, a skip in his step and a small bouquet of wild roses clasped in his hand. He’s been up and about for a good hour now and like the good carney he is he’s working on quite the show in his mind; a show that requires the aid of a pretty face, charming smile and honeyed words he alone cannot provide. No he needs assistance and if he plans on getting this assistance he better work for it. Okay, maybe it’s not his plan. Maybe this is all just the result of a major fuck up on his end but still, it will make for some good fun… if all goes well… and you agree… The fact he gets to pamper you is a huge bonus. It’s been a while since he’s gotten the chance to show you just how much you mean to him.

Could Molly just ask for your help? Of course he could. And would you agree to join him on this endeavour? How could you refuse that devilishly handsome man? But where’s the fun in that. Let’s keep things interesting. Raise the stakes a little bit and see where his charm will get him. Or perhaps more, see how long it takes you to catch on tp the mess he made and pray to the Moonweaver you’ll be merciful. A test of his charm perhaps? Whatever excuse best justifies his actions and desires to spoil you rotten.

Stretching your arms with one final yawn you leave your tent. It’s too early to be up but you best keep an eye on your tiefling before he gets himself thrown into jail and you have to break him out… again. Wandering the camp the other members of the Fletching and Moondrop Carnival of Curiosities are waking up and going about their morning business at their own paces. You search for Molly but when you don’t find him you take to the road, following it towards the town. If he’s caused any trouble there you’d find out soon enough.

A lovely melody reaches Molly’s ears. He knows exactly who it belongs to and hears you before he sees you. All he needs to do is follow your song. Curving over the elevation of the path he spots you, lost in thought. Smile on his face he approaches you, flowers behind his back, and joins in whistling along to the melody. The way your eyes light up at the realisation of his presence are enough to make his heart melt knowing that one creature could look upon him with such unconditional love.

“Good morning, your royal highness.” Mollymauk takes a bow befitting of greeting royalty if not a little exaggerated and offers you the flowers. While he tries to keep his gaze on the ground you catch him peaking for your response as you take the flowers from his grasp breathing in their scent.

“Good morning to you too. And thank you, I should say? What’s the occasion?” You ask, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth but you can’t help feel a little suspicious at Molly’s very deliberate theatrics.

“Can a most loyal servant not present his beloved princess with flowers?” Molly rises and you get the slightest flash of fang from the smile he offers you.

“You know I am never one to deny your gifts and gestures of affection. What I’m referring to are your apparent needs for theatrics.” You speak with eloquence feeling yourself slipping into the same act he’s putting on. Dammit Mollymauk, for playing into your actor side and letting you slip up into the role he’s setting you up for. You know damn well he’s aware of what he’s doing.

“I am merely your humble servant. A humble servant with impeccable manners.” You snort as Molly offers you his arm. You lace yours through his and he begins leading you back the way you came.

“Impeccable manners you say? Because I recall not but two nights ago copious amounts of drinks, illegal gambling and theft were involved. And let’s not even mention the… desecration of the fountain within the gaze of the Platinum Dragon’s statue.”

“You say that as if those of noble birth do not partake in such activities, princess.” Molly counters. Touché. As you’re about to take a step to the right fork of the road Molly gently pulls you into the left direction instead. Confused you give him another suspicious look but he hushes you leading you down the path.

You find yourself retreating within your thoughts trying to pinpoint whatever shenanigans Molly is up to, planning or has been up to and why the need to be secretive instead of just telling you. Molly couldn’t hope for a better moment for you to stop your interrogation for he fears any more prodding around for answers and he will spill the beans and come clean. He can’t hide a single thing from you when you’re determined and he knows it.

The path slowly turns from trodden earth to more fine sand until it fades into the beach. The sound of waves and a seagull or two make for a pleasant setting. You see just far enough away from the shoreline as to not become victim to the tides, is a basket set on top of a blanket. Molly leads you over, guides you to sit upon the blanket gracefully before plopping down himself with much less show. Within the basket you spot several packed goods. Molly takes a few out and sets them down upon the blanket, unwrapping them as he goes. Some bread, a selection of fine jams, some cheese and delicious sugary sweet pastries.

“Okay, time to drop the act. While I appreciate all this, what did you do and how bad is it?” Molly takes out a bottle of what looks like expensive champagne along with two glasses and pours them, handing one to you.

“What makes you say that?” Molly takes a sip playing it cool and innocent.

“The top shelf bottle of champagne that is very much above our collective pay grades. Where did you even get this?” You take a sip. It’s not bad but not the greatest you’ve ever had either. A weird taste that can only be suitable for some upscale party or the nobility passes out to their guests to impress them simply because of the associated name and or price tag. What can you say? Rich people.

Molly hesitates but drops the innocent act. Best he comes clean now. You’ve caught on fully. Game over. But that definitely doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy this delicious breakfast with him, can you? Mollymauk takes a slice of the fresh bread, adding a nice layer of strawberry jam and takes a bite. At least the expensive jam was worth the money. Then again, it wasn’t his money that paid for it. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t money well spent.

“Now, I need you to promise me one thing first, love. Promise me you’ll let me tell you the whole thing before you judge my poor decision making.”

“I can do that.” You lean back and relax taking one of the pastries and taking a bite. Bearclaws with cinnamon? Delicious. Let’s hope for Molly’s sake it will keep your judgement somewhat at bay.

“When we were doing our usual rounds and you were off on your own I may or may not have let it slip to someone who happens to be part of the local nobility, several someones to be more precise, that you may or may not be a princess in hiding. And I may or may not have played a little bit too deeply into the story…”

“Okay, that’s not actually that bad?” Just wait for the second part. It gets worse. On second thought. He may be regretting telling you and not just convincing you to hide away for the next few days in town until you’re back on the road.

“And these poor suckers may have fact checked it finding some evidence of a princess from another continent who supposedly is traveling in disguise. They came to see the show and I want you to remember they left a most generous donation along with an invitation for you to attend a ball held in your honour.” Molly awaits your response as you stop mid bite.

“So they left an invitation for a princess? What about it? Just don’t show up and done.”

“That would work if the local lord did not gently hinted at exposing said princess and sending the guards to return them to their family as they ran away and the good favour of either side of that royal family should greatly benefit this town. I’m sorry, princess but your presence has been demanded.”

Okay… This is bad. You do not feel like being hunted by the guards and it’s not like you can make an inconspicuous escape now people might look at you as royalty. You set down the pastry clasp your hands together closing your eyes. You inhale and exhale deeply as Molly briefly fears for his life.

“You… really need to learn to hold that tongue of yours, Molly. It’s getting you in all sorts of trouble.” He bites back a comment about using that tongue of his for plenty of other good things. He’s having trouble reading where you stand on this all and doesn’t know wether you’re upset with him or disappointed or if he has to be the one running for his life soon.

“Let’s talk to Orna and get some appropriate dress for the occasion ready and wearable even if that means she’ll have to sew us into our garments.” You sigh.

“Us?” He questions and he does not like the mischievous look on your face. Whatever you’re plotting, he hopes you have mercy on his soul.

“Oh, I will not be attending on my own. No, a princess does not go anywhere without their loyal servant. A princess needs their escort to attend to their every whim.” You hold your chin high as you move to sitting on your knees pushing your palm flush against his chest exercising a little pressure to push him to lean back onto his elbows.

“Every whim you say?” Molly asks with a devilish grin as you swing one leg over him gently keeping him in place with your body and wrapping your arms around his neck playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck. Maybe the turnout isn’t so bad.

“‘Every whim you say, princess’.” You correct mimicking his grin and leaning in closer. Molly goes to close the distance but you raise your index finger to his chin. “Ah-ah.”

“May I not kiss you now, ‘princess’?” He mocks and you give him a stern look.

“It’s unbecoming of a mere servant to make such a bold move.” You pull on his hair when Molly tries to land a kiss on your cheek rather enjoying the turn of events this morning.

“Yet you appear to be the one in full control.”

“He knows his place. Good boy.” You praise with a pat to his cheek and you guide his face to yours, your lips meeting in a deep kiss, the food forgotten. Molly’s hands dance over from your hips to your lower back pulling you closer to him. You earn an unsatisfied grumble when you pull away a moment too soon.

“Must you torture me so with your touch, princess?” Molly laughs fully aware what direction this is going, raising a hand to caress your cheek fondly.

“Will you finally learn how to behave?” You trace the peacock feathers curving up the side of his neck and jaw. You don’t get a verbal reply but instead Molly’s lips find their way to your neck leaving a trail of kisses and little bites as he goes enough to make you giggle and squeal in surprise whenever he finds just the right spot, taking your mind far away from the details of the fuck up that lead you here in the first place. Not that you mind anymore. If this is the treatment you get for being dragged into one of Mollymauk’s lies gone south you’ll gladly take it a thousand times over.

[queen--kenobi]

You Make Me Feel (Home Again, Whole Again) Part II

Story Summary: Down on your luck and your money, you decide to take a job serving the Republic. Your new job is to entertain clones. Of course, nothing is ever as simple as it seems. Certainly not when emotions become involved.

Pairings: Captain Rex x f!reader, eventually Commander Cody x f!reader, Commander Wolffe x f!reader, and Commander Fox x f!reader

Masterlist

Part I

Next Chapter

Chapter summary: Rex being gone for the first time is an adjustment. You begin to wonder just what you might have gotten yourself into.

Warnings: NSFT (PiV, f!recieving oral, hinted at BDSM tones), brief mentions of racism and classism through a sci-fi lens.

Word Count: 4.7 K

Author’s note: Honestly, this chapter is mostly fluff and plot with some porn. It nearly became super political because I have always associated Coruscant with DC lol whoops

The door to your apartment ‘whoosh’s shut behind you. You sigh and run your hands over your face.

 You knew that the survey was mandatory. They did gauge how much to pay you for your services based on what you said, but it still felt weird. Even with droids asking the questions and running through the data, it still felt... Weird. Weird was the best word for how it felt. It felt as if you were kissing and telling. Actually, the longer you think about it, the more you realize that the report makes things feel impersonal. 

 You don’t like the feeling.

 You contemplate what to do for a long moment before letting out another sigh. He’s been gone for less than a rotation, and you already miss him. It makes you feel pathetic. You take off your shoes. You don’t think it’s because you’re desperate, far from it. It was because Rex was the first to treat you so well. Yes, you had known him for a week, but the way he treated you was far above and beyond how others did. His reverence last night was something that you’d never experienced before, and now. Now you were addicted to it.

You make your way to your room. You need to go ahead and get yourself together. If this is how you’re acting the first time that he has to leave you, you can’t imagine how bad it will get in the future. Something tells you this isn’t a feeling that you can get used to. 

 You decide to take the time to make your office more comfortable. You have no idea when you’ll get another assignment. It could be awhile, or it could be relatively soon. This will at least keep you busy while you wait. That’s the important part right now, keeping yourself busy. If you keep yourself busy, then you’ll be fine. You won’t be stuck in a loop of increasingly worrisome thoughts.

 Time seems to take on a strange feeling, one that gives you an ever mounting sense of anxiety. You know part of your worry is about the money aspect. You got into this because you needed the credits, but you have no idea how it was going to work. This job wasn’t like a traditional sex work. For starters, the clones weren’t exactly paid. You aren’t sure where exactly the money was coming from, but you honestly didn’t care. You just wanted to make sure that you had enough to send back to your family. Things were getting very tough for them out there, even without the current political climate. 

 You find out about a week after Rex has shipped out. Part of the program demanded that you keep a log of your hours spent with a client. From what you had gathered, you would be paid a base rate depending on the type of clone trooper you entertained, and then if their performance in the field went up, you would get incentives based on that. You had been a little afraid to ask too many questions. This was in the name of the Republic. You felt cheap asking those types of things.

 You’re called into the same office complex that you had to do the post-client survey in. The transaction is fairly painless. You go in and talk to the person with your bag of credits. The person is human, which is odd to you. Then again, you suspect that might have been a tactical choice. You know for a fact that some humans get uncomfortable when their credits are handled by any non-humans. Several people back home had that problem, which you always found odd because they had no trouble hiring any non-humans to do work they deemed as menial. You had thought that the attitude on Coruscant would be much different, but it wasn’t. It was just more well-disguised. 

 Honestly, you can see why portions of the population don’t like it here. They were certainly on to something.

The bag is heavier than you expect it to be. You had a vague idea of what your base rate was going to be. The bag clearly had more than that in it. You pause. You open your mouth and close it. You aren’t sure if you should say anything. The woman behind the desk lets out a little snort.

 “You got lucky, kid.” She tells you. “Take it and don’t question it.”

 “I- Yeah. I won’t. I need all the luck I can get.” Thankfully, you have another bag with you that you can place the other bag inside. It’s a closed one, which makes you feel better. 

 “That’s the spirit.” The lady waves you away. You wait until you get into the safety of your apartment to count it, making sure to lock the door behind you. Something about the weight of the bag made you paranoid. The bag had a flimsiplast with it. You read over it quickly.

 Well.

 Well, fuck. You sit back after reading it. You aren’t sure if you’re that good or if Rex really needed what you gave him. The amount isn’t ridiculous, but it is well over what you expected. You bite your lower lip. You’ll have to think of something special to do for him when he gets back. Yes, he didn’t have anything to do with this end of the business, but you felt as if he deserved it. Scratch that. He definitely did deserve something nice. The man worked too much and didn’t get nearly enough in return. You hum softly in thought. You needed to set aside some for regular expenses, but you would have enough left over to do something like buy a nice set of lingerie to surprise him with. That thought gets your mind going. Yeah. You could work with this.

 When you think about Rex and the other clones, you realize that you don’t know nearly as much as you should about the war efforts. So whenever you have some downtime, you begin looking into old holojournals about it. Well, as many as you can find. It’s more than a little difficult to find any information on certain fronts. You aren’t sure if it’s because the operations need to be kept secret or if it’s a censorship issue. You know better than to ask. Instead, you find what you can and read it. You end up spending hours pouring over your datapad. You never realized how much political knowledge you lacked until you started reading about it. It’s downright fascinating.

 You’re curled up in your office chair going over some the holojournals from the very beginning of the war. You had the day off but didn’t want to stay in your apartment. It felt empty somehow. You frown and reach for your datapad to make a note of something. Some of the names in the holojournal weren’t familiar to you, and you want to make sure you understood everything. The list was growing steadily longer as you read. It was both encouraging and discouraging. It gave your mind something else to fixate on other than the growing worries about your parents, your financial situation, and your whole existence in general. However, each entry also functioned as another to do on an already busy schedule. It also didn’t help that knowing more about politics and the current undertakings made you realize just how fucked things are.

 You don’t hear the ‘whoosh’ of the door as it opens, you’re so absorbed in what you’re reading. A knock on the frame makes you look up. It’s Nikali from upstairs. You’d met him when you were originally onboarded. You set your datapad to the side. He seems to be in a decent mood.

 “You reading about the war?” He nods towards your datapad. The question seems mostly genuine. It’s probably a lead into something, but it feels like it’s a lead into something good. You nod.

 “Yeah. I realized I didn’t know as much about it as I thought I did. I thought I should fix that.” You give him a sheepish smile. “What’s up? How can I help you?”

 “It seems like you’re really researching.See, I would have just done basic research and called it a rotation.” He smiles. You still aren’t entirely sure of his intentions. “I just wanted to check on you, see how you’re doing.”

 “I’m doing pretty well.” You smile at him. You’re fairly certain this is genuine kindness and not some sort of set-up. “I feel pretty good about this.” How could you not feel good about it? You had a stack of credits handed to you not long ago. He nods.

 “Good! Because, well. We normally just try to keep people at your level with just one or two so you guys don’t get overwhelmed. We know that some of these commanders can get... intense sometimes.”

 “I haven’t run into that problem.” You can’t help your remark. You imagine that if Rex could be if he was in a bad mood, but you think it would take a lot for him to do that. No doubt you’d have to reassure him afterwards. Nikali smiles again.

 “I’m really glad to hear that!” He pauses for a second. “I bring it up because we’ve been losing some people lately. You know how it is. We might need to go ahead and have you work with some others.”

 “Sure. If that’s what you need.” You aren’t going to say no to the extra credits. Something twists inside of your gut for a second. What are you going to tell Rex? You nearly shake your head. Both of you were adults; he would understand the nature of the relationship. He surely would get that. “I assume you’ve got someone in mind.”

 Nikali nods. “I’m going to send the files over to see if you would want to work with any of them. We’ve got a couple in mind for you. You can read them over and see if you’re interested in any of them.”

 “Sounds good. I’ll go over that tonight.”

 “Good! I’ll send the filers over right away.” He practically chirps before leaving. You resist the urge to sigh. He was friendly enough, but you could tell that it was more along the lines of being friendly with an employee rather than genuine friendliness. You don’t know why that bothers you.

 Later that night, once you’re home and debating the merits of take-out vs a home cooked meal, you hear a knock on your door. Your heart leaps in your throat, but you shake your head. You would have gotten some sort of indication if Rex was coming back by now, right? So it couldn’t be him. You make your way over to the door. Part of you hopes it is him, and your core clenches at the memory of what happened last time. You check to see who it is. 

 You’ve never punched the passcode in faster in your life.

 “Rex.” You breathe. He smiles at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Maker, his eyes are so warm. You motion for him to come inside, and he does. The door shuts behind him.

 “I wa- Mmph!” You cut him off abruptly by taking his face in your hands and kissing him hard. He melts into your touch, both of his hands coming up to cradle your face. You drop one of your hands to his pauldron. When you pull away, he looks almost dazed.Both of his hands drop from your face down to your shoulders.

 “Hi.” You breath, your voice suddenly tinged with shyness. Rex seems slightly dazed, as if he wasn’t expecting that. “I missed you.”

 That earns you an amused eyebrow raise. “Never would have guessed.”

 “In my defe- Mmmmhhhmmmm.” He cuts you off this time, surging forward to kiss you. One of his hands comes back to your cheek while the other goes to the base of your neck to pull you closer. You sigh into the kiss, and he’s quick to pull you even closer. When he turns you so that your back is towards the wall, you let him. He backs you up against it with slowly increasing confidence. You nip at his bottom lip, and he’s quick to part his lips. It’s not a practiced motion when he runs his tongue along the seam of your lips, but you can tell he’s a quick learner. When you both need to breathe, both of are panting somewhat, chests rising steadily. 

 “I missed you too.” He murmurs softly. His admission is quiet, almost as if he’s unsure of himself, unsure if he’s allowed to miss you at this point in the relationship. You smile at him. His hand is still on your cheek, so you press a soft kiss to the inside of his wrist. He lets out a soft shaky noise, one you almost miss.

 “Can I.” He takes a deep breath. “I want to take you to bed and take care of you. Make up for me being gone. Can I?”

 “Of course.” You shimmy out from between him and the wall and take his hand. You gently lead him back towards your room. He’s looking at you with that soft edge, and it makes your heart melt. As soon as the door to your bedroom shuts behind the two of you, he’s pushing you gently but insistently towards the bed. You walk backwards until your calves hit the bed. You fall back, quickly sitting up on your elbows so you can watch him. Rex undoes his armor with deft, practised motions, stripping until he’s left in nothing but his blacks. You watch him with baited breath. He places one knee in between your legs on the bed and quirks an eyebrow at you. You take the silent cue and scoot up the bed.

 Once you’ve moved up to the head of the bed, Rex follows. Gently, he pushes you legs apart so he can settle between them before he drapes his body over yours. He molds himself to you. His weight is comforting. He keeps his weight off of your upper body by using his forearms. He places them so his hands can go to your face. He kisses you with a startling intensity. It’s slow and unhurried, and you groan into the kiss. The two of you stay like that for a while. Both of you are clearly trying to take your time with the other. At some point, it becomes too much, and you roll your hips. He pulls away with a soft noise. You’re pleased to see his chest is heaving some, and his eyes are dark.

 “Look at you.” He murmurs softly, brushing stray hairs away from your face. “Maker, you’re a dream.”

 “Flattery will get you everywhere.” You tell him. He gives you a look, which makes you laugh. You shift so you can get your hands on the hem of his blacks. “Take this off. I want to see you.”

He shifts, tossing his shirt up over his head and to the side. You work on worming yours off as well. Rex shifts so he can start placing kisses all along the column of your neck, down your shoulders, and to your collarbone. You run your hands along the broad planes of his back and chest. You want to memorize the feeling of his under your hands. He lets out a stutery breath when you drag your nails lightly down his back. You do it again, digging a little harder. He arches into your touch, eyes fluttering closed. You lean up to nip at the juncture of his neck and shoulders. He lets out a startled noise that morphs into a moan. When you pull away, he gives you a flat look.

 “I told you I’m going to take care of you tonight.” He reprimands you. A slight amount of heat makes its way into his words. You give him a cheeky grin.

 “Yes sir, Captain sir.” Your tone matches your grin. Rex’s eyes grow darker with lust, and you file that information away for later. 

 “Don’t act like a brat. It doesn’t suit you.” His words have some heat behind them, but not enough that you feel like he’ll follow through on any threats. He bends his head down again and lightly nips at your neck as if to prove a point. You gasp, and you can feel him smile. 

 Rex takes his time, lazily exploring your body. It’s like he wants to map out everything, make sure he knows every spot that makes you squirm and gasp. By the time he gets your pants and underwear off, you’re nearly desperate. You’re searching for any kind of friction. He groans when he sees the damp spot on your underwear.

 “You’re soaked.” He sounds almost awe-struck when he runs his thumbs along your outer lips. You nod.

 “Only for you. Fuck, no one else can do this to me.” It’s true, but you also want to see how he’ll react. He lets out a noise under his breath that you can’t place. It’s somewhere between a whimper and a growl. He looks at you, and kark. You’ll never get tired of him looking at you like that. The way he looks at you takes your breath away. He keeps eye contact with you as he parts your folds with his fingers and runs his tongue from the bottom of your pussy all the way to the top. You gasp, your hands coming to the back of his head. Rex’s eyes darken, and he repeats the motion but with more confidence. It’s not long before your thighs are trembling around his head.

 What’s getting to you the most is his eye contact. The only time he’s not looking at you is when his eyes are closed. He makes noise like he’s a man starved and has just been given his favorite meal. You whimper. The entire time you give him gentle praise, telling him how good he looks like this and what he’s doing right. You notice the way he ruts a little into the bed, as if he can’t help himself. It’s a heady feeling. You can’t believe the amount of power you have in this moment.

 “Rex.” You try to inject some sort of commanding edge into your voice. You move one of your hands from the back of his head. He knows exactly what you’re looking for and shifts so he can hold your hand again. He uses his free hand to slide a finger into you. You keen at the feeling. He fiend that spongy spot inside of you with very little effort, and you buck your hips up towards his mouth. Rex is a quick learner, so it’s not long before he slides another finger inside of you and curls both of them towards that spot. 

 Despite the noises he’s making, Rex takes his time taking you apart. Your hips roll at a steady pace as you chase the feeling of his fingers and tongue. When your orgasm surges to the breaking point, it’s not so much a drop as it is a wave. Rex doesn’t so much rip your orgasm from you as gently takes it from you. He works you through it, keeping the same steady pace as before and not faltering. It’s not too much at all. Honestly, you could stay like this for a long while. You imagine he wouldn’t object. Still, you push gently at his head. When he lifts his head up, you can’t stifle the groan at seeing your slick on his chin. He watches the rise and fall of your chest.

 “I need you to fuck me.” His eyes darken, and he nods. The noise when he pulls his fingers from you is positively obscene, but you don’t care. You reach behind you and grab sightlessly for a pillow. As he shucks off the rest of his blacks and his greys, you get a pillow in your hands and slide it under your lower back and hips. Rex drapes himself over you again. He looks into your eyes, and you nod.

 Both of you groan when he slides into you. Your toes curl. Automatically, your legs move up to wrap around his waist. Rex stays still for a moment. His nostrils flare as if he’s trying to exert some form of self-control. He takes a hold of your chin again and kisses you. Slowly, he begins to move. His lips never leave yours. One of your hands goes to the back of his neck while the other goes to his shoulders. You lightly rake your nails along his spine again, and he makes a keening noise into your mouth. You dig a little, and you’re rewarded with a deeper thrust.

 Rex keeps the rhythm slow and deep. Eventually, the two of you stop the kiss, but he keeps his face close to yours, noses nearly touching. You’re breathing in sync with one another, and Gods. You’ve never felt something like this before. This is what people talk about when they talk about making love. Rex makes you feel adored and cherished just through his actions. You can feel another orgasm beginning to wash over you. He drops his head to your shoulder.

 “Kark. I can feel you tightening.” He nearly whimpers into your skin. “You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum for me. Can you do that? For me?”

 You throw your head back and nod vigorously. “Anything. Anything you want, Rex.”

 He does let out an actual whimper at that, and that’s what sends you over the edge. You dig your nails into his back and bow towards him. You try to pull him closer to you, impossible close. Your orgasm apparently triggers his, and fuck, if that’s not the hottest thing.

 The two of you lay there for a moment, simply basking in one another’s presence. Slowly, Rex moves to prop himself up on his elbows. He slides out of you. You can feel the combined mixture of your cum seeping out of you. Rex looks transfixed for a moment.

 “I’ll go get a rag.” He clears his throat after a second. You huff a soft laugh as you watch him go. When he comes back, he cleans you up gently. You take the rag from him before he can get up.

 “I’ll deal with this.” You tell him. You swing your legs off the bed before he can fight you. You hear him huff as you slip into the fresher. When you come back, he put the bottom part of his blacks back on and is laying down. You smile softly at him and pad into the room.

 “You didn’t have to get dressed.” You tease him. You pause for a moment and consider the possibility of putting his shirt on but decide against it. Instead, you slip under the covers.

 “I know. I just don’t know how long I have before they’ll need me.” He seems reluctant to leave you already. He wastes no time in joining you under the covers. As soon as he’s comfortable, you move so that you’re resting somewhat on his chest. 

 “Next time, if you can, give me warning when you’re coming back.” You murmur. “I wanted to surprise you.”

 “You don’t need to do that.” He counters, arms coming up to make sure that you’re resting securely on his broad chest. You idly run your hands over his muscles. He shivers at your gentle touch. 

 “I want to.” You pout. You look up at him. “I had plans, you know. I was going to dress up all cute for you.”

 That clearly piques his interest from the look in his eyes. “You don’t have to.” He repeats, his tone a little more firm. You exaggerate your pout. 

 “I thought you’d want to see me in lingerie. I even found a set in white and blue.”

 Oh, that thought clears get to him. His nostrils flare for a second as he takes a deep breath. His eyes gain that slightly hungry quality again. “If that’s what you want, I’m not going to stop you.”

 “I thought you might like the idea.” You smile at him. It’s hard to keep yourself from laughing. You let your head drop back down onto his chest. Your thumb sweeps in a broad motion across one of his biceps. “Do you have any idea how long you’re here for?”

 “None. I’ll most likely have to ship out sooner than later.” You nod in response. The two of you stay like that for a long moment. It’s nice. He’s a surprisingly grounding presence. You catch yourself nearly dozing off several times. Rex shifts, and you realize that he’s steeling himself to ask something. You look up at him. His expression is careful neutral, but you can see something in the way his brows are a little pinched together.

 “Have they given you anyone else?” His question is a little halting, as if he’s afraid of the answer. You sigh and shift so you don’t have to crane your neck to look at him.

“They want me to, yeah.” You let out a long sigh. “If that makes you uncomfortable, I can say no.”

 Rex shakes his head. You can tell he doesn’t like the idea, though. “If that’s what you need to do, then do it.”

 “I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you.” You counter.

 “Don’t worry about me.” He says, his voice oddly firm.

 “Yeah, well. Too late.” You counter. “I’m not- I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or hurt you.”

 “What I want doesn’t matter.” He responds, almost curtly. His tone holds a note of conviction to it that hurts your heart. You shift so you can place a hand on his cheek. You telegraph the movement. Rex nearly jerks away from your touch. 

 “It does to me.” You respond softly. You pause. A thought occurs to you, and you bite the inside of your lip. “What if... They’re not going to give me people randomly. I don’t think. Would it help if you had some say in that?”

 “What do you mean?” He pushes a pillow further under his head to prop it up better.

 “I mean, there’s got to be people you wouldn’t be comfortable sharing me with, so. What if I tell you who they want to give me, and you get final say?” You watch his face intently. Rex’s brows are furrowed, and his lips are pursed. You can see his expression lose some of the hard edges as he thinks. Finally, he nods.

 “That would work.” It’s clear that he still isn’t thrilled with the idea, but he’s clearly more okay with this situation. He looks down at you. “Were you given a list already?”

 “Yeah. I can show it to you. Not now, though.” Your tone makes it clear you want to enjoy this moment for just a little longer. The corners of Rex’s mouth twitch. He runs his thumb across your bicep.

 The two of you talk softly for a little bit longer. You aren’t even aware of how sleepy you are until you can barely keep your eyes open. Your head keeps on dropping, which makes Rex let out a soft chuckle.

 “You’re tired. Go to sleep.” His voice is full of exasperated fondness. 

 “But what if you have to go?” Your voice is muffled as you speak into his chest. “Don’t. Don’t wanna miss anything.”

 You can feel his breath stutter for a second. You wonder if you’ve done something wrong. Your fears are soothed when Rex shifts so he’s laying down more comfortably. He pulls you closer to him.

 “I’ll wake you up before I go.” He promises before turning out your lights.

[baya-ni]

The Queer Appeal of Sk8

Recently @mulberrymelancholy reblogged a post of mine with a truly galaxy brain take about how Sk8 “is a show made for queer fans” and generally how sports anime often depicts love and relationships in a way that’s more accessible and relatable to ace/arospec people than other mainstream media does.

Just, *chef’s kiss* fucking brilliant. I urge you to read their post here (note I’m referring to the reblog not the actual post).

And basically, it got me thinking about this concept of Sk8 as a Queer Show, and the kinds of stories and dynamics that tend to attract queer audiences in droves, regardless of whether its queerness is made explicit or hell, whether that queerness was intended.

And that’s what I’ve been pondering: What are the cues, markers, or coding, in Sk8 that set off the community’s collective gaydar?

I obviously can’t speak for the community. So here’s what aspects of the show intrigued me and what, for me, marks Sk8 as a Queer Show beyond the subtextual queer romances: a punk/alternative aesthetic, Found Family, Shadow as a drag persona, and The Hands.

1.) The Punk Aesthetic

All three of the above screenshots are taken from Ep 1, and every single one of them depicts background characters. They’re nameless and ultimately unimportant characters, yet each of them designed so distinctly and so unique from one another, one could mistake each of them for the main character(s) of another story.

Of what little I know about Punk subculture, I do know this: that the ethos of Punk is heavily built around a celebration of individuality and non-conformity. Sk8 seems to have incorporated this ethos into the very fabric its worldbuilding, and the aesthetics and culture upon which it takes inspiration appeals specifically to a queer audience.

I don’t really need to explain why Punk has such deep ties with the queer community. For decades, queer people have found community and acceptance within punk spaces, and punk ideology is something that I think is just ingrained in the queer consciousness as both lived experience and a survival tactic.

Therefore, a show that adopts punk aesthetics is, by association, already paying homage to Queer culture, intentional or not.

Queer fans notice this- like recognizes like.

2.) Found Family

This also needs little explanation.

Too often, queer individuals cannot rely on their “born into” families for support and acceptance. Too often, we are abused, neglected, and abandoned by those who we were taught would “always be there for us.”

And so, a universal experience for queer people has been redefining the meaning of Family, having to build our families from scratch, finding brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers in people with whom we have no blood relation, and forming communities tied together by shared lived experience rather than shared genetics.

And this idea of Found Family is also built into Sk8′s narrative.

Like, for example, the way that Reki promises MIYA that he and Langa will “never disappear from [his] sight,” filling the void that MIYA felt after his friends abandoned him.

And in the way that JOE becomes a paternal figure for Reki, teaching him ways to improve in skateboarding, and ensuring that Reki doesn’t self isolate when he’s feeling insecure.

And in the whole Ep 6 business with Hiromi acting as babysitter to the Gang.

Hell, even ADAM (derogatory) is associated with this trope. Abused as a child, he finds solace in an underground skateboarding community and culture he helped create- his own found family (or some powertrippy version of it anyway).

Again, queer fans see themselves depicted in the show, but this time in the way that the show gives importance to Found Family relationships between its characters.

3.) Shadow and Drag

This is one that’s more of an association that I personally made. But I was intrigued by the way that Hiromi adopts his SHADOW persona. He wears SHADOW like a mask, and adopts a personality seemingly so opposite to his day-to-day behavior.

Further, the theatricality and general “gender fuckery” of his SHADOW persona, to me, just seemed so similar to a the characteristics of a drag persona (I don’t know a whole lot about drag but enough that I’m drawing superficial similarities).

There’s also this aspect of a “double life” that he, and actually all the other adult characters of the show, have to adopt, which is a way of living that I’m sure a lot of queer viewers see themselves reflected in.

4.) The Hands

Ohhhh the Hands.

One of the things I noticed very early on is the way the show constantly draws our attention to Reki’s hands, which I thought was a little strange for an anime about skating. After all, skating doesn’t really involve the hands, or at least the show doesn’t really draw attention to hands within the context of skating.

I count 3 times so far between Eps 1-9 in which hands are the focus of the frame.

First, when Reki teaches Langa how to fist pump after Langa lands his first ollie, second, when Reki and Langa make their Promise, and finally, when Langa saves Reki from falling off his board.

And you know what they say, twice is a coincidence but thrice is a motif (no one else actually says this I think I’m the only one who says this lol).

I’m not really certain why hands seem to be such a shared fixation among queer people (at least among those I interact with). All I know is that gay people are just fucking obsessed with them.

I have a Theory as to why, and at this point I’d love for other people to chime in and “compare notes” if you will, but I think it basically has to do with repression. And in the same way that queer people have had to redefine the meaning of family, we’ve also had to redefine intimacy.

Being overtly physically affectionate with someone of the same sex, even if they’re your significant other, or often specifically BECAUSE they’re your significant other, can still be dangerous, even now despite the “progression” of society. Queer people know this, this vigilant surveillance of our environment and ourselves, always asking ourselves, “Am I safe enough to be myself?”

Already, Western culture is pretty touch-averse. That is, it’s considered taboo to touch someone unless they’re a family member or a romantic partner. And to touch a person of the same sex in any way that could be misconstrued as romantic (which is most things tbh) is a big no no.

There’s just A Lot to unpack there.

But basically I think that queer people, by necessity, have had to learn to romanticize mundane or unconventional ways of being physically intimate so that we can continue to be romantic with one another without “being caught” so to speak.

Kissing and hugging is too obvious. But a handshake that lingers for just a second too long is much more likely to go unnoticed, braiding someone’s hair can easily be explained away as just lending a helping hand, touching palms to “compare hand sizes” is just good fun.

But for queer people, these brief and seemingly insignificant touches hold greater meaning, because it’s all we are allowed, and all we allow ourselves, to exchange with others.

God, I’ve gone off and rambled again. What’s my point? Basically that the way the show draws attention to Reki’s hands, and specifically how they’re so often framed with Langa’s hands, is one of the major reasons why I clocked Sk8 as a Queer. It’s just something that resonated with me and my own experience of queerness, and I know that I’m not the only one who noticed either.

~

So in conclusion, uhhhh yeah Sk8 the Infinity is just a super gay show, and it’s not even because of the homo-romantic subtext (that at this point is really just Text).

Because what’s important to understand is that Queerness isn’t just about same-sex romance.

Queer Love isn’t just shared between wives/girlfriends, husbands/boyfriends, and all their in-betweens. Queer Love can be two best friends who come out together, queer siblings who rely and support one another, a gay teacher who helps guide one of their questioning students, a queer community pitching in to help a struggling member.

And that all ties with another important thing to consider, that what we refer to as the “queer experience” or “queer culture” isn’t universal. In fact, it wrongly lumps together the unique experiences and struggles of queer BIPOC all under one umbrella that’s primary White and middle class.

So I think what drives a lot of my frustration about labeling a show like Sk8 as Queerbait is this very issue of considering queerness and queer representation within such narrow standards, and mandating that a show must pass a certain threshold of explicit queerness to be considered good representation.

I get that someone might only feel represented by an indisputable canonization of a same-sex couple. That’s fine. But labeling Sk8 as Queerbait for that reason alone ignores the vast array of other queer experiences.

The aspects of Sk8 that resonate most deeply with my own experiences of queerness is in the way that Reki and Langa share intimacy through skating (intricate rituals heyo). For me, them officially getting together ultimately doesn’t matter- I’ll consider Sk8 a Queer show regardless.

Similarly, @mulberrymelancholy​ finds ace/arospec representation in that very absence of an on-screen kiss. A bisexual man might find representation in Reki, not because he enters a canon relationship, but in the depiction of Reki’s coming of age, growing up and navigating adolescent relationships. A non-binary person might feel represented through CHERRY’s androgyny.

That’s the thing, I don’t know how this show will resonate with other members of the queer community, and it’d be wrong to make a judgement on Sk8′s queer representation based on my experiences alone.

That being said, Straight people definitely don’t get to judge Sk8 as Queerbait. Y’all can watch and enjoy the show, we WANT you to enjoy these kinds of shows, and we want you to share these shows and contribute to the normalization and celebration of these kinds of narratives.

But understand that you don’t have a right to tell us whether or not Sk8 has good or bad queer representation.

And even members of the queer community are on thin ice. Your experience of queerness is not universal. Listen to the other members of your community, and respect that what you might find lacking in this show may be the exact representation that someone else needs.

[vergess]

@autismserenity​ said: Your tags are the most American thing I’ve ever read, we are truly so screwed here   

May I interest you in a more complete, and more excruciating, explanation of what I spent the last 18 months doing?

It is, I need to emphasize, fucking nasty. Don’t feel obligated, especiallly if you’ve already had A Day(tm).

There’s a lot of disease, a lot of worker abuse including sexual and racial abuse, a fine portion of letting people die for not being white enough for real medical care, all leading to homelessness.

For NDA reasons, because my former employer was just as vile as any tech company has ever been, I cannot be super specific about who I worked for. However, I can say that we handled the records and patient contact for all COVID testing for several states, as well as 2 of the 5 largest metros in the US, and several dozen smaller ones ranging from the approximate population of San Francisco, down to little towns, as well as the testing for several public school systems and at least two government agencies that I am not at liberty to disclose.

I tell you this for a sense of scale. When I say shit like, “my boss was more than happy to let thousands or hundreds of thousands die” I am not exagerrating for effect. We handled hundreds of thousands of tests a week.

Again, I need to emphasize, government agencies. Ones you would know if I named them. Ones everyone in the country knows.

And we were in charge of getting their test results from the already over swamped labs back to the patients, who often were not allowed to quarantine while awaiting results.

The fastest we got our turnaround time to on any consistent basis was about 30 hours. Often it ballooned well into weeks.

There were a number of factors for this, but the big one was always understaffing.

The staff we did have were treated like trash. One of the big selling points of this company is how “trans friendly” it is to work there. That is a lie. Every trans employee on payroll had their dead name displayed to all other staff, and until I personally changed the system setup on my arrival, patient facing trans people’s dead names were displayed to patients.

Remember that thing about “hundreds of thousands of tests a week”?

I was able to change the way patient-facing names were displayed. I was not allowed or able to alter the way internal systems displayed trans people’s names. But I was assured that it’s fine, because once you get a legal name change, you’ll be given new system accounts with your new name!

Your old accounts with your dead name would still be displayed and associated with the new ones though.

This is the “trans friendly” working environment. We were allowed to be out of the closet, as long as we were willing to put up with that. And any attempts to get it altered were the result of those nasty little transgender ingrates not being thankful enough.

Meaning that by asking to use our own fucking names we were already in the disciplinary shitter.

Another big selling point is the ~racial diversity~. The CEO was a man of colour, and so were like four other people on staff!! Wow!!!!!!!

This, too, was laughable.

Once numbers started coming in about the care gap for COVID between English and Spanish speakers, and our Southwestern US service area began to have a separate and brutal backlog just of Spanish speaking patients, my employer encouraged me to interview potential hires who speak spanish.

Fair enough! We all wanted to do our part to help close the already massive mortality gap.

So, I found candidates, did interviews, hired them, trained them, etc. But I don’t speak Spanish. As a result, I appointed 2 assistant managers who do speak Spanish to assist me in managing, you know, like the job name.

So when my super contacted them directly, completely skipping me on the chain of command, and told them to stop all of our Spanish speakers from translating helpful simple messages to send to patients, and instead start translating medical and legal documents, they very reasonably assumed I was in the know and went ahead with it.

TO BE CLEAR, that could have ended my life, theirs, basically everyone involved. Everyone in the company would have been completely fucked. At that point, my subordinates, the people for whom I am wholly responsible, were doing everything from practicing medicine without licenses, to encouraging spanish speaking patients to enter contracts that no one on the fucking executive tier could even read.

The moment I found that out, I and the A.M.s immediately started trying to get actual medical translation services to do our documents. We collected them in a neat folder. We queried translation services. We got quotes. We contacted my super and the CEO, about this over and over again for months. In the late autumn, we received approval for one of the translation services.

The CEO decided at the last minute that having people with no medical or legal training draft medical and legal forms was fine and good actually, and refused to sign the contract or send the documents for translation.

The excuse I received was that the COVID emergency HIPAA relaxations would protect us.

That’s not how that works.

Throughout all of this, Spanish speaking employees were told to either keep doing medical and legal translation work, or lose their jobs.

Oh, did I mention everyone was working between 30 and 80 hours a week, and all of us were marked as “contractors” so the employer could tax evade? Don’t worry, we filed complaints with the labour bureau.

So the entire department was let go, and “rehired” as temps through a temp agency, which because it was a temp agency could keep them marked as contractors regardless of the facts.

This change was presented to all of us, myself included, as the company getting a new accountant to handle payroll.

So if you’re keeping score, we’ve covered racism, queerphobia, medical negligence, fraud, and a frankly uncountable number of deaths.

Let’s talk about the sheer negligence towards employees ourselves. If you’ve worked in near-death medical care before, or any number of emergency services really, you know that the standard benefit suite includes either a dedicated therapist for your staff, or access to peer support groups with other emergency and medical servants through your employer’s benefits program.

Do you know what our mental health benefits were for this company?

The CEO got on a fucking zoom call with us all one (1) time, and said that if we were feeling suicidal or traumatized by the work, to talk to him about it, and he would be our therapist.

Do you know how many people per fucking day we had to contact only to be told they had already died because our understaffing delays killed them? He doesn’t. He never listened when we told him.

But let me put the cherry on the “Oh baby, you can talk to me, oooh” sundae.

Anyone who “looked” or “sounded” female, regardless of actual or assigned gender, was subject to constant flirtations and slimy, overly personal compliments about our appearances. Fortunately, at 3 levels removed from the CEO (Executives > Department heads > Managers > Employees), most of the people under my management had relatively little contact with him.

I was not nearly so lucky.

The CEO of this company has a watersports (urination) fetish. I know this, because he told me so and attempted to get me to join him in it. I have no idea how many other people in the company he did this to. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do, risk losing my job to find out? I have a fucking family to support, people.

Not that it mattered.

Eventually, all of these abuses became too much for my subordinates. Productivity fell off a cliff. Delays were getting worse and worse. In a medical emergency like this, delays=deaths.

So, like a fucking idiot, when the department heads reached out to me to ask what they could do to improve productivity, I shot down their frankly insulting suggestion of raffling a $20 amazon gift card to patient facing employees, and instead suggested a very simple, “enroll us with a peer support group, every single person in this department has PTSD from working in this pandemic.”

They were confused by my assertion of PTSD. I was asked to compile a document of complaints, concerns, and weaknesses in our patient facing services.

I and the A.M.s did so. It was roughly 40 pages long, with each page given a known problem, the reasons why it was a problem, and some potential solutions that might inspire further solutions or be able to be implemented. We submitted it. There was no response.

A week passed.

I had been working 80 hour weeks for most of a year. I hadn’t even been able to take weekends. I took my first sick day, in a company with “unlimited vacation days.”

I received a call at 3PM.

I had been fired for “differences in communitcation.” If you’ve ever seen that “Problem Women of Color in the workplace” chart? Yeah.

So had most of my department, including every transgender member of the department, and several of our extremely limited in supply Spanish speakers, who were presumed to be “on my side.”

Some of them, I barely even knew beyond the formalities of the job, and they were punished anyway.

I lost my insurance, and as a result I lost access to my medications.

But the real problem? I lost my house. And not due to lack of payment.

I lost my house, because when I got the job we waited 6 months for stability’s sake, and then readied to move out of the area. I got a mortgage on the basis of my employer’s written guarantee to the bank that I would continue to be employed for the next year at a minimum.

With the mortgage approval in hand, we entered a sales contract on our existing home.

We got and accepted an offer just days before I was fired. To keep our house meant paying a 25,000 dollar broken contract fine. We didn’t have that. We had a 10% down payment for a modest fucking place in a cheaper area, which is less than half that.

But without a job, my mortgage approval was also voided, meaning we couldn’t buy a house either.

All of a sudden, we were homeless during the plague, because my employer wrote and signed a letter to a bank guaranteeing my future employ, and then changed his mind when too many people died due to his own negligence.

Oh yeah, one last thing: the job paid less than Pandemic unemployment Assistance.

...After that, well, it’s homelessness until just last month. I... if you’ve never been homeless it’s.

It blurs. Everything is happening constantly, except for all the ways in which you are endlessly, mind breakingly bored. Bored, overloaded, and always uncomfortable.

Obviously my health would have declined regardless. Malnutrition, stress, everything.

But I was also unmedicated.

It was hell. I was in hell. I don’t know if I can recover from it, to be honest.

I bounced back from being homeless as a child. Children are as resilient as they are stupid, and the monstrosity of homelessness was little more than a vaguely remembered loathing and a panicky fear that it would ever happen again.

A child who is dying is worthy of sympathy, even if it is meaningless coos from passers by. If they have family, they may be able to rely on them too.

An adult with the indignity to die homeless and crippled, according to the average passer by, is worthy only of disgust and perhaps even punishment for being such a worthless waste.

My reward for nearly killing myself in a desperate bid to help stem the tide of COVID was the destruction of not only my life, not only my entire family’s lives, but the lives of every single family of every single employee who worked with me.

And you know what’s worse?

Each one of us still did more to limit the lethal impact of COVID than the entire united states government.

It breaks something in you, going through that.

It makes you realize that hope is a fool’s game.

But, I have ever been a fool, and so, I continue to play.