#you spend the worst and most morally fulfilling times of your life with another person

[lighthouseshepard]

re: that post a ways back i made. i want a drabble about john in a human body and arthur just being. really unabashedly weird with each other. like theyve been through every Horror imaginable you cannot tell me these two arent strange enough on their own and have picked up weird bizarre vaguely freakish tendencies down the road. but i also want some of the more mundane little weird things of being human. like arthur wakes in the middle of the night goes downstairs and john is there in the dark eyes glowing gold eating handfulls of shredded cheese out of the bag in front of the refrigerator with the door open, hunched over like some shadow creature. and Arthur doesn't even react in the slightest, just watches the two yellow circles blink at him and takes the offered cheese. or someone spills a glass of water and arthur just takes his sock off, cleans it up, and puts the sock back on. and john is left staring at him like. hello? we have? cloths with which to clean?

[mrsjadecurtiss]

What do you think of Robert? What are your opinions on him, do you think that if the war never happened that he'd still go down this self destructive path?

I think Robert was fundamentally not made to be a king - He has the charisma and the looks and is an able warrior, but his negative character traits are indulged and enhanced by his position and led him down an almost unavoidable path.

Robert is someone who above all wants to enjoy and live an easy life:

"You need to come south," Robert told him. "You need a taste of summer before it flees. [...] Flowers everywhere, the markets bursting with food, the summerwines so cheap and so good that you can get drunk just breathing the air. Everyone is fat and drunk and rich." He laughed and slapped his own ample stomach a thump. "And the girls, Ned!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. "I swear, women lose all modesty in the heat.[...]" The king laughed happily. Robert Baratheon had always been a man of huge appetites, a man who knew how to take his pleasures. - Eddard I, aGoT

"Robert wanted smiles and cheers, always, so he went where he found them, to his friends and his whores. Robert wanted to be loved." - Sansa IV, aCoK

He has just enough of a moral understanding to at least know when he is doing wrong and to even feel bad about it at times, but not enough to actually change anything about himself.

The rage was gone from him now; in his eyes Ned saw something sad and scared. "I should not have hit [Cersei]. That was not … that was not kingly." He stared down at his hands, as if he did not quite know what they were. - Eddard X, aGoT

Robert desires to have an easy life, he wants to be loved, he wants to have fun, but he does not want to deal with the hard and unpleasant things. In times of crisis, he wants to take the easy way out, and he prefers to avoid uncomfortable truths.

Lord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. "[...] When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert's relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar's children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children." - Tyrion VI, aSoS

"Well, now I know Jaime's dark sin, and the matter can be forgotten. I am heartily sick of secrets and squabbles and matters of state, Ned." - Eddard II, aGoT

"Most likely the king did not know," Littlefinger said. "It would not be the first time. Our good Robert is practiced at closing his eyes to things he would rather not see." - Eddard IV, aGoT

He feels most comfortable when he is surrounded by people who love him and know how to handle him/want the best for him, and steer him onto the right path in a way where he can still feel good about himself.

"These are difficult times. I need good men about me. Men like Jon Arryn. He served as Lord of the Eyrie, as Warden of the East, as the Hand of the King. He will not be easy to replace." - Eddard I, aGoT

In an environment that works against him, or goes against his wishes even if it is for the better, it creates a destructive energy in him. He cannot stand dissent to his wishes because it robs him of a pleasure he desires, and creates unwanted conflict. He also cannot handle constructive criticism because it makes him confront unpleasant truths - he always wants the easiest path with the least tension. If he is presented with a situation that strains his limits as there is no amiable solution to a difficult/disturbing problem, his reaction is a toxic one; turning to rage and violence even towards his own child.

Not for the first time, he wondered what he was doing here and why he had come. He was no Jon Arryn, to curb the wildness of his king and teach him wisdom. Robert would do what he pleased, as he always had, and nothing Ned could say or do would change that. - Eddard II, aGoT

He may act against what he knows is right, because it is the easiest route; like when he has the wolf Lady killed to please Cersei:

“A costly pelt,” Robert grumbled. “I want no part of this, woman. You can damn well buy your furs with Lannister gold.” [...] "We have a wolf," Cersei Lannister said. Her voice was very quiet, but her green eyes shone with triumph. It took them all a moment to comprehend her words, but when they did, the king shrugged irritably. "As you will. Have Ser Ilyn see to it." - “Robert, you cannot mean this,” Ned protested. The king was in no mood for more argument. “Enough, Ned, I will hear no more." - Eddard III, aGoT

"I am sorry for your girl, Ned. Truly. About the wolf, I mean. My son was lying, I'd stake my soul on it." - Eddard VII, aGoT

And when Ned reprimands him about Daenerys he will not hear dissent, even though he knows deep down that it is wrong:

He gave the king a long cool look. “Would [the man who spared Barristan] were here today.” Robert had shame enough to blush. “It was not the same,” he complained. “Ser Barristan was a knight of the Kingsguard.” - “Whereas Daenerys is a fourteen-year-old girl.”

[...] “Not another word. Have you forgotten who is king here?” - “No, Your Grace,” Ned replied. “Have you?” - “Enough!” the king bellowed. “I am sick of talk. I’ll be done with this, or be damned."

[...] “I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to  it.” For a moment Robert did not seem to understand what Ned was saying. Defiance was not a dish he tasted often. Slowly his face changed as comprehension came. [...] “You are the King’s Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I’ll find me a Hand who will.” - “I wish him every success.” Ned [...] laid [his badge of office] on the table in front of the king, saddened by the memory of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved. “I thought you a better man than this, Robert. I thought we had made a nobler king.” Robert’s face was purple. “Out,” he croaked, choking on his rage. “[...] Go, run back to Winterfell. And make certain I never look on your face again, or I swear, I’ll have your head on a spike!” - Eddard VIII, aGoT

“Gods have mercy,” he muttered, swallowing his agony. “The girl. Daenerys. Only a child, you were right . . . that’s why, the girl . . . the gods sent the boar . . . sent to punish me . . .” - Eddard XIII, aGoT

Robert is a man who always wants it easy, he wants his demands to always be fulfilled, to be loved and have fun without dealing with the bad things; but an important theme that is repeated over and over in asoiaf is that you can only act good if you are willing to face the bad that may come with it, and if you cannot live with the consequences, your action might not be justified.*

Bran thought about it. "Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?" - "That is the only time a man can be brave." - Bran I, aGoT

"Sacrifice . . . is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice." - Davos VI, aSoS

"The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die." - Bran I, aGoT

Ned stood, gently disengaging himself from Sansa's grasp. All the weariness of the past four days had returned to him. "Do it yourself then, Robert," he said in a voice cold and sharp as steel. "At least have the courage to do it yourself." - Robert looked at Ned with flat, dead eyes and left without a word, his footsteps heavy as lead. Silence filled the hall. - Eddard III, aGoT

This is why putting him on the throne was poison - all the power in the world, and noone who would dare go against his wishes. It indulges all of Robert's worst traits, and buries anything he had inside him that was salvageable.

Ser Barristan Selmy spoke up. "Your Grace," he said, "it is not seemly that the king should ride into the melee. It would not be a fair contest. Who would dare strike you?" - "Ser Barristan is right. There's not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who would dare risk your displeasure by hurting you." - Eddard VII, aGoT

I am surrounded by flatterers and fools, the king had insisted. Ned looked down the council table and wondered which were the flatterers and which the fools. He thought he knew already. - Eddard IV, aGoT

And Robert knows it - he knows being a king isn't for him, that he doesn't enjoy the actual work that goes into governing, that he doesn't have the personality for such politics or to deal with the people involved, and that he would much rather spend his time enjoying life and doing what he loves...

"Look at what kinging has done to me. Gods, too fat for my armor, how did it ever come to this? [...] I swear to you, I was never so alive as when I was winning this throne, or so dead as now that I’ve won it." - Eddard VII, aGoT

"I swear to you, sitting a throne is a thousand times harder than winning one. Laws are a tedious business and counting coppers is worse. And the people … there is no end of them. I sit on that damnable iron chair and listen to them complain until my mind is numb and my ass is raw. They all want something, money or land or justice. The lies they tell … and my lords and ladies are no better. I am surrounded by flatterers and fools. It can drive a man to madness, Ned. Half of them don't dare tell me the truth, and the other half can't find it. There are nights I wish we had lost at the Trident. Ah, no, not truly, but …" - Eddard I, aGoT

Robert groaned with good-humored impatience. "If I wanted to honor you, I'd let you retire. I am planning to make you run the kingdom and fight the wars while I eat and drink and wench myself into an early grave." - Eddard I, aGoT

"Let me tell you a secret, Ned. More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the crown. Take ship for the Free Cities with my horse and my hammer, spend my time warring and whoring, that's what I was made for. The sellsword king, how the singers would love me." - Eddard VII, aGoT

And yet he doesn't do anything about it and keeps staying at the position he hates - he does not want to deal with the uncomfortable consequences that would come with upsetting the status quo, or making changes to his own personality and going through growth, or confronting ugly truths about himself in a productive way, etc etc.

He does make a talk of changes at times during aGoT, and seems to have a sense of responsibility about his Job, but as it is his desire for changes came too late, and what responsibility he felt mostly served to paralyze him in place.

"The sellsword king, how the singers would love me. You know what stops me? The thought of Joffrey on the throne, with Cersei standing behind him whispering in his ear. My son. How could I have made a son like that, Ned?" - Eddard VII, aGoT

"I'm still young, and now that you're here with me, things will be different. We'll make this a reign to sing of, and damn the Lannisters to seven hells." - Eddard VII, aGoT

In a way Joffrey is to Robert what Ramsay is to Roose: an exploration of the inherent flaw in their way of life, demonstrated in the most extreme case. In Joffrey's case, it shows what happens to give someone unlimited power with noone daring to oppose them.

Do you think that if the war never happened that he'd still go down this self destructive path?

It's a little unclear which war you mean, so I will briefly touch on several points:

There could have been ideal circumstances where he might have worked out as a king, if he was surrounded by people who know the perfect way to deal with him and make him work past his flaws (intuitively doing the work of a modern therapist), but the average life is not ideal and grrm shows the realistic fate of a man like Robert.

I think by the time Ned arrived it was sadly too late to change - maybe if the Lannisters didn't exist, or this or that event hadn't happened, but Grrm shows that most of what lead to Robert's downfall was in the end caused by himself. Cersei kills him because she came to despise the man he was, and for good reason as he abused her during all her marriage - and while he has some scenes of feeling bad or even apologizing for it, he never made any attempts to actually change the terrible way he was treating her.

If Robert's Rebellion never happened, he would have probably made an able enough Lord of Storm's End; delegating his "boring" administrative duties to his advisors and maester, enjoying the privileges of highborn life, and having just enough responsibility to feel like the alpha male of his society yet not enough to do as lasting damage as he did for the throne. He would not have been the best Lord, but sadly there are many worse in Westeros, since the entire dynastic ruling system is inherently flawed. If he would have been a better person depends on who he is surrounded with, if circumstances would have motivated him to change, or if perhaps his position of power and outward influences would still just have indulged him into the man he was in aGoT. Ultimately, there are a lot of butterfly effects leading to different results that i’m sure have been explored in many fics.

"Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature." - Eddard IX, aGoT

This was the boy he had grown up with, he thought; this was the Robert Baratheon he'd known and loved. If he could prove that the Lannisters were behind the attack on Bran, prove that they had murdered Jon Arryn, this man would listen. Then Cersei would fall, and the Kingslayer with her, and if Lord Tywin dared to rouse the west, Robert would smash him as he had smashed Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident. He could see it all so clearly. - Eddard VII, aGoT    

What do you think of Robert?

Since i am someone who frequently enjoys morally grey and villainous characters, despite his many negative traits i have a fondness of Robert; I think he is an interesting character and very human in his flaws, and there is a lot of melancholy to his story that makes me somber about him even if it obviously does not excuse his bad actions. I also think he has a great character design that's fun to draw and some fun boisterous scenes, and some of his positive qualities remind me of people i know.

*Stannis is an interesting character as Robert’s brother, as he is the opposite to him in this regard, as well as in many aspects of their personality and even their outward presentation (like how Stannis crops his beard short to contrast Robert’s wild one)

[wisteria-lodge]

lion primary + burnt rapid-fire bird secondary (snake model)

Hi! I’m really enjoying your page and was wondering if you might help me to find my sorting? I can’t settle on Chill Lion Primary or Snake Primary.

I seem to be able to leave friendships really easy

Not *Badger,* maybe? Because Snake can be friends with people who aren’t Inner Circle. Depends on what level of loyalty we’re talking about here… need more data.

if the choice is a stranger in need vs. my closest friend, it would be a stranger I would feel worst for abandoning, but I probably only deeply care about my family members, and friends only to some extent and helping someone in need would make me feel as a better person than just not turning my back on a friend.

… THAT is not a Snake primary answer, I can tell you that for sure.

When I was a kid and my mom would have a fight with my stepfather, I would always side with my mom, even if I knew she was not really right. I did not want to hurt her, but now when I am older, I know how important it is to stand by what you see as right, so I try to d talk about seeing things from both sides, even though I will still stand by her side in the end, probably. There is not much I can do for the people I care about, but when I am given an opportunity to protect and fight for them, I will.

There’s something interesting going on here. Because clearly you acted in a super Snake way when you were younger (‘they might be wrong, but I’m still going to defend them’) but… you felt bad about it. And you definitely *feel* bad about it, in retrospect.

Especially with that situation you gave me right there… I would not be at all surprised if you were expected to model Snake, or even forced to model Snake when you were younger.

But I deeply believe ‘the root of all evil’ is only caring about your own. I think that is selfish and cold.

Yeah. I think you may have an unhealthy Snake influence in your life. The conflict between Loyalists and Idealists is very near the heart of this system, and they do go back and forth, with Loyalists seeing Idealists as ruthless and cruel, Idealists seeing Loyalists as… yeah, selfish and cold. The way I see it, both are beautiful and expansive and know things the other needs to learn - and both can also be warped, and unhealthy, and scary.

I think I would be a better person if I had something to believe in, if I would fight for something bigger than me. I have not found it. Or maybe I did, but there is not much I can do about it. I can not incorporate it into my life apart from personal small actions, and I want to do more

This is very much a Lion primary dream. And I just want to say that the Lion dream does not have to be huge and all-encompassing in order to be meaningful, and real, and fulfilling.

Or maybe I just want an easy and lazy life, just doing what I like and just a bit more and that’s it. Sometimes it is like that too, I believe.

And you know what, that’s kind of a Lion primary mood too :)

I wouldn’t say standing by people you most care about is morally right, but it is a damn strong force.

Still Lion. Like OF COURSE if you can stand by both your morals and your people, that’s IDEAL.

As much as I can remember, I never had anything big and idealistic to believe in, apart from not hurting others, and a lot of what I believe in now is based on that.

You *want* something big and idealistic to believe in, to be happy and fulfilled. That’s still Lion, even if no Cause has clicked with you yet. (I suspect you’re a little burned, which can’t be helping.)

So I was always really harsh to people who I thought were selfish.

Again with this negative Snake influence.

I thought I was a Lion Secondary, but more and more I keep noticing how much I am using honesty as a tool.

Hmmm. Could be a Snake secondary tactic, but Birds do like their tools….

Sure, being yourself is the easiest thing in the world

… everyone does not feel this way. You’ve got strong Lion in your sorting somewhere.

but it also allows you to be seen as readable and trustworthy in your words. I know how much I can shift words or tone just a bit. Sometimes it feels like I am watching from inside, going “oh, you’re doing this now?”

That’s interesting. The way you’re describing thing - the slight arm’s length, knowing the mask is a mask, but also not planning the mask - is making me think more Snake. Although Actor Bird *is* possible.

I am very emotional, and I find it hard to distinguish my morality and moral choices from just general things I do and want.

… so you’re a Lion primary.

So the only other primary on my list could be Lion, which I find hard to understand. How can things turn from some tug of the heart to a full-fleshed ideal? My belief – trying not to hurt people and all that is related to it, in my mind, still comes from a grounded reality, from the fact that it hurts me to see someone being hurt. It’s not because it was idealistically formed somewhere. I think I probably don’t understand this correctly.

Lion primaries aren’t jedi. Their ideals don’t get magically beamed into their heads from some outside force. Lions reason just the same as Birds, they just use a different part of their psyche to do it. The fact that your morality (at its core, at its base) comes from the way things make you feel… that is what makes you a Lion. Birds don’t process things that way.

Maybe this sounds a bit like a Badger Primary, but there is no place for a group in my morality, in my life. Neighbors? Pffft, just let us live in peace and leave us alone. Groups are unpleasant usually. Maybe if you could choose people you like and click with them. Of course, acceptance is important, but it will never be the basis of anything. Have I never had an important group in my life? Maybe, but that would either mean I have been burned for a long time or I am just not a Badger Primary.

You’re not a Badger primary. And while it’s not a universal thing, I would say that Lion primaries tend to be the *most* comfortable with being loners, or spending extending periods of time as loners.

Of course, I use my brain and prioritize in the moment and use logic. I am not a sweet and nice badger girl, although I will be nice and smile and act my part, and sometimes you do hurt someone by telling the truth or putting yourself first, because I also don’t want to hurt myself if I have a different choice.

This is all starting to sound very snake secondary. The practicality, and twisting, and changing in the moment. Although maybe there’s a Badger performance in there?

Even if I can’t feel what others are feeling, I have something informing me about what they might be feeling. Do I care about not hurting my neighbor? It’s more like I care about not hurting myself by getting into a bad situation with them, being shouted at or having other kinds of problems with them, but that’s still some kind of motivation

Move around the problem, be like water.

Honesty is an idealistic value, and I like it, but I think it probably just makes my life easier, easier to read people and be read.

Snake secondary.

I think I also strongly believe in persons’ right to be and express who they are, that’s why I grew up hating gender stereotypes and not really playing into social rituals. I just want to be seen and liked for who I am.

Lion primary.

My Secondary? It probably burned to ashes. Thinking about how I am doing stuff, improv vs build, it just gives me a headache. Improvisation gives me stress, it gives me hell, but it’s the easiest way.

I mean, all the stuff you’ve been talking about - reading people, putting on the right face, changing direction - absolutely counts as improvisational.

Planning, preparing? Lovely, usually -  access denied. I just go head first just because I don’t know any other way and have no interest or energy to search for it. I am easily bored, so even if I wanted to work, prepare, research, I would lose interest so fast that there would be no use in even trying.

I don’t think you’re a Badger secondary - but it’s just hard to tell because you are so down on your secondary in general. You’re telling me that prepping in theory is lovely but you don’t know how to do it? (not that you don’t LIKE it. That you CAN’T do it.)

I always thought I would finally find something I wanted to work on, something I would enjoy putting time and energy into, but that does not seem to come true.

That’s some more of the angst of your charred/unfulfilled Lion primary coming though.

I am disappointed in myself. You know, it would be very nice if I could be witty and smart and improvise in the moment, but I’m not,

So you *like* Snake secondaries at least.

so I just gave up some time ago and now usually go straight with my head first. At least I’m getting the experience I would never get any other way.

Your secondary is burnt, for sure. But just reading between the lines here… I think you’re much smarter and more capable than you give yourself credit for.

I think if I were to be a Lion Secondary and constantly do this, I wouldn’t feel the heaviness over my secondary.

That’s another big sign of a burnt secondary. Doing things isn’t fun, it’s heavy, it’s a chore, it’s a slog.

Okay, let’s talk about recipes and cooking. I will follow the recipe, at least until I get what is going on, which flavor does what, why is this and not that. Then I can ditch it. I can add whatever I want later on. If I know which parts are the most important, I might not even need the recipe.

… okay, so this suddenly sounds a LOT like a Rapid-Fire Bird

Imagine a world where they give you a recipe for an apple pie and say make a pie. You follow it, your pie looks fine. Then, when they taste it, they tell you, Oh, you didn’t know, you needed to use sour apples. You didn’t figure that out on your own? No, dagnabit, I was concentrating on making an apple pie for the first time in my life. I had no experience of this thing. I didn’t know what it would be. Then they tell you, Oh, maybe you needed to use coconut sugar or something else, or maybe should have figured out yourself that it’s too sweet or that you hate cinnamon, or maybe your oven is not working properly, so you need to deal with that. Yeah, that’s how I feel about life and its problems and people.

Oh that’s interesting. Because what *this* bit is sounding like… is the angst of a Built secondary dealing with a lot of Improvisational secondaries. I’m think you’re a Bird… with a lot of Snakes and Lions in your life.

Every chance I get, I try to tell people these little small things that you somehow supposedly had to figure out on your own. You need to crack the system first to know how you can break it the best way to achieve your goals. Life, problems, people are systems I will never be able to crack. There is nothing to grab onto, so that’s why freefalling headfirst is the best and the easiest option.

OH. Burnt bird secondary. Snake model.

Btw, I am reading other submissions while writing this, to not go completely out of the path and get any ideas that would be valuable. I do like to have a net behind me to catch me if I fall, ha.

And another little detail that sounds very Birdy.

So I’m reading you as a Lion primary with a Rapid-fire Bird secondary. Your primary is burned a little, and your secondary is burned a lot. And a big part of the reason for that is that you’ve got people around you expecting you to use a Snake model all the time, and you *do* have one, you do. But it feels heavy to you right now. You don’t hate it, but you’d rather use Rapid-Fire or maybe Actor Bird. And that might be feeding into the general Anti-Snake sentiment I’m seeing here.

[belleoumoi]

je l'aime à mort, je l'ai ma mort

she heaved at every hack, the tune of march of the hoodlums muffling the sound of each chop. eyes blinked incessantly at the splatter of blood landing on her face, until there were more drops on it than the birthmarks she had and her stare became devoid of the horror it was filled with just moments ago. once the deed was done she's down on the floor, legs sprawled in exhaustion. it was a huge body she had to drag along. not to mention her expertise were guns and firearms, only today things took a turn for the worse. she had to improvise. a task it was indeed.

there was nothing gratifying about it. just another one to rack up her body count. but one thing she did enjoy from the job was the souvenirs. she took the liberty to secure one, thinking it was well within her rights to. like a little trophy for once again fulfilling a commission; a silly consolation, if anything. after all, to desensitize your conscience you had to ease into the bed of guilt. she did it constantly even beyond all these years. she was still uncomfortable by this trade. she will never not be. and what is it if not a very, very human thing to lie awake rolling every mistake you’ve ever made around inside you like marbles? and to make those mistakes in the first place? humans are mostly just mistakes and wishes and bones.

tonight, those mistakes and wishes and bones felt like crumbling. she had become more fragile as the years have gone and it all reflected in her work at present. it was all the resistance. being told that that resistance was directly proportional to love. being told that on the other side of that massive aversion was a tremendous love waiting for her; that the opposite of love wasn't hate but rather indifference. and if that isn't the most harmful piece of 'wisdom' she had ever heard, there's no telling what is.

she knew better and yet she found herself stuck. in the same ways, the same bad habits. in the same bar that she melted in and moved around as the smoke, forming curls in the gloom illuminated only by the age-speckled bar lights. the whiskey was pretty darn good, she would reason, and it was sacrilegious to be anywhere else than here: her place of salvation, intoxicated by spirits and the moments all the same.

it's a new face that snapped her out, a handsy one at that. it wasn't easy to catch her attention. this time it was something like coming back home from a full and burdened day in her shadowed life, shoulders hung and face low, ruffling through belongings looking for the house key. once it's found, it falls on the ground and becomes the last straw for the day. except in this scenario it was the pawn piece, the hunting trophy from today's kill, being dangled in front of her face. she's startled and frozen for a second, vigilant of the next move. and in the second that followed, she pretended not to be bothered as much as she was in actuality.

there was something about this 'intruder' that held her consciousness more than just the soul-elevator kind of laughter; like some enigmatic spell that scattered as if they were sequential words upon a page. she felt lightheaded wondering how this arrangement came to be, and how this unfamiliar face was led by the universe to say the right things and ask the right questions despite the initial attempt at pickpocketing during one of the worst hours of her life, no less. she was still alert, however—her alcohol tolerance saving her from fully freefalling further down the mind games. it was a few more drinks before she finally dismissed those meddling thoughts and claimed back her souvenir.

next thing you know she's walking up the steps of her house, but not alone. chaeyeon was no stranger to one-nighters but this person managed to break beyond that road gig. it kept happening until it was unbearable when it didn't.

sumin.

chaeyeon carved this name in the deepest parts of her mind. and in the coming months, she found herself full of regard for song sumin. the kind that she would talk to the flowers with.

her life was filled with bad habits and she had fallen into another one. it was only less daunting because it was an old one. it was a lull that felt endless and it manifested once again in everything that she did. even her social life. she would spend days cooped up in her condo, finding ways to work at home and excusing herself from gatherings, save for the really important ones. she would spend her nights hoping that her paramour was coming to rush back to her arms, even dying for the aroma of the night underneath the covers of her bed. for a sense of mutual rest, or for the right kind of play.

in a way it was self-preservation. she needed to know, for her own sake, if she felt the same, if this was something she wanted, if sumin will keep her, or if she'll want chaeyeon to keep her. she needed to know where she stood. it was addiction. it was unhealthy and she knew it. and it only lasted long enough before she could stop it from moving faster.

sumin had started to say no to her, a lot more than chaeyeon would have minded. her memory and attention to detail was a flaw. she wanted to know everything but she was being kept in the dark. this would send her spiraling into doubt and anxiety, wondering if it was something she had done. but she was good at convincing herself otherwise, and she was good at proving that too.

the signs were all laid out. chaeyeon felt it coming and it made her feel the most desperate she had ever been in her life. in a drunken stupor one night, sumin had joked about wanting to get rid of her brother. chaeyeon, being stern and resolute as she was, sensed that it was more than just a simple jest. she recalled this specifically and figured what exactly she needed to do to catch sumin's attention back, this time: a grand gesture to rig the feelings that she was sure were fading right under her nose.

memories harked back to the night of when they had first met. it was all so poetic. it was the same old book, only with notes on the pages marked and written down this time. song jaemin sat unconscious and tied to a chair from sumin's dining room. she had to make sure he was asleep, because torture was not the purpose. chaeyeon worked to give him a swift end, not so much a cry. and just like that, dispatched; never aware of his own end. but still, her methods felt akin to a crazed serial killer more than the assassin that she was. it was against her morals, but there were times to follow tradition, and times for change. she couldn't help but feel this was a tale at its start.

[illegalastrology111]

KARMASTARS: APRIL 25TH - MAY 1ST

ARIES

MONEY: If joint financial partnerships can’t be restructured you have to think about moving onto “greener pastures”. Knowing or having some idea of what you want to do will help you plan, what next?

SEX: Be careful of jealousy in love, whether from you or your partner. Feelings of discontent need to be openly discusses.

POWER: Your vision of prosperity may need an overhaul and/or reboot, because the path you’re on at this time probably won’t bear fruit. However, you have to know and realize you have the power to move past current experiences, and with Pluto retrograde until October 6th, use this cycle to face old karma, fears and secret enemies and become the Phoenix arising out of the ashes.

TAURUS

MONEY: Watch your purse and spending this week because there is a danger of over-spending and wasting money on items you really don’t need. At the same time, there’ll be those who try to manipulate you to spend and move towards directions that aren’t in your best interests.

SEX: In order for love to prosper a deeper understanding between you and your partner is needed . Love them for who they are, not who you want them to be.

POWER: Trying to move forward isn’t always easy, but in order for your efforts to work you must pay attention to the signs and guidance from the universe pointing you in the right direction.

GEMINI

MONEY: To increase prosperity a change of location is needed on some level. You can’t fear stepping out of your comfort zone into new territory. This week’s Full Moon in Scorpio and Pluto its ruler is retrograde in Capricorn. As a result you’ll be confronted with internal doubts, people holding you back, in addition to seeing what’s broken in the area of work and things that need to change so that money can increase.

SEX: Avoid seeing only the worst aspects of your partner “feeding” in to unnecessary negativity. Realize that everyone isn’t perfect and the best you can do is to help your partner overcome their shortcomings.

POWER: While Pluto is retrograde you’re likely to experience power struggles with people who don’t support you openly/secretly. Use this cycle positively to renew your mind, research new ideas and getting rid of old ways of thinking, by deepening your outlook.

CANCER

MONEY: With creative plans and objectives don’t be surprised that some don’t like what you’re doing, or don’t like you as a person. This maybe upsetting, but it’’s also a sign to not allow them to dictate your financial prosperity or success. With the Full Moon in Scorpio this week, “endings” really are the focus, which you need to make happen so new doors can open.

SEX: A week to be most sensitive to your partner’s needs and avoid being too emotionally insecure or possessive.

POWER: Try not to forget lessons from the past connected to being a martyr. However you may still find yourself in this position or repeating these experiences from the past, so you can understand and integrate the issues confronting you once and for all. A time to rid yourself darkness affecting your life.

LEO

MONEY: Your foundation of life connected to prosperity is now due for an overhaul. Not only with the Full Moon in Scorpio on the 26th, but also Pluto retrograde, April 27th - October 6th. During this time domestic instability and security will come to the forefront and seem out fo your control. Realize, this is happening because there are people and situations you need to remove, in addition to renegotiating agreements.

SEX: A week to at least clarify true feelings to you partner even though there could be problems with certain emotionally unhealthy people in and around your life that need to be dealt with.

POWER: An intense week when you have to be careful of manipulating others with guilt or moral projections as jealousy cones to the surface. Your digestion could be affected as a result, because of dealing with too much stress. A visit to a nutritionist might be necessary.

VIRGO

MONEY: Projects, plans and ideas you have in mind should be kept secret from those who would steal for their own wealth and success. Foresight to be aware of this before it happens will spare you having to go through negative situations that divert you from your goals. The Full Moon in Scorpio on the 26th, marks the end of old ideas and ways of thinking that need to be discarded and replaced by something more empowering.

SEX: Your partner may need help, support or counselling even though you may feel ill -equipped to help in any way. But you might be pleasantly surprised by the outcome, if you at least reach out to offer what you can .

POWER: Pluto retrograde in Capricorn April 27th - October 6th, brings to your attention issues, that are considered overwhelming in nature, requiring you to become a lot stronger.

LIBRA

MONEY: If you’ve been attached to making money a certain way, Pluto retrograde in Capricorn April 27th - October 6th, is here to cause upheaval, confrontations, power struggles and issues of self-worth, preparing you to let go of things that no longer serve a positive money-making purpose.

SEX: I you don’t fully love yourself, it will be hard to love another and with the Full Mon affecting self-love and self-worth, it’s snow time to end this self-depreciating cycle.

POWER: Pluto retrograde highlights home, family and foundation of life, indicating it’s time to look at this area of life in reality, to see what is broken and cannot be fixed, leaving you no choice but to let go. However, your own fears and doubts are in the way of transformation so you can move on.

SCORPIO

MONEY: In order for some type of prosperity/success to manifest you’ll need to change the way you deal with others, so they can perceive and treat you differently. The Full Moon is in your sign on the 26th, indicating overpowering events/circumstances will need your full attention and energy.

SEX: Regardless of events that occur through the week, remember to be kind and gentle towards y9our partner.

POWER: A week to quietly act from behind the scenes regenerating Self. A time to focus on renewal of health and well-being. With Pluto your ruling planet, now in retrograde, look within for many of the answers and problems that are still perplexing.

SAGITTARIUS

MONEY: The ability to overcome circumstances.people in the way of achievement will be at your disposal this week. As a result you’ll be able to transform aspects of home and foundation of life in order to increase prosperity . Being realistic is a key component part to your success. Therefore use discernment in all decisions.

Sex: Keep things simple and uncomplicated in love this seek bye following the Golden Rule.

POWER: With great power, comes great responsibility and you have a chance to implement great change for improvement that helps you and others. Be mindful of Cause and Affect.

CAPRICORN

MONEY: A week of either fulfillment of hopes and wishes and/or of them ending. This depends on which side of Natural Law you’re on, mainly certain friendships and people detrimental to your success. A tine to break free in order to progress in life, goals and finances. An empowering, decisive moment to implement large changes in work, security of life and the way you give and receive knowledge.

SEX: As your life goes through major change, keep love balanced and even ,making sure your partner is is aware of what you’re going through.

POWER: With Pluto retrograde in your sign April 27th - October 6th, confronting deep innermost fears that cause you to become powerless in the world, reveal themselves. The Universe is presenting you with this week’s Full Moon in Scorpio, highlighting an end of an era in your life and the start of new beginnings. These changes won’t happen overnight, but will open the door for you to deal with issues that have been bothering you for some time.

AQUARIUS

MONEY: Let the Universe help and support you this weeks certain cycles end that have affected the success of career, goals and ambitions and undermining influences. As you see things unfolding go with the flow and don’t ry to force outcomes until the time is right, especially with Pluto now retrograde in Capricorn, April 27th - October 6th.

SEX: Maintain compassionate love and understanding towards your partner .Even though you’re faced with major alterations occurring in your life, don’t try to “force” them to go through change as well.

POWER: Deep slow transformations that have been buried deep inside now emerge and affect long overdue changes . This is your time of empowerment, from a cocoon of hiding, to now being exposed for all to see and know. The caterpillar transforming into a butterfly.

PISCES

MONEY: Expansion of horizons has been setback for some time by certain individuals who have blocked your path of learning, growth and good fortune. The stars are aligned providing you with the momentum to get rid of them, as the Full Moon in Scorpio brings the cycle to a close. Vast changes in work, finances, home and friendships are ready take shape and form.

SEX: Consider a retreat with your significant other and/or a relaxing experience you can both enjoy with ease.

POWER: A change of home or in the home environment, fixing , restoring and repairing things, creating a better space for health and prosperity is now the focus. Watch out for secret enemies who wish you to fail in your objectives, but there will be others ready and wiling to help. At some point you’ll need to forgive others but not to forget the experience/lessons learned, so you don’t have to repeat such debilitating negative experiences again. A time for introspection, re-evaluation of Self and future intent.

[dandivinity]

Madokannon: Religious Symbolism in Madoka Magica

If there’s one word I’d use to describe the show, Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica, it would be deceptive. If you’re wondering how a cute Sailor Moon rip-off with even brighter colors and a moe art-style is deceptive, congrats, you fell for the deception. As the series continues, it becomes clear that the show is not a cut-and-dry monster of the week where good always triumphs. Rather it is a pastel-colored Faustian bargain where even the best intentions can lead to dire consequences. In the end it is only through the titular characters unshakeable hope and faith and no small amount of divine intervention that the series reaches it’s bitter sweet conclusion. This is obvious upon a first viewing. What is less obvious is the nature that this divine intervention takes. While the show occasionally makes direct connections to Christianity, It seems to me that the theology implemented is Buddhist through and through complete with Four noble truths, samsara, vile rebirth, and an allegory of the bodhisattva Kannon. 

Let’s start with the basis of the show, the wishes. This is one of Madoka’s most prominent aspects and the largest concern from the beginning of the series before the villain’s true underpinnings are revealed. For those of you not familiar, 1). Why are you reading this? And 2). The set-up of the Madoka,  like most magical girl anime, involves a cute animal mascot offering the girls magical powers in order to fight monsters. What makes this set up unique however is that the oh so cute cat-bunny-thing known as Kyubey also offers the girls one wish as an incentive so that they would accept it’s “contract”. Now the use of the word “contract” is an obvious red flag meant to alert us to the Faustian nature of the deal. And yes, the agreement comes with several hidden clauses that Kyubey conveniently leaves out such as the fact that becoming a magical girl involves having your soul removed from your body and placed into a gem because it’s “easier to protect”. But Kyubey’s not exactly stealing it like a Christian devil would. More importantly than the hidden clauses though, is the wishes themselves.

Now stories of the devil tempting people with promises of wealth or power are quite common in Western literature, as are tales of djinn or monkey paws providing wishes that always go wrong in Near Eastern lit. But what’s extraordinary about Madoka is that for the most part the wishes the girls grant are simple in nature and rather generous. Our main focus point, and the only wish we see pursued from beginning to end in chronological order is that of Sayaka Miki. Sayaka is established to be crushing on a boy who was a former violin prodigy before a car accident left him paralyzed with no hope of playing ever again. Sayaka wishes for him to be healed, and just like that, it’s done. 

The boy does not relapse, nor does he lead into another accident. He simply starts a miraculous yet slow path to recovery, until the series finale where he is shown without crutches and playing beautifully for a wide audience. The problem? Well as pointed out before Sayaka even makes the wish, she’s wasn’t actually doing it for him: she was on an unconscious level hoping that he’d be forever grateful to her. Does she hold this over him? No. Does he reject her? No. She simply doesn’t ask. Sayaka is too busy with her new responsibilities and ashamed of what she has become to ask. 

And frankly the importance of Kyosuke in Sayaka’s fall is largely overstated by the fanbase. Yes, he’s a large factor but even more so than wanting to heal him or his gratitude, Sayaka wants to be a hero. This is heightened when their magical mentor dies within the first three episodes. Sayaka now feels like it’s her responsibility to protect her city as no one else will. Unfortunately, she’s simply not as strong as her former mentor or the new morally unsound magical girls that seeks to dispose of her (both Kyoko and Homura). This is really what leads to Sayaka’s downward spiral as she comments, “The world doesn’t need a magical girl who can’t even kill a witch”. Sayaka wants to be a hero, and she wants to get the guy and she gets neither. Her desires, both fulfilled and unfulfilled, all lead to her suffering. This is the First Noble Truth of Buddhism. 

I realize this isn’t the most convincing argument on its own but let’s zoom out a bit here. What is desire if not earthly attachments? Attachment and inability to let go of attachment is a concept found in nearly all the wishes in the show. It doesn’t matter if it’s Sayaka’s wishing for her friend’s health, Mami literally trying to cling to life, or Kyoko (in the most directly religious moment in the show) wishing that people would come to her father’s sermons so that her family could have enough to eat. All of these desires are moral in some way and yet they are still desires. More importantly, they all involve a longing for what once was, and are attempts to return things to how they were rather than moving on. This inability to let go is characterized not just in the wishes but in the reason they’re implemented in the first place. 

When Kyubey finally explains why they knowingly cause suffering to countless adolescent girls throughout time, they explain it’s to harvest enough renewable energy from the emotions of magical girls to stave off the entropy of the universe. The whole process is rather convoluted and -let’s face it- an excuse to deconstruct magical girl tropes, but that doesn’t change the fact that preventing the heat death of the universe is still Kyubey’s number one goal. That combined with their inability to truly understand the suffering they’re causing has caused some of the community to question their villain status or at least say they’re a villain with a just cause. And while postponing the heat death of the universe may be noble in the long run, it is a literal fight against the impermanence of the universe. A fight that we know from Buddhism is doomed to only lead to personal trauma in the face of inevitability of a changing world. But it is this fight against impermanence that kyubey embodies so well, and one that is baked into the wish-based magical girl system they run. 

Ok, enough beating around the bush. It’s time to talk about Homura. After spending most of the show as a mysterious red-herring villain that knows far too much, Homura finally gets an episode dedicated to her near the end of the show where it’s revealed she’s a time traveller who restarted the timeline over and over again in order to make her wish come true; to be able to save Madoka. Specifically  Homura has to replay the same month over and over again until she can succeed in saving Madoka’s life and cannot escape until this goal is reached.  This obsession leads to a very literal samsara, by repeating the timeline again and again Homura is actively choosing to trap herself in endless cycles of suffering, death, and rebirth all because of her attachment to the mortal world. Through this process we can see Homura fall apart becoming more and more monstrous in her single-minded focus to save Madoka at the expense of everything else. By the time she arrives at our main timeline that the rest of the show takes place in, Homura is comparable to a hungry ghost. She’s directly accused of walking through the world as if dead, unable to feel anything except for the desire that damned her in the first place, her obsession with Madoka. When even this too seems lost, she nearly becomes a witch. 

In Mahayana Buddhism, rebirth on earth is not the worst thing that can happen after one’s death. If one leads a sufficiently desperate life they can be reborn as an animal, hungry ghost, or in hell. This is where Madoka’s witches come from. Perhaps the most tragic twist in Madoka Magica is that if a magical girl falls into despair (usually due to her wish’s inability to make her happy), her soul gem will transform into a grief seed which then becomes one of the monsters they fight. These nightmare collage monsters have new names separate from their old identities and live in pocket dimensions where they lure people in. These pocket dimensions often in someway manifests the desires of their old lives being filled with sweets, TVs, or (in Sayaka’s case) violinists. Interestingly, when Sayaka first dies and is reborn as the witch Octavia in a train station, her labyrinth is also full of railroad tracks. She relocates to a concert hall and the labyrinth follows suit, but train wheels remain despite having no apparent bearing on her previous life. This could be a reference to Buddhist beliefs about your final thoughts and which direction you look when you die having bearing on which realm you’ll be reborn into. 

Homura’s obsession in contrasted by Madoka’s ability to let go. Madoka’s final wish and subsequent ascension has often been compared to Jesus’s sacrifice on the cross, and rightfully so. Madoka’s wish to become a cosmic force that can take on all the despair of magical girls before they become witches at the cost of her own mortal life has many strong parallels to Jesus suffering on the cross to redeem humanity. However that idea only works if Jesus is suffering. Madoka is stated to be taking the grief of every magical girl who ever became a witch onto herself and we even see a far future version of her becoming a witch large enough to destroy the world. But before it does it is shot down by another version of a truly ascended Madoka in a white dress. This version states paradoxically that since her wish applies to all magical girls that would become witches, that includes herself. The fluidity of time and direct denial of the necessity of suffering or sacrifice are at odds with Orthodox Chriastianity, or at least its perception of Jesus. Rather I argue that the way Madoka saves all the magical girls, her subsequent erasure from existence, and even such mundane symbols such as the white dress all link her closer to the Bodhisattva, Kannon. 

Let’s take a closer look at the scene where we see Madoka actually ascends and manifests to relieve the potential witches of their grief. We see Madoka split herself into thousands shafts of light, all of which appear above different suffering magical girls in different places and time periods. And above all of them Madoka appears, she touches their corrupted soul gems which are then purified before shattering, allowing the magical girls to die in peace. A rather sad ending, but one that’s better than rebirth as a witch, which we already identified as equivalent to the hell realm. So while it is unclear where the magical girls are going to go after they die (or even if they go anywhere at all as we just saw the gems holding their souls shatter, possibly destroying them), we can know that Madoka is saving them from a worse rebirth. This directly parallels miracle tales that surround the Bodhisattva Kannon, especially in her Chinese incarnation as the white-robed Guanyin. 

Kannon is the primary example of Bodhisattva or one who has put off Budhahood to aid those still on earth. Kannon in particular swears to never ascend until all living things have been freed of samsara. She’s often depicted as having 11 heads and a thousand arms to better reach all those suffering in the world at once, like how Madoka splits herself into a myriad of forms. Many of these tales have devotees of Guanyin spared from tragic fates such as beheadings or shipwrecks. However a few, adapt these stories to instead refer to a more metaphorical salvation, especially in the pure land tradition popular in Japan which then says that anyone who calls out to Kannon on the verge of their death will be still die and be reborn to the pure land rather than wherever else they were supposed to reincarnate. Madoka’s god form even highly resembles the Chinese incarnation, Guanyin. Wikipedia states, “Guanyin is generally portrayed as a young woman wearing a flowing white robe, and usually also necklaces symbolic of Indian or Chinese royalty. In her left hand is a jar containing pure water, and the right holds a willow branch.” While we never see Madoka with any water; the flowing white dress, red gems along her collar bone, and branch-like bow (though on that seems to be more of a sakura branch) all bring to mind Guanyin.

Finally Madoka’s ascension ends with her body dissolving into glimmers of light as she explains how no one will remember her, but she’ll still be there. This dissolution of the her spiritual body is a visual symbol of ego-death. Madoka recreates a word where she does not exist, and had never existed, yet still manifests as a concept and virtuous force that leads others to salvation rather than as a sentient entity. This is the Nirvana. Madoka hadn’t just ascended to godhood, she had surpassed it and achieved nothingness, as her buddha nature radiates throughout the world, ultimately changing it into something better. This is the paradox of Buddhism and the goal of any buddhist practitioner, to achieve an inner peace so strong you become a part of the universe like madoka had. And the new world she created was better for it. 

That is at least until the show decided to  make a movie sequel and trick madoka into descending. At that point she stops acting as a Buddha and instead as Pistis Sophia in line with the obscure belief system of 2nd century Gnostics. But that will be a conversation for another time. 

[funkymbtifiction]

Could you comment on Clark typing as ISFP?

Hello! I’ve seen Clark typed as ISFP with such points: “Fi- good inner control of his own emotions, yet you still get the sense he feels deeply, he just doesn’t show the slightest feelings readily like Fe. And no, Fi isn’t ‘selfish’ and Fe ‘for other people’.

They simply refer to where you get your values. Fe - your values are based on global values, basically ‘what most people consider to be right’. Coupled with Si, a past orientated function, he would be looking into the past to see how things were done to base his values on, and looking at the majority rather than what his personal values are.

Fi - personal values. He’d have a deep moral code, which are based on personal ideas instead of global. They likely won’t be shaken from these values, even if other people thought they were wrong, because the individual knows they are right. Due to this, Fi can at times appear ‘different’ to the norms because their values aren’t based on what everyone else thinks but what they believe, whereas with Fe, it is their worst nightmare to stand out and try their best to fit in, however they can.

Se- he does love exercise and sport and want to do it, especially when his powers were taken away, so it has nothing to do with him being ‘super’. Se users are in the present in opposed to in the past, like Si. They want to take action.

What do you think?

Decent assessment of Fi,  but it’s not a convincing argument for Clark since there’s no evidence. It’s mostly an abstract discussion about SFP vs. SFJ.

I have gone back and forth on whether Clark Kent of Smallville is ISFP or EFJ, and I will outline why I went with Fe-dom.

He is without a doubt a dominant ‘judging’ personality – everything is filtered through moral judgments, everyone is instantly assessed based on their moral behaviors and values. He clearly has Ni (since his suppositions are often spot on and he also carries a certain amount of idealism) and Se (he often rushes headlong into stopping things from happening and uses his environment to do so, though for him it’s mostly reduced to “break a thing” / smash the bush).

Clark is clearly starved for attention and praise. He wants to be a star and dreams about having others affirm and adore him, which is more of a Fe thing in the sense that he would be emboldened and uplifted by constant positive affirmation rather than made uncomfortable by it. He is also a skilled person in terms of knowing, often, what exactly the right thing to say is, to comfort and console his friends – meaning he can meet them on an emotional level (rather than being separate) and empathize without needing to have experienced a loss to know what it’s like. Whenever his mother asks him what is wrong, Clark confesses easily that he finds it hard to not be honest with his friends, that he wishes he could be with Lana but stays away from her out of respect for another man’s “claim” on her (and her own feelings), and that he finds it hard to stand back and let other people take all the praise for things that he did. (Image type for sure, but that’s an aside.)

Now, as a 2, Clark is all about seeing the best in people – but he also seems to take a while to come around to realizing that Lex isn’t ‘fulfilling’ his greater potential – to me, this seems more like a FeNi or an NF blind spot than the more pragmatic SF approach. I realize that Harry Potter is a different core (9w8 instead of 2, tho I think they are both 269/962) but he tends to have very firm, pragmatic assessments about people and very little idealism, whereas Clark seems to see what Lex COULD be and is trying to mold him toward that, by encouraging him to resist his baser instincts, not be like his father, etc. This is very NF stuff, and particularly ENF – because Fi-doms do not interfere with other people or attempt to change them. (That, by the way, is an indicator for all you NFPs out there who aren’t sure if you are ENFP or INFP. I repeat: Fi-dom is all about me and my autonomy, so they have a built-in sense of “non-interference” that ENF’s lack.)

Clark also scolds his father for his negative assumptions about Lex, because they don’t match the “potential” (idealism) he takes as a matter of course; he even blamed his father, at one point, for pushing Lex toward the darkness, through his rejection of his attempts to be kind. These to me are naive idealistic ENF traits more than grounded ISFP traits. So we’re left with someone with a hero complex, who feels morally responsible to the entire world to take care of it and rushes in to help people indiscriminately (Clark’s Fe vs Harry’s more selective Fi?), who wishes he could be 100% honest with his girlfriend, who gives people the benefit of the doubt by arguing that they all have their reasons for their behavior (extenuating circumstances making “the man”), who has a skill for connecting to almost anyone, who sees the good in people and actively pushes them (moralizes at them) toward it, and who is not present-based so much as dreamy and contemplative about the future.

I fail to see inferior Te, also, in that Clark is never particularly abrasive, blunt, or authoritarian under stress – instead, in a moment of pure horror after an awful discovery, he asks Chloe what would CAUSE (SPOILER) to murder his father, as if he needs a logical explanation to reconcile this incomprehensible evil that makes sense to him. He cannot just conclude that this person is evil and dismiss it, he has to understand WHY (Ti).

This is 100% NOT Fi-dom. To a Fi-dom, bad is bad. Evil is evil. Snape is mean, Snape insults Hermione, Snape is suspicious, ergo Snape is evil -- and it takes a monumental shake-up for Harry to reach any other conclusion about Snape (a fundamental reassessment of Snape being the ‘hero’ and not the ‘villain’).

I think Clark does this:

Without Ni/Se functional development, the EFJ’s self worth is dependent on their social roles, rather than who they are. Unless they get in touch with themselves, they aren’t really sharing themselves with anyone and won’t feel truly appreciated, no matter how much they do for others. The greater their reliance on Fe, the less in touch with their own feelings these types tend to be.

https://funkymbti.wordpress.com/mbti/the-ifp-types/

More than this:

Without Se/Ne development, IFPs judge every situation after their own experience. They can become absorbed in defying “conformity” to social conventions or standards, or can get locked into an eternal present where nothing matters except their own experiences and opinions. Fi is an individual viewpoint; something the IFP brings to reality from within themselves. They need to develop enough functionally to invest in life as it actually is. Otherwise, they spend too much time defending themselves from situations unfriendly to their inner realm, and their beliefs against perceived external threats, rather than taking this as an opportunity to expand their understanding of different people as having unique experiences, and learning not all situations that do not appeal to them are objectively “bad.”

https://funkymbti.wordpress.com/mbti/the-ifp-types/

[secondhand-trash]

Good People

@shinsoubowl​ Week Day 4 (Prompt: Hero+Villain)

A/N: Out of all seven days, this is probably the hardest to write for me but I did succeed in slipping a Fleabag reference in there again so it’s all good. I’m just hoping and praying that this turns out ok.

(Also, Tumblr has been acting strange and not letting me add more than 5 tags recently so the exposure is greatly limited and I'm petty about things like that because I do work hard on everything I put out so reblogs are greatly appreciated qwq)

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x villain!reader

Description: You had lost your hope that there were genuinely good people in the world a long time ago. So no, just because this hero was nice and didn’t want to fight you could not convince you anything.

Word count: 3125

Playlist:

Me//The 1975

Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked//Cage The Elephant

Something Has to Change//The Japanese House

-

If you got to start all over again, you would have never gone down this path in the first place.

It started off as minor shoplifting in convenient stores when you were a kid. You knew that it was wrong, but the wall of candy was too tempting and there was no way you could ask you parents for money when they were struggling to put food on the table each day. Your father got into heavy debt after his business partner took all of the company’s assets and disappeared from the surface of earth one day. The salary he earned was barely enough to keep the family alive, spending a large portion of it to pay off the loans.

You never got caught, not even once, and it only prompted you to keep going. You slowly moved onto pickpocketing and stealing cash from registers when the shop keeper wasn’t looking. It made you even more money but it also started forming this empty pit of guilt at the back of your head and yet you never stopped.

By then, you father had entered eternal slumber and something about the sigh of relieve from your mother when you handed her the cash pushed you to keep going back. There were times when she looked like she wanted to say something before you sneaked out of the house ‘for work’ but she never said anything, silently pulling back the hand that attempted to reach for her child.

Then there came the time when snooping around for inattentive by passers could no longer fulfill that urge in you.

Hiding in a dark alley, you gathered your breath as the security guards of the shop you just broke into ran past the spot you were hiding at. Checking that there was no one around, you pulled out that heavy gold bracelet from the pocket of your belt. You did not need the price tag on the display to see that you could make good money out of it. Inspecting it carefully under the flickering street light, you sighed in pity that the intricate carving on the gold would soon be gone when you handed it to the dealer.

Sometimes, you were afraid that you had started to enjoy what you were doing instead of treating it as nothing but a line of work like you convinced yourself to be.

“Pretty valuable stuff you got there but I’m almost certain that it’s not yours. Mind if I put it back to where it belong?”

You immediately went into high alert and shoved the bracelet back into your pocket when you heard the voice from above your head. Snapping up, you saw a man with a black mask looking down on you from the lamp post.

Great, a pro-hero.

A long piece of fabric extended towards you and you jumped to deck from the attack. You had heard of this particular pro from other people of your kind. He was new to the scene, making quite a name for himself with his skillful tactics and overpowering quirk.

“You’re not going to answer me? How rude.” the man clicked his tongue as he leaped from where he stood and made another attempt at trapping you with his scarf. You pursed your lips tight, avoiding even the smallest of responses towards the man. You remembered what they told you about him, one word and he had you under control, and you had been struggling on this path you went down for far too long to be captured now.

A villain, that’s what they called you, to which you only scoffed. Perhaps you were a villain, but if you were a villain, what were the people who turned you to this side of the moral compass? Were they good people? And this hero who was here to give you the punishment the society thought you deserved, was he a good person under that mask and the costume?

People did not overrate his ability in combat. You were having a rough time fending him off while resisting the possibility of a slip of the mouth, but you could tell that he was new to this. He knew what he was doing but none of his punches were lethal. He was holding back.

In a perfect world, he would be respected for having mercy on you, the villain. But the world was not perfect and most of the time, it was far from being good. Hesitating could be a great flaw.

Spotting one of the hero’s weakness in defense, you took the chance land a punch right at his stomach, forcing him to bend down no matter how fast he could react under physical reflectiveness. By the time he recovered, you had already gone out of his sight, leaving him alone in the dim alley.

Sliding in through the unlocked window, you frowned at how the light of the living room was still on. Living room, you silently laughed in bitterness at the thought, like you weren’t living in a tiny flat that was split into rooms by thin curtains hanging on the ceiling. “Mom? Why haven’t you gone to sleep? I told you that there’s no need to wait for me.”

The woman on the couch was already drifting into sleep when you called for her. You knew that she hadn’t been feeling well recently and you had tried to tell her to get more rest but it seemed that you got your stubbornness from her.

“I can’t sleep without knowing that you got home safely,” she smiled and you could see the wrinkles at the end of her eyes. When did those start to appear? For as long as you could remember, there wasn’t a time when there weren’t any lines on her forehead, an effect of furrowing her eyebrows together too often. “How was work?”

You felt bad for lying to her but you could not say it out loud. You could not say it to her face that her child was a villain who stole things for a living, even when you were almost certain that she already knew. After all, mothers know best.

“It went alright,” you tried to force a nonchalant smile even when your stomach was twisting together in guilt and lifted the curtain to where you slept, “I’ll just go to bed now. You should get some rest too, you’re looking really pale.”

You had long accepted the fact that you were no perfect human being and most of the time, you were certain that you could not even touch the line of being good, but lying to your mother would never stop making you feel like the worst person alive.

You kept running into the same pro-hero who you met in the alleyway from that night onwards. Where ever you were, he was there waiting already. It was starting to get tiresome and rather creepy, if you would be so bold to say.

For the first few days, a fight would inevitably break out between the two of you and it always ended the same way with you escaping by a hitch. Then he stopped trying to capture you through battling and it was worse, because he started talking to you.

If fighting him was a pain in the ass, than this new method of his was straight up torture.

It started off as him trying to irritate you into responding with jabs or insults but he soon realised that it was not enough to get you to talk as you would just rolled your eyes and threw punches at him. Looking back, you wished it had stayed that way because he somehow managed to make the whole thing even more annoying. He would block your only route of escape and started talking to you like he was just talking to a friend about his day. There were times when you were so baffled by the sheer stupidity of the whole thing that you almost gave in and yelled at him. Needless to say, it took a lot of self-control to bite your tongue when all you wanted to do was get him to shut up.

Still, you would at least tried to hear what he had to say each time before finding a way out. It would be a lie if you say that there wasn’t something stupidly entertaining about the hero rambling on about the random things that happened in his life when he could be fighting you instead. You almost anticipated him to show up each night and just started talking when you never gave him any responses other than exaggerated facial expressions at all.

If he wasn’t here to arrest you, you might actually take a liking towards that man.

You already had one leg hanging off the barricade as you were about to make a jump to the ground from the balcony when the hero showed up tonight. You stopped and turned to look behind you where the hero landed, raising a brow towards him.

“Sorry that I’m a bit later than usual, had to chase down this other guy who was robbing a bank.” he laughed when your eyebrow only arched at his statement, “Don’t look so shocked, you’re not the only one I’m trying to capture.”

You nodded in amusement. You weren’t sure when this whole process felt like less of a competition to see who break first and more like two people genuinely hanging out. “Although it really doesn’t feel like I’m even trying to capture you anymore.”

You grinned and tilted your head. You would love to believe that it was the case and he was just here night after night because he wanted to talk to you but it was never wrong to stay alerted. “Can you just say something? It feels like I’m talking to myself here! I promise I won’t use my quirk on you.” the hero pleaded but you doubted its sincerity due to the smirk on his face and you shook your head, the smile never left your face. “Come on! I know you want to!”

He wasn’t wrong, you did want to but your survival instinct override this childish desire. You were a villain and he was a pro-hero, you two weren’t meant to be friends and simply wouldn’t happen no matter how much you wanted to talk to him like normal people do.

Smirking, you turned your back to him and was about to leap down when his voice caught you by surprise.

“Fuck you, then.”

You snapped back, entertained beyond measure by his response. You had to purse your lips to prevent the laughter that was threatening to escape and gave him a look as in to ask him, “Really?”

When you lie on your mattress with your eyes closed, it was the amused glimmer in the hero’s purple eyes that kept showing up in your head.

You fell asleep with a smile on your face that night.

You shouldn’t get attached, it’s dangerous, but you had become way too fond of the strange hero who talked to you every night at this point to back out. The two of you were standing on the balcony where you would for sure past by each night. Leaning against the fence, you put your chin on your hand with one elbow supporting it on the fence as the hero standing next to you rambled on.

You wondered if you two would have become friends if the circumstances were different. It was a stupid move that could wash all your hard word down the drain but at that point, you didn’t care. This had been bugging you since you met this guy and despite better judgment, you weren’t really sure how long you could keep this in.

“Why are you still here talking to me?” the hero’s eyes widened as he heard your voice for the first time. “You’re a pro-hero, I’m a villain. You’re supposed to fight me, not hang out with me.”

He paused for a while, “I don’t think you’re like other villains.”

You snorted in bafflement and didn’t say another word. He sighed, seeing that you didn’t trust him enough to actually respond to him. “I’ve been keeping a record of what you did since I met you that day. You never steal from small businesses, only big cooperation or rich people.”

“And that’s how you decided that I’m not like other villains?” you replied, basically taking a leap of faith to see if this person you had been talking to for the past weeks was actually as decent as you hoped him to be. A rush of relieve washed through you when you could feel that your body was still under your own control.

“You’re not doing it just to cause chaos or hurt people like a lot of other villains and, I don’t know, I guess there are chances that you might be a good person.” he said with an earnest that left you unable to react. A good person. How long had it been since someone called you that? “I saw the way you fight, put it to good use and you might actually save the world-”

“Why do I want to save the world when the world never saved me?” you turned to look at him in the eyes and felt yourself stiffen at the look in his eyes. He would not get it, you bitterly thought to yourself. “I did not choose to be like this but when no one came to save you, you might just be isolated for long enough to become a villain.”

This was a waste of time, ‘villains’ weren’t supposed to confide in heroes and it was naive of you to even think that he would understand. Climbing over the fence, you stared at the hero before you escaped into the darkness.

“The world isn’t good. Trust me, I’m a villain.”

You were sure that it was the universe playing a joke on you to prove just how bad it could be when you woke up the next morning to find your mother collapsed on the ground. The sight was something out of your worst nightmare and you could not breath properly until you held her wrist to sense that she was still alive. She was burning with a fever so high in temperature that you were starting to fear that the day you were truly on your own would come sooner than you detested.

You tried everything you know, every medicine you could get your hands on but there was no use. She was still unable to even move when the night arrived and you were worried sick. It was the first time that you cursed yourself for having a lifestyle that was everything but legal. You could not take her to the doctors because hospitals keep record on everything and it would not take them a lot of time to find out what exactly you were up to. If this was about you, then you would just take the risk and turn to somewhere shady but it was your mother, and you would rather trade your soul than to put her in harm.

You knew what you should do the moment you stepped out of your house that night.

Shinsou was almost unsure if you would show up. You seemed to be quite pissed off last night and he wasn’t sure if you would still want to see him after that. It started off as an attempt to lure you into activating his quirk by accident but he had come to quite enjoy those late night conversations. He immediately perked up when you climbed onto the balcony.

You walked straight up to the hero and grabbed the scarf circled around his neck. His body tensed up at your sudden action but his mouth hang agape in shock when he saw you took it and wrapped it around your own wrist.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” you took a deep, shaky breath and said, “you’re gonna hand me over to the police and tell them that you captured me.”

“What? Wait a sec-”

“I’ll tell you where I hide everything I’ve ever stolen,” you sounded so calm it almost frightened him, “there’s a woman there, a really sick one. I don’t know how but please god get her somewhere better than that-”

“No.”

You stopped when you heard him. “What?” you yelled in disbelieve. “I am making your job easier for you, what do you mean ‘no’?”

“You’re not making any sense! Is something going on?”

“Yes!” you threw your hands in the air. You could feel tears forming in the corner of your eyes as you screamed in frustration, “My mother is dying because I’m a fucking villain and I can’t get her any help!”

“And your way out is to hand yourself in?”

“Well I don’t know what else I can do and if there’s someone who have to profit off of my misery I want it to be you because you talked to me and made me laugh and even if you might not turn out to be a good as I think you might be but at least you are a decent person and a decent person is fucking hard to find.” you said it all in one breath and gasped for air as you gathered your breath. “So please, I beg of you, just help me out and do as I say.”

Shinsou wasn’t sure what he should do but you looked like you were about to break down and that hurt him way more than it should. Although his movements were a bit stiff, he sighed in relieve when you didn’t protest as he wrapped his arms around you. “Told you, you are a good person.”

You sniffled and mumbled against his shoulder, “You have really low standard for ‘good’.”

“Let me help you,” he pulled away and wiped a thumb one your cheek to dry the tear that ran down your face, “I won’t hand you over but I’ll help you if you let me. That’s what heroes are supposed to do, right? We help people.”

You let out a broken laugh. You weren’t sure why you believed him but that look in his eyes was all too convincing. And for the first time in a really long while, you truly believed that perhaps there were good people in this not-so-good world after all.

No one had ever saved you, not until Shinsou Hitoshi talked his way into your life.

[charliejrogers]

First Cow (2020)

It’s impossible for me to write about First Cow without thinking that this movie is some sort of sublime cross-over between Joaquin Phoenix’s worst nightmare and joyous fantasy. Running at odds with his oddly emotional anti-milk Oscars acceptance speech back in February 2020, First Cow is a love letter to the power of milk in the realm of baking. The sweet, sweet udder juice provides the very backbone of a community’s happiness and two men’s livelihoods. But, where Phoenix’s nightmare turns to fantasy, the universe gets justice. No milk theft shall ever go unpunished! Move over, Herman’s Hermits; it’s not just “No Milk Today,” it’s no milk ever!

My kidding aside, I was pleasantly surprised by First Cow, though truthfully I’m not sure exactly what I expected besides knowing it was a movie set in nineteenth-century America. Acknowledging my own biases and knowing ahead of time that the director was a woman, I was surprised by how decidedly male this film was. There are really only three female characters of note throughout the whole film, and none of them have prominent speaking roles… in fact the only one who does speak English merely serves as a translator for men.

I wonder in what way the director, Kelly Reichardt, sees herself as fulfilling that role in making this film. That is, in choosing to deliberately make a movie about the nineteenth-century fur trappers in the harsh, male-dominated world of Oregon Territories, Reichardt wanted to highlight an aspect of the dominant “alpha” male society that is most certainly experienced by males but is rarely commented on, largely because it is considered female. I’m talking, of course, about love. I doubt there are viewers of this film who would disagree with my assessment that the two male protagonists shared a love for one another, but I’m sure many would categorize that love as merely representative of “deep friendship” or “platonic” (in the layman’s sense) at the most. While I’m not going to sit here and necessarily argue that the two characters shared an erotic love and I do not think that is the intent, I really do believe characterizing their relationship as merely “two great friends” would be received by the pair as a great insult. The two share the type of relationship seen among men that is rarely seen in the media save for war movies where “brotherhood” is a dominant theme. Outside of war, it’s a relationship that is largely reminiscent of the beautiful love seen between Midnight Cowboy’s Joe Buck and “Ratso” Rizzo. It’s the sort of sacrificial love that dominates the thoughts of Christian scholars. Still, it can be easily misinterpreted as erotic love. What I think Reichardt does beautifully is develop the love between the two carefully so you see it organically develop such that by the time we get to the final scene, we are unsurprised by one of the two character’s sacrificial acts of love.

The key scene, as I mentioned, comes at the end, but it’s noteworthy to mention that the pair’s ultimate fate is made plainly clear in the first few minutes of the movie. The movie starts (almost paradoxically) with an epilogue of sorts. We’re in the modern day, and a woman is exploring the forests of Oregon when her dog stumbles upon some bones that (with a little more digging) reveals two skeletons lying next to one another, like two lovers lying in bed. The best reason I can think of as to why Reichardt includes this epilogue before the rest of the film is because as soon as we the audience realize that two males are the most dominant couple in the film, we more readily anticipate and are more open to seeing love develop before our eyes.

So accordingly, after this brief pre-movie epilogue, the film jumps backwards in time to the nineteenth-century where we meet Otis “Cookie” Figowitz (John Magaro), the cook for a trapping company who is runs a little out-of-step with the rest of his crew. It is embodied in a visual motif that is repeated often throughout the film. We will have a shot of either of the two main characters, Cookie or his eventual companion King Lu (Orion Lee), doing something quiet in the foreground while characters perform some other more exciting activity in the background which in any other movie would take center stage due to the inherent spectacle. But it’s clear that Cookie is a more sensitive soul, he enjoys his time in the woods collecting mushrooms, and he does not have any interest in violence whatsoever. But that does not mean he isn’t without courage.

Early in the film, he comes across King Lu, a Chinese immigrant who is on the run after killing someone to avenge the killing of one of his good friends. Notably, when they first meet, King Lu is completely alone, hungry, and naked. While it isn’t addressed specifically, it is implicit in King’s and Cookie’s first meeting (and during other character’s subsequent interactions with King later in the film) but racially hostile undertones almost threaten to undermine King’s and Cookie’s initial friendship. Yet, like the story of the Good Samaritan, Cookie puts away his initial feelings of racial bias, and goes out of his way to clothe King with a blanket before allowing him to speak any further. Cookie grants King with a great deal of dignity, and goes one step further, offering to smuggle him among the various bags and supplies on his travels, knowing full well that if the rest of his crew find out that Cookie was hiding a “Chinaman murderer,” that he’d be in deep shit.

Cookie and King separate after this initial meeting, but upon reuniting later in the film, they never separate from one another until the very end. In what is the most puzzling choice in the film to me is Cookie’s initial decision to join King for a drink at King’s home. The two reunite in a trapping fort bar after a fight breaks out and the two are the only customers not drawn outside to enjoy the spectacle (the outsider/outcast motif returns). However, just before the start of the fight, one of the primary instigators of that fight requests for Cookie to watch over his infant whom he had brought to the bar. Therefore, when King asks Cookie to join in at his home, he is also asking him to abandon this helpless infant. The image of the baby swaddled in a basket recalls the previous imagery of King swaddled in the bags and supplies within which Cookie was smuggling him. And ultimately Cookie does abandon the baby for King, and in joining King for a drink at his home, never actually leaves. The two begin living together. So I’m not sure of the significance of the baby. Is it that Cookie had the choice between two “new lives,” one a literal new life of someone else and the other, in King, a chance at a new life for himself? Or is it simply just to serve as foreshadowing that in following King, Cookie is opening himself up to a life of indulgence where the concerns of others are less important than his own happiness?

As for the latter question and the plotline that develops around it, it really serves as a bitter critique of American capitalism and the American dream. While we love to tout the “by the bootstraps” myth, this movie serves as a simple morality play about how no matter what, pursuing the American dream means ripping somebody off for your own benefit. In this instance, it means Cookie and King nightly sneaking onto the property of the leader of the trapping fort and stealing milk from the only cow in the area in order to essentially have a monopoly on baked goods and make a pretty penny. Now, we can sit and debate about the morality of “owning” a cow, and whether Cookie and King are even doing anything immoral since it is preposterous to own an animal! Or I’m sure there are those (Joaquin Phoenix) who think Cookie and King are just as immoral for taking ANY milk from a cow as the man who owns the cow in the first place. This is not the time to discuss animal rights. But it is notable what the cow, too, has had to suffer in order allow for Cookie and Lee’s successes. She was initially transported to the trapping fort along with a mate and her calf, but both died en route. She spends her time tied to a tree and by the film’s end locked up within a small cage.

In sum, the love that Cookie so beautifully shared with King at film’s beginning does not seem so equally shared by the pair in regards to their relationship with others. And in their pursuit to become successful capitalists in a system rigged against them, they ultimately hurt some of those around them, most notably titular cow with whom Cookie has almost romantic relationship with, which in some ways makes his treating her as little more than a literal cash cow so egregious, even if he cares deeply for her.

Hence the morality play. I don’t have to spell it out for you what might happen if two people repeatedly rob the same person in the same way again and again and again. But even if we as the audience agree that the cards are stacked against Cookie and King from the start in their attempt to become independent, to achieve the American dream, the film never pretends that they are acting as virtuous agents. In the end, though, they get their redemption even as they receive punishment. King is given a chance to abandon Cookie outright who in an attempt to flee their pursuers has become badly injured. King realizes he can just take his riches and run. But he doesn’t. He decides to lie next to his dearly beloved companion. While he could not have predicted what would be the fatal consequences of this decision, he knows that sticking with Cookie in his current state will only cause him trouble. But that’s where the beautiful sacrificial love that defines this pair comes in. Whereas many will view this film and remember it as a cautionary tale about the American dream, I will forever remember the realistic love of brothers shared between these two wayward men.

***(1/4) (Three and one fourth stars out of four)

[amphtaminedreams]

To All the Characters I’ve Overly Identified with Before: Borderline Personality Disorder and Attachment to Fictional Characters

It’s been a month, and I’m still not over how Game of Thrones ended. I’m still not over the way that a character who, throughout the previous seventy something episodes of the show, was only ever ruthless towards people who were deserving of her wrath (within the context of westerosi justice because let’s not forget everyone’s favourite man of honour Ned Stark decapitated a young man for running for his life in the first episode), suddenly massacred a whole city in the penultimate episode. I’m not over the way that writers who spent the previous seasons showing that they were capable of translating the moral ambiguity of George R.R Martin’s characters from page to screen, got lazy and left us with a character whose actions became impossible to defend right as the show was ending. I’m not over the way that such a beautifully complex character who endured so much hurt and trauma was reduced to nothing more than a “crazy woman” by a couple of male writers in her final moments. I’m not over the fact that Emilia Clarke put her heart and soul into the character and did everything she could to bring Daenerys Targaryen to life for David Benioff and Dan Weiss to both literally and figuratively assassinate her.

I think those feels have been felt by a lot of Game of Thrones fans since the show ended. God knows I’ve watched enough youtube video essays and read enough articles and liked enough tweets reiterating the sentiment. Daenerys Targaryen was, in my opinion, the best character on Game of Thrones. I wasn’t angry because she didn’t end up sitting on the throne (though my boy Drogon made sure nobody else ever would either and I guess I can get behind that), I was angry because all the balance that made her character so great was thrown out the window in order to progress the story of her male counterpart and bring a show that probably could’ve done with another 2 seasons to an end. Dany has always had a dark side, she is the “fire” that the title of the book series refers to, but throughout the show, we’ve never seen her indulge that side to the point of no return. We’ve seen her wrestle with it and use it to exact punishment on those who deserve it when needs be, and that was part of what I liked about her. Not to go all feminist essay on anyone’s ass but we don’t usually get to see women in TV who are celebrated for their powers of intimidation, and I liked how prior to season 8, the narrative never made female characters like Dany or Arya or Brienne out to be monsters for killing people the same way that basically every single man on the show did at one point or another. I liked that sometimes she was a little excessive because it made sense, she did have “dragon” in her, and she still had lines she wouldn’t cross, clear values and principles; she fought for the innocent, for women and for children, and for freedom. On a personal level, I loved her because we watched her go from a lonely, scared and vulnerable girl to a strong, ambitious and self-assured woman and that was a trajectory I wanted to relate to.

And then all of a sudden, without any justification or build up at all, she’s a mass murderer of the same “downtrodden” people she always claimed to fight for. Fuck, I’m thinking. I literally watched that episode through my hands because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. When I say I cried on and off for about 3 days after I watched the final episode, I’m not exaggerating; I only need to see a screen cap now a month later or an interview with Emilia Clarke and I’m off again. It literally felt as if I was mourning the loss of a real person. But this isn’t the first time I’ve had this kind of attachment to a character. Daenerys Targaryen was probably just the last in a long list of women I overly identified with.

I’m not much like her at all really, I’ve burnt myself from taking the film off my microwaved lasagne and not moving my thumb away from the hot air in time (lmao), however, I think I saw parts of myself in her journey and traits that I wanted to have, thus, I latched on. Before Daenerys Targaryen there was Spencer Hastings and before her there was Cassie Ainsworth and then if we’re gonna throw it all the way back, there was Hermione Granger (and some other characters I was more mildly obsessed with along the way, Katniss Everdeen, Bree Van de Kamp and Cosima Niehaus, I’m looking at you). I still love all those characters now but when their respective shows or films were actually current, I was completely obsessed. I spent my 16th birthday at the Harry Potter studios on the outskirts of London with my family, forget birthday parties or meals out with my friends. I wished more than anything that I had 2 best friends that loved me unconditionally and I did my best to emulate that drive and intelligence and work ethic everyone associates with Hermione. I told myself I was just like her even though I lacked the confidence to put my hand up in all but one of my classes and last time I checked, was just trying to conquer GCSEs not fight an evil wizard snaked hybrid man or whatever Voldemort is.  I identified with the loneliness and the need for control that I saw in Cassie, and was like “oH eM GeE, tHat’s sO mE!” at Spencer’s perfectionism. When I was speeding for my exams (and then, unfortunately, for long after), I felt spiritually connected to that whole Pretty Little Liars arc where Spencer started popping adderall on the daily even though I could really only wish for someone to care about me enough to stalk me like A did and the worst possible outcome of my all nighter was not taking in enough content to bullshit my way through a 30 marker.

They would understand me, they would be my friend. They represent me. That was the baseline sentiment of my obsession. And I think that’s the borderline part of me jumping out. See, such a huge part of BPD is feeling unwanted and misunderstood and forgettable and really, deeply lonely.  Like it’s a kind of loneliness I think you feel like an actual person can never really fulfil because the (faulty and not necessarily reflective of reality) thought pattern is that they’ll lose interest and leave you sooner or later. Fictional characters are always there, until the show gets cancelled or the character gets killed off, at least, and then comes the completely disproportionate tidal wave of grief. They exist in a different world too, a one that feels a lot less dangerous (even if it’s actually way more dangerous, I mean I really wouldn’t last five fucking minutes in Westeros) and detached from the often chronically muted reality of BPD.

Then there’s the trouble with the sense of self, part and package of BPD for most, which facilitates, you know, thinking that a genius witch or, like, any character in skins (because in hindsight as great as that show was, WHY DO NONE OF THEM HAVE JOBS YET SEEMINGLY AN ENDLESS SUPPLY OF DRUGS AND PARENTS THAT NEVER SEEM TO CARE WHERE THE HELL THEY ARE!?) resembles you as a person in any way. Though I suppose I’m learning recently as I begin to reflect more on what I enjoy and value, I’ve never had much more than a vague idea of what my positive qualities are, so when I saw them fully realised in a character it was a treasure trove of mannerisms and traits and ways of carrying oneself to adopt. It becomes a mould into which you can squeeze the ball of meh-ness and uncertainty you feel you resemble. Now I’m realising that although it might take me a little more time and a lot more effort, it’s much more rewarding to become the very best version of myself, but back then, I suppose I didn’t recognise why I was doing what I was doing. 

I only got diagnosed with BPD and started learning about it when it was 19, so all the years before that were pretty much spent unaware of the reasons why I had these quirks. As I “recover” (I suppose that’s the right word) and I get back into hobbies and spend more time with friends, I feel like I’m beginning to discover more and more of who I am. I’m starting to accept that there are positive things about me and plenty of things for people to like, right here in this world, not some fictional one.

I still love characters way too much and get overly attached and invested in TV shows but even that doesn’t necessarily have to be something to be ashamed of. When I’ve got into *ahem* discussions with people online about characters before, I’ve occasionally gotten the “why do you care so much, it’s not real life!” in response, and I mean, there’s definitely a point to be made if your passion for something is causing you to lash out at real life people with real life feelings. But when you’re not, when it can give you hours of discussion and entertainment and can drive you to make real positive changes in the world too, what’s wrong with passion? There’s nothing I love more than having a conversation with someone who I can tell really loves what they’re talking about, so why should I be ashamed of having the capacity to become deeply invested in things too? I think as long as it’s not taking over my life as I have allowed it to do so in the past, there’s nothing wrong with having passion for fictional things or for anything, for that matter. As long as it’s not something fucked up, like idk, white supremacy or Rick and Morty (JOKING). 

I don’t regret loving all the things I loved because being a huge Harry Potter fan for so many years did give me an escape when I absolutely hated myself and couldn’t find much enjoyment in real life. I hope that if I do have children one day, they’ll love it too, maybe not quite as much as I did but enough for it to give them all the joy it gave me, all the same. So in summary, yeah, fuck David Benioff and Dan Weiss (lmao, I’m joking, they’re just shitty original screenplay writers who could probably do with a class or two on how to write female characters), but also, understand before you make fun of someone for being overly invested in something that there’s probably a good reason for it and that, at the end of the day, they’re usually not hurting anyone. I’ll probably still be stanning Daenerys Targaryen and pretending season 8 episode 5 didn’t happen until the day I die. Let me live, okay?

Lauren x

[lianors]

THIRD CHALLENGE  — character study for lianor montagu.

word count: 4006 (minus questions) / points earned: 30

tw: abusive parental relationship, self image discussion, death, miscarriage.

001. describe  your  characters’ relationship  with  their mother  or  father, or  both.  minimum word  count:  150. 

wc: 424.

like most young noble women in the early centuries, her parents made sure lianor grew aware of the duties she would one day have to fulfill--only that in the eldest beauchamp's case, she was not to be groomed for a grand marriage right away, but to continue her mother's line in the royal household. beatriz meant to use her child as an extension of herself; while the queen was to remain at greenwhich with her lady in waiting, their daughters were to remain side by side in wales, with the baroness' daughter obliged to keep her mother informed and the princess content.

this amount of responsibility made her mature faster and strained her childhood considerably, resigning her to a smaller role in the egocentric play that is youth, when you are supposed to be at its center--such views still heavily impact her current mousey personality on her eagerness to please and her mild inability to malice.

incapacity to comply to her mother's requests and demands led to insults and punishments severely kept even through distance, but accomplishments meant receiving small gestures of kindness and praise. however, the emotional abuse endured has always been misguided as motherly care and affection, and beatriz remains as a sort of goal to her eldest daughter in many instances. still, lia consciously understands her mother's flaws and the impact it has had on herself, and, whilst engaging on the occasional self-pity for that, she actively works on shifting her own children's upbringing to the opposite of her own.

perhaps because her mother has always been so strict, richard acted as a smoothening hand, keeping constant affectionate correspondence to include her as a beauchamp alongside her younger siblings. for their physical distance, they both attempted to form a bond -- it was strengthened by similar (albeit, at the beginning, feigned, solely for the goal of receiving his affection) interests such as the running of the kidderminster state and a keenness for architectural and exterior design.

the relationship has somewhat strained in the wake of her position as a mistress--her father could no longer idolize her as a wide eyed four year old when she was a woman grown, committing adultery within the marriage he had arranged for her, with a man who will never have her in a honorable manner.

though often accused to conspire to elevate his family through whoring his daughter, the baron is in fact uncomfortably against the relationship, often advising her to stick to her marital bed despite how badly that would play to their family's betterment.

002. what  are  your characters’  most  prominent physical  features?  what is  a  feature that  they  are most  insecure  about? what  are  they proudest  of?

if you are to be quite obvious, then that would be the red hair plus grey-green eyes combo--her hair is thick, in a vibrant shade of auburn that shines even bellow modest headwear, and her eyes are very big, with protruding eyelids and long carmine lashes. they beg for contact, locking on her interlocutor with an unnerving curiosity, even over the smallest, pettiest subjects.

modest, lia often chooses to be proud about the things that people compliment, so her response would match mine, only accompanied by random facts about the source of her rose water, a self-depreciative tone and a bat of eyelashes to convey a coyness that is bred on insecurity.

due to her low self esteem, there are actually plenty of topics she diminishes about herself: her body type, too lean to be considered attractive to time standards, used to plague her mind whenever she strip off her heavy garments for the night. after childbirth, her curves have been accentuated and she has gained enough weight for her to swat away this particular worry, but another physical detail continues to haunt her: her bone structure is well pronounced, with high cheekbones and full cheeks, a sharp jaw and a slightly protruding chin; her mouth is large, and her gums frequently peek out whenever she laughs or talks too excitedly -- her mother caught that once, and reprimanded her by calling her horse faced, a petty nickname that haunts her to refrain herself from expressing glee in public to this day.

003. how  vain  is your  character?  do they  find  themselves attractive?  what  is their  worst  flaw, and  are  they aware  of  it?

although lianor can not say she is unattractive, she has a remarkably low self esteem that drives her to compare herself to others, picking unimportant details that makes her stand out and deeming herself plain. one would propel themselves to rise their “boring” beauty with earthly possessions, but lia’s flares of vanity are scattered and inconstant, due to this very self-image problem she carries. her worst characteristic, if this is to be taken to the psychological realm as i believe, would be her hypocrisy, which pairs very well with her ability to delude herself -- due to the deep rooted delusion of moral superiority, she often makes herself blind to it.

004. what  is  your character’s  ranking  on the  kinsey  scale?

conditioned to both servitude under one mistress, and to fulfill her marriage duties in order to better her family's standing, lianor was thrust in a world she was to keep company of women but to learn how to please men. that lead her to seek out to comply by her curiosity with the same gender at first, but she was bound to believe any dalliance and further interest she kept on her fellow women was to be taken as platonic friendships, and any physical event to happen between her and a woman to be a test, a practice run, a way to please the prince that one time she shares a welsh girl with him, ignoring how good it felt when her lips met the wench’s. thus, i would classify her as a hesitant two, leaning towards one on the scale--interesting enough, she goes on the far opposite for her modern verse, ranking a prideful four in a clear preference towards women (harry, unfortunately, remains her hetero exception).

005. describe  your  character’s happiest  memory.  minimum word  count:  150. 

wc: 519

childhood is an age of egotism. it is the time of your life things are excused by the notion of one’s innocence, granted by the holy sacrament of the washing of sins. such notions rings truer the higher in hierarchy one is born into; while the prince of wales’ name day festivities were grand affairs, with foreign emissaries and gifts richer than our savior’s on his birth day, lianor stays by her mother’s skirts, fingers twiddling in intimidation and anxiety. she has tears in her eyes as little clem holds the prince’s hand, parading him to their portuguese relations; lianor wants nothing but to run out of the gardens, but she hesitates, scared she would be punished harsher if she ran to hide her tears than if she stayed put, red faced in the effort not to burst in a crying fit.

it was not fair her friends received a feast for the ages while she was not able to get her father to visit her in a whole year. that cloak of ignorance prevents her from understanding the demands of a war campaign, or how a landowner’s duties cannot withstand distance for a mere sentimentality.

two months and six days later, there is still war to be won and foreign men to kill, but he comes as an unmistakable figure: tall and dark, still sporting some of his battle gear. when he picks her up -- hello, my princess, whispered against her hair -- she smells the sweat, the soot from the road, the overwhelming sweat of horse and man and something that should taste metallic, but she is too young to be familiar with it. they have not seen each other in a year, but she swears father smells of home, of worcester. he must, mustn't he?

richard spends the day, hand in hand with his daughter, a curious silence as he listens to her go on about the whole year spent apart -- he cuts her only when they reach the royal gardeners who worked on rooting the plants brought as a gift with the braganza; he sends him them off and tells his daughter they will do it themselves. by the end of it they are both sweaty, her dress stained with mud and dirt and grass; he promises to get her a new one as he washes the filth out of her hands, paying close attention as he cleans her nails, as gentle as a soldier yet as attentively as an experienced ladies' maid.

the domesticity of a single day with her father should hardly pay up for years of absence and mild abandonment, but the memory remains very dear to lianor, for it had put her, a whiny child who was not even his heir, as important enough for her father to forgo his duties to appease her, even if for pity. as someone who had to learn to resign herself to a smaller position and to have her wishes disregarded in favor of another's, she sees the idyllic day of her ninth name day as a proof love matters, that she matters.

006. is  there  one event  in  your characters’  life  that they  would  like to  erase  from their  past?  why? minimum  word  count: 200. 

wc: 590.

she is granted a small leave for her mother’s lying in -- the announcement of a pregnancy this late in the baroness’ life had driven her eldest daughter to tears of laughter, a brief moment of mocking that had become a remorseful memory when she understood how dangerous it was -- which gleefully coincided with john’s fifteenth name day. to say lia had been more excited for the later would be an understatement, for she had spent the past six months looking for the perfect present. she had exchanged letters with a bride-to-be, fashioning the marriage to be a good gift for his coming of age; she had requested fine silks to work on making a suitable, rich clothing from scratch; she had even looked over every stable between ludlow to london in the search of a good stallion for the boy.

driven by her brother’s recently deepened passion for animals, she decides by the horse, a majestic mixed breed from the king’s own personal stable. a young, fierce thing, it had not yet been broken -- lianor imagined lizzie and her would have quite a laugh while watching the boy flee from the grand beast; a much needed distraction from mother’s cantankerous nature, worsened by each passing month of the recommended bed rest.

to relieve her sister from another tormentous morning, lianor assumes the position of vigil by their mother’s bedside. she recalls vividly that particular morning, when she woke with the scent of a full chamber pot and the shrieking patter of “how damned i must be at this age, with a wee one kicking at my and my daughter hell bent on making us living in a pigsty”. it was pure annoyance that lead lianor outside in order to clean the dark confinement room, and to fetch herself something to eat; her ribs ached from the poor sleeping position from the night before, papa was nowhere to be seen, and her copper haired brother pestered her to let him go outside and play with his present.

“just go already!” were her last words for john, who ran out of her eyesight before she could return to her senses.

though her patience plagues at her senses early, appeasing mother keeps her occupied enough to stop her from acting on her remorse; she imagines something sweet would do to remedy any resentment between the siblings over her curt words earlier, a cake sweetened with honey and covered in fresh fruit. the batter is not yet whipped when the boy’s body comes; the shattered bowl nearly cutting skin as it falls on the kitchen floor, where richard rushes to put the boy down by the hearth. john moaned in pain, begging for something to appease the cold and feverishly asking of the horse.

“what was that?” beatriz asks as soon as her eldest daughter enters the room, stupor coloring the girl’s cheeks and making her livid -- the only thing she felt was the lingering taste of fruit in her tongue. her mother is worry personified, eyes widen, belly swollen; it would take her one push to get up from her long confinement, one fall to end it for her. lia is by the bedside in one moment, guiding her mother back into the bed, tightening the blankets around the pregnant woman; she swallows the taste of cake and gal and the heaviness of tears, and utters a smile. “margaret dropped the bowl for john’s cake, cut her hand. silly girl. rest, mama. i will bring you a slice soon.”

007. let’s  talk  favourites! what  is  their favourite  colour,  food, and  season?   what, in  a  modern setting,  would  be your  character’s  favourite song?

the vibrancy of her hair made her find what suits her best early on, so she began to favor yellow (from pale to gold) and green (she often adorns herself with emeralds); she also enjoys earthy tones, and pale, “pure” colors such as blues and soft pink. not commonly boastful, she exempts her modesty in her culinary taste, enjoying fruits and having a very well-known sweet tooth she often indulges on. for season, it would have to be spring, when the blossoms pucker out and the air is filled with that utopic scent of life. tbh i don’t really know music, so i’ll just spitball it and say lia listens to a lot of musical tracks and movie soundtracks.

008. can  you  define a  turning  point in  your  character’s life?

she suffered a miscarriage at kidderminster in 1448, which alarmed her mother to her misbehaving and propelled her to a marriage that would happen within the next eight months.

009. is  your  character an  early  morning bird  or  a night  owl?  at what  time  do they  get  most of  their  work done?

over a decade priming herself to be the first to wake so she would ready clementine has entrenched a routine in the eldest beauchamp which causes her inability to stay and sleep in, regardless of exhaustion or a vacant schedule. so she rises early, and has only recently learned how to indulge herself a couple of hours longer in bed with her children, her lover or amidst letters that have piled up over the week.  

010 a.  what  other character,  a  npc or  someone  apart of  the  rp, is  your  character completely  real  with? who  knows  them best,  has  seen them  at  their most  vulnerable,  knows their  innermost  and basest  fears?  b. if  your  character does  not  have this  person,  why? do  they  long for  one?

over the years she has learned the value of keeping things only for herself, so this may be a bit tricky. she confides and is confided on often by harry and clementine, but she usually refrains, and watches her words carefully when it comes to her own private matters. perhaps the one she would speak the most candidly to would be her sister, whom she trusts wholeheartedly -- particularly because her secrets have already been spilled in the beauchamp household, and to attempt a facade next to her sister is not only unnecessary, but also exhaustive.

011. is  your  character a  neat  or messy  person?

incredibly neat. lianor is a bit of a freak on that subject even--out of habit, she is known for fixing portraits out of place, quickly picking up at clothes discarded and subtly nagging at those who do not meet her standards.

012. does  your  character have  any  irrational fears  or  phobias?

many, though most would fall on the psychological realm such as being left or her secrets being found out leading to herself and her family’s fall from grace. after her last pregnancy, she has been extremely careful not to fall with child, afraid that if her fertility flares up once more it will be the last she will be able to carry whilst remaining on her position.

013. does  your  character have  an  underlying passion  or  trait that  influences  all aspects  of  their life?

a trait could be her ability to compromise. when they look at her, as they think her submissive -- which, to be quite fair, she is -- but lia also enjoys seeing things going her way, lately in a manipulative manner; she does not mind being diminished and, being adaptive, she doesn't mind playing by someone else's games, as long as the results end up pleasing her somehow (i.e: letting her husband humiliate her a time or two in exchange for her sexual and emotional "freedom".)

 014. what  might  your character’s  ideal  romantic person  be?

this is probably one of the most difficult questions on this because lia is so very particular, and she has already made her mind about not trailing off in fantasies -- as a woman wed for five years, and engaged in a dalliance nearly twice as long, she feels it is wrong, kind of a betrayal for her to wish her partner(s) to be different. as she grew, like many other girls, she wanted someone gallant -- tall and athletic, of high birth to please her mother; she needed him to be understanding for she did not want to leave her position by the princess, but he should also be devoted, because she needs someone to make it known she matters for him. she would rather him not to be too old, because she wanted many children, and to raise them as a harmonious, loving couple. nowadays, she is more realistic, and would settle for the understanding bit in a man; however, she is well aware that if her husband were to pass, she would remain a widow for the rest of her days (something she wouldn't complain much about, considering how miserable she has been in a disagreeable marriage).

015. describe  your  character’s hands.  are  they small,  long,  calloused, smooth,  stubby,  dexterous or  clumsy?  do they  wear  any jewelry  and  would they  wear  polish in  a  modern setting?

remarkably petite, her hands break the consensus: large for her standard size, with long thin fingers and a translucent -- slightly reddened at the knuckles and fingertips -- skin that makes the purple lines all the more vibrant, they are a matter of insecurity for the countess. yet she can not drop the habit to pull at them, twisting her fingers nervously and picking at jewelry. her insecurities are, for most part, ill found: her hands are nimble and dexterous, well matched with quick reflexes that allow her a talented hand at most repetitive activity that would put them in the spotlight, such as calligraphy or needlepoint; when involved by another’s, they remain just as small as she is, and their softness to the touch grants her further adoration, as she is keen to give affection by physical touch.

as she displays wealth sparingly, other than on short occasions such as feasts, she only wears rings that hold some sort of meaning: a signet of the beauchamp her father had crafted upon her birth, and a locket ring harry plantagenet gifted her about five years ago.

modern lianor has trouble growing her nails for many years -- her fingers are bleeding stomps through most of her childhood to teenage hood, and she only gains the habit of properly manicuring by the age of fourteen, and that is mostly because of her jealousy over the sound of her friend’s nails tapping against hard surfaces. for most, she keeps her nails at a modest length, painting it with nude colors and pepper-infused bases (to refrain her from biting the polish and her nails off) on weekdays and sporadically indulging in her sister’s collection of dark metallic colors.

016. how  does  your character  smell?  what is  their  favourite scent?

another monster question only because i can't tell scents apart -- what is sweet? you're not eating perfume, karen. but, well, knowing lianor, i believe she leans towards more citrusy smells, luxuriously infusing cut up lemons and oranges in her rose water when she bathes; it proves to be an expensive habit seeing as she bathes with some regularly, often more than a couple times per week. anachronically hygienic, she blames it on her mother's portuguese habits, but the truth is she just enjoys feeling cool and smelling nice.

017. how  would  your muse  describe  their religious  beliefs?

the portuguese are well known for their strong faith, and beatriz is no different. she made sure her children were practicing catholics, and lia grew up fearing both god and her mother's wrath. by staying as true as she can to her book of praying, she understands that god is also love, and that she should attempt to make religion a less dull duty when she passes that around, either that be to her younger companions or, currently, to her children. despite that optimism, she is terrified of the curses she may unleash upon her own by her godless misbehavior, and promptly donates in abundance to the clergy.

018. what  rules  does your  muse  live by,  if  any?

loyalty above all. there are things to gain from remaining constant in your favor, especially when your fortunes are dependent on how higher born people feel about you. thankfully, lianor was graced with patience and willingness, but to accept her submission and to bite her tongue is at times still an arduous task she must prevail, not only for her own good now but her children's.

019. does  your  muse overshare,  or  are they  more  private?

now, that’s very dependent. lia is, by rule, very private -- incredibly quiet, she is comfortable with silence, and prefers to remain tight lipped around court. But, curious as she is, it does not take long for her to bloom into a conversation if it interests her enough; her tongue loosens by her passion on the subject, either that be in a negative or a positive light. still, her words are well measured, her speech purposefully tattered with meaningless, lovely, at times pathological anecdotes to endear the people she wants on her side. true confessions only escapes her in the presence of those she cherishes the most and are her longest standing confidants.

020. is  your  muse a  gossiper?  are they  more  likely to  argue  with their  fists  or tongue?  what  does their  voice  sound like?

due to the misfortunate rumors that seem to follow her in court, lianor abstain from gossip--however, that hardly means she is not observant and keen of the talk, especially when it involves something about her loved ones and that could be of help for them.

as she is virtually unable to protect herself physically, her few lessons in sword fighting long forgotten as childhood play, she must hone her tongue from time to time to protect herself -- truly, she is not proficient at that, and oftentimes she ends up abiding by the humiliation.

lianor is very soft spoken, with a honeyed, deep yet feminine voice. (i’m not certain how to describe a voice lmao hers is charlotte’s real voice, outside of that ridiculous accent from the spanish princess).

021. is  your  muse  a …  pessimist  or optimist …  lover  or fighter … believer  in  happy endings …  believer  in love  at  first sight?

she walks a line between both, though she is originally very optimistic and often attempts to keep herself upbeat. unmistakably a lover, though reality has dulled her romanticism and makes her cynical towards these notions of an easy love--instead, love must be kept and groomed for it to grow and remain.

022. what  sense  of humour  does  your character  have?

a poor one. lianor doesn’t consider herself particularly funny, so she often falls to depreciating, insulting jokes she is the subject to; jests about herself from other people, though, drive her to annoyance. though she is sensitive and rather particular about what amuses her, she can be efficient in continuing a playful round of tease between those she favors.

023. what  bad  habits does  your  character have?

the most pertinent misbehavior i have pointed out a few times is her growing habit to turn to deception. as a young woman whose future depends on how she keeps her honor, either that be physical or psychological, she was, in a practical, vocal sense of it, discouraged to lie, but lia caught people doing it so anyways, if only to disburden themselves by a white lie. a white lie, that is what she claims to use in her favor; it is necessary not to hurt herself and her loved ones, so she tells herself, even as she spews unnecessary fantasious tales.

024. how  does  your character  feel  about growing  old?

i believe she remains ambiguous about it, as most women do? though her power and wealth comes from a position maintained assumingly by her body, she does not fret about this so much, for if her beauty faded, she would still have her mind and, she hopes, harry’s heart. however, when she first saw a pale thread among her fiery tresses, she probably thought of her mother’s own graying hair, and how in old age she will deteriorate to the point of non-recognition and complete oblivion, souring her moods and driving her to isolation.

025. does  your  character prefer  adventure  to safety  and  security?

adventure had never been much of an opportunity, for she is of lesser noble birth, and her family’s odds depended on her ability to better herself by marriage or service to the crown. so she faithfully abided for most of her youth, but bouts of recklessness were not absent in her idyllic days at the welsh border, and whenever she felt her cheeks aching just from laughing, she imagined this was the kind of life one is supposed to lead. she always, soon enough, promptly convinced herself it was not the right life, and she strives for stability, a calm, quiet life alongside the people she loves -- it is a naive thought, though, and she brushes it off to return to her duties.

[cargoshortsenjoyer]

The First~Cola-Tectives

{Hello cops and criminals to the first ever Cola-tective fanfic.! The idea was made by @yumyjamy, so check them out, and the story you’re about to read itself was written by me! So, get your regular/diet cola, some bacon, sit back, and enjoy the show! Also, this is EXTREMLY LONG.}

~~~

“Ahhh yes! Number one, here I come!” Eduardo was speed walking-okay, let’s face it, sprinting-towards the office. He had just gotten out of his car and was convinced he was going to win this year.

Every year, Edd had gotten the most number of cases solved in the entire department and got the honor; the best parking space and a plaque that said he was the best.

And he always rubbed Eduardo’s face into it.

So this year he had worked extremely hard, missed countless hours of sleep, and tried even harder to win this year. His girlfriend Laurel had even broke up with him due to the amount of time he was spending on these cases. It broke Eduardo’s heart, but the loss only pushed him to work even harder, not even allowing himself to think about his former lover.

So you can imagine what thoughts ran through his head when he saw that he had lost by a mere 3 cases.

“Haha! Guess who won, Eduardo!” Edd exclaimed, thus fulfilling the prophecy of him being a huge d*ck, “Me! I did!”

Eduardo was about to say something to him when Captain Connie and Lieutenant Mason came up to the both of them.

“Excuse me, am I interrupting something here?” The Captain asked, arms crossed over his dark blue police uniform, blond hair combed over to the side to create the illusion that his hairline wasn’t receding, even though no one was being fooled. He were a bit taller than the person next to him, Mason, who was a little skinnier and lighter, dirty blond hair cut a bit longer than everyone’s, with a pen over their ear.

“Nothing important.” Eduardo said, backing away from Edd. This isn’t over. He thought to himself, glaring at Edd as if he could make him hear that threat

“Yep. What’s up, my man?” Eduardo hated how causally Edd talked to the Captain. He’s not his brother or a best friend! He’s a colleague! One that usually only used him! Eduardo! He was Connie’s number one detective, not Edd!

“We have a fresh case ready for you. We’ll need to have you there in ten.” The Captain said, holding out the case file just between the two men while cringing at the greeting

“I’m on it!” The two detectives replied at the same time

“He handed it to me!” Eduardo said, and jerked the file away from Edd

“Actually, he handed it to me!” Edd grabbed the file again, and pulled

It was this close to turning into a tug-o-war until the Lieutenant Mason spoke up and stopped them.

“Why don’t you both work together?”

Eduardo and Edd stared at him in utter shock then rage.

“I’m never working with this idiot!”

“Why would I do that!?”

“I have standards!!”

“Can you two shut up!?” The captain shouted, turning heads all around the office. Edd tilts his head down a bit and tries to avoid eye contact with anyone while Eduardo closes his eyes and runs a hand threw his hair, “Now, I am ashamed of you two. The Lieutenant made an excellent point. You two are the most experienced and successful detectives out there. You two collaborating on this case would be extremely beneficial to not only the moral of everyone in this office, but also the public, for they would be safe from dangerous killers.”

“Are you saying that we’d have to do this more than once?” Eduardo looks horrified, as if he had just seen a 5ft tall spider

“We’ll see how this one works out. First, we’ll need to go to the crime scene. You’re little spat with each other cost us valuable time. Let’s go.”

~

They open the door and walk into the house, and see a huge mess and a room, policemen already on the scene, some detectives were there, too. A child and a man stood near the dead body, the both of them crying and hugging each other.

“Oh, hey, the legends are here!” Mark; a policeman; said, leaving Eduardo eternially grateful that the word legends had an ‘s’ at the end

“It looks like a robbery.” Edd states walking around the room, nearly tripping on a fallen lamp.

“Pfft, I could have guessed that.” Eduardo rolled his eyes.

“Eduardo.” Captain looked sternly at Eduardo, forcing said man to avert his eyes

Edd finally got to the child and man.

“Excuse me, who are you?” Edd said calmly

“I’m-i’m…” The child broke into sobs again, and clingged to their father. The father whispered a sorry and pulled away

“Hi, I’m Alastor, this is Altan, and that...was my wife, Mallory.” The man dabs a handkerchief to the corner of his eye as he turns away from the body

The body was lying on its back, a pair of scissors lodged in its throat, blood on its hands and around the body, on the table, and especially on the neck.

“We can only assume there was a struggle.” Lieutenant Mason said, reading from a small notebook with scribbled words about different cases on it’s pages, “We believe that due to the position the body is in and the amount of blood around it that the body was not moved post-mortem, there was a phone call at around 5 minutes after the death, and…” They flipped through a couple more pages, “and that’s about it right now.”

“I just...I loved her so much! Why would anyone do this?” Alastor cried out, “And for money!?”

“Actually it wasn’t a robbery.” Eduardo said, crossing his arms

“What do you mean it wasn’t a robbery?” Mason asked

“It means it wasn’t a robbery.” Eduardo repeated, rolling his eyes

“You know, you’re going to have to explain to us why you think that.” Connie said, one eyebrow raised, while Mason clicked their pen and opened their notepad again

Eduardo was already tired of this. I mean, he was used to people just sorta...trusting him. Not forcing him to explain himself, while that did make more sense. He was annoyed before they even got to the crime scene, and he was even more annoyed when he got there.

“Well, none of the drawers are open, the body’s pockets weren’t looked through, and it generally looks like nothing was stolen. Am I wrong?” Eduardo looks at Alastor and Atlan

“You’re right, actually, we couldn’t find anything missing.” Alastor said

“Well then. I guess that proves my-” Eduardo was cut off by - who else? - Edd

“Did your wife have any enemies, Alastor?” Edd asked, then mumbled to Mason, “Get your notepad ready.”

“Um, not that I know of.” Alastor said. Altan opened his mouth to say something, then closed it quickly, too fast for anyone to notice

“Well, maybe it was a someone you didn’t know, then.” Edd said

“Well duh! That’s what he just-” Once again. Cut off by Edd

“And maybe they didn’t know you.” Edd continued, glaring at Eduardo, which the other man gladly returned

“And maybe-” Eduardo was cut off by Edd. Again.

“And maybe-” Eduardo cut off Edd this time

“Listen to me, Edd-”

“No, you listen to me-”

“No, you-”

“You-”

“You-”

“You-”

“YOU-”

“WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT UP AND ACT LIKE F*CKING ADULTS?!” The Captain’s face twisted into one of anger. He glared at the two men, who once again looked down in shame. Connie took in a breath to yell some more before realizing everyone in the room was staring at him. He was already warned about potentially losing his job because of his outbursts, and him yelling at the top of his lungs like that could not be good for his reputation. And it didn’t help that those two detectives brought out the worst in him separate, let alone together. He decided to do the only thing he could do.

“Um...Capta-” Mason started

“We’re going outside.” Connie was clearly trying to look calm though it somehow looked even more frightening

Edd and Eduardo, along with a happy-ish Mason who knew they finally weren’t the one in trouble, walked outside a little while until they were away from the crime scene and most people.

Connie takes a deep breath in as Edd and Eduardo brace for the worst, not-so secretly hoping the other would get fired.

“Why the f*ck do you two hate each other so much?” Connie’s hands were now out of his face and curled up into balls, his eyes shut tight, as if they might burst out if he opened them

“Um, Captain?” Mason asked, tucking his notepad safely in his jacket

“Not now, Lieutenant.” Connie said sternly

“But-”

“NOT NOW!” Connie yelled. A few easily-frightened birds flew out of the trees while the other braver ones just took a few steps back. Some people turned to stare but one look from the Captain sent them walking, though you could tell they were still trying to listen in

The Captain took another big sigh.

“See what you two do? Why do you idiots have to bring out the worst in me? Can’t you see that your actions directly affect the people around you? People like me?” A pause for effect, “My boss has already told me that another outburst could mean I lose my job!”

“Lose your job?!” Mason replied in shock, “But bossing people around is all you’ve ever known!!”

Connie shoots a glare at Mason, who backs down quickly, slouching and hoping they aren’t the one who’s yelled at next.

“You could lose your jo-”

“I’m not done yet!” Connie cuts Edd off, leaving Eduardo smiling. Edd should get yelled at once in a while! He deserved it in Eduardo’s book, especially since he’d been the one yelled at for pretty much his whole career, while Edd got to sit back and have some other, nicer guy as his boss. It made Eduardo so mad just thinking about it.

“You two lame-*sses better get your act together or I will make your life very f*cking hard. Understand?” The question was asked through gritted teeth, making it clear that the option ‘no’ was not an answer.

“Yes sir.” Eduardo stood up a little taller, still looking at Edd

“Yeah.” Edd said

“Okay. Now you two are going to go back in there and solve that case if it’s the last thing you ever do.” Connie said, and started walking back to the crime scene, the lieutenant and detectives close behind.

~

When they finally get back to the crime scene people again start to stare, before eventually giving up and realising the Captain’s not going to yell again. A few minutes pass and Mark, one of the police officers, walks up to Edd and Eduardo.

“We found this. It came out of the printer a while ago. We were going to give it to you earlier, but…” Mark’s eyes dart to Connie then back again, “You know.”

“Yeah. Let me see it.” Edd takes the paper and looks at it.

“I want to see it too!” Eduardo says, moving closer to look at the paper

A9E0F6

F4ACD7

FFFFFF

F4ACD7

A9E0F6

“Huh. They’re just random numbers with squares of color above each of them.” Edd says, tilting his head sideways like a dog

“Do you know what they mean?” Altan asked, moving closer, voice high-pitched in fear but also excitement

“No. It’s a black and white printer, so we can’t see the color.” Edd explained

“Oh.” A pause,”Uh, you will eventually though, right?”

“Of course we will! We’re the best detectives money can buy!”

“That’s good to hear.” The kid exhales, looking sad and distraught

“Yeah! I wanna find who killed her and throw the sicko in jail!” Alastor exclaimed

“Y-yeah.” Altan wiped his tears, then directly at Edd, “You have to find her.”

“Why did you assume it was a girl?” Edd asked, Eduardo turning his head towards the boy as well.

“What?” The boy looks surprised, then explains, “Well, I guess I just was thinking about my mom, so I said her. Why? Do you think it’s a boy?” Altan looks sad, thinking about his mom, of course

“Maybe, maybe not. The reason we asked was because you said ‘her’ very positively. Like you were sure. But since you’re in such distress we won’t push anything.” Edd reassured as The Captain’s phone rang

“Hey, sorry guys, I have to take this.” As the Captain walked away the trio kept talking, Mason wrote the important stuff down.

“Do you think your father is a part of all this?” Eduardo asked

“W-what do you mean?” The kid asked

“I’m gonna be frank with you, kid,” Edd said, talking quietly so the father, (he had walked away a while ago to talk to another female cop), “I think you’re father killed your mom.”

Altan looked terrified. “Y-you think so? Wha-what do you mean?”

“Edd!” Eduardo whisper-screamed

“What?” Edd whispered normally back

“You shouldn’t just straight up say that to the kid! You have to question him in a more…” Eduardo looks down, thinking of what word he wants to use to describe it, “vague approach.”

“Fine. Then you talk to the kid.” Edd said, squinting his eyes while pushing back his shoulders and standing up straighter

“Fine! I wi-”

“You guys realize that I can hear you, right?” Altan said, furrowed brow as he bites his lip for a second

The father walks back, with a look of confusion on his face.

“Did I hear what I thought I heard?” He asked

“What do you mean?” Edd asked, furrowing his brow as he takes a step back, almost knocking Eduardo into a wall

“I would never kill anybody.” Alastor said, “Ever. I could never hurt anybody.” His eyes start to tear up, “And she was my wife!”

He wipes the tears from his eyes, but then more come. He almost looks confused by it, or something, but he starts sobbing, as if the death of his loved one finally sank in. Altan hugs his father and they both walk outside with a police officer telling them about how it’s going to be okay.

The two detectives then hear Mason walking towards them.

“Heya!” Edd smiles, eyes scrunching up, “How are you?”

“Fine, but come outside with me.” He replied, a serious look painting his expression

“Right now? We’re in the middle of a-” Eduardo replied, rolling his eyes

“Trust me, you’re going to want to hear this.” Mason smiled sadly, and as they walked outside Edd accidentally bumped into Eduardo again, knocking him into Alastor

“Watch it!” Alastor exclaimed, shoving Eduardo back into Edd

“Look, guys…” Mason lead them further away from the crime scene, “Connie told me to tell you two that you don’t have to work on this case anymore! Yay…”

“What?” Eduardo looked confused

“But we’re onto the killer, it’s A-” Edd started, only to have Mason put their finger on his lips

“Look Edd, Alastor is a very...uh…” Mason looks down for a second trying to find the words, “important, powerful guy. We sho-”

“Whatever! I’m outta here!” Alastor yelled at the police man, wiping a stray tear with one hand and holding onto his son with the other, starting walking to his car

“Let’s go-go to the mall, please?” Altan asked quietly as he was pulled away

“We shouldn’t accuse him of murder.” Mason finished

“But that’s silly!” Edd cried, standing up straighter, hands balling up into fists, “Just because he has a high standing in society doesn’t mean we should let him get away with murder!”

“You...you really are sure that much?” Mason asked, and turned back to look at Connie who was talking to a reporter about the scene, “If the media found out about this, the department could be in serious trouble. The Captain told me Alastor’s friends with the head of the department! If you accuse him, and you’re wrong, it’ll be terrible for all of us! We could-”

“...And here you see the detectives, working hard on the case. Any information you’d like to give the public?” The reporter had walked up to them, much to The Captain’s dismay if the look on his face was anything to go off of, and held the mic up to his face

“Umm…” Edd’s eyes skittered from place to place. They saw Mason, desperately shaking their head, Connie, glaring at him with an eyes that read don’t you dare. And also Eduardo, folding his arms and looking angrily to the side, as if he wanted the pressure of deciding what to say. Although he probably just wanted to be acknowledged as the head detective. Edd noticeably started to sweat, and, thinking he wouldn’t say anything at all, Mason and Connie both gave a sigh of relief, while Eduardo just stayed there.

Edd shook his head, stood tall, and grabbed the microphone roughly from the reporter lady. (He’ll have to apologize for that later). Everyone else waited in shock. The popular, beloved detective was about to say something amazing and important.

“We think it was Alastor!” Edd shouted, a smile of triumph on his face

Everything fell silent. Mason slapped his palm onto his face and Connie looked ready to kill. Eduardo looked shocked, pissed even, that Edd said the word ‘we’. Edd had a good reputation that was slightly tarnished, but the public didn’t know Eduardo at all. A slightly tarnished reputation was better than a completely bad one in Eduardo’s book.

“And do you have any proof?” The reporter asked, knowing a scoop like that would be legendary

“Well...not yet, but-”

“Then why do you think it was alright to just assume something like that?” The reporter asked, knowing a lying detective would also be a great scoop.

“Well, I-” Edd started

“The public doesn’t think you could’ve thought that yourself. Did this new guy brainwash you?” Another reporter asked, pointing their camera at Eduardo, (Where were they coming from?)

“That’s a bit extreme, it was my-”

“The public needs to know, you’re so good at solving crimes, are you an alien?” A third one asked, (Seriously, did they grow on trees?!)

“Obviously not, I-”

“What my friend here is trying to say,” The Captain asked, “Is that we’re out of time. See you later.”

And with that, they were whisked away back to the car from which they came and to the office from there.

“So, uh,” The Captain asked as he closed his office door, “What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I-” Edd started

“Now thanks to you I have reporters all over me asking if I made you say that, and-”

“Can you just let me talk?” Edd raised his voice a little. He was tired of being interrupted.

“Did you just say that?” Connie asked, in a surprisingly ‘I’m totally fine’ manner with an undertone of ‘I can kill you in ways you could never imagine if you ever say something like that again’

That seemed to be even more terrifying than any yell.

“Er, yes, I did.” Connie opens his mouth to presumably yell, but Edd cuts him off, “Just trust me, okay? I know it might seem stupid at first, to accuse someone who - even if they are guilty - would just buy their way to freedom, but-”

“Might?! MIGHT!?” Connie exclaimed, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He really didn’t want to lose his job, after all, “You have no idea what you just did to me. What your very presence has ruined!”

Connie took a step forward, to which Edd stepped back.

“You...you wouldn’t…” Edd was scared, and so was Mason and Eduardo. They were happy they weren’t the ones at the receiving end, sure, but Eduardo had never seen Connie this mad. Neither had Mason. Well, once Mason had seen worse, but that doesn’t matter right now.

Connie realises what was happening and took a step back, while Edd reluctantly and tentatively took a step forward.

“You were right.” Connie finally said

“About what?” Edd squinted his eyes and tilted his head

“Not you!” Connie said, not too loudly, and pointed to Eduardo, “He was right. You are really f*cking annoying. And now you’re off the case.”

“Haha, yes!” Eduardo cheered, a bit too quickly perhaps, “Take that, Edd! Who’s second place no-”

“You to.” Connie glared at Eduardo’s stupid words

“Wha, what?” Eduardo said, as Edd laughed and pointed. The bastard. Eduardo thought, not very nicely

“Both of you get out of my office. Now.” Connie walked toward his desk and sat down, reading over some other case file

As the two male exited the room, the light green one spoke up.

“We can’t let Alastor get away with this just because he has money and a title!” Edd turned to Eduardo with newfound determination

“Are you saying you want to work with me? Like, by choice?” Eduardo looked disgusted at the notion of spending more time with him

“You got into this business for a reason, right? To put bad guys in jail! Are you really just going to let a murderer get away with murder just because I annoy you a little?” Edd’s stare challenged a rebuttal

“Well…” Eduardo still didn’t like the idea, “Do you have any proof that he’s the guy?”

“Um…” Edd looked to the side and rubbed his neck, “No, but that doesn’t matter. He’s OBVIOUSLY the guy. Have you looked at him?”

Eduardo sighs. “Look…” He trails off and thinks, “I guess I could help you. As long as you stay out of my way!”

“Fine, fine,” Edd settles, “Now we just need to get some evidence on him. Where did he say he was going?”

“Well, I remember hearing Altan say he wanted to go to the mall or something. Maybe we should go there?”

“Yeah! Let’s roll!”

~~~

“Okay, so, we have to find Altan, because where there’s Altan, there’s Alastor.” Edd narrates, making my job much easier, “If I was a son of a meanie beanie, where would I go?”

“Um, hell, for saying ‘meanie beanie’, and not j*ck*ss or something.” Eduardo commented, rolling his eyes, “Like, he might have killed someone, he didn’t steal your crayon on the playground for f*cks sake.”

“Wait, why’s the kid going to hell? He didn’t say anything.” Edd replied

“Um…” Eduardo thought, “You know what I mean!”

They walked for quite a time, talking about stupid things and having petty arguments. They did only that for almost an hour.

“Well, I think we should go back now.” Eduardo suggested

“What? Why?” Edd asked, “We haven’t even found anything yet.”

“Exactly! When do you think we’re going to, huh? If anyone finds us here we’ll be screwed! We’re not supposed to be on this case anymore!”

“Then we aren’t.” Edd said simply

“Wait...really?” Eduardo was surprised by how easy that was, “Wow, uh-”

“Yup. We’re just two guys at the mall together. And if we happen to see something incriminating then it’s just coincidence.” Edd said smugly

“No one will believe-” Eduardo was cut off by Edd shoving him behind a wall. “What the-!”

“Shh!” Edd whispered, as he peeked his head out from behind the wall, “It’s them.”

“What are they doing?” Eduardo asked, still mad and a little bruised but alright

“Alastor’s walking and holding Altan’s hand. He’s pulling a shopping cart with him and is walking kinda funny. He’s now looking at a dress I think, and Alastor is pulling him away. Why did Altan look at a dress?”

“Maybe he thought his girlfriend would like it, or it could have reminded him of something that his dead mom might’ve owned. Just keep narrating.” Eduardo sounded annoyed

“Fine! Alastor is...looking right at us. F*ck.” Edd exclaimed, “Run away!”

Edd elbowed Eduardo in the stomach as Alastor ran towards their hiding place.

“F*ck you!” Eduardo yelled, and started to run because Alastor and Altan were running after them

Edd jumped swiftly over obstacles while Eduardo bumped into almost all of them, but they both somehow kept a good space between them. Eventually, though, they got cornered between a baskin robbins and a weight-watchers.

“Oh no. We’re cornered. What now?” Edd turned to Eduardo

“How should I know? You’re the one who got us into this mess!” Eduardo countered

“Well, well, well.” Alastor huffed. He had finally got them, even if he was a little tired

“Yeah.” Altan weezed out. He was not used to running and was so tired

“You realise this only incriminates you more.” Edd exclaimed, “When the witnesses testify against you and say you were hunting us down, what will you say?”

“Oh, I’ll probably just ask why they’re wasting my time,” Alastor started, “because they are no witnesses!” He waved his arms around where he was standing, and he was right. There was no one around for miles. Or at least, a few stores.

Edd gulped, and Eduardo closed his eyes, knowing the worst had yet to happen.

~~

“You did what!?” Connie shot up from his chair and glared at the two of them, “You f*ckers are a disgrace!”

“That’s a bit mu-”

“Shut it, Mason!” Connie yelled as Mason cowered, and Connie turned back to the two culprits, “Now, you two must be really f*cking dense to have such insubordinate behavior! I’ve had it up to here with you two!” Connie put his hand a little bit above his head to emphasize his point.

“It was Edd’s idea!” Eduardo pointed at Edd

“Way to take one for the team!” Edd accused

“Oh, how dare you! You have no idea-”

“I have no idea?! Do you even-”

Connie had already decided as he rubbed his temples with his finger and thumb. Then, in an oddly calm voice, said this:

“You’re both fired.”

All sound stopped there. Eduardo turned pale and looked sick, like everything had just begun to fall apart for him. Edd looked shocked more than anything else. Maybe Connie was bluffing. He had to be, right? I mean, Edd being the best employee, why would they fire him? They could never find someone better at his job than him, right?

Right?

“Get out of my office before I call security. Now.” The calmness of his voice still discombobulating, the two men walked out of the office.

Eduardo went to clean out his old work desk while Edd decided to walk around. To say goodbye.

As he did so, he passed by Mason, who was doing something by their computer.

“What are you doing?” Edd asked, as if something in his head had finally started turning

“Oh, yeah, I’m practicing color theories. Turns out the lady who got killed...well, I forgot the title, but she’s the one who makes the colors on the TVs. I looked up how to do that and this thing showed up. I thought it was pretty interesting how it all worked. Why?” Mason asked, not taking their eyes off the screen

“But when you move the mouse around, those numbers on the bottom... they change.” Edd asked, the turning that was happening faster, picking up speed, was the realization of what happened.

He had solved the case.

~

“Eduardo!” Edd exclaimed, a stern yet celebratory expression on his face, ran up to said man and hugged him

“Hey, hey!” Eduardo pushed the man off, blinking and looking just generally confused, “What’s wrong with you?” He looked him up and down until he got to his face. He knew that expression.

A sad sigh, which was not what Edd had been expecting, came out of Eduardo.

“You solved the case.” Eduardo said, in a tone that was hard to determine if it was angry or sad or anything

“Um-” Edd was interrupted, but at the moment he didn’t care

“That’s great, man.” Eduardo turned his head. Edd just noticed the piles and piles of papers on his desk, “I’m really happy for you.”

Stunned by the lack of jealousy or anger in the other man’s voice, Edd speaks again.

“Are you...okay?”

“Yep. Perfect as always. The best. Number one. Amazing.” Eduardo sighs again, and tilts his head downwards. Edd pulls up a chair and puts his hand on the man’s back, trying to comfort him. Eduardo flinched very noticeably at the touch, and looks around the office to see if there’s anyone else who could see this. No one. His eyes linger on a picture of a dyed-blue haired female, smiling brightly. And he sighs again.

“Who’s that?” Eduardo flinches again, as if looking at that photo made him forget the world around him.

“No one. Not anymore.” He picks up the photo and takes it out of frame, presumably to rip it. But his hands start shaking, and he can’t bring himself to do it. He puts his hands on the table and hangs his head even lower. Edd hears a soft hiccup.

“Eduardo, are you crying?” Edd asks, knowing he almost certainly won’t get an answer

Another hiccup. “No…” Eduardo quickly turns and hugs the man tightly, sobbing into his ear, mumbling things like ‘I loved her’, ‘I’m such a bad person’.

“It’s...okay…” Edd says, still confused as to what’s going on

After a little while Eduardo pulls away.

“Eduardo, wha-”

“Don’t ask me what happened.”

“Uh-”

“ Don’t ask me why she left, or why I cried. Don’t ask me why I needed to be better than you, and still do, or why I have no friends I don’t hurt. Just, please, don’t say anything.” Eduardo rubs his eyes, and Edd notices how dark the circles there are.

“I…” Edd really didn’t want to to see Eduardo cry again, but he still wanted to tell him what he found out. “Do you still wanna know what I found out?”

“...Sure. Just don’t look at me while you talk.” Edd turns his chair so that he couldn’t see Eduardo anymore.

“It happened like this; Altan had finally gathered up the courage to tell their parents that their little boy was - get this - a little girl! She’s a transgirl! Remember when we saw her and Alastor at the mall and she was staring at the dresses, and you said ‘maybe for his girlfriend, come on, we have a job to do you clod’? He was staring at the dresses because he wanted to wear one!”

“That isn’t exactly what I said, but go on. And how did you even find out she was transgender?”

“I’m getting there. When she told them, she had an idea about how her parents would react, but she thought maybe since she was their child, they’d be willing to listen. They weren’t.”

“Of course.”

“They got into a struggle. She didn’t want to hurt her parents, but she had to fight back. It must’ve gotten pretty intense, maybe they were strangling her, and her hands must’ve looked for anything to fight back with. Her hands found a pair of scissors and she slammed them in as hard as she could.

“And the phone call to the police station was made by her, too. She wanted to confess. But her father had different plans. He didn’t want to be seen as a child abuser, and go to jail to, so he forced her to keep quiet. I don’t know exactly what happened next, maybe a bribe, though probably not, maybe blackmail, we might never know for sure. All we do know is that she was being forced to stay quiet.”

“You still haven’t told me how you knew she was a girl.”

“Oh yeah! When she knew that she couldn’t speak about it, she decided to give the printer commands to print out to colors of the transgender flag, to let us know who did it. But in her distress, she forgot it was a black-and-white only printer. We couldn’t understand a thing. Only when I saw Mason messing around with a hex-color-chart thingy did I put all the pieces together.”

“Wow...good...good job.”

“I know, let’s go tell Connie what happened.”

“You should...never call The Captain by his name. He’ll get super pissed.”

“Yeah, why’s he mad all the time?” Edd asked, tilting his head

“Don’t know, don’t care, we have to warn the Captain and Lieutenant before we begin dissecting the man’s brain.” He grabbed his coat and stood up, Edd did the same, “Let’s go.”

~

“Con-Captain!” Edd quickly corrected himself, “We figured out who did it!”

“Great! Which one of you?” The Lieutenant grabbed his notepad

“Umm…” Edd and Eduardo both look at each other

“He-” Eduardo begins

“We both figured it out. Together!” Edd exclaimed, Eduardo smiling a little

“Really?” The Captain began sceptically

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. The kiddo already called and confessed a few minutes ago. We have her in one of the interrogation rooms right now, actually. Not being interrogated, though, just calming down. She had a panic attack over the phone when her father walked in on her calling.” The Lieutenant then adds with a slight smirk, “We also have her dad in another interrogation room. His is...not so calm.”

A few seconds pass.

“Ah, speak of the devil!” Eduardo says, crossing his arms as the father comes walking out, a police man named Mark reading him his rights. Soon, the kid comes out too.

“Sorry about what I did. Really, I feel terrible about…” She can barely choke out the words, “killing her. I just got angry, and-”

“It’s okay, kid.” The Lieutenant smiles sweetly, with a profound look of understanding

The Captain rubs his neck and looks to the side.

“Look, kid, you don’t really...deserve to go to prison. Maybe we can try and shorten the sentence, or put you on parole, or-”

“No, no, I did a bad thing, and I’d like to repent for it. I only want one thing.” The girl said

“And what’s that?” Edd asked, already sensing where this was going

“A dress.”

~Fin

{I’m gonna make more of these fanfictions, so make sure to follow me!}

[msterofnone-blog]

jack rider ; intro, stats, verses & connections

JACK RIDER looks an awful lot like ALEX TURNER. HE/HIM are/is TWENTY NINE and while they’re FRIENDLY, they have a tendency to get pretty UNMOTIVATED. You’ve probably seen them around Kola listening to HAND IN GLOVE by THE SMITHS.

- first of all; no matter who you are or what you want, jack rider doesn’t give a shit

- he will act friendly to everybody around him & is well known, but not well liked, more feared; everybody knows that he talks shit about them behind their backs as soon as they walk away

- he was born in manchester, england & his family moved to kola when he was 10; his mother had dreams (delusions) of making it big in hollywood, and was always distant from him, and when her plans didn’t work out, she grew more and more detached from the family. they had to stay as his dad, the realist, had set up his own repair shop to sustain them - his parents stayed together but his dad worked himself to the point of exhaustion whilst his mother would sit by the window every day, unspeaking; they passed away with a month of one another when jack was 18

- he’s a mechanic in kola & fixes cars just as his dad did (i had the greaser thing planned before the greaser anon & now i feel bad) so again he comes into contact with a lot of people - this business progressed into something more as he got older

- working with cars, his first foray into the criminal world was as a getaway driver (baby driver anyone?) but he was about 18 and still pretty new, but he wanted to be something more than his dad had been so he stuck with it and made his way up through the ranks

- he now works with the gang he was first involved with in dealing through his repair shop, but its more of an open secret

- at 29, he should be getting a little restless about his future but he’s never looked to settle down, and will loudly (obnoxiously) pronounce that love does not exist - at least not for men like him

FULL NAME: jack rider PRONUNCIATION: ja-c rye-der MEANING: any man REASONING: not the type of parents to think too deeply about his name rly NICKNAME(S): ponyboy (ANYONE) PREFERRED NAME(S): jack BIRTH DATE: november 2nd 1989 AGE: 29 ZODIAC: scorpio  GENDER: male PRONOUNS: he/him ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: panromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual NATIONALITY: british ETHNICITY: white british CURRENT LOCATION: kola, california LIVING CONDITIONS: lives above his repair shop in an outdated flat; really only uses it to sleep in & takes no pride in looking after it

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: manchester royal infirmary, manchester, england  HOMETOWN: machester, england  SOCIAL CLASS: lower EDUCATION LEVEL: finished high school FATHER: paul rider MOTHER: flora rider SIBLING(S): n/a CHILDREN: n/a PET(S): n/a  OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: n/a PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: never ever one to commit so has never had anything serious  ARRESTS?: countless  PRISON TIME?: 6 months

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: fixing cars  SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: dealing  APPROXIMATE AMOUNT PER YEAR: $30k CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: he’s convinced himself he is & has become somewhat of a self fulfilling prophecy - he used to dream of being a writer when he was much much younger & breaking out of the cycle of the men in his family; it didn’t happen PAST JOB(S): always been an apprentice to his father, who also fixed cars SPENDING HABITS: too much on cigarettes, not on the essentials  MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: his chevrolet 

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: fairly strong INTELLIGENCE: used to read a lot but hasn’t in over 10 years, a mediocre writer who never got the chance to improve  TALENTS: very good mechanic   SHORTCOMINGS: anything with numbers - he always works things out by eye  LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english DRIVE?: yes JUMP-STAR A CAR?: yes CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: yes RIDE A BICYCLE?: no SWIM?: yes PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: barely plays guitar  PLAY CHESS?: no BRAID HAIR?: yes - used to braid his mothers hair  TIE A TIE?: yes PICK A LOCK?: yes

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: alex turner  EYE COLOR: brown HAIR COLOR: brown HAIR TYPE/STYLE: greased back always  GLASSES/CONTACTS?: nope  DOMINANT HAND: right  HEIGHT: 5′8″ WEIGHT: 156 lbs EXERCISE HABITS: lifting heavy weights when he works on cars but that’s about it SKIN TONE: on the paler side TATTOOS: 3 PEIRCINGS: one ear MARKS/SCARS: a scar on his shoulder from an ‘accident at work’ NOTABLE FEATURES: he use looks a bit mean most of the time really USUAL EXPRESSION: looking mean CLOTHING STYLE: old style greaser - the same as his father JEWELRY: rings when he’s not working & a watch ALLERGIES: n/a DIET: baD PHYSICAL AILMENTS: n/a

PSYCHOLOGY

JUNG TYPE: entj MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral TEMPERAMENT: sanguine ELEMENT: fire APPROXIMATE IQ: 95 MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: n/a OBSESSION(S): appearing unbothered by everything COMPULSION(S): checking his hair PHOBIA(S): relationships??? honestly  ADDICTION(S): smoking DRUG USE: he deals but won’t do anything he deals ALCOHOL USE: too much PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: too much 

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: a bit too loud and cocky  ACCENT: manchester  HOBBIES: trying in his very little spare time to play guitar but not telling anybody HABITS: smoking NERVOUS TICKS: his foot starts tapping DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: not many at all; lives day to day FEARS: being alone with himself  POSITIVE TRAITS:  funny, friendly & loyal NEGATIVE TRAITS: violent, closed-off emotionally & judgemental  SENSE OF HUMOR: he’s funny ngl DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: yeah CATCHPHRASE(S): ‘jack of all trades’

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: working on cars ANIMAL: dogs BEVERAGE: whiskey  BOOK: to kill a mockingbird - harper lee CELEBRITY: mick jagger COLOR: black DESIGNER: he ain’t got a clue FOOD: bacon sandwiches  FLOWER: orchids GEM: ruby HOLIDAY:  he gets the most business (wink wink) around new year MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: ...cars MOVIE: the outsiders  MUSICAL ARTIST: the clash QUOTE/SAYING: ‘stay gold’  SCENERY: countryside SCENT: cinnamon  SPORT: football SPORTS TEAM: manchester united  TELEVISION SHOW: black mirror  WEATHER: rain VACATION DESTINATION: back home to britain

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: he has none )-: it was to write & escape what seemed to be laid out for him... it didn’t happen GREATEST FEAR: being forgotten about MOST AT EASE WHEN: working in his shop LEAST AT EASE WHEN: by himself WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: he lost his shop BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: fixing up a car on his own for his dad BIGGEST REGRET: not getting his mother to engage with him - not trying harder to MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: throwing a screwdriver at who he thought was his friend... it wasn’t... hospital happened BIGGEST SECRET: that he used to want to write  TOP PRIORITIES: making money 

&. VERSES

none yet!! working on it

&. WANTED CONNECTIONS

ROMANTIC.

i wanna be yours - jack fiercely disbelieves in love, and this person makes him question this long held belief (partners in crime)

leave before the lights come on - somebody jack’s being seeing for months, unwittingly (or perhaps wittingly) leading them on without seeing it as anything near serious

bigger boys & stolen sweethearts - the two used to play make believe together when they were young before one of them moved away - they’d made a pact to marry one another at 6 years old & now jack ( the love non-believer remember ) has been invited to their wedding

PLATONIC.

red light indicates doors are secure - somebody else in the same gang as jack; they’re close & watch each others backs

only ones who know - somebody who often visits his repair shop & their company & conversation lets him escape to normalcy for a few hours a week ( could become romantic!! )

fake tales of san francisco - jack finished high school but only just & has forgotten his love for words - somebody smart stumbles into his life and helps him reignite his interest ( in private, of course ) 

ENEMIES.

dangerous animals - member/s of rival gang/s cos we been knew my boy likes to fight

do me a favour - an ex from a very turbulent relationship whom jack probably hurt very badly & left without much of a thought 

&. FILLED CONNECTIONS

ROMANTIC.

none!!

PLATONIC.

none!!

ENEMIES.

none!!

[helloaymawkward]

Ghost of Future Past

“So, it’s your last day here?” I asked the senior lab tech training me for the day. I asked myself as well, for the umpteenth time.

I’ve been contemplating on handing out my resignation letter since the first week of my first “real-world” job. How unappreciative, right? I should at least endure a year!

Well, that was my plan even while I was still an intern. When my ghost of future past would haunt me, I would remind myself to:

Experience the actual med tech life, save up, and maybe love the job on the process! Plus, almost everyone who knows about my dual citizenship, says I’m so lucky to have an easy path to their ideal job. I would just be like that exemplar alumni who now lives the American dream life.

The American Dream life was my new aspiration. The former one was "to become (ehem) a NeUroSurGeon" when people asked the ultimate question after high school. The younger me - who didn't know her limitations yet - thought operating on brains would not only make me rich, it would also make me cool.

Why not? I was a salutatorian. I could do anything! 

Being a neurosurgeon was the best field I could think of that is related to my interest.

I was (and more so am!) very fascinated by a person's values, morals, emotions, and way of thinking. I thought all of which has a common denominator: the mind, the human brain. I took up the supposed best pre-med because I was for sure taking the straight path of studying brains as med subspecialty. 

However, after being placed in environments where I was not always at the top, and often at the bottom instead, I somehow had let go of the Neurosurgeon “dream”. 

 It turns out that I can do anything, but not everything.

(Click Video Link below to see if how I would be if I were a doctor.)

https://streamable.com/0ly3pn

I seriously considered shifting to Psychology at the end of my third year. I even consulted the college’s guidance counselor (which was of no help because they only cared about students who are suicidal or, with absolute failing grades). There were days I balled my eyes out because my study table was far more interesting than the lessons I had to master.

I hated myself for changing so much. I thought that my prudent high school self would be more suited for my college life. She was studious and focused. She knew her priorities. She seemed wiser too.

She once said on her salutatory speech that “This stage is our port, and our diplomas are passports to our respective life destinations.”

With those flowery words, one would think so. But I realized then that my high school self was also none the wiser.

For her, life’s destination were stability and success. She only knew she needed to escape. So, she bought the ticket for the number one tourist spot for premeds. She didn’t care if she barely heard about her first stop; wrote Bachelor of Science in Laboratory Medical Science instead of Medical Laboratory Science on her enrollment form. (I applied originally and got accepted for Psychology. I only had a full spell out of the course during enrollment hehehe)

Apparently, I bought the wrong ticket. Still, I endured my premed major. I was already in it. I didn’t want to waste the money, time, and effort I invested for the past 2 and a half years.

It helped that my mom’s mantra “You can do it! Ikaw pa! Fake it ‘till you make it!”, my aunt’s “Your problems are nothing compared to what we’ve been through.” and my grandma’s “Quitting is hopelessness, and hopelessness is the devil’s work. You just need to pray more.” were constant reminders that made my ghost hide somewhere in my subconscious.

Plus, finishing one more year of my bachelors, find a good job as soon as I can, and finally be an independent and professional adult sounded more ideal than “spending more time in school.” 

To become one less mouth to be fed from the many who are so dependent on my mom (and in turn equals dad), to be able to give back to my parents (who I feel so indebted for since I'm not exactly my step dad's responsibility), and to my Mama Lola as soon as I can was a better motivation than “I want to help better people’s lives.”

I didn’t know I was a Gang Tae. The loved ones I look up to are Gang Taes. In turn I became one. My motivations were worthy of what I presumed was a (for the lack of better words) heroic sacrifice.

I wanted to take my Mama Lola away from our seemingly perpetual suffering that close-knit Filipino family seem to excel at.

I was afraid to be stuck or get swept by my current circumstance. I still worried for my past, that the changes that lead to the present weren’t genuine, and people would eventually fall back to their old habits – their unchanged selves. Most specially, I feared becoming just like them.

I had to be independent as soon as I can.

AS SOON AS I CAN.

Now some parts of Soon has come:

·        finish my bachelors

·        get a good job

Parts of Soon that hasn't come, yet:

o   Becoming an independent adult (I still live with my parents, and they I still provided for my meals. Heck, my dad still even drops and picks me to and from work!)

o   Take my Mama-lola away from her stressful sons by encouraging her to go here in the US (I know she'd be more comfortable when I'm with her in a country where she repeatedly described her life would be as FOREIGN, LONELY, and ISOLATED.)

o   When worse comes to worst, be financially stable enough that no matter how messed-up my family and extended family may become, I will be able to survive on my own without bother.

You see though, after I checked the first two, my ghost of future past kept knocking on me; keeps knocking on me...

Particularly when internet algorithm keeps suggesting personality and career tests with results that exactly fits (and unbeknownst to many) what I truly value , and shows me this quote:

 Or Vlogs like: (watch whole vid at the end of the post.)

And this Ted Talk: 

My mom asked me several times, “What's your plan? Don't you want to grow?” When I was still applying for jobs.

I had different a answer. But if I were to say what I truly felt I would reply:

"Yes, this is part of the plan. But I don't know if I'll grow here - if I even want to grow. This plan is a practical and quick sacrifice. I'm just following it. Not pursuing it. Of course! I want to grow! *pun intended* but not on this career path."

Hence, my ungrateful thoughts of burning my first bridge even if I barely started building it. I really thought I’d learn to love it when I start living it, specially if it’s the “ideal life”.

Apparently, like the words affect and effect, “The Ideal” and “The Fulfilled” - what’s “interesting” versus what’s “valuable” - are often confused. This most specially occurs when one’s justifications root from fear (or need to escape) and envy (or envisioning someone else’s exemplar life.)

 “Fake it till you make it.”

 “A shallower problem…”

 “Quitting is hopelessness…”

 “You’re so lucky, you’ll just become like her..”

 “As soon as I can!”

 These are the words that make me treat what I find valuable, as something that I should fear. I try to ignore it, but my mind conjures almost everything I see, or that happens as a sign – as its face, as my ghost.

My coworker training me (among all four trainees) on her last day, and finding out that after 30 years in our laboratory she is still transferring to the company she first wanted to work for, is another face of my ghost.

A ghost telling me that, no matter how far I’ll make it, if I faked my way, in the end I’ll still long for what I truly value.

That my dilemma isn’t shallow. I am aware of my privileges. I may have it better than others, but it doesn’t mean what I seek is invalid.

That quitting,  or changing a path isn’t hopelessness, or laziness. Sometimes, it’s the most unexpected detour I didn’t think I need. 

Above all, it won’t make me the kind of person who is among my greatest fear of becoming. (More of this on another story.)

That I don’t want to become “just like her.” I am grateful, and I am indebted to what others call as “luck.”

Nevertheless, I want to become the person I wished I had when my mom was still a mess. I want to be the guide that my younger cousins, and other neglected children and young adults can confide to and can listen to. I want to be the person whom adults can trust and lean on as if they were children, so they can become better adults. I want to be the mentor I wish I had in school, and I wish to have in life.

That I should stop thinking “As soon as I can!” Because, I am not delayed. I should not be in a rush. I don’t need to be my or society’s “ideal”. Whatever I decide to do, it is best to be done at the present since it’ll only fundamentally affect me (unlike when I’ll act on it if I have children, or debts.)

Or am I getting ahead of myself again? Am I putting meaning into nothing? How can I find work that is related to what I value, especially during a pandemic? Should I hand in my resignation?

I ask myself these as I try to conclude this blog (Again! I thought I arrived at a conclusion yesterday), on an unexpected day off because dad’s car suddenly died last night (for the first time since they got it, and as I was waiting for another sign), while eyeing Viktor Frankl’s “Man’s Search For Meaning” (the book just got delivered this afternoon.)

  ***Originally written on: 08/17/2020***

[pleaseburnthisblogafterreading]

EPIC RAP BATTLES OF VILLAINOUS

(this is literally the worst thing i’ve ever written, but it’s so funny and heck, i love @infiniteslug / @brokevillainous that I could NOT pass up writing another story for them. So... yeah. Introducing the story, Epic Rap Battles of Villainous. Enjoy, my VIBs)

Broke Hat was quite upset at what Demencia had made him do.

Of course, he wasn’t surprised by the fact that Demencia had run away in the middle of the night to go and join one of… ugh, Party Hat’s raves. She was exactly the kind of demographic that they would invite: a young, attractive woman just looking for some fun. Ew, even the thought of those words disgusted him, and a dark grimace fell over his face. He would’ve loved to end the party with a little surprise, but this stupid inhibitor that Flug insisted he wear at all times kept him from fulfilling his dreams of stopping the parties once and for all. And besides, Flug would most likely frown upon it, anyway. Stupid mortal, and his stupid morality and ethics.

“One person. At least,” he had asked, even though he shouldn’t have been pleading with someone as insignificant as… Well, not insignificant anymore, he supposed. It was right in the name, significant other. However, he was still the superior, still the dominant, still Black Hat!

“No. I already told you once, and I won’t tell you again. You cannot murder anyone tonight,” Flug had said, grabbing a windbreaker that he had bought from the local Goodwill with some of the extra tips he had received. It was even in the style of a bomber jacket, which to be honest, Flug thought was amazing. Anything having to do with airplanes and flight was always a plus side, and it even had little patches on it. Demencia had made fun of him for loving it so much, but he couldn’t care less. It was a small comfort in this unforgiving world, and he wasn’t going to give it up just because some people didn’t appreciate it as much as he did. However, what he could care less about, though shouldn’t, was still staring at him with a grimace, Broke Hat’s version of puppy dog eyes. Flug sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Look, we have to keep a low profile,” he continued, grabbing an extra paper bag and some goggles to conceal his identity from the rest of the world. Broke Hat scoffed at that, crossing his arms and cocking an eyebrow, jutting out a hip. “And you’re going to keep a low profile with a paper bag on your head and goggles? Ha, don’t make me laugh.” he said, pulling off a rather sassy pose for an eldritch abomination that took over the world twice and only gave it back because he was bored.

Flug opened his mouth to argue, before hesitating. He was a scientist. He had not one, not two, but four Ph.D.s, and he couldn’t even come up with a clever retort to his monster boyfriend? Unacceptable. He shut his mouth, though, and just motioned for him to follow. Broke Hat growled at that, narrowing his eyes as he reluctantly followed his boyfriend out of the apartment. “Why do I have to come, anyway,” he asked, annoyance clear in his voice. “Why can’t I just stay at home? We did get that lovely gift of Dreamworks movies, and I would hate to see them go to waste.”

Flug had to take a deep breath to not lose his mind at that. He had worked an eight hour shift that day, only getting one, count that ONE fifteen minute break, spending the rest of that time on his feet getting harassed by upset customers, only to find that Broke Hat had just allowed Demencia to run off and join what may well be a circus because he was too busy watching the fucking Bee Movie?! Not even with little notice, she explicitly said she was going “out,” whilst forcing a huge sum of cash into her purse, and Broke had just let her leave?!

“It was engrossing, and disgusting and pitiful, and whoever this Seinfeld human is should be ashamed,” he had said when explaining what had happened before Flug had gotten home, holding up the box the movie came in, before a slow realization washed over his face. “Bee… Movie… Oh my Satan it’s because they’re bees, isn’t it?”

Flug face palmed.

It wasn’t even a full copy, it was a bootleg someone had recorded while they were in the theaters! Why someone in their right mind would still have a bootleg copy of The Bee Movie ten years later was a mystery to him, and one that he was not willing to solve. Ever. He wondered if the rest of the movies they had received were also bootlegs, but he wasn’t willing to figure that out, either. They had a mission to accomplish, and whether they wanted to or not, it was getting done.

“Because you lost her, and she’s your friend,” Flug said, opening the door to let the other out. Broke Hat followed, grumbling something under his breath. “Friend is a strong term,” he muttered like the petulant child he was, stomping out of the apartment in a huff before kicking at a can that lay in the middle of the hallway. Luckily, nobody seemed to notice the noise, even though it was twelve in the morning, but if Broke kept this behavior up, they’d definitely get an eviction notice sooner, rather than later. “And I did not lose her. I simply misplaced her,” he continued, waving his hand dismissively as if he hadn’t lost a human being with fucking lizard powers.

Luckily, since they lived in the middle of a bustling city, it wasn’t too hard to find transportation at this time of night. However, that did not stop Broke Hat from grumbling the entire way to the bus stop about how he had bigger fish to fry, more irons in the fire, and just really, really didn’t want to go to Party Hat’s house. “Well, I don’t want to go either, but look where we are. We’ve lost our only other means of income, plus my entire tip jar, and if I have to take a day off or something, it’s not going to be good for any of us. Maybe if someone hadn’t been so busy, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

That shut Broke up.

The rest of the trip was made in relative silence. Flug was just sitting there, hands in his pocket with his head down and trying not to fume, but failing miserably, while Broke Hat just looked out the window, wondering how something so awful, so heinous, could be made by a human being. He would need to find more information on this crime against the universe when he got home, but for now, his analysis of the film would have to do.

“Flug.”

“What is it?”

“Have you… Have you ever seen the movie? The movie I showed you?”

Flug let out a sigh, putting an arm over his face as he leaned back even further. He did not need this in his life right now. “Yes, Broke. I’ve seen the Bee Movie starring Jerry Seinfeld, made in 2007. Why do you ask?” He glanced at Broke Hat.

“Why? Why is it so awful,” the other, his other, asked, narrowed eye laced with confusion. “How could humans think it was such a good idea to make a bee and a human fall in love? Isn’t that bestiality?”

“Beestiality,” Flug muttered under his breath, crossing his arms as he tried to avoid the conversation, before realizing what he had said.

Broke Hat seemed to have caught the pun before Flug could take it back, and stared at him as if he had just said, or even thought, of a verse from the Holy Bible. “What did you just say,” Broke Hat asked, eye as wide as a saucer. “Can you repeat that?”

“It was nothing, and this conversation is over.”

“Flug-” “OVER!”

They sat in a bit more silence after that, until the sound of blaring music could be heard, and the two men groaned, slumping back in their seats. Electronic dance music? And, for Broke Hat anyway, the smell of sweat and glow sticks? It could only mean one thing: Their stop was coming soon. And sure enough, on the sidewalk, over the top of the hill, lights could be seen flashing into the sky, as the music got louder and louder, coming to a crescendo when they finally reached the top.

There sat the weirdest looking house Flug had ever seen, and that was really saying something, considering his previous workplace had been a giant top hat with six floors, over sixty different rooms that shifted from location to location at random intervals, and an airplane crashed into the side of it. Sure, that last part may have been his fault, but it was still strange that nobody thought to clean it up. Broke Hat was usually a stickler for making sure everything was perfect, especially anything that was associated with him, so it was a wonder that it was still there, even to this day.

That didn’t matter right now, though. What mattered was getting Flug’s entire tip jar back, even if it meant travelling to the pits of Hell itself to do so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The first thing Flug noticed was that Jesus Christ, the music was loud. And not just loud like a rock concert, loud to the point that it was near deafening. And they were only outside! How anyone could survive being in there twenty four seven was a mystery to the both of them. This was probably why that DJ Glug guy only spoke in sign language most of the time. Flug wondered if they had ever actually heard him say anything, but couldn’t think of a time where that had actually happened.

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME,” Broke Hat shouted over the music, Flug shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts. Broke Hat took this as a no.

“Goddammit, Flug! How are we going to get back our idiot if you won’t even pay attention?! I will repeat myself one more time, and only one, so you better be paying attention or else!” Flug knew he didn’t mean the insult, or the threat, but still nodded and went along with it. It was Broke Hat’s only way of showing much emotion around other people, his only solace in life, and Flug wasn’t going to try to take it away from him. It would be like taking a security blanket from a baby. A large, demonic, aggressive baby.

“We go in, right? I start going after people, while you… You do whatever. I couldn’t care less, really.” Broke Hat made a dismissive hand motion.

“We’re not doing that,” Flug said, head in his hands as the music pierced his eardrums. He really wished he had salvaged the noise cancelling headphones he had kept in the lab during long days where Demencia would do nothing but play her guitar, and Black Hat was nowhere to be seen. Those days were long gone, sure, but the thought of having those cushiony pillows for your ears was one that he didn’t want to pass up. Back to the topic at hand, though. He thought for a second, placing a hand on his chin, before coming up with an idea that just might work. “How about we both sneak in, find Demencia, and sneak back out before anyone can notice us.”

Broke Hat pondered the plan for a few seconds, rubbing his temples before letting out a reluctant sigh. “Fine. But I’m not following this plan because I want to. Only because it seems smart enough,” he said with a grimace, crossing his arms and pouting. Flug rolled his eyes with a soft smile, before wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close.

“I know you’re worried about Demencia.”

“I’m not.”

“And I know how much you want her back.”

“I really don’t.”

“But we’re going to get her, and it won’t be that much of a hassle,” Flug finished, giving Broke Hat a quick peck on the cheek. This caused Broke to stand up and stomp towards the upside down top hat that acted as the main base of operations for Party Hat.

The thing that hit them hardest when they entered the building, for Flug, was the sound. He couldn’t even hear his own thoughts in here, let alone anything that the other man was saying. Luckily for him, Broke Hat wasn’t actually speaking. He was much too focused on the smell of the place: it reeked of half drunk glow sticks, sugar, vodka, and sweat, and the combination of the smells just made him want to puke up all of his internal organs, necessary or otherwise.

He forced himself to refrain, though. Knowing Party Hat, if he caught even the slightest whiff of either of them, it would not be good for anybody. Especially not Broke. He didn’t want to deal with that child he was forced to call his brother. He just needed to get Demencia, make sure all of the money was accounted for, and skedaddle befor-

A raised hand signalled for the music to cease, and the duo froze, all eyes on the both of them as a spotlight shone down on them, before a voice, effeminate and rather sassy sounding, rang through the crowd. “Why, what a pleasant, but unexpected surprise~!”

Dammit!

Broke Hat let a growl escape his lips, while Flug just stood stock still, arms firmly at his side and hands balled into fists. They just needed to grab Demencia, and get out. Maybe it would be easy! All they had to do was ask for Demencia back, and then they left, and never came back. Of course, Demencia would be grounded as soon as they got back, but he wasn’t going to let her go out after all the shit she was putting them through.

A dark gray skinned being slowly floated down from the ceiling, laying on his stomach upon a red silk padded bed held up by nothing, propelled by nothing, purple suit glowing under the blacklight of the house along with the neon green ribbon that decorated his hat. Seriously, did they have any other sort of lighting? And besides, Flug had a strong feeling that being surrounded by blacklight all the time was probably bad for you in so many ways, but he wasn’t thinking about that right now. Science and the like could wait. Right now, what they needed was diplomacy, and to keep Broke Hat from trying to murder everyone in a fifty foot radius.

The demon known as Party Hat soon flipped onto his back, so he could jump off the bed and float gracefully to the ground at the other end of the room, surprisingly stable for someone who was wearing platform heels, before taking the microphone from the hands of DJ Glug with a flourish. “I see we have two VIB’s tonight! Can we all give them a round of applause?”

“VIB’s,” Flug asked before he could stop himself, immediately regretting his decision when a bunch of giant screens descended from the ceiling, displaying white impact font on a background of pictures of their faces, some horribly photoshopped so they were in the same room and smiling at the same time, and each word separated by an explosion or some other stupid special effect.

VERY IMPORTANT BITCHES

That addition of the screens was met with applause and whooping from all of the visitors in attendance, much to the chagrin of Broke Hat and company, Flug looking in horrified embarrassment at said screens while Broke Hat just glared at his cousin, who was of course cackling whilst he float on his back. “Look, you have my idiot, and I would very much appreciate if you would give her back,” Broke Hat snarled, before Flug could stop him. However, Flug did manage to calm him slightly by taking his hand into his own, the effect being mutual for both parties.

“What he means to say,” Flug said, voice cracking before he cleared his throat. At least someone was trying to keep some form of peace between the two cousins, Broke Hat glaring at Party Hat, while Party Hat and DJ Glug just looked amused. “What we mean, is that we believe that one of our friends-”

“I believe the term is acquaintance, Flug,” Broke rasped, but squeezed the other’s hand.

Flug sighed, deciding to relent on this one occasion. “Our acquaintance may have run off to be here, and we really need to get her back. She has something that belongs to me… us. Belongs to us.”

“Oh,” Party Hat questioned, seeming to ponder over the question a little bit before realization dawned on him. “Oh! I think you mean my daughter!” He tittered at that, watching with a strange gleeful look as the jaws of the others fell almost to the ground.

Broke Hat composed himself first. “No, we mean our idiot, and if you would kindly show us where she is, we will be on our way,” he corrected, about to begin walking when all of a sudden, Party Hat appeared in front of him, causing Broke to bump into his chest. Silence, and then, “You know you’re only taller with those ridiculous heels on, right?”

“And you’re only taller with that ridiculous top hat, bae-est cousin! Now come on! Unwind. Chill a little! Have some fun,” he said, much like an announcer would. Everyone cheered once more, Broke Hat growling at the nickname until Flug held up a hand to silence the crowd of onlookers. It seemed that people were getting annoyed at this point, that these two people had come in, uninvited (though wasn’t that how most people came to be in this pit of damnation?), and caused the music to stop. Plus, they were just plain rude!

“Look, we just need our fri-” Broke Hat’s glare stopped him from completing that word, and he instead went for something a bit more… relaxed. “Our acquaintance, Demencia. Do you happen to know where she is?”

“Demencia? Hmm… Demencia, Demencia, Demencia,” Party Hat said, tapping his chin in feigned confusion before he ‘recognized’ the name. “Oh yeah! So you do mean my daughter!”

“D-DAUGHTER,” Flug shouted, yanking his hand from Broke’s to place both on either side of his head.

“Yup! Gluggy and I, well, we have been wanting to become parents for a while,” he said as if he hadn’t effectively kidnapped a young girl with fucking lizard superpowers. Glug gave a happy beep at that from behind his mask, his mouth (?) curved into an ever present grin. “And, gee, We couldn’t resist! She just looks so happy! Look at her go,” he continued, another floating spotlight focusing on a girl with a dark pink mohawk, a green lizard hood, dancing before she spotted them, and waved.

“Demencia,” Flug called out, ready to go grab her and just run out of the house. That was, until that security guard, Vaccinia or something, moved to stop him from going after her. “Hey! Get out of my way!”

“Sorry, but this area is reserved for friends of the family only,” she said, holding a hand to block his way.

“Come on,” Party Hat tutted, steepling his fingers together, a smile spreading across his face that traveled to his eyes, even behind those ridiculous glasses. “Demencia isn’t just a friend of the family, she’s a part of it now! You really ought to learn the difference.”

“Sorry sir,” she said, a frown on her face before she began pushing the much weaker man back towards the center, much to his anger.

“Aww, just look at her, Glug,” Party Hat mused, floating over to Glug’s also floating DJ booth and putting an arm around him. “Isn’t she so beautiful? Our little bud is blooming into a wonderful poppy flower!”

“You…” Flug pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s only been four hours.”

“But Flug, but doesn’t it feel like so much longer,” he retorted, Glug giving a content ‘bewoop’ noise from right behind him.

“No, it doesn’t. It’s only been four hours.”

“Well, you’re no fun,” Party Hat grumbled, crossing his arms and glaring from behind some very… unique glasses. That seemed to be agreed upon by the rest of the party goers, who were starting to get a bit antsy: these random nobodies decide that they just want to come in and stop the whole party? For what? Just some

“Boo,” shouted Demencia, followed by more and more people who joined in on calling out the two mystery men, some even going so far as to throw red solo cups at them, along with tissues and glow sticks.

“C-come on! She stole my tip jar,” Flug shouted, and stomped his foot. Now he was fuming. He had to get up at seven in the morning tomorrow to work another eight hour shift, and he was not in the mood for this stuff right now. He just needed to get Demencia and go, and this asshole was making it so much harder than it neede to be! “Look, just give her back!”

“Not unless you give me something in return~”

“What do you even want?! You’re a rich asshole that already has more than what you need,” Broke Hat snarled, pushing Flug behind him in order to keep him from losing it. Flug could get a little nervous in situations like this. Surrounded by people, bright lights, loud sounds… Sensory overload, he had heard Flug refer to it as, after some sort of human meltdown. They needed to leave soon. However, if they got kicked out now, then they lost, and Broke Hat may have been down on his luck, but one thing he would never be was a loser.

“Oh, I dunno,” Party Hat mused, lolling lazily through the air and checking his nails as if they had just been manicured. Knowing him, they probably had. “Why don’t we ask…”

The screens from before began flashing different words, still in impact font but this time with a poorly made stock photo of a party popper, still with the white background and watermark whilst it flipped back and forth, as the crowd began cheering once more in excitement, chanting the next few words slowly. “The Party!”

“Popper!” “Prophet!”

Airhorns provided by DJ Glug were blared through the loud speakers, causing Flug to jump out of his skin, much to the enjoyment of everyone. Party Hat didn’t seem to notice, as he was too busy having fun. “Oh my gosh, you all know me so well,” Party Hat squealed, clapping his hands twice before pulling out a normal looking party popper, if not a bit cheap. “You know how all this works, but just for those who may be new! The object of the game is that we have to do whatever the PPP says! If someone refuses, it’s an automatic forfeit! Winner takes all!”

Before Flug and Broke Hat could talk it over, Broke Hat decided that enough was enough, stepping forward and holding out his hand. “We accept,” he said, hand starting to glow a dark red. “WHAT,” Flug shouted, watching as Party Hat took the other’s hand with little hesitation, his own hand glowing a deep purple. They should’ve at least talked it out! Maybe made a plan, but no! Of course not! Because he didn’t matter, because nothing mattered to either of the two demons!

“Flug, I’ve got this,” Broke Hat said, trying to calm the other down. “It’ll be fine. Have I ever steered you wrong?” “Yes!”

“Oh… Well, this time will be different,” Broke said, turning back to his cousin. “If I win, I get Demencia.”

“And if I win, I get… Hmm. You don’t really have much, do you,” Party Hat asked rhetorically, thinking for a few seconds and scouring his mind. “What is your favorite thing that you own right now?”

“Definitely not you,” Broke retorted, sticking his tongue out.

“Ouch. Harsh,” Party Hat muttered, putting a hand to where his heart would be, if he were human. “I get to keep Demencia, of course, but how about Mr Paper Bag over there,” he asked, pointing at Flug.

Flug froze, eyes wide in alarm and fists clenched at his side. Oh God, he couldn’t survive this night any longer.

Broke Hat seemed to sense the feelings that the other had, glaring at Party Hat and taking Flug’s hand. “He is not for sale. End of discussion.”

“Oh, pff. Fine,” he grumbled, pouting. “Not like I needed him, anyway. I’ve got a Glug with a nice hole, anyway!”

Glug winked at Flug, then flicked his tongue at Broke Hat. Flug grimaced, as did his other, before he stepped forward and did something really, really stupid. “I’ll do it!”

Broke looked at Flug with wide eyes, immediately signalling for him to shut the fuck up. Party Hat just smirked at him, though, eyebrow raised. “Oh? You’ll what?”

Flug had fucked up, oh God, he’d fucked up. But he couldn’t back out now. “I’ll stay here.” Broke Hat face palmed. What an idiot. An adorable, lovable idiot. There was nothing he could do now. Party Hat looked more than amused at this turn of event, holding his head in his hands. “Ooh, looks like we’ve got a volunteer! I hope you enjoy parties, Fluggy boy~” Party winked at Flug, who held his arm in his hand. Glug just wiggled his eyebrows at Flug, who was feeling more and more uncomfortable at the moment. What had he done?

“Just pop the PPP already, nerds,” Demencia shouted from her VVIB area, earning shouts of agreement from the crowd. Did they really have nothing better to do with their time? He supposed not, as Party Hat silenced the crowd once more.

“Fine, fine. So impatient,” Party Hat muttered, waving his hand. “I’ll do it, but only because I love you all! Ready? One… Two… THREE!”

The Party Popper Prophet was popped, the noise a bit louder than Flug would’ve liked. If Broke Hat lost this, he was so fucking screwed. God, how was he going to live here? How did this even work?! He could barely live in an apartment with two other people and a bear, how was he going to live in a mansion that was partying twenty four seven?

“The PPP says…” The confetti from the popper spelled something out in the air. “Epic Rap Battle!”

Oh God, they were so screwed.

“Ooh hoo hoo,” Party Hat chuckled, floating there with a smirk. “Looks like I’m the champion of default! Unless you still wanna go through with this? I won’t complain, but you can’t whine once I beat you!”

“Oooooooh!”

“Y-yeah, well… You’ve obviously never seen Broke Hat rap before,” Flug retorted, causing an uproar, before turning to Broke. “You have rapped before, right?”

“Pfft, of course I have…”

Flug glared.

“Ugh. Do you really want to live here,” Broke asked, crossing his arms.

“What? No!”

“That’s what I fucking thought. Do you know how to beatbox?”

Flug winced. “What the…? I don’t!”

“What the fuck, why not?!”

“Because I never thought I’d need it in order to save my own hide!”

“Alright, alright, I get it, this was a stupid plan and I blame you.”

“Blame m-”

“FLUG THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO BE POINTING FINGERS,” Broke yelled, stomping his foot, before pondering their options.  “Now, we need a plan… Go sabotage him.”

“I… Actually, that’s not that bad of a plan…”

“I know right? It’s almost like you’re not the only genius in the household, Mr I Have Four Ph.Ds and Got Into University on a Scholarship. Now go, find a weak point.”

Flug rushed off, Broke turning back to Party, who raised a brow in confusion. “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to cheat, Brooke.”

“It’s Broke. And even then, nobody’s allowed to call me that. Especially not the likes of you,” he retorted, throwing his hoodie to the side and cracking his knuckles. “Let’s just get this over with, so I can return home and finish that unholy abomination of a feature length film.”

That seemed to perk Party Hat’s interest somewhat. “Oh? Which film?”

“The one with that Seinfeld human as a bee. How anyone could actually consider that a good idea is beyond me,” Broke grumbled, crossing his arms as he stood there.

“Oh, I know which one you’re talking about! Yeah, that was really bad, even for my tastes.” “JUST GET ON WITH IT ALREADY,” Demencia shouted from her booth, Broke Hat glaring at her.

“You’re not helping!”

“I dare to disagree, Bro-key. She has been keeping this party going for a long while! Can’t wait to see what she can do over a long period of time.” He winked at her, blowing her a kiss which she caught and put to her cheek. “That’s my girl!”

Glug stepped down from the floating DJ booth with help from Party Hat, microphone in hand as he cracked his neck and cleared his throat. “Glug will beat box for the both of us, since apparently, you haven’t trained yours to do so.”

“It was never important to us,” Broke Hat sighed, as Glug finally made his way down, standing right behind Party Hat. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Glug began beat boxing, Party nodding along to try and get a feel for the beat  before starting his verse.

“Whoo, okay, time to welcome me to the show, you know, that I’m better in innumerable ways, bro, and if you ever tried, you’d find yourself tongue tied, there’s nothing you can do to stop me! So why don’t you just give up and flee with your homies, before you end up pee-ing yourself, in fear of the ways that I’ll kick you in your shelf!”

“Ooooooooh!”

“Whoot, go Party Hat,” Demencia called from the booth, earning her another glare from Broke Hat. “That doesn’t even make any sense,” he complained. “And you!” He pointed to Demencia. “Stay out of it!”

“Pfft, whatever. You’re not my dad!”

“I very well may be, with the way I put up with your shit all the time! And I’m not even that good at coming up with rhymes, but you know I can’t even think of a single dime, you haven’t spent upon whisky or wine! With your screaming and shouting, it’s driving me crazy, one more word and everything goes hazy! I can’t believe the crap you put us through, you ungrateful little bitch boo fucking hoo!”

Dead silence, even from Demencia and Glug, who must’ve stopped beat boxing a long while ago. Then, someone started clapping. And another. Then, more people, until finally, the whole crowd was in an uproar, as Party Hat looked on in disbelief, before motioning towards Glug. “Cut the lights! Now,” he said through grit teeth, making a slicing motion over his neck. Before Glug could even get through the crowd and back to the stage where all of the controls sat, though, the power went out, red and blue lights flashing underneath the crevice of the door, and the blaring of sirens that sent Party Hat into a panicked frenzy. “WE’VE BEEN CAUGHT EVERY MAN FOR THEMSELVES,” he shouted at the top of his lungs, grabbing Glug and Vaccinia into his arms and making a break for the backyard, whilst everyone else screamed in fear.

“I don’t wanna go to jail!”

“I just thought this would be fun! I didn’t know about the drugs!”

“Wait, there were drugs and I didn’t know about them?!”

Everything was in chaos, and Broke Hat was about to book it as well, after grabbing Demencia of course. That was, until he saw Flug strolling casually through the room, making his way towards the duo as he… whistled? What the fuck was going on?!

“FLUG WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE YOU STUPID ASSHOLE WHY ARE YOU SO NONCHALANT ABOUT THI-”

“Sir! Sir, get it together,” he said, grabbing the other’s hand before he could leave with Demencia over his shoulder. “Have you noticed anything… strange?”

Broke raised an eyebrow at that, before realizing something important: nobody had come through the door. Nobody had tried to raid the house, or even talk to them. The only thing alerting anyone to the presence of cops was the sirens and the lights. No human beings in sight. At that moment, Broke smiled wide, wider than either of them had seen in awhile. “Flug, you may be an idiot most of the time, but that was one of your best moves yet. Although it really wasn’t necessary in the long term, I suppose…”

“Yeah, Broke Hat killed it,” Demencia piped in, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “You should’ve seen it! He was yelling at me, and it sort of rhymed I suppose, but dude it was amazing! He’s no Deltron but he is… I don’t know. Something?”

She shrugged, a smirk on her face and tongue sticking out, before she started to skip out of the manor. Broke Hat began following behind, since with this stupid inhibitor, he couldn’t see much in the darkness, and Flug following dead last, clinging to Broke. He would need a bath and everything once he got out of this Hell hole. He wondered if Demencia would let him borrow one of her Lush products that she insisted on buying twice a month, even if they barely had the money to afford it.

“Speaking of which,” he muttered to himself before looking at Demencia with a frown. “You’re grounded.”

[bamby0304]

‘Til Death do us Don’t

Summary:

Negan. Ruthless. Arrogant. Selfish. Thoughtless. Brutal. Rude. Crass. Abominable. Just a few words to describe the leader of your home, the Sanctuary. Yet, despite all of this, you were still drawn to him. Still attracted to the curve of his smirk and lean in his stance. But could you resist all his charms? Or could he reel you in like a prize to add to his collection?

Pairings: Negan x Reader

A/N: Look, I’m not in love with the title, but I couldn’t not do a fic based on this imagine by @we-write-imagines :P 

Word Count: 1,500+

Warnings: Explicit language, implied smut

Bamby

You rolled over, your sweat slicked skin sticking to the satin sheets of Negan’s bed. Out of breath and satisfied, you smiled up at the ceiling as you prepared to let the blissful endings of your orgasm roll you to sleep.

Movement beside you didn’t deter your determination to rest. You didn’t even open your eyes to look at your leader as he dropped onto the bed with a heavy and contented sigh. His leg draped itself over your hip and between your thighs, as his arm slid under your head and around your shoulders. The two of you easily drifted off.

Like every other time you’d spent the night at Negan’s, you woke up before him and managed to slip out before he could stir.

The walk of shame back to your room never bothered you. What bothered you was how people acted once they started making assumptions.

Living at the Sanctuary had its ups and downs. You knew how bad things could get for the workers. You knew how good things could be for the Saviours. You were not oblivious to your leader’s cruel ways, or the number of women he coveted- most of which weren’t even part of his six-women harem. But you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards Negan, and he certainly hadn’t tried to stop you.

Yet, still… you felt your morals and confidence fall each and every time you slipped into his room and out of your clothes.

It didn’t take long for people to put two and two together. Soon enough, they began to judge you. Some pitied you, because catching the attention of your ruthless leader was their worst nightmare. While others hated you for betraying the workers and turning your back on those who needed your support.

But you were still the same fun loving, hardworking, cheerful person you’d been when you first arrived. You still did your job, and socialized with the few friends you’d made since coming to your new home… though, you hadn’t missed the number of your friends dwindling and shrinking with each passing day.

Everyone truly hated your relationship with Negan.

That night, you slipped into his room once more, your clothes falling off your shoulders before the door had even closed.

Time and time again, you tried to fight your attraction, but failed.

Most nights you ended up between Negan and his sheets. Most nights your fell asleep spent, your hunger for his touch fulfilled… only to wake up with an emptiness nagging at your mind and heart, scolding you for your actions.

You would spend the day sulking internally, while trying to keep up a facade of indifference and ignorance, smiling at others as you worked away. Then, as night would fall and people scurried off to their dorms, you would slip through those all too familiar doors and into the warm embrace of the killer you were beginning to fall for.

You were enjoying the sun during your lunch break, sitting in a spot you’d found at the back of the Sanctuary where you got some semblance of privacy and solitude. It was here that you let your mind wonder and wander, thinking of all the things you wanted and all the things you needed.

It was there that he found you.

A shadow cast over your form as you flicked through the pages of a book you’d bought after scrapping up enough points. Looking up, you met the grinning gaze of your leader cross lover.

“Well, this is a fucking surprise.”

You didn’t respond with words, just a simple smile as you watched him sit on the seat across the table from you. He set the wooden and barbwire hugged bat, Lucille, onto the table and off to the side slightly so she didn’t rest between the two of you.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you outside of my fucking room.” He flashed you a quick wink at the slight pun he slipped into the comment.

Blushing lightly, you turned your attention to your book just long enough to save the page and close it, before you met his eyes again. “Well, it’s not like I don’t have responsibilities. Gotta work to live.” You noted, a playful smile tugging on your lips.

“What if you didn’t?” He asked, tone all serious, grin now gone.

Not entirely sure what he meant, and how to respond, you gave a small and confused frown. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking. About you. About us. About everything.” He shrugged casually, as if his words weren’t building a tense and awkward pressure between the two of you. “I haven’t touched my wives in fucking weeks. I haven’t even looked at another woman. All I can think about is you.”

“Negan…”

His words were a shock to your ears. Never in a million years would you have thought this would be the case, that he would be saying these words to you like he is right now.

His words were a shock to your ears. Never in a million years would you have thought this would be the case, that he would be saying these words to you like he is right now.

“I’m not a fucking idiot, doll.” He gave you a pointed look. “I know why you leave before I wake up. I know why I don’t see you around.”

You swallowed the hard lump growing in your throat, feeling a light sheen of sweat forming on your skin. Nerves bubbled in your stomach, teasing and taunting the butterflies Negan could sometimes awaken and invoke.

“I know people talk about you, and I fucking know how the assholes feel about you.” He gritted his teeth. “I know you try to fucking hide it, but I can see you fucking struggling around all these assholes. That’s why you’re hiding around here. That’s why you’ve got your nose buried in that fucking book.”

For someone who didn’t see you around a lot, he was making some pretty good assumptions…

“Fuck them. You don’t have to worry about those assholes anymore. One word from you and my wives will be gone, you’ll have me all to yourself. You won’t have to work another fucking day in your life. Won’t have to look these sorry shits in the face ever again. One fucking word, that’s all I need.”

Your jaw dropped as your mind tried to keep up with what he was saying…

“Negan… are you asking me… to marry you?”

Despite his language, and somewhat angry and agitated words, he still managed to pull off a leering and tempting smile. It played on the edges of his lips, barely visible around the salt and pepper beard. But it was there, you could see it, and you knew exactly what it meant.

He was asking you to marry him.

Thousands of thoughts whirled around your mind in one go. Millions and millions of situation and scenarios. All the benefits. All the consequences. Al the gains. All the losses. All the positives. All the negatives. Everything that could possible come from whatever response you might utter.

When your mouth opened, and a single word slipped through your lips, even you were a little surprised.

“No.”

His smile fell, replaced by a look of pure hurt you’d never seen on his face before. A look that broke your heart almost as much as you’d just broken his.

Eyes tearing away from yours, he set his gaze on Lucille, and for a second you wondered if you’d missed this consequence. Was he about to personally introduce you to the famed and feared bat? Was he about to kill you?

Reaching over, he grabbed the bat with an almost lazy and slack grasp, before he moved to slid from his chair and walk away, without a word or glance to you.

Seeing the look of pain and disappointment on his face, you felt the need to console him in any way possible. Besides, you might not want to be his wife but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to be with him.

“I’m fine with sharing. You can’t kick the others out. And there is no way in hell I’m not working. I can’t sit on my ass all day twiddling my thumbs. And I can’t have you treating me like some kind of trophy. I’m still a human being, and I need the respect of others, not just you. And whatever we are, it’s not husband and wife. I’ll still have my own room, and my own space, just in case I ever need some time alone. Which will happen, and you can’t get shitty with me because of it. Like I said, I’m a human being.”

Looking down at you as he stood by the table, Negan’s face stayed neutral and thoughtful for a moment longer, before it stretched out into a wide grin.

“So, you’re my mistress, is that what you’re saying?”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled yourself to your feet to stand in front of him “Let’s not pretend I wasn’t already.”

Grabbing his leather jacket, you pulled him down to your lips knowing the kiss was sealing the deal, and sealing your life. You might not be his wife, but you were certainly his.

Bamby