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You've been dating the farmer for 2 weeks now. They come up to you, covered in blood that doesn't look like it was theirs, wearing the neighbor's trash can on their head. They throw something small at your head, say "will you marry me" before passing out at your feet. You pick it up. It's a shell.

Three days later, you're happily married. The farmer didn't even take off the sword for the wedding.

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Ichor

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader Genre: angst, fluff Warnings: kidnapping, torture, blood, shooting, death, and uh I think that’s it. Sorry guys I didn’t hold back Word Count: 9.8k (is that too long omg this is the longest fic I’ve ever wrote. I’m sorry if it’s too long srhvoehrfvnwoinveg) Summary: (Y/n) could never have seen this coming. Hopefully, the team will have her back like always 

Three days. 

Three days since this happened. 

You see, this happens almost every single day that you’re at work and yet you never thought that it would happen to you. I mean, no one really thinks that they’ll ever be harmed in any sort of way until it happens. No one ever thinks that this sort of thing will happen to their friends and family. 

You stare up at the ceiling, still trying to figure out where you are. From the looks of it, you were in an empty barn or a big shed. From what you remember, all of the people you interviewed or suspected had either or even both on their property. 

Your mind starts to wander to before all of this. Before all of the threats and torture. 

To Spencer. 

He’s probably so worried about you. He always is no matter what the situation. Even when you aren’t on a case, he’s always making sure you are well. 

You two kind of have this unspoken thing. It’s obvious to everyone that you two like each other but you two don’t know it yourselves. How could two profilers not tell that the other likes them? You two are both very intelligent and resourceful and yet you don’t know the first thing about love. 

“Spence, I’m not playing you in chess.” 

“Why not? It’s a good way for you t-”

“Nope. Not happening. You just beat me every time.” The puppy dog eyes and pout is what you wanted to see from that statement. He always looks cute but he looks even cuter when making that face. You couldn’t play against him even if you wanted to. Your poor heart wouldn’t be able to see his nose all scrunched up in concentration. 

“We need everyone in the conference room,” JJ says as she walks between all of your desks. You were leaning against Spencer’s desk when she came by. You push yourself off and go to your desk, grabbing your notepad and a pen. You then follow the others to the conference room, taking your usual seat next to Spencer. 

JJ waits for everyone to reach the room before starting her briefing. She says someone in Tennesse is kidnapping young adult females and torturing them for a week before killing them. Then, the whole process starts over and they go to their next victim. So far, they have taken and killed four women. Local law enforcement called JJ because they know it’s the same person from their signature. 

“What’s their signature?” Hotch asks. JJ looks to him before changing the pictures on the screen, revealing new pictures with the females having a branding mark and the lobes of their ears cut off. 

“Why would he mark them like this? Does he want to be caught?” Morgan asks, probably just thinking out loud like most of you do. 

“He’s treating them like cattle,” Spencer explains. All the city folk look to him, waiting for him to explain further. Before he can though, you cut in. 

“I lived in Tennessee for a couple of years and a lot of farmers mark their livestock in some way as to identify the owner of the livestock. No farmers’ mark is the same because of this reason. There are many ways to identify their livestock like freeze branding, inner lip or ear tattoos, earmarking, ear tagging, radio-frequency identification, and tagging with a microchip implant,” you explain. You and Spencer like to show up each other to keep things interesting. It’s more of a way to tease each other more than anything really.

“So, this sick bastard likes to mark his victims to show people that these women are ‘his’?” Emily asks, it not really sounding like a question. 

“It appears so,” Rossi replies, writing things down in his notebook. 

JJ gives us some more information before Hotch says the usual. “Wheels up in ten.” He then gathers up his file and whatnot before heading out. You stand and get your things, waiting for Spencer. You always wait for each other. 

“Coffee before we head out?” you ask him, knowing he’s basically obsessed with coffee and drinks it whether it’s good coffee or not. 

“Do you even have to ask?” Spencer asks with a chuckle, letting you walk out of the door first. 

You two chatted until you had to leave, grabbing your overnight bags before getting to the plane. As soon as you all reached the plane, you started to talk more about the case. You toss ideas back and forth to each other. When you get to Tennessee, you immediately go to the local police. 

You stay there for hours upon hours, getting no sleep while you’re working the case. Eventually, Hotch orders you to go to the hotel, seeing as how the man, as you all profiled him to be, already has someone in his clutches. She only has a day left but Hotch reassures you that if they find anything, they’ll call you. 

You do as your told, letting out a yawn and rubbing your eyes. You say goodbye to Spencer before you leave, giving him a hug. The hug lasts longer than usual since you’re tired, making you a little more clingy to him than usual. He blushes at the hug, looking around at everyone that’s giving him knowing looks. 

“Text me when you get to the hotel,” he says softly to you when you pull away, trying to contain his smile when you nod your head with your eyes almost shut. You almost kiss him on the cheek but you’re not quite that tired yet to be so careless. 

You then head out, making your way downstairs and to the building’s exit. You leave the cars for them to drive in case of an emergency, deciding to walk since it’s only a couple of streets away. You yawn and start the walk, thanking yourself for not wearing heels and instead wearing flats. 

You stuff your hands into your pockets, the air being a bit chilly compared to when you first got here. You look behind you occasionally, knowing good and well that it can be dangerous to walk alone at night. You get jumpy a few times and almost take out your gun when you hear some random noises. They were all just false alarms though. 

By the time you reach the hotel, you’re a little more awake than before but you’re still exhausted from all the sleep you’ve missed out on. You check-in at the front desk and get your hotel key before going up to the fourth floor where you’re staying. You walk in with a yawn, seeing a single bed. You gave the room with two beds to Emily and JJ since you didn’t know when they would be coming and didn’t want one of them to come in and wake you up. 

You text Spencer once you get to your room, smiling when he sends you back a smiley face emoticon. He has yet to use an emoji but you’re determined to make him crack.

You took a shower before going to bed, falling asleep almost as soon as you’re tucked under the covers. You’re asleep for hours until there’s a knock on the door, making you groan. You slowly sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, looking at the time to see it’s early morning. Must be Spencer or someone coming to get you to come back to work. 

“Give me a sec!” you call as you slip out of bed, going to get dressed into your work clothes. You quickly put everything on before grabbing your badge and gun that you kept by the bed. You run your hands through your hair, using your fingers as a makeshift brush. You’ll just pull it back later anyway, so there’s no real need to make it look nice. Other than for Spencer, your mind helpfully supplies. You ignore the thought and go to the door, unlocking it before opening it up. 

Instead of finding one of your team members, you find housekeeping standing there with a smile. “Sorry to bother you. I wasn’t sure if you were in there and when I knocked, you told me to wait,” the man explains with a smile, his eyes spotting your gun but looking back up into your eyes before you could realize he noticed. 

You flash him a tired smile in response and wave off his apology, tucking your badge into your pocket, which he also notices. “It’s alright. I thought you were someone else. You actually can come in. I’m heading out now,” you say to the nice man. He nods in response and steps aside to let you out, telling you to have a nice day as you walk away. You return the polite words before walking to the elevator. 

You go in and then go downstairs, smiling at the woman at the front desk before walking to the police station. When you get there, you find they’ve made little progress and are even more stressed. The woman he has is to be killed soon and dropped off somewhere to be found by tomorrow. 

You all work diligently, coming to dead ends and having to go back to square one. You all have a couple of hours left when a call comes in with someone claiming to have found the body on a hiking trail. You frown and stand up from your chair, slipping your jacket back on. 

You all go to where the caller claimed the body to be, finding the caller at the entrance of the trail. Hotch orders JJ and you to interview the caller, find out if they know anything other than what they said on the phone, like seeing who dropped the body off. 

You get no new information and the others confirm that the body is the missing woman. You’re devastated, to say the least. 

You couldn’t save her. 

She was supposed to have a day left to live. That could’ve been all the time you needed to track her down and save her. So why did he kill her sooner than all the other victims? Did he know her? Was it personal? 

You do all that you can at the site before getting back into your cars and going back to the station. When there, you all work overtime to find new information and clues. Eventually, the press start swarming outside of the police station. Hotch asks why they’re outside to which one deputy lets him know that it got out that a dead body was discovered. JJ reassures Hotch that she’ll handle the press and quickly goes outside to deal with them. 

You work until the time is up, figuring he’s gotten a new woman by now. But you never got a phone call of a missing or abducted woman, so some of the police hope that he’s done killing now. You all hope that’s the case but you refuse to just give up, even if he is done. You still need to catch him to avenge the five women he’s tortured and killed. 

For the next hour, you all wait for a call or a report that never comes. 

“Maybe he got a homeless person or a prostitute,” you suggest, looking at the map where the women were taken and found. 

“That doesn’t match the profile though. He goes after women with high paying jobs and are said to be hard workers,” Spencer replies, staring at the same map as you. 

“Then is he really done?” JJ asks softly, hopefully. 

Morgan sighs and rubs at his face before looking at the pictures of the five women. “I hope he’s done but it makes our job a little more difficult. Why can’t we catch this guy?” he says quietly. He has a good point but you’d rather he be done than to take another woman. 

“Alright, who wants to go to the hotel to get some rest?” Hotch asks when he enters the room. Everyone remains quiet, no one wanting to leave or to admit to wanting to do so. “Either you pick or I will,” he continues. 

“Why don’t you go to the hotel? You haven’t left since we got here,” you reply, looking over at him. His tired eyes turn to you before looking at all the information on the boards. You should’ve known that was a bad idea. He never leaves to go back to the hotel unless he’s literally about to collapse. 

“(L/n), thank you for volunteering. Go,” he says cooly, not even looking over at you. 

“But I-” you start to argue before he quickly cuts you off. 

“Go,” he interrupts, finally looking over at you to squint his eyes a bit at you. You sigh and look over at Spencer with a pout. He just flashes a smile at you as he soothingly rubs your back. 

“There’s not much more we can do other than to try and figure out where he is, who he is, or who he’s going to take next. We’ll call you if we get anything. Promise,” Spencer reassures. You groan before turning your chair back towards the desk, gathering your things. You then leave just like you did yesterday, feeling a little better since it’s not pitch black outside like it was last time. 

You look to the setting sun, a frown weighing heavy on your face. You won’t be able to stop him from kidnapping someone new but you will find her before he kills them. You swear that to yourself. 

You reach the hotel with ease and go up to your room, doing the same thing you did the last time you were here, including texting Spencer that you’re here. You weren’t as tired though, so you took your time with the shower and getting ready for bed. You were also anxious about getting a phone call confirming a new girl has been taken but until then, Hotch is right. You need to get some rest so that you’ll be even more helpful in catching this sick bastard. 

As you’re climbing into bed, there’s a knock on the door. You check the time before climbing out of bed and going to the door. You suppose it’s housekeeping again since you just left the station. You open the door with a smile, finding the same man from before. 

“Oh, you’re here. Sorry, I figured you’d still be gone,” he instantly apologizes. You shake your head and flash him another smile. 

“Nope. I just got back. I know how excited you were to clean up my room,” you say playfully. He chuckles in response and nods his head. 

“I actually was,” he replies. You assume he’s joking but it almost didn’t seem like a joke?

“Sorry to disappoint. I’ll be gone in the morning though,” you reassure, still playful. You’re about to close the door and go to bed when he suddenly speaks again. 

“Actually, I have something for you,” he says, turning to his utility cart. Your brows furrow before you figure he has towels or something for you, letting go of the door to lean against the doorframe. He digs around the items on the cart, looking for whatever it is that is so hard to find. Maybe he accidentally picked up a shirt or something when picking up dirty towels off the floor? You have no idea, but you just keep guessing until he finds what he’s looking for. 

He then suddenly turns around and wraps one arm around the back of your neck, the other hand holding a rag to your mouth and nose. You struggle against him but quickly discover that there’s chloroform on the rag. Your body quickly starts to get weak, but you aren’t going down without a fight. Despite what crime television shows people, it takes about five minutes for chloroform to work unless they’ve put things such as alcohol or diazepam into the mix. 

You struggle against the strong man, using all of your training to try and get the rag from your face. With him in front of you, this complicates things a bit. If he were behind you, you could’ve just head-butted him or something. You mentally curse yourself for not having your gun on you. That definitely would’ve made things easier. 

About a minute into struggling, you bring your hands to his face. You claw and scratch at his face, trying to hurt him enough to cradle his face. He already has plenty of scars on his face, making you wonder if the other women he took did the same thing as you. This makes you doubt your puny scratching will do anything to help you. 

This is when you bring your thumbs to his eyes, swiftly starting to dig them into the sockets. He curses and pulls his hands away from you to yank your own away. With his eyes closed and struggling to open them, you use this to your advantage. You knee him in the groin and wait for him to let you go before running down the hall. 

As you run, you realize you should’ve just run back into your room to get your gun. You’re not exactly at your sharpest with the adrenaline and panic filling you. You don’t get far before something is harshly hitting against the back of your skull, sending you sprawling to the ground. You try to keep your eyes open but it’s a losing battle. 

It didn’t take long for you to pass out and go completely slack against the floor. 

The next day, Spencer called you and frowned when you didn’t reply. He had gone back to the hotel a couple of hours after you did. After all, their smartest mind there needed to be on its A game. When you don’t answer the phone, he just decides to come to your room to wake you up. He knocks on the door but gets no answer. 

“Did she already go to work? Maybe she’s just not near her phone,” he convinces himself quietly. Well, he tries. Him being him, he calls JJ who is at the station already. 

“Spencer?” she answers, wondering why he’d be calling her if he’s still at the hotel. 

“Hey, um, is (Y/n) there yet?” he asks, afraid of the answer. You always answer your phone, even if you’re dead asleep or showering. You always answer, especially if it’s him. 

“(Y/n)? No. She’s still at the hotel,” she replies confusedly. With this new information, he starts to bang on the hotel door. 

“(Y/n)! (Y/n), are you in there?” he shouts loud enough for you to hear if you’re in there. After a couple of seconds with no reply, his heart drops to his stomach. 

“Spencer? Spencer! Why are you shouting? What’s wrong? Where’s (Y/n)?” JJ rushes out, standing from her chair. This gets the rest of the team’s attention. He almost forgets to respond, currently trying to shoulder open the door. He quickly discovers that the door is either too thick and/or he’s too weak to get it open. He swiftly turns and starts running to the elevator to smash the button repeatedly in hopes of it coming up to him faster. 

“I think (Y/n) is in danger! She’s not answering her phone and she’s not coming to the door! I’m going down to the lobby to get her room key!” he replies shakily. In fact, his whole body is shaking and his breathing is labored. 

He hears her relay this information to the team as the elevator doors slide open. “We are on our way,” JJ replies promptly after telling the team what happened before hanging up. He pockets his phone and repeatedly hits the lobby button. He knows it won’t help make it go faster but he needs to do something with his hands. 

The elevator doors aren’t even open all the way before he’s bursting through the doors and running to the front desk. The lady behind the desk starts to greet him before she’s interrupted by his demand for your room key. She’s ready to deny him before he’s showing her his badge, her eyes widening. She quickly gets it and hands it to him, gasping a bit when he snatches it from her hand. 

He goes back to the elevator and once again repeatedly hits the button. While he’s waiting for the elevator, the team is running in and coming over to Spencer just as the doors open. They all pile in and watch as Spencer does the same thing with the four button. They decide not to say anything about it and to leave him be. 

They all run out of the elevator and go to your room, letting Spencer open the door. Morgan and Hotch have their guns out just in case. Spencer feels like he’s going to throw up. He prays to whatever god there might be that you’re okay and not dead on the other side of this door. 

He’s slightly relieved when he finds that you are, in fact, not dead on the other side. He’s only slightly relieved because that means that you’re missing. Emily goes over to the bedside table and finds that your badge and gun are still there. “Guys,” she calls out to them, letting them see her discovery. 

“Phone is over here plugged in,” Morgan adds, on the other side of the bed where there’s a place to plug in your charger. Spencer sits on the bed and runs his hands through his hair, his chest feeling tight and finding it hard to breathe. 

“Spencer, hey,” JJ coos softly, squatting down to be in front of him and gently placing her hands onto his knees. He shakes his head, his eyes starting to fill with tears. Hotch quickly comes over and puts his hand onto the back of his head. 

“He’s having a panic attack. Reid, put your head between your knees,” he demands. Reid barely registers this but feels the pressure on the back of his head to help him do as he’s told. Once there, Hotch lets go and moves to where Rossi is looking in the bathroom. 

“JJ, inform the station of this.” She nods her head and moves away from Spencer, motioning for someone to help comfort him. With Emily being the closest, she takes a seat beside him and runs her hand soothingly over his back. 

“No signs of forced entry,” Rossi notes, studying the door after he comes out of the bathroom. 

“None of her things from her bag have been taken,” Morgan adds. “Her computer, wallet, and other valuables are still here,” he continues. Spencer picks his head up at this and moves over to her suitcase. He instantly starts to sift through everything in there, making his hands refuse to shake. 

He swallows the bile that tries to force its way up, his eyes seeing black spots. He shakes his head and gulps, licking his dry lips before speaking. “She’s missing a pair of socks, a belt, a pair of heels, a dress, and most of her undergarments.” 

Before anyone can reply and ask how he knows, he stands up and goes to the bathroom. He then comes back after a minute or so and announces, “She’s also missing her shampoo, conditioner, perfume, hairbrush, toothbrush, and lotion from the bathroom.” He then sits down again, his fingers raking through his hair. “She’s also missing…” he trails off, feeling the tiniest bit embarrassed. 

When he doesn’t finish, Hotch decides then to step in. “She’s also missing what?” Spencer remains quiet for a long moment before finally answering the question.

“A picture of us...”

“Uh, Reid? How do you know any of that?” Morgan asks, raising a brow at him. Reid looks down at his hands, which have begun to shake again. He laces them together in hopes of stopping or at least calming the shaking. 

“Because I helped her pack her overnight bag the last time she needed to repack it. The underwear thing I would just like to clarify that I did not help her pack. It’s just obvious that they’re missing cause everyone packs multiple pairs,” he rambles a bit. The others don’t bother questioning him on this seeing as how you two are basically connected at the hip. 

“Let’s get forensics here to take pictures and dust for fingerprints,” Hotch says to JJ before leaving. There wasn’t that much for them to find in the room other than what they already found. They all file out of the room and head back down to the lobby. 

“You can’t let anyone else stay in that room until this is solved,” Hotch explains to the manager once he explains what happened. He then asks to see the video camera set up in the hallway. The manager leads them all to the security room and shows them the surveillance footage. 

“She texted me about ten minutes after she left,” Spencer says to the manager. The manager then pulls up the camera’s footage for after you left for work, speeding it up until you get there. He then sets it to normal speed, you’re moving your lips and moving a bit, making Rossi confused. 

“What is she doing?” he asks, leaning forward a bit to get a better look at the screen. 

“She’s singing and dancing,” Spencer says fondly, his chest aching at the sight of you being so happy and goofy. He just hopes it isn’t his last time he sees you like this. You go into your room with no problems and don’t come out. The manager fast forwards the footage and stops when someone shows up. So far though, all of the people were just the other residents that were staying in that hall. 

The manager slows it to normal speed when a custodian starts to roll his cart down the hallway. He skips all other doors and goes right to yours. He knocks and Spencer’s stomach drops when you open it, knowing he was the one who took you. He watches everything. The muted talking, his hands going to the cart, your worries dropping, his pressing a rag to your face, how you struggle, how you manage to get away, how you run towards where the camera is, how the man grabs a fire extinguisher and hits you over the head, how you collapse to the ground, how the man puts you on the lowest shelf of the cart, covering you with towels and whatever else he could use to hide you. It made the cart look messier but it did its job. 

Hiding you. 

He then just closes your door with a towel covering his hand and goes to the elevator to take you who knows where. 

Spencer feels absolute fury boil through his veins, wanting to punch something which is definitely a new feeling for him. Right after feeling that though, he feels his stomach lurch. He runs over to the door where a trash can is resting right beside it, falling to his knees and heaving his stomach’s contents into the bin. 

When he’s done, he feels weak and ready to cry his eyes out. You’re gone. That man took you. What if he does more than torture you like those other women? He didn’t bother hiding his face or taking you in a place with no cameras like his other victims. So, why you? What if he kills you? What if you’re his last victim and he plans on dying with you?

Spencer almost pukes again from the idea. Nothing makes him angrier than the thought that this prick could get the easy way out.

The team had never seen him act like this. Then again, he was closer to you than any of them were. They knew if their significant other was taken, they’d probably act the same. JJ and Morgan help him up, everyone is immensely concerned about him. 

“Call Garcia,” Hotch tells Morgan, which Morgan instantly nods his head and pulls out his phone. “We need everything you have on your employee,” Hotch says to the manager. 

The manager slowly turns back to face Hotch, his face as white as a sheet with sweat lining his brows. “He doesn’t work here. I don’t know who that man is,” he stutters out, looking back to the screen. Hotch sighs and closes his eyes for a moment before turning to face his team. 

“We need to go back to the station,” he says after telling the manager to send him the video feed. “Garcia, we need you to analyze this video we are about to send you. Tell us whatever you can,” Hotch says quickly and then heads for the door. She quickly complies and gets to work, expecting to see a woman being abducted. 

What she doesn’t expect to see is you. She can’t help the tears that start to run down her face. 

You gasp when ice cold water is thrown onto you, soaking right through your clothes and freezing you to the bone. Goosebumps rise on your skin as you cough a bit, blinking the water out of your eyes as you look up to where the water came from. You scowl when you see the man who had taken you, disgust filling you when you watch his eyes trail over your body now that your clothes are sticking to you. 

“Great, you’re awake, agent.” 

You sneer a bit at this, trying not to shake in front of him. You can’t tell if your shaking is from fear or the cold water. You go with the cold water. 

“What? Got nothin’ to say to me?”

You remain quiet, refusing to give him any sort of satisfaction. You’ve interviewed psychos like him plenty of times before. You just need to figure out what kind of psycho he is and then use it against him. 

“Are you not impressed that I managed to kill those other girls and then take you? An FBI agent that is here to try and find me?” he coos.

Ah, so he’s egotistical and a narcissist. He should be easy to play then. 

“Actually, yes. I’m very impressed. I’ve had years of training to defend myself and you managed to take me down in, what, two minutes?” It was a bit of a stretch, seeing as how you haven’t had years of training and it was longer than two minutes, but you needed to boost this guy’s ego. 

A proud smile comes onto his face as expected. You almost roll your eyes at how predictable he is. 

“Now, that’s what I wanted to hear! Everyone will be so shocked when they find you dead right in front of the police station! They’ll be asking questions about me for years to come! ‘How did he do it?’ they’ll all ask,” he boasts. 

You just stare at him, struggling to play along into his fantasy. 

“Now that you’re awake, we can get this party started,” he suddenly says with a crazed grin when you don’t reply. 

“I hope there’s booze,” you say half joking. Alcohol could seriously help you out right now. 

“I’m afraid not, dollface. But don't worry. I promise you’ll have loads of fun,” he replies with a wink. 

After he says this, he pulls out a pocket knife. “First things first, we need to get rid of these pesky clothes,” he purrs as he steps up to you. You try to move your arms, feeling bile rise in your throat. You look up to see you’ve been chained up like meat hanging in preparation of being cut. 

You tug on your hands which makes him chuckle, watching him drag his knife through your button up shirt. “Such a shame that your buddies can’t see you now,” he says with a mock sigh of sadness. “But don’t worry. You’ll see them soon enough.” 

You assume he means they’ll see you dead. 

Three days go by. 

He uses multiple tools to cut and slice into your delicate skin, making you bleed out for a while before wrapping it to stop the bleeding. He repeated this process to keep you weak. Each time he dug that knife into you, he showed you the picture of you and Spencer. He also refused to give you any water or food unless it was necessary to keep you alive. Sometimes, he’d let you pass out and would wake you up by digging his knife into your skin.

At some point, you secretly wished you could just be dead rather than having to go through this. After that thought though, you instantly regretted it. Your team will save you. If you died, you knew they’d be devastated. 

You have to stay strong and fight this. 

You always use the time the man isn’t with you to try and figure out where you are. You figured out quickly that you’re in a barn. That didn’t really help you much though in the long run. Nothing really stood out to you but then again, with how weak you are, you wouldn’t be surprised if you missed plenty of things. 

After being there for four days, the man who kidnapped you comes up to you with a giant grin. “Ready to go home?” Your brows furrow at the question, wondering if that meant you were going to be killed. 

The man frees you of your restraints, knowing good and well you’re too weak to escape. You are only in your bra and panties, cuts and other markings all over your body. When he lets you free, you almost immediately collapse to the ground. 

“Let’s play a game,” he says into your ear, making you want to gag. He then pulls a bag over your head and drags you out of the building and into a car. You simply lay there motionless, being too weak to move. Once the car is stopped, you hear his door open and close before he crawls into the backseat where you are. 

He takes the bag off and starts to put something on you. “This earpiece will let you hear me. This wire will let me hear them. You are to do as I say. If you decide to rat me out or stay with them, I will leave you here and simply take a new girl. The longer you are alive, the more women I will kill. When you come back to me, if you are followed, I have instructed someone to take my place. Do you understand?”

You nod your head, your eyes barely even open. He hums and kisses your forehead before shoving you out of the van. “I’ll inform you of where to meet me once you have left them,” he commands before driving off. You watch him drive off before slowly turning to look at where he dropped you off. 

Right in front of the station. 

You slowly stumble to the station, your bare feet burning on the concrete. You open the glass door, your blood getting on it as you lean against it. You then walk in further before you hear someone gasp, meaning someone noticed you. 

“Ma’am! Ma’am, are you alright?” you hear a man shout. You turn to see a police officer quickly making his way towards you. He kind of looks like the man who took you. 

That thought alone triggers something inside of you.  

“Don’t touch me!” you scream, quickly stumbling away from him before falling to the ground. At your scream, the whole station was in an uproar. 

“She’s bleeding!” 

“Someone call an ambulance!”

“Wait, that’s the missing detective!” 

The team was already making their way to the commotion from the conference room when they heard that last part. It was easy for Spencer to shove his way through the crowd at that last part. 

“(Y/n)!” he shouts, his eyes filling with tears. You’re looking around quickly, your body shivering on the cold ground. At the sound of your name, you turn to see the man. Your whole body goes into a panic. 

“No! Please! No more! Don’t touch me!” you beg, making Spencer stop in his tracks at how afraid you appear to look at him. Tears start to fall from his eyes as his body starts to quake all over again. He wants nothing more than to just hold you. Why won’t you let him near you?

“Give her space!” Hotch demands.

“Stop gaping at her! She’s indecent!” Emily shouts to everyone, seeing as how you’re only in your undergarments. She knows they weren’t staring at you because of that but she knows later when you come to it, you’re going to be embarrassed and ashamed. The men quickly look away at this demand, her brows furrowing as she looks at you. She takes Spencer’s coat from him and slowly starts to walk towards you. 

“(Y/n)? Hey, it’s alright. It’s me, Emily. You’re okay,” she says soothingly, not getting too close to you in fear you’d freak out again. As soon as you see her though, relief fills you. You start to sob as you reach out to her, letting her quickly go over to you and pull the jacket over you. She buttons it up for you, seeing as how your hands are shaking too badly to do so. 

Once it’s on, she pulls you into a hug. After hugging you for a minute or so, she slowly helps you up. Since you have on Spencer’s coat, it goes down to your thighs with ease. You have to lean against her heavily, your head not being able to stay up completely on its own. “JJ, can you find her some clothes while I clean her up?” she asks softly as she passes her, leading you to a bathroom. 

“Don’t let them clean you or put clothes on you,” you suddenly hear in your ear. 

“No,” you demand. JJ stops in her tracks and turns to look at you confused. 

“But, (Y/n)-” Emily starts, ready to convince you. Why wouldn’t you want clothes or to be cleaned up? 

“No!” you cry out, trying to pull yourself free from her hold. She holds tight onto you, afraid that you’d fall again. 

“Okay, okay! We won’t clean you or get you new clothes!” she promises. You calm down at this, letting her lead you to the conference room where they were set up. She sits you down and gives the okay for the guys to come into the conference room. They all slowly walk in, not wanting to startle you. 

You tightly hold onto the jacket with a vice-like grip, your eyes watery. She sits down next to you, running a hand along your back. “(Y/n), who did this to you?” she says softly. 

“Don’t answer that.” You shake your head, not answering her question. 

JJ’s brows furrow for a moment before she picks up the notepad in the middle of the table, quickly scrawling something down. She then turns it around to show the others. 

She’s wired. He can hear us and she can hear him. 

You nod your head when you see it, a tear falling down your face. “Why send her back with that? We can just remove it,” Morgan says, not bothering to try and hide the fact that he knows. “He didn’t try hiding it. He knows we know,” he explains when he sees JJ’s horrified face that he just announced it like that. 

Your eyes slowly move to the man, feeling sick just looking at him. Why is he crying? He has no right to be crying.

(Y/n), who did this?

You look up at Hotch, who was the one who wrote it. You then point at the man, Spencer’s brows furrowing at this. Everyone is just as confused as he was. That’s when understanding appears on Spencer’s face, his legs bringing him to the seat furthest away from you. 

“(Y/n), that’s Spencer. He’s your...friend. He wouldn’t do this,” Morgan explains. You shake your head, making more tears fall. 

“He’s tricked her. He must have shown the picture of me to her every time he tortured her. Now, when she sees me, she associates me with the pain,” he explains, placing his head into his hands. He then stands and suddenly slides everything on the desk off to the floor. 

“I’ll kill him when I get my hands on him!” Spencer screams. Morgan and Hotch are quick to come over to him and wrestle him back down into his seat. They know he doesn’t mean it but Spencer thinks he just might. 

“Calm down! You’re scaring her more!” Rossi shouts, seeing you flinch at his outburst and start to cry harder. Spencer calms down instantly at this, regret filling his eyes. 

“So my plan worked. Poor Spencer Reid.”

“Spencer Reid…” You say softly. Spencer sits up at this, looking like a dog about to get a treat. 

“Don’t say his name!”

You flinch at the shout in your ear, wiping at your teary eyes. “I’m sorry,” you croak, feeling sick all over again. Emily looks at the others, clearly worried. JJ sits on the other side of you and offers you a tissue. You give her a nod as thanks, afraid if you thanked her out loud you’d get into trouble. 

“Why don’t we just remove the wiring?” Morgan asks, starting to make his way towards you. 

“No!” you scream at him, putting your hands up. 

“Hey, it’s okay. He won’t do it,” Emily reassures, bringing your hands back down. You nod and slowly lower your hands. She tightly grips one of them in her hands, clearly afraid and upset. 

“Why send her here in the first place?” Hotch asks, studying you with a frown. Rossi sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“To send a message?” he guesses. 

“To torture us. Me,” Spencer mumbles, keeping his head down to help you. Your shaking is slowly starting to settle down but you’re far from calm. You don’t even know why you’re here. 

“Tell them what I did to you. In detail.”

You shake your head violently at this, starting to cry harder. “No…please,” you choke out. 

“Do it or I’ll go take another one! I’ll kill her as soon as I get my hands on her!” he screams in your ear. Your body shakes violently, starting to gag like you’re about to throw up. Morgan goes to quickly get you a trash can when you start heaving. 

Nothing comes up. 

“He hasn’t been feeding her,” Spencer growls, tears streaming from his red eyes. His hands clench into fists, fantasizing of how he wants to torture the man who did this to you. Morgan places his hand on his shoulder, for moral support and to make sure he doesn’t get up to have another fit. 

“He...he brought me...somewhere and tied my hands together. He then...put the middle of the rope on a hook...and brought me into the air...where my toes were the only thing touching the ground. He...pulled out a knife and c-” 

You cut yourself off with sobs, shaking your head. Emily calmly shushes you, wanting to run her hand through your hair but stops herself since she didn’t want your blood on her hand. 

“You don’t have to continue,” JJ reassures softly. 

“Tell them! Now!” You continue to tell them through your sobs and gasps for air. 

“He...cut my clothes off of me...and then he started to cut me...I could barely stay awake from the pain...he’d wake me up by cutting me more…he said he likes to hear me scream...and to watch me cry...” 

Spencer wanted to leave, didn’t want to hear another word. He had to hear what this man did to you though. He needed to know how much pain he needed to double and return to the man. 

“Good girl.” 

You hide your face in your hands, crying into them to hide. You were disgusted. Morgan shakes his head and heavily sits down, his jaw clenched tight. JJ and Emily were crying right along with you, hating to see you in such pain. 

Spencer never stopped crying. His heart breaks a little more with each tear that falls down your face, with each sob that racks your body. He wanted to hug you, to love you until your worries are gone. But you’re afraid of him now. 

“Ready to leave?” 

“No!” you get out with a sob. The others jump, surprised by your outburst. 

Write down what he tells you if you can, Rossi quickly writes down before handing the notepad to you. You shakily pick up the pen, taking a deep breath to try and calm you down. You’re surrounded by the best. They’ll help you. 

He asked me if I’m ready to leave. 

Emily sniffles and wipes at her eyes, knowing good and well her makeup is ruined but couldn’t care less. “Want to call Garcia and tell her you’re okay?” Morgan offers softly. 

“Yeah, she’s been worried about you,” JJ says shakily, taking a tissue to wipe at her eyes and nose. You nod your head, not hearing the man tell you that you couldn’t. Morgan dials her number and puts her on speaker, sliding the phone towards you. 

“Derek? Any news on (Y/n)?” she asks after the first ring. You smile at the sound of her voice, trying to sniffle but finding your nose is too stocked up. Everyone knows she’s the closest to you, besides Spencer, of course. They see him as your boyfriend though, so she’s basically your best friend. 

“Hey, Penelope,” you croak out. She gasps when she hears your voice and you can tell she’s crying. 

“Oh, babycakes! You’re okay! Don’t scare me like that! Let me get a video call up.” 

“No, not right now,” you plead softly. You don’t want her to see you like this. 

“Okay, dear. I’m so glad you’re okay!” she says loudly, making it clear how relieved she is. You silently cry, not wanting to tell her the truth. 

“I’m just fine, sugar. You should see the other guy,” you joke, making her and some of the others laugh weakly. 

“Oh, don’t I know it. You’re a fighter. I knew you’d be just fine.”  

She probably didn’t know that but you weren’t about to call her out on it. “I love you,” you say softly, getting another tissue to wipe at your face. 

“Awe, I love you more! Come home quickly so we can eat our weight in food!” You laugh, more tears falling since you fear that you won’t be able to do that. 

“Will do, my honey bunches of oats.” You hear her sniffle before saying her goodbyes and hanging up. Once the line goes dead, you give Morgan his phone back. 

“Don’t tell her this happened. If I…” you trail off for a moment, trying to stop your crying so you can speak. “If I don’t make it bac-”

“Don’t talk like that,” Spencer interrupts, feeling sick at the thought of you not being okay. Why wouldn’t you be okay? You’re right here! You’re safe now. With him. 

“If I don’t make it back, tell her to not mourn me for too long. She suffers enough as it is. I want her to be happy. That...that goes for all of you,” you croak out, ignoring the man and swallowing thickly. Spencer shakes his head, starting to gag from the need to throw up but just like you, he hasn’t had anything to eat since you went missing. 

“(Y/n), can we show you some pictures?” Emily asks, wiping at her face before pulling your phone out of the evidence bag. You nod your head, confused just like everyone else at what she wants to show you. 

“This is you and Spencer at the beach. He won’t admit this but he coudln’t peel his eyes away from you. This is you two at the library. He dragged you there before you could even agree to go there with him. You two snuggled up in the corner with the bean bags and ended up falling asleep. Security had to kick you two out when they were closing. Here you two are at a candy shop. You kept telling him about all these candies that he’d never had before and you just had to take him there to try them. This one you took right at his desk, sitting on it as if it were your chair,” she says softly, showing you the different pictures. She knows about all of these stories because Spencer is all you talk about when said man isn’t there to hear it. 

Spencer stands up at her words, watching you expectantly. He almost wanted to yell at her for showing you his face, afraid for what your reaction would be. 

A few more tears fall at the pictures but you remain quiet, looking at your smiling face with the man who did this to you. 

“Don’t listen to her!”

You write his words down, making Emily go quiet. She continues to show you pictures on your phone silently, your chest feeling tight. But you were also feeling something else. 

You look away from your phone to the man across the room, looking to his shaking hands before looking to his eyes. You slowly stand up, shocking and worrying everyone. You slowly walk around the table, your eyes on Spencer the whole time. 

You remember your arguments about playing chess. You remember smearing whipped cream on his face from your bowl at an ice cream parlor. You remember him randomly coming up to tickle you despite your warnings and screams of laughter. You remember all of the late-night texts and phone calls. You remember the long road trips you two would take on the weekends when you’d come back home from a case, simply because you wanted to spend more time together. 

You remember your almost kiss that happened two weeks ago. You’d never forget that. 

He doesn’t move from his spot, doesn’t even breathe as he watches you. Did that really work? It must have cause the next second you’re crashing into him with more sobs. He holds you tight, burying his face into a clean part of your hair. 

He’s been wanting to do this since you first left work before you were taken. All he’s wanted is to hold you and reassure himself that you’re just fine. Well, what he really wants is to call you his but one step at a time. 

After you’ve cried everything out, you pull back to look at him. You look like a complete mess and yet he still thinks that you’re beautiful. 

His eyes widen when you tug him down, connecting your lips. Everyone, including the man you're kissing, is shocked, to say the least. You’re just happy your lips aren’t bloody. Spencer returns the kiss instantly, holding you tightly against him. 

“Why is everyone so quiet?”

You pull away at the sound of the voice, panting softly and staring up at Spencer. “I love you,” you say before you can chicken out. As soon as the words are out, you hear screaming in your ear loud enough for Spencer to hear. 

“No! Get out of there now! Leave!” the man roars. 

At this, you try to pull away from Spencer to follow orders. “No! You aren’t leaving! Why would you leave?” Spencer asks, starting to panic. He’s never felt panic like this before. The first time he lost you was bad enough but this was even worse. 

“I have to! Please! Let me go!” you say quickly, afraid of what would happen if you didn’t leave now. 

“No! You’re staying here! I’m not letting you out of my sight!” Spencer replies quickly. The others wanted to help but they didn’t know who to help. On one hand, he’s right. Why would they let you leave again? You’re safe here. On the other hand, though, they don’t know what happens if you stay here. 

“He’ll take someone else and kill them if I don’t!” you shout, struggling against the handsome man. 

“I don’t care!” Spencer screams, making your body go still. You gape up at him, surprised he’d say such a thing. You weren’t the only one. 

“Spenc-” you start, ready to talk him down. 

“No! I don’t care! Call me selfish! I don’t care! I’m not losing you, (Y/n)!” He starts to cry again, shaking his head as he holds you to him in a hug. “I can’t lose you. I won’t,” he stutters out, his body shaking violently. 

“Leave now or I’ll kill someone else!” 

“Spence, he won’t kill me. I can’t put someone else’s life in danger,” you reassure, slowly pulling away from him. You don’t actually know he won’t kill you but you couldn’t live with yourself if you got someone else killed. Knowing he’s going to argue, you pull him down into another kiss. 

“You have five minutes to get into my van or else I take another hostage!” 

You pull away again and walk over to the notepad, turning to a new page before starting to write information down. “I’ll come. Just give me one more minute with them,” you beg. 

6’0. Long, brown hair. Icy blue eyes. Pale. Missing top third tooth on the right. Scar on collarbone and face. Has a white van. Kept me in a barn. 

You set the notepad back onto the table with a smile before starting to walk around and give everyone a hug. When you reach Spencer, you give him the longest hug. He then quickly kisses you, putting as much love and passion as he can muster into it. When you both pull away, he quickly snatches up the notepad and writes something onto it. 

I love you more than you’ll ever know. I’ll find you. Never give up hope. He will pay. 

He shows it to you, trying not to cry and keep a brave face for you. You smile and nod your head, shakily brushing some hair out of his eyes. “Bye, guys. See you later, yeah?” you say shakily. Spencer grabs your hand and slowly starts to lead you to the door, hating himself for letting you walk right out of here without him to help you. He’ll have to help you from here. 

“I’ll buy you a new jacket,” you promise, new tears starting to gather in your eyes. He can only shake his head, his throat tightening from trying not to cry. It’s a losing battle. 

“If she knows what he looks like and where she was taken, we don’t need to take her back. We can easily arrest him,” Morgan says quietly to the others once you and Spencer are far enough away. 

“We let her walk away and then we follow them,” Hotch promises. The others nod and go back to watching you and Spencer. They find you two kissing again, their hearts aching a bit. You two have been pining for each other for who knows how long and you can only admit your feelings when your life is put on the line. 

You tense up and pull away, everyone figuring out that then man is talking to you again. You give Spencer a reassuring smile before walking out, following the man’s instructions to his car. They watch you go through the windows before slipping out the back door to get to their cars. They watch you walk into a car garage, a curse escaping Spencer. 

Morgan calls Garcia and asks her if she can spot you on any of the cameras in the garage. While she’s searching, a white van pulls out and Hotch tells Rossi to follow it. “She said he had a white van. Everyone else, wait for Garcia to confirm.” 

Turns out he was right. Hotch drives several cars behind the van, not wanting to be seen. Rossi says into his mic on what roads they’re taking so they weren’t all packed onto the same road at once. They’d easily be caught that way. 

Spencer was growing more restless by the second. “Can’t you go faster, Morgan? We don’t-” 

“Reid, I know you’re worried about (Y/n) but we have to keep our heads,” he interrupts, keeping his eyes on the road and intently listening to Rossi’s instructions. Spencer sighs and nods his head, staring out the windshield. He knows he’s right. 

Soon enough, the van pulls off onto a dirt road. Hotch pulls off to the side of the road and waits for the rest of the team to arrive before slowly driving down the dirt road. The dirt road goes on for about a mile before leading to a cabin with a barn off to the side. 

Right in front of the barn is the van. 

They all park and silently open the doors, making sure to leave the doors open to keep from making noise. Before anyone can do anything else, Spencer is already taking off to the barn. 

“Reid!” Hotch hisses, quickly following after him. Luckily, Spencer stops at the barn doors and bends down before peeking into one of the barn’s windows. He watches as the man starts to hang you up again, his coat undone and showing your bloody body. 

His blood boils all over again at the sight. 

What makes him snap is when the man starts to trace over your bare skin with his hands, tears welling up in your eyes. Before anyone can stop him, Spencer raises his gun and shoots the man straight through his head. 

You gasp when the man’s blood splatters onto you, your body shaking violently now that you aren’t trying to hold it back. You look to the shattered window to see Spencer with his gun raised. Did he kill the man? 

Everyone runs in after the gunshot rings out, Spencer leading the way and heading right towards you. Everyone, including Spencer himself, is shocked that he killed the man. He doesn’t think about it though as he helps you down and wraps his arms around you. 

“I’m never letting you go,” he murmurs into your ear as you both hold onto each other for dear life. Rossi spots all your missing items from your room, telling Hotch about it. You could care less about that stuff though. You don’t want any of it anymore. 

“I love you. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t protect you,” Spencer cries into your hair. You shake your head, pulling away to look up at a blurry Spencer, the tears blocking your vision. 

“Don’t apologize. There’s nothing you could’ve done. You’re here for me now, just like you’ve always been,” you reassure, gently cupping his face. He smiles and quickly leans down to give you a sweet kiss. 

He wasn’t joking when he said he wouldn’t let you go. From the barn, to the police station, to the jet, and even back in Virginia, he had held onto you. Whether that be his hand holding yours, his arm wrapped around you, or however else he could touch you. It didn’t matter. 

He never left you alone once and you couldn’t be more thankful to have someone like him in your life.

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[florenceandthemachine]

hear your heartbeat

happy birthday to the incomparable @elisela!!! just for you, please enjoy a good fake-dating au with plenty of idiotic and family members abound.

12.5k - on Ao3

—————

“I’m telling you, Scotty. New York has been good to me. Maybe we should just renounce California and stay here for the summer.”

“Don’t joke about that, dude.”

Stiles laughed as he shouldered his phone, taking in the city air as he strolled along the streets of Manhattan.

Needless to say, Manhattan was far from home—while the city certainly was his vibe, Stiles was no stranger to tamping down the champagne tastes that clashed with his tapwater budget. The little shitbox apartment he got through NYU’s housing program was almost a thirty minute train ride from school, but Stiles figured that when he was more or less trapped on campus for nearly fifty hours a week, he could justify spending his breaks wandering the streets of Manhattan and really taking in the city.

On today’s agenda, Stiles was looking forward to wandering around a farmers market that literally stretched on for city blocks. There were fruits and vegetables literally as far as the eye could see, spices and roots and mysterious tubers of all shapes and size, but Stiles didn’t give a flying fuck about the food—his real interest were the vendors and the shoppers.

He had learned early on that open air markets like this were perfect meeting grounds for mythical beasts of all shapes and sizes, so, what better palace for him to do some… field work, so to speak?

There were nymphs who had full bouquets of beautiful flowers that lived suspiciously long in their vases as long as you complimented the blooms on a regular basis. Dryads who sold the most delicious fruit he had ever tasted, even if they charged six bucks for a pear.

Stiles had learned early on to avoid the fae—basically, any stand that sold crystal or metalcraft. His first time at the market, he had somehow wound up spending nearly four hundred dollars on quartz; the moment the money had left his hand, the stall had all but vanished in front of him.

“The people are good here. They’re fast. Blunt. Sarcastic. My kind of people.”

“Uh huh.”

Scott liked to call their whole situation lucky.

When Stiles applied to NYU’s doctorate program, he expected rounds and rounds of interviews, lists of deadlines he needed to memorize, and some less-than-subtle digs at his proposed field of study (which was fair, honestly—he knew that criminology and mythology rarely mixed).

What he didn’t expect was Scott, though, the bro of all bros. When Stiles told him he was applying to NYU, Scott had cheered him on, helped him prepare, and then immediately applied to different veterinary positions through the state.

(Scott was golden, obviously—he had years of training, letters of recommendation from everyone he had ever met, and him being a werewolf basically made him the animal whisperer.)

At the end of the day, Stiles got to pursue his passion thanks to a hodgepodge of grants at NYU, and Scott was awarded a fellowship in veterinary medicine through the Bronx Zoo. What kind of weird twist of luck would let the best friends wind up together across the country like that?

So, yeah, Scott called it luck.

Stiles called it karmic retribution for their supremely fucked-up years at Beacon Hills High, but even he could admit that ‘luck’ sounded nicer... and if Stiles was being honest, ‘luck’ was definitely the best way to classify his meeting Derek Hale.

Derek Hale was smart, he was sarcastic, and he could go toe-to-toe with Stiles over completely obscure things for literal hours. He was a first-year professor at NYU, who had the tiny office right next to the broom closet Stiles had managed to shove PHD desk into, and he was probably the only other person in the program that took mythology seriously (meaning he was the only person who didn’t make Stiles want to put his head through the wall).

He was also hot as fuck, but that was beside the point. Stiles had a little bit of a massive crush, but that was also beside the point.

They had built up a fast friendship based on a series of arguments about the Necronomicon, of all things, and Stiles loved the thought of being friends with someone who didn’t know him as the weird kid in high school who knew way too much about ritual sacrifice and circumcision.

He had evened out a lot through undergrad. He was still awkward, sure, but he was awkward with a refillable prescription for Adderall and some sort of brain-to-mouth filter.

(Honestly, the fact that Stiles had managed to avoid making a single joke about the werewolf who was stuck teaching Mythology 101 really did speak volumes to his newfound maturity.)

Speaking of Derek, though…

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

Stiles almost jumped a foot in the air as he heard his name called, doing a spectacular near-drop-mid-air-catch of his phone as he regained his footing, turning on the spot to see a taller woman with jet black hair waving him over.

She was… okay, she was gorgeous—dark hair, smooth skin, someone who looked like she just stepped out of one of the windows on Fifth Avenue—but Stiles was decently distracted, because standing beside her was Derek Hale, the object of his extremely private affection for the past few months. Who, for whatever reason, was standing there looking like he wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow him whole.

“Scotty, I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I gotta go.”

Stiles pocketed his phone as he cautiously made his way over to the pair—trio, he corrected, because there was another woman with them, looking incredibly more invested in the conversation now that another party was joining them.

He hiked his canvas a bit higher up as he smiled, trying to remember where he had seen the two before… students, maybe, but if that were the case, they would know Derek, not Stiles. They weren’t faculty members, he was sure of that. Donors to the program, maybe?

Well, if they were donors, Stiles sincerely hoped that Derek would have tried harder to wear literally any expression other than his current ‘bitter and miserable’.

And if they were donors, why were they so fucking happy to see him?

“I’m Laura. This is Cora.”

The taller of the two women extended her hand confidently as Stiles got within arms reach, and he instinctively reached out to take it, Cora following suit. “Derek has told us all about you. I have to say, I figured there was at least a ten percent chance you were made up, but… here you are!”

“Here I am!” Stiles was officially lost, but he kept his smile up, cheeks pinking up a little bit as he turned back to Derek. “You’ve been talking about me?” he asked, his voice on the line between flattered and teasing, nudging Derek playfully as he tilted his head.

“Stiles, I—“

“Of course he has! Derek’s a private guy, sure, but you can’t be surprised he told us about his new—“

“Laura—”

“Lord, Derek, calm down. You already had your big bisexual awakening, I’m allowed to be excited to meet your first boyfriend.” Laura shot back, her glare rivaling Derek’s absolute best ‘listen to teacher’ look, and Stiles could see the muscle in his jaw start to twitch. He probably would have done something, but… he was basically short circuiting, brain trying to keep up with whatever the fuck Laura had said, because Derek now had his arm around Stiles’ waist.

Derek had a big bisexual awakening?

And a boyfriend, apparently?

How had Stiles missed that??

“Stiles, these are my sisters, Laura and Cora Hale.”

Okay, great, they were Derek’s sisters. Stiles didn’t even know that Derek had sisters, which was a little sad if he thought about it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have long to think about it, because Derek—

“This is Stiles, my… my boyfriend. Now stop bombarding him. Give him half a fucking second before you go a thousand miles an hour.”

Oh—oh God. Stiles was the boyfriend.

He had seriously missed something, then—he didn’t think he had confessed his feelings for Derek anytime recently, or he probably would have died from embarrassment. Scott was really good at hiding his phone when he was drinking, which ruled that entire scenario out. Stiles could be forgetful at times, sure, but he thought he would remember if he had managed to score himself a boyfriend.

He looked up at Derek, trying to ignore the sudden burn of contact where their bodies were pressed together, but his brain was extremely focused the moment that he caught the look on Derek’s face, there and gone in a flash. He felt the hand squeeze at his waist, and the message was clear enough.

Please.

Ah, well. Stiles was always good at bullshitting, and this was no exception.

“No, no, Der, it’s fine! It’s good to meet you both, sorry, I wasn’t even expecting to see Derek until… uh, later, let alone meet anyone new,” Stiles said, his voice 100% betraying his nerves as it picked up an octave.

Laura’s voice was much more evenly toned, even if it was a little teasing. “Oh? You two have big plans tonight? We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” she said with a grin, giving the distinct impression that even if they were interrupting, she and her sister wouldn’t be leaving until they were good and ready. Stiles felt his mind kick into overdrive, waving the question aside.

“Oh, nothing like that. We were going to meet up with my friend Scott for dinner, introducing the boyfriend to the best friend, you know how it is,” he continued, hoping his little chuckle wasn’t too terribly fake as he reached up to pat the lapels of Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers linger a little too long on Derek’s chest as he nodded.

He hoped that she knew how it was. Hell, Stiles didn’t even know how it was. He hadn’t exactly been rolling in romance since moving across the country.

“Well, if you say so,” Laura mused, raising a perfect brow, head tilted to the side. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Stiles. You alright?”

And, okay, Stiles knew enough to know what that meant. It meant that her super-sonic ears could hear his heart trying to break through his ribs with a staccato beat, typically a tell-tale sign that someone was lying, but… maybe he could work that to his advantage. He swallowed, voice a little tight as he laughed, waving the concern away.

“Sorry, I just wasn't… planning on meeting the family today,” Stiles said, probably the most truthful thing he had ever said. “Usually I’d try to prepare a little more, you know, make sure I’m wearing something nice and avoid putting my entire foot in my mouth. Maybe just a toe or two,” he said, relaxing minutely as Cora snorted from her position near Laura’s elbow.

Okay, so self depreciation was a good way to avoid suspicion with all the Hales. Got it.

“Well, if you both have plans, I’ll make this quick,” Laura said, her voice deceptively charming as she sidled up next to Stiles, though he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the way Derek’s hand tightened around his waist. “The semester is up soon, what are your plans this summer? Never mind, move them back. We’re having a family reunion the week after finals, and everyone is dying to meet baby brother Derek’s new boo after all the stories he’s told.”

…stories?

He looked up to Derek again, who was now blushing up to the tips of his ears, which—okay, cute—but which told him absolutely nothing and offered him exactly zero defense.

“Actually, I already have a flight booked as soon as my spring contract is up. Heading back to Beacon Hills for a few days, and—“

“Wait, did Derek already invite you?” Laura asked, her expression pleasantly surprised, and Stiles was speechless for a half second before Derek stepped in.

“No, I didn’t invite him because I’m not even going, Laura. Besides, he has his own plans with his own family,” he said, and Stiles blinked as he tried to keep up. “And what do you mean, they’re excited to meet him? I was very clear that the further I can keep him away from you and Mom, the better.”

Laura only rose a brow as she turned back to Cora, who took a beat before looking up from her phone, her expression halfway guilty as she clutched the device. “I uh—I may have just sent a picture of you two to the family group chat.”

Stiles choked on a laugh as Derek gasped—actually gasped—and pulled his phone from his pocket, making the mistake of releasing Stiles’ shoulder to unlock the device, looking absolutely scandalized as he glared at Cora.

It wasn’t long before Stiles had a similar look on his face, though, as Laura took advantage of his free arm, linking her own with his as she started to walk. “Alright, Stiles, here’s the deal.”

“Cora, you little—hey! Laura, get back here with my boyfriend!”

“Calm down little brother, the adults are talking.”

“He’s younger than I am!”

“So, Stiles, like I was saying,” Laura started, oblivious or ignorant to the way Stiles' mind had absolutely reeled when Derek had called him his boyfriend for the second time. “Derek hasn’t been home for more than a day visit since he moved out to this dump, and no one has raised a stink about it in years. This year, though, is… important,” she started, and Stiles nodded idly as he mentally ran through the calendar in his head.

The semester was over in just over a week, with finals crammed into three days after that, and then—oh, the full moon.

No, Stiles corrected himself, the blue moon. The first blue moon in May in probably… thirty years, if he had to guess. He nodded up to Laura as that clicked into place, a flicker of curiosity crossing over her face as she continued talking.

“We won’t take up that much of your time—it’s only like two events, I promise, and I also promise Derek will personally take care of whatever flight changes you have to make so you can still get some time with your family. After all, it’s not your fault my bonehead brother tried to exclude you until now.”

“I’m not a bonehead!” Derek said, his tone of voice just exasperated enough that Stiles sighed, carefully extracting himself from Laura’s grasp as they slowed to a stop near the curb of Fifth Avenue, the noise from the farmers market blending in with the sound of traffic as he turned back to Derek.

“Alright, hang on, hold up,” Stiles started, his tone firm enough to stop the three wolves in their tracks, Derek and Laura wearing matching expressions of surprise as they stopped in their tracks—even Cora was peeking over her phone, clearly interested, and Stiles couldn’t blame them. It had probably been a long time since either of them had been stopped by a human.

“Laura, Derek is not a bonehead. He’s smart, and he’s sweet, and he’s very kind, and it’s okay that he’s a little more private. Yeah, he’s also a stubborn asshole, but… well, that’s one of the reasons I like him so much,” Stiles said, the first genuine smile in the entire conversation gracing his face as he looked at Derek again. “But you know your brother. Did you really think that catching him off guard across the country in person was going to be the best way to convince him to visit?”

He was fine taking their silence as an answer, honestly.

“Now, Derek, that being said, I… if you are comfortable with it, I can rearrange my plans and come down with you. If you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too. Meeting the family—at least, the rest of the family—is a very big step,” he continued, his words very pointed.

(Yes, Derek, meeting the family would be a very big step for someone you weren’t even dating, please pick up on the subliminal messaging here.)

“But even if you’re not comfortable with me being there, I think you should still go down. I’ll get to spend plenty of time with my dad, you shouldn’t have to be all alone up here while I’m gone.”

Moving to smooth over the lapels on Derek’s jacket again, Stiles only barely tampered down a noise of surprise as Derek intercepted his hands, pleasantly shocked by how easily Derek’s warm, smooth fingers slipped between his own lanky digits.

Stiles felt his cheeks pinks up as he cleared his throat, doing his best to act normal, because he was… well, he wasn’t lying. He had absolutely thought about Derek being alone here in New York while Stiles was gone, but that was more in the sense that Stiles would miss him.

He just didn’t know that Derek might be missing some family, too.

Besides, he may not have known that much about the intricacies of a normal, family pack, but Stiles knew enough to know that a big event like this would probably be good for Derek, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Even if Derek was going to reject his offer and go down alone.

…because Derek was going to reject him.

Derek was going to reject him, right?

Stiles had been fairly sure of that when he offered, but judging by the way Derek couldn’t meet his eyes after something as simple as holding hands, Stiles might have just fucked himself over. Derek opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally let out a huff of air and looked up, doing a remarkably good impression of a guilty animal as he looked at Stiles.

“…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Fuck.

“Derek, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Stiles said, and that much was at least true—but before he could say anything else, Laura was squealing in his ear, wrapping both of them up in a hug so tight Stiles almost had to remind her that he was human, but he was able to breathe again as the car next to the curb chirped.

“Thank God, Stiles, thank you for getting through to him! Oh, Nana is gonna flip out when she hears who’s coming—Derek, you know you’ve always been her favorite—Stiles, do you have any dietary restrictions? Derek, send me his number, and—no, Cora, you are not driving us back to the airport, move your ass—“

Stiles looked up to Derek, his expression somewhere between bemused and fearful as Laura rambled on, but… well, the apologetic look that Derek had on his face wasn’t much reassurance.

“—and Stiles, you’re going to love Beacon Hills. Bye boys! See you in two weeks!”

Stiles was left, partially shellshocked as Derek’s hand slipped from his own, the need for the facade no longer essential as the shiny silver rental car pulled into traffic.

“… Derek, since when the fuck are you from Beacon Hills?”

—————

“Scotty, stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

“Dude, are you kidding me? This is hilarious.”

Stiles groaned as he shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, ignoring the burning sensation that spread across his tongue as he tried to pack as much melted cheese as he could into one bite.

Scott’s apartment had been their go-to for the entire time he and Stiles had been in the city—not because it was huge and glamorous, not by any means, but Scott’s shoebox had a door between the bathroom and the living room, and therefore it was the best place for bro-time by default.

Stiles had loudly complained about the entire situation when he and Derek showed up on Scott’s stoop, firmly planting himself in his favorite of Scott’s chairs—the ‘old man’ recliner next to Scott’s little television, the game on screen forgotten as he recalled their harrowed tale.

“Stiles, if you weren’t comfortable with it, why even… okay, no, don’t you dare answer me until you swallow,” Derek snapped, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he swallowed a few times, sticking his tongue out at Derek once his mouth was empty.

“Good. Thank you for pretending to be an adult. Now, why did you even offer if it wasn’t something you were comfortable with.”

Because it was supposed to just be a gesture, Derek. Because I didn’t realize you would take it as a serious offer, Derek. Because you were supposed to say no, Derek.

… because I didn’t want you to be alone, Derek.

Honestly, as surprised as Stiles was that Derek took him up on his poorly-timed moment of goodness, he was even more surprised that after Laura drove off, when he numbly asked if Derek wanted to come over to Scott’s for some pizza, Derek actually said yes.

Derek Hale was being social. Alert the media.

(Well… maybe ‘social’ was stretching it a bit—Stiles didn’t know if it was a territory thing or what, but Derek had turned hilariously, awkwardly stiff the moment he stepped inside Scott’s apartment.)

“I offered because I’m nice, dick, but don’t even think that you can turn this on me. Derek, they knew my name. They knew what I looked like. And yeah, I mean, I’m a complete catch and all—oh fuck off, Scotty—but what in the actual, literal fuck?”

Stiles didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Derek got even more tense, shoulders tightening up toward his ears as he looked down. It took a moment before he answered, but Stiles knew by then that Derek usually had to… wind himself up to talk about some things.

“My mother lives on the opposite end of the country, and even then, she still managed to set up twenty four blind dates for me last year. Twenty four, Stiles. That’s basically one every other week. Do you have any idea how much small talk that is? And how much I hate small talk?”

Yes, Stiles thought, to both of those questions. He would never admit this out loud, of course, but thinking about one of the most intensely private people that he knew stuck at some shitty little coffee shop trying to chat with some random female on behalf of his mother was hilarious to a degree he couldn’t fathom.

It definitely wasn’t a redirection of his own… personal feelings that may or may not be directed at Derek. Not at all. Nope.

“So, around the time the spring semester started, when my mother let slide that she had passed along my number to yet another perfectly eligible barista, or something, I panicked and told her I had a boyfriend. And then she asked for a photo, and the most recent one on my phone was that selfie you sent miming your own death in the stacks, so…”

“Oh fuck, Derek,” Stiles started, downing the last of his beer. “Your big bisexual awakening wasn’t just you trying to get out of your mom setting you up on dates, right?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, ass,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “The two events were completely separate.”

Stiles laughed at the thought, but even then, his mind was reeling. If this wasn’t a recent discovery, how in the fuck did Stiles miss that for so long?

“Well, you’re lucky Scotty and I had a flight booked anyway. I won’t let you face them alone, not when you have a picture perfect boyfriend to show off now—what role should I take on? Doting, love struck fool? Rebel without a care? Some sad forlorn loser who… okay, no, that one is too close to home.”

Scott stood up and laughed as Derek glared at Stiles again, but it didn’t take a genius to see the tiny smile on his face, or the way his shoulders eased as he leaned back into the couch.

“Alright, this is getting too intense a conversation while the game is on. Want another beer, Stiles? You, Derek?”

Stiles made a vaguely affirming noise as he wove his hand in Scott’s direction, eyes drawn back to Derek yet again as the other wolf politely declined, his own attention affixed to the television as the game picked back up.

Derek was… not a particularly expressive person, Stiles knew, and part of that was because Derek had what Stiles affectionately called ‘resting grumpy face’; at least, he did privately, because the one time he said it out loud Derek had thrown the Encyclopaedia of Demomorgons at his head.

So, to the outsider looking in, Derek might have just seemed uninterested in the game; but Stiles had been watching Derek work for the better part of a semester, and he knew perfectly well how to tell when Derek’s resting grumpy face formed an actual frown. Which it did. Because apparently, the Mets had personally offended him.

“I’m sorry, are you seriously glaring at the Mets? While they’re winning?”

Derek leveled Stiles with the most unimpressed glare he could as Scott laughed from his kitchen, walking back into the living room with two beers. “God, I hope he was. It would be nice to have someone with taste in the apartment for once.”

“Scotty!” Stiles gasped, clutching his heart as Scott handed him a beer, extending the claw on his thumb to pop the top off before he handed the bottle over. “The Mets are a treasure, okay? If God lived in New York, she’d be a Mets fan. I have suffered much for my Mets in my lifetime, and they—woah, Derek, you okay?”

Stiles’ charming cliches would have to wait, because when he looked over to Derek, his humor dropped immediately. Derek had gone white as a sheet, jaw slack as he stared at the beer in Stiles’ hand.

He stared back and forth between Scott and Derek, trying to figure what the hell had just happened; it wasn’t until he watched Scott pop the top off of his own beer, looking between the two of them, did Stiles put two and two together.

“Derek, you… you had to know that Scott was a were, right? Like, you had to. He—Scotty doesn’t do subtle.”

“Me?! Stiles, you called me a wet dog for like a month after I fell into the Hudson.”

Derek let out a sort of choked noise as he shut his mouth, coming back into himself as a bit of pink dusted his pale cheeks, hands moving in front of his face. “Of—of course I knew, but—you knew?!”

“Dude, I’m studying mythical lore and criminology. I’m the one who taught this furry fucker how to control himself. Of course I knew, I... oh my god. You didn’t know that I knew—uh, that I know.”

Matching looks of realization dawned on Scott and Stiles’ face as Stiles stood up, putting the beer down on the coffee table. He moved next to Derek as he sat down on the couch, keeping his movement slow, reaching out to pat Derek’s leg like he was a frail old lady.

“Derek, I know.”

After what felt like an age and a half, Derek melted into the couch, a huge sigh leaving his lips as all the tension in his body bled out like a string had been cut, burying his head in his hands.

“We’ve had arguments about wolves in pop culture. I’ve offered to help you out with your coursework every full moon for, like, the entire semester. Dude, you had to know that I knew, there’s no way I didn’t—Derek!” Stiles felt his giddy laughter bubble over as Derek shot him a red-eyed glare through his fingers, his scowl somehow less intimidating now that everything was out in the open.

Okay, Derek wasn’t just a wolf, he was an alpha. That was… interesting.

“God, you two really are perfect fake boyfriends. Two halves of a whole idiot. Derek, are you sure you don’t want a beer? Or maybe something stronger, if you have to deal with Stiles?” Scott said easily, laughing as Stiles immediately protested, though the way Stiles eased himself next to Derek wasn’t exactly subtle, either.

—————

Scott may have been joking, but by the time finals had come and gone, Stiles had accepted the fact that he would have to forgo booze and opt for a mainline of caffeine to keep up with Derek. How one person remained so meticulously organized, Stiles would never know—but in the amount of time it took for Stiles to wrap up his grant work for the semester, Derek had given four exams, proctored three more, cleaned out his office, and shared the updated flight itinerary with Stiles.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Stiles had said, tripping over an empty box in his tiny office as Derek handed him his updated boarding pass. “Why do we have to change our flights? Scott and I are already booked, you can probably just join us, right?”

Derek rose a perfectly sculpted brow as he tapped the ticket again, shaking his head. “Hey, I promised you’d spend as few days as possible with my family, and I intend to keep that promise. The sooner we get in, the sooner we start that clock, the sooner you get to spend the rest your time with your dad.”

Stiles blinked as he looked down to the itinerary, eyes scanning over the earlier time—and it was non-stop too. That would be a bit killer on the legs, but Stiles could handle that, maybe he could take some time to sleep or pester Derek for...

“Uh, Derek... this ticket is for first class.”

“I know, Stiles, I booked it.”

“Dude, there’s a reason Scott and I booked an economy ticket with a layover in Bismarck. There’s no way I can pay you back for this.”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be... maybe not dead, but at least set on fire. Derek sighed, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not paying me back, dumbass. You’re already doing a ton for me with this little... charade, the least I can do is make sure your frail human body—“

“Hey!”

”—is comfortable in a lie flat seat.”

“Look, I appreciate that, but I’m not leaving Scott alone on his flight in coach just because of our... fake... whatever.”

Stiles’ voice trailed off in curiosity as Derek sighed, his cheeks pink as he pulled the paper out of Stiles’ hand, pointing to the second half of the sheet—where MCCALL, SCOTT had been printed in big, bold letters, that Stiles had completely ignored.

“... you got Scott a ticket too?”

“Of course I did. He’s your best friend, I wasn’t going to ask you to leave him behind just for me. Besides, who do you think I got your information from to book the flight?” Derek said dryly, as though his deadpan delivery could cancel out the ruddy color to his cheeks, or the way that Stiles’ stomach flip flopped when the reality of that sunk in.

It was nice that Derek acknowledged the importance of their friendship, in the way that tugged at the little space right beneath his sternum, but something about the way Derek so quickly dismissed himself was... concerning.

Stiles couldn’t help but play that little bit of their conversation over in his head as he packed, as he hopped on the train, as he met up with Scott and Derek in security.

Scott, bless his heart, was absolutely elated—his excitement was almost tangible as they dropped off luggage, walked through security, and stood around at the boarding gate. Derek had to smack the both of them to get them to stand up when first class was called to board, and Stiles idly wondered if Derek regretted associating himself with them when he and Scott managed to trip in sync as they went down the jetway.

Derek and Stiles were seated together, of course, and once Stiles got over the novelty of not having a middle seat on a plane, he liked to imagine he fit right in—easing back into the seat, enjoying the comfort of the little blanket he had been given, grinning at the flight attendant as she checked in with them.

(Scott was one row ahead and across the aisle, close enough that Stiles could lean forward and smack him if he wanted to... but the moment Stiles saw his seat mate, a pretty woman with dark hair and impeccable eyeliner, he knew his best bro would be on a different planet for the entirety of the flight.)

His grin slipped a little bit, though, as he thought back to the conversation surrounding the tickets, and he looked up to Derek as he settled in a bit further.

“So, we never went over what role I should be taking on.”

“Stiles, just be yourself. You’re funny enough, and you generally mean well, they’ll love who you are.”

Yeah… who he was. Well, who he was was someone who was going to be dangerously invested in a fake relationship that would probably end terribly for him, so that was fun. He sighed as he settled into the seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he debated on where to go from here.

No time like a non stop plane ride to have a potentially awkward conversation, right?

“Dude, we’re friends, right?”

“We’re fake boyfriends, don’t call me dude.”

Derek’s tone was teasing as he flipped through his SkyMall, a small smile on his face, and Stiles felt a little bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders as he buckled in.

“First of all, I have called many boyfriends ‘dude’ before,” Stiles started, ignoring Derek’s snort of laughter, “and I’m being serious. We... we are friends, right?”

Be it his words or his awkward energy, Derek looked up, surprise on his face as he closed the magazine and stowed it away as the plane bumped down the taxiway.

“Of course we are, Stiles. You’re like... the only person I talk to at work outside of teaching, that’s light years ahead of most of New York as a whole.”

“I mean, I’m glad to hear, I just...” Stiles chewed on his lip as he turned in his seat, weirdly soothed by the roar of the engines as the takeoff roll started. “You know about my dad, and about my school, and about Scott, and those are basically the three important things in my life,” he started, letting out a sigh as Derek just stared at him blankly.

“It’s fine that you’re a private person, I can respect that... seriously, I may not understand it, but I can respect it,” Stiles said, grinning as Derek shot him a look, lowering his voice again as he leaned over the divider between them. “But I didn’t know that you were from my hometown, too. Or that you had sisters, let alone other family. I should have asked, I guess, but... you know you can talk to me about things, yeah? Even after all this is over, you’ll always be Derek to me. Not just another Hale.”

Stiles’ was smiling as he gently bumped Derek’s shoulder with his own, watching the way different emotions warred over his face, biting back on the urge to babble on so he could give Derek the time he needed to respond.

“We’re... we are friends, Stiles. We are.” Derek insisted, looking down to his linked hands as the plane continued to rise. “Sometimes, I just... I’m not great about talking about myself.”

For a while, Stiles thought that was all he was going to get, and honestly, he was fine with it—it wasn’t until the fasten seatbelt sign chimed off and the flight attendants passed out little bottles of water that Derek spoke again, his voice low as he cleared his throat.

“My family is huge. Like, big enough that we need spreadsheets and flowcharts to organize family events like this. I know they love me, and I love them too, of course I do, but I made some really, really stupid decisions when I was younger… I know they forgave me for it, but...”

Derek sighed, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?”

No, Stiles didn’t know. He only had his dad and Scott growing up, but he nodded his head encouragingly as he took a sip of his water.

“I actually have four siblings. Mark is the oldest, and then Taylor, and I’m right between Laura and Cora. They’re betas, like my dad; my mom and I are both alphas, her mom, too…” Derek continued, and Stiles smiled as he settled into his seat.

By the time the flight landed, Stiles’ head was full to the brim with Hale family trivia, names, faces, teasing stories, and the warmth that had danced across Stiles’ chest for the past year or so had bloomed into a full-on fire.

Would it lead to his downfall? Probably.

But when he saw how Derek smiled when he remembered Mark’s graduating medical school, or heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Laura’s charity work, and the genuine joy he got to see when he heard another story about Derek’s childhood… well, that was all more than worth it.

—————

“I think you should kiss me.”

Stiles had to stop himself from laughing at the look that Derek shot him, doing his best to keep his body language casual as he leaned against the gas pump at a tiny station outside of Beacon Hills, though he knew his heart was going at about a million miles a minute.

“I—you—what?”

“Derek, I’m an affectionate dude, in case you couldn’t tell from all the hand holding. And if you’re going to freak out if I kiss your cheek, then you should freak out now, not when we’re in front of your family.”

Stiles knew full well his heart betrayed his confidence, but seeing Derek’s ears go pink as he dumped the armful of snacks Stiles had asked for into the back seat was a welcome sight—it was always nice to know that Derek’s cool and controlled exterior could be ruffled up once in a while.

Somewhere between the rental kiosk and the gas station, Stiles had decided that he was going to go all in on this. His little crush was already stuck right in the back of his throat and would be unlikely to dislodge any time soon, so he figured that indulging himself in the fake relationship Derek had set up for him… well, it wouldn’t do any good, but it was unlikely to make things worse for him than it already was.

It was a little weird being alone with Derek—Stiles didn’t realize it until now, but between meeting Derek’s sisters and meeting the rest of their family, this was the first time they had been alone together. They had other staff members at school, or strangers around the city, or Scott (who had politely declined a ride back to Beacon Hills with Derek and Stiles, choosing instead to split an Uber with his pretty new friend, Kira).

“You know, as far as first kisses go, usually they’re a little more romantic than just a demand. You’re supposed to woo me, Stiles,” Derek said, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his shy little smile as he pulled the nozzle out of his tank, closing the gas cap as Stiles gasped in mock offense.

“Hey, I said you should kiss me, not the other way around. Why should I have to be the one to woo?” Stiles started, sliding into the passenger’s seat as Derek followed suit. “After all, this relationship wouldn’t have even happened without your instigation, so why should I… uh… Der?”

Stiles’ voice trailed off as Derek’s hand sunk into the soft crook at the juncture of his neck, effectively cutting off his entire train of thought as Derek’s thumb pressed against the hollow of his jaw.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-Okay.”

For a minute, all Stiles could think of were those cheesy old rom-coms, where fireworks would go off, or bells would chime, but kissing Derek was nothing like that. It was the comfort of wrapping yourself in an electric blanket, instead of the shock of jumping into a frozen pond; the familiar buzz of goosebumps over his skin over a bolt of lightning. He felt a surprised little noise leave his chest as Derek’s tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out instinctively to drag along Derek’s bottom lip, hands coming up to rest against the wolves chest.

Stiles could feel his heart beating through every inch of his skin as the kiss broke, struggling to remind himself how to breathe as he opened his eyes again, his nose brushing against Derek’s as he let out a little huff of a laugh.

“Was that enough woo for you?” Derek asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Stiles smiled as he nodded his head, savoring the way that neither of them moved back. Derek’s hand was warm against the crook of his jaw, his own palm flat against Derek's chest, and it was natural, it was so nice, it was—

Fake. It was all fake.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as he gently leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, that mantra playing through his head as he pulled himself back. He buckled himself in easily as he took in a deep breath, his goofy grin still in place as he looked back up to Derek.

“See? Now you can honestly tell your mom we had our first kiss at a gas station and that it was magical and I totally rocked your world.”

“Is that what happened, though? I mean, if you wanted me to kiss you so badly, you should have just asked,” Derek said, the sarcasm thick in his voice as he started the car, and Stiles laughed as they pulled out of the lot, his hand finding Derek’s easily once again.

Their silence remained comfortable as they left the city skyline behind and basically blew through Beacon Hills, the trees inching closer to the road as they wound through the preserve.

Finishing off a bag of M&M’s, Stiles cleared his throat as he crumpled up the wrapper and chucked it in the back seat, sucking a little bit of melted chocolate off of his thumb. “So. Is this regular introducing-the-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves I’m looking at here, or is this introducing-the-fake-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves? You don’t have any weirdos in your family, do you? An ex-felon auntie? A cousin who doesn’t quite get personal space?”

Stiles grinned as Derek laughed, oddly comforted by the sound as Derek shook his head. “Nothing exciting. A weird uncle, I guess. Lots of cousins, you should basically abandon any idea of personal space as soon as we walk in, and plenty of human family, too—so you won’t be alone in that. As far as felons go, well… none of us have been caught?”

“Hey, game recognizes game, it doesn’t count if you don’t get caught. And I can work with a weird uncle.” Stiles laughed at the sheepish look that Derek shot his way, his fingers still happily wrapped up in Derek’s warm hands. He could almost feel it when they crossed over onto the Hale land, the huge, white house as much of a giveaway as the shrieks of joy that even Stiles could hear from the property.

“They’re gonna love you, you know?” Derek’s voice was soft as he pulled the rental into a long row of cars, nearly lining the road leading up to the house, and Stiles felt the snarky remark die on his tongue as Derek caught his eye, his expression somewhere between grateful and wistful as he turned the car off.

“Maybe, but…” Stiles sighed as he popped his door open, chewing over his next words carefully. “But if they do, it’s because they already love you.”

He took it as a personal victory when Derek turned away, his ears pink again, and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he followed the werewolf up the path to his family home.

The Hale House was probably as huge and impressive as the Hale family itself from the outside, and Stiles did his best not to gape like a fool as Derek opened the door for him, his hand finding the small of Stiles’ back as they stepped into the house. Polished floors, huge, high windows, a grand staircase that was the definition of grand, and—

“Derek!”

—and another unfairly attractive Hale moving forward to greet them. Tall, broad, dark hair with just a splash of salt around the temples and the goatee, shining a million watt smile on Derek and Stiles as he wiped his hands on his probably-uncomfortably-tight jeans.

Jesus, was everyone in this family gorgeous? Stiles was going to get a complex.

He looked up as the stranger and Derek briefly hugged, watching the halfway-subtle way they scented one another, Mark’s head buried in Derek’s neck for a half moment before they pulled away. If Stiles strained his ear, he could have heard something along the lines of ‘be nice’ as Derek pulled back; if the situation weren’t so funny, Stiles probably would have blushed.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m always nice. I’m Mark, and you…” Mark started, his million watt smile back in place as his eyes dragged over Stiles’ body, “... you must be Stiles.” Stiles snorted as Mark pulled him into an easy hug, catching Stiles just a little off-guard as he was wrapped in another pair of arms.

Apparently Derek’s family was an affectionate bunch. Stiles didn’t know if it was a wolf thing or a Hale thing, but either way, it was good to know.

“Mark, uh, Seattle, right? You’re the surgeon?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat as the hug carried on just a bit too long, regaining some footing in the introduction as he pulled back. “Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

That was… mostly true, Derek had told him enough about Mark to thoroughly embarrass the older male, and Mark looked like he expected nothing less as he laughed, holding Stiles’ shoulders as he stood at arms length. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, but it’s probably all garbage. After all, how can you really describe a wonder like me in words, huh?”

He actually winked, and Stiles honestly couldn’t believe that this dude was for real.

“Der, nice job with this one. He’s cute. Kid, is my brother treating you well? Cause, you know, if Hale is your taste, you can do much better than—”

”Mark—“

“Oh, lighten up Der-bear, there isn’t enough Botox in the world to get rid of those scowl lines. It was a joke. Now come on, everyone’s out back.”

Stiles laughed again as Mark put Derek in an easy headlock, ruffling up his hair as he led them outside, immediately filing ‘Der-bear’ away for future use as they stepped out into the backyard.

The backyard, which was absolutely filled with Hales.

He felt his heart do a funny little lurch as he was hit with the sheer family of it all—all dark haired, all gorgeous, and for just a moment, he wanted to smack Derek upside the head. There were probably generations of Hales here; Derek had all this family, this built in support group, and he was just going to spend the summer holed up in New York?

“Alright, Siles, we’re gonna keep you in with the main family and keep you away from the cousins,” Mark started, artfully ignoring the way Derek was swatting at him. “Uncle Peter all but insisted that Mom come pick him up, so you’ll get to avoid them until later tonight, but who you really want to watch out for is—“

“Is that my grandbaby?!”

Mark stiffened as Derek perked up, and Stiles couldn’t help but snicker as a bony hand shot up, grabbing Mark by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off of Derek with a flourish that would probably seem overly dramatic if Stiles didn’t know just how much werewolf strength was packed behind it.

“Derek!”

“Hi, Nana.”

Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as Derek leaned in to wrap his arms around the older woman—she was a good foot shorter than he was, her movements loud, with light skinned with the same tell-tale black hair that the rest of the family had. What caught Stiles’ eye, though, was the way Derek scented her—it was the same way Mark scented him, a familial nudge that Stiles read easily as a sign of deference.

Whoever this Nana was, she was clearly the woman in charge here.

“You know, we’re all technically her grandbabies,” Mark started as he reappeared at Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck, his childish pout painfully obvious as he pointed his words. “But you wouldn’t know it with the blatant favoritism she shows for Derek!”

“Mark, don’t be such a baby,” Nana Hale said as she pulled back from Derek’s hug, patting his cheek affectionately. She raised a brow in a spectacularly unimpressed fashion as she turned to look at her eldest grandson, sighing in mock disappointment. “Not that I thought a career based off of liposuction and face lifts would have brought you some maturity.”

“That’s—I don’t just do—Nana!”

“Now, who do we have here? Derek, are you going to introduce me to your special friend?”

Ignoring Mark’s protests easily as she turned her attention, Stiles felt his heart pick up again, his eyes flicking to Derek as he beamed; Stiles wasn’t sure if he was happy to see Mark get smacked down, or if he was happy to introduce Stiles, but Stiles would have literally killed a man to see Derek smile that brightly on a regular basis.

“Nana, this is my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is my grandmother, Ger—“

“Nana Hale will do just fine, thank you very much,” she interrupted, pulling a face that made Stiles grin—he could absolutely relate to someone who would rather set their birth name on fire than own up to it. “Now, come here, let me get a look at you.”

Stiles stepped forward and hesitated a half moment, not sure if he should try one last time for a handshake or wait for her to initiate a hug, but before he could make up his mind she had her hands clasped on his elbows, a grip like iron stopping him in his tracks.

“Scrawny little thing, aren’t you? We’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. It’s good to meet you, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

“It’s good to meet you too—and some food sounds great,” Stiles said with a laugh, ignoring the fact that he was still full of junk food as Nana Hale all but preened beside him. Her grip was gentle but unyielding as she dragged him to a table that was piled with food, giving a half wave to Laura and Cora, who were stationed beside a punch bowl the size of a fish tank as he kept himself a half step behind Nana.

Stiles wasn’t dumb, okay? He knew how to make nice with wolves, and more importantly, he knew how to be subtle.

(He didn’t like it, but he knew how to do it.)

“Uncle Derek! Get Uncle Derek!!”

Thankfully, the moment was over in a flash as Stiles heard a familiar name called out in a high pitched squeal, looking back out to the yard where a hoard of kids had just caught sight (or scent?) of Derek, immediately abandoning the rough-and-tumble games they seemed to be wrapped up in to run toward Derek as fast as their little legs could carry them.

Derek immediately tensed, a manic grin on his face as he prepared to run, body twitching as he caught himself before taking off. He sent a look Stiles’ way that was somehow both apologetic and asking remission, and Stiles sighed as he smiled.

“You better run, Uncle Derek. They’re gonna get you,” Stiles said mock-seriously, only barely keeping a straight face as Derek instead ran straight to the kids, making all sorts of comedic noises as they mobbed his legs.

Fuck, he was cute.

Stiles’ attention was pulled off of Derek as he felt eyes on him, subtly scanning the yard before he made eye contact with another adult in the family, who was very shirtless, and very sweaty, and very much walking toward them with a bright smile on his face.

Okay, Stiles was definitely getting a complex.

“You must be Stiles!” he exclaimed once he was closer to their little group, and Stiles had never been as thankful for a child as he was for the tiny body perched on top of the other males shoulders, because he was just about at his ‘hugging gorgeous people’ limit. He was still sweating, for fucks sake, but Stiles supposed that even a wolf got tired out when they had eight kids hanging from their body until Uncle Derek stepped in.

“I am, and…” Stiles was about to assume this was the firefighter sibling, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the kid on top of his shoulders smiled, and Stiles was absolutely smitten. “And who is this little guy?”

The distraction was apparently a welcome one, because shirtless dude’s smile grew even wider, reaching up to pat the kid on a mop of curly hair before he lifted him up and over, holding him at chest level. “This is Isaac. Isaac, can you say hi to Stiles? He’s your uncle Derek’s special friend.”

Stiles literally felt his heart melt as Isaac gave a shy little wave, looking up at him with big blue eyes. He couldn’t have been older than three or four, and Stiles smiled and waved back as Isaac was set down on the ground.

“You wanna go play with Uncle D?” Any hint of shyness was forgotten the moment the question was asked, taking off toward Derek as fast as his little legs could carry him, which… wasn’t very fast, but was very, very cute.

“They all yours?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Derek, who now had at least six kids hanging off of him. He smiled as the other male shivered, shaking his head quickly.

“God no, just the three. Erica and Boyd, and Isaac too, now that the adoption has been finalized. Those kids basically run the joint, Derek included—as long as you don’t mind the occasional toddler mobbing, you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Thanks, random shirtless man, I really hope so.”

Stiles grinned as Laura choked on a mouthful of punch, the weirdness of the situation apparently just now visible to her as she sputtered, punching her brother in the arm. “Oh god, Taylor, what is wrong with you! Go put on a shirt, you can’t just—you didn’t even introduce yourself, I swear—Stiles is a guest, you weirdo!”

They kept bickering back and forth as Taylor pulled an undershirt on over his head, the whining turning into background noise as he poured himself a glass of punch. He knew perfectly well what Laura was trying to say—Stiles is a human—and he was pretty sure he was mostly flattered by everyone trying so hard, but any coherent thought left his head as he took a bite of the ribs, watching Nana Hale grin out of the corner of his eyes as he groaned in delight.

“God, they really do have Derek wrapped around their pudgy fingers,” Cora mused, and Stiles nodded his head, swallowing. It was honestly hilarious to watch Derek try to manage all those kids by himself; they seemed determined to pile themselves onto his head and shoulders, and he could almost see Derek sweat, trying to make sure he didn’t drop anyone as Isaac managed to wriggle his way into Derek’s grip.

He tilted his head in consideration, taking a sip of his drink before he spoke up.

“Yeah, he always did strike me as that kind of Alpha.”

He couldn’t help but savor the way the conversation ground to a halt around him, Laura and Taylor both sucking in a deep breath as Mark shattered the glass he was holding. There probably was a better way to acknowledge that he was in on the secret, but as funny as it was watching Derek’s siblings tiptoe around the fact, he figured it was best to rip the bandaid off in one go.

Even if it meant he had the attention of the Hales closest to him in one second, flat, Nana’s burning red from where she stood with a plate piled high with food.

He probably should have been nervous, but as he looked back at Derek, he could tell it was the right choice—Derek was all smiles, waiting only a beat before he popped his fangs and playfully snapped at one of his little nieces, the air soon full of squealing laughter once again.

Keeping his gaze even, Stiles smiled in thanks as he took the plate of food Nana offered to him, watching as her eyes melted back into their darker, human color. She was staring at him like he was a particularly complex puzzle, and she wasn’t alone—Cora looked hilariously outraged that she didn’t realize sooner, and even Mark was looking over him with renewed interest as his hand healed.

“I knew you were a smart boy. He told you?”

Nana’s question was accusing, but not unkind, and Stiles shrugged it off easily as he popped a chip into his mouth.

“He didn’t have to. My best friend was bitten when we were both fifteen. He didn’t have… anything, no alpha, no pack, just me and my mad Googling skills, and we’ve had plenty of supernatural run-ins over the years. Derek didn’t tell me because he didn’t have to tell me—I’m not anything special, but I’d like to think I can spot a non-human from at least fifty feet. Maybe more on a good day.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Stiles jumped as he heard Derek’s voice from behind him, and it truly was a credit to his poise and sophistication that he only blushed a little as Derek’s arm snaked around his waist. His body was warm, far warmer than it had been ten minutes ago, and Derek’s breath came a little heavy as he kissed the back of Stiles’ head.

“You are definitely something special.”

“You—you absolute cheeseball, what is wrong with you—” Stiles managed to get out as he shoved at Derek’s shoulder, his entire face burning red as Laura and Cora both gagged. Any residual awkwardness melted away as Nana’s sharp laugh cut through the air, the sound putting him back at ease as he leaned back into Derek’s warmth.

Somewhere between the fortieth round of storytelling and the gathering moving back into the house, Stiles needed a breather. Derek’s family was huge, and loud, and honestly, Stiles loved it—but it wasn’t long before he felt an itch beneath his skin, his fingers buzzing against his thigh, the muscles in his jaw a little too tight.

Stiles had expected Derek to be pretty popular in the family—what he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be anything more than an introduction and the same polite questions that everyone gave the new boyfriend.

“Wait, no fucking way did the two of you take down a Kanima, Stiles, I’m calling bullshit right now—“

Derek’s siblings were great, but they were also the worst; the minute they found out that Stiles had his own supernatural background, they were pestering him for stories, demanding his opinion of things, getting more and more exasperated with his entire life the more he shared.

Stiles knew that his life was crazy, okay? He didn’t need the constant reminders or the slack-jawed shocked expressions to reinforce that fact.

“Jesus, we didn’t even know that there were any wendigos in the state, and you knew an entire family of them?”

The only stories he flat out refused to talk about were the… issues he had had with hunters through high school—this was a party, after all, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring the vibe down by talking about the one time an assassin held a gun to his head to try and draw Scott out.

Fun times.

“What do you mean, you just know a banshee? And set her up with a hellhound? Dude, who are you?!”

Kissing Derek had, oddly enough, only exasperated the situation. In less than a day, they had gotten better at trading little affections back and forth; but instead of helping Stiles calm down, they only increased that thrumming nerves that bounced around at the base of his skull.

Which sucked, honestly, because kissing Derek was… really, really nice.

Stiles waited until another cousin who’s name he would never remember caught Derek up in a conversation about another tradition he couldn’t follow before he squeezed Derek’s hand, taking the opportunity to stand up from his spot on the couch and slip away.

The Hale House was huge, and outside was no exception; Stiles soon found himself on the porch, a huge wraparound wooden structure with built-in benches that let you enjoy the kind of view that made Stiles remember why he loved home so much. He treated himself to a few pictures of the sunset over Beacon Canyon before he flopped himself down on a bench, rubbing at his neck.

“Stiles? Everything alright?”

He had half expected Derek to follow him out after a few moments—but to his surprise, it was Nana Hale that sat beside him, her cheeks still pink with laughter as she tucked a jet black flyaway behind an ear.

“Is—oh, no, it’s great! Just wanted to, uh, snap a few pictures of the view.”

Another half truth—he was full to bursting with those lately.

“I know that our family can be… a little overwhelming,” she said, her tone even as she rose a brow, keeping her gaze forward as her fingers drummed a pattern into her knee.

Stiles hummed in agreement, his own smile a touch more genuine as he looked over to her. “Maybe, but that’s not a bad thing. When I was growing up, I spent so much time wondering what it would be like, to have siblings, and cousins, and… well, it might be a lot, but it’s a lot of love, too. I’m really glad Derek has that kind of support.”

Nana’s fingers stilled against her knee as she turned to face Stiles, and for the first time, Stiles was really able to get a good look at her properly. He could understand why she was the matriarch of the family, and how she had kept that title so long; even if he hadn’t witnessed her taking Mark down less than four hours ago, there was a whole other kind of strength that she was showing here, radiating off of her in waves.

“He does. But he doesn’t just have us for love and support... or was I reading the way you look at him wrong?” Her tone was teasing as she rose her brow, and Stiles felt his cheeks pink up spectacularly as he coughed, his eyes flashing back to the window for only a moment before Nana patted his knee.

“Don’t worry, the house is completely soundproof. Those nosy little pups can’t hear a word we say. Now tell me, how long have you been in love with my grandson?”

Now fully, beautifully red, Stiles groaned as he hid his face in his hands, Nana’s laughter ringing strong and clear as she stood up and walked toward the railing. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, I have no intention of spoiling that surprise until you’re ready to really woo him with it. And you’d better woo him! You know as well as I do that he deserves the romancing.”

Her tone softened as she chuckled, trailing off with a sigh and a sort of wistful smile as she shook her head. “New York has been good to him. You have, too, I think. California was… a rough part in his life.”

Something in the way she phrased it got the investigative side of his brain thrumming, his curiosity piqued as he remembered what Derek said on the plane.

‘I know they forgave me, but… sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?’

The nosy part of him wanted to pry, to dig a little more, but his eyes flicked back to the window again, where Derek and all four of his siblings were doing a terrible job at acting like they weren't trying to stare him down.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

Apparently, that was the right answer—Nana’s face softened again as she smiled, nodding her head, beckoning Stiles into standing up. She put her hand in the crook of his elbow easily, steering them back toward the house in a way that allowed no room for compromise.

“You are going to be good for my Der-bear, I know it.”

“Oh, I mean, I hope so. Derek deserves that, and I definitely—“

“Just let him be good for you, too.”

She reached up and patted Stiles cheek as he stared at her, dumbfounded, automatically opening the door for her as she walked back into the house. His expression was mirrored in the matching expressions of slack-jawed shock from all five Hale siblings, all staring at Stiles as Nana started in on another family story that would be sure to embarrass Mark, or Laura, or anyone who wasn’t Derek.

He meant what he said, of course. Derek deserved someone who would be good for him.

Somehow, that was the problem here.

—————

“Stiles, you reek of nerves. All I can smell is nerves and bell peppers. It’s not a good smell. Are you going to tell me what you’re freaking out about, or what?”

Stiles jolted as Derek called him out so effortlessly, pulled out of the trance he had fallen into as he watched Derek work, pushing around some of the barbecue from the night prior with some fresh chopped veggies into a delightful spur of the moment stir fry.

Derek was also as dressed down as Stiles had ever seen him, in a light grey henley and a dark pair of jeans, and that was even more delightful than the stir fry.

“Wait, you—that’s just something you can do? Oh god, your entire family must have known how nervous I was yesterday, did they—“

“Stiles. Breathe.”

Right. Breathing. He could do that.

…. maybe.

The truth was, Stiles could honestly say that he was having a great time back in Beacon Hills.

Derek and his family were great, no lie, and fake relationship aside, the researcher in him was absolutely thriving seeing how a huge, well-established pack worked with one another. They were literally a well oiled machine, the personification of the old ‘it takes a village’ metaphor, and the only thing that amazed Stiles more than how well they worked together was how well they adapted to Stiles being there.

Of course, he thought a big part of that came from having the Alphas on his side—not just Derek, but Nana too.

(“I can’t believe she hugged you,” Laura had hissed after yet another glass of infused punch. “When she met my last boyfriend, she threw him off the porch.”

“Well, Stiles is a fragile little human,” Taylor had snorted, ignoring the way Stiles smacked his arm, “and Hank was a major, prolapsed asshole.”

“Well yeah, but that’s not the point!”)

As great as Derek and his family was though, getting to come home and surprise his dad early… well, there was no place on the planet he would rather be than wrapped in a signature Stilinski hug, the kind of hug where you held on just a little longer than you needed to so you can pretend you definitely weren’t crying.

He got to watch a game with his dad, he got to sleep in his old, lumpy-ass childhood bed, he got to make breakfast in his mom’s kitchen.

So yeah. Great time.

Or at least, it had been, until a text rolled through after he kissed his dad goodbye that morning.

der-bear: Do you want to come over for lunch? Nana has everyone out of the house, Mom and Uncle Peter showed up this morning and he’s already driving everyone crazy.

sent: sure man. want me to bring anything? :)

der-bear: Don’t worry about it. Besides, I figure we should talk before the bonfire anyway.

And just like that, something brought around a cloud to rain on Stiles’ parade.

“Is it about tonight?” Derek asked, and if Stiles’ hadn’t been so laser focused on his cooking technique (his arms, okay, he was staring at Derek’s arms) he probably would have missed the way Derek hesitated when he asked, like he was afraid of the answer.

He picked himself up off of the barstool at the island in their gigantic kitchen, leaning against the counter closer to Derek, reaching in to pluck a chunk of onion out of the pan, skillfully avoiding the swat from Derek’s wooden spoon. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you… You know we’re looking forward to having you with us, right?” Derek asked, spooning some of the food onto two separate plates, using his claws to rip two fresh chunks of bread off of a loaf. “But if you don’t… I mean, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if you don’t want to.”

Stiles frowned as he accepted one of the plates, pulling the smaller chunk of bread off of one of Derek’s claws, mulling his next words over. “As long as you want me there I’ll be there,” Stiles said slowly, because there really was no way to politely say that Stiles would rather throw himself into the sun before his mythical lore studying ass missed out on observing pack activity on a blue moon.

“Why would you think I didn’t want you there?” Derek asked, looking like he was offended at the very notion, sliding a fork to Stiles as he sat down at the countertop, that offended look only growing as Stiles snorted.

“I dunno, I thought you might have changed your mind about it. Dude, you sent me a ‘we should talk’ text. I’m no expert, but I know that nothing good follows a ‘we should talk’ text,” Stiles said around a mouth full of bread, but any degree of playful levity he had gone for was sapped out of his voice the moment he saw Derek look back down at his plate.

“That, uh. I do think we should talk, but not about that. Stiles, I...”

Ah, fuck. Derek’s ears were pink again, and for once, Stiles thought that was a bad thing.

Stiles did his best not to panic as he thought through things, wondering what he had fucked up, because he just knew he had fucked up a little something. Maybe he had come on a little too strong last night, maybe he had gotten too comfortable with his crush, maybe—

“I was thinking that maybe… we shouldn’t be faking this anymore.”

—or maybe, he had fucked up a whole lot of everything.

Stiles felt his heart sink through his shoes as he swallowed his bread, his appetite suddenly gone. He brushed his hands on his jeans, giving a few short nods, swallowing again as he pushed back from the table a little bit. He thought for a moment that he should argue against it, but Derek had a sad puppy expression splashed across his face, and Stiles wasn’t strong against that on a good day.

“Oh.”

He could feel Derek’s eyes tracking him as he started to move, standing up and starting an easy track around the kitchen, flexing his fingers before he rubbed his palm with his thumbs, an old habit he had thought he had kicked back when he graduated from Berkeley.

“I think, uh, maybe you should wait until you’re back in New York to tell your family?” Stiles started, missing the tiny smile on Derek’s face before it melted into a look of confusion. “You should tell them I broke up with you, not the other way around, I don’t mind being the bad guy,” he added, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, Stiles—“

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Stiles interrupted, putting a smile back on his face, because he knew this was going to be coming at some point. Derek had made up their entire relationship, and Stiles had worked hard to remember that the reality of it was… that it wasn’t reality. He was the one with the inconvenient crush, he was the one who had gotten stupid. This was all on him, and taking the high road to bow out gracefully would be too.

Or, at least, it should have been. But Derek had abandoned his seat as well, halfway following Stiles in his trail around the kitchen, putting his arm out against a countertop to stop Stiles at a turn.

“I said I wanted to stop faking, Stiles.”

Hell, when had Derek gotten so close to him? Stiles blinked as he backed up against the counter, Derek’s arms closing him in, and suddenly he was getting an up close and personal look at Derek’s lips, and his eyes, and the way the blush was going back up his ears, and—

...why was Derek blushing?

“I never said anything about wanting you to leave.”

But why would Stiles be staying if… oh. Oh.

Realization dawned on Stiles’ face as Derek blushed and looked down, moving his hands a little bit closer against the counter, and Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Derek’s thumb settle right along his hip. He had to clear his throat before he could speak, swallowing down the hope that was threatening to bubble over, chewing on his lip as he put one hand on Derek’s chest, the other gently tipping his head back to look him in the eye.

“Dude, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you gotta spell it out, I’ve had a crush on you for like forever and if I’m mis-reading this—”

“I told you. I’m your boyfriend, don’t call me dude.”

Stiles laughed again, elation making him feel light and giddy, finally breaking eye contact with Derek as he felt his own blush burn through the back of his neck.

“Stay, Stiles. You belong here. With me.”

Rather than even try to form a coherent response, Stiles dropped one of his hands, cheeks still a ruddy color as he looped a finger into one of the belt loops on Derek’s designer jeans, pulling him just that much closer.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh, thank God—"

—————

Yeah, Stiles thought hours later, still feeling the warmth of Derek’s smile against his lips as howls sounded off around the Hale House, moonlight swirling around him from the vantage point he had on the porch.

This was exactly where he belonged.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #hale family #teen wolf fic #fake dating #everyone lives #two halves of a whole idiot #this is actually my first sterek fic ever lmao HOW WILD

[sonichkkaaascreams]

Mountain with a flower crown

As inspired by a post made by @bleachhaven I made a bleach OC. I am very proud of her. This post is her full bio as I laid the ground work of who she is and next post coming in sometime tomorrow or the day after will be a oneshot of this wonderful lady and her partner. Maybe even turn into something more.

The request and the head cannon it resulted were as followed:

Headcanon for Zaraki Kenpachi with a S/O that’s bigger than him (fluff and smut) 

wordcount: 5816 ~ 

it’s a lpt so i hope you’re patient with me. i like going in depth with my OC’s but also this time i tried to keep her simple and leave some space for the oneshot to come. also i already apologize for any possible errors that i might have missed. my eyes are stinging at the time of posting this.

again special thanks to @bleachhaven​ and also a thank you to @shadowsnlace who also inspired me with their headcanons and i will be using tid bits from their combined effort (they worked seporatly.) in the oneshot of the same name as in the headline. 

Verse: bleach manga – bleach anime property of Tite Kubo

Motto: Chop your own wood, it will warm you twice.

 Name: Yasu (assertive child, ヤス) Yamase (Yama = mountain ,山 – se = back / spine / stature / ridge , 背 )

Reason or meaning of the name: she was a very large child since birth – and her last name was given because of her large stature that resembled a mountain in comparison to her peers and the fact that she carried the livelihood of an entire village on her back.

Nickname: 1. Ushi-oni (Ox/cow demon - 牛鬼)

                   2. Yama-0nna (mountain woman/ mountain lady)

Reason for nickname: 1. This nickname bears the weight of an insult and is what she is called by those who have crossed her path and met her as an enemy. They call her that to convey how beastly large and powerful she is and by the extent how unbothered by their attacks she was.

                                      2. This endearing nickname is given to her by the new children of her village. They call her that because she is very large, like a mountain, and also because she has the word mountain in her last name.

Birth date: Oct 1st

Her birth: she was born on the first day of autumn, around 2 A.M (the hour is known as the ox hour) it was a quiet and peaceful night with the owls hooting as the only noise outside.

Place of birth: a small secluded beachside village named “Momo Niwa” (peach, garden/field - 桃,庭) located in district 35 of east Rukongai

Species: soul

Occupation: formerly the hunter, farmer gardener, shepherd, fisherwoman, and the primary breadwinner of her village

                      Later on: Shinigami (soul reaper)

Age: 556 years old

How old does the OC appear: mid to late twenties (maybe late twenties to early thirties if you account for some significant facial features)

Weight: 363.4 lbs = 164.83 kg

Height: 8’8 = 264.16 cm

Body build: she is 363.4 lbs of pure muscle accumulated by eating a bear (or 3 entier boars down to the bone) a day and shaped with everyday hard labor since she was old enough to have a grip on a tool. She is bulky and strong, able to wrestle with a grown male bear easily, carry multiple three trunks on her back, and if needed pull a tree out of the ground. She is perhaps the single largest soul living in soul society.

The shape of her face: her face is not very feminine, she has a sharp jawline and strong chin. High cheekbones and gentle brows. Her nose while proportionate has been broken twice. The skin of her face while still soft has been wiped with direct sunlight for long periods of time. Her lips are thick and plump with a downward curve that makes her seem constantly annoyed. A small horizontal scar on her right cheek from where she was attacked by an angry wild cat as an inexperienced hunter. A scar on her upper left forehead near her hairline from when she fell off a three as a child (there is a very small bald spot there due to the scar tissue) and a thick but short diagonal scar under the right corner of her lip leaving it slightly misshapen.

Eye color: light gray – almost white if looked at from afar.

Eyesight: exceptional

Skin tone: as a child, she had fine pale skin, but as the years went by and time spent on the field or the beach her skin changed, and now it’s rough, leathery, and tanned – however, some parts of her body that have never been under the direct sunlight are still moonlight pale.

Distinguishing marks: the scars on her face. Her physique. Scaring around her feet and hands due to hard labor and occasional fights.

Predominant features: the sheer size and height of this woman.

Hair color: a dark reddish-brown with a few gray streaks amidst them. The gray parts make her seem older than she is.

Hair type: wavy, wild, and unkempt. She rarely has enough time or patience to properly care for them.

Hairstyle: the majority of her hair is usually either in a high ponytail or a bun to keep out of her face with a simple old blue ribbon that’s almost ragged by this point due to extensive use. The gray streaks are kept in small braids decorated with beads, feathers, and animal teeth or bones. (insisted by her village elders as hair decoration speaks of position in her village)

Voice: surprisingly has a soft and gentle voice that seems unusual for her throat. Make no mistake she is not quiet nor meek. She has loud booming laughter that is guaranteed to shake the house and her voice can easily be heard over others in a loud crowded room. But her speech pattern is gentle, polite, soft-spoken, and calming. She speaks with a reassuring sense of confidence that will make everyone listen and heed her words.

Overall attractiveness: she is not considered conventionally beautiful nor attractive; especially by feminine standards. She is simply too large, too tall, and too muscular to be the image of the traditionally graceful innocent flower petal that women are perceived as. Instead, she is considered rather handsome. In a manly, reliable kind of way that makes a woman to be attracted to her more than men. As most men don’t like courting girls that tower over them both figuratively and literally.

Physical disabilities: due to her height and weight, her knees and ankles are prone to joint pain and are in need of getting an ointment and herbal massage every once in a while. She may be very strong but the same muscles that made her so, also take away from her speed and she usually is more of a slow and steady kind of worker than the speedy type. She also used to have a difficulty in controlling her strength and had very loud and heavy steps and as a hunter that was a disadvantage. She has long since corrected her steps and is now as quiet as a wild cat while hunting and is quite good with her hands now but she is still rather slow.

The usual fashion of dress: as a child, she would wear normal clothing but as she continued to grow at an abnormal rate her clothes began to consist of multiple Yukatas and Kimonos sewn poorly together to make one dress that is big enough for her to wear comfortable and decently.

Favorite outfit: an utilitarian Yukata that is made of multiple dark-colored and green-colored fabrics that she uses for hunting and a winter coat made of only white rabbit skin.

Jewelry or accessories: No earrings, necklaces, or rings only hair decorations made of seashells, feathers, carved bones, and teeth.

Personality: Hardworking, steel true, and blade straight, Yasu is the primary breadwinner of her small village and responsible for the care of many elders, pregnant women, and many children along with many injured and otherwise incapacitated souls. She not only hunts, fishes works on fields, collects herbs, fixe tools, and homes, and guards the village against potential harm, but also she teaches everything she was taught and learned herself to the next generation ensuring the survival of her small village. She is primarily a noncombatant as her imposing sight alone wards off any potential threats and due to her size and strength she rarely needs to exert herself and to this day she has not been physically challenged (not since the first time she wrestled a bear as a child, but then she was mostly unprepared than weaker. Ps. She cried when she accidentally killed it, stopped crying when she realized how tasty the bear is.).

                      Unless necessary she rather not partake in violence, as a hunter she was thought that a kill must be clear and clean sparing the pray from unneeded misery and pain. If forced, however she is not a pushover, and while still does not partake in needless violence will effectively and immediately remove the assailant from her and her associates' vicinity by picking them up and throwing them away over her head.

                      She grew up in a village that predominantly had many fragile and weak people and thus not only she gained mastery over her strength but also was raised with the duty of the caretaker. She may have been one of the younger children of her village at the time, but since she was the largest and strongest many of the manual labor was placed on her shoulders and so she grew to have a habit of being everyone’s mother, to care for their well-being, eating habits, if their sleeping well, fixing their clothes if it’s untidy and even bathing them. (She was strong enough to safely carry the pregnant women to the bath, wash them safely and carry them back with no problem, or help those that had injured arms or legs in bathing)

                      She is, as formerly mentioned, very soft-spoken and quiet and never feels the need to yell or raise her voice as her sight alone demands unwavering attention. She is well respected as the breadwinner of an entire village as is dutiful to be deserving of that respect. She rises early morning before the birds – the elders' joke that she wakes up the sun every morning ) and goes to bed later than everyone on the nights that she doesn’t stand guard all night (again the elders' joke that she either stays up to make sure all the stars are accounted for or that she keeps guard of the moon as well.)

                      She knows there’s a time and a place for everything, a time to be respectful, a time to be playful, and a time to be forceful. She put her duty as the caretaker above all else.

                      She hates it when people think she’s older than she is because of her hair and battered face.

                     She holds on to a very old superstition that drinking boar blood mixed with milk makes children grow to be strong, completely ignoring the parts that the superstition is about “sons” and not daughters and that she is not a “CHILD” anymore.

                    She may act humbly, but secretly she loves how large she is. The only time she ever hated her height is when she entered Shino Academy and all the doorframes were too short for her and her dorm room was ridiculously small for her built. And for that, she prefers to sleep on the rooftop.

                    She genuinely enjoys hard labor and will always offer to carry items for others and if she senses that someone is getting tired she will carry them on her shoulder With delight.

                     While she is a well-spoken person, if she meets someone she is annoyed with or particularly have done something to warrant her contempt towards them, she starts calling them a very specific insult she never normally uses and only reserves for those she dislikes. “Puny/tiny man” for the men and “ladybug” or “little caterpillar” for the woman. (Ex: *smiling politely* be careful little ladybug/puny man, it would be a shame if I accidentally stepped on you. – She has only ever used this insult twice to this day) and on the other hand, she particularly likes someone, she will make them flower crowns and jewelry made of bones and teeth of animals if they are girls (or they like jewelry) and make hand-carved hunting knives and fur coats for the men.

                   She prefers to bathe in a cold lake as oppose to use warm water or use an Onsen.

                   When she finally partakes in combat, she is without a doubt both an unmovable object and an unstoppable force. she prefers to detain her opponents with Kido or Hakudo and if forced break their bones with the hilt or the dull side of her sword and avoid having to cut them down. (She says: a blade is for slaying and not for playing.) if due to specific circumstances; she were to aim for her opponent's death, they will die as quickly and painlessly as possible within a day – if the numbers are high – she makes it seem as if her opponents are mere animals that she needs to put out of misery as quickly as possible and not prolong their suffering. (on one specific occasion where she was disarmed, she held her opponent in a tight hug and crushed his entire spine and rib cage, killing him. – She was miserable and depressed for days afterward, and proceeded to dig an honorable grave for the man.)

Moral: she is dutiful and puts it above all else. When she mush kills, she will make it as fast and painless as possible. And only when it’s necessary. She rarely becomes physical with anyone. she believes she’s stronger than anyone she knows and doesn’t see the need to assert herself in such away.

Self-control: fairly high. She is a very disciplined individual both physically and mentally.

Motivation: the satisfaction of achievement through hard work. By the sweat of her brow and the strength of her mountain-like back.

Discouragement: realizing her size may prevent her from perfecting an action. Or realizing she may have to resort to violence.

Intelligence level: she may not be the most intelligent, but she is wise for her age and has great life experience. Her intuition and deduction skills have saved her from many sticky situations.

Confidence level: she is not arrogant or boastful but she is without a doubt very confident and assured of her capabilities. Of her strength, skills, and intuition. As well as the leadership skills that she acquired through the years.

Mood the OC is in most often: peaceful and relaxed yet focused on the task at hand.

Sense of humor: she has heard every tall joke and buff girl joke there is and is bored of hearing them but she will use at least 1 a day. Lesbian and butch jokes annoy her. She has heard every crude joke an individual can think of. Personally, associates with dark humor. Will hopelessly laugh at shitty puns.

The greatest joy in life: once in her life she had nothing to do so she sat by the beach and laid on the sand listening to the sound of the waves and allowed the children to braid her hair with flowers and colorful ribbons, and that is the greatest feeling she ever had.

Greatest fear – why: to grow old and die in the same village she was born into without ever leaving it. While she is grateful to the people who raised her she doesn’t want her life to have begun and ended in a secluded village by the beach without ever having seen much beyond the woods and the shore.

What would throw the OC’s life in turmoil: the times where she had to kill, especially if the death was A) unintentional due to her uncontrolled strength as a youth and B) done with inappropriate weaponry that caused a slow death and prolonged suffering.

Most at ease when: surrounded by children or people that are younger than her. When surrounded by loved ones. When hearing the sound of running water that reminds her of the shore she grew up in.

Enraged when: insulted, annoyed for too long regarding petty things, teased for her graying hair or size for too long, if someone decides to attack someone smaller and weaker

Trauma: this goes back to when she was a very young child. At the tender age of seven, when she was all but a doe-eyed child, she would eat as much as 3 times a grown man – by that time she was about as tall as a teen – so it’s understandable that on a specially cold winter the village became short on rations. Instead of telling the child to eat less, the villagers lessened their rations for the children and Yasu. For that reason that winter 5 of the older and weaker villagers passed away. Yasu was not told this until she was a good 200 years old, and when she realized this is the reason why her “Yuudai sofu” (grandfather Yuudai) passed away. she was traumatized to a point of losing her appetite and starving herself for the next two years that she grieved. then she returned, vowed she would repay her family every grain of rice a thousand fold and every drop of milk ten thousand. 

Prejudice: a general disdain for those who are physically capable but refuse to “cut their own wood” or “pull their weight”. She came from a village where it was an unspoken rule that the youth – and generally those who are capable – must look after those who cannot do so/ the old. and also a disdain for those who take the hard work of others for granted.

Favorite activity – hobby: when she doesn’t have anything particular to do she likes to sit down under a tree and either carve wood and bones into hunting knives or make flower crowns.

How does the OC feel about herself: she is comfortable in her own skin. Never really thinks about her appearance nor does she compare herself to others. She is content with who she is and the work she does.

One word to describe herself: reliable

One paragraph of how would she describe herself: “I think I’m reliable. I would like to think that I am. It’s my duty as the capable one to look after the others. I do enjoy working, I never seem to be able to sit down idly. Makes me fidgety. (Chuckles.) By the way, you seem tired! Need me to carry you? (Bends down) come now don’t be shy the weather is nice up here!” (Points at her shoulders making a tall joke)

Her best and worst personality trait is based on herself: “Oooooh, I’m not sure. I think my best trait is that, well, I’m reliable. And very sturdy. (Laughs.) my worst trait? I don’t know. I work too hard? Don’t take as many breaks as I should? I feel like I’m bragging.”

Her best and the worst physical trait is based on herself: “Hmmm. I never thought about that. I guess I do like that I’m tall and strong. I can take care of everyone like that. Reach the high shelves for them and pick them up when they're tired. I guess I don’t like my graying streaks? Makes people think I’m older than I actually am. “

How others perceive her: Villiger child said. ”Yama-Onna- san is the best! She picks us up and swings us around and around until we get dizzy and then she brings us fresh peaches every afternoon. She saved Aki-chan from a mean boar once. We love Yama-Onna- san sooo very much.”

                                             Villager woman: “Aah, yes. I do know Yasu- chan. She is wonderful. A dutiful, wonderful, kind person. I remember when I was with child and couldn’t walk. She would always pick me up so gently and take me to bathe and take very good care of me. Not to mention she'd always make special rabbit soup for me to make sure I was well fed. She fixed my room when it was broken too. Such a handy girl she is. If only she were a man, I think I wouldn't mind a husband like her.” (she laughs as a man’s grumble comes from inside her home.)

The opinion of other people in general: “seeing her for the first time she may look frightening and imposing but in truth, she has the gentle heart of a bunny. Give her a chance to show you who she is rather than what she looks like. She may look like an imposing beast; but she’s about as harmless as a sweet little chipmunk. “

Does she hide her (true) opinion on other people: not particularly.  Even when speaking the truth she will make sure to phrase it politely and gently.

The person she hates the most: lazy people in general – or that least lazy people who are ungrateful

Best friends: Hinamori Momo, Kotetsu Isane, Ise Nanao

Persons she avoids: Kurotsuchi Mayuri, Soi Feng

Person, she feels awkward with: Hitsugaya Toshiro (so small), Hirako Shinji (that weird smile), Soi Feng (so loud for someone so small)

The person she openly or secretly admires: Zaraki Kenpachi (he is up to my chest, very tall), Ise Nanao, Kuchiki Rukia

How she thinks others perceive her: Ushi-oni, imposing and scary (which makes her a bit sad)

One thing she would change about herself: the gray hair, maybe make herself a little shorter – just a little – enough that her head wouldn’t hit the door frames all the time.

Her main logic of the world: Chop your own wood, it will warm you twice.

                                                   You can either dream or work to achieve that                                                           dream.

                                                  You won't always be motivated, you must learn                                                       to be disciplined.

                                                    By the sweat of your brow and the strength of your back, and the blood in your veins. Anything can be achieved.

                                                      When there’s a will there’s a way.

Depressed or sad when: she does something she deems cruel. doesn’t have anything to do. Her friend is in the middle of something she can’t help them with. When away from Kenpachi for too long. Sometimes she misses her mothers, father figures and her village.  

Priorities: duty first. And not just work duty. Her duty to herself. Her duty to her romantic partner/ spouse. Her duty to her friend. Her duty to nature, her duty to her conscious. Her duty to her mothers.

Life philosophy: hard work pays off. Always. Not always in the ways, we want or we think we want. But always pays off in some way.

Soft spot – is it obvious or not: she has a giant soft spot for children and people who are physically very small even by normal standards. (namely, Hinamori Momo. Hitsugaya Toshiro, Kuchiki Rukia) – it couldn’t be any more obvious – she makes them flower crowns every day without fail)

Greatest strength: other than her bulging biceps? Her great leadership skills and hard-working nature.

Vulnerability or weakness: deep down she does feel weird and vulnerable about her size, after all, she is still a girl, and about the time she was 150 or so she was deeply sensitive when a guy would call her Ushi-Oni. Just because she was taller than everyone else. Although now she knows logically she shouldn't feel bad about herself and her appearance there are still times she feels embarrassed when she knows she can’t wear a beautiful Kimono because A) they don’t have it in her size and B) she realizes it wouldn’t be good on her as it would on someone like Ise Nanao or Kuchiki Rukia

Biggest regret: accidentally killing that bear, not realizing her eating habits were putting a strain on the village sooner

Minor regret: not learning feminine skills (sewing, tea etiquette, etc.)

Biggest accomplishment: becoming a Shinigami

Other accomplishments: mastering the sword, archery, trapping, fishing, tracking, and finding her way based on stars – making a full garden of peaches from only 3 peaches she bought – building a small fishing boat (albeit a flimsy one) – raising the number of the village livestock exponentially.

Past failures: she failed many times in almost everything she started. It’s not important how many times she failed in what, what’s important is that she is now more skilled than the average souls and Shinigami.

Embarrassing moments: her first 3 weeks at Shino Academy they didn't have a uniform her size so until they make one her size she was heavily underdressed. (the pants were only to her knees and the upper half was more like a tight short-sleeved vest. She preferred to wear her usual clothes but wasn’t allowed to. The moment Captain Hitsugaya who had come to the Academy on work-related matters saw her state of indecency he threw a fit and demanded appropriate clothing for a lady. – Yasu wanted to die at that moment.)

Darkest secret: she secretly, very deep down, is annoyed that no one else is half as strong as she is. And wishes there was someone she could find that she didn’t have to hold back for.) (*wink wink* foreshadowing *wink wink*)

Skills: life skills: 1. wielding a club

                            2. archery

                            3. trapping

                            4. pathfinding using stars

                            5. fishing

                            6. trapping and hunting and skinning animals

                            7. wood carving, bone carving, and tool building in general

                            8. cooking

                            9. farming, gardening

 Incompetence: 1. Sewing

                                  2. tea brewing

                                  3. anything to do with speed or agility

                                  4. patience in anything other than hunting

                                  5. strategizing in anything other than hunting

 Strength – talent – powers: Shinigami based: 1. professional Zanjutsu

                                                                            2. advanced levels of Kido

                                                                            3. unrivaled Hakudo

                                                                            4. passable Hoho

                                                                              Habits: 1. she stubbornly sticks to the superstition of drinking mill mixed with boar blood is good for health and strength. (even though the superstition says it’s good for little boys to grow strong and healthy and she is neither a boy nor a child.)

            2. She prefers to take cold bathes even in midwinter.

           3. Sleeping outside – unless provided with a big enough room.

           4. Braiding her hair and making flower crowns when she is bored or nervous.

 The organization involved: Gotei 13, Squad 10. (as the third seat officer)

Income: standard seated officer Shinigami income + overtime

Job satisfaction: doing all the paperwork as fast as possible (even those that aren’t hers… LOOKING AT YOU MATSUMOTO RANGIKU)

Health: as is expected of someone her size she is very healthy seldom gets sick. Her knees and ankles need a herbal and ointment massage now and then due to the pressure of caring for her weight.

 Childhood life: on a particularly warm summer evening a woman by the name of “Hatsume” comes across this small village begging for a small room so she can have her child in peace. The villagers of course all this and the woman spends the next two months peacefully waiting for her child. The villagers assumed she must have multiple sons as her belly was greatly swollen but by the time the child was born, it was revealed that “Hatsume” was right and she only had one child. One little girl.

                          Actually no, she had one big girl. A girl so big, that she broke her mother’s hips as she was coming out resulting in the death of her mother. Originally the midwife –“ Obba-chan Harumi” – deemed it a bad omen and wanted to drown the child but was convinced otherwise by the rest of the women. Thus the newborn was given to “Riko” another woman who had recently lost her weak child due to heatwave. She named the child “Yasu “ and accepted her as her own child and fed her until she no longer could.

                         Apparently “Yasu” was a very hungry child and drank her mother dry within a few months, and so she was given to another woman named “Natsuko” who also raised her as her own alongside her son named “Tadashi”.  And so, until Yasu-chan was old enough to eat solid food she was cared for by the collective effort of 10 women. (Riko-san, Natsuko-san, Haruko-san, Kaede-san, Usagiko-san, Amaya- san, Yuria-san, Ikuko-san, Minako-san, Sakue-san) and as a child, she grew to eat 3 times a grown man and as an adult, she eats 9 times the average man as a moderate ratio (she can eat more)

Best memories: 1. sitting by the ocean with her 10 mothers and their other children making flower crowns and listening to the sound of waves.

                            2. Learning how to carve knives and sitting next to her        “Yuudai-gi” and making hunting knives.

Worst memories: 1. sitting at the grave of “Yuudai-gi” now knowing why he died

                                2. Barring her mother “Kaede-san” after she fell ill

Alignment: bounces between lawful chaotic and chaotic lawful – sometimes lawful neutral

Short-term goal: accomplish daily duties to the best of her abilities.

Long term goal: live her life to the fullest and learn to relax and have fun without worrying

The most defining moment in her life: deciding she’s prepared the kids of her village enough and leaving them to become a Shinigami.

Type of childhood: certainly eventful, but all in all nurturing

First memory: her first and oldest childhood memory is being surrounded by many women cooing at her (her motherers) and one in particular saying something about giving her boar blood with milk.

Most important childhood memory: her first successful hunt, an old limping stag.

Childhood hero: Yuudai-gi

Education: thought by the rest of the villagers. Mostly focused on practical information – learned how to write and read when she had nothing better to do by her mothers.

Family: mothers: Riko-san, Natsuko-san, Haruko-san, Kaede-san, Usagiko-san, Amaya- san, Yuria-san, Ikuko-san, Minako-san, Sakue-san

             Father figure: Yuudai-gi, Kaoru-gi, Manzo-san, Ikemoto-san, Gihei-gi, Sotaro-san

              Siblings: Tadashi-kun, Ekiken-kun, Toyozo-kun, kenji-kun, Hachigoro-kun, shigeru-kun, Akeno-chan, Euki-chan ,Mizuki-chan, Mami-chan, Romi-chan, Shizue-chan, Chieko-chan, Asaji-chan, Ochiyo- chan

                  +the rest of the village.

Relationship with parents: she was well-loved by all of her mothers.  

Relationship with siblings: there were arguments as children and there were teasings as children but the older they got the better their relationship became and with her size she became everyone's protector and the helping hand of her mothers.

Spouse – lover – the person of interest: Zaraki Kenpachi, the second Kenpachi and the 11th captain of squad 11 of Gotei 13.

Children: none

Relationship with children: very well.

Other important family members: (her father may or may not have been a member of a branch family sworn to the Kuchiki clan but Hatsume never confirmed anything and died before revealing anything about the father of the child.) later on Yasu says she has no interest of ever finding her father since she already has 6 father figures and an entire village as family.

Favorites

-color: light ocean blue

-music: the sound of waves – the sound of branches moving in the wind – the sound of owls Hooting at night.

-food: Bear, boar, shrimps

-literature: she doesn't read much. The Academy textbooks are the closest she got to literature. That being said the book of Seireite Laws is her somewhat favorite.

-form of entertainment: making flower crowns, carving knives, going to the woods to watch the wildlife as they are, watch Kenpachi fight, watch captain Hitsugaya yell at Rangiku.

-expression: 1. You won't always be motivated, you must learn to be      disciplined.

                        2. Chop your own wood, it will warm you twice.

-most prized possession: 1. her ragged old ribbon she uses to tie her hair up.

                                             2. Her hair decorations.

                                             3. The old hunting knife made of bear bone that once belonged to her Yuudai-gi

-weapon: old hunting knife that belonged to Yuudai-gi,

                     Her Zanpakuto (it’s her first and only appropriate and professionally made weapon)

-pastime: watching Kenpachi fight as she makes flower crowns or carves knives.

Poetry describing – quote describing: “she may not have been the innocent cherry blossom, nor the alluring lotus. She may not have been the moon goddess nor the lady sun. she may not have been the enchanting vixen nor the oblivious doe. She may not have been gentle river nor the cherishing wind. She may not have been a princess nor a noble jewel.

Instead, she was unconventionally alluring. She was the reliable oak and the sturdy pine tree. She is the north star guiding travelers home and the early morning twilight, the very beginning of a gentle, warm touch waking you up. She is the dangerously alluring owl and the coyote that mates for life. She is the iron shield you carry to war and the rock you lean on. She’s the hard-working peasant girl in the rice field and The silver O-Choko cup, the only thing the beggar refuses to sell.”

Playlist: 

I have a dream – Abba

“I have a dream, a song to sing

To help me cope with anything

If you see the wonder of a fairy tale

You can take the future even if you fail

I believe in angels

Something good in everything I see

I believe in angels”

My same – Adele (Yasu and Kenpachi)

“I don't know who I'd be if I didn't know you

You're so provocative

I'm so conservative

You're so adventurous

I'm so very cautious

Combined you think we wouldn't and we do”

  Into you – Ariana Grande

“So, baby, come light me up, and maybe I'll let you on it

A little bit dangerous, but, baby, that's how I want it

A little less conversation and a little more "touch my body"

'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you

Got everyone watchin' us, so, baby, let's keep it secret

A little bit scandalous, but, baby, don't let them see it

A little less conversation and a little more "touch my body"

'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you, oh yeah”

Are you ready – the Disturbed

“That's enough already now

You don't want to take it

All your reservations have been taken away

They've been taken away

So you think you're ready now

For the revolution

Yeah, they can't control you

Once you've broken away

You've got to get them out of your mind

When they stand before you they will find

A force they aren't ready for

***

Are you ready?

They aren't ready for you to be strong

Are you ready?

They aren't ready for you to prove them wrong

Are you ready?

They aren't ready for you to be turned into someone

Who cannot be preyed upon”

  The greatest thing – Cher Lloyd, lady Gaga (Yasu and Kenpachi)

”I hope, that you can see,

you are the greatest thing to me.

And when, you' feeling like you're not enough.

I'll give you wings, i'll lift you up.

I hope, that you can see,

you are the greatest, greatest thing to me.”

   Out of control – lady gaga (Yasu and Kenpachi)

“I need a love that's crazy don't you see?

***

“Give it up, Put it up, Not enough, Not enough, Not enough, I need it Out of control.

 Give it up just let your body Out of control”

 Rival – Ruelle

“The tide is high

It's sink or swim

My only rival is within

Giants calling round the bend

My only rival is within

I won't let my demons win

My only rival is within

I will fight through thick and thin

My only rival is within”

 The one thing – Shakira (Yasu and Kenpachi)

“You are the one thing that I got right

It's a fickle world, yeah, it's a fickle world

You turn the darkness into sun light

I'm a lucky girl, yeah, I'm a lucky girl

And if I mess up everything someday

I would hide my head in shame

Cause you are the one thing that I got right”

aesthetic: (disclaimer: non of the photoes and art works used in the grid bellow are mine i acuired them from pinterest. i do not take credit for any of these pieces.)

#kenpachi #kenpachi zaraki #bleach #bleach OC #oc #my oc #momo hinamori #toshiro hitsugaya #nanao ise #isane kotetsu #gotei 13 #squad 10 #squad 11 #shinigami #soul reaper #soul society #own character #kenpachi x OC #kenpachi zaraki x oc #i did a compulsive thing #i spent a full day on this #am i finally doing a productive thing? #or am i just hyper active now? #maybe it's all the coffee #mountain with a flower crown #mountain with a flower crown bio #yamase yasu bio #yasu yamase bio

[svynakee]

Mulan (2020)’s idiotic cultural appropriation of chi is really stupid

Qi is a real thing. Not in the way that oxygen, or electromagnetic waves, are real. You cannot find an atom of qi. You cannot measure qi with a device. Qi is real the way romance, or luck, are real. And in the same way that the romance most people experience isn’t the same romance that is depicted in movies of passionate, melodramatic, wild love, the qi in wuxia and other genres is not the qi experienced in real life.

Now, when it comes to romance movies, the concept of love at first sight does not need to be established. It is accepted that there can exist, in the setting of the story, an unseen powerful force that drives strangers together on the whims of fate. There doesn’t need to be a professor pointing at a blackboard explaining the mechanics of destiny, and the evolution of true love, for an audience to willingly accept that love at first sight can be real for the sake of the story. In this way, it is unnecessary for there to be a martial arts master in every story that uses qi to explain what qi is, why it exists and how humans have learned to harness it.

However, the individual story’s take on qi should be established. If there are organised, respected, powerful sects teaching students to use qi, then assumptions can be made about how society views qi, how developed the study of qi is, the place of qi users in this world. If qi users are almost mythical and tend to hide in seclusion, assumptions can be made. If the emperor’s strongest generals proudly use qi in battle, assumptions can be made. If a teacher cautions against improper usage of qi because it can result in both physical and mental harm to the practitioner, assumptions can be made. And even if nobody bats an eye at the fact that the duke’s eldest son and the third imperial prince are doing flying leaps across rooftops on market day, then assumptions can be made about qi, such as ‘using qi is so common that the price of cabbage is more interesting than watching someone doing magic parkour’.

Simply saying ‘qi exists and is for warriors’ does a poor job of worldbuilding. Worldbuilding is important because it sets the stage, gives context to the stakes, lends weight to the protagonist’s struggles. What does Mulan (2020) tell us about…’chi’? One important thing to note is that in Disney’s Mulan (2020), chi is referred to as a skill; ‘he has strong chi’, ‘he has a talent for soccer’. In Chinese works, qi is the energy, the skill is qigong, which is qi (air) + gong (effort). A martial artist therefore has strong qi, or skill in qigong. They are not skilled in qi. In the following points, I will be discussing Disney’s idea of chi, so I will use their terminology.

Only men can use chi, but chi is also available to women.

Not being true to yourself poisons your chi.

Chi is for warriors, implying that women cannot be warriors (this is actually uncommon in Chinese wuxia stories, more common in historical ones where QIGONG AND WITCHES DO NOT EXIST).

The existence of a woman with chi powers is unusual and a cause for alarm, but not unusual enough that the Emperor dismisses the idea after hearing ONE REPORT FROM A RANDOM SOLDIER.

Those in the Imperial army are trained, briefly, to use chi – this is shaky because I think the commander talks about how chi can be used, and Honghui’s compliment to Mulan implies that her usage of chi is what makes them equals, meaning Honghui can also use it.

People recognise that chi allows humans to do super gymnastics and have enhanced reflexes, enough that when the villagers see a young Mulan doing these things, they are freaked out. Or the ancient Chinese really hated backflips.

Despite women using chi being so taboo, Mulan’s father decided to teach his daughter chi just because she was born with a high midichlorian count- I mean, high chi. When she displays chi abilities in front of other villagers, her mother gets angry and tells him to stop teaching her. Yet Mulan still retains her chi proficiency into adulthood, meaning either her father continued to teach her, or chi mastery lasts for a lifetime. In that way, using chi is a bit like riding a bicycle.

Rourans can use chi to run up walls, but Mulan’s friends are only shown to do this very briefly near the end of the movie, with normal Imperial soldiers failing to use this ability.

The Emperor of China is a proficient chi user. His chi lets him use drapery as weapons (actually a common technique in wuxia, the idea being that qi is personal energy and a skilled practitioner can channel their energy into any object, giving them sharp edges or huge kinetic force).

When a woman can use chi, she is a witch. And this is where this becomes HILARIOUS. Because there IS a witch in Mulan (2020).

Xian Lang is a witch.

In her introductory scene, Xian Lang is shown POSSESSING A MAN, her physical form completely disappearing as she does this. She then nails two long range kills using throwing stars and engages in melee combat, easily defeating Imperial guards despite being outnumbered. She is later shown to turn into a bird, or a large swarm of bats. She never turns into multiple birds or a single bat.

Xian Lang was an outcast as a young girl because of her chi. This is why she joined the Rourans, despite being Chinese (as evidenced by her name). She believes that Bori Khan will make a world where girls like her, born with strong chi, will not be outcasts.

Bori Khan treats Xian Lang horribly, being prejudiced against her gender and dismissing her strength. The Rourans in general also hate her for being a witch.

Xian Lang saw through Mulan’s disguise easily and also identifies that she has strong chi.

Oh and Chinese stories rarely have witches, Xian Lang should’ve been an nugui, kind of like an evil spirit or demoness but from Chinese folklore.

Here’s the thing that I find the funniest about the world Mulan (2020) has created.

Women should not be allowed to use chi. It has given all the proof for this rule to exist, and none to dissuade me from agreeing with it. Because the movie gives us two women with strong chi. Mulan, who actively suppresses her chi, and presumably only learns to use it during her training with the army. So, she is a chi beginner. The other woman is Xian Lang, who is immensely strong despite not looking much older than Mulan. She is probably the strongest character in the story, and definitely a chi master. The only other contenders for the title of strongest chi – not gender restricted – are the Emperor and the Commander. I believe the Emperor is stronger because Bori Khan lures him into a trap and still loses men trying to capture him. He restrains the Emperor with a ton of thick ropes. This guy is terrified of the Emperor and from the few times we see the Emperor fight? I don’t blame Bori Khan at all.

And yet the Emperor never possesses people. He doesn’t turn into a bird, or a swarm of bats, even when these would have FREED HIM AND SAVED HIS COUNTRY. Notably, none of this is ever stated as being against chi law. None of these abilities are stated to be the result of evil experimentation, forbidden techniques or any other taboo method. In the worldbuilding of Mulan (2020), Xian Lang’s chi is only evil because she is evil. And she is only evil because she is a woman with strong chi.

Mulan is a woman with strong chi.

The implication, the weird mess that Mulan (2020) has made, is that All Women With Strong Chi Become Witches. And men CANNOT become witches. Men cannot possess others. Men cannot shapeshift. Men can possibly learn to use throwing stars, but this is debatable. Women can not only do all these things, women are FATED to do so. If a woman is born with strong chi she becomes a witch.

And I don’t blame the ancient Chinese for wanting to suppress witchcraft! It looks hecking dangerous! They can possess anyone. They can break into secure spaces by shapeshifting. Sure, it’s not ethical to deny women access to chi because they could potentially become supervillains, but I can see why they went to that conclusion. The movie does nothing to address this. Mulan doesn’t vow to teach girls to use chi for good. But that’s FINE, because Xian Lang only became evil because of sexism, which is solved now, so cue the happy ending.

Even disregarding how the message of the movie is “girls get bullied for being born weird unless they prove themselves worthy of basic respect”, what is this WORLDBUILDING. Is Mulan in danger of poisoning her chi again and becoming a witch? If chi is for warriors, does that mean civilians can’t use chi? What if a farmer is born with strong chi, do we exile him until he becomes a warlock for the Rourans? How often are girls born with chi and how many of them suppress it correctly? Are they killed if they fail? Do they just join a circus and masquerade as acrobats?

Disney, chi is not a magic you can just throw around! It’s not bibbidi-bobbidi-boo! If you have a magical world, you need to teach the audience about the magical world. INSTEAD OF JUST POINTING. AT ANOTHER CULTURE. AND SAYING “THIS IS REPRESENTATION AND IF YOU HAVE PROBLEMS TAKE IT UP WITH THEM”. Yes, qi is part of my culture! CHI. IS. NOT. Its your abomination, stop using OUR STORIES and OUR TRADITIONS as a shield for YOUR SHODDY, LAZY, IDIOTIC WRITING.

Anyway all they had to do was not add ‘chi’ and have Mulan doing normal martial arts for fun or something. Just make her a normal tomboy. Sometimes girls like sport it doesn’t have to be because they were born with baseball magic.

#disney #mulan #mulan 2020 #mulan live action #disney mulan

[rotationalsymmetry]

Fandom, social justice, and You Must:

Good morning all and happy Saturday. (Or whatever day/time of day it is when you read this.)

I just read a post about the Old Guard fandom that has some perfectly fine points about noticing which characters get more focus than others, and then moves on to suggesting an obligation for fans to change which characters and ships they personally focus on.

I think that, while the criticism is absolutely worth making, the solution side of the post is the wrong approach on multiple levels.

The first thing is: you ever read bad representation? Like, a character is technically a Diversity Win but in practice they’re a fucking caricature and have no personality other than their race, gender, whatever was going on with their group of people at a particular point in history, etc?

(There’s one series that is especially notoriously awful about this, the author is Philip Jose Farmer and the first book in the series is To Your Scattered Bodies Go. It’s a sort of big old historical crossover story, except it was mainstream published, and it is so bad. The female characters are women, that is their entire personality. The black characters are black and that’s it. Etc. So bad. Anyways.)

When people are writing (I don’t know if this is as big an issue with fan art) out of a sense of moral obligation or solely to teach a moral lesson without a love of the characters and a willingness to get dirty and do some things their ego doesn’t approve of, you get very flat, dry, stale writing. It’s unappealing. It’s not worth reading. Someone who’s engaging in fandom from a place of “oh, I don’t want people to not like me” or “I am going to be a Racial Justice Ally” is at significant risk of getting into that writer space.

Writing and fandom aren’t something like doing your taxes, where of you don’t really want to do it that doesn’t really matter. They’re more like playing a game with your child or a friend. Your emotional state, whether you’re into it or not, is actually going to influence whether you get the outcome you were hoping for.

So encouraging people to be open to specific possibilities and seeing if something clicks, is good. Gently attempting to expand your own capacity to love specific characters and really get into their inner life and drama, is good, just don’t force it if you give it a fair try and it’s not working. (Like dating? Maybe someone who isn’t the sort of person you dreamed about marrying at age 10 could be a great partner for you, it’s good to be open to the possibilities, but if you go on a couple dates and you don’t even really like spending time with them, it’s time to let it go.)

Nile is a very central character in the movie (I don’t know that she’s the protagonist, surely that’s Andy? We certainly see Andy a lot earlier), but the sort of person who loves Booker for his misery isn’t going to necessarily be able to transfer that over to Nile. Nile is bouncy and idealistic and doesn’t have that much angst and is going to be a lot more appealing to people who like badass fighters who are also kinda cinnamon rolls, which is a pretty different character type than Booker. And yeah, there is a shortage of black women characters who have that level of angst, because of social patterns around who is expected to give empathy and who is expected to receive it.

Some people are going to take a look at Nile or a Nile/??? ship (which...there’s a reason people are hesitant to ship Nile with other Old Guard members, there’s a lot of ways things could get unintentionally oogie there) and just not see anything to connect to in that and that’s OK.

Social justice work is a marathon, not a sprint. And which opportunities for Doing Something make the most sense for each person is going to be highly individual.

And...I’m not saying fandom representation is irrelevant? But...it’s one out of many, many issues that are relevant to social justice. There’s the cop stuff and education and childcare and workplace stuff and...I mean there’s a lot of things that need working on and picking one specific thing that’s relatively symbolic and relatively amenable to a very superficial “look at me I’m performing inclusivity” activism ...I don’t like it.

So, everyone makes this mistake once of trying to pressure people into specific changes that might not work for them, right? No matter how much I got into bicycle advocacy I was never going to get my mom to use a bicycle as a form of transportation. (And due to disability I don’t do that myself any more either.) Her contributions to a greener planet are things like driving a more fuel efficient car and getting thicker, more insulating windows put in and keeping the thermostat at arctic temperatures. You need to learn to be flexible and look for the people who are open to making specific changes and use more honey than vinegar and recognizing that there’s enough things that can be done or need to be done that not every single person needs to do any given thing.

Talking about personal experience can be really helpful here. For instance, talking about how you, personally learned to really love writing about a character that you’d previously dismissed. People need a roadmap, a path to follow. Because if you try to force yourself to love fandom in a way that just doesn’t work for you, well, loving people and loving things and loving fictional characters or ships is something of a miracle and you can be grateful when it happens but you can’t force it.

Oh, end note, I think we can learn something here from how so much of m/m shipping is not written by mlm and how sometimes that leads to things that actual queer men are kind of “wtf?” about? I’m definitely not saying that only black women should write black female characters. I am saying (and the person who wrote the post was white, so I’m not talking over black voices here or w/e) that when you have a situation where people in minority group x are mostly written by people not in that group, sometimes that goes off the rails in ways that are really uncomfortable or at least not actively good for people in group x. And people feeling obligated to write certain characters seems to me like a perfect storm for them writing them both badly, but also maybe badly in a way that might be hard to put into words and suggest corrections for.

#long post #fandom #discourse

[workersolidarity]

You had this post about the villification of socialism and the Soviet Union vs how fascism is becoming more acceptable and you mention something about Stalin not being guilty of murdering millions. I'm studying gcse history, and in our Cold War unit it talked about the purges, gulags etc. I understand there is going to be some western bias but I thought that the purges and deaths caused by Stalin were pretty much undeniable truths? I'm not trying to be malicious, just actually curious.

Actually, there's no evidence Stalin ever committed anything remotely close to a war crime.

First off, most people can't wrap their heads around one very simple but important fact. Stalin was not even close to a dictator and never had powers anywhere near what even the US President has. Barack Obama launched a secret CIA Drone strike without Congressional Authorization in a country we not only weren't at war with, but that wasn't even recognized as having open hostilities with the US.

Everything Stalin did had to go through the Politburo and the Communist Party Leadership. The Western lies about the Governing structure of the Soviet Union not only ignores the countless Beaurocratic hurtles there were before the Secretary General of the Soviet Union could engage any major Policy changes, but it negates and ignores the tens of millions of Soviet Citizens who fought to the death to install the Communist Party to power, and paid the price of seven years of Western Interference leading and arming Nationalists and Fascists to fight a Civil War within the Soviet Union.

The Red Army was nothing but a motley crew of peasants with dated rifles and pitchforks fighting for what they believed in, fighting for the right for their families to live halfway decent lives without Aristocratic landowners taxing away the fruits of their labor.

The Peasants and Proletariat won the Civil War because the Communist Party had won the hearts and minds of the Soviet Citizenry. A Citizenry that gave their lives for Socialism. It was those Soviet Citizens who were responsible for installing Lenin followed by Stalin to power and they trusted him to lead the Communist Party.

That doesn't, however, mean he could snap his fingers and have anything done. And in nearly every single case of some kind of mass trials or murders of dissidents, these cases were approved by the entire Communist Party leadership. The NKVD was given their powers to investigate and make mass arrests, not for no reason at all, but because the Western Colonial Powers, at the height of the Western Capitalist international order, were CONSTANTLY interfering with the affairs of the Soviet Union.

They never stopped supporting with money and arms Ukranian and Russian Nationalist Groups that were responsible for terrorist acts throughout the first decades of the CCCP's founding.

In one famous case, Nikolai Bukharin was speaking to the Communist Party leadership, where he suggesting that the Party forgive the Anarchist groups responsible for terrorist acts across the country. He was hoping that by making peace with the Left-Wing and Anarchist Organizations fighting the Communists they would have an easier time fighting the far more dangerous, Western backed Right-Wing Nationalists that were far more prevelant and dangerous to the young Socialist Republic.

In the middle of Bukharin's speech, an Anarchist group bombed the Meeting of the Party leadership. This wasn't some peaceful situation with evil dictator Stalin murdering his own people for the fun of it! That would make no sense whatsoever!

Instead this was a consistent problem in the early years with Terrorism unlike anything Al Qaeda or ISIS could have ever hoped to accomplish. These were highly organized Terrorist groups made up of Western Backed Paramilitary Organizations, mostly made up of Right-Wing Nationalists and the Capitalists who lost their Industries, Land, and other Property when the Communists Nationalized industry. These were ruthless Kulaks that, although they were offered compensation for the loss of their land, preferred to burn millions of acres of crops and kill millions of Farm Animals rather than see Stalin's Agricultural Co-Ops succeed.

In fact the Kulaks were responsible for the vast majority of the loss in crops during the early 1930's when Western History books tell us Stalin for some reason out-of-the-blue just randomly decided to starve Ukranians and Russian Peasants responsible for putting him in Power in the first place.

The entire Western Narrative of Stalin as brutal dictator is completely absurd. Millions of people across Soviet Union mourned Stalin's death and still celebrate his memory in the streets of Moscow every year. Does that sound like a horrible evil dictator to you?

From beginning to end, the stories were told about Stalin are completely and are in fact varifiably false. Like when they claim Stalin felt threatened by Bukharin and so he was "tortured" and "forced to plead guilty" to the crimes he was put to death for. Uh... yeah no.

Actually Bukharin had a perfectly normal trial, which like today's largest high profile trials in the US were made public. It was maticulously investigated, and Bukharin pled guilty to some but (importantly) NOT ALL of the Charges he was on trial for. If Bukharin was "tortured" and "forced" to plead guilty, why would he plead guilty to charges he knew he was going to put to death for, yet still ademently deny the other charges???

Again, that would make no sense whatsoever.

In fact, in the decades following Stalin's death, many of the lies that are STILL taught as fact about Stalin in Western Schools, were traced to Trotsky in letters released by his children after his own death. In many cases Trotsky's either admits privately to making up stories for the Western Media to help his own position, or he directly contradicts privately the things he was stating publicly that were reported as fact in the Western Media and are STILL treated as such in Western History books.

Another example: the famous quote supposedly from Stalin about one death is a tragedy but a million deaths are a statistic. Actually comes from a FICTIONAL book written by a Russian dissident which was then (once again) quoted as fact by Western Media outlets until it became a fact in the Western History books.

This kind of thing goes on and on and on throughout Stalin's time in leadership. The Western History books of try to depict (conveniently without listing sources) Stalin as a common dictator who was stealing from the Soviet Citizenry, just hustling the Public.

Which is awfully funny for a guy who spent his entire time as Leader of the Soviet Union sharing a Dacha with Chekov, another famous Soviet era Leader. Kind of a curious way to live if you just want power and wealth, don't you think?

Professor Grover Furr, who's spent more time than any other researcher in History studying Stalin and the early years of the Soviet Union, has not found, in any of the Soviet Archives or anywhere else, any example of even a SINGLE CASE where Stalin gave an order to have someone killed. In fact he's hasn't found ANY evidence of even a single case of gross Human Rights Violations, War Crimes or ANYTHING we could classify as a crime. Not one.

And he had written about the results of his research in countless books documenting his work. The Purges: a demand of the Communist Party at large, the Holomodor famine: completely discredited by the late 1930's yet is written about as fact to this day despite the fact that the only newspaper that claimed to have direct source evidence of this "horrible famine" that supposedly killed millions was a newspaper owned by notorious American Fascist William Randolph Hearst who paid shady writers to get dirt on Soviet Society, and also paid Mussolini the equivalent today of $40 million US Dollars to write Fascist Opinion articles in his Newspapers. And the only writer who actually claimed to have seen this famine in person? Went to prison a couple years later for defrauding banks and the US Government and during his trial admitted to making up the stories while he was under oath. It's been completely and utterly discredited. Yet it's in every History book as if it were fact.

I could literally go on and on all day about this. I've done my own research. And as soon as you start getting your information outside of Western sources of History, it's absolutely ASTOUNDING how quickly the veil falls away and the Emperor is standing there with no clothes. It's all bullshit. Top to bottom. When the Communist Party did away with an entire class of Elections that were important for some kind of accountability within the Communist Party, it was Stalin who fought tooth-and-nail with the Party leadership to reinstate public accountability elections and eventually had to come to a compromise with the Party that didn't quite return power to the Soviets but did reinstate certain levels of Public Elections and also gave suffrage to women and opened up Party Elections to women as well.

Stalin was a true believer in Socialist Principles. He fought his whole life to give power to the Working Class. Was he perfect? Of course not. Did he make mistakes? Obviously.

Two things you must keep in mind.

One: this was the world's first attempt at true actually existing Socialism. It's nothing short of amazing how much the Soviet Union, especially at it's peak under Stalin, managed to accomplish in such an incredibly short period of time without a single example in History to follow. In a few short years the Soviet Union went from a backwards, third-world country of extreme poverty made up mostly by peasant Farmers, of whom only a couple percent owned ANY kind of tractors or modern farm equipment at the time. To becoming a behemoth of an Industrial Superpower. Accomplishing what took the US and Britain over 100 years to accomplish in only two decades. Stalin literally installed Farm Equipment depots with all kinds of modern machinery at the time, including tractors, where Farmers could walk right up, take what equipment they needed free of charge, and return it when they were finished.

Rent in the Soviet Union averaged between 2-4% of income. Rent averages between 25-50% of income right now in the US.

Between the early 1930's and 1989, inflation within the Soviet Union was exactly 0%. Prices never changed from the time Stalin stabilized the Economy until perestroika began in 1989.

Literacy was 100% by the time Stalin died. Education was mandatory and college free along with Healthcare.

It's unquestionable that life improved DRAMATICALLY for the vast vast majority of Soviet Citizens. 99% of the 100 million people within the Union saw MASSIVE improvements in public services, Economic stability and growth, income growth, lifespans, huge drops in mortality rates, and in every single measurable way, life improved rapidly on a scale unseen in world history.

Maybe, just maybe, for once we should begin judging the Stalin Era based on the facts and not Capitalist Fiction.

#Stalin #Communism #cccp #Soviet Union #ussr #joseph stalin #comrade stalin #stalin era #the soviet union #soviet union #soviet #j.v. stalin #communist #communists #revolutionary socialism #socialism #socialist #socialists #marxism #marxist #marxist leninist #marxist leninsts #marxists #marxism leninism #marxism leninism maoism #leninism #union of soviet socialist republics #stalin is a hero #fuck trotsky #fuck trots

[lemonyellowlogic]

the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun: chapter one

summary: Prince Roman Sanders of the Sanders Kingdom lived his entire life desiring more than just becoming king, he wanted to actually live, explore the world. When his jealous younger brother plots to kill him, he escapes across the border into Alimagia, a realm of magic users who his father tried to destroy, and is found by a group of Alimagians.

Roman hides his identity from them, living peacefully until neighboring villages are beginning to be attacked by the kingdom for the first time in decades. Roman has to figure out a way to save his kingdom and Alimagia with the help of the people his kingdom attempted to erase, but can he do that while still managing to hide the secrets he holds buried deep down?

-o-

masterlist

-o-

chapter one: the beginning

“My son, long ago, in this world, there was a kingdom ruled by men, named the Sanders Kingdom. This kingdom ruled over all of the humans, the purest of the races.

But, across the border lay the realm of Alimagia, where the wicked magic creatures lived and plotted. Years and years ago, they had free reign over all of the world, but a single man refused to bow down to their evil. 

He gathered an army, and defeated the wicked Alimagians, pushing them behind the border and allowing the humans to be free. This man was named Thomas Sanders, and it was him that the kingdom was named after. He ruled for the rest of his life as a kind, just leader, and it is him that the kings have always looked up to.

You, my son, are the descendant of the great King Thomas, and one day, it will be you who will be the kind and just king our people need.”

The young prince looked up to his father with bright eyes, a wide smile on his face.

“I will, papa! I’ll defeat the evil Ali...Alimag…”

His mother helped him, “Alimagians, dear.” as she played with his little brother, Remus, near the king and prince.

“Yeah, I'll defeat them, mama! I’ll make sure you never get hurt!!”

The queen chuckled, but her smile didn't reach her eyes as she held her child close to her breast, “Alright, Roman. Alright.”

--

Roman sat, his back completely straight as he listened to the court talk about new taxes and what have you. The prince didn’t care much for such meetings, but, if he was to be king one day, it was important he learned of every aspect that there was to ruling the beautiful kingdom of Sanders.

However, his mind loved to wander during them, and so off it went, imagining a world of fun and freedom. Roman wished that he could just hop onto a horse and ride into the sunset, but he couldn’t. He had his people to think of, and his father and brother to worry about. He’d love to at least know what was beyond the forest that grew wild on their northern border, because at least then the people wouldn’t have to be afraid of it. Alimagia was a dangerous place, but how dangerous could it-

“Roman!” The king barked, and the prince jumped, his mind clearing and returning back to his head. The court all stared at him, awaiting his response, most relaxed but some annoyed.

Roma sheepishly grinned, “I apologize, what was the question at hand?”

His father took a deep breath, pinching his brow, “The court asked if you had any other idea of what the increase on the people’s income tax should be or how it should be announced.”

Roman’s hand went to his chin, his thumb sweeping across his lips as he thought. 

The court liked him enough. It was a mixture of people, one leader representing each village in the kingdom, some poor and some filthy rich. Roman, as a prince, would consider himself to be wealthy, but he was born into wealth and had done nothing to gain it. He had spoken with the poorest villages of the castle’s adjoining town and he wanted to speak for their plight, because Roman knew that they needed the loudest voices to speak for them.

“Well, it shouldn’t be one general number. The very poor shouldn’t pay the same as the very richest. One-tenth of everyone’s income if their income passes…” Roman hummed, “Let’s say fifty-thousand gold per year should probably be enough to sustain our kingdom comfortably if everyone does their share.”

His father nodded, many representatives smiling gratefully at him while others scowled. 

“I see your point, my son. We will continue to speak on the subject another day, however, as this day’s time has almost run out.”

The king stood, “This meeting is adjourned,” and the representatives filed out of the door one by one and continued out of sight down the halls. Roman planned on following them out the door and talking to Elliott, the youngest representative and elected leader of the village Beania. However, he was stopped by someone forcefully grabbing the back of his tunic, pulling him back. 

He jumped in surprise, but his face quickly settled as he stared at his younger brother, Remus.

Rolling his eyes, he asked, “What is it, Remus?”

“What, I can’t just ask my big brother how the meeting went? Wow, how cruel of you. I’m hurt.”

Roman pushes the man off him, straightening his tunic as he glared back at him.

“Name one time you ever actually asked about my day.”

Remus looked back at his, his brow furrowing. Roman continued, “Anyways, it was fine. We got things done and I believe the people will be pleased. Is that all?”

“Ooh, pleased. What does that mean? You gonna give them prostitutes?”

Roman’s face contorted and he brushed an imaginary piece of dust off of his shoulder, “No, you dimwit. The tax will be equal throughout all of the people past a certain point.”

“Uh oh, I dunno if people will be happy with that, especially people who’ve been at our father’s side the longest. You prepared for them to leave you, to leave us?”

Roman sighed, “You have nothing to do with this, Remus, and those people were at our father’s side for the wrong reason, but of course you wouldn’t know. Have you ever taken a simple class on civics?”

Remus’ face reddened, “Well, no, but that doesn’t matter!” 

He spat, “I’ve learned more from being at our fathers side throughout the years then you’ve learned in some dumb class. I should be king!”

Roman rolled his eyes, “Stop making a scene, Remus.”

“A scene! I-You!”

Remus glanced around and saw most of the nobles and leaders eyes on his, confused and annoyed at his yelling. He growled, pushing Roman back and running out the hallway. 

Roman sighed, straightening his tunic as he turned to look at Elliott, who rolled their eyes and clapped Roman’s arm as they walked up to him.

“Sorry about your brother, do you know what’s going on with him?”

Roman chuckled as the two continued walking, “This is normal, he’s usually like this.”

“What’d you mean?”

“He always starts idiotic arguments in an attept to humiliate me, but he always ends up making a fool of himself instead. I don't know why he dislikes me so, but it’s just a fact of life.”

“Is he jealous of the throne?”

“Possibly. However, that doesn’t matter. How is your village?”

“We are...alright. We’re running a bit low on seeds for our crops as multiple of our farmers had some thieves during the summer who stole some supplies.”

“How many do you need?”

“Ehh, a few pounds for each farmer, if that is alright?”

“I’ll talk to my father about it, but I think that is definitely doable.”

“Truly? Oh, thank you, Roman.”

“It’s nothing, Elliott.”

The prince yawned as they walked, and Elliott smiled at him. He smiled back sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he cracked it, “Apologies, my good friend, but I’m truly exhausted after today. I’ve got to head to sleep, but I will see you tomorrow.”

“Alright, goodbye!”

Roman waved them goodbye as he walked to his bedroom, sighing as he closed his door. Sitting on his bed, he pinched his brow. He laid back, staring at his ceiling, the stars painted by his mother shimmering with the setting sun's light.

Roman often wonders how different his life would've been if he was born to a common family. He would be able to have friends outside of politics, maybe even jousting or becoming a knight, but no. Roman was to become king, and though politics were not something he loved, he had to allow it to become his life and his passion to help his country.

Maybe Roman could've even found love. But no, his love had to be political, choosing from one of the nobles’ or chiefs’ daughters to wed instead of finding it naturally. He wasn’t even sure if he liked women at all, but that doesn’t matter, it’s his job to be king and to have a successor. He wasn’t allowed to love someone who couldn’t help him be king, so he wasn’t allowed to make his own choices.

It made him sad. He wanted to be his own person, to be free, but he isn’t allowed.

Looking out of his window, Roman saw that it was almost completely night, and so he got ready for sleep. Roman shrugged off his tunic and slacks, throwing them into a hamper the maids would pick up the next morning. He tiredly put on some sleeping clothes before falling into his bed, leaving his candle lit as he wrapped himself into a tight cocoon of warmth and passed out.

--

Remus grumbled to himself as he stalked through the hallways, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It wasn’t fair. Roman was the worst person for king, but only because he was born first, he got to rule. Sure, Remus may not know as much politics as his brother, but he is still educated on the subject, he is, after all, second in line.

A thought seemed to fall into Remus’ head, and he froze where he stood. If Roman were dead, Remus would be the only candidate for king. But, Roman wouldn’t just die out of nowhere and Remus couldn’t do that to his brother, he’d look like a monster if he was caught. He has to make a plan. As he walked by Roman’s slightly ajar door, he peeked in, and a grin split upon his face upon the sight of his brother in bed. Perfect.

-o-

next

#lemon talks #lemon writes #the harder the rain the sweeter the sun #thtrtsts #thtrtsts spoilers #ts sides #sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #unsympathetic remus #dlamp #lamp

[kaiju-emperor]

d’Artagan (Saber) Character Concept

(d’Artagan servant outfit. Art by @angelicvangaart​ Thank so much for this amazing work! Please go give them your support)

One of the central characters of Alexdre Dumas’s classic ‘The Three Musketeers’. d’Artagan was a young woman, who dreamt of being a musketeer and traveled to Paris. There, she met the titular Three Musketeers, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. The four would go on many adventures together, and d’artagan would come into her own as a great sword fighter. 

d’Artagan takes the form of a woman in her mid twenties, with flowing locks of brown hair. Her usual attire is the leather armor and cape of her musketeer uniform. She wields a basket hilt rapier, a parrying dagger and flintlock pistol with deadly accuracy.

d’Artagan has an easygoing and ‘rougeish’ personality. She is ‘romantic’ in the classical sense of the word, having a deep sense of honor and manners. Her tongue, and wit are sharp, offering witty quips and jibes in and out of battle. However, she knows when the time for such things is over.

As a servant, d’Artagan is a master of the blade. She was more than likely one of the greatest swordmasters of her era. She strikes with precision, and finesse over brute force. Using diversion, positioning and superior skill to win over her opponents.

(Casual d’Artagan)

Parameters

Strength:C+

Endurance:B

Agility: A

Magic Power:C

Luck A+

Noble Phantasm:A

Skills

Charisma C+:Despite not being a leader, d’artagnan has a decently high charisma stat. Her personality is infectious and she has a way with words.

Riding B+: Like most musketeers d’Artagan was trained in the art of horsemanship. She even has some knowledge about sailing thanks to her travels

Magic Resistance B: Being a saber class servant, d’Artagan is granted a high level of magic resistance. 

Noble Phantasms

Tous Pour Un: Musketeer’s Bond Rank B

A secondary noble phantasm to d’Artagan’s main one. Using this power, she can call on a phantom of one of the other musketeers. They infuse her with power, each one granting a different boon. Calling upon the power of Porthos, her Strength and Endurance stat increase, allowing her to clash with opponents physically stronger than herself. Calling upon Aramis grants her keen vision, and agility. It also summons Aramis’s trusty musket, which is a low ranked noble phantasm in and of itself. Finally, by calling upon Athos, the phantom of Athos will strike alongside d’Artagan, mirroring her moves, or defending her from harm. Allowing her incredible versatility in combat. As well as the ability to stand toe to toe with servants whose skill exceeded normal humans in life.

Un Pour Tous, Tous Pour Un: Oath Of The Musketeers Rank A

The full power and form of d’Artagan’s noble phantasm. It is a crystallization of her oath, and friendship with the other musketeers. A representation of their intertwined legend. By speaking the famous oath of the musketeers, d’Artagan creates a reality marble that is an image of the Palace Of Fontainebleau. Inside of the bounds of the reality marble, she summons the full forms of her three companions Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. All three of them are full servants in their own right and their parameters are on par with d’Artagan herself. As long as the reality marble is maintained, the four will fight together to defeat their enemy. It is here that the full power of the musketeers is seen. Within the space of the reality marble, things such as authority and divinity do not matter. All are equal within. Which allows the musketeers to harm divine beings despite not having divine weapons or divinity themselves.  

FGO version

4* Saber

Deck

Passive Skills

Riding Rank B+:Increase Quick performance by 9%

Magic Resistance B: Increases own debuff resistance by 17.5%.

Active Skills

Charisma C+ : Increase attack party attack  for 3 turns. from 8.5 to 17%

Un Pour Tous: Porthos: Increase own attack for 3 turns from 10-20% Apply Debuff Immune for 3 turns

Un Pour Tous:Aramis: Apply evade to self for two attacks. And apply sure hit to self and gain 10-15 crit stars. 

Noble Phantasm

Un Pour Tous, Tous Pour Un: Oath Of The Musketeers Rank A, Type:Arts, Anti Unit

Deals 900-1500% damage to a single enemy that ignores defense. Overcharge Increase NP gain for 3 turns from 20-40% (activates first)

Dialogue

Summon

“I have answered your call, I d’Artagan shall be your sword and your shield. Hehe, sorry that was far too formal. Let me try again. I am d’Artagan, Saber class. *leans down to kiss your hand* “Enchante, My Lord/Lady. I hope my companions and I can serve you well.”

Level Up

“ Ah je me sens déjà plus fort!” (Translation:Ah.  I feel stronger already)

Battle Start

En garde!  Prêts? Allez!  (Translation: On guard! Ready! Lets begin!)

Battle Start 2

All For One, And One For All! (Randomly said in French or English)

Attack 1

“Advance! Hah!”

Attack 2

“Attaque au Fer!”

Attack 3

“Doublé!”

Extra Attack

“Parry! Then...thrust!”

Hit By Noble Phantasm

“Gahhh I must...endure!”

Defeat

Ah! Tou...che.

First Skill Used

Transmettre mes amis! (Translation: Onward, my friends!)

Second Skill Used

Porthos! I need your strength!

Third Skill Used

Aramis! Grant me your speed!

Noble Phantasm Selected

“It is time, my friends!”

Noble Phantasm Used

“Let me show you, the strength of our bond, of our oath. The dream of our legend! All For One, And One For All! Athos! Porthos! Aramis! Fight by my side once more!”

My Room Lines

(If you have Jeanne d’Arc Ruler/Archer) “Mon dieu! Is that Jeanne d’Arc?! I was told stories of her as a child. It is such an honor to meet her in the flesh! She is truly as beautiful and radiant as I imagined.”

(If you have Chevalier d’Eon) “A fellow knight of France! It is a pleasure to meet someone who served the country as I did! To think that there would be future knights as lovely and cute as yourself! Hahaha! No need to blush!”

(if you have Marie Antoinette) *quickly bows* “I can tell just from your beauty and countenance that you are of royal blood. A future queen of France you say? So, I was right! I do seem to have a talent for reading resplendent beauties.”

(if you have Edmon Dantes) “That man... He has a dark aura about him. I feel the pain in his eyes. What must he have suffered to have such eyes?”

(if you have Astolfo) “I’ve been spending some time with Astolfo lately. They are quite the character. On the surface they seem quite strange and lack common sense. However, deep within they truly are worthy of being a paladin of the great Charlemagne”

During an Event

“It seems something exciting is happening out there, master. A festival perhaps? Let us go and see.”

Likes

“Things that I like? Hmmm. Wine, roses, books, and poetry. But the thing I love most, are women. Eh? That last one was obvious?”

Dislikes

“Dishonorable types. Backstabbers, traitors and the like. The worst types like that however, are the ones who make women cry.”

About the other musketeers.

“You want to hear about Porthos? Porthos was a boisterous man, always smiling. He had a hearty loud laugh. He was also a bit of a dandy. Always wanting to wear the latest fashions and look his best. I never knew a man who shined his boots more.”

“Aramis was a ladies man, through and through. Despite being highly religious he always seemed to find time for women. *sighs* More than once I caught him knocking boots with the nuns of various churches. But, despite all that, he was a good and stalwart friend, and he always respected when a woman was not interested in him.”

“Athos... Athos was... He was like a father to me. He was the one who taught me how to fight with a blade. I looked up to him, and loved him dearly. But, he was also a haunted man. I often found him drinking away his sorrows. Curse that Lady de Winter...”

Bond 1 “Good day to you my lord/lady. I hope you are doing well. I’m still trying to get used to this modern place. Its a lot to take in.”

Bond 2 “Walking among these halls of heroes, I feel like I’m back at the musketeer barracks again. Just without all the drills, haha!”

Bond 3: “I was not born a noble like the other musketeers. I was a simple farmer’s daughter. But I dreamed of being one despite all that. I remember arriving in Paris, my eyes wide with wonder, and head full of dreams. Ah, sorry, I’m rambling.”

Bond 4:”Hmm? You want to know more about my childhood? Well, there’s not much to tell. I was a farmer’s daughter, as I said. I grew up in the fields of France, milking cows, collecting eggs, milling grain and so on. It was a simple life. But I don’t think it was for me in the end.”

Bond 5(if male mc): “Master, I wish to offer my fealty again. You are my king, and I your loyal musketeer. You are truly a great and kind leader. I could not ask for a better lord to serve.”

Bond 5(if female mc): “Good day, my lady. I hope you’re well. I have something special planned for us today. I’ve arranged a rayshift to the rolling fields of France. A perfect place for a romantic picnic, oui?~ Shall we, my lady? There’s no need to be shy. Take my hand, ma petite fleur~”

Bond CE: “Note From The King”

Effect: “Party Quick, and Arts up by 10% “

“I remember that day. It was many years after my friends and I had drifted apart. I had been recognized for my accomplishments, despite my common birth. I was leading France’s forces against the United Provinces. During the  Siege of Maastricht, I was reading a letter signed with the royal seal. I was to be made into ‘The Marshal Of France’ the highest honor I could ever hope to achieve. I can hear the ringing of the sudden gunshot that followed. The feeling of the musket ball piercing my chest... Blood leaked from lips and I felt my life ebbing.  ‘Athos, Porthos, Aramis, adieu forever....’ “

#fate #fate series #fgo #fate grand order #the three musketeers #fate oc #servant oc

[ourimpavidheroine]

Hey Impavid. Hope you don't mind me doing multiple asks. Lantern; maple; fireside; spice?

I do not! (I did maple already so I’ll skip that one.)

lantern - how did you meet your best friend? What were your first impressions of each other?

We met through a (then) mutual friend. This was 25 years ago. Her friend and my friend were co-workers and we all did brunch, sort of like Sex in the City except we were all women in our 20′s who were not wildly successful New Yorkers. She and I hit it off immediately; I spilled coffee down the front of my shirt and she dribbled syrup all over hers and we talked about Star Trek slash and the fact that her parents were bonifide pagan hippies (her parents were/are highly involved in the whole Bay Area pagan scene, like, they are actually kind of famous that way, I love her parents deeply) and how she rebelled against that in high school by joining a Methodist Church youth choir (seriously, it’s fucking hilarious, how pagan kids rebel, she even wore preppy clothes) and our favorite children’s books and how my great-grandmother read tarot cards and how I was in a private kid genius school until I was 10 and we moved and how devastating going to a regular school was for me and meanwhile our mutual friends went home and we walked together to the Farmer’s Market and bought stuff and then went back to my place and made dinner and she ended up sleeping on the couch. When my wife died she told her work she needed time off (she was a highly placed individual at Mozilla at that point) and left her own kids with her husband to fly right here to stay with me for three weeks to help me take care of the kids. I miss her like fucking crazy. Her husband is 19 years older than she is and the plan is that when he’s gone we’ll move in together and be very, very happy. (Which uh, sounds kind of ghoulish but both he and my late wife knew the plan, and they were both okay with that.)

fireside - if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like?

It would be comfortable, for one thing. No tags, nothing poking/rubbing on my skin, nothing that was binding. Everything soft, cottons or velvets or the like. I like weird, eclectic, colorful and whimsical clothing, but nothing ever fits me because I am short and fat and shaped like a gnome. So I would like to be able to wear all the awesome weird stuff I see but that would never fit because apparently short, fat ladies are meant to wear ugly polyester clothing in black and animal print with randomly placed sequins. (I might have some feelings about this.)

spice - have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted?

Yes. More than once. Including a flat in Oakland, California, where things would roll across the floor, the lights would go on and off, my TV volume would turn up and down on its own, and all the cabinets/drawers would be open in the kitchen in the morning when it was only me and my cat living there. Ghosts do not, in general, freak me out (I have an extremely low freakout level for the weird, it’s shit like loud noises and bright lights that freak me out, not some dead person doing their own thing) and so I tend to just sort of go about my business. (I did ask the Formerly Living Person in the Oakland flat if they could please leave my PC alone because I couldn’t afford to replace it if they messed with its electronics and after that my PC was left alone, so we were good.) Once, however, I did walk into a building that was a former factory here in Finland (there was a rehearsal space there) and I immediately walked back out. I don’t know what was going on there but it was not good in the slightest and I was not having any of it whatsoever. A friend who was with me followed me out and was like, uh...? And I said, sorry my guy, I cannot go back in there, I could not tell you why but it’s not happening. Something is very much super ungood there. And he just nodded, shrugged a single shoulder, lit a cigarette and said, “Okay.” (The guy was French, this is how he handled 95% of situations, the other 5% losing his temper in the most showy, Gallic way possible.) And no, before you ask, I still don’t know and furthermore, I don’t want to know. That place and I are just going to avoid each other forevermore, the end.

#personal #Anonymous