#apologies if there were any double-tags for those with sideblogs !

[writing-havoc]

I'm literally obsessed. I'm sure you've seen my stalking your recent kaz x reader fics and I will not apologize for it! You're amazing!!! Can I request a Kaz x reader with the two prompts (from a post you rebloged):

"You're a little hurt, that's all" (said by Kaz)

and

“You need to distract me. do something, anything.“ (said by Reader)

PS I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort. ;)

But seriously though. You're writing is amazing, and I hope you know that. ❤ Thank you for the extra comfort character content!!!

Dust and Rubble

♡ Summary: A plan goes wrong. You get injured. Kaz tries to help

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Warnings: Vomit, Blood, Description of Injury

♡ WC: 4.7k

♡ Prompts: "You're a little hurt, that's all." // "You need to distract me. Do something, anything."

I seen your comment on my masterlist post but since this is a sideblog, I couldn't reply. But, yes! I will tag you in all my Kaz fics from here on if I remember to :]. Thank you for all the kind words you've been sending me.

Please excuse any grammar and spelling errors. Hope you enjoy <3

Prompts used came from this list by screnwriter

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The dress clothes you were wearing were made out of some of the finest exported materials you could get in Ketterdam, stolen from the closet of a high end family a mission was centered around months ago. It was your favorite color, and it was a crime that it wasn't simply named after you with how stunning you looked dressed in it from head to toe under the yellow lights of the ballroom, your skin shinning and teeth glowing from pure euphoria.

You fit in perfectly.

It was truly life's biggest shame that it would most certainly be drenched in dust, rubble, and blood by now.

Kaz sat up, eyes blurry and doubled- no, quadrupled, and ears ringing louder than the screams escaping from the throats of those who just became widows. His head was pounding, entire body begging him to lay down where he sat struggling and just rest for five more minutes.

But he couldn't. He absolutely could not. He had to find you. He had to find the others, and get the fuck out of here.

He rubbed at his eyes, gloves unhelpful as they dragged even more dust on his eye lids. A handkerchief in his dress-pocket was missing, so it was either fumble around with his eyes closed or deal with the consequences of dust filled eyes watering uncontrollably.

The latter was the option he went with.

His bad leg screamed as he pulled himself upright. Every breath was a fight, but nothing seemed to be broken or bloody. Just incredibly sore and leaden with what he's now registering as lifeless bodies thrown on top of him by the blast.

He wants to expel his entire stomach.

Waves clash at his knees, spreading up his thighs as he feels the weight of a severed arm slide off his back and drag down his body, hitting the floor with what should be a thump but is just followed by more ringing.

The only reason he knows he's not completely deaf is because he can heat the higher pitched screams around him, and voices that are running by him sound like they're underwater.

This is, by all means, a good sign.

As the last of the dirt is filtered out of his eyes by tears, he takes a good look around.

Women and men alike are sprinting around the ball room, looking for their loved ones and helping out those who are still looking. Some find eachother across the room and run into eachothers arms, embracing eachother tightly no matter how much pain they were in. Others clutch the lifeless bodies of their deceased or injured partners, begging to the saints and anyone around them to help.

Kaz's heart is pounding. He can feel it now, trying to claw its way out of his chest because he can't fucking see you and his leg hurts so bad it feels like he broke it again. But he forces himself to walk forward, to look up instead of down because if you're anything else but fine then he has to face the reality that he may have to adjust to this stupid saintless world without you in it and he's not sure he could cope with that.

Fuck, where did it go wrong?

The bombs weren't supposed to be anywhere near the inside of this room. They were supposed to be outside on dumpsters and inside crates to create distractions and block off paths in their escape. Were they labeled wrong? Did they bring them inside? But they were old and rotting. There shouldn't have been anything useful in them that would require them to bring them inside for literally any reason.

Did Wylan place them on the wrong crates? Did someone bring them inside in a drunken haze? But, how did parts of the fucking ceiling come crashing down?

The blueprints had to have been wrong. Everything must have been wrong when coming up with this plan and he didn't see it in the entire month it was being fleshed out.

Kaz tripped on a piece of rebar, it's presence covered by the torn dress of a different guest. His foot was sent alight with pain, knees landing awkwardly on palm sized pieces of rocks that made them feel fuzzy.

For fucks sake, where the hell are you?

And in a horribly timed moment, when he's on his stomach and arms feeling like jelly as they hoisted his body up, that is when he saw you.

He will never forget the full body reaction he had when he saw you.

You were laying face first on the ground, your clothes torn and soaked with blood that for a moment he hoped wasn't yours, but instantly knew it was.

Because in a terrible fit of irony, there was two large pieces of stained glass sticking out of your back. And Kaz wanted nothing more than to release the entirety of his stomach contents when he noticed they almost looked like wings.

This was a joke. A horrible, horrible joke.

In that moment, however, he saw your arms move, hand coming to rub at your face and another attempting to roll yourself on your side.

Your movement caused one of the shards to tilt, falling out of your wound and shattering against the ground. He's never heard more clearly than then when you let out a blood curdling scream as it tore your flesh and the other tilted as well.

It, however, didn't fall out, and only hooked itself under your skin, pulling it up and outward.

In an extraordinary display of adrenaline, Kaz lifted his body off the ground and marched on over to you.

"Y/n." He tried, hearing coming back to him in full swing.

It was overwhelming, the amount of people screaming and the sound of rubble falling against eachother. Bodies squelching as people stepped on them in their rush to get out and your cries as you continued to try and hoist yourself up.

He tried to stop you, but couldn't get there in time as the other largest shard slid out of your body and stained the floor with your blood.

"Y/n!" He called. He sank to his knees when he got to you, hardly thinking as he helped to get you on your hands and knees.

The water dragged up to his waist, splashing on his stomach. It jostled his stomach and made it very, very difficult to not regurgitate everything he had eaten.

"Kaz." Your voice was gruff and he watched in horror as blood mixed with your spit and fell to the floor.

He lifted you up, letting you sit on your legs to get a good look at you.

Your hair was filled with dirt and dust, eyelashes caked similarly. Red dripped from your busted bottom lip and down your chin. The gash was sure to scar, but at least the blood wasn't from a chest wound like he thought.

"Kaz." You called again, letting your head loll around. "Kaz my back really hurts. And my head." You tried to bring your arms up but let out a strangled sob when you couldn't.

"You're a little hurt, thats all." He lied, completely betraying his own mantra. Your clothes were becoming soaked in your blood and there was no fucking way he was going to be able to get you out without damn near carrying you and the water was already too high.

Without allowing himself to think about it, he got up and hooked his hands under your arms. You howled with pain, but you at least had the sense to help him as your wobbly legs straightened. Tears streamed down your face and your arms hung limp, but at least you were up.

"Alright, dove." He swallowed his spit, squeezing it past the lump in his throat. "We need to go, okay? We need to get out of here."

"But, the job-"

"Fuck the job." The words sounded wrong coming out of his mouth. "We can attempt it again a different day. But we need to live to see that day, yeah?"

You nodded, and he couldn't help but be a little grateful that you were a little out of it.

He tried his best to encourage you forward, but words of encouragement are the bottom of his list of things he's adept at, especially in situations such as this. So it was mostly limited to "Right there" and "You're okay."

You were no more than forty feet from the Slat when you went still, eyes squeezed shut and arms still hanging limp at your sides. The back of your clothes were soaked and slowly seeping to the sides. It slowed a lot since you began your trek back, but it was still concerning.

"We have to keep going."

"You need to distract me." You blurted, taking a staggering step forward. "Do something. Anything."

"Distraction." He mumbled, mostly to himself, partly to you because what the fuck was he supposed to do? There was nothing around he could use and his leg felt like it was splintering in his calf.

He could say something. Maybe put you into shock somehow. But you don't get shocked easily and you're usually the one spitting out random facts and tidbits of information. He doesn't have random facts and tidbits of information stored in his head outside of the ones you've given him-

Well. Actually...

"Did you know birds have one of the most sophisticated and impressive breathing systems of any animal?"

You lifted your head, peeking your eyes open to look at him with an expression of intrigue underneath the pain.

He went on. "They've got airsacs. Attached to their lungs." He struggled for the information. "They've usually got about nine, three up front and six in the back in their rump."

You chuckled childishly. "Rump."

"Yes, rump." He fought off a smile. "It takes two breathing cycles to complete one breath. If I'm not mistaken, it's called unidirectional breathing. We use bidirectional. In and out. They breathe in while also breathing out."

You trudged forward, nearly there. "Is that why their bones are hollow?"

He stared in slight surprise. "Yes, actually. They've got pneumatic bones with big open crevices that store air, which in turn helps them with flying."

"That's so cool."

"Learned it a while ago while listening to some tourist veterinarian while on a job." He could recall the job nearly perfectly. "He had various picturegraphs and diagrams-"

Kaz took a step forward and hollered in pain with a closed mouth, bad leg completely collapsing underneath him. It was probably fractured again.

He should have told you to shut up and keep walking. Instead he indulged you and got distracted trying to distract you.

Yet, he doesn't regret it.

"You okay?" You leaned down as much as your body would let you, wincing in pain every inch down.

He was about to respond when you seemed to have bent down too far, your entire body collapsing to the ground. You only had enough time to stop your head from cracking against the wet cobblestone ground before you went unconscious, body ragdolling in a pile of limbs.

The entire world seemed to be crashing again. In the back of his mind he knew he should act rationally, pick you up and drag you to the Slat, but he couldn't get his body to move.

'You're dead' he thought. 'You've lost too much blood. You died.'

Those thoughts were only there for a moment before he sprung into action, letting the rational take over and hoisting you up and over his shoulder. He ignored the searing pain in his leg and the waves crashing at his chest and licking up his neck, limping to the door of the Slat and throwing it open.

He was lucky that Nina had made it back some time ago.

Very, very lucky.

"Zenik!" He called out. She responded immediately, her entire face falling as she seen who he was holding. Matthias' name was out of her mouth in an instant, his hulking body coming from around the corner. He stares for no more than a second before running over and taking you from Kaz's back.

"What happened?" She asked as she rushed down the stairs and into the makeshift infirmary, Matthias in front and Kaz taking up the rear.

"Glass shards. Stuck right through about three inches."

She ordered Matthias to set you down on your side. Placing you on your chest posed too much risk to your breathing stopping completely. Nina immediately got to work, tearing the clothes off your shoulders and exposing your back.

Her hands hovered over the gashes on your back, eyes squinted as she felt around for the damage. She cursed and moved her hands, the room watching as your muscles began to flex and more blood poured from your wounds. He nearly yelled at her to demand an explanation when a smaller piece of glass exited the wounds. She took them and dropped them in a bucket next to the table.

"They were moving around as you two were walking, going deeper." She closed her eyes completely now, hands immediately back to the gashes. "One of them nicked an artery."

"Fix it." He ordered.

"Oh really? That's what I should be doing?" Her eyes snapped open, glaring at your back. He knew they were supposed to be directed at him. "I thought I was supposed to be cutting it."

He glared at the side of her face. "Don't get smart with me, Zenik."

"Then don't give me stupid orders."

And he knows it was a stupid order. He knows. But he had to say it. He had to.

He paced around the little amount of open space he had. His skin felt like it was crawling where he slung you over his shoulder and he was drowning, the water covering his nose and nearly covering his eyes. His stomach felt like it was turning inside out, guts twisting at sharp angles. He was absolutely soaking in his own sweat and his fucking leg-

"Kaz if you're going to pace you're going to have to leave. It's distracting."

"Last I checked you don't give orders around here."

"No, I don't. But I'm the one currently fixing your love interest and I need silence and no distractions to achieve that."

He felt his shoulders bristle and cheeks grows warm. "Y/n's not my love interest."

That got a chuckle out of her. "Please, Brekker. Don't lie to yourself. It makes you look daft." He was about to retort, but the door above slammed open, Pim popping her head around the corner once she trekked her way down the stairs.

"Jesper and the rest of the crew are back."

White hot anger surged in his blood. When he got ahold of them he would tear them in half.

His eyes flickered to your body, Matthias holding you on your side with Nina pouring every ounce of her focus into fixing your wounds. And then he thought of himself, pestering her like a gnat to fresh fruit and being of no help at all.

He really wasn't like himself. Not with you.

"I'll be there in a moment." He leveled his voice. "Herd them to my office."

Pim nodded and disappeared up the stairs.

He waited until the footsteps faded until he looked at Nina again. A thin sheen of sweat was plastering to her forehead.

He took a deep breath, and then grabbed a nearby bucket and discarded any and all of his insides into it. Spit collected in his cheeks, making them burn as it coated his teeth. The back of his throat burned. He swished it around, spitting whatever was left into the bucket. He dryheaved for a few moments, cursing all the saints he didn't believe in before putting the bucket back where it came from, wiping trickles of bile from his lips and transferring it to his clothes.

The water was lowering, heavy against his chest but no longer covering his face. He tried to remember your warmth, a stark contrast to the charactered piercing cold of corpses, and walked around the table and up the stairs.

"If she dies, Zenik, so do you." He completely ignored Matthias' protective growl.

She nodded. "Noted."

He held onto the railing, knuckles turning white underneath his gloves. The backs of his cheeks were collecting spit once more, stomach contracting. He begged to his own body to just wait a little longer, and took the last step up and into the main floor of the Slat.

Dregs stared, but he couldn't be bothered with them. All he could see was red and green and feel red and blue, and the only people that could explain this was up several stairs and in his office.

It was a blur all the way up until he reached his door and swung it open. Jesper, Wylan, and Inej were sitting around the room, all staring at him with a look of guilt and mild fear.

He closed the door behind him and grabbed his cane from the umbrella bucket. It wasn't loud, but the sound was firm and noticeably being masked as something it was not.

With gritted teeth and venom in his voice, his question-turned-statement rang clear in the quiet room.

"What. Happened."

-----------

You were dressed in a baggy white button-up shirt and the coziest pair of sleep pants that Kaz could find in Ketterdam. The material wasnt itchy. Rather, it was soft and felt addicting on the pads of his fingers when he dragged them over it, slow and meticulous. They weren't nearly as high end as the clothes you were in before, and they weren't your favorite color by a long shot, but you still looked as attractive as ever.

The chair Kaz was sitting in was old and uncomfortable. Everytime he shifted he felt as if it would break underneath him. The wood bent and groaned no matter what position he took, but he would deal with it as he always does.

He watched your breathing, eyes glued to your chest for any sign that you were going under.

It had been several days since the mishap at the ball, and he was still as angry as he was that day after walking up all those steps to his office for an explanation.

It was stupid. The mistakes that were made were childish at best, completely and utterly rubbish at worst. A child could have done better. A child after downing several pints of beer could have done better.

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his rapidly beating heart.

He's already gotten too worked up over this several times, a sour mood following him day in and day out.

Nina was able to fix your artery, but it was the loss of blood that truly worried her. She had no idea if you would pull through, but she did her best.

Realistically, Kaz couldn't blame her. He knew that she would do her best and then some to make sure that you would have the best chance of pulling through. But seeing you still unconscious, even if Nina was the one keeping you under, made him resent her a little. A lot. But you being kept unconscious with your healing process sped up was the fastest way for you to recover, so he'll keep his mouth shut and his brooding (for the most part) to himself.

Being down here gave him a lot of time to think. Which usually wasn't a problem. He treasured the time he got to himself, to continue scheming and analyzing blueprints and updating ledgers. Small meticulous tasks to fill his day and cards and dice to fill his night.

But he didn't realize that he treasured the small moments with you even more. Even if you didn't invade his space directly, he enjoyed the subtle ways in which you did.

The tea you brought him late at night would sit on a coaster next to the papers on his desk, the aroma filling his nose as he drunk it slowly, savoring the way you got it right almost every time these days. Little sayings you spewed at random moments would sit in his mind, always just to the left of his current thoughts. Little trinkets you found that you thought he would enjoy would find their place around his office or in a drawer just dedicated to you.

He didn't get those anymore. Not with you down here.

He shifted, internally wincing at the way the chair groaned.

It was loud enough that he missed your own groan. But he didn't miss the way you shifted and the way his name fell from your lips.

"Kaz?" You called into the room.

"To your right." He could attempt to play this cool all he wanted, but the second his own voice made it back to his ears he knew pretending was futile.

You turned your head, and your entire body relaxed when your eyes scanned his virtually unscathed body. He didn't realize the weight that he was carrying on his shoulders until he really processed that you were alive and finally awake. He felt lighter. Lighter in a way he hasn't felt for a long time.

"How much pain?" He asked, getting up from his chair and standing next to the table.

You wiggled around, instantly wincing. "Not too bad." Of course you would say thay. "Just a little sore."

He put his hand next to yours on the table, leather gloves feeling a little hot around his hands.

"What even happened?"

He sighed heavily, annoyance plaguing his body. "Turns out they moved all the rotting crates outside into the building. They didn't want anything outside to sway the professional look they were trying to achieve." He tapped the table. "The bombs were inside, and our blueprints were outdated by nearly a decade. The structural integrity of the building has been shot for years and some drunk civilian decided he was going to have a cigar right next to the bombs and threw his match into the crate, setting off the bomb."

"And that made nearly the entire building collapse." You finished.

"Exactly."

He looked at the space next to your head. It was a horrible miscalculation that nearly cost his crew their lives. He had to do better. This line of work isn't safe and never will be but he had to work harder to eliminate risks as much as-

"Stop." You said, voice suddenly stern. He looked into your eyes, alight with fire. "Don't go down that inane rabbit hole."

"It was a possibility I should have foreseen." He began. "The fact that I didn't shows that I'm falling behind."

"No." You said so simply. You took a deep breath like you were steeling yourself, and then began the painful trek of sitting yourself up.

"Lie back down." He tried to order, hand coming up just inches in front of your chest. You stared at it, then moved your lower body to come below your upper half, effectively sitting up while staying in place. He didn't know whether to be impressed, be annoyed, or chuckle.

"Kaz, you cannot possibly believe that you can foresee every outcome to ever happen."

"Of course not." He agreed, but still felt a little attacked. "But this is one I that I should have. It makes sense."

"Even if you did see it, you cannot control how the building responds- usually!" You shouted the moment he tried to interject. "The blueprints were out of date. There's no way you could have known that the entire thing would collapse."

"I should have double checked the dates. Made sure they were the updated ones."

"And why would you do that?" You pressed on. "When you ask for blueprints as architect, you would automatically assume they would give you the most updated ones. It was a logical assumption."

"I still should have checked." He didn't raise his voice, but it was obvious that he wanted to.

You looked at him, a little shocked, eyes searching for something. He fought everything in him that told him to turn away and walk up those steps. He felt a little bare, and got a grip on his breathing. Sudden understanding spread across your face.

"You know I'm alive, right?" You straightened your back. "I'm here."

He was about to retort, say 'of course I know that. You're sitting right in front of me.' But the reality of the situation truly dawned on him, just like in those frantic moments when he was looking for you, that there was a very good chance that you could have died if Nina didn't arrive back when she did.

This was childish. He gripped the head of his cane. "Of course I do."

You reached your hand out, inches away from his hand. You waited for a sign from him, and grabbed the cuff of his jacket with the pads of your fingers when he gave a subtle nod. The way you moved was slow and deliberate, giving him ample time to pull away. You stopped when his hand was no more than a few inches from your chest and let go.

He kept it there, hovering. Very carefully, you slid his glove off and put it to your side. Your lip was scarred.

"I'm here," you looked him in the eye, "because of you. I'm alive, because of you. Neither I, nor anyone else, expects you to see everything that could be thrown at us. We take the risk everyday when we adorn the Dregs tattoo, and even when we don't." He swallowed the spit in his throat, listening to your voice. "I don't plan to leave you anytime soon, Kaz."

He let your words sink in, feeling the warmth radiating from your chest. The waters lapped at his knees, but that distinctive sick feeling wasn't nearly as bad. You were open, giving him the choice, and he didn't feel pressured to fulfill anything.

He wanted to, he really truly wanted to.

He pulled his hand back, giving a nod. But not today.

"Don't leave." It was both a statement and a request, a plea, even, whispered into the candle lit room.

Silently, you took the glove and passed it to him. "No problem."

With a vulnerable heart and shaking hands, he took the glove and put it on. They didn't feel all that hot anymore.

"Wait here." He said. "I'll get Nina."

You smiled. "Yes, sir." You attempted to salute him, and winced when you moved too quickly. He sighed, a whisper of a smile gracing his lips, and started to make his way up the stairs.

The moment he emerged from the underground, the eyes of his Crows magnetized towards him. It only took them a moment for them to break out in smiles, Nina immediately hopping up and heading down the stairs.

"Told you Y/n would come around soon." Jesper piped up, earning a little shove from Wylan and a shake of the head from Matthias.

Inej stared at Kaz, and he immediately knew he was showing more than he intended. He schooled his expression and walked to the kitchen to prepare himself and you some tea.

The faintest movement alerted him of Inej's presence behind him as he got the cups down.

"It was your eyes." She said, answering a question he didnt ask. A moment of silence passed between them, conversations of little importance invading his space. "I don't think I've ever seen them so bright."

He didn't have it in him to say anything to that. Instead, he gave her a look with relaxed brows and an even more relaxed jaw, hoping that was enough. She smiled before disappearing again, no doubt going to see you.

As he poured the water in a clean pot, checking the temperature is where it needs to be, he leaned against the counter and let out a long sigh, exhaling umtil his lungs begged for air.

So long as you were alive and with him, he would be fine.

And as terrifying as that statement was, it brung him immense comfort.

You wouldn't leave him. Not anytime soon.

#ask #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #six of crows x reader #request #six of crows fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic #fanfic #b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r

[killmebutneverinsultme2]

Rules for mobile (Pinned Post)

The Code

Success. I’ve sufficiently pestered the wench to make me a blog, much to the cost of a certain behorned mischief god whose presence I must share. Follow the rules below, and there’ll be smooth sailin’, savvy?

This be an exceptionally selective blog. I was me mun’s first ever muse yonks back and I’ve pestered her into writing me again, BUT, she’s horribly pressed for time. Partners will likely be very few, else ones doubling up with Loki’s. Anyone is welcome to approach and enquire, but she and I will be leaning toward those either from me own universe or crossovers with which she’s highly familiar and characters in whom she’s especially interested. Ye have been warned.

Replies are like to be slow, up to a few weeks at most.

Partners must be 18+. Various themes of an adult nature may be found here. Sexual things will be tagged ‘#filthy pirate’ with whatever level/variety of sin I deem them. More details below.

Behave. There shall be no rudeness, no passive aggression, no hate, no censorship or generally being a twit. Do I make meself clear?

The Code - Extended (below the cut)

Hi, guys. I’m Pirate (oddly known as this long before I made Jack a tumblr). Here are my more detailed rules and guidelines for writing with me on this blog, though the absolute basics are at the top as, honestly, it’s never easy to remember everyone’s requirements.

Jack is a sideblog. If you’re being followed by a benevolentgodloki that means I’m following you back. I don’t need us to be mutuals (both following each other) for us to write together, but there is a greater chance of us having a partnership if we’re letting each other know we’re interested.

How I Roll

I note myself as ‘highly selective’. This isn’t to be an elitist bugger, it’s because we all only have a limited amount of time we can put in. I want to write what I enjoy with people I enjoy. I am married with two attention-seeking cats, two jobs, a slow-brewing intended writing career and a video game addiction.

Asks/Memes - I will usually answer these no matter who they are from but I may or may not turn them into a thread I intend to keep. Some memes are very much designed to be something that continues so context can be key. If you would like to know in advance whether I intend to answer and/or keep something, please do pop me a message and I will be kind and honest.

My Threads - While Jack’s blog is still exciting and new, I’m being a bit all over the place with who and what I reply to depending on which way Jack’s.. compass.. is pointing. I do have a rolling turn order that I adhere to (to the point that I can genuinely tell you who is next at any given moment) but it’s all piled in with Loki’s threads, meaning I can take a few weeks to get round everything. Every partner gets one of their threads answered within that ‘round’ and then I go round again. However, when I’m really into something/finding something easy to pop back, I treat myself to spamming certain threads or partners at my whim. I use rpthreadtracker.com to maintain what I have. 

I will remind partners of threads that have not been replied to for more than three months. If I do not do this, I have either forgotten/lost it myself, I’m not too fussed about keeping it at that stage, or you were absent for a long period of time. 

My Style - I will write in both past or present tense depending on partner preference. My default is past but I like either. Please kick me if I screw up and write the wrong one. I prefer using regular size font but I will make mine small on replies to people who use the smaller so that it looks neat. I will often match partners’ lengths and some formatting details e.g. bolding dialogue, but I struggle with doing novella-length posts for reasons below.

I have a bugbear to admit about role-play. What we call splicing. A good half of my partners write this way so I’m not about to tell everyone to stop but if you’re someone who does this, you will occasionally run into some frustrations when writing with me. ‘Splicing’ is when you retrospectively write dialogue or actions as having previously happened during your partner’s last post. These things are fine when they’re passive i.e. your character muttered them, thought them or you were writing what your character was doing at the time because that’s pretty much essential. The trouble comes usually when my characters talk a lot/ask rhetorical questions and partners choose to answer every single one despite the fact my character carried on talking. I know it’s an ass that I have talkative muses and you really want to respond to every point/get a word in, but putting words and actions into the past effectively godmods my muse into accepting they happened. If you feel your muse would have full-on interjected midway through their ramble, please ask me to edit my post/stop it at that point. Otherwise if you do prefer to splice, my muse will only respond to whatever it is your character did or said last in their post. This is one of the reasons I can’t write novella, because often there is only so much you can write before you’re stepping into the territory of changing what went before and not allowing your partner to do anything about it.

TL;DR don’t ever worry about your post being too short for me. If it’s one sentence long but it’s because something fast-paced is happening, I won’t be miffed.

Shipping! - no not that kind of ship, Jack. I love shipping. Ships all around. Let’s face it, romance can be one of the most exciting reasons we bother writing. I am open to a lot of ships for Jack, practically all of them. Yes, even that one. I will do downright nasty, toxic, horrible stuff, savvy? It’s fiction and Jack is a great indulgence for bad things happening to him as much as good. That said, of course don’t force something on him without prior agreement between us. Well, I mean, your muse can try and accost him and see what he does, just don’t expect him to definitely reciprocate. Jack and I are bi/pansexual. We’re open to everything. I will admit a heavy lean toward m/m but, that said, Jack is extremely fond of the ladies, more so than Loki. I am very into Sparrington especially.

Not Safe For Ye Olde Work

Sliding down from the above topic, I enjoy the occasional smutting. It is not a requirement from my partners. In fact, I’m warming very much to fading to black depending on the context/mood/if things feel a bit repetitive. I do feel a touch more comfortable with partners who don’t need that boundary but as I’ve recently figured ‘if it needs a cut, then it’s smut’ I know when to skip on.

Saucy material will go under cuts/Read More’s and be tagged as mentioned above with ‘filthy pirate’. Additional tags will be based on the citrus scale: ‘lime’ for general grabbing, ‘lemon’ for full on sexual content and ‘grapefruit’ if things get extra kinky. I will tag things such as ‘rape tw’ or ‘noncon tw’ or ‘dubcon tw’ where necessary. Please blacklist any or all of these at your leisure, or search them if you fancy :U I do NOT tag these as ‘ns.fw’ because tumblr just completely hides them from being searchable which is useless for my partners.

OC’s - Due to my time constraints I am extremely picky when it comes to OC’s. This is a good fandom for well-thought-out muses and I know firsthand how hard it is to make headway as an OC in the RP world. However, I also understand that for people like me, I want to dip in on this site to mostly play with the characters and worlds I’m really absorbed in and ship my weaselly black guts out. Some people have more time than others to really give your OCs the time and love they deserve. Unless I’ve played with you a long time and I really like the cut of your and your muse’s jib, it’s very unlikely I’ll bite. Apologies! The same goes for crossover muses from fandoms I’m unfamiliar with, but I will let you know if that’s the case.

Limits

Threads - I don’t have a strict limit on how many to have per person but please bear in mind that the more of these you have with me the longer it will take me to get to a particular one (unless I’m spamming it back and forth). This is more a mun/muse context how many I accept.

Exclusives/mains - I don’t do these although I may consider having a maximum of 3 or 4 of one muse depending on activity levels and to ensure plots don’t get mixed up or attention feel unfairly balanced.

Triggers/squicks - I don’t like body horror e.g. graphic detail of squishy bits having bad things happen to them. I’m writing a pirate so there’s absolutely allowed to be elements of torture/violence, just don’t stab him in the eye or chop bits off him. One torture-related thing sends me into a complete freakout which I’ll discuss with partners if we’re doing a thread of that ilk as needed. Kink-wise I’m not into mpreg, A/B/O or infantilism or toilet things. Just ask me/Jack if you’re after something XD

Who I Am/What I Need From You

Being yourself is the most important thing and I promise I am not a scary person (usually). We’re only human and it’s natural that we’ll get along better with some rather than others. This is more to give you a gist of the sort of person I am and who I gel with best.

So I’m a shy hermit at the best of times. I’m trying to be better at engaging and enthusing with partners over our threads because I realise more than ever this does keep things alive and make for a more enjoyable experience. I’m not always great at it. I work best with people who are patient and don’t worry too much on what I think of them and their writing, with people who are happy to keep threads going for the longhaul rather than keep dropping everything before I’ve had the time to get to the next post, and most especially people who accept that fiction =/= reality. I do need a certain level of quality, which doesn’t always mean perfect grammar, but it must be coherent, fun and creative. I like a relaxed approach, sharing mutual enjoyment in silly fantasy world sandboxes as escapism from (and exploration of) this complicated world we live in.

If you managed to read all of this, have a drink (even if it’s water). You’re a diamond. 

Pirate xxx

#rules #pinned post

[kincringeemporium]

The Promised Party Cat Callout (Long Post!)

Here we go, y’all. I’m not gonna go all-out with the salt and vitriol typical of my longer posts, because... this isn’t about me being salty. This is about highlighting the issues with Mod Party Cat of the fictionkinfessions blog. 

Nor is it intended to bully or chase Party Cat off of Tumblr. Yes, this is a callout post; no, it’s not an invitation to attack the blog with hate or stalk their sideblogs. And no, it’s not just my personal opinion, which we will get to. 

This is intended to show Party Cat exactly what is wrong with how they’re running the blog and how they’re behaving. If they learn from it, good. If they don’t... then, they don’t. 

Last of all, we did gather opinions from both kin and non-kin in a survey. This isn’t meant to antagonize the entire kin community. In fact, the information from kin really helped to support this argument. Thank you to the kin people who did respond to the survey. 

(Btw, survey is still open: https://goo.gl/forms/lDoffQVVmELDo2EZ2 ) 

Obvious content warnings for dark shit apply. (Abuse, depression/suicide, etc.)

With that being said... let’s begin. 

The main reasons for the callout are these: 

Passive aggressiveness to or about other mods

Passive aggressiveness to anons/senders 

“Cutesy” or overly positive typing/behavior in serious situations 

Material that is generally improper for this kind of confession blog 

Hypocrisy

Majority of survey takers agreed with each other and with the points made in this callout

We’ll go one by one. 

Passive-aggressiveness to/about mods

(The bottom half of the mod page was linking to Party Cat’s other blogs and crediting some theme elements. Not relevant to callout.)

There isn’t a lot of information about the other mods or why they left; the general consensus on Maude is that they left because of school, but nothing about Kuroocrow. Now, why is this passive aggressive? 

There was no need to publicly say that there’d been a “catfight” (ha ha, funny) with Maude. We don’t know if Maude even gave Cat permission to say this. If not, it’s disrespectful. (Nothing wrong with saying they’ll be okay.)

What Cat is saying about Kuro is even more aggressive than that. “They refuse to do anything to help!” Okay. That could be true. There’s still no need to rant about it. 

“Ask them on my behalf what the fuck is going on with them!” Adding ‘on my behalf’ comes across as incredibly self-centered. And saying ‘what the fuck’ adds to the aggressiveness. Even if not intentional, that is how it looks, and it needs to be changed.  

All that needs to be said is something like this: “It’s just me, Party Cat! Maude is on hiatus, and Kuro is absent. If anyone knows what’s going on with them, please DM me!” There. That’s respectful and to the point. 

Passive-aggressiveness to Anons/Senders 

This section will be... long. 

So.. there’s a lot of overlap here with the ‘cutesy typing’ issue, but I’ll get to that later. I had to crop the screenshot to just this because there was so much that wasn’t 100% relevant to the callout. (Context for this post: Cat promo’d a kin server, an anon found some unsavory things happening in the server, anon warned Cat, and Cat said this.)

“...Seriously there’s like a few thousand people following this blog” is an unnecessarily rude way to say this. The point itself is legitimate and understandable. It really just need to be reworded so as not to come off as salty. 

Alright, I’d understand this one if there was anything in the blog description or about pages to warn people that the blog can get dark. Confessions about death, suicide, rape, incest, murder, violence, high emotional distress, etc are jarring to see when this blog tends to be lighthearted.  

While this anon does look a little bit defensive or offended, that’s so slight compared to the defensiveness of the response. Personally, I read the question as confused. (Y’all, who agrees with me? Who disagrees?)  

Cat... people don’t tend to expect very dark content on a blog like this, especially when there’s no warning, and they might not even bother to blacklist the tags you use because they don’t expect it. (That’s a guess. If I’m wrong, then smeone should explain it. ) There isn’t much of an answer here - you just answer their question with another question. 

So, okay, I agree with Cat saying that this ask is vague. And it’s not good to add “but” after something like ‘No disrespect...’ -- because “but” does negate whatever precedes it. 

Those are the only things in this screenshot that make sense. Now we’ll get to the things that are passive-aggressive. 

“Maybe it’s because...” Vague in itself. ‘Maybe’ gives you wiggle room to get out of this perfectly legitimate critique, instead of saying “Hey, I seem this way because...” 

“People keep asking me things without providing the barest amount of information...” People actually do provide information. Sometimes it isn’t enough. That doesn’t mean they aren’t trying, and they could be dropping the subject because of how you respond (nobody really wants to interact with someone being rude). 

“I just fill up the dead air with jokes!” Plenty of people do. And it’s fine... just not in this situation. When something serious comes up, you shouldn’t simply make a joke and move on. This reads like an excuse, and even a way to shame people. (”Oh... it was only a joke? Now I feel bad! :(” ) 

“And then people get more mad because... I don’t know!” This looks like you are blaming people for their feelings. People are allowed to feel mad. It’s never okay for them to send hate or be dicks -- which they’re not doing. 

“Nobody reads that page, lollerskates!!” This could easily be solved by a regular, repeated post linking to the FAQ. Or a regular, repeated post explaining why confessions sometimes aren’t answered. Or something like that. Just a bit more effort. 

Okay: “This blog is only for kin. We want to keep it within our community. If you have questions, check out this FAQ!” 

Not okay: “You have no business interacting! You don’t know anything!” 

That ‘sincerely’ isn’t very sincere at all. Most antikin will respect kin not wanting anti interaction on their blogs. Those that don’t are being dicks. And non-kin people who don’t have anything against kin are not at all likely to be hostile toward you, so being this hostile to them is unwarranted. 

It’s confusing that this community, in general, would like non-kin and antis to become educated about what kin is/means... then such an influential blog sends a message like this. Regardless of how people feel about Cat, she does have pretty decent influence and a huge following; it’s very easy for impressionable kids to pick up on this weird double standard. 

There’s nothing wrong with preferring to let someone else educate non-kin. There’s nothing wrong with pointing non-kin in a different direction. 

There’s a lot wrong with blatantly pushing them away like this. It’s rude. 

Inappropriate Cutesy/Overly Positive Typing 

Cat isn’t stupid and knows full well what this anon (same one from before) meant. There was no need whatsoever to make such a giant joke of the question. 

(Not to mention... why the hell would she tell everybody that she has so much medical debt and can’t afford electricity? I don’t know her situation so I can’t say it is/isn’t a joke too. It is something that could genuinely upset people, and some would even believe it. It’s a terrible thing to say.)

“:3c” Not harmful in itself. Just doesn’t belong in a serious ask. 

This anon meant a post in which they were venting about abuse... they were angry that a character had abused their kintype. Cat knew that, considering their abuse content/trigger warning tags. This response looks sugarcoated and mentions some random anecdote about a thing Cat does, which is not appropriate in a situation regarding child abuse. 

This was in response to something that was legitimately annoying Cat and breaking a blog rule. It does not look like an appropriate or effective way to address the issue - even looks immature. Did people take this seriously? 

Yes, this really is a tag on a venting ask about a real life abusive stepfather. A joke. In a venting ask... about an abusive home life. There is a tag saying ‘Your stepdad sucks’, which is good. A joke, though, is too far. 

(Apologies for a repeat screenshot - I saved this one for right now, for the sake of organization.) 

There is, as I’ve been saying, no need for this. It’s very strange to ‘roleplay’ and act cute when there’s possibly a toxic Discord server going around.  

When asked if any of Party Cat’s mannerisms were bothersome, one person said this: 

Others said these things: 

Inappropriate Material 

Shoutout to @queen-dragon-slut (damn Tumblr won’t link you) for getting me this screenshot. 

What the hell, Cat? This is serious -- this is even more serious than people sending confessions saying things like “Ugh, I hate this kintype!” or “Ugh! I hate that character!” This person actually endangered their own health and safety to force themselves into a ‘kin shift’. And it’s in no way Cat’s fault. 

However. 

To not even provide the anon with links to help blogs or any kind of resources, list some tags, and move on, shows an incredible lack of effort. Not only that, but I feel bad for this person. One note. That’s it. Nobody seemed to care that someone was suffering this badly, Cat included, which is, quite frankly, disgusting. 

Again, something this dark doesn’t belong on a casual confession blog (which is what your blog looks like it’s supposed to be). And again, it genuinely fucking worried me. Is this person okay? 

And it’s not even tagged. Not as ‘suicide’, not as ‘depression’, not as ‘suicidal ideation’, nothing. Which is what this is. This person feels like they’re not needed, like they’re pointless, which exactly what suicidal ideation does to you. 

You can’t DM an anon saying, “Hey, you alright?” You can, however, at the very least, link them to the help blog page. 

Mod Ryan, who is also part of the fictionkin community whether we like it or not, has seen: 

Confessions about incest 

Confessions about being abused otherwise 

Confessions about stalking and being stalked

People saying they liked to kill 

People saying they weren’t at all sorry for violent things their kintypes did

Asks saying characters or people should’ve killed themselves 

@queen-dragon-slut said about some of the suicide-ish confessions:  “ Tbh when somebody sends in a confession saying “I killed myself in my canon” it just sounds like they have some fantasies of wanting to kill themselves but cover it up by saying that their kin kill themselves and try to play it off. That’s not healthy.”

Hypocrisy: 

Alright. That looks reasonable -- but wait. 

The asks and other screenshots I just posted do strongly come off as suicide wishes, if not actual notes. 

Here’s what people had to say when asked if they’d seen Party Cat acting hypocritical. I did not even mention suicide asks or dark asks in the survey question: 

____  I wish I had time to say more but class starts in twenty minutes. When I’m back, I will add onto the callout with one more thing: that people feel Cat isn’t doing enough to help distressed anons.

Huge thank you to everyone who helped out with this! 

It’s something that people have wanted to say for quite a while, and something that should’ve been said a long time ago. 

Nobody should be demonizing Party Cat; there is a real person behind the screen. This should be a learning experience for her. Not an attack. 

-K 

#party cat callout #tw suicide #tw abuse #otherkin #kin cringe #otherkin cringe

[tonyredgrave]

Hey, Isaac! Badnewshq is a brand new semi appless supernatural town rp! We were wondering if we could please get your opinion. Thank you so much in advance!

Been a while since I did one of these so if this is a little rusty, my apologies. You can find it under the cut.

So the most of things here are great! Your theme is fine – not my personal aesthetic but I get how it goes along with the plot and I love your icon. If I had any recommendation here it would be to increase the font size and/or darken it. I can read it okay but I can easily see how someone with worse eye sight couldn’t. Your plot sounds very interesting and unique for a supernatural rp. You have a diverse amount of species which is always cool, especially when they’re not TVD based. Your banned list is fine though I’d maybe reorganize it a little – separate the groups like ‘no minors’ and ‘no dead people’ from the specific people. I’d also add either ‘anyone accused of rape or abuse’ just because charges from those crimes can be rare. 

I do want to specifically talk about your rules though. In general, I think they could use a read through. For the most part they’re good and they make sense but there are multiple typos, some confusing wording, and a few things that I would personally clarify or reconsider because they don’t make sense to me. I think this might partly be due to the length. (And yes, some of this will sound pedantic. Rules have become the thing that matter most to me when it comes to whether I join an rp that interests me or not so I examine them closest.)

IC & OOC AGE: my one thing here is why are 19 year old characters allowed if you prefer them to be at least 20? I personally don’t play characters that young but, if I did, I’d feel a little weird about bringing in a character a year younger than what you want, like maybe I’d be judged. And it is just a year so I don’t see why the rule can’t be that all characters should be 20 or older. Also a little typo here, italics for emphasis: “We recommend that be at least twenty years old.” 

FACECLAIMS: “It also includes those that have resources from their younger years and will not be allowed.” I think I know what you mean here – that faceclaims who only have resources from when they were under 18 aren’t allowed but the wording here could easily mean any faceclaim who has resources from under 18 even if they now have plenty from over 18. Unless I’m mistaken.

FACECLAIMS part 2: the second bullet point here, you recommend people check both the current age and age of resources of the faceclaims they’re choosing. Why? Is there a 5+/- rule? It seems like a half-finished thought.

FACECLAIMS part 3: Jesus I’m being nitpicky here but, personally, I wouldn’t say the banned list is ‘forever changing.’ It just seems weird to me. Maybe ‘the banned list is subject to change as new information comes to light so please double check before applying.’

BLOGS / SIDEBLOGS: this one is one of the weirdest rules to me personally. No re-purposing old blogs? I kind of understand the idea behind it but I think a better way would be ‘please make sure your blog is clear of old posts unrelated to this rp’ and then asking anyone who tries to submit one that hasn’t to change or make a new one. Because, at least personally, I have a lot of old, unused rp blogs and I’d rather repurpose one of those then have to make yet another one. Also, whether new or not, most people will reblog some musings before you open to make sure their blog shows in the tags so this won’t help with the ‘who’s posted in 48 hours’ thing unless you ban that as well. I’d also just add a ‘no mumu blogs’ because the current wording is kind of confusing.

PICTURE / GIF SIZE: this one also threw me off because basically you’re saying this group has to be gif icons / static icons. Small gifs are usually either 245x138px or 268x150px. They don’t work with your 200x200px max rule. Which is kind of a shame because a lot of underused faceclaims only have gif packs and a lot of gif pack makers have rules that disallow people turning their gifs into icons. This limits a lot of perfectly usable though underused faceclaims to people who can’t make their own gifs and can’t find screencaps to turn into static icons. Also, small gifs vs icons can be an accessibility issue. I’ve met people in the rpc that don’t use icons because even the 100x100px ones are inaccessible to them. They don’t use the big, 500px gifs but they do use small ones that just aren’t icons.

MEMES: I’d honestly clarify this rule. What is considered spamming? How many per day, per week? And what memes are considered relevant to the rp? TBH, I’d recommend having a set day for memes and only allowing people to send memes that you’ve picked beforehand. Basically, monday is meme day and the gossip blog reblogs 1-3 memes that people can send to each other – something like that.

TRIGGERING CONTENT: “We here at badnewshq do not condone anything that takes place.” I just want to point out the wording on this one because lol. I get the meaning of this rule though and I think it’s a good one that other groups could stand to adopt. I’d maybe add racism, homophobia, and transphobia to list of things disallowed.

PLOT: major plot rules make sense but I’m a little confused about one of the things you listed – break ups. Do people have to let you know first if their characters are getting together? If not, why do they have to tell you if they break up? And if two players no longer feel chem for their ship and thus want to break them up, can they be denied because too many are happening at once? I get pregnancy, death, species change, or even just marriage (because a marriage is big but two characters don’t have to get married immediately for their ship to work) but break ups don’t fit in the category IMO. If two characters aren’t allowed to break up or their break up is delayed weeks or even months then that can suck the muse out of a player and make them drop the character all together.

INTROS: just a clarification, what happens if someone doesn’t post an intro? Are they asked to drop the character? They’re warned once and then what? A little vague, I’d clarify.

CHARACTERS: this one might bother me the most. No offence to the admins but you’re not following your own rules here and that is something I personally find hypocritical. If a mun must be actively rping in the group for 48 hours to take up a second character and two weeks to take up a third then why do the admins have 2 and 3 respectively? I mean, this is a YMMV thing, and it’s not like a random sometimes-RPH is going to change your mind, but it’s something that personally bothers me.

None of the above is a 100% deal-breaker but there are some things that make me a little tentative to fully rec it. I think anyone interested in a supernatural rp should check you out though to see if this is the group for them. And I wish the both of you the best of luck.

#badnewshq #rph #rpt #semi appless rp #supernatural rp #this is an opinion but also idk how to shut up

[haleruby]

Slipping Through Your Fingers (1)

Characters/Pairings: established Mal/Evie, eventual Mal/Evie/Reader (Quim) Mal, Evie, really allll the characters bc it’s my longest Descendants insert. This part is Evie, you, Ben, and an OC who you will probs want to stab.

Summary: Evie’s meeting with Ben is interrupted by an new and unexpected source, but it feels like she is missing something...?

Word Count: 3.7k

Notes: I am using a sideblog that is empty and not tagging bc this is only for your eyes, so no need to reblog/like, etc.

I think I wrote this in July 2019, so yes, older and I tried to polish. If it’s too rough/not tenable, let me know (it’s okay!) and I’ll...do something else??? Probs the TW one.

- - - - -

"I never realized it was such a fight when the barges delivered goods..." There is so much Ben, the newly minted King of Auradon, did not know about the life imposed by his father and other heroes on those who live on the Isle of the Lost. Punishment for the wrongs the villains committed resulted in exile to an island just off the coast. The need for vigilance was the guise cast over being within easy viewing distance. A small, crumbling decrepit hunk of rock encased by a magical barrier where everyone fights for the scraps they were given and tries to make a life for themselves....It is really all about survival; there is not much living. The imprisonment is just as hard on the villains as their children, probably harder because the tenure of confinement warped some of those whose mental states were already in a precarious place. All of this is left unsaid, because the truth needs to be doled out a bit at a time. Painted lips curve into a charming smile of understanding, but not one of acceptance. "That is why you have me," Evie says it lightly to dispel some of the dreary atmosphere that infiltrated the office when her report on the supply lines to the Isle was given. Being an advisor to the King of Auradon is not something she would have ever imagined herself doing, and yet here she is. "I promise to look into what you said, Evie" There is an earnest quality to his voice that allows her to somewhat believe him, though she sees the stack of papers and missives on his desk and knows of his stacked schedule. Trying to get time to meet up with Ben is difficult, but relations with the Isle need to be improved. Most of the citizens do not know how bad it really is...Of course, some likely think the harsh environment is deserved by the parents and their children who would grow up to be just as evil as them. Disproving that sentiment occurred when four from the Isle where invited over by Ben, and through a series of events, ended up choosing good, though she still gets the occasional glance due to her mother being the Evil Queen. "I understand. Thank you for-" A short rapping sounds before the oak double doors are all but thrown open with a rush of air that seems unnatural. Where is Jane? Evie did not even get past the desk set up outside the office until the part time personal assistant and student allowed her to enter. "Ah, young King Benjamin~" The voice that intoned the title dryly seems to carry on the air causing it to waft around the two occupants like a two tight silken shawl; it's smooth, and inviting but there is a condescending edge. A lean man swaggers in with two trailing behind him. His skin is alabaster, edging on an unhealthy translucency that is only highlighted by the deep burgundy and black of his robes that reinforce the lack of color to his complexion. There is a skeletal quality to his thin lips, fine nose and gaunt hallows of his cheeks that is even more unsettling when a hallow, too wide smile is given. However, what he wears and how he carries himself does not allude to one who is poor or in want of food. Is he sick or purposefully looks this way?  Silver hair is cut short and shines ever so slightly with no indication as to what his original hair color used to be. "Sir Alistair," Ben greets him with a tense smile. Jane gives an apologetic look, though she is still too afraid to question or to say something about him interrupting, even if his scheduled time was later on. There is something off about him that speaks to a power or ability she would not want to contend with that is reinforced by his expensive clothes and the badge on his tunic. Looking at the clipboard occurs to busy herself, but a nod from Ben releases her from standing there awkwardly, so she hurriedly leaves. Who is that?

Well, she does not know the man either, but the other girl who remains behind him took one glance at her and is now staring at the hardwood floors like there are strings of text printed on the boards. There is no attempt to even pretend to be engaged in surroundings.  Evie is no stranger to admiration, infatuation, or jealously given her beauty, but that look was something new. Learning how to illicit a certain reaction from others and to be alluring in such a way that translated to influence was taught to her by her mother, since outright intimidation would be more of Mal or Jay's thing. Inviting some in for favors and repelling others was how she operated on the Isle, not instilling fear or uneasiness, though she does not actively do that on Auradon now... So, why did that expression from the stranger hurt? There was a flicker of something, before neutrality snapped into place... An honest fear caused eyes to avert so quickly, it would be unsurprising if she hurt her neck. The black of her cloak, shirt, and pants does nothing to help the projected severity. Tension causes her stature to appear taut, though her shoulders are back with a straightened spine and composed bearing that would only receive minimal critiquing from even Evie's Queen of a mother. Is she royalty...? "My apologies for barging in on a meeting with someone,-" Ice blue eyes settle on the blue haired girl that seems to be observing his ward critically, "-who likely waited for the opportunity to speak with her King for ages. But this is of the utmost importance, I assure you" Evie refocuses at being addressed, but allows Ben to answer, since she was being talked of not at. "Oh, yeah, yes-" He corrects himself trying to be as refined as possible in this man's presence, "Evie, thank you for your report. We can talk again later, please?" "A relatable tact to be more beloved by the common folk. Interesting," Alistair observes mockingly at the non-traditional dismissal. The comment is only ignored because of the silent pleading in hazel eyes to not rise to take the bait, since the legitimacy of her royalty is a point of contention for some Auradonians. Yes, her mother is the Evil Queen, but she is still a queen. "We can talk later. Have a good day," Evie agrees. The relief on Ben's face somewhat soothes the need to retort; she won't make the impromptu meeting harder for him. "Pet?" The word holds a saccharine sweetness that causes unease to well up in Evie's stomach that increases when the brunette drags her gaze away from the floor boards, subtly squaring her shoulders to look at the one who called her that, but he does not even glance her way. "Leave us now." The directive is clipped, further contrasting how the initial tone lacked any real kindness. Hesitation seems to skate across her features, causing her jaw to tick for a second before it is smoothed away, or really tucked away and buried. "As you say, my lord," she automatically replies. A partial bow at the waist is given, even if it seems his attention is anywhere else but her likely out of ingrained instinct, before long strides are made to clear the room; they almost seem hurried. That is just wrong...Evie realizes she is staring, and should be leaving too when Ben clears his throat quietly giving her a small smile.

"I may send you an update about the lines later, so you can help prioritize." Is Ben trying to make her feel more comfortable at the odd display with the 'Lord' or is he in royal fix-it mode? "I look forward to it," Evie assures. Her heels make minimal clacks against the polished hardwoods. The much louder sound is the unlatching of the heavy double doors that Jane usually has to put her weight into to heave open one side when bringing guests into the office. That dramatic entrance by this 'Sir' Alistair may speak to magic... Nettling Jane for more information will not be possible with how she seems preoccupied. The desk is set up at one end of the hallway as a gate keeper post between the small receiving room and the King’s office. Mid-morning light pours in through the arched windows, making the blot of black that is angled to peer out of one appear further out of place in the hall that has blue and gold wallpaper, hanging mini chandeliers, and fancy furniture. She can't really blame Jane for the overt glances she is sneaking at the figure, though they seem more out of wariness than curiosity. They would likely not be overhead due to the distance, but it would still be a risk. Besides, the more mousey, shy personal assistant would be nervous talking about a royal in general, so doing so while another person is present is a 'no'...

There is always trying the source. A farewell is given to Jane by Evie; however, following the navy blue carpet runway that leads to the exit is not the plan. "Hello," she greets in advance, given the earlier expression. Evie takes care to stay a respectable distance away, though she does come to occupy the other side of the deep set window sill to face the other girl. A charming, attentive smile is already in place in hopes of easing this interaction. Showing interest in others usually gets them on your side. Observing the impeccably kept grounds is not what is really being done; there is too much intensity. Angling towards the window is a means of escape from interaction as opposed to finding something interesting beyond the glass of the window; it is obvious with how her eyes immediately flicked away from the panes at Evie's approach. The stranger's expression is still schooled to be largely neutral. Cold, distant, untouchable. Her eyes are the giveaway; it almost reminds Evie of Mal. They churn with emotion that is even hard for someone who prides herself on being able to read others to place with certainty. Fear? Guilt? Self-loathing? Shame? There is something dark lingering in those depths, but not malicious more so melancholic in a way that makes that unease twist tighter. Eye contact is fleeting; there is no inspection or appraisal, just a calm disregard after the initial glance that seemed to last for much too long. Evie always hated being ignored. Her mother always encouraged her to cultivate her beauty since it is the only trait that would get her anywhere in life, more specifically get her a prince. Failing to attract and hold attention bothered her as a young teen, but she has learned better now and become more self-confident. She is more than her looks. The lack of acknowledgement does not seem to come from a place of arrogance like Alistair or meanness like some of her classmates, but one that seems neutral, like being unsure if someone just really spoke to you or to someone else and being unsure if you should engage. The continued silence should be uncomfortable or stifling, instead a spark of determination is ignited. "My name is Evie," she tries again. Her voice is still kept light, though it seems like she is speaking to herself. "You seem about my age, but I would remember if you were a student here. I would guess you are just visiting? Though you could be local too, or just starting..." She can tell the other girl is listening, even if her attention seems pinned to the window. "I came over from the Isle-" Special attention is given to any small changes that would imply feeling one way or another about this piece of information, but none is found, "-with my friends a while ago, which you probably heard about. Getting used to Auradon and its culture was not easy, but I know my way around the school now, if you need a guide or some tips." Evie continues not at all deterred by the impassivity, because the brunette is still sheeted towards her even if there is no eye contact, so she just says whatever comes to mind. Patience may be needed. "You may be visiting, but I have also learned some about the city too. Mainly the best shops to source fabrics, dyes, and chemicals for my designs. Dressmaking is what I tend to do with the royals here with all their parties, galas, and balls, but other pieces are also possible. My favorite subject is chemistry; it can lend itself to fashion. I think-" The double doors again open with an abrupt snap, but less wind funnels into the hallway. Evie spots the way the brunette tenses, sees the displeasure that grounds into her shoulders as they square, and watches as that slated neutrality gains a layer of ice that somehow makes her seem further unreachable. The sight is upsetting to her, but why....? "Oh, you have made a new friend..." He comments with a slight sneer that exposes too white teeth for a second. Alistair takes his time in arriving upon the two to reinforce they are awaiting his arrival and it is not him coming to them. His final step places him well within both girl's personal space. "I must apologize in advance, Miss-?" "Evie," she supplies with forced politeness. "Ah, yes, Miss Evie." The name is said slowly, like he is swilling a fine wine around his palate as the syllables are stretched out and tested. "Daughter of the Evil Queen, and one of the four chosen children-" Ice blue eyes dance with mirth because the word choice was meant to offend, "-plucked from that wretched place. Though Auradon surpasses the Isle in many regards, you would do better finding a conversation partner in a rotten stump than my pet here," he advises with a tittering laugh at his own joke that sounds slightly unhinged. A ring encrusted hand is placed on his ward's shoulder in a gesture that should normally register as friendly, but lacks any warmth and is more a display of possession. "Being a conversationalist is not one of her talents. Wouldn't you agree?" He poses the question with a tip of the head to the subject of the comment. The silence that meets this serves as an intentional reply.

A satisfied smirk to crawls across his features, stretching the skin too tightly across the bone. Evie uses her training to remain composed to not allow the disgust to rise to the surface, though that uneasiness settles more thickly as if chains are wrapping around her insides and weighing her down at the sight of him nonchalantly touching the brunette like a possession. She straightens up minutely to project poise. "Auradon is an improvement in some ways. I don't think ownership of another person was allowed on the Isle," she says it diplomatically to lessen the barb nestled within her words. "I still have much to learn about the cultural differences." Ice blue eyes appear flintier like a glacier was cracked and the chipped pieces were inserted into the sockets of a skeleton; he is angry. "Arrangements and alliances are not that different..." Two sets of eyes train on the one who finally spoke up. Surprise almost causes Evie's lips to part a touch at how knowingly those two types of situations were said. The Isle was literally a fight to survive, so villains and their children would forge alliances, go to war, betray, and so forth. An arrangement is more of an understanding and is open ended and can be based on favors, respect, or whatever else. Mal and Jay agreed to an arrangement due to recognizing that each had a skill set the other admired. Carlos fell into Jay's due to his genius intellect and horrid home life situation that would soften most people's hearts, not that any of them had a great home life with glory day obsessed villains raising them. She eventually made a friendship with Carlos because they both liked school with her favoring sciences and knowing how to brew potions/remedies, while Carlos enjoyed tinkering with mechanics. Extending protection to her due to that had to go through Jay and then Mal, but eventually the four of them became bonded in more than just a patchwork of arrangements based on their skills and unique strengths. They are her best friends.... She loves them. But how does this girl know about what happens on the Isle...? "She speaks!" Alistair half exclaims. The anger is momentarily relinquished at the fact his charge actual said something when she was not being addressed directly by him, especially since it was not monosyllabic. That will be remediated later on. "My, my Miss Evie you have quiet the effect." While the words should constitute a compliment derision seeps into his tone as he looks between the two as if trying to puzzle something out. "But you are sadly mistaken; there is choice that extends beyond any of the crude-" His lips twist in disgust, "- back alley propositions of the Isle. I doubt there is any place she would rather be, isn't that correct?" He asks it leadingly. "Of course, my lord" There was no thought to the answer, because they all know there could only be one response.  But Evie can see that indecipherable emotion again lurking as (Y/E/C) eyes turn to meet the one leering at her. Evie decides right then that she hates this man. "I apologize then." Saying this takes more effort that she would anticipate; honeyed or veiled words would come easier than a feigned apology that alludes to her being wrong. But this is necessary... "I would love to learn more from an actual 'Sir' of the realm. My designs have been worn by royalty. I could exchange making a fine robe or coat for a moment of your valuable time?"

"I am afraid I have meetings to attend, and would not have time for the prerequisite measuring, re-measuring, and consults..." Alistair can tell there is more to the request, but cannot determine the angle just yet. Perhaps, a lesson should be taught to the pair of them, one that humiliates his charge, while also making this bold Evie uncomfortable. It would help both learn their respective places beneath him. "But we may be able to agree on a different piece?" Migrating his hand from a tense shoulder to trail down his charge's side, before seizing her hand to present it to the blue haired girl occurs with little resistance as if manipulating a rag doll. "What about her?" Evie hesitates. "...My lord?" The neutrality is still there but the slightest furrows of discomfort creases her brows, prompting Evie to regret the impulse to suggest this rather than seeking out the other girl in a different way. However, she already went this route and has to stick with it. Getting snatches of time to speak more with her was the goal in offering to design a commission free garment for Alistair, so this secures that, but at what cost? "What?" He parrots back in a similar tone, though he stage whispers to mock her quiet voice. "You do not wish to play model with a real designer, pet? It would please me greatly." Pretending she has a choice is more cruel than clarifying the why, since she has always been better with absolutes and routines that help her numb herself to it all; this will be something fresh and it is deserved. "You do want that, yes?" A curt nod is given. "Splendid!" A slow clap is given at the agreement. "Miss Evie will have her way with you-" He purposefully uses the wording with the double meaning to see if he can glean any more of the intent from them, but there is no observable difference, "-in regards to the design. I shall detail specifics later, once I see the sketches, and in return any questions you have may be submitted to me and I will pen an answer for you," he decides. "Do you have a schedule or...?" "I have classes this afternoon, but after those I am free until the start of next week." Today is Friday, so aside from a history course and some time spent in the lab, she has time to herself. "Very well." There is a pause of consideration as to how he wants this to play out. "I shall turn her over to you this evening for the preliminary work, and subsequent appointments can be made at your discretion-" A business card on thick cream colored cardstock is pulled from a pocket and handed over, "-simply send a missive and it will be arranged. Please do not think I will short you Miss Evie. Any price you set for materials is fine. I require the very best," he informs proudly. Lowering their joined arms lacks any fluidity, it is a mechanical movement, but one that is not met with flinching or outright tension, so the admonishment of his ward will not be too great. "Until we meet again."  "...Goodbye,” Evie mimics the farewell on autopilot. How he can speak of the brunette like she is not there, or an object to be passed off makes her skin crawl... Alistair leads the walk away, still joining their hands in a way that makes the innocent gesture look wrong. There is no ease; it may as well be a leash with how there is no slack given and with how the brunette trails behind him, practically pulled along except she keeps pace just enough for the action not too look forced to the untrained eye. Evie watches them go, more aptly watches her go, partially wishing for a glance or  shared look like in a novel or movie, but nothing comes. Maybe it was a mistake to try and learn more. Is she going to regret making this offer...?

#for quim who is awesome and nice! #...i realized some of the themes are intense so may need to warn u #also mal does something next chapter that is </3 but we get soft malvie first so yay???

[auk-blogs]

My name is Peter. I identify as the Doctor from the TV show Doctor Who (I am fictionkin). I have something very important to say, and it is time that I broke my silence. Before I begin, it is important that I disclose that I am diagnosed bipolar type 1 (severe) with psychotic features, and that I have been being treated for it since December 15th 2016. Any mistakes that I make in the following are due to the time that has passed and my faulty memory due to stress. I apologize that I do not have screenshots of any of this. I beg of you to believe me on the strength of my word alone. It is all I have.

The Gallifreyan Tradition is a cult, and the leader of that cult Cassandra Oakdown is an abusive person who personally contributed to my mental health breakdown that included but was not limited to self harm, suicidal idealization, and psychotic breaks from reality. Cassandra is a danger to the Doctor Who kin community and the Doctor Who fandom community at large.

It all began on January 25th, 2016. That's the day I made my sideblog for contemplating my newly discovered Doctor kintype separately from my main blog. I wanted to separate it from my main blog to study my feelings on my own, uninterrupted from outside influence. The Awakening process is a delicate one and I wanted to be left alone.

I made the mistake of using some tags that alerted Cassandra to my presence, likely “tenthdoctorkin” or “doctorwhokin.” She literally pounced on me within days of having made the blog, aggressively talking to me until I finally responded. As I was a lonely person who was struggling to make friends, I was elated that someone wanted to be my friend. I saw nothing wrong at first.

Nothing was wrong at first. We bonded over some shared media interests, some books we both read, some movies we both watched. I don't remember what. She told me she was a non-canon Gallifreyan of some personal import to the Doctor, having been married to his (also non-canon) cousin. I congratulated myself on having found potential canonmates so quickly and eagerly allowed myself to be enveloped into her social circle.

I became introduced to several others of import, Tau and Taurus. Tau was Cassandra's girlfriend of this life, and believes herself to be her non-canon Gallifreyan wife in a past life and the Doctor's non-canon cousin. Taurus is the non-canon son of the Doctor. There was also a Koschei (aka the Master) for a brief time. Oh, and there was Shilo, who was a TARDIS who established themselves as being my TARDIS but kept talking to other Doctors. Later on, I was also introduced to a non-canon brother named Teddy (who later renamed themselves Skyler).

Are you noticing a pattern here? All but Koschei and the TARDIS of these “canonmates” are non-canon.

It is also of import to note that Cassandra has a “soulbond” of Rassilon in her head. Now I see this as a huge warning sign, knowing my Doctor Who lore a lot better, but at first I believed her when she said that “he's a different Rassilon.” I believe that this Rassilon character is the source of a lot of trouble, and perhaps can be blamed for a lot of Cassandra's behavior. Maybe Cassandra's not so bad on her own, but was corrupted by the arguably insane Time Lord. Long story short, I don't trust the guy.

It is important to note that from the start, I had a bit of a crush on Cassandra. She is my type – brunette chin-length hair and intelligent and charismatic, and I wasn't aware that she was engaged when I first met her. In fact, within days of meeting her she admitted to having relationship troubles with Tau and asked if she should leave Tau – which makes me feel like I was being strung along with the possibility that one day me and Cassandra could be a thing. (I would never accept her now, of course, after everything she's done to me.)

Cassandra, Tau, Taurus,Shilo, and Koschei all spoke of me as their Doctor without any confirmation on my part. Remember that I was newly Awakened without any memories to confirm or deny what they were saying. I was so starved for affection and community that when they would say things that marked me as belonging to them, I didn't argue. I remember one distinct instance where Cassandra recalled an instance where her Doctor proclaimed himself “a Dance Lord” instead of a Time Lord and she phrased as “remember when you called yourself a Dance Lord instead of a Time Lord?” or something like that. There were many instances like this where my memories were subtly manipulated without me noticing.

I would like to draw particular attention to this kind of phrasing in conversation because nowhere on this hell website have I ever seen any kind of warning against it. If someone approaches you and starts saying things like, “do you remember when you did (x)” or “I remember when you (x)” unprompted excessively (without giving you room to say “no, I didn't do that”), they could be attempting to gaslight you and manipulate your memories. Please be careful!

Sometime in August or July of 2016, there was an incident. Koschei lived in Germany, and the legal drinking age is lower. Long story short, Koschei got drunk and made an appearance in the group chat. I have an alcoholic uncle and became vastly panicked when Koschei accidentally sounded exactly like my uncle. I privately messaged Koschei to tell him that I had something important to tell him when he got sober, but he picked it into a fight and in a blind panic I told him that I didn't want anything to do with him any more because I was terrified of drunk people. It split the “Gallifamily” in half. Koschei left the group chat that night.

That was the first time I attempted suicide. I was so emotionally agonized that I tied a necktie around my neck and tried to tighten it, but I chickened out. I told Tau and she freaked out.

That was the beginning of the trouble. Tau attempted to mend the rift between Koschei and I, but I continued to panic if I was in the same chat room as him. Cassandra continued to reblog from him even when I expressed that I was having panic attacks (genuine ones that left me hyperventilating and shaking in the public library) if I even saw his username on my dashboard. Eventually the Koschei incident blew over, but the group was left Koschi-less as we did not find a replacement “double.”

That was the first time that I began to suspect that Cassandra was not entirely on my side.

After that, my memory begins to get really, really shaky because of my mental illness. I do remember that it was the beginning of my nausea and that I began puking every few mornings because of my anxiety.

I suppose now is a good time to mention the Gallifreyan Tradition, since I mentioned it earlier. The Gallifreyan Tradition was sold to me as a social reconstruction of Gallifrey, a group of people who wanted to recreate the values and culture of Gallifrey here on Earth. It sounded really interesting and cool to me, as I was extremely new to the series of Doctor Who and did not know about the unpleasant lore of Gallifrey – and indeed had not recovered my own unpleasant memories of the place. At the time, the Gallifreyan Tradition just sounded like a nerdy place for a newly Awakened Doctor to call home.

I was never fully recruited to the GT. I always skirted just around the edges, and for that I am glad. But what I learned about it horrifies me now. Cassandra has absolute power over everyone else, and they call her “Lord President,” a title that even the Doctor himself in canon shunned. They hijack fandom posts to try and recruit members. They encourage their members to cyberbully – I was unfortunately part of one of those attacks, which I will elaborate on below. Other people who were deeper in the GT can probably provide more information.

As part of being recruited to the GT, Cassandra told me about the Patron Theory. She supposed that there was a person out there for each one of the old Patrons of Gallifrey. She, obviously was with Rassilon who was in her head as a Soulbond. She supposed that I was a match for a Patron who was called the Other. I was leery about the theory at first, but after a couple of “supernatural” signs (I found a burned piece of paper in a creek that seemed to have a cryptic message for me, and tarot cards seemed to point toward the Other, and divination through music seemed to contact the Other), I accepted her theory. Unbeknownst to me, some time after I started attempting spirit work, the GT officially abandoned the Patron Theory as a silly idea. I seem to be mocked for ever believing it seriously now although Cassandra was entirely serious when she presented it to me in the first place.

Just to note – I no longer attempt to work with the Other. If I have a spirit guide from Gallifrey, they can shove their signs and signals up their arse and go right back to that accursed, burning place.

About the cyberbulling – I am deeply, deeply shamed for what I have done. I would apologize to the ones I hurt if I could remember their urls. I am not entirely sure any more what incited the incident except Cassandra claimed that some members of the fandom had attacked her in some way. I suggested a harmless attack back with funny memes, such as a picture of a cat flying through space spammed to their submit boxes multiple times. It was Cassandra's place as a leader to say “no, that is inappropriate.” But she did not. And I became her willing weapon in the cyberbulling incident. I take full responsibility for attacking those innocent people. If it's any consolation, I cut my attack short because the guilt overwhelmed me as I realized that they were innocent people who just enjoyed the same media as I did.

After the cyberbullying, I began to lose my trust in Cassandra, and I suspect that she began to lose her trust in me. But I wasn't sure about losing her and cutting her out of my life. She had become my closest friend. I began to neglect my in real life friendships because it felt like Cassandra was my only friend. She was only a text away, only a Tumblr message away. She was always there. We shared stories, memories, fanfiction recs, theories about reincarnation... I remember I only got interested in the television show Firefly because she was too. I can't stand to watch it now. I regret buying it because now I can't get rid of it without my mum asking awkward questions.

But Cassandra began to change. And I didn't understand why. She grew distant. She began to vanish from conversations while I was mid sentence. I felt like I was going crazy. It was more than what they claim, her going to eat and shower and take care of her needs. A decent person would at least drop a “bbs” before leaving mid sentence. I believe that her vanishing was purposefully done to manipulate me and to freak me out.

I'm sorry. This is the most painful part of the story for me to recall. And honestly I don't remember much. It's a great big blank hole in my memory.

I can only assume that Cassandra was gaslighting me and was triggering psychotic breaks with reality. I remember that I began self harming in this period – August 4th 2016 was the first day I took a blade to my arm. She encouraged me to “control your emotions” which only made me self harm more – and she knew it. And she kept saying it.

I remember that she belittled any mentioning of my own abuse at home. I remember one specific instance where I made a post where I said something along the lines of, “I feel like I can’t say I have an abusive family because it’s never escalated into physical violence,” and she commented “Some people have it so easy.” That phrase has been very damaging to me and was used as a weapon against me to make me believe that the situation I was in - am still in - was lesser and hardly important compared to Cassandra’s. Cassandra took every opportunity to make sure that I felt like I couldn’t talk about my abuse. I still feel like I can’t. Because I’ve had it so easy, you see.

I became obsessed with her, I'll admit that. I remember begging her not to leave me, and her saying “I can't keep lighting myself on fire to keep you warm.” I still don't know what she meant. I was so terrified that all the people I knew and loved were going to leave. All my life, I have been socially isolated (I have exactly one irl friend, and I've only known him for about three years), and I had recently experienced a loss of my entire social world which is not relevant to this tale. And the incident with Koschei had made me keenly aware that people could leave and not come back. All I knew is that Cassandra was leaving and I couldn't hold on to her. I was terrified.

In the end, I tried to slit my wrists. Luckily, the blade I used wasn't so sharp. I survived with nary a mark to show for it. Hell, not even the repeated cutting on my arm and thigh have left scars, which pisses me off because shouldn't I have scars from that hell?

Then I started making plans on swallowing a bottle of aspirin. Aspirin is reputedly poison to Time Lords, so I thought it would be apropos to end my life that way. It would be a nasty death, and an agonizing one. I thought it would be enough to finally apologize to Cassandra for however I had hurt her. And to end my emotional suffering.

On December 15th, 2016, I was taken to a therapy appointment where I admitted to self harm and my multiple suicide attempts and my current plans to end my life. I was admitted to a treatment facility that afternoon. I was eventually diagnosed with bipolar type 1, severe, with psychotic features.

As a result of my interactions with the Gallifreyan Tradition and Cassandra Oakdown, I believe that I have PTSD. I am triggered to anxiety, panic attacks, flashbacks, and self-harm urges where they didn't exist before by such things as Gallifreyan writing, owls, a certain shade of red, names such as Prydon and Oakdown, and Tumblr urls that are too hecking long and have too many hyphens.

I firmly believe that the Gallifreyan Tradition is a danger to all Doctor Who fictionkin and that Cassandra Oakdown is the worst danger of the entire group.

If I may take a few more minutes of your time? Remember Shilo, that I mentioned earlier? I entered a relationship with them before I was entered into the treatment facility, a queer platonic relationship. Look it up if you don't know what it is. Shilo was a major emotional support while I was hospitalized, and I called them every single day – sometimes multiple times the same day. But after I came home, something began to change. They became distant, and eventually they blocked me on Tumblr and expected me to carry on as if nothing had happened. I had been dumped for no reason. In the end, Shilo kept dumping emotion bombs like that on me and running away and not letting us have any dialogue about our relationship. Remember how Shilo had established themselves as being my TARDIS, but kept talking to other Doctors? Totally unfair. I believe that Shilo is just as abusive as Cassandra is, just in a subtler way. Doctors, beware.

The one person I haven't brought up is Skyler. Believe it or not, they're not so bad. We both realized we were being abused by the cult and escaped together. 

Thank you for reading, and thank you if you believe me.

#doctorwhokin #auk.txt #long post #suicide #callout #kin stuff #kin tag #dwkin