#i think it relates to my perpetual need to please and be accepted and somehow that means portraying selene as enough as a female oc

[monstersinthecosmos]

you mentioned how many of Armand's traits have been given to Louis, but I think when I really started to give up on getting even a loose book interpretation of Armand was when I saw the first Claudia trailer. Cause if you already have one character stuck in perpetual teenagerhood, are you that motivated to introduce a 2nd one? I mean, I personally would, because I think it'd be that much funnier to see two teenagers plotting against each other in S2, but my fear is these writers will just figure they've got teen angst and identity covered, and all they need Armand for is to pop up and be a non-threatening love interest while Lestat is otherwise engaged.

I'm still not sold on the Rashid theories, mostly because no matter how ooc one gets, I'm not sure I can believe they'd position Armand as totally subservient to Louis. And I LIKE Rashid. But as Armand? No, please no.

So like. I’ve been really cautious about talking about Claudia because I’m like, mega skeptical about this character change and I don’t like it 😊

As much as I’m willing to give AMC!Claudia a chance as an individual OC, I’ve gotten some red flags about the way the team has talked about women & girls and I’m just. Like. How are you going to remove the main feminist drive of the story to replace it with potentially sexist tropes about teenage girls?

I wrote about this a while back so I won’t go deep on this right now, but I think it’s really suspicious that RJ & them don’t think aging L&L up to their 30s matters when like, they’re saying being 14 somehow is an existential crisis. Does age matter or does it not? Why do they keep commenting on girls’ hormones? Do these vampires even HAVE hormones?! Bro she’s dead lol. I mean I guess they have sex now so whatever it’s a whole new world.

But like the thing about VC characters is that their age has more to do with their relationship to humanity imo; we’ve talked in circles about whether or not the Blood fixes your brain where it is and I think that’s a really cool conversation to have but there’s not a definitive answer bc Anne wasn’t writing with it in mind. Their life experiences are more significant than their brains.

Like, Armand has never been a teen angst figure. Even when I first read them as a teen I wasn’t like OMG HE’S LIKE ME.  VC isn’t a coming of age story and isn’t YA. Armand is 500 years old lmfao and his mortal age is a stigma to always remind us what happened to him. His visual age creates a set of external factors related to the way people treat him, and same with Book!Claudia. Claudia was not a child, either, and the tragedy of her story (aside from the internal body horror) is that people will treat her like a child forever.

So having AMC!Claudia as a teenage girl can still feature this same topic; the horror of her story has potential to tap into those same themes, even if they’re very different. There’s a difference in that she CAN be independent even if her journey getting there is different. This tragedy is less internal than the book, less dramatically anyway; I think the horror here will be more external. People are still probably going to talk down to her and treat her poorly and not allow her agency in certain situations. In a universe where she can have & wants to have sex, she’s always going to have to navigate potential child predators. But she isn’t locked to an adult the way Book!Claudia is. And I think this has a lot of potential and like, even accepting the change as a logistical workaround for shooting, I think care has to be taken to tell that rich story, and I’d like to see it. I would hate for us to swap out Claudia’s story for vampire soap opera teen girl tropes, especially knowing how personal the character was to Anne and how it started the entire series.

So having said that, like. There’s two ways to look at this:

If Armand is still a teen, after watching Episode 4 I really worry about the petty changes they’d make to him if there’s like TEENAGER LORE in this universe. Armand isn’t Like That because he’s a dumb teenager, he’s Like That because he’s been repeatedly traumatized for centuries. Even as a mortal he wasn’t a typical teenager. WHAT DID MARIUS CALL HIM, A WIZENED FUNERAL SPIRIT OR SOMETHING LMAO. And like if the show posits that Teenage Girl = Whiny Boy Crazy Annoying Drama Queen, like, what is the trope they’ll lean into for Teenage Boy? How does this lore about being hormonal fit into the way they’ll portray him?

And like, WHILE YOU’RE RIGHT THAT NOW WE ALREADY HAVE A TEEN CHARACTER it makes me wonder if Armand’s role would change and how this could change the way he antagonizes Claudia. COULD THEY EVEN BE A COUPLE????? Imagine she leaves with Armand instead of Madeleine?

Cause I’m thinking like, if they stuck to the main Paris story, this Claudia doesn’t really have a NEED for Madeleine at all, does she? They’re setting her up that she’s interested in romance so I think it might be that she wants a romantic partner. (Of course Madeleine might have been romantic too once she turned but meaning that it was framed as a parental figure because Claudia was always going to need a visible adult.)

But if the show isn’t afraid of talking about teenage sexuality, he could still show up as a love interest. Like the shallowest read of TVA would tell us that he’s like Ricean Sex Addict Teen and I wonder in the hands of this team if that translates to him being hypersexual in trying to seduce Louis. We sure rushed through to Claudia’s 18th birthday, so! Lol Maybe they’re not afraid to go there. (Also how old were Louis and Jonah??????????????????????????????????????????? Louis might not mind lol.)

But you’re also right that if there’s only room for one teen, and Armand ISN’T a teen, like. It’s just not the same, yall!!!!!!!!!! It’s just not the same character. And even seeing the way age is handled/discussed in this universe (plus the way they’ve handled Daniel & Night Island) just screams to me that they don’t care about Armand the way I do LMAO. To each his own, man, but it’s like. As a VC fan, like, when you strip so much of what I enjoy about VC from an adaptation, what’s left?   

#vampire pajama party on amc

[seraphim-soulmate]

22 October 2023

I'm sick with grief I'm sick with longing I'm sick with wanting. someone come put me down please. im longing and wanting vague concepts and I don't have a focus for my energy and I want to curl away and rot rot rot alone and unloved and dejected.

maybe the reason I put myself in positions of caretaking is so someone will need me. even if I don't want that, the desire to be needed and wanted is so profound that maybe I put myself in worse conditions just so I don't have to confront my people pleasing and how to have/keep friends bcs there's just so many relational problems that I have that I feel unfixable but I KNOW that's not true and I KNOW everyone is a little bit weird relationally it just hurts so so bad when you keep being shot down and how do you not take that personally. it's like oh lol you like me bcs im fun to drink with, I'm not too much of a hassle for a disabled person, ill essentially repent via actions or purchases when I think I've done a misdeed so the scales are somehow balanced again. but aside from that, my life consists of perpetual nightmares of my own creation and I therefore cannot see the value in being friends with me or what I bring to the table in a friendship aside from the things I bring as a coping tool so I feel like I have value (cleaning, doing favors). sometimes I can bring good conversations, but it's hard when I'm with different communication styles that want to talk about life, but not in a deep way or not about my life, or interests I don't share, bcs I'm just stuck. I don't know how to talk suddenly and I've got nothing to add. and you can't say a relationship isn't transactional. it is ! it is about what you're bringing and what you have to offer, on what other basis would this be? if you don't like me because you don't think I add value to your life because of my negativity and life struggles, why would you want to be friends with me? I try to cultivate the moments of peace and kindness and love and feeling good but it must be said that my life is not easy and all I can give are those moments. Sometimes those moments aren't enough, because the pain seeps through and the reality slithers in and I'm confronted and stuck again. It sucks because it's so scary and hard for me, and I know how scary and hard it is for everyone else to see someone suffer like this and not know what to do except keep your distance so your life doesn't also go up in flames. Or maybe I'm really just not that important and it's not a big deal.

I feel like I spend all of my time working on my mental health, working on my physical health, trying to keep going and making it to something that feels kind of good or stable. or like for the last two years, just fucking staying alive after a life-changing diagnoses and symptomatic presentations. I guess that doesn't leave much room for actual joy when you're running yourself dry with your "HAVE TOs" and get to spend considerably less time on things that add quality and fulfillment to my life. I guess I'm just not crazy in a fun way. Maybe I got boring somewhere along the way. Maybe people don't want to spend the time to unravel and discover me bcs we want bite-sized consumable info. Maybe my fears and self doubts are major blocks in building or maintaining friendships. Maybe I'm supposed to be getting more support with my physical and mental health, but I don't know where from and I don't know how. It was really nice having my dad do basic tasks that I was dreading, that lifted a lot of weight off of me and it's a lot to constantly care for everything on a daily basis alone.

I'm often so stuck in trying to talk about the present in conversations as well, where there's nothing much happening, and I don't let myself dig into my past anymore too much because it's a whole can of worms that sometimes I don't know if they're acceptable or not. At this point I guess I'd rather placate someone with mediocre conversation, or correct myself anytime I fall into "too weird" territory, than to go into my past and talk about things I have enjoyed because they're often quite blurry and bring a lot of baggage with them as well. Like Ophelia and Barbies were very important when I was 16, but I guess not a lot of people want to hear about that and it's not a time I remember very clearly either.

And being more stable is really helpful in having more stable friendships, or making new friendships since you can show that you have interests and a life. I miss having a routine and goals and something to focus my energy into instead of letting my mind wander and body decay. But I got here in the first place because I wasn't well enough to continue. Even if university was exhilarating and felt good, it also felt really fucking bad not being able to do it well, struggling so much, and having my physical and mental health fail me. Like I'm trying to rebuild from that but I'm really not sure how. Again, here I oscillate between "you're taking this too seriously, everyone struggles really hard with university and you should be able to push through" and "you deserve better accomodations, you deserve to not feel perpetually uncomfortable by how many classes you have to take because you cannot pass them all but you need student status. yes actually, your mental and physical health is different from that of others and is understandably debilitating, even if others can't see it".

and I just sit there with those and go "okay so what the fuck can I do?" and I realize what I have to do is put myself out there in lower-stakes work and build up gradually to maybe being able to do it again. I'm so scared of not finishing my degree bcs it means less money, it means less employment opportunities, it means confronting my most deeply rooted fear of becoming homeless and I shouldn't even have a game plan for that. That shouldn't even be something I have to reassure myself about. But it is, because it's this terror so deeply seated in me that it dictates so much of my life. Don't get tattoos, you'll lower your chances at getting a job -> you'll end up homeless AND it will be your fault since your self expression makes you unemployable. Don't do too many body modifications, justify the ones you have made regarding your gender, it's not really okay that you can't fit into the mold but it seems like that's the life you've chosen so now lie in it. Make up for it in other aspects of your life. Don't make your body or your life yours, you have to be a polished cog so you can easily obtain work and not end up in a bad situation, which for some reason feels more like a prophecy than a fear. My mom pointing out a homeless man to me when I was 3-5 because I was laughing at him and telling me "that could be us. so easily, that could be us" or my childhood best friend telling me I'd "die under a bridge of a drug overdose" bcs I didn't staunchly say I'd never do drugs. I guess those things do stay with you.

My dad dedicating himself to work for his entire life so he wouldn't be in a bad position either obviously sticks with me a lot too. Him saying "people would rather buy from someone with traditional pronouns than they/them" while I was visiting recently and just trying to process all of that and every bit of self he's given up to be a tool for the machine, the mindset and ideology one has to form to explain that to themselves. Of course the only thoughts and knowledge I have about work come from the person who raised me and had pretty radical views on employment. And I feel guilty for not being able to carry that on. For having the audacity to be disabled, to be queer, to be unemployable by some standards. It was unbelievably crushing not being able to accept that job offer for the lawyer's office because I was having to medicate heavily to get through the day and I'd collapse after it, and it feels like such a privileged position to be able to refuse employment because I go through something that every other employed person also goes through. I just really really have to listen to my boundaries and limits or my body will hospitalize me, and rather quickly at that. If it doesn't hospitalize me, I'll lose my job from being out on too many sick days from having symptoms and having to recover, getting sick extremely easily and getting sick bcs of stress. I was also supposed to be a cog and it's stupid, but it hurts that I can't be the perfect employee.

#personal #me #venting #negative #this goes everywhere but covers pretty much everything as well lol #long post #if you do read the whole thing and have something to say about any part please comment #i want interaction and connection so bad

[archive-assassin681]

why do i insist on changing my psd every other day?   why is committing to a color scheme so damn hard :////

#00. a caffeinated queen ‚ ooc. #delete. #i want purple but i want warm tones and then cool tones ugh #it's so hard because selene is lethal and i wanna portray that but she's also sof #i think it relates to my perpetual need to please and be accepted and somehow that means portraying selene as enough as a female oc #why brain

[phoenixyfriend]

Time Travel ft. Leia and Vader

(Helped by @atagotiak)

I was reading a bunch of different time travel fics, and my brain slotted in that one "Vader hands over the Empire to Leia and is now her most devoted sycophant" dynamic and mixed it with the "Luke and Vader time-travel and Vader does the right thing but only because it would make Luke sad if he didn't."

I landed on "Leia time travels to prequels era, but her least favorite family member has also traveled with her, though it takes him a few months to find her because he has less resources without the entire Imperial Navy, but he's still a scary Sith in all black with a breathing mask and intimidating cape."

"Tiny angry lady who wants to force democracy and her giant Sith father whom she hates but has resigned herself to pointing at threats like a tank who inexplicably loves her" is a delightful dynamic.

The first few months included a lot of concern about "why do you know so much about Sith if you're not trained or looking to be one" and then Vader shows up and calls her 'daughter' and she insults him and it's like "Oh. That explains it."

Council Member: We have a Sith in the Temple. Vader: Former Sith. Leia: Listen. He is your best chance against Sidious. Also, do you want Dooku dead? Vader can make him dead. Council Member: Your father i-- Leia, scrunching up her face: Don't call him that.

Like Leia is deep in conversation when the Temple starts panicking because Vader just. Showed up? He snuck in, somehow? So Palpatine wouldn't catch him on video entering through the front door? And people try to keep her away from the trouble, because there's an entire array of Jedi Masters to deal with this Surprise Sith, except she can sense exactly which Sith it is and once she shouts "oh you have got to be kidding me!" she just starts running and, well, it's Leia. Nobody can stop her.

(Leia does have less combat training, at least less force-assisted combat training, than the Jedi. But then the Jedi don’t want to hurt here here. She's not fighting her way down, either, she's just running really fast and all the best fighters already left. They had a head start. So Leia's mostly running past random padawans and the like.)

She shoves her way to the front of the group of Masters who. Well, they're certainly ready to attack. But Vader is just standing there. Doing nothing. Still intimidating as fuck but he's not doing anything.

And then Leia bursts onto the scene like "You motherfucker."

She hits her head on a clipboard and whines because UGH he's a walking WMD and they could REALLY use him against Palpatine but also. She hates him so much.

She tries to hand him off to the Jedi council but he insists that he will only take orders from Leia herself.

Jedi: Wait, what. Leia, completely ignoring them: Did you follow me here? Vader, through the mechanical wheezing: I have no loyalty to my master and no empire to serve. You are all that I have left. Leia: Me? Me? I'm all that you have left? You committed a genocide that killed all the family I had except for the twin brother you later mutilated! Jedi: Wait what Vader, going to one knee: I pledge my loyalty and blade to you and only you, daughter. Leia, ready to explode: I. I just. Jedi, some of whom really want to say things but are slowly realizing that they just accidentally acquired a Sith Lord by proxy: What. Leia: I hate you so much but I can't even get rid of you, you're too useful. Vader: I live to serve. Leia: Yeah. Got that. Fuck. Someone get him a full medical rundown, I don't know the last time that mess of a life support system was updated. Jedi, agitated again: WHAT Leia: Listen, I don't like him, but I'm not stupid enough to throw away the second most dangerous person in the universe when I can point him at the most dangerous person in the universe. Especially not if he's going to listen to me. Jedi: But... he's a Sith. Leia: Please trust me when I say this: you might be able to take him down eventually, but he will take dozens of you down with him, and right now he's... honestly, I'm pretty sure he's more depressed than malicious. Jedi: You hate him. I can feel it. Leia: Yes, but I can be professional about it. Vader: They have not yet d-- Leia: Nope! No talking! Not until I've had a chance to process this mess!

There is a whole lot of Leia snapping at Vader to stop it whenever he starts giving off vibes like he wants to take the most violent shortcut possible.

She is not the gentle hand that Luke would be.

Leia isn't a Jedi or working for them but she's wormed her way into being an ally. They don't 100% trust her, especially not with Vader just showing up and declaring her family but like

How do you say no to a WMD walking into your house and saying "I will fight the monster you cower from at night."

There's a lot of Leia snapping off an admonishment that sounds just a little too odd and then when questioned she just says "He knows what he did."

tbh I'm not sure how long it takes for them to tell anyone that Anakin is Vader. They might hold it off in hopes that Anakin can just retire to be Mr. Amidala after the war is over.

Well, Leia hopes. Vader just lets Leia make that call and then glowers at his younger self every time they're in the same room.

I do feel like Leia tells Obi-Wan the truth first

Imagine. Imagine a Vader who’s past still isn’t known. But has gotten somewhat comfortable around the Jedi (not really but the bar for what counts and comfortable for him is low). And Obi-Wan habitually banters with darksiders, right? If Vader’s guard is down for a moment and he, without thinking, references an inside joke...

Might be the most fun in terms of ways to tell Obi-Wan "We're time travelers and Vader is what happens if you let Palpatine drive Anakin off the edge"

If Vader has decided to pledge himself to her orders after destroying her planet, then fine. She can work with that. She's not going to be happy about it, but she can make it work.

The Jedi Temple hates having Vader anywhere nearby but he is actually very good at hiding himself from people, including Palpatine And for all that Leia seems perpetually irritated with her apparent bodyguard, he does seem to listen to her.

Jedi council: We still haven't figured out how to handle Dooku Leia: Do you know his location? Jedi council: Yes. Leia: [sigh] Leia: Vader, deal with it. Alive if possible.

(Leia does need to clarify an acceptable level of violence against the people protecting Dooku.) (She needs to clarify... many things.)

Leia always says "Vader" and one time a poor fool just asks why she doesn't call him dad and she snarls out "He is not the man that raised me, and I am glad for it."

Someone less foolish later prods more compassionately and she lets them know she was adopted and didn't properly meet Vader except in passing until she was nineteen.

"And then he tortured you." "And then he tortured me, yes." "Damn." "Didn't even find out we were related until a few years later when he chopped my brother's arm off." "You... wow." "I know."

At least one exchange that is L: You mean when you tortured me? A: He did what. V: I was not aware of our relation at that time. L: Not the point! I am fully aware of your interrogation methods and I refuse to let you be the one to acquire the evidence for-- A: Wait no go back he tortured you? L: Move on, please, we already have. A: That means I'm... oh Force, I'm going to torture my own daughter what in the actual fu-- L: We're moving on.

(“I end up torturing my own daughter” If Leia’s feeling especially spiteful I can see her saying “you mutilate your own son too”)

Concept: Leia is very free with traumatizing details of her past re:Vader and Anakin thinks that it sucks but doesn’t think much of it bc Sith. And then some time later he finds out...

(I love characters who use the traumatizing details of their past to shut down conversations.)

It's such a wonderfully horrifying concept for him to try to awkwardly comfort this girl he kind of knows because having a Sith for a dad sounds like it would suck and Leia seems nice, even if she's kind of weird and uncomfortable around Anakin, but he saw her flinch around a few other tall people wearing black robes the way she stiffens around Vader so maybe it's just that!

It is not.

Vader does get a significant amount of medical treatment. Including a bunch of "holy shit, that's a lot of drugs" and similar. There is so much lightning damage.

hnnng I'm just really in love with the image of Tiny Tiny Leia sitting behind a desk for some fancy negotiation, the picture of professionalism, while Vader just stands behind her shoulder, looming, glaring expressionless death at whoever came to speak with his baby girl.

Not that he would call her that, because she'd just hate him more and he's really not sure how to fix that problem, other than doing whatever she asks with no complaints and hoping she appreciates it.

Vader: [looks at children wandering by, has complicated emotions] Leia, tired of his shit: What now? Vader: I killed them, once. Leia, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath: And you're not going to do that again. No killing children. Vader: I know that. Leia: Great. I am... regretting asking. I am so very much regretting asking.

I do really like the idea of someone asking Leia once if she wants Jedi training and she says, no, actually, she's fully aware of the fact that she's angry little ball of hate sometimes, especially towards her bio father, and she'd like to refrain from putting herself in a position where she knows enough about the Force to Fall. She wouldn't Fall. But it does make people shut up.

#leia organa #princess leia #Darth Vader #Anakin Skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars #time travel #Phoenix Posts

[byorder-fanfic]

Heaven Hears

Summary: After coming home from war, John has a second share of pain when Martha dies. Hopefully, his little sister can try and help.

Word count: 1759

Warnings: Death, grief, Christianity (is that a warning? I dunno I’ll keep it)

Authors Note: I’m sorry. This one is a little bit sadder than my others, but I SWEAR it has some fluffy bits in it! This is set in early 1919, so before the events of Season 1. Thank you so much for your continued support, I appreciate and LOVE you all for it xx

War was Hell, but the aftermath wasn't much better. For John, he wasn't sure if he'd rather crying in the trenches with his wife's letters pressed closed to his chest (to keep them safe from bullets and water) or now. With a soft sigh, he brushed his shaking finger over the creased paper. The ink hadn't worn away, still looking as fresh as the day they were written and, despite the wrinkles that embedded in it, the letters still survived, longer than the woman who wrote them. Martha. Each time he remembered her name, a new wave of grief and wanting hit him. Even in the bitter winters without thick clothes, huddled up in mud and men, his arms had never felt so cold. Pain seared through his throat but no tears rose. He had been crying solidly for a few weeks now. It seemed as if he's run out. His house was too quiet. Ada had taken the kids out for the day, giving him that longer-than-usual-"I'm sorry for your loss" kind of hug he was getting far too often before she took Jack and Katie's hands, letting his eldest Louise hold onto little George. Katie looked just like Martha, and Jack kept on asking when mummy was going to come home. And John was breaking. Coming home was supposed to be a celebration, and it really was for a while. He had his kids in his arms, wife by his side, and nothing was gonna stop him. Suddenly, a rapid series of knocks on his door forced John out of his thoughts. Stumbling a little, he made it to the porch, swinging open the door to reveal Polly. Her severe expression was immediately replaced with concern. John didn't look good: his hair was a mess, face so pale she could swore his freckles had darkened a few shades, his clothes wrinkled and stinking of whiskey. "Have you seen Y/N?" Polly asked, looking down at her nephew's raggedy appearance with a furrowed brow. "Nah," he said, suddenly feeling a jolt of worry displace his misery. "Why? Is she missing?" Y/N was only ten years old, and more protected by her brothers than the King of England. If she managed to slip away, the whole of Birmingham would be called to the streets soon. That is, if Polly didn't find her first. "She said she was going to see you." Polly's pursed lips reminded John of a simpler time, when she'd scold them for playing too rough with Michael (just a baby then!), and lecture them all when they got into fights. Or, more recently, when the two Shelby twins made mischief in Small Heath. In an instant, John grabbed his coat from the hook and pulled it over, somewhat hiding his dishevelled clothes, and obscuring his unkempt hair with his Peaky cap. "Let's go looking then," he said simply as he shut the door behind him. Polly held her hands up, forcing him to pause on his rampage. "I can find her by myself, you need rest." He hadn't heard that since he got the flu at fourteen. The same age he met Martha, the bitterness soon settled back in. "I need to find Y/N," John tried to stop himself from sounded stroppy, looking at Polly with conviction. "And I need a distraction." With a sharp huff, Polly grabbed onto the crook of his elbow as the two ventured down the grimy streets of Small Heath, listening for the girl's squeal of laughter and quick footsteps, looking in every corner for a hint of the troublemaker John called sister. They looked in all the usual places: the Cut and the stables were empty, neither Uncle Charlie or Curly had seen her, the Garrison hadn't had a Shelby in it all day according to Harry (much to both of their surprise), and she wasn't hiding away at a friend's house. Accepting defeat, the two decided to trudge back to Watery Lane to tell Tommy and Arthur that they couldn't find Y/N and thus force every Peaky Blinder awake or otherwise to join a search party for her. Until, Polly stopped in front of the Church, forcing John to stop in his tracks too.  "What the Hell, Pol," he began before turning to follow his aunt's gaze. In the steps in front of the Church sat a familiar figure. Thirteen year old Isaiah Jesus was hunched up, a cigarette loose in his hands and smoke surrounding him. Both the Shelbys walked up with kind smiles, always happy to see the preacher's boy. As soon as Isaiah heard the familiar march of Polly's heels, he stumbled to stand up, dropping the cigarette and stamping it out. He brought his sleeve (that was getting shorter on his long arms every time they saw him) up to rub his nose, a motion that irritated both of their parental instincts. With a small sigh, he waved at them. "Hello Mrs Grey," he said politely, although a little hoarse. Getting closer, they could both see his eyes were slightly pink, his dark skin shining with recent tears. It seemed as if he didn't just come away from his father's view to smoke. "Are you alright, Si?" John asked softly. Isaiah pressed his lips together, preventing the tears in his eyes from spilling in front of them as he gave a hesitant nod. "Yeah, um, Y/N is in there," he swallowed thickly, pointing behind him. He refused to meet their eyes. "She's talking to my...my mum, and uh Martha too." John froze at the name. He hadn't heard it spoken in so long, except for the incessant chanting in his head. But Isaiah wasn't afraid to say her name, he knew all too well about grief. They remembered how much smaller he was then, his black sleeves and trousers needed to be rolled up as he walked alongside his mother and baby sister's coffin. In an instant, John walked into the Church. The sound of the door made Jeremiah, sat in the back pew, turn around. With a warm smile, he brought a finger to his lips, then pointed ahead of the three of them. In front of the altar, Y/N was sat on the floor - despite the multitudes of empty chairs surrounding her - as you looked up, illuminated by the light. Although the Birmingham sky was perpetually grey, the stained glass window shone in gold and pinks. "God, I think it must be nice for Mrs Jesus to have Martha," your voice rung through the stone building, as you chattered on, as conversationally as you would speak to Finn. "I mean, little Delilah must be..." you paused, and John knew you were doing that scrunched up face you and Arthur had when you were trying to do sums. "Five? I think. Well, Polly said we were all a right menace at that age, so Martha'll be there to help her." John looked from Jeremiah's joyous expression to Polly's uneasy one, not sure which side he related to more. "Martha really was the best mother." You said it a little bit sadder. "The kids all miss her, and John's..." He took a step forward, craning to hear what you had to say for him. "He's in so much pain, and I don't know what to do. God, please give me some of it for him. He's already got so much going on in his brain, and Polly said that I've got an empty head, so I wouldn't mind carrying some of it for him. I know Tommy or Arthur would do the same, but their heads are still messed up from the War, and I guess John's is too. He just has more important stuff to think about." For what felt like the first time in a while, John smiled. He walked down the aisle and placed a gentle tap on your bent head. Startled, you looked up. Seeing John, you gave him a big grin as he came to come sit down next to you, cross-legged as if he was back in school and Mrs Changretta was reprimanding him again. He supposed that's what the presence of God felt like to him- a disappointed authoritarian. He held onto his sister's hand, as you looked back up to the intricate window. "Martha, I'm gonna hug John for you now." You moved over to wrap you arms around him, only reaching up to his shoulder as you nuzzled your head against his coat. He knew it was itchy for you, so he pulled you into his lap like he'd do when you were so much younger. Smiling wide, you rested against him like you were still that toddler.  "Hey Y/N-" he didn't get to finish his sentence, as you gave him an annoyed arch of your eyebrows as you brought a finger up to shush him. Sitting up, she looked back up to the window. "Sorry God, I'm going to speak to John now. I'm sorry I got mad at Finn this week, and mum I swear I didn't mean to push him in the Cut, please help me make everyone smile again, and..." you gave a look of pure concentration as she held onto your hands tighter. "That's it! Amen."  You snuggled back down into John's arms, looking at him expectantly. "You can talk now," you told him sweetly. Despite himself, John laughed loudly, giving you a toothy grin. "Oh, can I?" He sounded teasing, and it made Polly beam at Jeremiah as they saw, for the first time in weeks, his happiness that once radiated from him. "Well, Y/N, I just wanted to say it's sweet what you said the big man about me, but you don't have to take on my pain for me." "I don't have to," you repeated sternly. "I choose to." "Even so," John smiled again, the feeling somehow foreign on his face. "The pain I feel is just a reminder of how much I love her." He couldn't say her name, it choked in his mouth, but you understood, nodding your head dutifully. "And it will get easier to handle with time." He looked up to the window, the eyes of a Biblical hero he couldn't name, that seemed to listen to each word. "And, Martha, when that happens, the kids' and I, we'll smile every time we think of you cause of how much we love you, right?" "Amen," Y/N said softly.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders angst #peaky blinders imagine #john shelby #martha shelby #polly grey #ada shelby #jeremiah jesus #isaiah jesus #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #finn shelby #shelby!sister #shelby!reader #shelby sister #shelby reader #im sorry #I thought of this idea and got sad so now you can all be sad with me #death trigger warning #death tw

[crimsonthehobo]

Battle Scars - (1/?)

[A/N:] Haven’t been on this account in months, am quite sleep-deprived and I haven’t eaten breakfast yet. Well, lunch now apparently. So before I lose the minimal courage I got, I’ll just drop this off here and hope it works! Don’t know when I might write the next part, might even not. Who knows. Mind’s wonky. This has been in my files for a long while, wrote it back when Guy Sebastian’s song Battle Scars got stuck in my head. Figured I might as well let it stop collecting dust. Also, considering I’ve never done this before, I don’t know how to properly tag. 

If there’s tags I should put, ESPECIALLY if they’re tw tags, please do tell me. [Summary:] The child of a general, the only survivor of a (frankly) unethical experiment, and the old college roommate of one Alexandra Danvers. Somehow all three of those things correlate with one another, not that you can remember at this point. You just want to live in the forest, forgetting the reasons for the scars that litter your body. [Warning(s):] Reader’s thoughts get... dark. Somewhat. More depressing, I think. Some people horrifically mutate too, so there’s that. Again, if there should be warnings in the tags or here that I should put but didn’t, do tell me. What else... uh, this is approximately 11k words long? Maybe that deserves a warning all to itself. Is there a tag that explains “possibly turns you into a modern-day cave person living in forests to steal from humans and wrestle bears”? Possibly a spoiler, but hey, at least it means you read warnings, so congrats!

The first time you felt like you’d failed, was when you had to leave the first love of your life. It was the only scar that had no physical counterpart, but you’d felt the mind-numbing pain, nonetheless.

“You watch yourself, alright? I won’t be around to keep your head screwed on for you!”

“Yeah, yeah…”

You rolled your eyes, pointedly keeping your focus on shoving the remaining belongings you had into your duffle. You didn’t look at her. You couldn’t. You knew if you did, you’d break.

Silence fell over the room at your half-hearted response, the lack of noise almost making you regret not saying anything more in reply. And then…

“Do… Do you really have to go?”

‘Damn it.’

Alex’s words were shaky, barely louder than a whisper. The strained tinge in her voice urged you to look up from zipping up your bag, glancing over at the source.

Seated on your bed with her legs over the side, she sat hunched over as one of her legs anxiously shook up and down against the edge. Her hands were curled into fists between her knees, knuckles white as her forearms tensed from their placement on her thighs.

She looked so… small. Nervous. It wasn’t like her.

She was supposed to be Alex Danvers. A stubborn redhead that was tough-as-nails and was always up for drinking you under the table any day!

But you couldn’t blame her for not being herself. She was heartbroken, and so were you.

Though, it made you feel guilty that it was because of you that she looked so weak.

No, “weak” wasn’t the word.

Vulnerable…

Vulnerable seemed more fitting.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked away, but it didn’t last for long. You felt her tap your jaw; once, twice, then a third time. For you two, it was a universal sign that you needed to listen. That what would be said was important.

It was an action that would only take effect if done by the other, and no one else.

It could calm either of you from rage, or even help you fight the haze of drunkenness to be in some semblance of sober.

It was special. Meaningful.

Hence why your automatic reaction was to turn, to obey the silent request to face her.

“You’ll stay in touch, yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

Now you? You were weak. While the owner of your heart was devastated right in front of you, all you could offer for comfort was an unconvincing smile and a useless apology.

Her throat bobbed as she attempted to swallow back a sob, but the teary shine in her eyes gave her away.

Another surge of guilt struck your heart and made you avert your eyes elsewhere, anywhere, as long as they were not on her.

‘Look at what you’ve done.’

It was your fault. She didn’t even know why you were leaving so suddenly.

Your father had found out of your attraction to her, and needless to say, he didn’t take it lightly. A few strings pulled later, and you were being sent away to be “straightened out.” The thought almost made scoff during that particular conversation in his study, but you accepted the consequences anyway.

You should’ve been better.

You should’ve done better.

You didn’t protect her well enough.

The fault was none but yours… and the knife you felt in your heart would remind you for a long while to come.

~~~

 The second time you felt like you’d failed, happened two years after that moment in your college dorm room.

It took months for that scar to start to heal, but you knew it would take years before it would even begin to fade.

You’d tried to keep in contact, but you had your life to live and so did she. Not to mention the day your father heard of the two of you still communicating, he pulled more strings to cut you off. It was too late, anyway. You’d already stopped talking by then.

But whether the silence was for the better or worse was up for debate.

Just the thought of her made your heart lurch, and actually interacting with her never failed to re-open that scar anew. The space, however agonizing, let the wound heal.

Yet that very same space was what let you drown yourself into your current occupation. In order to compensate for the agony, you let yourself fall deeper and deeper into your work. Though at this point, you were questioning if you should even call it that.

Unknown to her, a month into your time in the military, a general offered you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

You found it hard to believe. You weren’t stupid, you could read between the lines. You knew “opportunity” also meant “ulterior motive.”

He didn’t prove you wrong.

When you walked into the conference room you’d been instructed to enter, your eyes immediately fell to the only individual inside.

General Lane.

You knew three things about him. One, he had been your father’s best friend. Two, he had a palpable dislike for any and all alien life. Specifically, Superman. Three, whenever he began to rant, just smile, and nod.

It was only the two of you there, yet you couldn’t seem to find it in you to focus. Not after he uttered the words “military program.”

You already knew this wouldn’t end well.

Though you remained silent, your eyes having glazed over as the static in your ears prevented his words from reaching your brain, he continued to speak. You only managed to catch bits and pieces, but you got the gist.

They wanted to conduct an experiment and were looking for lab rats. They wanted you to be one.

You weren’t surprised they asked. To everyone else’s knowledge, you had no one left in your life but you. Your father made sure any links between you and Alex were cleanly severed, meaning any history between you two had been cleared. You had no family other than your parents, your mother having passed while you were still in your single digits, while your father had done the same just a week before this very meeting.

‘Tch… no love lost there.’

But, considering he was a respected figure and a close friend of the very same general right in front of you, you had to at least act as if his death affected you. Your father had always been one for appearances, so no one outside of the two of you (and Alex) knew just how estranged you’d been from the other. Because of this, luckily (or unluckily, depending on what way you view it), people took your indifferent poker face to be one of grief.

General Lane wanted to capitalize on that. On you.

You had military blood in you (because apparently that meant you were exactly like your father), you had a “reason” to go missing (grief, hah), and—as far as he was concerned—you had no close relations that would worry should you ever disappear (you… couldn’t really think of a quip to internalize there). You seemed like the perfect guinea pig.

“…We need heroes around here. Human heroes. Not those monsters who could fall to their instincts at the drop of a hat, or at the touch of some space rock—”

Again, it came with no surprise to you that extra-terrestrials were the main focus of said experiment.

You wanted to say no. Fuck, did you want to say no. You wanted no part in this blind hatred. But then…

“—They’re never here when we actually need them. A group of freaks like him are planning to go after National City to lure him out, and where is Superman? Frolicking off in space! The President had an entire clandestine organization made exactly for roach-connected situations like this, yet they don’t even know—”

Your blood ran cold, your hearing suddenly becoming clear as your eyes bore into his.

National City.

Of all the places, they had to go there. You didn’t give it a second thought. You didn’t have to.

“I’ll do it.”

.

.

.

You had no idea what CADMUS was, just that they were collaborating with the U.S. Military to make you and forty-nine others into the ones that would “exterminate the roaches infesting the planet.”

Sounded more like “short-sighted discrimination with an unhealthy dash of xenophobia” than “rational thought for the human race” to you; but as long as you could protect Alex, you didn’t care how much of the mindless drivel you had to sit through.

You didn’t count how many times you found yourself strapped to a metal bed, or how many times you found a needle being stuck into you. Rather, you couldn’t. More than half the time, whatever they put into your bloodstream always made you feel woozy. Enough to make you practically perpetually confused.

Any recollection of your experiences during the experimentation were impossible to stir, and after seeing that one woman’s all-too-amused smirk a few too many times, you were convinced that it had been on purpose.

Before you knew it, another month had passed. Not that you would’ve realized it yourself. Your best guess would’ve been a week, if it weren’t for the woman General Lane had assigned to you telling you otherwise.

She was about your age, maybe a month or so younger. Lucia was her name if you remembered correctly. She’d been left by him to keep an eye on you, or to “keep you sane” as she worded so eloquently.

She was the first person you saw the moment you could properly think again. Her calming presence was a breath of fresh air, and for a moment, everything felt… nice.

Until a soldier barged through the door of your allocated resting area, screaming about an attack.

Time seemed to blur once again, and the next thing you knew, you were in the middle of a war zone. A mile or two from some desert base in the middle of nowhere.

Only you and the rest of the fifty who had been volunteered for the Eradication Program had been deployed. You wished you hadn’t been. The others were bloodthirsty, tearing through the opposition the moment they were ordered to. You, however, chose to take a step back and analyse the enemy.

Most of the “opposing force” looked to be human, not alien. None of them seemed hostile, either. Well… until they were provoked, that is. The human-like members of their group—who you’re sure actually were human—were being protected by their definitely-alien comrades, clearly not trained for combat or any attack whatsoever. In fact, if their attire was anything to go by, they all worked in what could be considered “support” occupations. Engineers, researchers, varying members of medical staff… not one of them appeared to be soldiers.

What was General Lane not telling you?

Were you really protecting National City?

…Were you even in National City?

You felt your comms crackle in your ears, said general’s voice screeching, “What the HELL are you doing?! Move your ass, Six!”

Right. Soldier Six, your call sign. Simply because you were the sixth one to wake up.

How original.

You huffed, and in retaliation to the general’s orders, you tore the device out of your ear and threw it as far as you could over your shoulder.

Because frankly, you didn’t want to. Not when you’d been pit against wrongly identified “hostiles.”

Despite your stubbornness to keep your feet rooted to your spot, soon enough, you didn’t have the privilege of choosing to abstain.

The other “volunteers”—all forty-nine of them—began to stop and convulse. Their flesh rippled beneath their skin, muscles expanding and contracting in an obscene manner.

Something had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.          

Each and every one of them mutated appallingly right before your very eyes, all of them attaining a different level of horrendous to another. Some grew limbs, some lost them. Others had extra eyes while a handful had one left or none at all. A few had their nails elongate into claws, others had a tailbone that whipped its way through the air. More than half had lost the colours of their irises—no, not just the colour. The pupils and irises themselves disappeared completely. It was a horrific spectacle to behold.

To call these things a shell of their former selves, would be insulting to the humans they used to be.

Was this going to happen to you?

You didn’t have much time for your thoughts. The one thing that didn’t change was the sheer amount of bloodthirst coursing through their veins. With the supposedly villainous aliens already exhausted, they wouldn’t last a second round against the other volunteer—

‘…No,’ You shook your head, fists clenched tight, ‘Those aren’t the volunteers anymore.’

From what you could see, those men and women died the moment the experiments started. All you could do for them, was help them rest in peace.

And you doubt they’d be getting any rest with their bodies wreaking havoc as these beasts.

Using the enhanced abilities you shared with the monstrosities, you slowly but surely took them out one by one.

They fought like animals.

Yet no matter how many times they slashed at your body, no matter how many times they lunged for your head, nor how many times they made you bleed, you continued to end every single one of them. You didn’t want any of them to suffer longer than they already have.

As with most things nowadays, in your eyes, the details were nothing but a blur. Everything felt… vague. Flashes of claws, bones, and agonizing pain run through your mind, yet no instance remained distinct for more than a second.

…Was this a symptom? Of the experiment, or the transformation?

Fear of the truth made you falter, and a skeletal tail surging straight through your right thigh forced your focus to return. But then so too would the questions, along with the subsequent terror, until another wound started the cycle another time. Again and again, until after what felt like an eternity, the last of them finally fell with an inhuman screech. It was done. But at what cost?

You surveyed your battleground, heart heavy and clenched in an icy grip. You couldn’t protect them, save them. Any of them.

A mighty hack then reverberated through the painfully silent air and caused you to flinch. Your head snapped up to turn to its direction, your feet already making their way over. You’d thoughtlessly skidded onto your knees, the coin-flip reaction bringing you to the survivor’s side. It was an alien.

Your eyes were wide in alarm, hands flittering around as your mind buzzed at what to do. There were so many injuries. Far too many for him to survive, alien or no. Your eyes met his, and your breath hitched in surprise. His irises didn’t scream anger or disgust like you expected. Instead, they were shining in wonder so innocent, it was almost childlike.

“You… Your body… did not… revolt?” the dying male grinned, placing a hand in yours to grip it in glee, “M-Miracle! It… I-It is m-miracle!”

For a moment, you were confused. Until you followed his gaze and watched as your body slowly stitched itself back together. One shallow cut in particular caught your attention, the damage slowly disappearing before your very eyes, leaving not a single blemish on your skin. You’d been so focused on fighting, that you didn’t even stop and wonder how you were still alive. After this day, there may not even be a single scar found.

At another bloody cough, newfound healing abilities were far from the forefront of your mind. Your vision blurred with tears, a sob escaping without your control. It was your fault. It was all your fault.

“Sorry…” You hadn’t spoken in so long, your voice harsh and throat sore, “I- I’m so sorry.”

He weakly shook his head, “B-Blame… not… on y-you. Deceived. We… We all… were…”

“W-What?”

With a wince, he forced his other arm to point to one of his fallen allies, a human researcher about a meter or so north of you.

“Necklace… take…” the light in his eyes was beginning to die, you could see it and he could feel it. Forcing a shaky smile, he murmured in his broken English, “Promise… y-you… not feel… guilty?”

“I…”

You knew you’d feel guilty.

You should, shouldn’t you? This was all your fault! You were careless and made a mistake once again. You didn’t see through the veil, you weren’t smart enough. You couldn’t stop the others, you weren’t quick enough.

You weren’t enough.

And just like before, people suffered because of it.

But… although he was on his last seconds of life, he looked at you so brightly. He was still so hopeful. How could you break such a wonderous being in his last moments?

You shook your head ‘no,’ lying, knowing this would be a wound that would last a long time to come. From the huff he gave, you felt like he knew that too.

Nonetheless, he coughed out, “P-Promise?”

You swallowed, feeling a fresh wave of hot tears cascading down your cheeks. With another lurch from your heavy heart, you gave him a nod and a shaky smile of your own, “I promise.”

His smile grew a fraction wider, “P… Pro… mise…”

His last breath left him, leaving the hand still in yours to fall, limp.

You were wrong earlier, there was a scar left behind.

The laceration you’d received from foolishly grabbing onto a tail, the one injury that had been obscured from your sight by his hold, had left a mark. You knew what it would be. A memento, of another time you’d failed. Of the first time your naivety took the life of another. You let a sob escape your control.

And another…

And another…

For hours you stayed on the blood-soaked sand, the coarse particles dyed red with the proof of the violent loss of life. By the time you heard a chopper land meters away to analyse the aftermath, your tears had long since dried and the last remnants of your rampant emotions were now trapped deep within, leaving only your now-signature emotionless mask. Thankfully, they understood enough that your mind was stuck elsewhere and didn’t bother to get a mission report out of you.

They did, however, cheer at the averted “crisis.”

All except Lucia. It was a small comfort, but a comfort, nonetheless. Rather than cheering, she sat next to you, a consoling hand on your shoulder as she murmured apologies for wrongs not her own.

For a brief moment, you wondered why she was here. What her role was in all of this mess, how she got caught up in it…

But when the others’ voices drowned out Lucia’s and all you could hear was their excitement and joy, your thoughts were immediately overrun by pure rage. Your stare morphed into a glare as your eyes kept themselves glued to the carnage below, hand clutching the unseen necklace concealed by your dog tags.

You were the only one who survived.

You were the only success.

You were now a monster.

 ~~~

 It was two years later after that, that the third occurrence happened.

Although you held a great amount of distrust for the U.S. Military, you never left their command. Foolishly, you stayed and did whatever they said. You went to where they told you you’d been needed. You fought who they told you to fight. You killed who they told you to kill.

All because of your own fear.

What if you were already transforming? What if your body was just one second away from fighting whatever gave you your powers? What if, the moment you left… you went berserk?

One “what if” after another festered in your mind, leading to you to forcibly suppress your own self and play their perfect little soldier, if only to keep your own body at bay should it ever run amok.

After all, they created you. The only ones who would know how to stop you would be them, right?

Besides, what would you even do once you left? They’d written the end of your life for you the moment you agreed to be a lab experiment.

Who would you have turned to?

Alex?

You scoffed at the thought. You said “yes” to help protect her, not drag her into the damn problem.

For a year and a half, you’d justified your stay with those thoughts, and for more than half of that time you let yourself be used as a mere weapon. It took you a year until you accepted the truth of your situation, and it wasn’t until roughly three months prior to your third failure that you finally let yourself see reason.

 .

.

.

 You sat up on your bunk, eyes on your hands, staring at blood that none but you could see. Sweat dripped from your brow, faint screams echoing in your eardrums, audible just beneath the vigorous beating of your heart.

‘I can’t keep this up…’ You released a shuddering breath, ‘How long will I have to keep this up?!’

Ever since that day in the desert, your nights were never peaceful, your sleep never serene. You’d long since gotten used to the endless screams of terror, the unending stream of unfamiliar faces contorting in woe. But what you hadn’t prepared for—what you never thought you’d ever need to prepare for—was for those faces to suddenly become familiar.

Alex had been petrified, the alien terrified, and Lucia… Lucia lay on the bloodied, black dirt, prone. Her face perpetually mortified. Even after you lurched forward in your bed and had left the realm of dreams, their suffering still danced in the shadows of your surroundings, the remnants of their frightened faces flashing in your eyes like some ghastly slideshow.

Their misery was because of you. You’d stumbled too deep into the haze, and by the time you came out, you had become what you feared the most. The cause of their torment.

‘What am I doing with my life?’

It was on that night that you truly accepted the reality of your situation. You had let your mind wander and, without realizing, let yourself function on autopilot for too long. It wasn’t until now, on this night—when you were terrorized by their screams—that you accepted that fact. But you felt it was already too late.

By mindlessly putting your life on the line, you had saved hundreds of lives—or so you were told. Yet for every life you saved, you knew there had been at least one you’d taken in return.

Your comrades rejoiced at your feats, and even a few of the higher-ups praised your work.

And yet…

Why did you feel nothing? Why did you feel out of place?

Why did you feel like you were doing something you weren’t meant to?

You’d been confused, very much so. For over a year, in fact. Your body felt ironically alien. Different. As if you’d been sleepwalking the past two years. Your memories, too, felt foreign. They were more like dreams than anything else.

No… “dream” was far too nice of a word.

Nightmare—like vulnerable—seemed more fitting.

Your recollection of the past two years was a mess. There were only a handful of distinct memories you could recall, and all were of them. Alex… the alien… and Lucia. The rest were all a hazy blur, a fever dream that kept you jumping from one horrific scene to another.

You didn’t even know who you’d been fighting the entire time. No one ever gave you a clear picture, only stating where you were needed and what had to be done. You vaguely remember a mix of terrified faces, both alien and human. What did they even do wrong?

Did they even do wrong?

It was then that reality truly sunk in. You already knew that you were a weapon, one for them to use however and whenever they saw fit. What was hardest to swallow was the fact that the blood you’d let yourself spill—blood you could’ve chosen not to spill—could very well have been those of innocents.

You buried your face into your knees, fingers threading through your hair and gripping your pounding skull. You felt your nails dig into your scalp.

Luckily for your tattered mental state, Lucia had been there to help anchor you back to reality.

She murmured lowly as she gently pried your fingers from your head, and though her words went through one ear and out the other, her voice alone soothed you. You found that she knew exactly what to do, and even let you bury your face into her shoulder as she cooed at you softly, her hands tenderly drawing calming patterns on your back.

You’d been so happy that she was there. It wasn’t until hours later, after both of you had passed out in emotional exhaustion, that you woke up and realized that she had always been there. You’d just been too stuck in your own mind to see her.

When she woke up, her eyes meeting yours, neither of you spoke a word. Yet you both knew your dynamic had shifted, the air between you different. It simply went unsaid.

It didn’t go unseen, however. Everyone knew how dangerous you were, and after a rookie’s idiotic mistake, knew how equally dangerous it was to make Lucia unhappy in any way.

(His shoulder wouldn’t shove into others the same way again, nor would his ego inflate with the chasm you’d left.)

Stupidly, despite the revelations of that night—perhaps even because of said revelations—you continued living under the government’s employ.

In your mind, it was no longer just for your fear, it was also for her sake. If you left, you knew she would do whatever it took to stay by your side, regardless of the danger. Even if you were to be hunted, experimented, or executed, she would stay. And none of those fates were any you would allow to befall her.

No matter the gruesome sights that looped in your mind like a film at some grisly theatre, you jumped into the fray again, and again, and again. Still as reckless. Still as unrelenting. Still as guilty.

Not a single complaint ever left your lips. You felt you deserved it. But more importantly, you felt you were protecting her.

She didn’t agree.

The topic had been the spark of many arguments between the two of you, one such case being…

“You can’t keep doing this—you can’t keep living like this!”

‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

You stayed silent, sat on your bed in your designated quarters. Your eyes were trained on her pacing form as you fiddled with the fresh bandages on your arms, replies only said in mind.

At this point, this scene was common. You’d gotten injured, she’d gotten frustrated, and you had the decency to listen. You knew Lucia wasn’t mad at you. Annoyed? Maybe. But not mad. Her anger was always directed at the same people, and never to you. She just hated to see you hurt.

‘Unfortunately, it’s an occupational haza—'

“—And don’t you say it’s an occupational hazard!”

Or… not?

Lucia stopped in her tracks, eyes boring into your own, “There are always ways to complete your missions without you ending up a bloody mess, but they don’t care about that, do they? As long as the mission is completed as soon as possible, they don’t give a damn. What if you never healed? What if you actually found something that would actually get you killed?” 

You had no response for that.

“They don’t even know of the full extent of your powers—none of us do! They started sending you out the day after that desert! Yet here we are again… I don’t understand why we don’t just leave.”

You opened your mouth to speak for the first time, to remind her of the dangers of such a plan just as you always had in the past, when you felt your hairs stand on end. Someone was eavesdropping. Your glare flashed to the door, spotting an eye widen at your stare before rushing off. You’d rush after them, but you knew nothing could be done without arousing suspicion. This base was full soldiers, and thus witnesses. Unfortunately, it was also full of snitches.

You stood abruptly, causing Lucia to jerk in surprise. Her brow furrowed when she spotted the grim frown you now wore.

“We’re leaving. Now.”

She could only blink in shock, “Now?”

“Now.”

The conversation would’ve been seen as treason. Or, at best, the start of it. You needed to run.

She followed your unwavering stare to the door, the sight of its slight opening making the cogs in her mind connect the dots. Someone had heard, and were no doubt reporting you. Her shock melted into determination, “I’ve already got a bag of necessities packed in case of an emergency escape. Let’s go.”

Next thing you knew, you were both dashing through corridors, unfamiliar alarms blaring the moment you had retrieved her bag. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had prepared for this eventuality.

Squad after squad were sent after you both, all made up of people you’d seen as comrades and allies not even an hour before. Any fondness you held for each of them, however, immediately dissipated the moment they aimed a gun even a meter in Lucia’s direction. With a growl, you tore through every single one of them, unabashed by their betrayed yells so long as her safety was assured.

But you’d made a mistake. You were focused too much on those aiming for her, that you forgot there were others targeting yourself. Lucia didn’t. Which is why she spotted the soldier pulling out a weapon from a case before you did.

It looked like a gun, but she knew it was different. She could feel that it was. When they overlooked her completely and aimed for you, she knew she was right. Without a second thought, she shoved you out of the way, just as the soldier pulled the trigger.

A bang echoed in your ears, then a pained scream and a thud.

Your heart dropped. She’d pushed you away. Because of her, the bullet only grazed your torso… before tearing straight through her own.

You fell to your knees, not sparing a glance away from Lucia even as you put a bullet straight through the head of the soldier responsible.

“You IDIOT! Why would you do that?! You know I would’ve survived it!”

Your eyes were panicked, breathing growing more erratic by the second as you attempted to staunch the blood flowing from her wound. There was so much blood… why was there so much blood?!

“No…” she shook her head, “You… You wouldn’t’ve. N-Not… Not this one.”

You could hear footsteps and voices growing closer. You ignored them.

“I always survive, it’s my THING!” You gritted your teeth, ignoring the tears leaving tracks down your cheeks, “Stop talking, would you?! You need all your damn energy!”

Lucia simply smiled, even as more of the coppery liquid slid down the side of her mouth, “Promise me… promise me you w-won’t blame yourself f-for this?”

Déjà vu. Taunting, agonizing, déjà vu.

“I… I…” more tears, and a sob. What ever happened to control? “…I can’t.”

Her smile didn’t waver, as if she expected your response. Instead, she lifted a hand to your cheek, thumb gently wiping a tear away, “I know what you’re thinking, and I know it’s hard f-for you t-to think otherwise, love… but this isn’t your fault. I chose to do this. Y-You couldn’t’ve done anything to stop me.”

“…” You shook your head in disbelief, feeling more blood seep through your fingers.

Why wouldn’t the bleeding stop?!

“C’mon, love. P-Please, look at me?”

“…”

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see her so accepting of her fate.

Yet you couldn’t help the confused furrow of your brows at her tapping your jaw, your focus immediately swivelling to her. Not on instinct, but in question, confusion, and slight betrayal. You’d never regretted telling her of your first love, of admitting that there were some things you could never forget. Until now.

“Th-There you are. I know it hurts, but you have t-to p-promise me, then you need to leave me.”

The familiar action had increased your pain tenfold, but her words had the panic in your eyes grow more intense, blood freezing in your veins.

‘No. NO. NononoNO—’ You looked away as you felt your body quake, the chill caused by her words making your limbs feel like lead, ‘Not you… anybody but you!’

You felt her tap your jaw again, but you didn’t look to her, preferring to stubbornly keep your eyes on your hands. You wouldn’t- You couldn’t.

“Please…” Lucia’s voice sounded so small, distant. Just like with the alien, you knew she was on her last breaths, and so did she, “L-Listen to me… they… now want you… gone. I-I know… it’s a lot to ask, but you have to leave me. Please. T-That bullet was meant f-for you—”

You couldn’t help but snap, “What bullet isn’t when I’m out on the field?!”

“N-No, love. T-They made it for you. T-To kill you…” she weakly shook her head, “I… I… s-saw it… wasn’t… normal.”

“Shit—SHIT! Why can’t I stop the god damn bleeding?!”

You hated that there were so many things that you couldn’t do. Why can’t you just do something—anything—right for once?!

As always, she knew where your mind was headed, “N-No matter… how little… y-you… think of yourself… I know y-you were meant… to be amazing. F-From the moment I… I saw you… I knew you’d be… a… a-a hero.”

“What kind of fucking hero can’t even save the person she loves?!” head hung low, you pulled your hands away from her wound, reluctantly accepting that it was futile, “What kind of useless hero am I?”

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the other draping itself across her stomach. You shifted yourself closer, cautiously embracing the dying woman. Apology after apology left your mouth, your tears dripped down from your cheeks only to mix with her own.

“It’s not… your… fau…” her hand, now much weaker than it had been earlier, fell limply onto the arm you’d placed on her stomach. When her fingers lightly squeezed your forearm, you knew what she expected. You released your grip on her hip, linking your hand with hers, making her chuckle faintly, “I-It… theirs… y-y’hear me? N-Never fo… forget… ‘s wasn’t… fault…”

“I… I won’t…”

You knew you’d never forget this day… just as how you’d never forget where the fault would forever lay in your mind.

“L… Love you…” her eyes were fluttering shut, and at the tug of her hand, you knew what she wanted.

You leaned closer, your lips pressing on hers for the final time. Only a second later did her last breath leave her lungs, and with it, one more piece of your fragile heart.

You could only stare, hoping that she would open her eyes and fill the deafening silence. But she didn’t, and you had to accept that she never would. When your mind finally opened itself to the rest of the world, you could hear the soldiers. Their orders for you to back down… or, more specifically, his.

General Lane.

When you saw a glimpse of his face, everything turned red and screams replaced the buzzing in your ears. You could never remember much past their anguish.

All you knew was the gash on your torso healed, but the mark never faded.

~~~

 Six months passed, and sleep was still a stranger. So were your mind and memories, but what else was new?

You had no idea where you were, you never did more than half the time. More often than not, you’d find yourself lost in thought, staring off at nothing as your finger lightly traced the scar hidden beneath your shirt. Sometimes you’d snap out of it, standing in the middle of an unfamiliar area. Occasionally, you’d stop yourself mid-step as you were walking or crossing the street.

Either way, people would be staring at you like you were insane. You couldn’t blame them, you felt like you were. That was fine, you never stayed in one area for long anyway.

For the past couple of months you’d been hopping from place to place, lingering only for three days at most. You didn’t have to do much to conceal your identity, considering the government already got rid of it for you. You did get yourself a new name, though.

Corazon.

Wasn’t exactly subtle to you, but it was better than Soldier Six and at least you could remember it.

How could you not, when your mistakes were always made by your soft heart?

You only wished that you had the ability to rid yourself of your emotions, then at least living would be somewhat bearable. You hated that even the smallest things could trigger your beating heart. It could’ve been a hair colour, a laugh, or just an oblivious pair holding hands, your heart wouldn’t fail to work with your fractured memories and remind you of what you’d lost.

You wished you could split the two, or at least rid yourself of one… maybe even both. You couldn’t think without feeling, nor feel without thinking. If you had no way to feel, no way to have a conscious thought, or both, then living a seemingly deathless life would be bearable. Sure, that sort of life isn’t one others would say is worth living, but neither is the one you are now.

The only thing keeping you away from finding a way to have that ‘plan’ to come into fruition, was the fact that—as far as you know—only the government could ‘help.’

You never wanted to make contact with those bastards again.

“Wha- HEY!”

At the indignant yell, you blinked yourself out of your stupor. Confused, you looked around.

You’d wandered into an alley. Huh.

Hearing a groan, you glanced down, spotting a boy who couldn’t’ve been any older than mid-teens. He was sat on the concrete, rubbing his forehead, having presumably fallen after colliding with you.

Then, you heard yelling.

You looked up and saw a group of men pointing and yelling unintelligibly at the boy at your feet. He sprang up and made a move to exit, only for your hand on his shoulder to stop him in his tracks. You felt his eyes on you, but yours never left the group stomping closer as they brandished their makeshift weapons in a supposedly threatening manner.

Hammers, nails in bats, metal pipes… generic, stereotypical, bad guy weapons. You saw a gun or two poking out from the waistbands of their pants, yet you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

When they stopped in front of you, they even puffed out their chests to make themselves look bigger. One of them stepped forward and grumbled with a voice made forcibly gruff, “You with this brat?”

“Pff,” You only shook your head in mirth. You’d heard of people like this in movies, but you never knew they actually existed.

His lips curled up into a snarl, “What’s so funny.”

“…” You smiled, tilted your head in faux innocence, and admitted clearly, “You.”

Predictably, your response infuriated him, and he launched himself towards you to attack.

Within a minute, him and his group were all unconscious, weapons—including their guns—left splintered and bent on the damp ground.

You grumbled, “Idiots.”

With another roll of your eyes, you spun on your heels and moved to leave the scene… only to face an overexcited fourteen-year-old.

“That was AWESOME!”

“!”

You blinked. You’d forgotten he was there. You watched, an eyebrow raised as he asked question after question, each going through one ear and out the other. Your mind didn’t register a single one, but from the rapid rate the words seemed to leave his lips, the number seemed endless.

Didn’t he need to breathe?

It was here that the boy lurched to a stop, his lungs lacking the air required to allow speech. You only blinked when he took in just a little too much oxygen. His overdramatic wheezing caused you to smirk and huff in mild amusement. His eyes darted to you at the noise, focusing on your mirth as he smacked a fist against his chest in an effort to abate his hacking.

“You…” he coughed again, “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You only offered a shrug in response. Considering past experience, human interaction wasn’t something you necessarily searched for. Generally, they all ended up morphing into some form of confrontation for you—or loss, but that was a thought hurriedly buried in the deepest recesses of your mind.

The boy wasn’t deterred by your silence. Instead, he seemed even more determined to fill the space with his own words. Again, most of them generally went through one ear and out the other.

“—I’m Lucas!”

Wait. Why was the kid telling you their name?

You still didn’t reply, but ‘Lucas’ didn’t seem fazed and continued, saying, “My friends call me Luke, though!”

He then scratched his head sheepishly, “Well… they would, if I had any.”

Head tilted in a questioning manner, your brow furrowed at his admission, movements that he managed to notice.

“Ah… well, nobody ever wants to be friends with the weird kid.”

You raised your eyebrow, and he pointed to the unconscious group at your feet as an explanation.

“Wouldn’t be the first time these guys went after me, and they don’t care whether I’m at school or not,” Lucas kicked away a stray can, giving the men an annoyed sneer, “Just that Dad ‘pays them back’ or something, I dunno. No one really wants to be caught up in a mess like this.”

You’d followed his gaze, staring at the people sprawled out on the dirty floor.

What were these guys, self-proclaimed tax collectors? Loan sharks? Wannabe gang members?

That last one seems to fit them to a T.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud growling of a stomach. And it wasn’t yours.

Shaking your head, you glanced back at Lucas, his face red in embarrassment. Without hesitation, you rooted through the pockets of a few of the men, forgoing their cards and instead pulled out handfuls of cash from their wallets.

You may already be considered a criminal by the U.S. Army, but you didn’t want more on your record than you already had. And you had standards.

You’d rather have “assault” and “pickpocketing” on that record over “not paying for fast food” any day. That last one just seems like a real shitty thing to be arrested over. Besides, you’d never steal from ordinary civilians… but you’d make exceptions for assholes.

You moved to leave the alley again, tousling Lucas’ hair as you went past. When you didn’t hear his footsteps following, you stopped at the entrance, sending another glance back towards his way you huffed at his stupefied expression before jerking your head in a gesture to follow. You couldn’t help but smile at his joyful expression, biting back a chuckle at his excited hopping at your side.

“Nice to meet you, Luke.”

.

.

.

Six more months passed, and after meeting Lucas, you haven’t left the town. You’d found out that he’d essentially raised himself. The kid’s mother was gone, and he didn’t know why. You met his father, and after that one meeting you knew he was useless. His debts weren’t even for necessities, just for his alcohol and gambling. Guy didn’t even seem to care that his son was the one suffering most from the consequences of his actions.

You were annoyed, but after witnessing him passed out in a bathtub, reaching over the edge to clutch at a toilet while a bottle of whiskey hung from his fingers, you knew he was a lost cause. Lucas knew it, too. Admitted that he’d known so for years.

You felt bad for the kid and did what you could to help. You kept those lackeys off his back. Got him clothes, food, school supplies if he needed them. You didn’t tell him where you got the money and he never asked, but considering how you’d initially met you assume he had a slight idea. You still didn’t talk much, and your attention span failed you at times, but he understood. He knew that you were at least trying.

At times he’d ask you for help with his homework, and you were convinced it caused you just as much grief as it did him. You could barely remember what happened months or a year before, let alone what you’d learnt over a decade ago.

You were a weapon, not a teacher. You could teach him how to kick ass with the best of them, but you didn’t know shit about literature or geography. Or whatever it was high schoolers learnt these days.

Even when you were working with the government, you didn’t have to know how to get around yourself. They just shipped you to the mission location and back, and that was that. You didn’t even know you got around now, considering how most of your time on the road was spent in your head.

You swear he only asked you to laugh at you. You’d try to intimidate him with a deadpan stare, but that only made the cheeky brat laugh louder. Your exasperation would fizzle out soon enough, his joy infectious. You found yourself feeling… happy. Normal. Like an average human. Something you never thought would be a near-unreachable standard.

But of course, as always, happiness in your life never lasted long.

You’d stopped moving. You stayed in one place for too long.

You’d focused too much on the present, that you forgot about the past you’d been running to escape. And so, it caught up.

You were running again. They were at your heels, this time. And you couldn’t just beat them into the ground.

Their weapons looked different. Their bullets hurt.

You didn’t want to believe that this was happening. Just this morning you’d been laughing with Lucas, pancake batter and syrup drizzled over your heads.

Now all you could hear were shouts and gunfire, blood dripping down a healing cut at your temple.

You wanted them to lose your tracks, but you knew how they worked. If you disappeared completely, they’d have to look for clues. Which would lead them to Lucas. Which was why you were leading them, herding them away like sheep to be as far away from the kid as possible. But it was not meant to be.

“Sis!”

The voice made electricity shoot up your spine, catching more than just your attention. You noticed a few soldiers turn to look his way as he ran towards you, even as you shook your head and urged him to turn back. He wouldn’t. You were family, how could he leave you behind?

“LUKE, RUN!”

…Was that your voice? Sometimes you’d forget what your voice sounded like, and not using it for weeks at a time definitely didn’t help your case.

He skidded meters away, eyeing the soldiers, his face conflicted, “But—”

You heard the crackling of their comms and spotted a few guns being pointed his way, one of them even pulled out a pin.

What the fuck was General Lane thinking?!

The kid was a civilian, not a criminal!

You sprinted over to Lucas, body shielding his within a second. You felt bullets pierce your back, easily tearing through the fabric of your clothing. You heard Lucas yelling for them to stop, but you knew they wouldn’t listen. You heard the tell-tale clinking of a grenade rolling on the concrete and you tightened your grip around him, eyes screwed shut. You heard the bellowed orders “TAKE COVER” and then…

Pain.

Searing, white-hot, pain was spreading on your back. You felt shrapnel enter your torso, the heat eating away at your skin. You forced yourself to endure the agony.

You were protecting him.

You repeated those four words in your mind like a mantra, mind clinging to them for a way to ground itself.

When you felt the dust settling, the ringing in your ears calming, you dared to open your eyes. And you wish you didn’t.

Despite your best efforts, Lucas had been hit. Twice. The projectiles had presumably ricocheted. Whether it was shrapnel or bullets, you didn’t know. All you knew was that he was wounded, and that you’ve failed once again.

“No…” You rasped out, tears obscuring your vision. Your throat hurt from disuse, but you continued to force the words out, “No… kid, not you too!”

“Hah,” Lucas laughed, not noticing the blood that came with the motion, “I’m… I… I didn’t e-expect to go like this. P-Pretty badass, huh?”

His eyes were beginning to flutter closed, the light in his eyes quickly dulling. Your breath hitched in your throat, and gritting your teeth, you muttered, “No, no… c’mon, eyes on me bud. Eyes on me!”

His head weakly flopped to the side as he grinned, teeth stained with blood, “S’okay… was meant t-to be gone in… in… that alley. Y’saved me… y’let me be happy… thank you.”

Lucas went limp. Just like that, he was gone. And so were you.

You didn’t flinch when the wounds on your back slowly stitched themselves back together, no doubt leaving a mark as every failure always did.

You didn’t resist when they forcefully yanked you away, uncaring that they had just taken the life of an innocent. The life of a child.

You felt someone forcefully lift your head, to which you muttered, “Kill me. Please.”

You didn’t speak any more after that, no matter how much they tried to get a reaction.

No… you wouldn’t do anything until you were either dead, or put face-to-face with the bastard you knew gave the order.

And as expected, they put him right where you wanted him.

You were back at the base, arid desert and all.

They’d seated you in a metal chair, one bolted down to the thick concrete beneath your feet. Your arms were forced to lie flush against its armrests, wrists cuffed into place.

You were in one of the interrogation rooms, metal walls to the front, back and the left. You weren’t fooled. You knew the wall to the right was a one-sided window. To know that there were people just watching you…

You felt like an animal.

It was only after General Lane stood across from you, after the only door leading in and out of the room clicked shut, that you even twitched. Your attention finally drifted up from the flimsy metal cuffs that they’d clamped around your wrists—not that they knew your strength had grown—and to the poor excuse of a man attempting to stand tall.

You glared at him, unabashedly showing the hatred burning within you. It made him swallow, despite the poker face he attempted to keep up. Your silent staring contest stretched on and on, his mouth repeatedly opening and closing in indecision. He wanted to speak, but had no idea what to say.

The people behind the window had plenty of words, though. You couldn’t catch all of them, but you managed to decipher a muffled few.

“Dad” was one. Which meant one of the people might’ve been his kid. Wouldn’t be implausible. Last time you paid attention to him, he had two. Girls, if your memory actually served you correct. And two of the voices you could hear were distinctly feminine.

“Our” was another, spoken with a lilt for emphasis before “Dad”, which meant both of his kids were there. If your first assumption was correct.

“Superman” was the last one you heard. It was the word that caused you the most grief. Why mention the “Man of Steel”? You remembered hearing someone rant about the Kryptonian, mentioning a possible relation between the hero and a journalist. One of General Lane’s kids was a journalist. That could pose a problem. If his kids really were on the other side of the glass, and Lucas’ info—

‘Luke.’

Any hesitation you had dissipated instantly. No matter what would become of you, you’d make this bastard pay. It was the least you could do.

Breaking away from the General’s stare, your eyes flashed to the window, cogs turning in your mind. Perhaps you could do worse than cause simple, physical, pain. You could expose him, have his children lose their faith in him. Even if they weren’t his children, they would be his soldiers. It could lead to questioning of his authority.

It was worth a shot. Besides, what did you have to lose?

“You killed him,” you snarled, “He was just a boy, but you killed him.”

You shot up from your seat. Rather, you shot up with your seat. The cuffs were still in place, but the bolts that held the seat down had lost their hold with a resounding crack.

General Lane jumped back in shock, the doorknob now jiggling as his soldiers desperately tried to come to his aid.

Without missing a beat, you tore your hands out of their restraints and pulled the long metal table that separated you two upwards, shoving it legs-first into where the door would be. The legs went right through the wall, the body of the table now blocking the entrance as well as the door itself.

‘That’s the front wall and entrance covered…’

With an audible growl, you turned back to the general, the man now scrambling back to push himself flat against a wall in fear. He was pointing a pistol at you, but you were undeterred.

You took a step, and he took a shot.

You took another, and he did the same.

You took a third, and the man emptied his gun into your torso.

You weren’t fazed, your fury burning too great for you to feel anything other than rage.

He looked like he was about to reply to your yell, but you cut him off before he could, snapping, “Your problem was with me. It always has been. There was no need for you to involve a civilian, let alone ordering your men to open fire!”

“I… I—”

“I wanted to live, so you tried to have me die. When I do want to die, you keep me alive. How much more do I have to suffer for you to be satisfied?! How much longer do I have to exist, for my wants to actually matter?!”

As you stomped closer towards him, you gripped the chair that had been meant for him and threw it across the room. The object formed a deep dent upon impact and rendered the back wall weak.

Releasing another growl, you lifted him up by the collar of his uniform, “How much lower are you going to fall, after murdering that poor boy? Is there even a bar lower for you to reach?!”

The general continued to ignore the futility of repeatedly pulling the trigger of his empty pistol, desperate for a way out. But without a miracle, he would never be able to escape.

Unfortunately, he got one. It came in the form of a Kryptonian, at that.

Superman broke through the dented wall, quick in separating you from the general. You felt your back smack against the one-sided window, the cool glass cracking beneath your flesh.

Oh, right. You hadn’t had the chance to change. Your shirt was still burnt at the back, the rest of your clothing tattered at the edges and your feet shoeless. Your state of dress seemed to come as a surprise to Superman, too. If the brief moment he took to observe his ‘opponent’ was any indication.

You glanced at the wall he’d used as an entrance. It wasn’t that much of a fall. It wouldn’t take much to heal if you got hurt. Ten seconds, at most.

Within a breath, you fearlessly leaped through the broken wall. You heard a choke of astonishment behind you as you did, but as much as you wanted to be amused by the alien, you recognized the threat he was to your freedom.

He was a goody-two-shoes. If he caught you, you’d just be locked up. And you’d be used as a lab rat or a weapon all over again. Never able to die.

You couldn’t let that happen.

You’d landed with a wince and a roll, a sickening crack shooting shocks up your left arm. You’d shaken off the pain, sprinting towards where you knew the weapons vault was. The rushing of wind reached your ears, indicating that the alien wasn’t far behind. Spotting the vault entrance straight ahead, you trusted your instincts and slid across the tile floor as if you were running a base. It worked.

Superman flew straight past you, and not expecting you to have sensed him coming, was going too fast to stop himself from crashing into the vault. Your eyes widened at the sight. You hadn’t predicted it either.

Hurriedly pushing yourself up to your feet, you’d rushed into the vault, mind flashing through the arsenal they had you use throughout the years. You’d known what they had in there, and one of them was definitely not good for a Super.

When you stepped foot into the vault, you were proven right. Superman was struggling to stand, green creeping its way through his veins.

“Shit…” without hesitation, you pulled him up. You wrapped his arm around your neck and dragged him out, uncaring of the guns pointed at you. You felt his questioning stare, and grumbled, “What.”

“Why?”

Such a simple question, made of only one word… yet the true nature of its complexity was beyond you. You shook your head. Not the time.

“Never wanted to kill anyone. Never wanted anyone dead, either…” You sighed, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Just wanted to be happy.”

Once you determined that he was at a safe enough distance, you promptly let him flop into the ground. You huffed at his comical “oof” before revealing the smoke grenade you had swiped from the vault. You pulled its pin, and as everyone’s vision began to be obscured, you muttered words only Superman could hear.

“Please, just leave me alone…”

 ~~~

You didn’t know if it was because of Superman’s influence, but you were. Left alone, that is.  Then again, it might’ve been because you’d kept away from civilization as best as you could, staying in forests for as long as you were able.

For how long at this point? You weren’t sure. By the time you’d left him in the smoke, it had been five years since the dorm with Alex. Three since the experiment. One since Lucia. And... none since Luke. 

With a shake of your head, their blurred faces and vague memories faded in an instant, the frown at the resurfacing thoughts of them quickly replaced with an easy-going smile.

The woods weren’t too bad.

The animals were surprisingly amicable, and you found an unfamiliar joy in jumping into lakes and rivers without any remorse. If you needed anything that couldn’t be provided naturally, the camp sites you’d managed to memorize the locations of were useful in that regard. Clothes, food, money…

You didn’t realize exactly how easy it was to steal from civilians until you weren’t one yourself.

Still... it should be troubling that you didn’t know how long you’d been living in the forests. Every day blurs together. You didn’t even know what forest you were living in. Or if you’d lived in more than one. Your memories continued to fracture, and due to lack of practice, you could feel your ability to speak and understand wavering.

Your memories…

Very few of them remained intact. You had a feeling that you had a part to play in it, intentional or not, considering that the ones you could remember seemed happy, and anything otherwise—anything that caused pain… either you got rid of them the second they came, or it made you retreat into the deepest recesses of your mind, never knowing how long you’d been in there the moment you returned to reality.

Could’ve been a few seconds, minutes, maybe even hours. It was partially why you’d lost track of how long you’d been living among the trees.

Every time you thought of your past, you were reminded of the burden that was carrying emotions. Of being human. It was roughly one month into living away from humans, that you accepted it was simpler to just ignore the fact that you had a life before this mess. That there had ever been happier times. If you couldn’t identify what was considered a ‘good’ memory, then you wouldn’t be sucked into the ‘bad’, right?

So you buried them. Even imagined little coffins for them and everything.

Part of you knows that it’s unhealthy. But that mindset is what led to those instances now being few and far in between—or, at least you hoped they were. Again, you didn’t really have a good sense of time.

But living was good. It was fun, not thinking of anything but what to do next. You could spend an entire day chasing after deer, or just climbing a tree. And do the same thing all over again tomorrow!

…It all sounds a bit boring now that you think about it. But oddly enough, the days were surprisingly fun. If you really wanted a thrill, all you had to do was start wrestling a bear! That was fun.  

You were actually rushing away from one right now, teasingly dangling yourself from one branch of a tree to another, when you heard a scream. A female scream, and then… a crash. While the noise terrified the bear, it only intrigued you, drawing you closer. Almost like a siren’s call.

You dropped down to the forest floor, tackling the bear in the process. After absentmindedly hauling it over your shoulder, you dashed through the treeline within seconds. Once out of the forest, you coughed as you blinked at the wreckage before you.

Two vehicles had collided roughly thirty meters away, the smoke billowing from the smouldering wreck making your lungs burn. What startled you more was the armed man holding a gun up to an injured, blonde woman twenty meters away from the crash.

You blinked at the man, who seemed to be talking the woman’s ears off. Rather, what was the word… monologuing? Yeah. Monologuing.

His cocky grin made you roll your eyes, the action leading to you noticing the bear’s presence on your shoulder. An idea struck. Your eyes narrowed at the man, before glancing over to the bear. The man. The bear. The man…

“BEAR!”

You gleefully yelled, startling them both. But what brought complete horror upon both humans, was the fact that there was now a bear hurtling towards them. Correction, towards the man.

He dropped like a rock, him and the bear both did. Whereas the poor, unharmed-yet-traumatised fuzzy animal quickly scrambled to its feet before sprinting back into the woods, the effectively disarmed male stayed flat on the concrete, out cold.

Tilting your head to the side, you walked up to the unconscious human, your brows furrowing as you wondered why he wasn’t moving.

You sniffed and rubbed at your itching nose, wincing at the horrible stench of roasting rubber. You couldn’t tell if the blood you smelt came from the wounds after the crash, or after the bear.

You gave him a light tap of a foot, checking if he’d wake up anytime soon. When the man didn’t budge, you shrugged and turned to go back to the forest, only to freeze when you were startled by the female he’d been threatening. You’d forgotten she was there, and the woman was far closer than you remembered her to be.

She looked stunned.

Her hands were hovering by her cheeks, palms over her mouth, tears brimming in her eyes as she muttered… a name? It sounded familiar. You didn’t know why. You tilted your head, confused.

“You…” she sobbed, tears now flowing freely. She stammered out, “You don’t remember, do you?”

Who was this woman?

Cautiously, you shook your head. Your was body tense, knees bent and ready to escape if you needed to.

“Nothing? It’s me, Eliza,” another shake of your head. She sniffled, “Eliza Danvers? One of my daughters brought you over for Thanksgiving a few times, you were like a part of our family, before… before… you disappeared.”

Danvers.

You didn’t hear anything past that, the word—name?—had a tremor course through your skull. That was… worrying? It should be worrying, right?

Your hands flashed to your aching temples, gritting your teeth, you croaked out, “D-Dan… Danvers?”

You hadn’t said anything in months. Your throat was probably as painful to use as your voice was to hear.

Eliza’s eyes shined brighter in realization. You were remembering.

“Yes, Danvers! Do you… Do you remember my daughter? She’d been your closest friend. Alex, Alexandra Danvers—”

Static was all you could hear. You dropped to your knees, the pain growing more unbearable the more she spoke. You barely felt the gravel of the road digging into your knees.

Alex?

Alex.

Who was—

“No… Don’t!”

That was… you? Why was this hurting so much? What was going on?

Why didn’t you want to remember?

You felt hands on your shoulders, desperately trying to… to what? Snap you out? Of what? Pain? You didn’t even know why it came up, let alone how to stop it!

Then… then a chill. One you haven’t felt since you encountered… someone. You couldn’t remember them, either.

All you could hear were your instincts.

Instincts…

Your instincts were screaming, frantic in wanting you to leave. To escape.

So you followed them.

Shrugging Eliza’s hands off of your shoulders, you jumped to your feet and swiftly fled into the woods, not turning back once. Not even when you heard her scream a name—yours?—and especially not when you heard the tell-tale swoosh of… a cape? You didn’t know.

Your thoughts made no sense right now. All you wanted was to go back and forget. To go back into the woods and be happy.

Just… be happy.

#Alex Danvers #Reader #x Reader #F!Reader #x F!Reader #Alex Danvers x Reader #Supergirl #Supergirl Fanfic #Supergirl Fic #Eliza Danvers #tw depressing thoughts #tw depressing stuff #tw depressive #tw depression #tw body horror #tw body modification #tw body parts #tw human experimentation

[i-love-my-trans-body]

“Sorry my nametag doesn’t match yours, but please don’t throw me back there“

An impulsive essay on queer infighting and isolation from community.

⚠️ TW: queerphobia, harassment, invalidation, gatekeeping, identity policing, infighting; Mention of rejection from family (for being queer), bullying, criminalization of queerness, implied/referenced exorsexism.

(*There are many LGBTQ+ communities across cultures, here I’m mainly talking about the overarching LGBTQ+ community across the US, not a specific group or organization.)

This is a long-ish post. Press J to skip on desktop.

    The absolute insistence that queer people define themselves in one, somehow communally-agreed upon way is beyond frustrating. The same people praising fluidity, being true to yourself, and expressing who you are freely so often inject rude, assumptive doubts into discussions of identities they know next to nothing about.

    It’s perfectly fine to ask questions, and learn more about the community. What isn’t fine is doing zero research, then entering positive spaces for fellow queer folks, just to be disingenuous and judgemental of everyone there.

    Let me reiterate this one more time: Throwing unfounded doubts onto queer people that differ from you is irresponsible. We are all part of the community in one way or another*, but acting like you have the right to ‘veto’ other peoples’ lived experiences simply because you have a place here is insulting. I’m trying to write this in a calm, fair way; Please, humble yourself. I’m happy to discuss my identities, my thoughts on gender and attraction, and so on! But if you do not have the same experiences as me - and you don’t know if you do when first addressing someone - treating every conversation as a debate is insulting and invalidating.

    I understand the protective instincts of those in queer communities. For many of us, queer spaces are a rare oasis of understanding, of forming relations and memories that otherwise may never have formed. But treating queer people of different experience like a threat perpetuates the same isolation, invalidation, and gatekeeping we all so desperately need an escape from. To be clear, this protective instinct is wonderful for keeping our communities safe, but immediately attacking people on one’s own assumption of a threat does not.

   Part of this behavior is identity policing. Now, I could go on all day about that topic. Policing the language others use for their identity is something I don’t agree with in virtually any circumstance, but here’s the big issue that sticks with me: Those who invalidate others based on their labels, so often equate the invalidation of the word with invalidation of the other person’s queerness.

  �� When someone’s identity is deemed too complicated, too strange, too vague, not only are their words considered null, so often their status as a LGBTQ+ person is as well. In this event, a person who thought they finally found their way to a community that understands them, a person who let their guard down, sharing some of the most personal and sensitive parts of themselves, is struck. And how can the effects of that be quantified?

    It’s terrifying how often I’ve seen this exact scenario play out, across the years, across websites and in-person spaces. It’s so commonplace, it’s almost become accepted, in a way. By the people who perpetuate the behavior, yes, but also the victims. Being hyper-aware of what you share and where you share (in terms of identity) is standardized, not just in a certain environment, but in the queer community as a whole*.

Focusing in, this pattern of discarding people is what really shakes me.

    The shunning is awful, especially when this behavior in particular is enacted by our own friends and neighbors, our peers. It’s not just about which labels are ‘valid’ or not to me anymore. It’s the fact that queer people, people who face bullying at school, harassment online, rejection from families, abuse in relationships, microaggressions in public, and laws against them in private, are being discarded from the community entirely.

    It’s the complete and easy abandonment of these people. And on some level, I don’t think I can take it anymore. I’m begging at this point. Don’t throw them out because their words are mixed up, or because their pronouns sound fake. They’re ‘baby gays’ too, and they have nowhere else to go.

#queerphobia #abuse mention #bullying mention #exorsexism mention #rejection tw #invalidation #infighting #discourse #ask to tag #negative #long post #im not tagging any relevant identities because this is a huge downer #taking a break bc i'm too heated now lmao /neg

[mininky]

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

Summary: Changkyun has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he’s determined to make you finally stop looking at him as your little brother’s best friend and see him as a man. This is a story of love, scheming, and hijinks with the help of Changkyun’s friend and a bad date known as the Hannibal.

Pairing: College student! Changkyun x Noona reader

Genre: Crack, fluff, romance, smut, slow burn

Word Count: 19.5K (I really outdid myself this time)

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, public sex

A/N: This is dedicated to @mzpandylu because I just love making you suffer with me over this brat.

   Changkyun has always been too smart for his own good. For as long as he can remember he's been able to weasel his way out of all possible consequences for his varying shenanigans. One might think that now, as an adult, he'd finally outgrown this. But honestly, Changkyun isn't sure if 'adult' is an apt description for him when he's still living in dorms and barely holding down a work-study job. He's honestly not sure how the lab hasn't caught on to the fact that he sometimes makes acid that he's turned a profit on occasionally. But that's neither here nor there. No the main reason why Changkyun doesn't feel like he's really an adult yet isn't because he's still in school, or because he isn't really living on his own yet. No the real reason why he doesn't feel like an adult is because you don't see him as one. A fact that perpetually insults and aggravates him.

   There are some facts he's just accepted, no matter how much it annoys him. He can admit now that his parents and you will always see him as a snot-nosed brat. The former he can accept easily, it's the latter that makes him feel the rage of a thousand suns. Not that suns have sentient feelings, but Changkyun's rather fond of the whimsical folly in such an absurd statement.

   For as long as Changkyun has known you he's been head-over-heels in love with you. You had this aura to you, and no matter how many times he's tried to pulverize his feelings for you to a bloody pulp they find a way to resurface and grow stronger with even more wide-spread roots. It's been this way for as long as he can remember really.

   He first met you when he really was just a snot-nosed punk. He was all of six years old, the new kid in town. You were ten, the cute next door neighbor who tolerated him due to your mutual voracious appetites in books but mostly because he became fast friends with your little brother, Hyungwon, who was a year older than him but in the same grade. There were a lot of things he learned about you that summer, most importantly he learned that you had mastered the armbar already and had no qualms with using it to get revenge on Hyungwon for saving over your Pokemon Yellow file.

   Three years later you got your period for the first time, a moment that Changkyun has seared into his brain because he continued pestering you about how tampons were used to which you threatened to shove your history textbook up his ass. Even then, he knew that you really would throw down and he never brought it up again.

   Flash forward to his thirteenth summer, this is the first time Changkyun would realize that he was in love with you. That it wasn't just that he thought you were cute or the epitome of cool. No no, this was the beginning stages of puppy love. Although, at this point in his life he was less concerned with his infatuation with his best friend's sister and what his budding feelings meant and was more concerned with the fact that he sprung boners just from hearing you laugh. To his credit, that's a very common problem at that age. Unfortunately for him...he still pops random boners from thinking about you. It didn't help that by this age, you at 17 years old, had already started blossoming into your body, something that would take many more years for the same to happen to him. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone, but he sometimes still jerks off to memories of you lounging around the pool that summer.

   When he was fourteen he finally started high school. It was the only year that he was able to attend with you, but that one year was magical. Thanks to your overprotective nature for your brother who would fall asleep standing up in between classes he saw you very often. You were also his ride to and from school. He had been shocked, and deeply offended, to find out that you weren't considered one of the cool kids at school. You stuck mostly to yourself, or to whatever book was closest to you. A sentiment that still relates to him. That year though you had somehow managed to get him access to his first ever party containing illegal substances.

   The party had been held at Wonho's house, a senior who was that dude. You know that dude, the one that everyone loved and either wanted to be him or wanted to bone him? Well, that was Wonho. Changkyun can still vividly recall wandering around aimlessly out of sheer boredom when he found you making out with a guy he was sure was bad news. Shownu. Shownu was already out of high school and living on his own. He could easily have picked Changkyun up by the collar and flung him to the opposite side of the room if he wanted to. But no, he was usually too busy boning you to acknowledge his competition.

   Changkyun was always quick to point out to everyone that would listen that he thought it was gross that a grown ass man was dating a high schooler. The problem with this logic, however, was that you had started dating him while you were both in high school. The other problem was that Shownu was an infuriatingly nice guy. It makes sense that Shownu would go on to be a firefighter while Changkyun was the guy you called if you wanted to find out how to breach a firewall or score an ounce or cheat your way through exams.

   Luckily for him, you would eventually see reason and breakup with Shownu. Unfortunately for Changkyun, the reasoning had nothing to do with some terrible heartbreak that he would fix for you and then the two of you would ride off into the sunset. Nor would the root cause be you one day waking up and realizing that your little brother's nerdy best friend was hot with his cracking pubescent voice and rampant acne problems. No, you would break up with Shownu because you were accepted at a university far away from your middle of buttfuck nowhere small town.

   This brings Changkyun back to the present. He had somehow landed in the same university that you were now an alumnus of. Hyungwon had barely scraped into it as well, a feat that no one has really been able to understand. (The truth is that Changkyun had helped him cheat his way into the school. But hey, that's what best friends are for, right?) He's been here for a little over two years now, and none the closer to finally getting into your panties. Not that he hasn't tried. Literally, everyone else knows that he would willingly give up an organ just to go on a date with you. Everyone, that is, except you.

   "(Y/N)'s inviting us over for dinner again tonight, you coming?" Hyungwon peers over his phone for a moment, cocking an eyebrow up at Changkyun before giving a sardonic laugh. "Who am I kidding, if you had the choice between winning a million dollars and just basking in my sister's presence you'd choose her. I'll never understand why."

   "Because she's hot." Hot isn't wholly accurate. It is but a mere fragment of you. Witty, intelligent, terrifyingly strong, adorable, sharp-tongued. But somehow, Changkyun has a feeling that his best friend wouldn't find this little 'crush' all that hilarious if he spewed all of that out on him right now. So he'll keep these thoughts to himself. Playing dumb isn't something Changkyun is fond of, but he is good at.

   "I'm going to tell her you said that."

   "Please, be my guest. We both know how it's going to end. She'll probably hit you so hard upside the head that you lose your few remaining brain cells and then say something like 'stop being a dumbass.'" Changkyun can't help but let out an exasperated sigh at the sound of Hyungwon's barking laughter.

   "Yeah, you're right. When are you ever going to confess?" Ah, that's the question. The greatest question currently revolving around their collectively shared brain cells. It's not from lack of trying, it's just that you stubbornly refuse to see him as anything other than your little brother's best friend. He hates the term friend zoned and is a firm believer that dudes who use it are boring pricks who just don't know how to say what they want. But Changkyun? Well, he's been banished to the brother realm, no matter how many times he's tried to rectify it.

   "I've tried. A million fucking times. You were there last week when I asked her to go to the movies with me and she was all 'you're just using me for concession stand money.' Or the time before that when I told her that her new dress would look better on the floor and she just socked me in the arm and told me it wasn't that ugly? Or how about the time-"

   "-Christ dude, I get it. You're making me all depressed over here and I need to get a nap in before we head out for dinner. And depressed naps are the least satisfying."

   "You literally just woke up from a nap."

   "Yeah, well, it was only my second nap of the day. We all know that I need a minimum of four to function. How do you think I got to be this handsome? Beauty sleep, my friend. You should think of trying it sometime. Maybe then your ugly mug will stop scaring away my sister." Before Changkyun can respond, Hyungwon is turning over and snoring.

   "...this isn't even your room. And that's my fucking bed you lazy jerk." For a moment Changkyun contemplates picking up his pillow and smothering his best friend with it. But he figures murdering your brother will most certainly cockblock himself for life. A fate that his mere existence might already be cursed to, but he refuses to give the world more reasons to stop his one-sided love from being reciprocated.

----------------

   He would like to lie and say he didn't fret many times over what to wear before seeing you for just a simple dinner. But the truth is rather obvious the moment you take a look at the floor of his dorm. He's sure his dormmate, Jooheon, won't be very pleased about this. At the same time, he's pretty sure he'll never piss Jooheon off as much as when he woke up in the middle of the night to find Changkyun screaming at his computer screen in nothing but his birthday suit. Apparently, most men aren't that comfortable seeing other dudes naked. Especially when they're volatility angry after losing a video game. Who would have guessed?

   On the trek over to your apartment, Changkyun did what he was best at; he got lost in his own head. Visions of you fluttered through his mind's eye. In this altered reality, Hyungwon was nowhere to be seen and certainly not snoring next to him in the passenger's seat. No, in this world you had invited just him to come up for an evening tryst. He pictured you answering in a long silk robe with lacey underwear peeking out where you had it loosely tied together. Just as he was about to enter your home in his vision he could hear your dulcet tones telling him-

   "Earth to Changkyun. Come in dork. Or don't, just stand out there smiling like an idiot for all I care. But I'm not waiting on you until the food gets cold." Changkyun blinked as he took in your visage, the real you not the fictionalized caricature in his head. There was no racy cheeky lace or silk in sight, instead, you were in a plain white t-shirt and yoga pants. The real kicker though was your face, your absurdly pretty face with a look plastered on that screamed 'stop testing my patience, dumbass.'

   "My bad I just got lost in thought I guess." He stares at you for a moment, praying that maybe if he looks at you at just the right angle for just long enough you'll finally notice that he's started bulking up, shedding what was left of his baby fat and then you'll jump into his arms in pure joy. Or lust. He isn't picky. Shit, he's too desperate to be picky at this point in his life.

   "Yeah, I kind of gathered that already. So...are you coming in or not? I made way too much spaghetti, so please grab a million bowls of it if you want." He walks slowly behind you as you speak, his eyes trying not to superglue themselves onto your backside. And oh what a magnificent backside it is. He could write sonnets about it. He's pretty sure that in high school he actually did. Note to self, be sure to burn any diaries containing incriminating evidence the next time I go home.

   When Changkyun rounds the corner of your hallway he sees that Hyungwon has already made himself at home, sprawled out on your couch with an absurdly large pile of pasta on the coffee table while he browses through Netflix. Typical. Changkyun pauses for a moment as he turns in the kitchen, watching with careful eyes as you fix your own plate before sticking a fork out at him.

   "Hey, you know how this works in my place. I'm not your mom, I'm not about to fix you a plate. So get to it buddy boy." There are a few facts in life that Changkyun has come to learn due to his infatuation for you. One, he's completely whipped for you and he's okay with that. Two, he's probably a glutton for punishment with a hardon for your trucker mouth and insults. But thirdly, and most importantly, underneath your tough hardened exterior, there's a heart of gold that's softer than Wonho's plushy pile even if you refuse to admit that to the public.

   "You got it, boss, I remember the rules. You only remind me every time I'm here." He tries and fails to fight a smile at the way you roll your eyes at him.

   "Was that sass I'm hearing? That better not be sass." You grumble as you pour on a disgusting amount of parmesan before joining Hyungwon on the couch, smacking his legs away when he tries to stretch them across you. The sight shouldn't be so heartwarming to Changkyun. But here he is, smiling like a doofus as he fixes himself a plate. Hyungwon, unfortunately, looks back with an evil grin slapped onto his face before he turns back around to face his sister. Changkyun knows that look all too well. Hyungwon is about to meddle. That's the last thing Changkyun needs. Not when things are going so well. Okay, they aren't going at all but not going at all is still better than you karate chopping his throat before telling him that you see him as just another little brother.

   "So, noona, I hear you've got a date tomorrow." Deep breaths Changkyun, don't let this get to you he's probably lying.

   "What's it to you? I feel like you want something out of this. You're up to something, brat. I can sense it." Fuck, that's a yes. You're redirecting it onto Hyungwon because he's right. Changkyun's known you long enough to know your tell. He's grown used to you dating, but for some reason he's even more unhappy than normal at hearing this news.

   "Can't a little brother just make sure his older sister isn't attracting some creeps?" Everyone in the room knows that Hyungown doesn't really care about that, he's a terrible liar and has a penchant for snooping when bored. It's a terrible combination to witness when it rolls out of control.

   "What'll you do about it? I'd have better luck with Changkyun protecting me than your frail ass. Shit, you could practically blow away with one strong gust of wind." Changkyun tries not to pout at this as he finally sits down, shoveling food into his mouth to stop himself from saying anything obvious or painfully lame. Like 'I'd protect you any day noona!' Yeah, no. He'd rather shoot himself than admit that to you. With how annoyed you look right now you'd probably shred his ass to pieces. A death that's honestly preferable to dying alone in his parent's basements with the feds looking for him. (He was voted most likely to have this happen to him in his senior year.)

   "First of all, rude. I mean you're right, but rude. Second of all, have you not seen Changkyun lately? He practically lives at the gym." Changkyun could fucking kiss Hyungwon he's so happy. It's only taken him over a decade to finally be a wingman. Changkyun glances over at you to see you squinting at him as if trying to size him up.

   "I guess." That's it?? You guess? Christ almighty he really is going to die alone. "Anyway, that's beside the point. You have nothing to worry about, I can handle myself just fine thank you very much. And don't think that trying to bring up my love life will get me off your ass on your grades. Are you still failing your math class?"

   "I'm passing." Barely. He's at a solid seventy. For now. But Chankgyun isn't about to rat him out, not when he finally tried to help. "Why don't you ever ask Changkyun about his grades? Get on his ass too!" Aaaaaand the wingman has left the building.

   "That's because I know Changkyun keeps up with his studies, unlike you." He watches a sibling's quarrel break out for the next few minutes before he finally decides to speak up.

   "So, noona...who is this guy?"

   "Nobody you know. And for now, I'd like to keep it that way. Not that you brats would understand, but I'm going through a dry spell and I'd like to finally get to an oasis."

   "Gross." Hyungwon fake gags, trying to scramble away when you smack him upside his head. "Ow, ow, stop stop! And hey, ow ow ow that's my hair, Changkyun can relate!" That seems to stop your attacks for a moment, your eyes narrowing on Changkyun as if trying to sniff out the truth.

   "You guys are in your college heydays, shouldn't you be getting laid all the time? And aside from that whatever happened to that girl? What was her name, Jessica? No Samantha? No wait..."

   "Apple. Her name was Apple." Hyungwon pipes in to save his sister from going down the list of conquests in the last few years. Listen, Changkyun was in love with you. That doesn't mean he didn't still make it a point to get laid sometimes. It's not like he's actually in a relationship with you. Unfortunately.

   "Christ I was way off. Anyway, yeah whatever happened to her? Did you guys break up?"

   Changkyun tries to shrug it off, but before he can answer Hyungwon is interjecting. "They were more like casual friends with benefits. Until she finally let him turn on the light one night."

   "She didn't let you bone with the lights on?" You whip around to question him, but once again Hyungwon steals the light.

   "Nope, anyway so he turns on the light and goes down on her and he says that he saw an-"

   "Okay, time to cut this off. I swore you to secrecy asshole, imagine how you'd feel if some chick was spilling to her friends about your junk?"

   "Wait, wait. What was wrong with her junk?"

   "Catch this, she had like, an elephant trunk for a clit. It was just long flaps of skin like a second labia attached there. He tried googling pictures to find anything like it, but nothing."

   "Holy shit, what did you do? Wait, wait no I don't want to know. I don't even want to think of you having sex, that's just gross." If Changkyun had any feelings left in him he's pretty sure he'd be hurt by that. But as it stands, he's grown numb to the hellhole that is this moment. He takes back everything he said earlier about Hyungwon, he wishes he had indeed smothered him to death with a pillow.

   "Gee, thanks, you two. Also, need I remind you Hyungwon, but making fun of people for things they can't control is mean."

   "Says the asshole who asked the poor girl 'what is that?'"

   "Is it possible that you just...don't know what a clit looks like?" Changkyun takes back all earlier statements on being numb because now he can feel annoyance and rage bubbling through his veins.

   "I know what a fucking clit looks like. It wasn't my first rodeo, okay." He tosses a pillow at Hyungwon when the screeching laughter becomes unbearable. Et tu, Brute? Et tu?

   "Okay, wait, I can't just hear elephant clit and walk away. I need more details." Changkyun sighs, caving into your puppy eyes like the sucker he is.

   "Okay, first of all, this never fucking leaves the room. I don't ever want to hear you guys bring this up to anyone else, it's not cool. It was just...giant. I'll summarise, she was taking steroids to try to keep up with the other gymnasts and there were some unexpected side effects."

   "Wait, steroids for gymnastics? Is that even allowed?" Changkyun just shrugs at your question, trying to mentally throw himself into a daydream where you don't question his sexual prowess or where Hyungwon doesn't bring up his worst sexual moment to date. "I have so many questions for her-" you throw up a hand at the glare Changkyun throws you, "-but I won't. Trust me, I wouldn't want some dude spilling the beans about me like that either. I feel like I have to go scrub myself clean from all this sin now."

   "Changkyun can join you-ow hey wait! I can't breathe!" It only takes you a fraction of a second to get Hyungwon in a chokehold and Changkyun just smirks at his misery. That little shit deserves it. He went from being the best wingman ever to the biggest fucking rat in just a few minutes. He probably should have expected that though.

---------------

   That night Changkyun tossed and turned, his brain swirling around too quickly to fall into a restful sleep. His thoughts kept returning to one particular moment with you years ago, shortly after he had entered high school. He had been "struggling" with his English class, and his parents had enlisted your help in tutoring him to get his C minus up to their expectation of straight A's again. It ended up being a win-win, as you were struggling a bit in your coding class and he was a young teenager who spent far too much time on his Myspace page, he was the perfect person to help.

    "Changkyun, you're overthinking this again. I need you to shut the fuck up for five seconds and listen to me: the essay topic is about why you think Victor created the monster. Not about Mary Shelly's fucked up relationships, stay on topic here." He watches you spin around in your computer chair a few times before throwing your pencil at his forehead. "Are you listening, dork?"

   He wasn't. It was really hard to pay attention to anything when you were looking at him like that. Plush lips. Soft thighs. Bra strap falling down on your left shoulder. You were a work of art aptly titled 'temptation.' "Yeah, I'm listening." He paused, rewinding his mental tape. Right, essay topic. Relationship. "They were kind of sort of lovers."

   "You aren't completely wrong, but the teacher is lame and will disagree unless you go hard on this idea. So why do you think that Frankenstein and his creation are lovers? Or at least, that there's a homoerotic subtext in their relationship?"

   "Well, Victor Frankenstein had to marry his, like, sister cousin right? But it's really obvious that he didn't love her, and not for the gross incest reasons but more because he wasn't into chicks. So he creates this monster, this absolutely hideous man in an effort to kill off his gay desires. Except it doesn't work. Because it feels like he and that one dude, Henry, are totally banging during the voyage. Frankenstein's creation is one big metaphor for his gay desires and that's why he refuses to name him and that's why he wants to kill him even though the monster has done nothing wrong really." Changkyun watches you light up, moving in closer and nodding along as he continues.

   "Exactly! You're a smart cookie, kid."

   "Don't call me kid. I'm not a kid, Noona." He wanted to scream when you rolled your eyes at him. He was fourteen, just four years younger than you. But in high school that made a world of difference, unfortunately for him.

   "You are a kid, twerp. Now back on topic, you have a clear thesis but you need to make sure your argument is strong. You need to back this up with as many quotes as you can. And all those weird relationships Mary Shelly had that you were talking about earlier? Well, use those too. Her life will help strengthen your argument. You need to stop looking at papers as these boring outlines that you just have to throw together. I want you to look at it like you're about to stand on stage and win an argument in front of the whole school. That's how you write a solid paper."

   Changkyun nodded quietly, still slightly offended that you had just called him a kid and a twerp just moments prior. "Hey, Noona? You're really good at this. Do you want to be, like, a lawyer or something?"

   "Ew, gross no. That sounds so stuffy and boring. No, I'm going to be a linguistic anthropologist. I read about it, and it sounds so cool. It's about studying language and cultures and stuff. You know the field is dominated by women? Isn't that, like, so rad?" You gave another spin in your chair before suddenly stopping and staring at him rather conspiratorially. "Words are really interesting. For instance, it's a fact that you're just a kid but you get really angry when I call you that. Why is that? Is it because you're placed in a category of submission and it's a reminder of your place on the hierarchy? Or is it because your teenage rebellion has started to kick in and it makes you resent authority figures?"

   "Isn't that basically the same question just reworded?" You cackle at his question but you don't answer him. He waits for you to finish laughing before speaking again. "Well, I think it's really cool that you want to do that. And I think you'll be great at it. Even if your theories are a bit half baked right now."

   "Thanks, Kkungie. I really appreciate that coming from you. You're like my number two supporter. Behind Shownu, of course." He realizes at that moment that he doesn't hate being called kid by you because of age hierarchies or whatever bullshit you just spewed. No, he hates being called kid by you because it's a glaring reminder that you're so out of reach. The ever unobtainable temptation. He vowed then that someday, he'd make sure you'd see him as a man.

-----------

   Changkyun was sick of cafeteria food and damn tired of making instant ramen in his dorm, so for a change of pace, he decided to meander away from the university and over to the nearest Mexican restaurant. It was a little more than he was comfortable with paying for tacos, but he figured that the salivation inducing pork belly would be worth it. He still had last night playing on repeat in his head, that look of complete and utter disgust on your face at the mere mention of Changkyun having sex. Okay, well to be fair it was actually a really gross subject. You just can't make elephant trunk shaped clits sexy. It's just not possible. Damn Hyungwon! If only he had kept his mouth running on about these sweet new abs. Maybe then you wouldn't have laughed your head off and told him that he didn't know what a clit is. He really wishes that he could have just said something cocky like, "I can prove to you that I do" but he knows that would have resulted in either an armbar or a chokehold.

   He's still ruminating in anger when he steps into the restaurant, waiting for the hostess to come around so he can pick up his to-go order he already placed. His eyes lazily scan over the restaurant until they stop on you. This time you're not in your usual home attire of couch-potato activewear. No, you've pulled out all the stops. Your hair is done to perfection, you have on a full face of meticulously applied makeup, and you're wearing a tight little black dress that hugs all your curves. Or at least the curves that he can see from your waist up in the booth. You don't spot him staring at you, thank god. His eyes quickly swivel to the back of the head of the guy sitting across from you.

   He can't see anything other than the back of his head, but he can tell something about this guy is off. Changkyun has known you long enough now that he can read your facial expressions like a book, and right now you're saying that you want to set yourself on fire so you can get out of the restaurant. Before he can make any rash decisions to rush over and play knight-in-shining-armor the hostess pops up in front of him.

   "Table for one?"

   "Oh, no, I'm just here to pick up my order to go. It's under Changkyun."

   "Okay, let me see if it's ready yet." He watches the hostess disappear before his eyes swivel right back to the booth. You seem to be making a break for it, running straight into the direction that he can only assume is the bathrooms. Or maybe you'll try to escape out of the fire exit. You do look desperate enough to try. He's about to make his way towards where you disappeared to when the hostess makes her prompt return with a bag of food. He hastily grabs it, thanking her before immediately heading off towards your general direction. It doesn't take long before he finds himself in the hallway directly in front of the women's restroom with you nowhere in sight. He has a couple of options. He could either wait it out or he could walk away. But something in his gut tells him that he needs to wait for you, that for whatever reason either there are no windows for you to crawl out of or you're trying to give yourself a pep talk into braving out a clearly shitty date.

   Very little time passes before Changkyun finds out that he made the right decision. You're glued to your phone as you step out, almost walking right past him before he calls out to you. "You need some help?"

   He watches you jump back slightly, almost tripping in your high heels when you turn to face him. He's hoping that he looks cool, leaned up against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyebrow quirked. He's guessing that with your deer in headlights reaction that he probably looks more lecherous than cool, unfortunately. "Christ, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?"

   He waves his to-go bag for a second before nodding his head in the direction of your table. "You looked like you were praying that the earth would swallow you whole so you could get out of that bore-fest. Do you want some help?"

   "What do you mean help? I can take care of myself just fine." You sniff in indignation but you still haven't walked away just yet, and that tells Changkyun that your pride doesn't want to admit that he's right.

   "Listen, noona, you clearly don't want to continue that date. Tell me I'm wrong and I'll walk away. But tell me that you just need some help and I can weasel you out of the situation. You know I'm good for it." He tries to bite back a smile as you chew on your cheek while thinking over his offer.

   "Okay, so the dude creeps me out. There's just something off about this. I've met him a few times. He's a friend of a friend of a friend type of situation. We've talked a little bit after he hit me up on Instagram and he seemed pretty normal, right? But then we get here and he just keeps talking about my skin. About how much he loves my skin and how pretty it is and he keeps trying to hold my hand and like...rub my skin. It's fucking weird and I would rather be run over by a semi-truck than have to endure another one of his sweaty hand-holding moments. Just promise me this, you never speak about this to Hyungwon. I mean it. Boy's a fucking blabbermouth and I don't want to hear about this for the next ten years."

   "Deal." Changkyun sticks out his hand for the two of you to shake on it before he continues speaking. "I have a plan, just go back to the table and act like everything is fine. I'll be over in a minute."

   "If that motherfucker tries to hold my hand again before you get back I swear to god-"

   "I've got this. Just trust me already." He gives a couple of pats to your head before pointing back to your table. "Come on, go. I'm sure he's probably already convinced you're taking a massive shit or something."

   You scoff, muttering something about how he's such a brat as you finally wander back. Now it's time for him to set his quickly thought up plan in motion. He gives it a few moments, scrolling through Instagram before finally making his entrance. He imagines badass escape music playing in the background, visualizing himself as Jason Bourne or Tom Cruise or that dude from Prison Break. Except in this scenario, he's leading someone else to their freedom. A man on a mission. As he rounds the corner and nears your table he can see the villain. He's not ugly, but he's shooting way out of his league aiming for you. The dude's a solid five, plain and boring in every single aspect.

   "Did your mother age well? Because I can see skin like yours as aging flawlessly. It really is perfection. How often do you see an aesthetician if you don't mind me-"

   "(Y/N)? Is that you? Holy shit, it is you. Baby, I've missed you so much. I'm so sorry, I know I fucked up but I'd do anything to get you back. Anything, I mean it." He watches your eye twitch for a moment, a look of pure annoyance stealing over your features before you break out into impromptu theatrical genius.

   "Oh my god, Changkyun I...I never expected to see you here. I...I don't know what to say. It's been so long. I mean, the last time I saw you was when I went back home to see my parents and you were hooking up with Apple, the local juice stand girl whose parents oddly enough owned an orange grove. We don't even have the right climate for an apple orchard. She was the forbidden fruit and yet you took from her."

   "Yeah, well I guess Citron makes for a weirder girls name so they ended up deciding on Apple. But I swear baby, I'm done with that. I wish I had never met her. I'd give up my spleen just to try to make you smile again."

   "Excuse me, but we're in the middle of a date."

   "Oh really? I'm...I'm so sorry it's just that-" Changkyun slides into the booth next to you, grabbing your hand as he speaks, "-you see sir I've always been in love with this girl. Ever since the first time I saw her back on her daddy's ranch I just knew she was the one for me. The way she used to light up as she collected all those eggs-"

   "-Excuse me, but I believe I just said we're on a date. If you could please let go of her hand, you're tainting her perfect skin." Holy Christ, this dude's probably a serial killer. Changkyun is expecting him to break out into Hannibal Lecter quotes any moment now.

   "I'm...I'm sorry. I guess...I guess I can't take back what I've done. I was terrible to you, (Y/N). I'm so sorry. I wish I could get another chance, but I can see I'm not wanted here." Changkyun hangs his head sorrowfully, giving a small fake sob before flinging himself out of the booth. "But I promise you, I would treat you right. This city slicker boy don't know how to handle a girl like you-"

   "Okay that's enough buddy, move along."

   "Well excuse me, but I'm trying to have a meaningful last goodbye with the woman I love. Have you no heart, sir? I just...I just wanted to make my peace. Try one last time. Love is a beautiful thing and I know that I ruined it but gosh darn it how can I walk away from the best yodeler I've ever met?"

   "Nobody but my Daddy has ever thought my yodeling was any good. You really mean that Kkungie?" You stand up dramatically, clutching onto your chest as you try to move closer to Changkyun but your date quickly interjects.

   "Woah, woah, woah. I didn't sign up for this, come on man just let me finish my fucking date in peace. Go home, no one wants to hear your bullshit about orange or whatever her name was and her fucking yodeling."

   "Don't you badmouth my yodeling, Jason! It has a special place in my heart! Come on Changkyun, let's go." Changkyun grins when you grab his hand, but before he can turn around and ride off into the sunset with you he gets cold-cocked by your creepy skin loving date. Right in the jaw.

   "What the fuck dude?" Changkyun stands in between you and the guy, cracking his neck and rubbing at his already swelling jaw before staring him down. He's slightly taller but certainly lighter than Changkyun. "I'm going to give you a few seconds to walk away before I destroy your face to the point that even your own mother won't want to look at you."

   "Do you really think that you can take-" Changkyun doesn't wait for him to finish before punching him square in the face, a startling crack wringing through the air when his knuckles make contact with Jason's nose.

   "Okay, time to go. Let's move it." Changkyun wraps his hand back around you, trying to pull you forward only to find you stationary staring in shock at the scene that just unfolded. "Christ, we need to move it (Y/N)." He waits only a few more seconds before throwing you over his shoulder. "I am not waiting around for cops. I have an ounce on me and I really don't need that kind of stress in my life."

   He books it out of the restaurant as fast as he can, pushing past the confused hostess and ignoring the shouts of whatever his name was coming from behind him. Good god do you owe him now. His jaw smarts, his knuckles are bruised, and he's currently carrying you over his shoulder while trying to run to his car as fast as possible. If this doesn't prove that he loves you, he doesn't know what will. Especially when you consider that he left his fucking tacos at your booth. Well, this is just shaping up to be a fan-fucking-tastic evening.

   He throws open his car door, setting you down on the ground of the passenger side before quickly jogging back over and slamming into the driver's side. "Noona, what the fuck, come on! I don't have all goddamn day!" The sound of Changkyun screaming seems to break you out of your dazed trance, quickly fumbling into the seat and closing the door as he peels out of the parking lot.

   "Drive to my place first please."

   "That was the plan. Also, why are you saying please? This isn't a fucking uber dude."

   "Can't I be polite sometimes?" Changkyun just snorts at that, tapping his fingers on the wheel in impatience when he pulls up to a red light. "Hey, um. Thanks by the way. I mean, I feel there were smarter ways you could have gone about that than pulling the 'old flame' routine out of your ass but I really appreciate your help."

   "Yeah well, I'm not the one who came up with the fucking hick routine. I mean really, Apple? Forbidden fruit? What the fuck was with that?"

   "I kind of just wanted to see how you'd run with it. I wasn't expecting you to go full force with it. Now I'm going to have to retire my yodeling career before I could even start it."

   "It's a shame, I know your daddy was so proud of it."

   "Oh shut it, smart ass." He glances over to see you staring out the window, brain going a million miles a minute as usual. That's how you've always been, in a state of constant thought. He's pretty sure that beyond the immense sexual attraction he has to you the real reason why he always gets pulled into your gravitational force is that you're much like him in that sense. Always trying to see twenty steps ahead, find every possible angle and solution and rework a problem over and over until you see every single way it can all go wrong. It's that same exhaustive thinking that helped you to graduate early and top of your class not just with your bachelors but with your masters just a year after Changkyun started University. It's what makes you uniquely you, but also oddly relatable. You're one of the few people that can keep up with Changkyun, perhaps even remain a few steps ahead of him at all times.

   "You're clearly thinking about something. Do you want to talk about it?"

   "Why did you help me?"

   "Because you're my friend."

   "I mean, yeah. But you just got decked in the fucking face and went on a tirade about your love of my yodeling just to get me out of a shitty date." Changkyun parks in front of your apartment as you speak, a small silence settling over for a moment when he turns off the car.

   "Listen, I wasn't about to just leave you alone with Hannibal for him to cut off your skin and eat it like pork rinds, okay. Friends help friends." He's not entirely lying. He's not telling the whole truth either, but he's hoping it'll be enough to get you off his back. He can tell by the way the gears inside your head are grinding that it's not enough to satisfy you, but for whatever reason, you leave it be for the moment.

   "Well, come on." You climb out of the car, staring at him when he stays stationary. "Are you going to let me put ice on your jaw or not? Besides, you never did get a chance to eat those tacos, at least let me feed you. I think I've got some leftovers you can eat."

   "As long as you don't feed me ramen, I'm fine with that." He follows you quietly to the apartment. Should he have just finally admitted his unrequited love to you then in the car? Do you know and you were just waiting for him to say something? Or do you have an inkling, perhaps suspecting and you're trying to figure out what exactly is going on?

   "Dude, why do you always freeze at my door?" Changkyun blinks, realizing you've already unlocked the door and the look on your face says that the two of you have been standing there for a hot minute.

   "Lost in thought?"

   "What's new." You sigh, ushering him inside before locking the door back behind you again. He stands awkwardly in your kitchen as you rummage around in the freezer before finally pulling out a bag of peas and walking back over to him. "This is going to be cold."

   "Gee, really? I thought it would be scorching hot, having just come out of the freezer and all."

   "Can it, mister. This is my house, which means that I'm the one that gets to be the sarcastic brat. Not you." He snorts in response, flinching slightly under the feeling of the cold bag pressing against his swollen skin. He tries his best to look straight ahead, away from your prying eyes. But try as he might, he's weak to your magnetic gaze. For a moment it's like the world stops, it's almost as though for the first time you're really seeing Changkyun. Not your brother's best friend. Not the snot-nosed brat next door. Not some questionable chemistry major. For once you're looking at him like the man he's become. He can see it in the spark in your eyes, hear it in the hitch of your breath, feel it in the way your hand shakes slightly while trying to hold up the bag of peas.

   And for the first time in his life, Changkyun feels his brain halt functioning. Everything becomes silent, frozen under your stare. As if there's nothing to think about, nothing to worry about. He almost wants to say something, do something. But he's terrified that if does the spell will break, he'll turn into a pumpkin, and you'll go right back to treating him like a little brother. But his eyes betray his decision to do nothing, and he knows you see his gaze flicker down to your lips before traveling back up to your eyes. You never do miss a beat, in fact, he's always questioned how in the fuck you've managed to remain oblivious to his infatuation with you for so long. Unless it's willful ignorance. It's the only thing that makes sense. Which is why he's even more confused by the sensation of your soft lips pressing onto his.

   It's feather light, over in an instant, but he chases after the sensation. One hand wraps into your hair to pull you back for more. You taste like cilantro and flour tortillas and steak, and maybe it's because he's really fucking hungry but he can't get enough. Of the way you taste, the way you feel, the way you sigh softly into his mouth when his free hand presses you closer to him, gripping onto your hips. He'd gladly be punched in the face a thousand times if the end result was you kissing away his wounds each time. Christ, he's dreamed of this moment for so long he was terrified that it wouldn't be that amazing in real life but it's even better. Way better.

   But good things never seem to last long for Changkyun anymore. Because when his dick springs to life you suddenly seem to come back to reality, pulling away with a look of utter confusion and shock. A look at stark odds with the dazed bliss he's sure is playing on his face.

   "This...I'm sorry I...I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what I was thinking. We really shouldn't, um I should. Yeah. I should get the food for you. Um, here just uh hold this to your jaw to stop the swelling. Do you want some ibuprofen or anything before you eat? Are you good? Maybe some water? I'm sure you're thirsty. I can't believe I didn't ask you earlier if you wanted some water."

   In all 14 years of knowing you, he's never once seen you in such a state. He really didn't see this twist coming. He expected you to want to do backflips with him or sing praises to the heavens and then maybe hopefully screw his brains out. Instead, you look horrified, confused, lost, and possibly sickened by what just transpired. Which is just as heartbreaking to him as it is infuriating. If there is a god, he's cruel and unjust. That much Changkyun is certain of right now.

   He watches you zip around the kitchen, flitting from thing to thing for the next few minutes before he finally speaks up. "Are you okay?"

   "Peachy, perfectly fine. Why wouldn't I be okay? It's not like I just made out with my little brother's best friend in my kitchen after he got punched in the face by my possible serial killer date." You top off your jibbering with a high pitched and short-lived laugh. As if to really bring it home to Changkyun that you've officially thrown yourself off the cliff and dived into insanity.

   "I mean...I'm kind of more than just your little brother's best friend. I am my own sentient entity separate from Hyungwon. We aren't like...fucking conjoined twins. And it's not like we're actually related. But yeah that dude did seem like he was going to skin you alive, so I won't argue there." You ignore him, rummaging around the fridge before aggressively slamming a leftover bowl of soup into the microwave. Well, this is just going swimmingly. "(Y/N)...noona, come on. Just talk to me, please."

   "What do you want me to say Changkyun? I fucked up. We fucked up. And it's never going to happen again. I can't let it happen again. It's just...it's not right."

   "Why? Why isn't it right?"

   "Because it just isn't!" He watches you angrily ruffle your hair before spinning back around to face the microwave, your foot tapping away impatiently as the seconds slowly roll by.

   "Fine. Whatever. Listen, keep your dinner. I'll figure something out. I'll catch you some other time." He's out the door before you can respond. It's petty of him, he knows this. He knows he should have waited for you to respond, try to talk this out. Express his real feelings. Explain to you that he doesn't see this as just some random kiss. No, this was much much more for him. But he's angry, confused, and heartbroken so really he's pretty sure taking some time to cool off would be the smartest thing for him to do right now.

--------

   "Dude, what the fuck happened to your face?" It's moments like this that Changkyun really wishes he just had his own space. He actually really likes his dormmate, he's become fast friends with him which is rather unusual for Changkyun. But he just isn't in the mood for any human beings right now.

   "Long story." Changkyun tosses the extra sandwich at Jooheon before flopping down on his bed. He really should have just gotten some tacos again, but somehow they seemed tainted. Worthless. Kind of like him.

   "Descriptive. Not at all cryptic." Changkyun rolls his eyes before glancing over at Jooheon. Maybe it would do some good to tell him. Unlike Hyungwon he won't fall asleep in the middle of explaining everything, although right now he's not sure he really wants to spill his heart out to someone who's going to pay attention.

   "You know (Y/N)?"

   "Hyungwon's sister? The chick you've been obsessed with your whole life? Yeah, you've only brought her up more than a thousand times. What about her? She finally turn you down or something?"

   "How do you know that she didn't confess to being madly in love with me tonight?"

   "You might have the emotional range of a rock most of the time, but I'm pretty sure even you wouldn't be moody and depressed if she suddenly decided that she was into you. Besides, there's kind of that seriously swollen jaw of yours."

   "Fair enough."

   "So what happened?" Jooheon turns back around to resume typing up his paper as he speaks.

   "She kissed me." Changkyun can hear the typing halt almost immediately, silence filling the room for a moment before Jooheon responds.

   "She kissed you?" Jooheon repeats this slowly as if the words seem foreign or the concept impossible. Changkyun glares at Jooheon. Anger and humiliation bubbling up at the sound of complete and utter surprise in Jooheon's voice.

   "Yeah, and then she freaked the fuck out. Said that it was a mistake and she couldn't do this. Said that I was basically her little brother and it was wrong and some other shit."

   "And then she punched you in your face?"

   "What? No. Why would you think that?"

   "Oh, I don't know it might possibly have something to do with the giant bruise forming on your jaw."

   "Right. That. No that happened because I busted her out of a shitty date with some dude who wouldn't shut the fuck up about her skin."

   "Her skin?"

   "Yeah, he was a total basket case. I just happened to be there and noticed how she looked totally miserable so I helped bail her out. Except the dude wasn't too happy about it. Long story short, I got sucker punched. I think I broke his nose. We made a run for it. And then she kissed me when we were at her place and I'm pretty sure I'm doomed to the brother zone for the rest of my life."

   "Please for the love of god stop calling it the brother zone. It sounds creepy and very Alabama."

   "Fine. Whatever, she freaked out okay."

   "So what did you do?"

   "I left. What the fuck else was I supposed to do?"

   "I don't know. Tell her your feelings maybe?"

   "I didn't exactly want to spill my guts to her in a fit of rage."

   "Yeah...I guess I get that. So are you going to tell Hyungwon?"

   "Fuck no. And neither are you. Dude doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut. He's almost as bad as Minhyuk."

   "That's valid. Alright, I won't say anything. But if you need to talk to anybody, I'm here for you bro." If Changkyun had any capacity to feel his emotions left in him, he's pretty sure he'd be touched right now. As it stands though, he's just kind of hoping to wake up and realize that this was all just a shitty dream.

--------------

   It wasn't just a shitty dream. No, in some sick and twisted way he had you for just a fraction of a second before you're even further out of reach. It reminds him of a time that he was so close once before. It was about a year ago, towards the end of his Freshman year.

    You had just completed your capstone for your masters and you were holding a small celebration at your apartment with your closest friends. Once again, Changkyun had felt a bit like the odd kid out of the loop, straying away from human interaction in favor of sipping his cheap shitty beer in peace and quiet out on the patio. It's not that he didn't like parties, he just never knew how he was supposed to behave. Especially when he was around you. For some reason, he was perpetually nervous that he'd seem like the uncool dweeb who was your pity friend. You constantly told him that wasn't true whenever he'd bring it up but isn't that exactly what you'd tell someone who was only your friend because you felt bad for them?

   Hyungwon was convinced that Changkyun was on his man period, and while he'd tried to drag him back into the party a few times he'd clearly given up about an hour ago. That was perfectly fine with Changkyun. He'd had his own finals to contend with, and honestly, his brain was too fried to focus on a conversation for long. At least, he was sure of that until you stepped out onto the patio with two beers in your hand. You silently handed one to him before popping open the other and sipping from it. Somehow, you always knew how to find him. And he appreciated that you never chastised him for doing his own thing away from everyone else. "I know you hate coming to parties. But I really appreciate that you came. Don't tell anyone else, but I think you're my favorite guest here tonight."

   "I don't hate them. Hate's a strong word. Shouldn't you know that ms 'I'm about to get my masters in linguistics?'"

    "I can't believe it. That I'm finally here, that I've reached my goal. It feels like just yesterday you were helping me pack everything up to start university and pilfering my underwear. And now I'm getting my masters."

   "I didn't steal your underwear!" He knew that his bright red face gave away his lie. He totally stole a few pairs. But he isn't about to admit that. He knows it's...incredibly creepy. Crosses a lot of boundaries. But to be fair, these were clean pairs. He also would never in a million years do it again. He lacked impulse control then, but that doesn't save him from the burning embarrassment he's feeling now. Oh god. You probably think he's a closet perv.

   "It's fine. I thought it was funny. Don't worry, I never told anyone about it. If anyone else had done it, I would've been pissed. But for some reason, it's impossible to be mad at you. Maybe he was right."

   "Who was right? About what?" He hated when you got cryptic on him. At the same time, he loved that about you. The way you lived in a world of puzzles and riddles and sometimes cracked open for only certain people to see. It was as infuriating as it was attractive.

   You took a long pause before guzzling down the rest of your beer, staring off over the patio before speaking just above a whisper. "You know...in another life, maybe we would be great. Two fucked up peas in a pod." Before he could even respond you were gone, slipping back into the party and leaving him to dwell on the weight of your words. In another life? No. You'd be great together in this one. And now he wanted, more than ever before, to prove that to you. Because now he feels like he might really have a shot at this.

--------------

   It's been nearly two months since Changkyun last saw you. This is the longest he's gone without seeing your face with the exception of the three years he was in high school and you were in University if you don't count the weekly skype calls. At this point, he's run out of excuses and it's clear that Hyungwon is suspicious. He was given little choice but to either expose what happened to his best friend and be mocked for the rest of his existence, or finally go with him for Sunday brunch again. Which is how Changkyun finds himself standing in front of your door, fidgeting restlessly and trying not to imagine every doom and gloom possibility.

   Changkyun fights the urge to run away when you open the door, your mouth falling open in shock for a moment before you plaster on an uncomfortable smile and usher both of them in.

   "It's been a while Kkungie. What mayhem have you been up to?"

   "He's been an oddly good boy. A total square dweeb. I keep trying to get him to come hang out, but he's been doing nothing but studying." Hyungwon pipes up, grabbing a slice of quiche without asking before he meanders over to his usual spot on the couch.

   "You could learn something from him. There is more to life than sleep and girls."

   "Laaaaaame. I came here for free food and Netflix, and honestly, I am feeling so attacked right now."

   Changkyun shakes his head at the bickering, relaxing a bit as he grabs a plate. Everything seems like it's gone right back to normal. As if you didn't kiss him and then have an existential crisis just a couple of months ago. Changkyun isn't sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Then again, he wasn't really expecting for you to leap into his arms and throw yourself at him the moment you finally saw him again. Hoping for it, sure. Expecting it, not really. The odds of it were slim to none and Changkyun is, unfortunately, a realist through and through.

   The feeling of eyes on him has Changkyun glancing up, you look oddly unsure of yourself for a moment before quickly looking away. He swears that he sees a slight blush on your cheeks, but maybe that's just that stupid bit of hope in him that refuses to fucking die already. Life would be so much easier for him if he could just move on already. It would probably be easier for you too. But the heart wants what the heart wants, no matter how ridiculous or improbable it is.

   After that small moment, the rest of the time seems to pass by easily. Comfortably. Normally. He likes to think of himself as a master of deception at this point. A man completely in control of his own emotions. Because really all he wants to do is kiss you again. He didn't think that he'd be this obsessive with it, but seeing you again has his memories playing on a loop. How soft you were, how quickly you switched from hesitance to hunger before it all went downhill. Really fucking downhill. Straight into the ocean actually.

   "Shit, I forgot I have a date." Hyungwon's bizarre spike of energy has both you and Changkyun freezing.

   "With who? Your hand?" Changkyun tries, and fails, at not laughing at your jab to Hyungwon.

   "Rude, unlike you, I'm not having problems getting laid. If you must know, I have a date with Lisa. And I'm about to be really fucking late. Changkyun, can I borrow your keys?"

   "Just my keys? I would have figured that you'd want the car that comes with those keys too."

   "Har har jackass. Can I borrow your car or not?"

   "Why not just borrow mine?" You pipe up, nodding your head in the direction of your key ring resting on the kitchen counter.

   "Because the backseat of your car is always a mess of random clothes."

   "Okay, that's just gross. I didn't need that visual."

   "What? I didn't say anything gross." Hyungwon tries to play coy but the damage has been done.

   "You basically alluded to fucking your date in the back of a car to your sister."

   "Et tu, Brute? Et tu? Fine, just for that, need I remind you of the time you got caught sleeping with Rose in the park?" Changkyun rolls his eyes before digging his keys out of his pocket and tossing them to Hyungwon.

   "Thanks for just airing all my shit out. Again." Changkyun rolls his eyes before digging his keys out of his pocket and tossing them to Hyungwon. "You know the rules. If you're going to have sex in it, get it detailed before you bring it back."

   "Yeah, that's not going to happen. The detailing, that is. Later losers." Before either of them can respond he's out the door. He might usually move at a snail's pace, but when he wants to the lanky little shit can certainly move fast.

   "Does he do that a lot?"

   "Run his mouth? Yeah. Have you never met your brother?"

   "No, use your car for exhibitionism."

   "Way more often than I care to think about."

   "I'm never sitting in the backseat again."

   "It's a wise choice." An uncomfortable silence fills the air for a moment before he finally tries to speak up. "So-"

   "I was-" Both of you stop, and he fights a smile at the way you laugh. You've never had a particularly cute laugh. It's one of those cackle-snort-choke laughs that makes everyone else pause for a moment when they hear it. It's endearing. Heartwarming. God, he's missed even your ugly laugh. He's definitely whipped. "Sorry, you first."

   "I was just going to ask how you've been. If you're okay." Changkyun stares at the floor as he speaks, afraid to look you directly in the eyes.

   "What?"

   "Well, I just kind of dipped while you were in the middle of an existential crisis which wasn't cool of me. I'm sorry about that. And then I've been blowing things off because I figured you needed your space, but I want you to know that I have been concerned. I care about you, you know. So I'm sorry for running away. And I want to know, are you okay?"

   He watches you slowly blink when he finally glances up, the gears grinding a million miles a minute in your head before you finally speak again. "I've been...I've been okay. Confused. Unsure. Scared."

   "None of that sounds okay."

   You give a snort, shaking your head as you look at him. For a moment he swears he sees that fire again. That look that tells him that you're looking at him, looking into his soul. Figuring him out. Reading him. Wanting him. He likes that look far too much for his own good, especially because it's over in a flash. Almost imperceptible. He's sure that if he didn't know you as well as he does he wouldn't have even noticed it. He guesses he's not the only master of deception. "Listen, you weren't the only one that fucked up. I shouldn't have freaked out on you like that. I'm the adult, I shouldn't have taken it all out on you like that. I'm sorry for that."

   "We're both adults. Stop acting like your this old sage grandmother, you're only four fucking years older than me. I know that I'm a bit of an oddball, and I might not be like all the guys you date with their own places and a steady career, but I am an adult."

   "In the eyes of the law sure." That stung way more than it should have, and he knows that for a moment his mask breaks and you can see the pain flash in his eyes by the way you rush to fix your fuck up. "I'm sorry, that was rude. I just. I have a hard time seeing you as all grown up. The same way I have a hard time seeing Hyungwon as anything other than my stupid little brother who always stole my video games."

   "So what exactly do I need to do to make you see me as a man? Not some little boy, not your little brother's best friend. Just me."

   "I don't think I understand what you're asking."

   "Noona, you know exactly what I fucking mean. Do I need to spell it out? Because I will if that's what you want. I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember. And I know you might see it as just some dumb crush, but trust me. It's not. I want you, all of you. And I don't know what I need to do for you to finally see me as a worthy candidate for you, but whatever I need to do I will. We both know that I'm stubborn as hell, so if you don't tell me what I need to do don't think that I'll just give up."

   "I...what?" You stop, freezing under his stare for what feels like eons before you finally manage to speak again. "I don't know what to say. I don't know."

   "Well think about it. Because I'm not going to back down easily. Tell me that you don't want me, tell me that you aren't at all interested and I'll back off. But if there's even the slightest fucking chance that I can get you to finally see me for me and not just your little brother's best friend I'm not about to back down. I'm a patient man, I've waited this long to get you to even think about it. I have no problems with waiting longer if it means getting you at the end." He doesn't like to think of himself as a cocky man, and he knows that if you've ever paid a lick of attention to him in all these years you'll know he only speaks when he knows he can back it up. He watches you closely, trying to gauge your reaction but your face seems completely blank. He isn't sure if this is in his favor or against it. Whatever the case might be, he's finally said what he's needed to say.

   "I'm still not sure what to say. Or think. I had no clue that you felt that way."

   "We both know that's bullshit. You had to have known, you aren't that dense of a person."

   "That's a valid point. But I just assumed that...I don't know that you were just like every other dumb horny boy out there. I didn't think that there was anything deeper to it. I'm just...speechless. I can't give you any answers right now Changkyun, I'm sorry."

   "That's okay. I don't need answers right now. I told you, I'm a patient dude. Just do me a favor and think about it." He grabs the dishes left on the coffee table and brings them back to the kitchen, rinsing them off silently before throwing them in the dishwasher. He has no interest, truly, in doing the dishes to get brownie points. No the real reason why he's done this is because it gives him a prime and unobtrusive view of you. The way you sink slightly into confusion, cogs moving slowly as the calculations begin. This is good, this means that you're thinking about it. You aren't simply blowing him off as you usually would. Perhaps he does stand a chance.

   Changkyun watches you for a moment longer before clearing his throat. "Well, I appreciate the food. I'm going to head back now, I've got some papers I want to finish up." That's a lie, he's been caught up on everything for weeks now. Now that he hasn't been spending any time at your place or going to parties he's been working as far ahead as he can. He figures though that it's a simple enough of a lie that you'll believe him. Which is important, because he needs a way to give you some space without making things awkward.

   "How are you going to get back? Hyungwon took your car. Do you want me to drive you?"

   "Nah, it's no biggie. I can just skip going to the gym today and walk instead."

   "No, no I insist. Either we wait for my dipshit brother to come back or I'll drive you. But I don't feel right with making you walk."

   "It's two miles, I'll survive. I promise. On cardio days I usually run for five, trust me, I'll be okay." He watches you glare at him, your mouth opening and closing repeatedly before you finally sigh and nod.

   "Fine. You know you can really be stubborn when you want to."

   "I know. I go for what I want and I usually try to find a way to get it. You, for instance. That's at least the big picture goal."

   "What do you mean big picture goal?"

   "Jesus, Noona, I meant what I said earlier. I'm not just thinking about this as some one-off thing. I want you. Emotionally, sexually, hell I'll tack on spiritually for good measure. Everything about you drives me crazy, I want that in my life. I want you in my life. Not as a friend. Not simply as my childhood friend. I'm not sure what part about that is so difficult to understand, but I mean it. I'm not asking for you to jump into my arms or my bed right now, although I wouldn't turn it down either, I just want you to honestly think about it. Because for as long as I can remember I've been in love with you, and I don't want to pressure you into anything but I do want a shot at this. I don't want to just be passed off as 'oh it's just a cute crush.' Because that's not what this is." He pauses for a moment, assessing the way you squint and try to analyze everything. Ever the thinker, always trying to find logic even in the midst of a romantic confession. Or at least a passionate confession, Changkyun would like to think. "Just think about it. Thanks again for the breakfast, I'll catch you around." He waits for a moment before pressing his lips to your forehead and striding out the door. Well more like ran out the door, but in his head, he walked out with confidence and gusto and was most certainly not tripping over himself before victory dancing at that small peck.

   The only problem that Changkyun sees in all of this is that he's a man of carefully calculated planning, usually. Being a man of brute action just isn't his style. He wants to be sure that all pawns are in their places before a glorious victory. He's the type to always think five steps ahead. But something happened to him when you kissed him after he rescued you from the budding Hannibal. It rewired his brain, or maybe his dick because he's a bit foggy on everything. He's positive that this will help you finally look at him, but at the same time, he isn't one to be so brash. He's just hoping that perhaps this was still the right method needed. Whatever the case might be all he can do for now is try to craft some sort of a game plan to prove himself to you.

----------------------

   "So you finally confessed to her?" Jooheon is tossing snacks into Minhyuk's mouth as he asks this, Minhyuk almost choking when a pretzel gets nearly lodged in his throat.

   "Yup. She said she didn't know what to say. She really thought that I was just, I don't know, some annoying horny kid or something. Maybe? Or maybe she doesn't even want to acknowledge that I have a dick? It's really all hard to say right now."

   "Pun intended or??" Minhyuk ducks when Changkyun throws a pillow at his face. "Sorry, sorry. I get it you're all serious and whipped for this girl."

   "Woman. Have some respect."

   "Christ." Jooheon and Minhyuk speak at the same time. The double trouble twins back at it again. Changkyun should have known better than to tell them anything, but he needed comrades if he was going to carry anything through. And as much as he loves Hyungwon, he's pretty sure that he'll either sleep through his battle planning meetings or simply spend the entire time razzing him. Neither of which are very helpful.

   "Well, knowing you, you have a plan. So what is it?" Minhyuk sprawls out on his stomach, kicking his feet behind him as he blinks up at Changkyun.

   "I...I don't have one."

   "WHAT?" The double trouble twins really do excel at synchronization.

   "That's my problem, I didn't think any of this through. I kind of...I don't know I figured that my confession would have more of an impact maybe? I didn't expect a deer in headlights response, although I suppose I really should have taken that into consideration. It is the most logical of responses really. And I told her that I'd prove to her that I'm a man now. I don't know why I said that. The more I think about it the more...embarrassing the whole situation becomes. Christ guys what am I going to do?"

   "Defeat the Huns?" Minhyuk really isn't the most helpful person sometimes. But he does strike genius every once and a while. Especially when it comes to nefarious plottings. Unfortunately, now is clearly not one of those times. "Don't give me that look. I'm thinking. Okay well, has she seen your abs?"

   "Yes, I just flash them at random to people." Changkyun holds back the urge to roll his eyes as he deadpans his sarcasm. "Of course she hasn't you nit-wit. The need for her to see them has never really been there."

   "Oh, but you have no problem walking around here naked."

   "For fuck's sake Jooheon, you caught me one time and I promised never again. And it was in our room for god's sake, not out in fucking public. Let it go, man."

   "Back on track, I say you show her your abs. That should get her hot and bothered. Works for all the football players here at least." Minhyuk nods his head as he speaks as if agreeing with himself will somehow make Changkyun more likely to agree.

   "And how, pray tell, do I go about this in some semblance of normalcy?"

   "Pool party!" Jooheon pipes up, before stopping. "Wait...none of us have a pool."

   "But...she does. Her complex has a pool there, and summer is almost here."

   "Okay, so here's what you do. You drop random hints about girls in bikinis, lazing outside under the sun with hot girls around him, and eventually just casually ask him about the pool at (Y/N)'s complex. If you do this slowly enough, and we all drop hints randomly together, he'll think it's one hundred percent his idea and he should go for it. The real question is, will she?" Minhyuk is animated as he speaks, lighting up as the plan forms in his seedy little brain.

   "She would have rules and provisions for allowing it, but yeah she'd say yes to him. She pretends to acts all tough, but she rarely says no to him. The real question is though, how are showing my abs off really going to win her over?"

   "A bit of jealousy my friend. I know some girls who've been interested in you. We invite them, we watch them latch onto you like the harlots they so desperately want to be with you, and ignite the secret yearning in (Y/N)'s heart for this forbidden love." Minhyuk adds on an evil cackle at the end, stopping only when a cough takes over.

   "This seems all very...I don't know, cliche and high school if you ask me. I mean, no offense to your plan I just don't think that her seeing my abs and other chicks are going to make her magically say 'ah yes this is a man I can see myself seriously dating and possibly spending my life with.' I appreciate the effort though."

   "No, no Minhyuk has a point. And let's say it doesn't go as planned, at least we all get a pool party out of it. I promise if you're right and we're wrong we'll help you hatch a different plan of attack. But for now, let's at least see how this goes. On an unrelated note, I'm starving. Do you guys want to go grab some pizza?"

------------

   A month and a half later and Changkyun is sipping a beer from a plastic cup (no glass allowed near the pool as per lease terms and your strict warnings) as he takes in the sight before him. The first half of the plan went swimmingly (pun intended), but the latter half Changkyun still isn't so sure about. You barely even glanced at him before running back up to your apartment to grab some ice. Oh well, if it all goes to shit at least he gets to see you in a bikini again. He's been needing to update his internal spank bank material if he's honest. His sights still linger on your door, waiting for you to come back out when Hyungwon floats over to the edge where Changkyun has his feet dipped in.

   "Dude, what's the point of being at a pool party if you aren't even going to talk to babes or get in the pool?"

   "I'm enjoying my drink without dealing with the taste of chlorine mixing into it, and I'm not here for the babes." Changkyun is here for one babe, one babe currently avoiding him. Plan ABduction (named by Minhyuk) is so far failing spectacularly. What's the point of showing off his newer more manly physique if you aren't even here to ogle him like a magnificent slab of meat before ravaging him?

   "Now that's just not fair. Seulgi and Joy have been staring at you the entire time and you haven't even taken the hint. If you aren't going to get them then I will. You know they're in like an open relationship or whatever? I'm just saying, I feel like a threesome is on the tables with them. I've heard-"

   "Dude, they aren't just objects to be passed around. They're real human beings. I mean listen, if they're down then that's between you and them as three consenting adults. But you've been hanging out with way too many frat fuckers if you think that you can just talk about women as if they can be passed around to the highest bidder. Stop letting your dick talk, no one wants to hear it speak."

   "Woah, calm down you know I didn't...no I guess you're right. I didn't think about how that would come out. Maybe I should lay off the drinks. And the frat parties." Hyungwon floats in the other direction after that, leaving Changkyun to his solo bliss.

   It's a small party, per your rules. There are about 12 people total including Changkyun and you. Not surprisingly, Hyungwon invited mostly girls (who weren't friends with his currently off on again off again girlfriend Lisa), along with Jooheon and Minhyuk. Everyone else has been congregating by the more shallow end of the pool, drunkenly trying to play cards against humanity without getting the cards wet. He's pulled out of his thoughts by the sight of your feet dipping next to his.

   "I heard what you said to Hyungwon. Thanks for not letting his head get too far up his own ass. I don't think I give you enough credit for keeping him somewhat normal. Well, as normal as frog boy can be."

   "I don't think we can call him normal, I mean you can't even call me normal. I just try to keep him...safe for public consumption. He's just going through that college freedom insanity phase still. He'll get over it eventually."

   "Oh, I remember those days."

   "You? I can't see you as ever flying off the handles noona."

   "Oh but I did. You've got to remember, Hyungwon and I grew up in a pretty conservative home. My freshman year of college was a blur of parties, random hookups, and various substances smattered between cramming and making sure my grades didn't drop. Unlike Hyungwon, I made sure I was never on the verge of failing a class and having to explain that to my parents. I wanted to look like a model student to keep them off my asses. And it worked. Until I realized that I wasn't actually having fun and the parties and hookups felt empty and I started settling back down. I've got to say though, I didn't take you for the more level headed of the two. Hyungwon was always so uptight I figured you'd be the free spirit and he'd be the anchor."

   "I mean, I wouldn't say I'm entirely level headed, I just think things through more than him right now. Most of the time, that is." There's a pause after he looks at you. It's breathtaking, the way your profile glows under the setting sun, a small coy smile lighting up your face.

   "I have to ask, why aren't you talking to those girls? They've been stealing glances at you the entire time and they don't look all too pleased with me right now. They're pretty girls you know."

   "Sure, they're very pretty. But they aren't you. It's as simple as that." Changkyun watches a blush creep onto your cheeks as you quickly look away and clear your throat. Now that's a response he was hoping for but not expecting. Perhaps Minhyuk's plan hasn't entirely gone to shit.

   "Well, that was rather matter of fact of you."

   "You're cute when you blush."

   "I'm going to choke you if you don't stop."

   "I'm into that. I mean I usually prefer to be the one giving, but I think I'd be into anything with you." The look in your eyes threaten a possible painful death for him, but the way you've turned beet red tells him that his words affect you. That's got to be a good sign. Right?

   "You weren't kidding when you said you were stubborn and weren't going to give up. That I can tell. I think I'm just still iffy on the why. I mean, what exactly is it about me?"

   "There are too many reasons to count. I think I knew you were the one when you said that pokemon yellow was superior because it showed you the emotions of Pikachu but the pitfall of the game was that you couldn't see all of their emotions and it was limited to just Pikachu."

   "That's...absurd. How in the fuck do you even remember that?"

   "I don't know, but I can tell you that love is absolutely absurd and convoluted and I've stopped trying to fight it or understand it. For the longest time, I tried to get over you, mainly because everyone had decided that you and Shochu-"

   "-Shownu?"

   "Yeah, sure, him. Everyone figured the two of you were going to get married and pop out babies and be the town's most beautiful couple or whatever. The point is, I figured that I had lost my chance and it was time to tuck tail before even trying. But then you guys broke up. And then you moved away, and I thought well maybe now I'll get over it. Except, the funny thing or infuriating depending on how you look at it is I couldn't get you out of my fucking head. The way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you have to reason absolutely everything, but most importantly the way that you see five steps ahead almost every time and somehow you see things how I see them when no one else does. Except for probably right now guessing by the look on your face. Do you finally get that-" He's cut off by the sensation of your lips pressing firmly to his own. It's not like the first time you kissed him, where it started off unsure and soft, no this one radiates the confidence he's always admired in you. The take no prisoners attitude of yours. And boy oh boy if he isn't melting like a high school girl hearing a 'sup' from her crush.

   He can feel his soul depart from his body for just a moment before blood threatens to rush to his dick in a very public place with only a flimsy pair of swim trunks to shield him. As much as Changkyun would like to pull you closer and turn this into a makeout session, he's pretty sure that popping a boner is against your pool rules. So instead, he quickly pushes himself into the pool at around the same time he realizes the others are whistling and hollering while Hyungwon lets out a wail of sheer disgust. Oh well, you can't win them all.

   He almost expects you to run away again, but this time you're just smiling. As if all is well in this shit hole of a world and as if you're actually happy to kiss him. Oh my god, you really are happy that you kissed him. Sweet mother of fuck, he could die right now and he'd be okay with that. "Wow. That was...wow." He ignores the finally dying out enthusiasm around him, instead just trying to focus on taking in your visage.

   "Fantastic description, you really are such a wonderful poet."

   "Are you ever not sarcastic?"

   "Are you?"

   "That's valid." He pauses at the sound of your laughter, that familiar dying seel noise making his heart thud against his ribcage and sets a frenzy of butterflies loose in his gut. When you finally stop he can't help but ask, "So why did you kiss me? I mean, don't get me wrong it was a solid 10 out of 10, would most certainly do it again. But I mean...now I'm the one who's iffy."

   "Truth be told, I've been thinking about it a lot. Probably longer than you would think, as in before the first time I kissed you. You're not exactly bad looking if you haven't noticed. And while your personality is rather questionable it's questionable in all the right ways. Most of the time that is. But as you know, I'm a chronic overthinker. And I just figured I'd look like a cradle robber, or worse, a cougar on the prowl. I figured that you weren't super serious about it, and I'm just past that age of just fucking for the sake of fucking and I would especially never cross that weird boundary with someone I'm so close to. I know I say you're Hyungwon's friend because you are, but you're just as much my friend too. And that makes it kind of scary. A little too vulnerable for my normal liking, you know? But after your third confession, I realized that you couldn't still be trying this hard just to simply get in my pants. Third time's the charm I guess."

   "So where exactly does that place us now? I'll leave that one hundred percent in your court, but I'm not opposed to a shotgun wedding."

   "I'd have to be pregnant for it to be a shotgun wedding you absolute dork."

   "I'm not opposed to that. Just picture us, lots of little hellions running around as we have exhausted five-minute quickies during their short-lived naps. Living the dream."

   "That sounds absolutely terrible and I'm going to have to pass on that nightmare. I figured we could start off like normal human beings, you know, dating? As in actually going out and being boyfriend and girlfriend and not rushing into a Las Vegas wedding with fat Elvis as our officiate."

   "I'll agree, but I'd like to negotiate on fat Elvis at a later date please."

   "Deal."

   "Did you dorks just enter into like a dating contract or something?" Minhyuk swims over to them, trying to rapidly flee when you start splashing water at his face. "Woah, woah watch the money maker there miss. I am the mastermind behind all of this, I expect to be the best man!"

   "Ignore him, he's an idiot." Changkyun glares at Minhyuk before turning back to you. He kind of wants to squeal, he's that happy. He had never thought about the possibility of you having actually already liked him. You having a near panic attack after the first time you kissed him kind of killed all of those illusions of grandeur. "Noona, can I take you out on a date right now?"

   "And leave these dumbasses to burn down my apartment and get me evicted, ruin my nearly perfect credit score, and leave me homeless? I think not. How about tomorrow?"

   "Tonight?"

   "It's already six. God clearly did not bless you with patience as you've so boldly claimed to me before."

   "I'm not going to pretend to be patient when I have this opportunity right in front of me. So we'll tell them all to get their asses home at eight. Do you really want to stick around them for that much longer? I mean, they're already trashed." He watches you squint at the college kids splashing around, loudly giggling as incoherent babbles slur out of one person after the next.

   "You make a strong argument. Alright, fine. Eight o'clock it is. But you get to tell everyone that they have to wrap it up, I refuse to be the bearer of bad news to them."

   "OY FUCKERS!" Changkyun watches as almost everyone slowly glances over at him with glazed over eyes and alcohol-induced smiles. "You've gotta get your asses out of here by 8!"

   "FINE MOM." Jooheon hollers back before they all return to their still ongoing game of cards against humanity. He's pretty sure half of the deck has sunken to the bottom of the pool at this point.

   "Well, that was easy. As much as I'd love to stay for you to herd the flock back to safety later, I've got to go set up for our date. I'll pick you up." Before he pulls himself out of the pool, however, he makes sure to swim up to you and pull you in for another deep kiss. God, your lips just feel so right. So perfect. Like he's finally found his home and he never wants to leave. If he's honest he wants to do this date so quickly just to prove that all of this is real. He didn't expect you to respond to him in earnest so quickly, and now he feels both a sense of extreme exhilaration and joy coupled with looming anxiety that if he doesn't actually take you out on a date soon he'll wake up and find out that this was all an elaborate dream. Or worse, a prank.

------------------

   It's currently just a few minutes past eight and Changkyun is sitting uncomfortably straight on your couch as he waits for you to finish changing. He can't remember the last time he was this nervous for a date. Middle school dance perhaps? Shit, his palms are even sweaty now. He wipes them on his jeans and takes a moment to stare at his reflection. He doesn't look too shabby. The leather jacket, beanie, black t-shirt, and fitted ripped black skinnies are a classic look. You can't go wrong with that, right? Oh god, what if you wanted him to look classy? Does this look too much like a college kid? No...no this is fine. It kind of has to be, you've already seen him. You didn't comment much though. Shit.

   In the midst of his self deprecating anxiety riddled thoughts running rampant, he sees you step into the living room. You're wearing a simple white sundress and sandals, but there's something about it that drives those obnoxious butterflies wild in his stomach. Maybe it's just you. He swears you could wear a potato sack and he'd still think that you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It's not fair how little you have to do to captivate him while he's worried about simple things like if his t-shirt is too casual to impress you.

   "Are you ready to go? I'm surprised with how impatient you were to get on with this date that you weren't hollering at me to hurry up while I changed."

   "We have all the time in the world tonight. And I'm glad I didn't rush you because you look...stunning."

   "Well, I hope I'm dressed okay for whatever you have planned. You still aren't going to tell me where we're going are we?"

   "Now who's the impatient one?" Changkyun can't help but smile at the way you roll your eyes before linking hands with him. Christ, you're really going to be the death of him. He still can't believe this is happening. He might have been the one who rushed into this date, but his brain still can't wrap around the fact that you've now kissed him twice and asked him out. Over the moon doesn't even begin to describe his enthusiasm. "No, I'd rather not spoil the surprise."

----------

   It isn't long before Changkyun is pulling up to a secluded back entrance to a lake. You had once brought Hyungwon and him here during a summer visit the summer of your sophomore year. He was attacked by leeches and you had to rummage through your backpack for salt packets you pilfered at fast food places for no apparent reason. But for some reason, he felt that this just had to be the place to take you. That same day you had opened up to him about the gnawing loneliness that had occurred after leaving home, but how you refused to come back with your tail tucked between your legs to be another small town girl who just couldn't make it in a bigger city. It was the first time that you had ever confided in him, the first time that he had seen the infallible you seem so scared and lost. It had started a shift in your friendship, you had trusted in him at that moment with something you hadn't shared with anyone else.

   "I can't believe you actually remember this place. I feel I should warn you, I don't carry pilfered salt packets around with me anymore so taking a dip in the lake probably isn't the best idea."

   "Are you kidding me? I'd rather try to tame a wolf than enter that godforsaken water ever again."

   "Taming a wolf sounds badass."

   "See, you get it. Please, tell that to Hyungwon." In just a matter of seconds, he's getting out of the car and jogging around to open up your door before rummaging around in the backseat for his backpack. Unfortunately, or possibly fortunately for you, he doesn't have a kitchen to even try to make some sort of picnic evening meal from scratch. Instead, he's spent his time zipping around the grocery store for easy enough things like premade and overpriced salads, a bottle of grey goose (he'd rather not spend that much on alcohol, but he knows that you're a staunch advocate for top-shelf liquor), and a bottle of lemonade. He grabs the blanket from the back and leads the way to a small clearing before setting everything up.

   "I can't help but wonder how long you've had this date actually planned. This seems like a lot for something so last minute."

   "Does it? Well I mean, I guess I've kind of had this idea running around my head for a while. I kept hoping that you'd ask me to actually prove myself and take you out on a date and bam I could surprise you with a moonlit dinner by the lake that would be so beautiful and thoughtful you'd go 'oh Changkyun you're so sweet' and fall madly in love with me. But I'm not going to pretend I'm not ecstatic about the way how everything worked out in the end."

   He watches you take a sip of the drink he pours for you, the way you gaze at him so intently before slipping into a comfortable silence as you take in your surroundings. It isn't until he's handed you your salad that you finally speak up. "You know...this lake holds a very important memory for me." You take a long pause, glancing over at him before continuing. "God, how long ago was it that I took you guys here? Four years ago? No. Shit, it had to have been about six years ago now, almost seven. I was going through this really rough patch. When you're a kid you think you have everything all figured out and then life hits you repeatedly in the face until you realize that you actually don't know shit. But just like you, I'm a rather stubborn person. I tried so hard to look like I was doing well when you guys came out to visit me for summer, tried to pretend like I wasn't emotionally falling apart at the seams. But I knew you could see past that facade. You've always been eerily observant of those around you, even if it looks like you're completely oblivious. But you didn't say anything, you just played along with my act of complete happiness at being miles away from everything I've ever known. Isolated and struggling to find decent friends. Until we got to this lake, and you finally asked me why I looked so hollow when I smiled when I was in the middle of pouring salt on those disgusting leeches. You wouldn't let me play it off. You said that it wasn't healthy to keep it all bottled in and for the first time in a long time I came clean. And I realized something then. Not only were you wise beyond your years, but I had always relied on you more than I had realized. You were always around to listen to me bitch about boys and parties and my parents. You had always supported me when I said I wanted to get my masters in linguistic anthropology, a very obscure field that everyone figured would amount to nothing."

   You take another long pause, taking a few bites of food and sipping on your drink before looking straight at him. It's the look of analysis, that look that says you can see right through him and into his soul. Almost as if you've found a way to dive into someone's psyche and rummage around all of their thoughts. "It wasn't until a couple of years later that I understood the full weight of this realization. I figured you were just my closest friend. An ally in the midst of an internal battle, if you will. But then one night I was having an argument with Kihyun and I told him that he wasn't supportive the way you were. which is a really fucking weird thing to say to your boyfriend, you know? He was quick to point that out to me, and then he said that he didn't want to be my second choice. I think I fell in love with you at this lake, and I was just too arrogant to realize it. I'm sorry that I'm a bit of a mess. And that I keep kissing you without properly explaining or resolving things. I can't tell you how long I've wanted to tell you all of this. It feels nice to finally come clean. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I love you Changkyun. I love you for you. For all the weird things you do. For being there for me when no one else was. For just simply existing. For being my number one supporter. For working so hard all these years to keep up with me when really you've always been ahead in your own ways. I love the way you look at me, the way you make me feel like everything is good and pure and safe when I'm around you. I love that I can just be myself around you and how you don't hold back when you're around me. I love you."

   "Holy shit." He expects to hear another quip about his failure of eloquent words but instead, you just laugh. Never in a million years would he have guessed that his unrequited love had been reciprocated for so long. To be fair, the two of you have tangled yourselves in rather complicated webs. It would be nice if life could be so straight forward in a way that the two of you could have just said all of this years ago, but neither of you are the same people now as you were back then. You've both grown, changed. He knows that he would've felt too unsure of himself, that the relationship would have been doomed to failure had you actually been honest back then because he really was too young. A bit too inept to keep up with you, a bit too insecure to have been able to confidently be by your side. But now? Now all he can think of is how much he wants to grow with you, for you, for himself. But his brain isn't allowing him to just get the damn words out.

   After what feels like an eternity he finally manages to croak out, "I've been in love with you for so long that it's surreal hearing that you've felt the same way. I've dreamt of this moment you know? And I'm a little disappointed that a rainbow isn't shooting out of the night sky with a leprechaun showering us in gold because it feels like that damn magical. It just feels all...I don't know rather anticlimactic I guess, but I don't mean that in a bad way. Because this is real. It's not some romanticized fantasy. It feels natural and right and real, and holy shit do I really want to kiss you. Can I? Kiss you that is?"

   He watches the way you tilt your head back and laugh before pulling in closer to him, a smile on your lips as you cock an eyebrow up and say, "I think that sounds perfect right about now." That's all he needs to hear before he places one hand on the back of your head and drags you into a slow kiss.

   Every time he's kissed you it's been different. The first time was unsure, then heated, and then finally very cold. A microwave meal kiss seems an apt description to him. The second time, earlier today, that one was a declaration. It was bold. Firm. A statement. That you weren't holding back. That you wanted him. But this one is slower, more sensual. There's something lingering just underneath the surface, the sexual tension that's been building for years is trying to crash through the tidal waves of emotions. This time the two of you are confirming all the unsaid things. All the time it's taken to grow. All the time it's taken to reach this point where you could be honest. And happy. And in love. A budding love, sure. But it's mutual.

   It's when he slips his tongue into your mouth that the sexual tension finally breaks through. The soft groan from your throat reverberates through his body, lighting a hunger in him as his hands quickly pull you into his lap. You respond in kind, your hands quick to roam under his shirt and across the firm planes of his abs. Perhaps Minhyuk was right. Abs are indeed a golden ticket. Not that Changkyun will ever tell him that. His hands grip tightly at your hips as he places open-mouthed kisses along your neck before stopping at the top of your breasts before you pull back to take off your dress before tugging his shirt over his head.

   "I'm not usually a first date kind of gal. Not that there's a problem with that, but I have trust issues I guess. What I'm trying to say is I want you. I really want you, I don't care where we are or that this is really rushing into things, but so help me god if I don't fuck you soon Changkyun I might combust."

   "Spontaneous combustion is one of my favorite myths but I'd really rather not witness that before I get to finally feel you. Shit, I want to be inside you so bad. Do you know how many times I've jerked off to the thought of you?"

   "Many a tube sock ruined in high school, I can imagine. I pray that you did your own laundry."

   "Of course I did! God, there is no way in hell I'd make my poor mom go through that. Puberty is awkward enough without having to explain jizz stains to your mom." His hips thrust up instinctively when you palm his already prominent erection through his pants. Good god, he prays that he doesn't nut too fast.

   "Very true but you know what I'd like? For you to stop waxing poetic about the past and fuck me right now." He can feel all air leave his lungs when you pull him into another kiss before unzipping his pants and pulling his erection free. "If you want to, that is."

   "Noona, I really want to fuck you. I want to, holy shit, hear you scream my name. I want to watch you cum on my cock...fuck...probably more than I want to do anything else in life." He struggles with his words when he sees your fingers wrap around his dick and slowly pump him. The way you maintain eye contact with a coy smile only has his insides boiling over. Shit, he figured you'd be the type to take the lead but it's a whole other world experiencing it than fantasizing about it. It's almost like you've put him in a trance. As if the outside world doesn't matter right now. Who cares that his dick's right out there for the world to see in front of a public lake at night, or that the two of you have barely just confessed your love and should technically be enjoying this picnic he's put together when you're looking at him like that? Certainly not him. No, all that matters right now is that he wants to feel you. Taste you. Hear your moans. And the feeling is clearly very mutual.

   When you finally detract your hand to take your bra and underwear off he's both relieved and more excited than before. Holy shit, this is really happening. He's only temporarily dissatisfied that you undress so quickly, his thoughts quickly shifting when you straddle his lap and guide his hands to your core. You're already dripping wet, and even the softest flick of his thumb on your clit has you sighing contentedly into his neck. It's a bit difficult at this angle, but he's determined to hear those sighs turn into moans. He works one finger into you slowly, slipping in a second after a moment. When you arch your back and grind down he moves his thumb in slow circles around your swollen clit before speeding up at the sound of your quiet command, "faster."

   It isn't long before sighs turn into mewls and then turn into moans that you muffle in the crook of his neck. "Like that, fuck, right there." He can feel his dick twitch at the lack of attention, but he doesn't care. All he wants right now is to see you climax, feel you cum on his fingers. When you do he feels you tighten, hears you cry out a loud "fuck" into his shoulder before biting down. It's magical. Fuck the leprechaun, this is the real pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. He slows down when you go limp against him, breathing raggedly before smiling up at him with a dazed expression. Christ, he wants you. "Can I...can I fuck you now or...do you need a moment?"

   "I mean...I could give you some head if you want."

   "Yes, no, I mean. Yes, head sounds great, but no not right now. I'm about five minutes away from blowing my load, not going to lie."

   "I can work with that." You take a moment to adjust before gripping his dick in your hand. "Lay back, that'll make this easier."

   "Yes, ma'am." You roll your eyes when he salutes you, but you respond only by sinking onto him. You move so slowly he's afraid he'll die at this rate. It's as delicious as it is torturous, the way he feels you adjust and stretch around him as you slowly guide yourself further down his cock. He could die right now a happy man. He's had sex, but this. This is different. Better. It's fantastic, perfect, his own slice of heaven. And maybe that's why when you've taken all of him and moan softly before rolling his hips he blurts out, "I love you." Because he does. He loves you with every fiber of his being, and he doesn't want you to think that all he thinks about is sex. He sort of does, but that's not what this is about. This is more than that. this is more than sex even. It's not a random hookup, or a random girlfriend to pass the time with. No, this is you. And that makes everything different. Like he's floating on cloud nine. Like he's finally found the secret to life buried somewhere deep in your pussy.

   When you roll your hips again and position his hands over your breasts you pause to respond for a moment, "I love you too." It's simple, a matter of fact. And it brings emotions rolling into it. For a moment neither of you moves. The two of you just basking in the profundity in the realization that this means something more. That the two of you are finally more. Your lips come crashing down onto his, a hunger chasing at the two of you as his hips rut in tandem each time you roll.

   "Shit, shit, I'm not going to last long. I'm so sorry. I promise I'm normally not, fuck!" He stops functioning when your hands grip his balls.

   "It's okay, I already came earlier. Let go, Changkyun." It only takes you grinding down on him once, twice, three more times before he's spilling inside you. His orgasm hits him with a force he's not used to. A loud groan leaves him before he pants out your name, goosebumps rising up on his flesh as his hands move to quickly grip your hips closer to him.

   "Fuck, fuck. Holy fuck, Noona." He loves the way you laugh, squeezing around his rapidly softening dick before peppering kisses around his face. And even though he's limp and sliding out of you and smearing cum all over your thighs and his jeans neither of you care. The two of you just bask in soft stolen kisses, quiet declarations of love and adoration, and bouts of giggles. He isn't sure how long the two of you stay like that. It might have been just a few minutes or an hour. It's easy to lose track of time when he's with you. But when the two of you do finally break away to get dressed it's more because of the chill in the air than anything else. As you pack up your long forgotten salads he grabs your hand and pulls you into another kiss. He's always wanted to be able to do that. Just hold hands with you. Kiss you. Be by your side. In a way, somehow, that's even better than the fact that he finally got to sleep with you. But he's pretty sure that would sound lame so instead, he says, "Noona, I really love you. And I don't know where life is going to take us, but I do know I want it to be with you. I mean, I know that sounds dumb and serious considering that we technically only started dating, and I'm totally rushing into things but-"

   "Changkyun. It's okay. You don't sound dumb. I'm glad you're telling me all of this because I really love you too. And I'm really glad that I can finally say that. So please, stop thinking so damn much."

   "We both know that's never going to happen. We're both chronic overthinkers. But...I am really happy."

   "Good. We have a lot to talk about, and think about. But right now I'm freezing my ass off, so how about you spend the night with me and we can cuddle in my warm cozy bed and think about all the possibilities life has in store for us there?"

   "That sounds perfect. Hey, how soon do you think we should tell our parents?"

   "Oh my god, you complete and utter dork. Save it for the warm bed, please."

-------------------

   That night the two of you did, indeed, cuddle and wax philosophical for hours although that was sometime between showering and going for a round two. That day was the start of many moments with you. There were, of course, hiccups in it all, but it always ended up working out. He learns that love is constantly evolving and changing. The love that he held for you that night doesn't remain. It grows into something much more than any daydream could have ever seen for the two of you. Sometime's it's softer, especially on nights that the two of you lay in bed and just comfort each other after hard days. Sometimes it's a bit smug, like the time the two of you go home for Christmas and run into Shownu or the times you run into his previous flings. Sometimes it's a passionate frenzy. Sometime's it a bit haggard, especially on the nights that follow one particular passionate frenzy that results in your daughter who doesn't know how to sleep through the goddamn night until she's four. But the core concept that is love, the fact that the two of you want each other and want to face the world together? Well, that never changes. If anything, it grows stronger. Although, he still refused to admit even decades later that Minhyuk had a helping hand in sparking the moment that would start everything.

#changkyun fanfic #changkyun smut #changkyun fanfiction #monsta x fanfic #monsta x reader insert #changkyun reader insert #Monsta x fanfiction

[winterknight1087]

Flower from the Fae (ch 11)

Chapter Title:  Let's Talk About Virgil's Dates

Summary: Virgil likes plants, but when he goes to investigate a plant his friend, Remy, tells him about, he doesn’t exactly check out the plant. Little does he know that the handsome man he meets there is a fairy who is about to challenge the world Virgil knows.

Word Count: 1917

Chapter Warnings: cursing, Sympathetic Deceit, Sympathetic Remus, intrusion into another character’s memories

Chapter Pairings: Minor Sleep/Picani, Minor Demus

AO3 Link      My Writing

A/N: this is chapter 11, so read the first chapter here! 

“Hey, Remy,” Dee said, not bothering to knock on the other’s door, as he walked in. “We need to talk. It’s import… what are you doing?”

Remy didn’t look up from the mixture of herbs and sand they were working with. “What does it look like? I’m trying to make my sand more potent. What’s up with you, gurl?”

“The guys Vee’s been on about,” Dee answered.

That caught Remy’s attention. “What about them? Is Vee in trouble?”

Dee answered by pulling a picture up on his phone to show the other. “You could say that.”

Remy set aside the vial before they accepted the phone and looked over the image. It was three men talking at a table. To a normal person, there was nothing more to it. To Remy? They could see the magic hiding giant shimmering wings behind the three beings. They could see the small tendrils of magic leaking off of the three beings.

“Fairies,” Remy stated, looking up at Dee.

Dee nodded, uncomfortably. “And from what we overheard, Vee’s managed to get himself not three regular fairies. Recognize the middle one?”

Remy looked again, before blinking. “That’s Prince Roman. Virgil went on a date with the Prince of the Fae and his boyfriends. Damn it, Vee, how do you do these things you do! Before Virgil got there, did you hear anything about why they’re after Virgil?”

“No, the other two seemed to be fairly smitten with him. Once Vee arrived though, he did rat the prince out about fighting him. The prince went as far as to beg him not to tell what he confided in him. A slightly more important point is that they know his name.”

Remy ran a hand through their hair. “Wait, there isn’t a fairy circle in town though? It shouldn’t be possible for three fairies to go this far from a fairy circle.”

In response, Dee pulled a single mushroom from his pocket. “Apparently, there is. I didn’t stick around to investigate as Virgil was watching us, looking a bit angry. My guess is that there may be one that was paved over. Those damn mushrooms just resist death.”

Remy stared at the stupid mushroom. “Do you think they have him caught in any of their magic?”

Dee thought carefully before answering. “While they do know his name, I don’t think they’ve cast magic on him. The prince had actually begged Virgil not to talk about their meeting with the other two, which he wouldn’t have to do if he had Virgil trapped in their magic. Plus, Virgil isn’t even susceptible to your sleep sand, which is one of the most powerful kinds of magic.”

“I wouldn’t say that about this waste of sand. The stuff is useless on the two beings who actually need it in this town.” Remy glared at the sand they were working with. “What good is a sandman who can’t even get sleep for themselves?”

“Tell you what, you take the snakeskin, cold blood, and whatever else comes with being a shifter and I’ll take being the sleepless sandman. We’re not talking about our own issues; we’re discussing our best friend who has somehow gotten himself into the middle of Fae issues. If his dumb, oblivious ass hasn’t caught on to the fact you are a sandman and I’m a shapeshifter, he without a doubt hasn’t realized that he’s flirting with a bunch of fairies.”

“Please, bitch. I’ve been stressing over that idiot for years, even before I came to know of my abilities.” Remy sighed before pinching their eyes. “Alright, give me the rundown. We can try to figure out just how far in the hole Virgil has gotten himself.”

Dee explained everything to Remy. They started scribbling notes down, tracking just how far the fairies had tricked their friend. Yet, none of this helped ease their worry as there was just so little of the normal interactions between humans and the fae showing from Virgil and these three fairies. After a couple of hours of work, all they had to show were two papers of possible things that even Dee felt were a stretch.

Knock. Knock. “Howdy, y’all. Uh, VeeVee is here. He’s already spotted Remus, so knows that you are here as well, Dee. He wants to… talk with us.”

“Emile, real quick, come here,” Remy said.

Emile raised an eyebrow before entering the room. He didn’t like this room in the slightest, and Remy knew that. Magic, in general, made the poor doctor uncomfortable, but he loved his partner too much to hide from it. Emile could ignore the magic for Remy, he just couldn’t hide from it. Remy shut the door behind Emile, whispering a soft apology.

“Alright, did you tell him, Dee?”

“No.”

Emile looked between the two of them. “Tell me what?”

Dee sighed. “Virgil’s dates are fae, and the brown-haired one? He’s the prince.”

“But Virgil somehow has yet to learn of…” Emile waved at the sand on the table, “this.”

“And I think all of us would prefer that he stays in the dark about it, much like I would have preferred you to as well. We need to figure out just how much influence they have over him. You’re probably the best bet at getting him to talk.”

Unfortunately for them, Virgil was not happy and willing to go searching for them. He threw open the door, startling the three. He started chewing them out for not even warning him that they had decided to spy on his date. Remus appeared at some point, but he was silent and had his head lowered, probably having already gotten a bit of a lecture from the man. Any thought of them getting information out of the angry man was lost.

The only person not being (completely) scolded was Remy, unfortunately for them, that meant they were on Remus watch. Remy wanted to point out that this was a lot of anger for one date, but Virgil didn’t give them the chance. He reminded them, before Remy could say anything, that this was about the sixth or seventh date at least one of them have spied on (and possibly ruined for him).

After what Remy would have deemed 5ever, Virgil’s voice finally started to crack. With a soft but sincere apology, Emile managed to convince him to get a drink. Virgil followed Emile out of the room, leaving the other three. Dee waved at where the man had been exasperated. What was that!

“Considering it’s not too long since you showed up, I think he’s still quite a bit embarrassed?” Remy offered.

Dee rolled his eyes as he scribbled ‘angrier’ on their list of possible influences. “Sure, I’ll believe that once we get him out of those pests’ grasp.”

Remy sighed. “I’ll do my thing and see what I can find tonight. I don’t like digging through memories, especially memories of friends, but he’s never going to tell us.”

And that was how Remy found themselves creepily standing over their sleeping friend at four in the morning. Virgil isn’t even fully asleep! Remy noticed his phone still on, playing some video, which meant he fell asleep not too long ago.

What am I even doing! Remy wanted to scream, but they knew they needed to be sure that those fairies weren’t hurting their friend. Virgil was a skilled natural witch, but natural witches don’t need to know about the supernatural world to become skilled. They could happily live their lives in ignorance, thinking they were just naturally good at some skills. Remy didn’t want to cause their friend any more stress or worry about having to worry about some boogie man in the night…

Remy barely cut off a scream of frustration, realizing that this time, they were Virgil’s boogie man. They sighed before they locked the phone and plugged it in. They tucked the barely sleeping one in before carefully touching his forehead. They concentrated on only memories of the three fairies, not wanting to intrude more than they already were. After a moment, Remy was relieved to find that there was only one memory where they felt the touches of magic.

The prince had raised his hand at Virgil, telling him to begone. He then looked at his hand in shock. The magic didn’t work on Virgil. With that fact sitting in their brain, Remy let out a breath of relief. Even without a name, the prince should have been able to plant a simple thought into Virgil’s mind. That was basic magic, used to keep their perpetual existence as secret. If the Fae Prince couldn’t force Virgil into doing something with his magic, there wasn’t much of a chance the other two could.

As Remy pulled away, a different memory threw itself at them, demanding to be seen. The black-haired fairy was sitting next to Virgil as they watched some video. Remy heard a whisper about fairies from the phone. They looked at the fairy’s face and saw the disbelief on his face. Virgil commented something about a fairy fact from the video being ridiculous, whereas the sandman and the fairy in the memory knew the fact was true.

Good, he’s just as oblivious with them as he is with us.

“Remy? Wha-“ a sleep-muddled voice cut through Remy’s thoughts.

Panic ran through the sandman as they threw a handful of sand into the air, desperately hoping that it would make the sleeping one think it was still part of his dream. “Bitch, you are waking up. Stop that and come hang out with us! Remus is even an actual rat!”

“Mhhm?” the half-asleep man hummed but he didn’t open his eyes and quickly fell back into the first stage of sleep, much to the sandman’s relief.

Time to get out of here!

Dee was pacing in his living room when the sandman appeared in a swirl of sand. “So? What did you find?”

“Magic doesn’t work on him. The prince was the only one to try, and he was just trying to get Vee to go away. Also, found out that even these fairies think he’s oblivious, which makes them relatable bitches in my book.”

“The idiot hasn’t even noticed his own abilities in herbal magic. What made you think he would recognize a couple of fairies?”

“The fact the Prince was in full fae mode?”

Dee groaned. “He really is oblivious. Anyways, what are we going to do about this situation?”

Remy slumped onto the couch, feeling their magic returning to them as people started to wake up. “Honestly? I’m not sure. From the sound of it, they are going out of their way to not show they are fae to him. Maybe we should just keep an eye on him?”

“I guess that’s the best we got…”

A loud crash shot through the house, cutting him off. Remy let out a breath, only to see a bright yellow snake on the carpet where Dee had been. They paused before just losing themselves to laughter. After the stress and worry of the past night, seeing Dee startled into shifting was apparently the funniest thing to the sandman.

Remus appeared, already apologizing about something but cut off seeing the coiled snake in his living room. He let out a squeal before grabbing Dee and curling up with the snake on the couch. The snake’s tongue poked out and touched the other’s cheek before cuddling in closer to his husband.

Next chapter

Taglist: @that-one-nb-kid, @hufflepuffxfox

#Flower from the Fae #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #tw cursing #tw intrustion into thoughts #Sage writes

[blahsome]

March 18 2020, yet another big milestone. 25 years. A quarter of a century. Is it a big deal or are numbers arbitrary and it’s the same amount of a deal as it ever has been? I can’t publish everything I’ve written down for this year without feeling guilty, but I also can’t step on no toes all the time. And now, I will also feel guilty posting this when there's a pandemic occurring, but, I am trapped at home with little to do other than edit and re-edit this writing to be suitable enough for the public. I started writing this on April 9, 2019, too early to start my 25th anniversary writing? I’ll guess not. So here it is, my yearly open letter to my mother with intermittent ramblings and poems about my experience moving though life as the person I am and my perceptions as a flawed but resilient female. It’s like if I put it out there, maybe I’ll somehow reach her and she will somehow let me know. Highs and lows, as usual. Just after 2 years off the sauce I had a bigger ‘aha moment’ than putting down any bottles, though one wouldn’t have happened without the other. I realized drinking wasn’t my real problem to begin with. It was people, and my desperate need for their acceptance and approval. My need to be recognized and valued instead of coddled and unconsciously kept in a box. My need to control the outcome of situations and stepping on toes in the process. After so long being alcohol free I came to see that I had to start living for me. In early June 2019 a dear friend turned me on to a book called CoDependent No More. In maybe a week’s time I absorbed every word, the narcissist in me was almost convinced that I’d written it myself, it resonated so deeply. The following week I started attending CoDA meetings. Now that so many of my grievances and ailments make sense, I only wish I’d known sooner that it was okay to live life with me as my number one priority. I didn’t know before that I didn’t have to feel responsible for other people’s actions or inactions, but my self worth had been dependent on it. I’m 95% sure my mother was CoDependent, and with that consideration, I’m able to understand her life choices better and therefore navigate my own with slightly better foresight. Wikipedia says “Codependency is a behavioral condition in a relationship where one person enables another person's addiction, poor mental health, immaturity, irresponsibility, or under-achievement. Among the core characteristics of codependency is an excessive reliance on other people for approval and a sense of identity.” Now, that’s just one definition. There are many charastics to pick and choose from, and let me tell you, us codependents (I can only speak for myself) can be picky and choosy. Some people define codependency as a disease because if it goes untreated it only gets worse. I’m trying to break a lifetime of habits. Hi, My name is Blossom and I’m CoDependent. Every Monday night I go to a meeting where a group of women gather and we all try to work on ourselves to let go of whatever unmanageable ailments are keeping us shackled. It’s humbling and it fills me with hope. It empowers me to continuously seek change and clarity. Codependency is a tough one to recover from, as you can’t quit people. Once I had a name for this problem, every love song sounded different and every frustration made sense. I became able to recognize crazy making and slow down and see that I didn’t have control and things had become unmanageable. In doing so, I was able to step back and make better decisions for myself and my life and that’s how this whole last year unfolded more in my favor than any year previous. I worked on detaching and I started living for myself. March is a hard month for me. I sometimes feel so undeserving of a skin to be settled in. I writhe around in my persistent and annual grief. I start getting anxious in February wondering how it will appear this year. This March is particularly hard. I moved into a house with strangers and rarely stay there. I’ve got no place of my own to grieve, and with COVID-19 amongst us, I don’t want to take up any more emotional space while the world is feeling its current devestations and fears. My hopes for 2019 were to have more highs than lows, make my amends and reconciliations, and to keep my head mostly above water. And that was mostly the case. My aunt told me shortly after my post last year that my mom had self imposed low self esteem (now I recognize this as codependency). Watching home videos of her I feel like I could see stress in her face and I think about what she wrote in her journal about worry making her face look funny and how she didn’t want anyone to feel as she did. Maybe because it was a different time she felt like she couldn’t talk about her anxieties and had to bottle them up. I’m thinking about all the time I’ve spent transfixed by being a motherless daughter and trying to figure out where I fit into the word. I’m thinking about how long I spent tending to my father's bent and dusty wings, thinking I’d needed to see one of my parents fly so that I could’ve learned how it’s done. I’m in some required college to career success class that’s making me question my path, as if stress wasn’t doing that already. I’m laying in bed wishing that I’d figured out sooner that my wings were fine regardless of anyone else’s. I wish you were here so I could tell you all about everything. And so you could do the same. And so we could share the load. I quit smoking finally. Now my only vice is other people’s problems and trying to fix them to no avail. The eternal heartbreak I mentioned in my last letter makes more sense now. And the boy who told me to turn off the lights on my birthday sent me a podcast that said something about only being able to be loved as much as you’re willing to be vulnerable. And I think we’re all scared to be completely honest about how shitty we are, so we just perpetuate the shittiness and stay closed and unloveable. Early August 2019- I’m off track as usual, probably malnourished, definitely exhausted. This morning I was crying, I thought I wouldn’t be able to pull it together and that my eyes would be red when I got to my first job of the day. I think I was mourning. Things are going to change so much. I won’t have any more free time. I have to restructure everything. Which I think is what I wanted, but what a learning curve. I still have desperate hopes of creating a camp for motherless daughters someday. And it has to be accessible to all. But lord knows how far off in the future it is. At this time my feet are seldom beneath me, I’m sprinting forwards and if I stop I will stumble. I have to figure out my shit first I guess, and I’m putting in the worrrk. Or trying to at least. At a CoDA meeting a woman was talking about learning how to wield her anger, a thought that made me tremble. I liked the sound of it, as I have so much, and if we could turn it into a power, a force for good...it’d be all over. But I’m stifled by it, embarrassed of it. When I cancel plans it's usually because I’m embarrassed about how angry I am over something out of my control, and I can’t come down. Everyone was relatable, everyone seemed to be making progress, even if at this time it looked like a breakdown. They told their stories and I cringed inwardly, thinking of what I would have done in their situation. The time for change is now, I’m shaking in my boots. Some poetry and prose: My broken heart painted my world red slandering your name ensuring I’m to be seen as a fool who sobs wolf My depressed history understands every bit of where you come from like we have the same veins My logical self tells me that’s your burden to bear but I do everything I can to fabricate your crutches and excuse your bad behavior - Codependent Cowgirl Uncharmable. You only want your ex cause you think that’s where you can be yourself, but really that’s where was born the version of yourself you hate the most. Here I am standing strong, aching for my newest weakness. You’re having none of it. If I unclench my jaw and take a deep breath Tears roll down my cheeks THIS is relaxing So I tense back up And jump back into my cortisol spiral There is too much to get done to spend even one second thinking about you Six Sundays have passed since I’ve seen you last Codependency writes all my prose and all my sonnets All my pros and wilted bluebonnets - Go hard or go home Or go hard and stay at home, for forever because you thought you and your home would be each other’s salvation because home was the only thing that ever willingly invited you to change it and was better for it. But home got too heavy and home wouldn’t change on its own. And all the changes you did accomplish didn’t prove your worth. Plagued by nostalgia and sentiment Chronic grief Frozen in grief, and just when I begin to thaw, the temperature drops again Perpetually stressed What if to lose a parent as a child, is to lose the present. Because then you are trapped dreading the uncertainty of the future and wondering about a past you never knew and will never know, theirs. - Fuckless nights I unwittingly dusted off my fiddle strings and played as best as I could but you were never pleased. I was always out of tune or just off beat. -- And so let us not demonize others for our perceived shadows they cast and have casted We can’t all be deciphering your eccentric and elaborate needs when you’re shouting CUNT at the tips of your fingers and claiming to empower women while you dig in your claws to another. Chicken soup wasn’t enough to cleanse your soul. -- I think about you every day Literally nothing happens And I’m reminded of you I wake up I think of you I want to punch a wall I till the dirt I think of you I go on a date I don’t like him I think of you I let myself get so fucked up over you My rose colored glasses are shattered but I’m still wearing them I can’t bring myself to say nothing but nothing I say gets through to you I was operating out of a place Of fear I felt threatened by any number of women I’d never met and will never meet. I saw a message on your phone It confirmed my suspicions You drunkenly tried to explain it away I wanted to believe you but I had already poured the concrete and I cart it with me everywhere Slowly I’m leaving little bits here and there Becoming lighter - This week I wrestled with my codependency, Manic and exhausted from my nervous system vibrating I spent countless hours elbows deep in the dirt trying to find the root of it all An unsolvable problem parallel with reality Hard work makes me stronger Even if I can’t kill all the weeds Progress over perfection What even is progress? fuck my life. I’m no fun at this time. The doors will rot in the yard, my gut tells me just like the others. It’s not even a metaphor, just a strong probability, and a waste. Oh my god the realizations just keep rolling in. For hoarders the drama triangle isn’t just for people, but objects too. The doors must’ve been playing victim, and he’s gone to rescue them. The only corner left for me is The Persecutor. - Back in the thick Texas air Drawn to tough love From best friends to boyfriends Can’t get enough of the push and pull I’m nothing like the others I’m so much more with so much less You make me nervous But I don’t have much to lose I want to roll over and kiss you on the mouth I want reciprocation I want you to push my face away Just to kiss me on the neck You always get me with a twist We are scared of each other Collective hurt Collectively hurt We are missing something and are unable to accept ourselves and each other as we are I don’t know how you can lie to me Or how I can stick around for it For all those times you smash it right I guess Second best to you kissing my neck Is when I’m out of sight but on your mind I don’t fit in to some plan you thought you had I break the mold I’m quiet and bold We are anxious, we are stepping on each other’s toes Bite your tongue For better or for worse Things stay the same But with time, and your tongue between your teeth Eggshells are everywhere, splintered into our feet Make it up as you go along Keep the gas on I’m filling the space between my eyes and my rose colored glasses with wool - Same as ever Tongue between my teeth Lighting up another 100 out of 10 You wonder if you know me But you don’t give yourself the opportunity I’m right behind you writing my words that my teeth won’t allow my tongue to speak Desperation is such a drain Self inflicted low self esteem A familial affliction Looking like a 10 Feeling like a dud That low self esteem has me trembling And today was a good day - With a bottle of booze as his gate keeper He’ll never let me in I’m flushed, way too in my head Thinking up scenarios to catch you with your hands red bloodied from tearing my heart out and probably hers, too. - When I first quit drinking I felt this temporary empowerment, like I always had my wits about me. I could do anything. And then my codependency cloud settled back in, my intuition slipped back out the window. Now it’s like I’m in the desert, with a paddle, which makes even less sense than being upstream without one. It takes so much energy for me to state my needs. I’ve lived much of my life being brushed off and I predict rejection of my needs and so I try to suppress them and be ok with things as they are, but I need more. When I’m cancelled on, or am not prioritized, I need to be provided with alternatives or I feel insignificant. Reminders of my stated needs feel like nagging. I need reassurance. It’s exhausting and disheartening. -It’s the little things like when I ask if you want to do something and you tell me what you’re doing instead, without offering any alternative. Or when you tell me nothing. And I have visceral feelings that to inquire is to overstep and overstepping leads to termination. When I’m doing better I don’t write as much. Pain is romanticized, joy is foreign to me and perceived as fleeting. I’m trying to flip that script. Going to CoDA helps me in this effort. It reminds me that there is space for me and it's ok for me to have needs and taking care of myself should be step one in all of my endeavors. It's ok to say no. I don’t owe anyone anything, and also no one owes me anything. I’m closer than ever before to becoming the butterfly out of the cocoon, though I'm still very far, and that's okay. Progress over perfection. Now wash your hands and stay safe. If not for you, then for your loved ones, or your friends friends loved ones.

[colorofmymindposts]

The Deviance of Two English Gentlemen Chapter Two

Chapter Title: The Vagrant Doctor 

Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie films)/Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mary Morstan/John Watson Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mary Morstan  Rating: Teen and Up  Status: Incomplete, chapters are posted weekly Word Count: 1253 for this chapter, 2775 for the entire work thus far Summary: Set post Game of Shadows. When Sherlock Holmes is given a case by none other than Mrs. Watson, he has no idea that he cannot fix the unsolvable for the couple. Intimate truths are exposed in the process, leaving all three irrevocably changed. Tags: Case Fic, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Secrets, Bickering  Notes: The entire work can be read here on ao3. You can also read chapter one here. Note that this is not Brit-picked, but I tried my best. 

Story: 

There was really no worse place to wake up than a prison yard with no cheque book and no idea how you got there, Watson was realizing very quickly. He’d woken up with a massive ache pounding in his head, the leftovers of a ruthless night of drinking and deserved hangover. Among the ruffians in the yard, he was the only one with a vest on his person, and yet somehow the whereabouts of his shoes remained evasive to him. They were the nice leather ones Mary had gotten him that past Christmas, so he’d made quite a fuss with no supplied answer from any of the other lads before quitting altogether when the guard threatened to shut him up through any means necessary.

He hadn’t told Mary where he was going when he left, he hardly knew himself. Just away, out of that suffocating house, the bleakness of a life without macabre, a lure he could never entirely resist much as he tried to convince himself (and those around him) otherwise. However, life with Mary had been content up until that day. Until she had ventured the subject he’d never even spared a thought, and the idea of perpetual domesticity came crashing down around them.

His musings were interrupted by the distracting rattling of the gate, slightly ringing in his ears, and the man who stepped through them pompously, as though he’d never been a tenant of this den of din. He extended his hand to Watson to take.

“Come, old boy,” Holmes murmured, gazing at him up and down with his unique, characteristic analyzing look. Surely gears were whirring behind those brown orbs, tallying any number of observations.

Wordlessly, Watson accepted the proffered hand, and they walked out of the prison yard together hand in hand. When Watson caught the prison guard looking at the pair of them, he snatched his hand away from Holmes defensively. An imperceptible look passed over his friend’s face, and then it was gone.

“Your cheque book,” Holmes said as he withdrew it from his pocket without looking at Watson. “I was fortunate enough not only to trace your footsteps from your tour of London’s finer spirits but to find this in the good-willing care of a bartender at The Lamb and Flag.”

“Thank you.”

Watson pulled it deftly from Holmes’ fingers and only just began to search for a pen in his pockets when Holmes waved a hand dismissively.

“No need, I’ve paid your bail.”

Watson stuttered over his words. “Holmes, I appreciate all you have done, but you needn’t have—”

“But I have, so we needn’t have a row over it, Watson,” Holmes scoffed as he walked away at a steady pace.

By the time Watson caught up with his friend as best he could in just his socks, Holmes was already flagging down a hansom. It was unclear whether or not he was invited to join, especially when Holmes was in a mood like this. The carriage pulled up to the side of the road, and his friend sharply opened the door and swept inside while Watson stood on the kerb. He was fixed to shut the door for Holmes, but before he could Holmes took his hand and pulled him in, shutting the door after him.

Holmes barked out to the driver, “221 Baker Street.”

The driver gave a noise of assent, and they began to drive along the busy, bustling roads of London in the midday.

“How did you know where I was?” Watson asked after a silence had settled too uncomfortably.

“You would like my whole train of deductive reasoning? It was all quite simple,” Holmes replied somewhat facetiously.

Watson sighed in a way that could only be described as exasperated fondness. “I more meant how did you know I’d been...out.”

His friend’s lips quirked upwards in a smirk, meaning Holmes was pleased at knowing something Watson didn’t. “My client informed me.”

His own voice turned incredulous. “Your client?”

“Yes. Mrs. Watson. Or perhaps is it to be Miss Marston formerly known as Mrs. Watson?”

Watson leveled him enough of a glare that even Holmes had the decency to look admonished.

“I…”

A sigh escaped him as he held his head in hands, not even glancing over at the other man. “What, Holmes?”

“I know—in the past, I disapproved of yours and Mary’s union—”

“If you’re going to gloat, I’m getting out right now.���

“I was the best man at your wedding, and you think I’m gloating?” Holmes snapped back, genuinely sounding insulted. “Marriages and partnerships cannot be successful without bumps along the way. Perhaps this row you and your wife have had can only lead to greater stability in your future.”

Perhaps it was the desperation of the situation for himself or that despite the utter frivolity of the matter, Sherlock Holmes still deemed it worthy of his attentions and care, but Watson found himself laughing at his friend in the tight space of the hansom. He started to double over in his hysteria, his knees brushing Holmes’, but he was steadied by the other man straightaway.

“Watson, what has gotten into you?” Holmes asked in such a manner that it appeared he might be horrified at the spectacle in front of his eyes.

“Sherlock Holmes, caring about the success of my marriage. I never thought I’d see the day,” Watson managed to say as he withdrew his hands from his face, wanting to see Holmes’ reaction. “So what do you think happened? Or do you already know?”

Holmes sat very quietly on the seat across from him, surveying Watson as though he were a problem to solve, a subject to study under his microscope. The intensity of the gaze was almost too much to bear.

“I worry for you, Watson.”

The unexpected confession threw him off, sobering his mood immediately.

“Holmes—”

The carriage came to a stop, and Holmes rushed out just as swiftly as he had entered, paying the driver and stepping into the flat. Watson followed after him dutifully up the seventeen steps to the rooms they’d once shared. A mess as always, the flat never seemed to change no matter the different mad experiments Holmes conducted. Papers littered the entire floor of the sitting room, beakers and bottles dominated every table. A line was hung up the width of the room with various bits of stained scrap metal strung up like clothes on a laundry line.

Holmes cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, and Watson shifted his eyes from the rooms to the man himself. “Mrs. Hudson has finished airing out your old room, should you require it for tonight.”

“Thank you. If you don’t mind, I think I might turn in early.”

The walk to his former section of the flat was longer than he had remembered or perhaps it just felt that way. He went to lean on his cane, but upon realizing he’d left it at the house, he gripped the door handle for support instead. It might just break under the strain, he thought idly to himself.

“You should have come here last night,” Holmes said from the base of the stairs. In his hand was the missing cane, and at that moment he could find no explanation for why Holmes had it, only that of course he did.

Watson gratefully accepted the gift.

“I know,” he murmured.

After bidding goodnight to Holmes, he shut the door behind him and gracelessly fell on top of soft sheets curiously scented with pipe tobacco.

#holmes x watson #consulting husbands #sherlock holmes #john watson #rdj holmes #sherlock holmes movies #my writing #fanfiction

[lokispettigerr]

In The Flesh- Loki POV x Original Female Character (Part 1)

If you like this please please tap that reblog :) . It is huge encouragement.

*Not 100% set on POV in later parts

Part 2

Fic Summary: (Part 1- Loki’s POV) Loki tells of one of the visions the Tesseract cursed him with. In his vision he sees a woman confined and decides he will do anything in his power to help her.

Timeline: The Avengers movie

Word Count: 1,616

Warnings: Mention of Child abuse and some Violence

A/N: This fic is set during "The Avengers"

****If you would like to be on the general taglist OR the taglist for this fic please leave me an ask. I will make it happen and would be happy to do it!

I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose.

When I was a child, things weren’t easy– ever. In fact, they were very, very hard. There were always forces in opposition, pushing and pulling with hatred and obsessions. I was caught in the middle of it all, like the offspring of a spider made prey by its own parentage. However, the spider wasn’t my true parent. To Odin, our spider on the web, I was something vile, corrupt, without order; something chaotic that needed to be put in its place.

And so, as a child, young and blind to the incongruicies and discriminations of life, I accepted Odin’s treatment of me. Somehow, as a child used to a life of malice and ill will, you just believe there is nothing better out there—for it is what you have always known.

Can you perhaps, relate?

I truly believed, with burning conviction there was nothing better out there, in the nine realms. I suppose I wanted to so desperately feel that no matter the treatment I received, that it was fatherly, unconditional love in its purest form. That is, until I started to get a glimpse of the world and the blind was removed from my eyes like fetters falling from the wrongfully imprisoned. And much like the wrongfully imprisoned, the one that has been left to rot in a cell, away from all mankind, away from light, touch, sound, out of sight—when I was unintentionally and haphazardly released from the bonds that held me, I began to dream. And when I began to dream I began to court danger. That’s how it all starts isn’t it? Danger often times comes with dreams, perhaps they are cousins, or lovers, or both. Imaginably both, that must be why they give birth to fear. Fear being an all-consuming debilitating emotion, something I am all too familiar with. Something all too familiar with me. Try as I might, I like to think fear has no hold over me any more after all those years long ago when I was a child living in the shadow of the spider. However, this is comically wrong, for I encountered fear again when the Tesseract gave me a dream. But more on that later.

Now then, if I am not the offspring of the spider what am I? I am the child of hunger. The child of desire for something to fill a yawning emptiness so vast the void could consume the stars. I am the child of those people who starved, and in their starvation they became what appear to be monsters. They are called “Jotuns”, and are of Jotunheim. The Jotuns are the natural enemy of Asgard, at least as long as Odin ruled. For an enemy without, strengthens a ruler within. Thus if Jotuns are the enemy then I too am the enemy. In truth, my people are a harsh cold lot, brutal to the core. It is only ever bound to happen when the land they live yields nothing but perpetuating emptiness and desolation, something that only can birth bitterness. Think about that one a while—something that can only birth bitterness.

But now, perhaps, I am dancing around the question, “what am I?”. You see, one of my downfalls is that I like to withhold knowledge, something I may be able to use again at a later date when it better suits me. For now, I am fluid like water, but with much more bite, so let’s say like fire. Simply put, I am a monster. The monster that parents warn their children of at night. Of course because I have only ever yielded destruction, or so I have only ever been told. I am rage and chaos in the flesh—that is something you can trust—my rage.

In truth, I am whatever you want me to be, or even whatever you have need of me to be. Whoever you think I am, I will be—for you of course, and perhaps for a price.

My story however, will vary about as much as I do, it all depends on who you ask. In order for you to see me, there is something I need to show you. You can judge me how you wish from there; I have room for that.

I began rather benign I think. Not that anyone has ever asked my story, but through all the abuse I endured I think I started to lose myself.

There was a time, when I did commit unspeakable acts, but before I ever started on the precipice of that catastrophic journey, unspeakable acts were performed on me. It is not time however, for me to share these unspeakable acts with you—to unburden myself. I do however, have a name to give you, and perhaps you have heard of him. If so, then you know enough… Thanos. I endured torture at Thanos’ hands. For what? All to acquire a stone, but it wasn’t your average stone. The Tesseract was a glorious gateway between the realms. Unfortunately, her power could be used for the triumph of evil, and so it was. While she possessed unspeakable power she also came with her own burdens. She could enlighten, so to speak, the mind of the beholder. Have you ever heard the saying that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Well to her, to the Tesseract, the beholder is in the eye of beauty, really. She shows you what she wishes and you become her thrall—even gods are not immune to her. Her visions are a way for her to protect her secrets. To protect herself.

This is where I come in. I was made to go after the Tesseract and she showed me many things, dreams and worlds beyond measure, beyond even the understanding of a god.

Such an odd thing really, behold the stone and you see everything it wants you to see, vividly, breathing, beating, radiating, pulsating—and me, there in the middle of it. Another spider and another web. Well, her visions happen in an instant, much like falling down an intergalactic wormhole at the speed of light, or even the Bifrost.

The Tesseract, doing what she does, in a way to protect herself, showed me a vision she knew would break me, driving me into madness—of course, the only way to end the madness was to do as she bid.

In just a heart shattering moment, something that I wanted to last an eternity, or one of my life times, I saw a woman. A woman who very much was a girl. Interestingly, initially she could have been taken for a wounded bird—something broken and battered, bleeding her wounds too many to count. Perhaps trampled by too many Bilge-snipe.

I saw her chained in a harshly lit, glass cage. She was cowering naked in a corner, holding her legs to her breasts. Possibly in hopes to hold onto something to gain comfort and stability. Her head was down, wild hair cascading like liquid daggers all around her. I could hear her quiet, musical sobs. I pitied this poor creature, because something inside of her sent an echo of a memory penetrating through me. This little wounded bird was trapped in a spider’s web too– like I had been most of my childhood. My soul reached out to her wanting to free her from her confinement, and I took a steady stride towards her. She sensed my presence. Her mind caressed mine at that moment, and her head snapped up savagely. I froze in my tracks. She did not want me to come near her. I could feel her fear radiating from her, sending shell surging shocks throughout the air. I knew something then. I had been very much mistaken.

This creature was no wounded bird. She was a threat. She was a white tiger posing as a mortal, playing some deadly game. Her green eyes glowing with infinite hatred and something more. Hunger. There was only one place I had seen hunger that savage, it was the hunger my people possessed. This threatening girl, with her blood red lips and icy skin sensed me, even though I was not physically there with her. She continued to study my energy—I wondered what she sensed about me. While I wanted to move closer to her, I was unable to. I was trapped in snares she set for me. Our chains could have made for a matching set. I did what I could, and took as much of her in as possible. One thing was for certain, this tiger in mortal flesh was the most beautiful creature I have ever laid my eyes on.  Imaginably, one of the most dangerous too—someone that could come of some use to me later on. Yes, the Tesseract was good. It’s plan for me set. I am certain, if even I wanted to look away from her I would not have been able to. This tiger girl had snared me in more ways than one, and so had the Tesseract.

Without consent the vision was ripped from me, leaving me breathless, disoriented, and enraged, but not before I got a mental image of my surroundings—most notably, a steel plaque on the wall, back-lit with harsh fluorescent, casting a deformed shadow on the floor “S.H.I.E.L.D.” it said. And there, just outside of the girl’s prison, a dark-skinned man cloaked in shadow wearing a grim expression and an eye-patch. He studied her with the same intensity I had.

I had everything I needed. Somehow I would find her, no matter the cost.

I will upload the teaser for part 2 most likely within the next week.

Again, please reblog if you enjoyed. I would be forever grateful friends! I love feedback friends!

***I take requests, leave me an ask.

I have Venmo and Ko-fi

Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this! Peace friends!

General Taglist: @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77

#loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #imagine loki #loki #loki marvel #loki mcu #tom hiddleston loki #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfiction #loki x oc #loki odinson #loki laufeyson

[werevulvi]

Where I'm at in my detransition now, 9 months in, I've effectively gone through most of my grieving process. I feel a softly warming light within myself as I'm beginning to actually accept it. While I'm finally accepting that I now have to live life as a woman while I no longer looking like one, I'm more bothered by other people finding faults in how my appearance not matching my "gender" is something they seem to feel a need to fix.

I noticed that during my most recent appointment at the gender clinic a few days ago, I was actually defending me being a woman while also wanting to keep my facial hair, being fine with my deep voice and wanting new breasts, against the psychologist who thought I must be some kind of non-binary based on me wanting to have a mix of male and female physical features. I said no, I don't have to be non-binary because of that. I said I'm bio female and see myself as a woman which is the definition of "cis" thus I am "cis." And I stood my ground that what I want with my body does not define my gender. She seemed confused at how to diagnose my complicated case not fitting her world view. Not even she believed that I'm really a woman. I worry about that diagnosing outcome, considering my medical and legal detransition depends on it, but yeah. I still don't like being perceived as male based on my features that came about from my medical transition, but I like those features in and of themselves. The discomfort I feel when perceived as male due to those features is what I sum up as "social dysphoria" but that appears to be the only real discomfort I feel about most of them. And I don't wish to ever change my body based on others' opinions of it, especially not when I like most of my body as it is for myself. At the lack of physical dysphoria, I will not make a change. That means I'm essentially choosing to stay non-passing despite the pain of being consistently perceived as male and perpetually barred from female only spaces. I may just have to find other ways to deal with that pain. Like working on my confidence, and on my social skills, and every once in a while when I feel like I can, bite the bullet and use the men's spaces. People refusing to believe I'm a woman because they've simply decided that I'm a man does not make me a man, and it does not mean I'm doing anything wrong by not doing to what would make them believe that I'm a woman. It means they should take their bullshit elsewhere cause I've stopped listening the moment they've started arguing what is my bio sex.

I find it strange that it's being argued against that the reason I think I'm a woman is only because I'm bio female. And that the reason I like referring to myself as a woman is because I'm not dysphoric about being bio female. And it's still a female body that I have, no matter how much synthetic testosterone it's been infused with.

I do wish to keep my facial hair, no matter how "unwomanly" that might be of me, and even though I hate it socially. Because in private I really do love it. The few days' stubble I grow between shavings is very comforting for me, and I don't want that comfort taken away from me forever, just because I don't pass as a woman if seen with it. And even though the shaving process is so frustrating. Cause even despite that, and the skin issues that arise with it too, I can't help but see my ability to grow facial hair as a great gift that few women have.

With my hairline I seem to similarly be uncomfortable with it socially, although not to the point of hiding it, but privately... can't say I love it, but I'm indifferent about it. I can still grow hair on my head, which I'm really relieved by and happy about, but it doesn't grow in a typically female pattern anymore, and I doubt it ever will again. I mean, I could try some stuff, but then I never even get around to google it. I seem to be reluctant to it. Perhaps it's not an as big issue as I've been thinking of it as.

My voice does give me a little bit of discomfort on the phone and when hearing my moans during sex, but never in any other circumstances. During just regular talking, irl or with people I know on the phone, I don't even think about my voice being any different at all. If anything I just think about how much I like hearing it and that it sounds nice. The rest of my changes from T I'm fine with similarly as I am with my voice.

I still want to get new boobs however, cause my feelings and thoughts on that really have not changed at all. They've been consistent and constant all along. That's why I haven't added any new thoughts about it, cause I've not gotten any. Even though my grief about it is lesser now, I'm still sad about that I don't have my boobs anymore, and I still want them back just as much. And since it's possible to get a new pair, and because I know I wouldn't ever miss having a flat chest and I know I'd love my new boobs even if they turn out a little ugly, it feels very much like the right decision to opt for that reconstruction. Cause I'd love them for myself, and they'd be a comfort for me. Even if everyone else would frown at the sight of them, or go out of their ways to not touch them. Cause my future boobs are not for anyone else. Just like I won't get my facial hair removed just to please others. I mean, it's not exactly conventional to go for the look of both having boobs and a beard. It's a little gnc. It's a little unexpected. I only want to go with what I need for myself and my own comfort with my own body, even if it might seem totally crazy or incomprehensible to others, but not because it's shocking to others. Actually I hate that it is. Well, I can't quite fathom it either. But I've thought it could just be that why I don't want to reverse any of my changes from the T is because it's my history of transitioning, and I don't want my history erased.

It's for probably a very similar reason as to why I've never wanted my old self-harm scars removed either. Or why I've kept every single diary I've written since I was 8 years old. I'm sentimental, sometimes to a fault, but often it's because I'm holding onto something that actually brings me genuine comfort and that is actually of a very high emotional value to me. It's become a part of me, for better... and for worse. Because it helped me grow. That's why it's so valuable to me.

But about my top surgery: my brain seems to relate to it as kind of an amputation that I'm just not coping well with and I never really did. It's been 5 years and I'm still struggling to comprehend that my "new" flat chest is somehow a part of me. I know it is, but I can't emotionally connect to it. The gears won't fit. My mind rejects it like a foreign object. It doesn't feel natural. And since it's been so long, I can't realistically expect for that to ever change. So I've had a completely different experience with my chest compared to what I've had with my changes from T. That, I think, is a huge reason for my decisions about them, and why I have to treat them as very separate issues. I do feel whole with my changes from T, although different from how I was before, but I feel dismembered without my breasts. Dismembered is probably the most accurate word for how I constantly feel about my chest, and I hate that feeling.

#detransition #keep or reverse #grief #passing #dysphoria #top surgery regret #testosterone #ok to rb #gender therapist tried to force me to id as nb #im not nb

[neighbours-kid]

The Truth

I am tired.

I am so tired. So tired of trying to live a truth, my truth, while everything— everyone around me continues to believe the lies of perception, of “what has always been like this” without even questioning if they are still, or were ever, true.

I am so….so fucking exhausted.

I was watching this British show on Netflix about a murdered boy and with every new episode of characters lying to each other to save themselves some pain or to gain something for themselves, I got more and more restless. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

So I put on my jacket and my shoes and I went out, walking around in my neighbourhood, trying to breathe in the cold winter air and just….calming down. And I couldn’t.

I just…. I need to stop living in this perception everyone has of me. I can’t fucking go on like this anymore. On my walk I was so close to just….trying to punch my fist through a tree or a wall just so I could feel something else than this perpetual dread of exhaustion and living in these perceptions people have of me that are just not true.

I can’t do it anymore. I am done living in these lies. I want to live my truth and only my truth.

We lie all the time and I can’t do that anymore, not about something as important as my own life.

While I was on my walk, I thought about calling my mom and just telling her, because then at least somebody in my immediate family knows for sure. Even if it is the one person who I know pretty much for sure will not like my truth and will try to change my mind about it. It’s not her fault and I have hope that she will learn how to live with it as well, but if I know anything, I know that it will not fall on ears that like hearing it. But I thought, who cares, I just need somebody to know. Just somebody.

But then I thought what good is it to have the one person to know be one who will probably not support me. That’s just stupid.

I have wanted to tell my dad so, so, so many times. But thing about my dad is, I am not sure how he’d react. And I can’t lose him. I can’t. I already know my mom does not agree with this thing, but my dad? I have no idea. And I am afraid to find out. I am so afraid.

I thought about calling my brother. Because he is the only variable that I can’t….I don’t know anything, I have no clue how he’d react. But I know, if he even payed a little attention over the last years, he should know, or at least, he should not be surprised. I was *this* close to calling him, or at least leaving him a voice message. But I couldn’t.

I can’t just tell them. I can’t only tell them, because it won’t change any of the other situations. Everyone needs to know. Everyone. The lies of perception can only be shattered if there is no single believer left, and I need them to see what is true and what is not.

…

I have a few friends who know. Who know and have been supportive. Aside from them, I have no idea how any of the other people will react. Not a clue. And honestly, I am terrified.

But I am tired of letting my life be controlled by fear. I care deeply what those people will think, but I am gonna stop letting that keep me from being happy and living my truth out in the open.

It’s not fair, that I *have* to do this. It’s not fair that I have to tell people something that I have always known to be true, but just because I have finally learned the vocabulary to express it, people who have known me for most of my life now get to decide if they like this or not. It’s garbage.

But I just can’t go on like this anymore, I need to live this truth.

So here goes nothing.

…

When I went to see my doctor this past December, she immediately picked up on why I was there, without me really having to say a single word. I was not planning on telling her as much as I did, I only wanted to get a general check-up to see if I was healthy, and to get a referral to a psychiatrist so I could get my brain checked as well.

And then she asked me if I felt comfortable in my body.

And I said no.

I talked with her for a while, I explained my point of view, and she told me she would refer me to someone she knew. I am currently waiting for this person to get back to me so I can get an appointment.

For something over a year now, I have been binding my chest, because nothing has ever made me as comfortable in my body as having a flat chest.

My friends know that I have been exclusively shopping in the men’s section of clothing stores.

I have had short hair since sixth grade.

None of this actually matters, because that’s only aesthetics.

What matters is that I have never, not since I can remember, not as a small child, understood the concept of “male or female”. I have always thought of me and my brother as being the same. And I was asked numerous times over the last, at least, 16 years, by strangers and by people I met repeatedly, this one inane, stupid fucking question: “are you a boy or a girl?”

I will say this: I DON’T FUCKING CARE AND IT DOES NOT MATTER BECAUSE THE BINARY GENDER IS A SOCIETAL CONSTRUCT AND DOES NOT EXIST. Also, sex isn’t binary either, but I’m not gonna go into a biological discussion here, because this is about me, and not about how uneducated the world is about these things.

What matters is this: I have never felt comfortable being categorised as a woman or a girl. I don’t feel comfortable having boobs and I will have them removed/made more masculine at some point.

There are days on which I feel like throwing up whenever someone calls me girl, woman, she, her, daughter, sister or any other female thing. There are days on which I want to go scream in the woods for an hour because I feel trapped in this perception of myself that is not, has never, and will never be true.

On most days, I don’t identify with any side of the spectrum. That is what we call nonbinary. This word has been in my instagram and twitter bio and on this blog for a long time now. Some people have picked up on it and I am infinitely grateful for all of them. Some haven’t, and that’s okay.

The other thing that matters is this: I am trans. And I will explain this exactly once, and then you can go google this stuff yourself. Being trans, for me personally (the experience is different for every individual), means that I want to get Hormone Replacement Therapy and chest surgery, maybe more. Once I get my appointment with the psychiatrist, I will figure out with this person what is best for me, and I will hopefully be able to take testosterone in some form and become more of who I am, which means in my case, more masculine and less feminine.

What this DOES NOT mean, is that I want to be a man. Being trans does not negate the fact that I am nonbinary and that I do not identify with either side of the gender spectrum. I would say it is like this. If gender is a line with one end being female and the other end male, I am somewhere in the middle, but on the male side of it, and not the female.

What does this mean for YOU? Well, for one, please stop calling me woman/girl/female. Another thing that would be nice, is to just accept this. You don’t have to understand it, you don’t have to agree with it, you don’t have to like it or even support it. All you have to do is accept it and that’s all. And respect my choices, because this is my life and not yours.

For you religious/spiritual folks: No, I don’t want to hear your “BUT THE BIBLE SAYS” things. I know what the bible says, I know what my God says, and I know what I know and how I feel about it. I have been having this conversation with Yeshua for around six years now, and he has never once shown me anything but love and understanding and never once told me that this is not my way. I know what I’m doing, God knows what I’m doing, and that’s all that matters. If you try to give me your religious/spiritual insight on it and it is in any way negative towards my decision, I will shut you down, because I do not need or want to hear it. This goes for you too, Mom. Especially you.

I know this may be hard to understand, but I just can’t go on like this anymore. It will destroy me if I did. It’s already tearing me apart every single day, and I refuse to go on like this. I am tired.

A few more things:

You can still call me Andrea. I don’t mind that name. If you want, you can also call my Alex. I’ve been also called Adrian once, which I also don’t mind. Just don’t call my girl.

The pronoun thing, well, that’s difficult. In English, I do very much prefer they/them. In German, well, it’s not as easy. If you must use a pronoun, use Er/Ihm please. If anyhow possible, just don’t use pronouns. It’s possible! It might sound wrong at first, but if we want to change something in German grammar for people like me, we can’t just say “oh there is nothing we can do” and carry on how it is. We have to change things for the better.

I am open to talk more about this, because this post is just the necessary bit of it. If you would like to know more, don’t be shy. I will take the liberty to not answer certain questions though.

As for my sexuality, I still like men. If that makes me gay in your eyes, so be it. I prefer the term queer, but you know, everyone’s a bit gay, and it’s alright. (I have bible related opinions about this too, so, you know, can’t change my mind). I also think Cate Blanchett is incredibly attractive. That’s all I’m gonna say about that.

You know, when I started writing this, I was still restless and felt like I was suffocating. Now? I’m good. I’m at peace somehow. Shows how much I needed to do this, doesn’t it?

Anyway, that’s all for now from my side.

Be strong out there, people. Live your truths. I’m trying to do the same.

Onward, with pride.

#truth #nonbinary #trans #lgbtq #textpost #text post #coming out #ftm

[billy-batson]

an anon asked a while back if i could write an essay explaining why i hate karen and kastle and me, being me, saved it in my asks until i could further explain to full capacity. my response?

absolutely. i’ve had this ask in my inbox for quite a few weeks, since before the release of the punisher. in order for people to understand my view points and beliefs, we must take off any shipping goggles we might have and view it from a fairly objective view point. (i’ve also added my own gifs to this because eh, why not?) also, this got quite long so under a cut it goes. also, it sort of gets messy but bear with me. (word count: 2.5k)

we’ll first begin with miss karen page. first introduced as a girl being framed for a murder she did not commit; a fresh breath of air, of sorts, in a show focusing mainly on foggy and matt, two men. as the first season moves on, we see that she’s interested in discovering more about union allied, who attempted to frame her, and that eventually leads her to ben urich, a reporter who, in his heyday, followed thrilling and intense cases and wrote groundbreaking articles. now, though, since he’s aged and has more concern for his life and job--which he needs to support his dying wife while she’s in the hospital--he writes whatever his editor wants him to. he’s fine with this. in fact, he’s comfortable with this.

the issue, though? karen essentially pushes him back into this type of work, bringing him into her hunt on union allied which he explicitly stated, multiple times, that he did not wish to do. he knows how this will likely end--he even tells her as much, reminding her that he’s old now, and he’s “a lot less stupid”. while we can’t entirely fault her for coercing him into working with her, since he is a grown man and he can make his own decisions, she was the cause of the events that led up to, and caused, his death. yes, a white woman caused a black man’s death. unsurprising news when you’re black.

after his death, though? karen--who holds absolutely no relation to him--gets the ownership of his car, which could have gone towards paying his wife’s hospital bills, and his job, despite having absolutely no credentials or prior experience. that is a fine example of white privilege. never worked or trained a day in that work, ever, and yet she gets his job. i know this isn’t real life, but it’s a piece of realistic fiction. it should be realistic---which, i guess, it is, since the only way someone with no credentials or experience in journalism is going to get a job is if they’re white. also, this is marvel netflix’s first example of violently murdering a black person in their series (which they do in every one of their series), so that leaves a foul taste in my mouth, as a black person.

and next came the, what i like to call “weirdly random ooc #female badassness! wannabe episode”, aka the episode where she kills wesley, stating that she’s fired a gun before and insinuated that she’s killed before. not only does she get off scot free for this (which, by the way, never would have happened unless she was white), but it’s also never mentioned ever again. it was a needless act that was ludicrous in execution and inserting into the narrative. it was just a way to say “look! our blonde haired beauty is a badass haha :)”

season two comes along, and it’s shown that she’s digging up information about the punisher while also going on dates with matt. eventually, though, she meets frank for who he is and this is what i call the sort of beginning of manipulation, at least for her, but i’ll be getting more into depth about this later. in the last few episodes, she gives frank an ultimatum -- stop being the punisher, or she’ll walk away. you’ll recall that in the defenders, she also gave matt the same ultimatum, which is a form of manipulation and underlying abuse. karen can not accept that these mens’ alter egos is who they are inside, and that causes for her to make them choose between her and doing what they want to do. having experienced such abuse from the hands of ex friends in the past, it sealed the deal for my disdain for her.

the main thing i dislike about karen is how she’s written in a way where it’s as if she can do no wrong. and fandom’s behavior definitely perpetuates that. she’s seen as a “#perfect cinnamon roll” or a “#goddess” or a saint or whatever fandom is referring to her as. she truly is not all that, yet the writers tend to portray her as such. (needless to say that in the comics, she sold matt’s identity as daredevil for drugs, but that’s beside the point.) she does not deserve to be held to such a high pedestal, and fandom, specifically certain individuals in the fandom, should not hate people who point out valid criticism of her because they can’t see it from any perspective that isn’t their own.

on that note, fandom is a large part of my hatred for characters or ships. fandom never knows how to be normal and they either detest you for not liking their favorite character / ship, or don’t listen to you at all.

when it comes to kastle, though, things are more simple to explain. (as of writing, i am currently on the third episode of the punisher and going slowly through it for obvious reasons.) the entire reason frank does what he does, is because of the death of his family. of his children, of his wife. he relives that all throughout season two of daredevil despite claiming to not have ptsd, and we see it even more intensely in the punisher. he thinks of his wife and children every day, without fail--often times its the first thing he thinks of, and the last thing he thinks of. even a year to two years after their death, the wound is still raw and he is very much not over it.

so why, pray tell, is the ship kastle a thing? he is not, in anyway capable of having or maintaining a healthy relationship as of right now--nor might he ever. the fact that people could excuse this obviously damaged man’s feelings just to ship him with fandom’s white fave, thinly veiled self insert character is saddening and bordering on disgusting. he hasnt even had the chance to heal or breathe and everyone’s already shipping him with her?

matt said that karen deserves better than him. “better than [matt]” does not equal “you should date frank”. frank, himself, says that karen is in love with matt. he compares that love to him and his wife, who he’s not over. karen understands this and accepts this -- she is in love with matt, just as frank is in love with maria, still.

his love for maria is further solidified in the first episode of the punisher, when he repeatedly relives good moments that he had with maria and reminisces on the things that he loved about her through his memories. he, in every way, needs healing. what he does not need is a relationship. that would be one of the last things that he needs, especially after going through all that he has. the death and loss of his family was one of the most traumatic things he’s experienced, to the point that he takes it upon himself to track every single person connected to their murder and kill them, even going so far as juarez, mexico, to do so. six months after that is not enough time for the emotional stability that frank needs before a relationship with anyone could even be considered.

after frank kills schoonover, karen is visibly upset.

she didn’t want him to kill someone, and she even goes so far as to tell him that he can’t keep doing what he’s doing, otherwise, they’re through, and she’s walking. (to which he obviously keeps doing what he’s doing and doesn’t look back as he leaves her in the woods.)

going back a bit, in episode ten, after his escape, she’s afraid of him to the point that she draws a gun on him.

(needless to say the scene right after this is everyone’s beloved #zomg kastle!! scene. everyone seems to ignore what happened right before that scene though. hm. wonder why.)

does that even seem like a good relationship build up? he makes her cry out of a fear for him, she gives him an ultimatum, manipulating him, she pulls a gun on him and absolutely can kill him, as seen since she’s murdered wesley and has apparently done so before in the past. he has no reason to believe that she won’t pull that trigger, and the audience, aside from knowing that the punisher is too iconic of a character to kill off, has no reason to believe that she won’t pull that trigger. why not? she’s done it before on screen, and she showed us what she’s capable of doing.

she doesn’t get the chance to because her apartment is shot up and frank, the good person that he is, ducks down and protects her. because he’s a good person, and she’s someone he can consider, at this point, to be a sort of “friend”. (i’m like, 90% sure none of you guys have ever had any good things happen to you from good people or that yall have friends and cant tell the difference between friendship love and romantic love, since yall ship this, but i rest my case.)

a fun scene i saw pop up in the anti kastle tag -- a post written by a shipper -- was the scene in the punisher where someone refers to karen as “his girlfriend, and takes that as a sign. please, i know we all know better than this. people tease people all the time when it comes to friends, especially attractive ones, typically those of the opposite gender. i can’t list the number of times that one of my childhood friends was called “my boyfriend” by my family or i was called “his girlfriend” by his. it would be completely ludicrous to presume that that sort of comment meant anything other than a jest or a poke at frank’s expense. that’s what friends are like, that’s a universal experience for most people who have friends. it does not hint towards that ship or somehow verify it. thats not what the comment was. by thinking it verifies the ship in some way, you’re all effectively making a mountain out of...dust.

finally, let’s talk about fandom’s need to show their ass when it comes to their ableism. frank castle has ptsd, albeit he is in denial of such a fact. fandom often writes fics and headcanons that if kastle was canon, karen could “fix” frank of his ptsd and “make the pain go away”. for one thing, ptsd does not go away. it doesn’t. being with someone does not make it go away. i know fandom likes to see karen as a saint or an angel or a goddess, but she’s human. even if kastle were to happen, the ptsd would still be there. frank isnt going to magically be “cured” because he’s dating karen page. the fact that this is such a common fandom headcanon is ableist in and of itself. as an abuse survivor still living in an abusive situation, fandom needs to understand that ptsd does not go away. it can be lessened, yes, but it does not go away. an event such as watching your entire family get slaughtered before your very eyes does not go away, especially when said person repeatedly has flash backs of said event. you cannot expect it to. this is part of the reason why the fandom, itself, sickens me.

also, there are volatile tendencies on both sides. as karen isn’t the sole person to blame for why this ship borders on toxicity (almost as bad as the fandom); frank is, as well. due to his volatile nature, and her stubborn and subtle manipulations, as well as the fact that neither of them, specifically frank, are in a position to be in a relationship with anyone (karen as well, considering matt, who she canonically loves, has just appeared to die), makes this ship unable to work. it cannot work and it does not work despite fandom’s perpetual pleas to make it work, likely due to the fact that karen is the self insert character for women all across the fandom, typically and most often, from what i’ve seen, the white women. (needless to say that comics canon karen is so vastly different from show karen that she might as well be a self insert oc at this point.) these are the same white women who will likely regard this as “misogyny” and label it as just “another hater hating”. that is not what i am, but if thats your prerogative, to demonize a black woman for pointing out valid criticisms and flaws found in the beloved ship and the white woman, thats not my problem.

so, in conclusion, why do i hate karen? mainly due to the fact that her white privilege gets her a job, a car of a dead man with a dying wife, who’s dead as a result of her actions, and, of course, fandom and their constant push to make her a savior of some kind, here to “fix” frank. why do i hate kastle? because of fandom’s desire to show their ableism in wanting karen to “fix” frank of his ptsd and thinking that a relationship with the woman who gave him an ultimatum and manipulated him in order to act the way that she wanted him to is anywhere near “romantic”. volatile relationships built on past fear of the other and aiming a gun at the other is not a good foundation for any ship. since their meeting, they were known as being in love with other people, and they are currently in a space where they believe their loves are dead. why would someone’s first reaction be to ship them with each other? why would someone’s first reaction be to ship the man who regularly has nightmares and panic attacks about the death of his family and his wife with someone else when he is obviously still in mourning? why would someone’s first reaction be to ship the woman who was crying, sobbing as she attempted to keep him from doing what he wanted to, who was so afraid of him to the point that she held him at gunpoint? where does any of this set the foundations of a good ship?

and why would one ship it?

#lena.txt #anti kastle #anti karen page #userholly #this is it in a nutshell. the ship that gives me anxiety attacks and makes me nauseous.

[millennialmoderator]

8 Powerful Mindset Shifts to Make for 2021

The way we choose to view ourselves and our lives determines the majority of our life experience..

Originally published on millennialmoderator.com

It dictates how we’re going to feel, the mood we will wake up with, our thoughts and reactions, and even our very destiny. If we surround ourselves with negative thoughts, daily events won’t seem quite as positive. If we, on the other hand, choose to try and remain positive – well, that’s a whole new ballgame, isn’t it?

There is, of course, more to it than “just be positive and not negative.” That’s why I will be going into eight powerful mindset shifts you can adopt over the course of 2021. Note how I'm not saying “adopt now so that 2021 can be the best year of your life.” Changing your mindset in the slightest will require a lot of work. You’ll need to keep reminding yourself not to do certain things and to do others instead. It will take time. But, if you want it to stick, you’ll be happy to exchange that time for a better version of yourself down the line. And now for the mindset shifts!

1. Comfort Is the Enemy of Progress

We all like being comfortable. However, the annoying thing is that the more comfortable we feel, the less we are growing. There is no growth in the comfort zone. It can be quite pleasant there, and we can truly enjoy our time being comfortable. In fact, sometimes all you need in life is to retreat there to recharge your batteries before moving on. Maybe you’ve reached a point in life where you feel you don’t want to grow anymore, and there is absolutely nothing else you want to do, achieve, learn, gain. If you would be perfectly happy to live the exact same kind of life from now until you die: congratulations. You have mastered your own life, and you have earned the comfort. On the other hand, if there are still things out there you would want to achieve, own, or become: recognize the enemy within your own camp, and join in battle.

2. Kindness Is a Virtue – Especially on a Bad Day

Kindness used to be considered a virtue, and rudeness was, once upon a time, abhorrent and tedious. Today, we’ve somehow managed to equate kindness with weakness, and we sadly exhibit it less and less. Yet kindness is nothing but positive. It makes your day better, and it makes the day of the person you are being kind to better, too. This is especially true if you are having a bad day.

It doesn’t cost much, either, yet it can completely alter the course of a day. And if you believe in the butterfly effect, it can alter the fate of the world at large. So, next time you sleep late and are consequently late for work and the barista at Starbucks hands you the wrong order, don’t jump down her throat. Be kind, smile, and swallow your irritation. You’ll notice the day somehow manages to become instantly brighter.

3. Self-Care Does Not Equal Being Selfish

This is another myth propagated by modern norms. We are mistakenly lead to believe that it’s somehow selfish to take care of ourselves, put our own needs first, do something we feel like doing and avoid something we don’t feel like doing. Staying home to read a book when your friends would like you to go out is not selfish. After all, you’re not doing anything to harm them – you are just choosing to do what you feel like doing. Start prioritizing self-care over making others feel good. This might mean getting more sleep, for starters – after all, it impacts not only your physical and mental wellbeing, but your creativity too.

Self-care might also mean making healthier food choices and indulging in the pastimes you feel will benefit you. The point of self-care is to nurture your genuine needs, as opposed to doing what other people want you to do (excluding emergencies, of course).

4. What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger

When faced with hardship, there are two reactions we can choose: giving up or getting back up. If you choose the former, you will likely be stuck in a perpetual state of negativity, in one way or another. Bad things happen to everyone, even horrible things. Yet some people choose to dust themselves off and embrace what they still have, while others choose to stop dead in their tracks, lamenting how they could have made something of themselves if only that one thing hadn’t happened.

A life without hardship is practically impossible, but if you choose to keep looking ahead, you can still do plenty. The power is in your hands once you choose to treat every bad event that leaves you still breathing as a chance to learn something, however small that something may be.

5. You Are Who You Spend Your Time with

If the people you choose to spend most of your time with are essentially negative people, you will feel their impact every day of your life. Part of this crowd are also people who might cause you to feel any negative emotion (self-doubt, inadequacy, irritability) or drain your energy. On the other hand, if you spend time with people who lift you up and recharge you, you’ll notice you are adopting a different worldview altogether.

Accept that the company you keep greatly influences the life you are living – even when that doesn’t seem to be the case. Choose to spend your time with people who can teach you something, people who can make you smile and laugh, people you like to be around. Even if you are currently closer to the negative bunch.

6. Mistakes Teach You More Than Wins

Most people are afraid of making mistakes. They think making a mistake is wrong or somehow bad. And this thought limits what they get to do in life. They never try many things, or they might try and give up after that first failure, disappointed that they are not instantly good at something.

The truth is, no one knows anything without having to learn it. Some people are more talented than others, there’s that. Take playing an instrument for example. There are people who have a natural ear and who will become better at it – but they still have to practice a lot. In fact, they practice for hours on end, sometimes for entire days. And they make plenty of mistakes until it comes out perfectly.

The mistakes you make can teach you more than you can learn from your successes. Successes are less frequent, after all, and every time you don’t do something right, you learn something new. Just like a baby does when taking its first steps, or a first violin when practicing their next solo.

7. The World Is More Gray Than It Is Black or White

We like to think that our world is built on opposites. Good and evil. Black and white. Darkness and light. But what the world really is is gray. If you shape your beliefs as either/or, and if you choose to approach people and problems with this attitude, chances are, you will be alienating a whole lot of people as well as experiences.

There is no just black or just white, and there is rarely just good and just evil. Everyone, and every situation, is a mixture of both. The sooner you accept that good people can do silly things and make mistakes, and that morally dubious characters can be incredibly kind, the better you will be able to adjust to living life as a human being.

8. We Are All Reading Different Manuals

Finally, accept that everyone is different and that the beliefs and truths you hold so dear will be utterly strange to someone else. So much of who we are depends on when and where we are born. Our family, our immediate surroundings while we are young, the culture we are exposed to – all of these influences shape our belief system, values, and mindset. And it can be incredibly difficult to change any of them.

When you first accept this fact as the truth, you can begin to challenge yourself and reshape the way you see and interact with the world. This realization will help you understand others, where they are coming from, and how they choose to interact with the world. Hopefully, it will also teach you to be less judgmental as well.

Final Thoughts

Think about each of the mindsets and shifts we’ve talked about here. Do you agree with them? Do you find them to be false? Have you recognized yourself in any of them? Can you see yourself altering any of the beliefs related to these mindsets? Remember: you are who you think you are. Not in the “I can fly if I imagine I can fly” kind of way, but in the more cold, hard, “my mindset determines who I am” kind of way. The way you choose to react and interact with the people and events around you is what ultimately shapes your world. And luckily, the only person who can truly shift that is yourself.

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Originally published on millennialmoderator.com

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