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#if youre like me and exhibited poor behavior know that it's okay
zhongrin · 11 months
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“honey, can you… leave me alone?”
— (sometimes, we all just need some downtime for ourselves)
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◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, diluc, kaeya, kaveh, thoma, albedo, wanderer, xiao
◇ tags ◇ angst with comfort, established relationship, petnames
◇ a/n ◇ oh wow! guys!! i wrote angst with comfort!!! guys!!!!!!! are you proud of me????? this is kinda self-indulgent bc i wrote this when i was just. tired. you know, those moments where you genuinely just want to shut down and be in your own company? yeah.
𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡
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zhongli smiles patiently. and if he judged that you would allow him to, he would place a kiss on top of your head before stepping away. his movements are graceful and calculated, amber eyes ever so observant as he watches the droop of your lashes and the downturn of your lips.
ah. you’re in that kind of mood.
with a firm nod, he promises to give you all the space you needed, as long as at the end of the day you return to his arms. a few hours or days of waiting would certainly make him miss you terribly, but zhongli is a patient man, and your well-being matters most.
“of course. you’ll come to me when you’re ready, yes?”
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al haitham understands your needs very well. contrary to most people’s beliefs, he would put them just as equally high - if not more - than his own needs most of the time.
he simply nods upon your words and, after much consideration, would place his soundproof headphones on your side before he leaves the room, carefully minding his footsteps as he walks towards kaveh’s room to inform the architect of the situation and remind him to tone his antics down.
“alright. call me if you need anything.”
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diluc would automatically ask you if something is wrong or is bothering you - it’s his protective instincts, don’t blame him too much - but he knows not to probe further when you give him that look.
he offers for a maid to deliver your favorite warm drink later, and with one last comforting squeeze of his hand on top of yours, he leaves, his head full of questions and his heart set to spoil you rotten the moment you return to his side.
“adelinde? tell the maids to skip cleaning [name]’s study today. and tell the workers to be especially quiet when they walk about the second floor.”
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kaeya might only have half the eyesight normal people have, yet he’s anything but inattentive, especially when it comes to you. he settles with a light, fleeting caress upon your cheek with his gloved hand, and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead before retreating, offering you a sympathetic grin.
“i got you, babe. i’ll be at the office doing paperwork for once, but you can visit me anytime, okay?”
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thoma holds back the urge to fuss over you like the mother hen that he is.
he knows about this habit of yours - sometimes lady ayaka exhibits the same behavior - so he knows he shouldn’t be too worried. you always get over this eventually; what you need now is time, and just like any other point in time in your relationship, he is more than willing to accommodate all of your desires.
“do you need me to sleep at the couch tonight? it’s really no trouble at all, love. anything that makes you most comfortable, okay?”
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kaveh visibly pouts and looks like he’s about to cry when you ask him for such a request.
he can’t help it, okay? he wants to hold and kiss and cherish you constantly! so having to deliberately spend some time apart from you is torture to him… plus, those tired eyes of yours hurt his poor empathetic heart more than anything.....
with a saddened nod, he fiddles his fingers and gives you a pair of wet puppy eyes.
“are you sure, baby? …... you know you can tell me anything, right? …… whenever you’re ready, okay, precious? i’ll be in the living room, then…. come find me soon, okay, my love?”
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albedo doesn’t even bat an eye. he’s already long since memorized your behavioral patterns, and from your recent ventures, he did conclude that this was going to happen. all within expectations, he muses, yet he can’t help but feel saddened at the exhaustion prominently displayed on your features.
with a soft smile, he places his specially curated ‘care package’ on your lap along with a gentle kiss on your cheek before exiting the room and hanging a “do not disturb - contact albedo instead” sign right in front of the door.
“there are a few snacks and calming scented candles inside, along with a few interesting puzzles and crafts. i thought you might like them and find them relaxing. i’ll be at the lab - just send a message through sucrose or timaeus if you need me.”
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wanderer’s automatic response is a half-fearful, half-angry “are you fucking serious? hell no!”, but the second emotion is amplified when he sees the murkiness in your expression.
he swears to inflict pain upon whoever dared to put this expression on your face, but he falters when you explain your thoughts the best you can in your current headspace. eventually, with a scowl on his face and a gruff "fine.", the door closes behind him and he slides onto the floor. sure, you can shoo him away, but he has no intention to move from that spot until you reopen the said door.
“….. hmph. guess being a puppet is a good thing at times like these.”
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xiao relates to your struggles far too well. he simply nods and teleports out from the room as fast as he could, not wanting his karmic debt to affect your mood further negatively.
throughout it all, your silent protector watches from afar and listens to the wind around you ever so cautiously. just because he agreed to give you space, it doesn’t mean he can’t continue to make sure you’re safe and sound, after all.
“understood. you need only call my name when you are ready to see me.”
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© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!
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◇ taglist ◇ @thestarsofenkanomiya | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @nachotrash | @algrimmammon | @sassy-cat-in-town
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alicepao13 · 2 hours
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Hudson and Rex S06E11
Retrospectively, this episode had a good promo, as it made it look more high-stakes than it actually was. That’s not to mean it was a bad episode but the actual episode made Rex's situation look decidedly less dire.
We get right into it, and I think I’d have preferred a first scene with Sarah picking up the phone and being told that Charlie is in the hospital, or a scene where they find Charlie. And their first interaction seems bland, sorry.
That lady is creepy. She could be an unsub on Criminal Minds.
Charlie’s threshold above which he can leave the hospital is: “Can I walk?” *limps, staggers* “Eh, good enough. Let’s go find Rex.”
I get why creepy lady had to treat Rex, script-wise, but after that point it was like his injury practically disappeared. Another miraculous recovery. 
"I never should have let him chase that trailer". What are you talking about, Rex chasing people is literally how you guys catch 80% of the criminals.
"I was being a cowboy". How this comes up after so many cases of both Charlie and Rex exhibiting this kind of behavior and is now considered cowboy behavior while in the past it has been considered police work, I don't know.
"Your bark is bigger than your bite"? The disrespect! Allow him to demonstrate.
"Rocky it is". Oh, hell no, lady.
You have to admire the astonishingly amateurish work of the thieves. They go to "steal" the horse, they get seen. They go back to get the clippers, they get seen again.
Hey, they're using Jesse as a detective again. Good for you, Jesse Mills.
They actually started searching the barns one by one? Oh, my.
Joe and Sarah keeping an eye on Charlie. But just. Keeping an eye.
Why is he talking with the guy like they had a mere brawl? Like, shove him against the wall, Rex is missing! I demand some violence for this.
I appreciate Sarah's tactile approach of making sure Charlie is okay every five minutes lol
Of course Rex, even injured and captured, would still be looking to get the murder weapon. A consummate professional.
"Cardinal rule of marriage, ask for forgiveness, not permission". What an idiot. You're at the divorce lawyer's door and you don't even know it, dumbass.
This might be the dumbest reason for a person to get caught in other people's bullshit and end up getting murdered. Being witness to a fake theft orchestrated by the person who actually owns the horse, and trying to stop it. In another show, the guy would become a vengeful ghost, rightfully so.
Oh yeah, that lady is scary. And apparently, abusive too.
Rex's ears perking up as he hears the sound of Sarah's car is like, "oh fucking finally, they've come to get me out of here". And then he gets sedated. Poor dog is having a hell of a day.
Charlie heard Rex's whine with... supersonic hearing? First the growling, now this. I think he's becoming part dog.
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Oh yeah, this is what people with concussions and limps should do.
"Another blow to the head could be serious". Oh, you mean, another, other blow? Also, another concussion even weeks later can actually cause second-impact syndrome, and kill him. I think he's due for a vacation.
"I'll keep my head down". That response alone warrants some violence.
"Not hurt are you?" Well, it's been like a full day since Rex was shot. He's totally fine.
I think the promo overhyped the episode, but it was still good. I needed a bit more emotion from everyone, to be honest. The hospital scene could be longer but at least they remembered to show the side effects of getting a concussion, somewhat. I still maintain that someone should have died for shooting Rex, but that would be to satisfy me personally. The excess of violence should be acceptable if someone shoots a dog. See John Wick. Also, at which point will they come up with the idea to put a GPS tracker on Rex? A GPS tracker on Charlie would be a good idea too, for a grown man he's surprisingly easy to lose :P
At some point, all of this should blow over to a scene where Sarah accuses Charlie of being reckless, but I'm not holding my breath.
Promo: The SJPD precinct continues to be a dangerous place to work. I'd say there are smarter ways of getting the police's attention than trying to hold one of their people at knife-point. But hey, I appreciate it regardless. I'm glad the tone of the season has changed from "we don't know what the fuck we're doing" to "Hudson and Rex, in which everyone is having a terribly dangerous time".
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a-sentient-horax · 4 months
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November 27, 2023 - Part 1
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Okay, well, we made it through Thanksgiving. My mom came down with my three siblings: my sister (17), my brother (15) and my youngest brother (9). I actually hosted Thanksgiving last year as well, but it was my dad, his girlfriend, and his parents (my grandparents) that came down. It's the fun of having divorced parents I guess. Now, my boyfriend and I live in an apartment. It's not small, but it's not huge. Or at least it's not really the size to host a 6 person Thanksgiving, BUT I've made it work twice. The way that we do it is we cook all the food in our apartment, load it all up into this wagon that my bf and I have had for years, and then take it all to the conference room in our apartment. The conference room has a huge, 10-person conference table, so it's the perfect place for a dinner. It also has a TV so that we can watch the Cowboys lose while we eat. I think probably definitely we aren't "supposed" to do that, since we didn't reserve the conference room and it's not meant for like, a ton of food to be in there. But I've gotten away with it twice.
My mom and I have a historically rocky relationship. When I was 12 I moved in with my dad full-time, and then when I left my home state I didn't talk to my mom at all for about two years. We have started to reconcile over the last few years and it has been mostly linear and successful. The older I get the more insight I have into my mom and her behvaiour, I mean that's sort of like, what happens when you grow up right? You can't understand your parents as adults when you are a child because you are still a child. You can't even understand yourself as an adult yet.
My mother has some kind of personality disorder, or something. I'm not a psychologist, I'm not going to pretend I can diagnose her. I see content about "cluster B" personality disorders and those seem to fit. In the past I called her a narcissist and bipolar. Again, I don't know, but she exhibits behaviors similar to the ones I hear about from those personality disorders. I have tried to make a concerted effort to destigmatize personality and mental disorders, and I would stake my life on the fact that whatever quirks my mom has are directly related to abuse (from her parents, from bullies, from her ex-husbands and ex-boyfriends, etc.); but it is very, very difficult hard to have a mother with a personality disorder. It was harder as a child, because I couldn't really understand why I was always wary of my mom, or why I could recognize she was different from others but now how she was different or why it made me feel weird. But as an adult it's like, a whole new understanding.
When I was a kid my mom was abusive to me. That's not what this journal entry is about. She yelled at me often, was rude, picked on me, punished me often, was extremely controlling and her moods were erratic and impulsive. She robbed me of a childhood and I was forced to raise my siblings and myself while constantly being berated for not doing exactly what she wanted every time and reading her mind and emotions to understand what she wanted from me. I think these things are independent of her mental illness, or at least that they weren't caused solely by it. We were poor, her second husband was incredibly physically abusive and a drugs addict. Getting out of that situation yeah probably requires that you parentify your eldest daughter and you are under constant stress. And of course her parents yelled and screamed as their only way of communication so that's what she did to us. It's not all from mental illness, it's a compounding of factors. Again, I can really only recognize that because I'm an adult now.
So, my mom comes down for Thanksgiving, and it's a weird sort of view I have of her. It's clear that I'm not "part of the family." And while that hurts, I understand. I left them all behind, the four of them live together all the time now without me, I'm not a key member of their family anymore. Man that hurts, but ok I understand. It also produces this weird thing where I am watching my mom perform for me as if I was an outsider. And I started to notice weird things. One event that I keep thinking about is when we were walking my littlest brother around a local town center area. It had been decorated with Christmas things for kids to play with, like there was a big toy wooden plane they could get in and pretend they were flying, there was a huge 6 foot tall Rubiks cube, etc. etc. Also in the area was a huge life-sized unicorn. There was a group of about 7-8 people, all childless adults who were clearly pretty drunk, and they were taking turns on the unicorn. After one lady gets off the unicorn, the group kind of huddles around and starts talking. They are still staying near the unicorn, like they want more pictures, but they are talking with each other and no one is on the unicorn. Now, my family was standing to the side, waiting our turn, definitely out of sight of the group, it's not like they saw us waiting. But we were waiting for our turn, letting my littlest brother go nuts on the toy train. My mom keeps looking over there, and it's clear she's getting impatient or upset, or at least that she's about to do something. And suddenly she takes off. She stomps right up to the unicorn and starts struggling to get on. So that's the situation. 7-8 strangers are giving my mom the evil eye, while she struggles to get on this unicorn and is like, waving at us to take her picture. And it was profoundly embarrassing. My boyfriend, the kindest loving soul I have ever met, has never in his life acted embarrassed by my or any of my family's actions, but when this happened I heard him mutter "I can't... I can't..." and he walked away to monitor my youngest brother. He does not like kids, and he decided he would rather hang out with the 9 year old.
And maybe that's what I am struggling with as an adult. It is humiliating and embarrassing to have a parent that has a disorder. And it sucks. It's mean to say, I don't want to be embarrassed by my mom, I don't want her to humiliate me and my siblings, because my siblings were humiliated and immediately wanted to leave after my mom did this. And I can't confront her about it and even if I could is it even fair? Is it even fair to force my mother to conform to a version of herself that is not embarrassing to me or to our family in public just because I don't like to feel embarrassed? And is it even her fault? Could she actually change even if I confronted her and she wanted to? She is already so stressed and so lonely and is struggling through her life, what am I supposed to say to her, "You clearly have a disorder of some kind and this immutable part of you that you cannot change is what is driving people from having an authentic connection with you so you need to change your authentic self to be more palatable for me?" I mean I just...I don't know what to do and it makes me feel sick inside thinking about it.
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I do have a gut feeling that Kanye is on the side on people who continually CHOOSE to not get the help they need or do the work it unfortunately takes to healthily cope with mental illnesses. BUT a lot of people are unable to actually have the option of choosing to get help due to their mental illnesses without external help. So this discussion about condemning behavior before the person themself is so important for true and lasting recovery and positive mental health.
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erwinsvow · 3 years
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𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
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summary: zeke knows it’s wrong. you know it’s wrong. yet something always brings you back to your step-dad when your mom’s not around.
warnings: step-cest, manipulation, infidelity, mommy issues, zeke is the devil incarnate and reader is an angel (figuratively.. for now), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dacryphilia, daddy kink, praise kink, rough sex, creampie, you've been warned!
author's note: lord knows how long i've been thinking about this one. zeke fuckers, this one is for you. tagging @colossalnova ! hope everyone likes it!
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“It must be so nice to have such a good daughter to take care of you,” Mr. Ksaver comments without a second thought, as you head towards the kitchen to get two cups of coffee for Zeke and his friend. Your lips turn up into a pleased smile as soon as you hear the words, delighted with the praise from someone so close to your step-father.
Zeke makes an effort to hide the smirk that comes to him so naturally, because if only Mr. Ksaver knew just how good of a daughter you were for him. But that’s a conversation for another day, he finally decides, turning back to his guest with a smile.
“Step-daughter,” he corrects with the most genuine look he can muster. He could fool a priest with that aura of ingenuity that he gives off without any effort, because after all, that’s how he had gotten you into this position in the first place.
Mr. Ksaver beams back at him, his close friend still completely in the dark.
“Oh, of course, but you two could fool anyone. Say, where’s your wife? I haven’t seen her in a while..” Tom trails off, and Zeke is glad for it. He doesn’t like talking about your mother, his new wife, if he can help it. Business trips and commitments at the salon kept much of her time occupied, leaving only brief interactions with you two, her so-called family. It didn’t take long for him to realize she had been this way most of your life, an absent parental figure since the departure of your father. As cruel as it was, he could easily see why you were the way you were.
Zeke thought you were a lot of things. Pretty was at the top of the list, along with innocent and insecure, but the biggest quality he could see in you, the one that just screamed out at him ever since that first time he had laid eyes on you, was people-pleaser.
It was so apparent in everything you did, from the modest way you dressed to the try-hard behavior you exhibited with teachers and your friends’ parents. He recognized quickly it was because your mother didn’t acknowledge any of it, not the dinners you made for the three of you or the sweet, thoughtful gifts and flowers on special occasions.
It was actually on Mother’s Day the previous year when he had been able to get you alone for the first time. The then-new Mrs. Yeager had booked a full day at the spa as a treat for herself, even though she barely had an ounce of motherly qualities in her body. She had tossed aside the bouquet you had gifted her with, skimmed the card with your sweet, handwritten note, and rolled her eyes at your own watery ones after seeing just how little she cared about this holiday that was meant for you both to celebrate.
After she had left, Zeke had knocked on your door tentatively. It was wrong of him to be as gleeful as he was on the inside, but he’d been waiting for a moment like this for the last several months. He even let twenty minutes pass before coming up to your room to make sure he would get you teary-eyed and upset, just how he wanted.
Any other girl might have told her new step-father to fuck right off, given that he had done nothing to defend you or ask your mother to be kinder towards you, but not you. Ever the people-pleaser, you wiped away your tears with the sleeves of the cardigan you’d been wearing all day, fixed yourself from the position you had been in while weeping on your bed, and told him to come in.
Zeke was fucked the minute he saw you sitting there, dressed purely like an angel in a sundress that had ridden up in your distress and with tear-lidden eyelashes blinking slowly at him. The redness of your nose and cheeks, mixed with how your hair was just a little messed up and your hiccuping whimpers painted an entirely different picture for him. At first, it had just been a game, just to see how long it would take him to seduce his new wife’s daughter, but now it was something else altogether.
But it’s the first sentence you say to him, alone in the house without your wretched mother for the first time, that breaks him.
“S-Sorry Zeke. I didn’t want to eat after that, but I can go get everything ready again for you.” For him. Your mother’s cold behavior had you crying your eyes out before noon, and yet you were still concerned about the lunch you had prepared and if he wanted to eat.
It made his heart burn in a lecherous way, with thoughts in his head about why he hadn’t married you instead of her.
“That’s okay, honey, don’t worry about me. I came to check up on you.” He’s holding up the facade well, he thinks, closing the door gently behind him and hearing the click of the latch. He’s only been in your room a handful of times, and for most of those occasions, you hadn’t been there, so he couldn’t act too comfortable. His eyes roamed around the space, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume that lingered on every object and shoving his hands into his pockets to seem as unassuming as possible.
You wipe away a stray tear, blinking quickly and looking back at him with big eyes. Damn your eyes, honestly, because he knows he doesn’t stand a chance against them, especially when they’re so watery like that.
“Check up on me?” you let out in a soft voice. It’s adorable, honestly, how you think your new step-father would be just like your mother and not care about you at all. You’re not used to this kind of affection from anyone besides your friends from school, and even they don’t know about the reality of your home life. You don’t know what it’s like to have a parent check up on you, to have them want to make sure you’re okay, and suddenly you can feel your face burning with heat at the realization that you and Zeke are all alone in your bedroom.
Zeke is handsome according to anyone’s standards, but for some reason, you can never tear your eyes away from him when he doesn’t know you’re looking. He’s old enough to be your father—your real father, that is—but that doesn’t stop you. You always find yourself staring at his golden locks that shine especially bright when he’s in the sun after his daily run, when you’re watering your garden and your mother isn’t home from work yet. Or when he’s just left the shower and every part of his body is dripping wet, walking back to his bedroom and you catch a glimpse through your open door.
It’s easy to think of him as off-limits, though, since you would never hurt your mother like that. She doesn’t show you affection, or care about you like how your friends’ mothers care for them, but she’s still your mom. Nothing would ever justify betraying her like this, by having these illicit thoughts about your step-father. So you make sure you stop staring, avoid being alone with him as much as you can and create excuses to get out of spending time with him, but you don’t think any of that is really working.
Because now, with Zeke in your bedroom and the sleeves of your cardigan wet with far too many tears, you don’t really care if this is wrong. All you care about is how Zeke is inching closer to your bed with every step.
“Yeah, sweetheart, I wanted to make sure you were okay after all that. It’s not easy, I know,” he says in such a soothing tone that you feel yourself getting lost in the daze of it.
“You know?” you question again, wondering if Zeke could really relate to you. You had always felt like such an outcast, the poor girl nobody loved or wanted, without any love in her life at all.
“Uh-huh, I know. I really hate that your mother won’t treat you better, but you know her, she’s not gonna change,” he watches your nodding face and resigned expression. “Can I-?” he motions to the space next to you on the bed.
“Oh, sure, please,” you say quickly, moving yourself over a bit and making room for him, dress exposing even more of the soft skin of your legs now. He tries not to stare, and every part of him wants to put a hand on your thigh and stroke softly, but he doesn’t want to scare you off. Not yet. He’ll take his time.
“Thank you for saying that.” Your voice is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it.
“Of course. I mean, you are my daughter now, aren’t you?” He’s pushing his luck, but oh well. “I guess… it’s sort of my responsibility to take care of you, right?”
He sees your eyes widen a little, probably a million thoughts running through your little head. You’re so used to being alone, not having anyone’s affection, that a few simple words from Zeke have you fucked. Probably feeling the same way he is in this moment, eager and affectionate and ready. You find yourself nodding at his sweet words.
Any other day, you might have doubted the sincerity of what he was feeding you, but your mind was already a little fuzzy from the interaction with your mother. You still don’t know why you had gotten your hopes up so much, when it always led to disappointment in the end. You wish you could go back and warn yourself not to expect so much from your mother, who was almost as absent a parental figure as your father.
In that moment, Zeke’s kind words and welcoming arms didn’t seem so bad. You could only imagine that he felt the same way you did, as you doubted your mother was being a good wife to him from the interactions you observed.
“I…” you begin, but trail off when you notice the way Zeke’s eyes are looking at you. You almost instinctively lean back and away from him, like a lamb avoiding a predator, when you focus on how he’s much too close to you.
You’re entirely overwhelmed by his piercing, concerned gaze and the uncomfortable heat you feel between your thighs—your throat runs dry and you know it’s not from the crying. You think he must notice it too, with the way he leans forward, one more movement from him and you’d be trapped between Zeke’s broad figure and your bed.
He supposes that was the make-or-break moment in this little dalliance between you two. In that moment, had you been uncertain or asked him to leave, he would have listened to you and likely never bothered you again. All the same, he knew you wouldn’t.
You look back fondly on that Mother’s Day, the day you gave yourself over to Zeke without the slightest bit of regret. Your mother had returned home later that night, with nails and hair freshly done, acting as though there could have been no better way to spend Mother’s Day. She walked right past you sitting on the couch with Zeke, ignoring his tousled hair and your swollen lips.
Since then, it had been a fun sort of game. You felt guilty, of course, but nothing could compare to the thrill of the secret you had with Zeke, just for you two and no one else. He was more adventurous than you, always sneaking kisses and lingering touches when your mother was just a room away, fucking you roughly with a hand clasped over your mouth while she was on a conference call in her office down the hall.
Over time, you felt yourself becoming adventurous too. You had never done anything like this before, anything remotely bad or wrong, and it was safe to say that you were sinking further and further into the pit of corruption that Zeke had created.
Which is how you ended up here today.
You brought back two steaming cups of coffee on a platter to the living room, setting them down and mixing in cream and sugar for Zeke’s. You hand the cup to him with a sweet smile, and he takes a sip contentedly.
“Just perfect, like always.” The praise makes you smile widely, cheeks feeling warm despite the fact that you had a guest.
“How do you take your coffee, Mr. Ksaver?” you ask politely, as the elderly man laughs and takes the cup into his hand.
“Just plain black, thank you. I never had a taste for sweet things, like Zeke does.” If only he knew.
You smile again and bid goodbye, taking the tray with you as you leave and heading back to your room. You knew Zeke would be up as soon as he was done, since your mother was still out and you had precious time together, all alone.
As soon as you heard the front door close, and the sound of ignition starting from outside your window, you were alert. You could hear Zeke’s footsteps coming up the staircase, eagerly anticipating him this time.
He doesn’t knock anymore, letting himself in and closing the door gently behind him, as always. You hear the lock click quietly.
“Daddy,” you mumble from your place on your bed. You’re lying against the pillows now, fully on display for him in his favorite dress and already wet at the thought of what he would do to you once he got you alone.
“Yes, honey?” He says, in a tone that’s sincere and mocking at the same time. He’s still by the door, not coming in further like you want him to. He wants you to use your words.
“You said once we were alone..”
“Once we were alone, what? That I’d play with you?” You nod dumbly at his words. He inches closer to you, but still entirely too far away for your liking.
“I want you, Daddy. We only have a little bit before she gets back,” and you know you’re in for it now.
“Oh, is that so? We only have a little time?” Before you can process it, Zeke is hovering above you, a firm hand on your wetness teasing you and making you cry out at the sudden pressure. His hand moves slowly, just barely grazing your clothed clit and you whimper. “Let me tell you something, baby,” he whispers right next to your ear. “I’ll take as much time with you as I want, no matter who else is in this house. You got that?”
You let out a strangled moan at his words, knowing the effect they have on you and the uncomfortable wetness between your legs becoming even more prominent. You could swear that he can see how wet you are, even with your panties still on, and you desperately jerk up onto his hand to get some, any, contact.
“D-daddy, please! I-” you break off into another moan as he rubs your clit firmly. You’re not even sure when he took your panties off, but you can feel two of his fingers prodding at your slit, just waiting as he continues his work.
“Does that feel good, baby? Use your words,” he says, teasing you despite how badly you want him to stop and just be inside you already. Another strange feeling bubbles in your chest, knowing that your mother would be home soon and could be pulling into the driveway right now. You can hardly focus on those thoughts though, letting out a loud squeal when Zeke pushes two fingers into your soaking wetness, stopping at his knuckles.
“Oh god, Daddy, that feels so good, please, please keep going-” the rest of your words disappear as he pushes his thick fingers completely in, marveling at the way you’re so stretched out around them.
“Good girl, baby, you’re doing so well.” You keen at the praise, moaning loudly as he continues fingering you, scissoring his digits inside you and getting you prepared for his cock. He knows he’s on a time limit too, but he’ll be damned if he lets that rush him. No, he needs to take his time with you.
Every time he feels the tightness of your hole, it takes him back to that first time, and he refuses to hurry up.
His thumb rubbing circles on your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out quickly, filling the room with a lewd squelching noise, have you seeing stars before long. Every time Zeke touches you, you wonder how you went so long without it. Your own actions when you touch yourself are nothing compared to his anymore. He’s got you so dependent on him, so reliant that you barely want to cum by yourself anymore.
He slows his actions just for a second, just to pull down the front of your sundress and reveal your tits to him. Zeke increases his speed as he latches his mouth around your hardening nipple, flicking with his tongue and taking the pebbled bud between his teeth, tugging slightly and making you cry out as it suddenly becomes too much to handle.
You’re succumbing to the orgasm before you even know it, waves of pleasure washing over your body as the knot in your stomach finally releases and fills your core with heat.
“Good girl, baby, cum for Daddy now,” he says from his place on your chest.
“Daddy! Daddy, I-! Oh!” You know how pathetic you must sound, screaming and moaning helplessly as Zeke doesn’t let up on his actions. You finally put your hand on top of his and make him look up, into your eyes, and press his lips to yours.
A sloppy, hot kiss in the aftermath of your orgasm has you shaking under his grip, entire body feeling hot and sweaty. He pushes his fingers, slick with your wetness, to your lips and you open without any request for him, sucking and rolling your tongue over the digits until they’re all clean.
“Good girl,” he breathes into your neck, whether he places more sloppy kisses. “You ready for Daddy to fuck you?”
You nod meekly, moaning loudly as you feel Zeke align himself with your slit, and letting out a high-pitched squeal when he pushes himself into you entirely. You choke on your breath at the sudden feeling of fullness, completely ignoring the way Zeke’s focus seems to be on something else.
Perfect timing, he thinks to himself, hearing the car pull into the driveway and knowing his dear wife had arrived home. He was too deep inside of you to care, though.
Zeke pulled his hips back slowly, wanting you to feel every inch of him, and then slammed them down harshly. For every motion of his hips, you released a loud, obscene moan, babbling on without making any sense at all as Zeke fucked you.
All you could process were Zeke’s reassuring praises, calling you a good girl as he continued at a brutal pace, fucking you so hard you couldn’t figure out where you stopped and he began.
He picked up the pace and the angle of his cock stretched you out so perfectly, he was hitting against your clit with every thrust and you could swear you were seeing stars again, so close to the edge and screaming out for him, when he clasps a hand over your mouth quickly.
You reacted with a jolt, unsure of why he suddenly silenced you when he placed a kiss right next to your ear, whispering quietly.
“Looks like she’s home. Be quiet for Daddy, okay, baby?” Your eyes widen in panic, flustered with shame and another feeling you can’t put together when Zeke goes back to his quick pace, fucking you rapidly and giving your clit the contact you so desperately needed. You cum again with a stifled, broken noise leaving your mouth and your body jerking up against his, the hand that wasn’t covering your mouth holding you down in place. You feel yourself clench down on his cock, as he rides you through it, thrusting in and out and doing nothing to stop the vulgar noises that fill the room.
You can hear it now—the steps of your mother coming into the house, and probably up the stairs to her office soon enough. Your heavy breathing coupled with Zeke’s grunts are the only sound left as his hips stutter and you feel hot ropes of cum shoot inside you, filling you up. Zeke finally comes to a halt, pressing a kiss to your lips as you hear your mother walk right outside your door, talking to someone on the phone.
Your panicked eyes meet his perfectly calm ones, a devilish smirk playing at his lips as you hear the steps halt and then continue again, walking by your room as though you didn’t even exist.
You release a sigh, Zeke pressing another kiss to you that you return eagerly.
“Good girl. Now clean up while Daddy goes and deals with her.”
You feel suddenly emptier, lighter as Zeke lifts his weight off of you and adjusts his clothes. You sit back up slowly, careful to not make an even bigger mess and ruin your dress, as Zeke grabs your panties off the floor and hands them to you with a smile. You pull them up, fixing your dress and realizing that you need to run a brush through your hair before you see your mother again.
Zeke unlocks the door and leaves with one last smile gracing his face, as you sit up and feel remnants of your encounter inside you.
Moments later, your mother walks by and glances at your open door, which was locked before. She pushes it open, taking a look at you on the bed. You’re certain you look like a mess, hair disheveled and sweat on your body, with limbs feeling like jelly.
“Hi, mom,” you greet, with the most false enthusiasm you can muster. “What is it?” She looks at you coldly, almost as if she knew something was going on and couldn’t quite place it.
“Clean yourself up, honey, Uncle Eren is coming over for the weekend.”
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little-robin-h00d · 3 years
Text
The Seven Deadly Sins are being taken too literally
Another hot take from me? So soon? Apparently so!
The Seven Deadly Sins are extremely misunderstood, particularly in American “Christianity”. Though, with how bastardized it’s become, American “Christianity” doesn’t resemble Christianity at all- but that’s a topic for another time. Let me explain how I see the deadly sins, as also according to some more historical contexts.
Pride: Taking pride in your accomplishments and knowing your value, worth, and skills is not a sin. Hell, all that shit is healthy! There’s such a thing as being too humble. What is bad is an excess of pride- being cocky, thinking others are lesser than you, thinking you’re better than everyone else.
Greed: Wanting nice things for yourself isn’t bad! Spoil yourself a little, treat yourself. What the sin of greed is supposed to be is basically “infinite growth”, never being content with what you have. A desire for more and more profit and/or power, no matter how much you already have. Think capitalism, landlords, lobbyists, ect.
Wrath: Getting righteously angry with someone who hurt you is not a sin, nor is being angry at an evil person. Anger, like all emotions, has a purpose. Anger is the part of you that cares, the part that wants to protect you and the people you care about. Wrath is something different. Wrath is causing needless harm because you can, wrath is taking advantage of the power you have over someone weaker than you, wrath is bigotry, wrath is animal abuse, or abuse from family, or a partner, or even a bully.
Envy: Feeling envious is perfectly natural! Especially if you’re not doing too well, yourself. However, it’s what you do with those feelings that matter. Taking it out on someone that’s doing better than you is not the way to go, neither is trying to take the thing you’re envious about away (that is, unless we’re talking about the greedy people from the Greed section above).
Lust: Sexual attraction and libido isn’t sinful, it’s completely natural for most people! And if you don’t have it, that’s okay, too! However, the sin of Lust isn’t even necessarily sexual! It ties in a little with greed, with lust for: sexuality, love, money, and/or power. Think perverts, rapists, incels, abusive people that desire to control others, dictators, big companies like Google, Walmart and Amazon, ect.
Gluttony: Gluttony is supposed to mean is hoarding wealth while others are poor and suffer because of it, indulging in feasts while people go hungry. Think billionares, like Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk. Hoarding more wealth than you could ever possibly spend in a lifetime, buying “luxury” items just because you can afford it, like a third yacht, while people are poor. Think “let them eat cake”. Think McMansions that are unreasonably big and could in fact house multiple families, but only belongs to one person, when people are homeless. That’s what gluttony is.
Sloth: Sloth is a tricky one! Because there is truly no such thing as “laziness”, but that’s not all the sloth is. Sloth’s meaning actually doesn’t have much to do with so-called “laziness”, but more-so abandoning one’s responsibilities and not caring about it, and/or being selfish. It’s in humanity’s nature to care for others, and Sloth is the opposite, only caring for one’s self. Anyone with the “I’ve got mine, screw yours” attitude is exhibiting this sin. Many people with mental disabilities or illnesses, whether diagnosed are undiagnosed, are accused of being “lazy”, but they’re not. Actually, oftentimes, those people are trying much harder than normal people, and have many more roadblocks they have to face in order to be successful. To those people, myself included, it’s not your fault.
As you can see, society’s view on the Seven Deadly Sins has become extremely warped over the centuries, especially in modern American culture. The Seven Deadly Sins aren’t outdated, just misinterpreted and twisted into things they don’t actually mean. I think it’d be a good idea to bring the true meaning of these sins back, because oftentimes the true sinful behavior isn’t being viewed as sinful.
Now, I may have grown up catholic, but I’m agnostic. Take my words with a grain of salt, look into it yourself. Ask yourself what is truly harmful and sinful, and what behavior has only been painted that way by the people that are actually harmful/sinful.
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bostonbashers · 3 years
Note
Hear me out.. How do mercs behave around a person they have a huge crush on?! :D
AAAAAA this one is so cute, i’m in love!! 🤩❤️
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Scout:
literally a fucking DORK around you. tries to impress you constantly with anything and everything he has, ranging from his skill set to his appearance to his personal belongings and much more.
always finds excuses to spend time with you and it can be the most asanine ones in existence. oh? you have free time tomorrow? let’s go take a run down the street. you miss your puppy that got lost when you were a kid? let’s go to the ends of the earth to find it.
made you borrow his jacket/shirt once because he accidentally spilled a drink all over your shirt. once he saw you in it, he nearly died and didn’t want it back. takes it back anyway due to his pride and though he seems outwardly okay with it, he secretly doesn’t wash the clothing for a long while.
his flirtatious behavior around other people goes down immensely. scout becomes strictly loyal to you once his crush grows stronger and can’t bear the thought of talking with someone else, even if you don’t like him back. it just doesn’t sit with him right.
Soldier:
soldier is much softer and kinder around you. he restrains himself from using any harsh words that could hurt your feelings and tries to slow down on your training.
shows you his pets!! one of his prized possessions that he won’t allow anyone else to touch, like ever. he trusts you to love and take care of them the same way he does.
everyone has to respect you. if they even give you a slight problem, he’ll get on their case about it and probably give them hell before they could even mutter out an apology. you deserve respect and he’s gonna make sure you get nothing less.
lots of supportive comments from him! even if it’s something small, he’ll grin at you proudly and yell out a, “good job, cupcake! you did great!” while giving you a strong pat in the back or an approving nod.
Pyro:
pyro is usually sweet and kind with a certain crowd and tries to do the best they can for others, but with their crush? it’s a whole different story. they’re absolutely head over heels for them.
like a lovesick puppy; they will follow you wherever they go with a skip in their step. like, i mean they’ll follow you everywhere. “no, pyro you can’t follow me to the bathroom-!” they don’t really listen but patiently wait outside anyway.
one of the many mercs who won’t hesitate to show affection and sees nothing wrong in it. runs up to them and holds their hand firmly with a happy hum, hugs them more than usual, and just straight up gives you all their attention.
Demoman:
oh boy, if tavish has a crush on you, he’ll show it when he’s absolutely wasted. demo will literally smother you with affection regardless of where you both are and literally latch onto you every second he gets a chance to.
lots of drunk ramblings; he’ll lay his head on your shoulder or lap while he mindlessly slurs about how amazing you are, what his favorite thing is about you, and so much more.
it’s pretty obvious at that point demo likes you so you admit your liking to him pretty quick and it’s funny how shocked he gets. “ya knew i liked ya?!” yes, demo, they did.
when he’s sober, he’s much more shy with it and controls his actions a lot more. apologizes for his behavior while drunk. tavish exhibits more gentleman behavior, from opening doors to making you a decent dinner and just basically ensuring your comfortability.
Heavy:
heavy is very mature and will accept his feelings pretty quick compared to the others. it’s a 50/50 chance with him; if they feel the same, that’s great! if they don’t, then.. he’d have no choice but to move on. that’s how life works.
once he does accept it, be expecting a lot of mother hen behavior; he literally watches your every move to make sure you’re safe and healthy. even if you are, he goes out of his way to give you things whenever he knows you’re around; a homemade meal, a blanket, probably some candy. your smile is already more than enough to make up for the little things he does for you. 
no one will ever dare to hurt you around heavy (or just in general, really). he senses danger and issues pretty quickly, so it’s easy for him to detect any bad intentions. he’s like that scary bodyguard who looms behind you, glaring at anyone who radiates rancid vibes to scare them away.
Medic:
probably takes a while to accept or realize it cause he’s always so preoccupied in his lab, being busy and all. but once he does realize it, it’s sort of foreign to him at first, so of course, he goes to heavy to speak about his emotions. after being told it was a crush, he pays attention to you a lot more than usual, sometimes even without him noticing.
he gets all giddy when you’re around and although it’s not the jumpy, squealing giddy, it’s certainly one shown through happy greetings and continuous conversations that seem to be never ending. (you don’t mind though)
makes up random appointments and checkups for the smallest things just to see you and gets very, very excited whenever you decide to come to visit him without his knowledge. nearly drops everything just to attend to you.
he talks to archimedes so much about you that his precious pet basically knows who you are based off his owners reactions and automatically flies to you whenever you enter his lab. that bird is a lot smarter than you think. they get along with you pretty well and medic melts whenever he sees you talk to his birds like he does and play with them.
Sniper:
bless his heart, the poor man will literally faint around his crush. just the sight of them flusters him to his core, and don’t even get me started on their little habits and that godforsaken smile. [hes literally almost died when they grinned at him]
he’s already so reserved and quiet as he is, but around them, it’s even worse. he’s always so scared he’s gonna scare them away or say something stupid, but he eventually lets go of the fear and tries to muster up the courage to talk to you.
once he does, he spends a lot of his time with you, often inviting you out to drive around with him or just simply sit outside and enjoy the breeze. he talks a lot more than usual and though he doesn’t completely open up about his past just yet, he does indirectly hint that he trusts you more than anyone in his life.
lots of sleepless nights when he realizes he’s in love. he does everything to take you off his mind but all fails in the end and he’s kept wide awake thinking about what you two could be. from then on, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep his cool around you and silently begs you’ll confess one day or he’ll lose it.
Engineer:
sweetheart mode: activated. like it’s not a big switch up, since he’s naturally a gentleman but it’s noticeable enough. you’ll notice that your nicknames will start slowly forming to more romantic ones and how he blushes with a smile everytime it leaves his lips.
the other mercs can tell when dell has a crush; he blushes a lot more than usual and they catch him smiling more than once by himself. they realize it when you approach him and he automatically fixes himself to look presentable without a second breath. his voice also changes to a much happier and giddy tone, it’s so cute!
stares at you from a distance a lot or whenever you’re distracted with something. half of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing so but once he catches himself, he blushes and looks away, silently telling himself to quit it. often you’ll catch him staring at you, but you ignore it for his sake and laugh to yourself when he smiles back and waves shyly.
Spy:
takes a long while before he actually accepts the crush, seeing that he’s a very secretive and reserved person but once he does, you best believe you’ll be spoiled and loved by this man. lots of gentleman behavior!! opening doors, buying you gifts, giving you his coat, and all that fancy stuff.
teases you a lot more than he should; he enjoys your reactions. he’ll lean in close enough where your fingers brush slightly, tilt your chin up when he talks to you and makes intense eye contact while doing so. whenever he gets too close or the moment gets too tense, he backs away with a smirk and pretends as if nothing happens.
he listens to you and anything you have on your mind. his door is literally open for you 24/7 and even if you come knocking at 3 am, he’ll let you in and listen to what you have to say. you think he’s not listening cause he’s very unresponsive but when you’re finished and about to leave, he gives really good advice and tells you quietly that he’s there for you in an indirect way. depending how close he is to you, he’ll let out an experience or two about him to put you at comfort and as thanks for confiding in him. he then walks you back to your room with a simple nod and goodnight.
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escapetodreamworld · 3 years
Text
Love is blind
Colette Marchant x Reader
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Words 1880
A/n I originaly had a much longer idea in mind for an obsessive Colette fic but I decided to hold off on that idea, if y'all want it maybe I'll get around to writing it sometime this year.
Warnings, obsessive behavior, and maybe a slight controlling behavior. I don't think there's anything else but let me know if I forgot something.
Requested by @simplaif
Taglist ( @medeliadracon )
Max Medici selling his circus to V.A. Vandemere might've been the best thing to ever happen to you. You, your brother Holt, your niece and nephew and the rest of the circus all moved to Dreamland Amusement Park. You know the only reason you're here is because of Dumbo, the flying elephant you and the kids have been taking care of, but you're still happy to be here. 
The best thing about moving here was Colette, the beautiful trapeze artist. Ever since you met her, back at the old circus, when she came with Vandemere to see Dumbo, you haven't stopped crushing on her.
You're starting to get the impression she might like you back, there are things she does that make you wonder. Like when you catch her staring at you or when Vandemere showed you to your new rooms and they were next to Colette's and she smirked at you as she passed by, and then now, she kept eye contact with you while she practiced her trapeze.
You and Colette were the only one in the practice tent, You had shooed the kids and Holt off, Vandemere gave the kids passes to go on all the rides, Colette was getting better at riding Dumbo so You and Holt decided the kids and him could run off and have fun before Dumbo's first show, tonight.
You watch as Colette and Dumbo fly around the room once more before landing, Colette hops off Dumbo. Dumbo runs over to you immediately, nearly knocking you over, you kneel down and start petting him. Colette clears her throat, getting your attention, you look up to see her staring at you rather intensely. "What do you think, are we ready for tonight?" Colette asks, never taking her eyes off you.
"The two of you are improving a lot, but I think your bond could be closer." You say, looking at Dumbo then her again, you continue. "Dumbo knows you, but he doesn't have a relationship with you, you're just the lady that rides on his back. There's no friendship between you too." You explain, scratching behind Dumbo's ears while he leans into your side.
Colette huffs. "And how am I supposed to build a closer bond in just a few hours?" The French woman's visibly annoyed that you're critiquing her performance, you roll your eyes. "Come here." You say, gesturing her over. Once she's close enough you grab her hand, pulling her down to kneel beside you, then you guide her hand to the spot on Dumbo's head he loves having scratched.
After a minute of giving dumbo love and affection he rolls over to cuddle closer to Colette, causing her to genuinely smile. As she continues petting Dumbo you take the moment to stare at her, taking in her beauty. She catches you, you snap your head back down to watch Dumbo, hoping she doesn't think you were really staring at her. You start berating yourself for being stupid, but you feel a hand on your knee.
You look up to see her staring intensely at you again, your heart starts beating so loudly your scare she'll hear it. Colette leans in slightly causing you to let out a shaking breath, making Colette smirk and lean closer, she glances down at your lips then back up to look into your eyes. You're so nervous you can't even lean forward to close the distance between you. Just as you feel Colette breath ghost across your lips the doors open, causing you both to pull away quickly.
Vandemere walks in followed by his bodyguard, Vandemere looks at us on the ground and asks. "Why aren't you practicing?" He's clearly annoyed we're not. You clear your throat "Dumbo's been flying all day, he needs to rest before tonight's performance." You say, voice a little shaky. You see Colette smirking in the corner of your eye.
Vandemere nods "Ah yes well, I came to talk to you anyway, about something important. There's going to be a red carpet before tonight's show, a few reporters and photographers, and I want YOU on my arm tonight." Both you and Colette say "what" at the same time, you're shocked and nervous about the idea, Colette's angry.
"Shouldn't your girlfriend accompany you on the red carpet?" You ask, look from Vandemere to Colette. "No, I don't want Colette being seen until Dumbo and her's performance. And I want Dumbo's trainer there." Vandemere says, growing annoyed.
You try once more to be out of this. "My brother is also Dumbo's trainer, so are the kids."
"The kids are too young for these kinds of things, and your brother doesn't have as pretty of a face as you." Vandemere says, trying to be charming. You sigh in defeat, and agree to do it. Vandemere claps his hands together excitedly. "Wonderful, I already have some seamstresses in your room, so let's go get you into a gown for tonight." And quickly ushers you out of the tent.
You spend the next few hours trying on countless dresses and getting your hair and makeup done, until you're finally ready. You're nervous but you're able to get through all the interviews with a smile, "you're almost done" Vandemere whispers to you while you pose for pictures. You start to relax, happy you've gotten through this with nothing to bad happening, but then Vandemere does something stupid, he leans down and kisses you. A short quick peck on the lips, you immediately pull away, and storm off, praying no one took a photo of it.
You go find Holt and the kids in the main tent, backstage getting ready for Dumbo's performance. Luckily Colette's nowhere to be seen, you don't know if you can face her right now, Holt asks if you're okay and you lie saying you are.
The night ends in more chaos, there wasn't a net during the performance, Dumbo slipped and almost caused Colette to fall. Then Dumbo flew out of the tent and found his mother in a wild animal exhibit, and Milly ran off. After finally finding Milly, you start the long processes of walking her to her rooms then walking to yours. Somewhere between finding Dumbo and finding Milly you broke a heel. So you're walking barefoot, once you're finally in your room, you strip off your dress and fall into bed.
You wake to a banging noise coming from somewhere close by, you roll over in bed curling into your blankets, trying to ignore it. After a minute with no signs of the sounds stopping you get up to see where it's coming from and if you can make it stop, you grab a robe tying it tightly around yourself before going to investigate the noise. Upon entering the main lounge area you find out the noise is coming from someone bang on your door, assuming it's Holt, you march angrily to the door, ready to tell him to go away.
You yank the door open, to find a very angry Colette, holding today's newspaper. You can't read the newspaper because of how she's holding it, but you assume it's about her performance and that's why she's mad. Sighing you opening the door wider signaling for her to come in, she does and as soon as you close the door your back is slammed into it. Colette's body pressing yours to the door one hand on the door by your waist the other by your head, you're shocked, unable to comprehend what's happening. Colette's eyes burning with anger and something else, her almost ragged breath hitting your face.
You're a little worried but that doesn't stop the feeling burning in your lower stomach, you start to squirm but don't make an effort to move away. Colette notices this causing her to grin, she pushes herself closer to you and ghosts her lips against yours, never letting your lips touch even when you try closing the distance. "Colette." You whimper, pleading with her. Her grin only grows. "Aww you poor thing, you're so desperate for me." Colette coos, teasing you. causing you to go weak. Colette moves to your neck, her breath hitting it, and you can feel her teeth graze your jaw. You whimper again, causing Colette to chuckle against your throat.
Colette moves closer to your ear. "Just say the magic word." She whispers, seductively. Then continues teasing you. "Please." You gasp, desperately. You're not sure you can take much more of her teasing. Colette wastes no time, moving her hands from the wall to your face and kisses you, pulling you closer to her. You kiss her back immediately, melting into her. You grab onto her shoulders, steading yourself. Colette's tongue slips into your mouth, exploring, dominating. When Colette starts to pull away she bites your bottom lip pulling on it before releasing it and you.
Your gasping for air you didn't know you needed, still on cloud 9 from the kiss. Colette leans back, a grin on her face as she admirers you. Her hands still resting on your face, she caresses your cheeks with her thumbs. Her grin widens, you see on her face that she just had a thought, you start to ask but she beats you to it.
"You seem to have enjoyed this kiss more than yours last night." She says, smugly. And traces your bottom lip with her thumb. You're shocked, you really thought no one had seen it. Colette raises an eyebrow at your stunned expression, then proceeds to pick up the paper she must've dropped when she pushed you against the wall, and read from an article. "...After my talk with V.A. Vandemere and the lovely flying elephant trainer, Miss (Y/l/n). I witnessed a moment between them, a kiss, one that ended with Miss (Y/l/n) storming off…" Colette finishes reading it and looks up at you. 
You blush, embarrassed that someone not only saw but wrote about it. "I um.. Did you read the part where it says I stormed off." You say weakly, avoiding eye contact.
"I did." Colette says, annoyed. But somehow you know it's not you she's annoyed at. You chance a look at her, but when you do you're caught in her intense stare, unable to look away. "Please don't be mad, I didn't like it." You say, trying to reassure her.
Colette lightens up on her stare, she comes closer to you again. "I know baby, I just don't like it when people touch things that belong to me." Colette coos, and gently grabs your chin. "You do belong to me, don't you?" Colette asks, her voice low. Almost daring you to say no.
If you weren't so in love with her you might've been able to tell how dangerous this was, might've questioned the tone she used, maybe you would've seen the way she stared at you when you weren't aware. Maybe you'd question why your room is next to hers or why it's so far away from your brother's when you know there's vacant rooms closer. But you're in love, you don't notice any of it.
You look at Colette with so much love and adoration, and tell her what she wanted to hear. "Yes."
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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years
Note
It's Nilnaea! Considering that elves physically cannot handle guilt, how did Sophie survive her first twelve years without shutting down? There's no way she could have avoided feeling guilty or remorseful over something when she was living with humans. Guilt is impossible to avoid--doubly so when she's clearly living with some pretty severe anxiety and depression. I can easily imagine her feeling guilty over causing her parents anxiety.
Not to mention, in the first book, she feels guilty over cheating on her alchemy exam without showing signs of psychic (I don't know how else to put it) strain. Do you think she could be immune to this because of her genetic engineering, or is it nature-versus-nurture? In the case of genetic engineering, the implications of the Black Swan having information that Vespera tortured humans to get is very interesting. (On that note, in Unlocked, there's a mention of Sophie wanting the Nightfall experiment information to go public. I really want that to happen!)
hello, Nilnaea! thanks for your patience as I work my way through my asks!! this is actually a question that's bugged me for a while, I've just never really talked about it, so it's nice to see someone else bringing it up! I thought it was just something no one else really cared about, as I have a tendency to focus on unimportant details.
like? humans are inevitably going to make mistakes and feel guilt over them, so it just doesn't make sense to me that Sophie could go her whole life without feeling guilty over something. Even just the idea of Elves being unable to handle guilt itself raises so many questions for me
thought: perhaps a lot of the poor behavior (judgement and scorn) exhibited by so many elves is a product of no guilt. in some situations, guilt is how you learn. intense emotional reactions and feeling remorseful for your actions can really make an impression on someone and alter their future behavior. some of the most important social lessons I learned (as someone who isn't good as socializing and frequently makes mistakes) have been through fucking up, sometimes awfully, and the resulting guilt is what prevented me from doing anything like that ever again. my inability to recognize how I affected others has severally hurt (emotionally) other people, which is why I'm so careful with what I say now. but if elves don't have that, if they're taught not to acknowledge how their action's affects make them feel, they never get that internal feedback or learning experience. so they just keep being shitty to each other eternally.
also, you're very right. she's clearly got something like anxiety/depression going on, or at the very least she's relatable to those of us who have those disorders. even just at the beginning of book one I think she felt guilty for all the stress and trouble she consistently brought to her parents as the gifted kid. she already knew how her mothers sentence would end (the "I just wish you were normal like your sister") so i'm assuming that's happened before. The guilt she'd feel just for existing differently and not understanding why (very appealing character for neurodivergent people) would be crippling. it can take so much work to look at yourself and just accept you're never going to fit in the way everyone else does, and that it's not a bad thing and you can live a perfectly fine life without fitting in like that. but especially at that age (for some reason middle school age--and specifically 7th grade) is absolute torture emotionally).
oh! i'd forgotten about the alchemy exam thing--the story has come a long way since then. I think a broken mind is both a combination of time and intensity of the guilt experienced, as Elwin said Alden's mind broke because it was so much guilt that he let fester for so long. So perhaps because she recognized the guilt and immediately rectified the situation, it wasn't there long enough for it to really impact her. But that does bring me back to the nd vibes she gives off in her childhood, as I think that's enough stress/guilt over a long enough period of time that she should've broken (shout out to anyone else whose mind would've broken as a child if they were an elf, cause I know I would've).
okay okay hang on, going back to what I was saying about guilt being a way to learn things, that could tie into your nature-vs-nurture suggestion. If sophie was raised human, she probably was taught how to manage and regulate her emotions in such a way that she could learn from her guilt and use it to better herself, because I don't believe for a second she was good in social situations and probably said some things she later felt guilty about. So perhaps her human upbringing protects her from the catastrophe that is elven guilt. But I could also see it being the genetic engineering, as she's shown to interact with emotions differently than anyone else when it comes to her inflicting. Perhaps her ability to inflict positive emotions proves that she doesn't interact with her feelings or process things in an elvin way, instead taking a human approach that protects her. Though we could also attribute that to nature vs nurture.
as for the human experiments, I think it would be super interesting to see what happens. I don't think that horrible history should be hidden or that elves should be allowed to continue to feel like they're superior, but just what would happen would be fascinating to read. it would rock the elvin world to the core, which is why Bronte said it shouldn't be released. But its also embarrasing to them, because they don't like experimenting on things. The whole thing with genetic purity and all that, so to know that it's such a huge part of their history and they actually weren't justified in cutting the humans off would be such a shift.
the classification of humans as no longer an intelligent species (which is a whole conversation on it's own) would be suddenly without reason, elves taking advantage of this power they granted themselves. i don't know if they could be reincorporated, but it would badly affect the elves. There's just so much to consider and i'm running low on time atm but this is an absolutely fascinating discussion so thank you so much for bringing it up
Nilnaea, you have some excellent observations!! thank you so much for sharing them with me!!
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novantinuum · 3 years
Link
Fandom: Steven Universe
Rating: Teen Audiences
Words: 2.2K~
Summary: A series of shorts detailing what might’ve happened in the moments after I Am My Monster, told from six different points of view.
Greg apparently had a LOT on his mind, because this was supposed to be short and instead it’s over 2000 words, ahah. Final chapter!
If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3
Chapter warning: Allusions to past non-canon character suicide.
____
Chapter 6: Greg
Hours pass.
Bismuth makes quick and quiet work of replacing the cracked slider door in Steven’s room while he sleeps, and secures a thick tarp over the open front of the house to keep the coastal breeze somewhat at bay until she can finish her repairs to the windows and siding. She warns that might take a day or two. Garnet, meanwhile, busies herself the rest of the afternoon and evening fielding all of the Diamonds’ frazzled calls, and reassuring them of the boy’s current stability. Pooling their knowledge, Dr. Maheswaran and Peridot make sure to confirm that. Beyond some minor scarring, neither his organic or Gem half seems to exhibit any serious physical health conditions in consequence of what happened today, news which works to ever so slightly lift the air of the household. With no other concrete tasks to complete, Pearl, Amethyst, Lapis, Connie, and Greg all rotate between sweeping debris off the floor, wandering the beach to mentally recuperate, and dutifully sitting at Steven’s side as he rests. It may not sound like a lot, but alas the level of emotional labor demanded by such a situation is immense.
All in all, the sun’s long since dipped below the horizon by the time Greg finally collapses onto the mattress laid out in the back of his van, craving if but a moment of privacy and respite from all the chaos. It’s been... an insufferably long day, to put it lightly. Busy. Tons of cleaning, and intercepting nosy neighbors, and bedside monitoring...
He offered to take the first night shift watching Steven a few minutes ago, but Pearl must’ve noticed the dark circles creeping ever wider under his eyes, because she proceeded to gently overturn his offer and remind him of humanity’s daily sleep requirement. And she’s right, of course. He can’t stay up as long as he used to in his twenties anymore. Plus, he probably deserves some time to himself after everything that’s transpired. There’s plenty of Gems left in the house who can keep watch, after all. Steven will be fine for a few hours. Surely nothing else can happen when he’s asleep, right?
 Right??
Exhaustedly slumping against the side wall, Greg offers a glassy, vacant stare at the contacts list of his phone, roughly wiping the damp from his cheeks with his other hand as his thumb hovers over one of the numbers. Does he dare drag someone else into this whole situation? Surely the kinder solution would be to refrain from widening the circle any more, from letting anyone else learn about today’s harrowing events. And yet if he fails to find a proper outlet for the raw emotions all of this has violently hauled to the surface, he fears he just may suffer a mental break himself, repressed memories bursting like a vicious flood through the dam he desperately tried to seal them behind all those years back. Much of this is just... far too familiar.
His phone slips right through his trembling hands as the cruel reality of what he witnessed today finally begins to carve its indelible presence in his mind. A strained sob leaking from between his tightly pursed lips, he buries his head between his knees, clutching at the worn bottom hem of his jean shorts like an infant to a parent’s finger. Small. Vulnerable.
Helpless.
His son... oh stars, his only son, he—
He can’t talk about any of this to the Gems; they wouldn’t wholly grasp the uniquely human nature of his concerns. And he doesn’t feel comfortable discussing these matters with Dr. Maheswaran, especially not after the stern words she dealt to him back at the hospital. He’s burdened her enough already, by this point. No, there’s only one fellow human he feels close enough with to engage in this sort of conversation.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he reaches for the phone he dropped on the mattress. Turns it on. Nervously clamps down on his bottom lip as he selects his cousin’s contact and dials.
The passing heartbeats slamming against his ribs are almost nauseating in their needy clamor as he waits, his calloused fingers tapping against the thick rubber of his phone case. Andy’s never been a particularly tech savvy guy, so honestly, it’s well within reason he might not even carry his phone on his person to answer. And that’d be fine, really. In fact, he might even prefer it, since he’s still not confident he’s emotionally prepared to discuss any of this at this precise moment, anyways. But just as he’s beginning to undergo mental preparations for what on Earth he might leave as a voicemail message, his older family member finally picks up.
“Greg?” Andy’s gravelly voice rings through, sounding somewhat tinny through their connection. “Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s the ol’ Universe family unit doin’?”
“Not great, honestly,” he narrowly manages in response, his throat constricting tight. “That’s kinda why I’m calling, if you have the time to listen?”
“Heh. I’m a drifter, you know I ain’t got no schedule. Carry on.”
“Well... geeze, how do I put this. There was, uh... a bit of an incident today. With Steven.”
“An incident?” his cousin questions, marked worry immediately painting his tone. “The kid okay??”
He falls silent for a few seconds upon this question, threading his hyperactive digits through the split ends in his hair on automatic, a stress-induced habit. “Unclear,” he says, a slight quiver making itself intimately known in his words. “I mean, physically, at the moment, yes, but—“
He cuts off once more. It suddenly occurs to him that little of today’s events would make sense to Andy without providing the appropriate context. Or, at least, what little context he’s capable of giving as a father. It’s still terrifying to admit the truth to himself— that he doesn’t possess the full story. That he hasn’t been paying close enough attention. That, in many ways, he willfully blinded himself to all the troubling events transpiring around his son throughout the years, foolishly believing that if he didn’t involve himself... that if he simply stayed out of the Gems’ hair... everything would go to plan, and Steven would finally receive the training he needed. He didn’t expect things would grow so complicated.
He didn’t expect that his teenage son would have to march into battle carrying nothing but his wits and a shield time and time again.
With a weary sigh and a quick apology, to which Andy brushes off, Greg begins to weave a verbal picture of everything that’s transpired across the last few days. First, the hospital call. Rushing home from tour, only to find his son giant and flushed pink, literally filling an entire room with the sheer volume of his trauma. The shattered x-ray in his chart, hinting towards hidden hurts that— before all this— even Steven seemingly hadn’t processed or quantified. Then, the road trip. The unwanted reminders of his childhood. That blasted CD. His expression sobers as he describes the fateful argument they had on the road home, one which lead to his son accidentally breaking the steering wheel and flipping the van. Next... his disappearance. No texts for four whole days, which is so unlike him. He was worried sick. And the next time he saw him, he was eight feet tall, glowing, and painfully manic in behavior, with each new sentence spilling from his mouth revealing an even more heartbreaking picture of the sort of poor mental state he’d spiraled into. It was nothing short of a father’s worst nightmare, propelled into horrifying, vivid reality.
Nothing in this corner of the galaxy could’ve prepared him for the primal surge of terror and anguish he was engulfed within when that nightmare distorted and transformed even further.  
His only son... colossal and coated in thick scales and spines, sclera black as night... roughly clawing at this unfamiliar form, smashing his skull against the cliffside, roaring with an inner pain so primal that the sound now haunts the depths of his very soul—
“I- you remember what happened with cousin Jo, back when we were young?” Greg says softly once he’s caught Andy up with the details of situation, his voice frail and unsteady, the tone of a man helplessly marooned amidst his anxieties. “Before she was sent to that mental rehab place? Well, I’m... with the addition of Gem magic, it almost felt like that. I mean, h-he’s fine for now, we have him resting, but... but I’m just so scared he won’t come out of this, like her, a-a-and that one day he’ll—“
A mewling sob bubbles up in his throat, swiftly severing that train of thought. N-no. No, he refuses to even utter that horrible idea out loud! After all, a world without Steven in it isn’t worth envisioning.
Andy’s eventual response— albeit tinged with a justified shade of awkwardness, given the emotionally charged nature of this conversation— is filled with genuine compassion, and for that he’s dearly thankful.
“Aw, hell... Greg, I’m- I’m so sorry. I, uh- I could fly over, if any of ya’ need me? For emotional support, or whatever?”
Upon this kind offer, he inhales deep to steady his breath, and wipes away dewy beads of moisture from the corner of his eyes, desperately hoping that he can mitigate the pitiful wavering of his voice over the phone. He’s gotta fight to reliably keep some form of composure in front of other people, damnit. His kid can’t have his dad breaking down around him too, of course.
“No, you’ve got places to be,” he replies evenly, pressing his thumb and pointer against one of his aching temples. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You ain’t asking,” he retorts, the eye-roll evident in his tone. “I’m offering. Listen- family takes care of family, y’hear? And I’m only about a day’s flight away, anyways. It’s really the least I could do.”
He sighs. Absentmindedly tugs at a thick strand of his hair. Offers a long, contemplative stare at the rickety age-worn handle affixed to the inside of the van’s back doors. Truth be told— ignoring his deep-seated guilt at dragging Andy into all this to begin with— he’d love having another family member around to embrace, especially a human one who can more deeply understand the crux of his anxieties about this delicate situation. But in the end, he shouldn’t be prioritizing his own feelings and comfort. He’s not the one in crisis, his son is.
Desperately hoping he’s making the right choice, Greg flexes his fingers, and acquiesces to the offer, on one condition: only if Steven consents to having visitors, once he’s awake.
Andy hums in approval. “Understood. Don’t wanna overload the poor guy with any surprise visits, or whatever.”
“Yeah. The last thing I want to do is push him too hard, too fast.”
He pauses, braving waves of parental grief to spend a moment to reflect on Steven’s emotional progression over the past few months... a stray negative comment here, an unusually forlorn mannerism there... All of them events that, in isolation, wouldn’t point to anything more than your standard ‘teenage angst,’ but when observed in strong, unceasing patterns, begin to reveal deeply harrowing truths about the state of an individual’s self-image. How did he never notice? Why wasn’t he there to catch him in his fall?
“I think he hates himself,” he says quietly, his voice hitching up at the end. “He didn’t say so directly, but- but I can sense it. And I don’t know how to help him, I-I... I don’t know if I can.”
“Nonsense,” his cousin scoffs, “‘course ya’ know what to do! What does any good father worth their salt give their sons?”
Unable to evade the momentary temptation of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, he slumps back against the wall, giving a weak shrug that his current audience would never see.
“I dunno, maybe a stable, safe childhood? Not growing up poor as dirt in a van?”
“No, you numbskull,” Andy immediately cuts back, “you love on ‘em and support ‘em just as much as you always have! Y’ show him that you’re always gonna be there for him, and that he can trust you with anything.”
“But I haven’t always been there for him,” he exclaims petulantly. “That’s the whole problem! That’s one of the reasons he ended up like this.”
“Greg,” he says, his voice softer this time. “Listen to me, ain’t nobody perfect, okay? We’ve all made our mistakes with people. Me? More than most. But what we can’t do is let those mistakes cloud what’s happening right now. Y’know, that’s one of the hard lessons I’ve had to learn over the past two years, that you can’t always make things about you. Because right now, it’s about him. He’s dealin’ with some hard feelings, and he needs all of our help. So, let’s help him. Together. We’ll start with one foot in front of us, and we can take it from there. All right?”
Closing his weary, exhausted eyes and pressing his thumb firm against his still-aching temple, Greg Universe gives a long sigh and finally concedes to the reality that— just as he’s not solely responsible for the decline of his son’s mental state— no man should be an island when it comes to the task of supporting one’s journey towards recovery. As with everything, the extended Universe family unit will face the future together, hand-in-hand. Step-by-step.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I think that’s do-able.”
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gameimagines · 4 years
Note
Hello, could I ask for headcanons of what Raihan, Leon, and Milo would do if their s/o was being threatened by a Trainer who was salty that they lost to s/o?
Requested by: this lovely anon
Fandom: Pokémon SWSH
Notes: oH THIS IS GOOD. Love me some protective boys. Also I wrote this like a bullet point scenario?? Idk it’s a little weird.
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Galar Boys protecting their s/o from a sore loser
Raihan
You were out with Raihan when an overly enthusiastic fan insisted on challenging you. You tried to politely turn down his request, telling the trainer that you were on a date and that it wouldn’t be fair to Raihan for you to accept a challenge right now.
Unfortunately, Raihan off handedly mentioned that he wouldn’t mind seeing you take this guy on. You appreciated the support but dangit, Raihan, you didn’t want to battle right now.
Raihan’s comment made the trainer even more persistent and so you begrudgingly agreed.
Raihan cheered you on the entire time. If only the trainer was as good natured as your boyfriend. The challenger talked trash before and during the match, boasting regardless of how the battle was going. Raihan didn’t seem too phased, you’d put this cocky punk in his place.
Despite your opponents bragging, the match didn’t last long. In fact, you only had to use one Pokémon. Your trusty Appletun sweeped the opposing team.
Before you even finished calling back your dragon type, the trainer was marching towards you.
“Tch,” he sneered, “if you think I’m giving you money for your lucky, underhanded win, you’re dumber than your Appletun.”
“Excuse me?” You and Raihan spoke in unison.
“Yeah, I bet you knew I used mostly water types. Bloody unfair to choose type advantage instead of using a real strategy.” Once he got within arms distance, the challenger grabbed your collar with aggressive force.
You weren’t sure when Raihan called out his Duraludon but boy were you thankful to see Raihan pry the unwanted hands off while backed up with the intimidating steel type.
“I don’t know why the beat down Y/N gave you wasn’t enough for you, so let me give it a try.” Raihan leered down at the defeated trainer. His Duraludon (which was surprisingly in tune with the situation) let out a metallic growl for emphasis.
Upon seeing Raihan’s anger, the challenger began to back down. “B-Back off. My Pokémon have all fainted, just let me go.”
“Yeah, that’s for the best. I don’t want to see you anymore,” Raihan sneered. After you watched the man scurry away, you turned back to Raihan who was giving you a sympathetic look. “You’re just too good, people can’t handle it.” He grabbed your hand with a delicacy that was absent during the previous encounter.
“Thanks, Rai.”
Milo
Milo was worried when you were almost twenty minutes late to dinner. The meetup spot wasn’t far from your place, what could be keeping you?
When you don’t answer his call, Milo begins to walk to your home, hoping your abscence was caused by something mundane.
He began to smile when heard your voice in the distance, but once he came closer it fell from his face.
A loud, visibly angry woman was screeching profanities at you. You seemed mostly composed, but Milo could see your hands clenching and unclenching - the woman’s aggressive behavior was making you nervous. You hadn’t even noticed his presence.
“I already said, you don’t have to give me money for the win. I’m sorry I’ve upset you but you did challenge me,” your words were steady but your voice was soft. “I told you I only had my starting Pokémon with me and I warned you that my Cinderace was strong.”
“You’re not forgiven! Embarrassing me like that with your brute of a Pokémon is vile! You should be ashamed of yourself! You - you bloody mistake of a person!” She howled.
Milo couldn’t stand to hear any more of it. You clearly warned the challenger and the woman was wildly overreacting. No one should say such awful things after a battle, especially to someone as sweet as you. “Ma’am, that’s quite enough.” Milo moved himself in front of you. “You should be ashamed of yourself for such poor behavior. That’s no way to treat a fellow trainer.”
The woman recognized the gym leader, an embarrassed blush covered her scrunched up face. “Hmph!” She exclaimed indignantly. “You don’t know the situation! Stay out of it!”
It was odd to see Milo, who’s normally so sweet, so fierce. He acted as a protective barrier, both physically and verbally. “I’m not leaving. Now you apologize or I’m going to have to call the trainer’s associate and report you.”
The woman paled. After a minute of stunned silence she let out the most disingenuous apology you had ever heard and walked away.
Once she was out of sight, Milo turned to you with clear concern written all over his freckled face. “Are you okay, sweetheart? She didn’t hurt you, did she? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner!”
He bombarded you with questions, pulling you close and holding you tight to his chest.
“I’ll never let anyone hurt you!”
Leon
As the undefeated Champion, Leon had grown accustomed to sore losers. People were constantly convinced that Leon had somehow cheated, that there was no way he was honestly that strong. He had complained, and sometimes laughed, at the ridiculous accusations and behavior that other trainers had upon losing.
And on more than one occasion, you expressed sympathetic anger at your boyfriend’s challengers. But he assured you that it was just a part of the gig. That no trainer had ever taken it too far with him.
But with you? It was a different story.
After a particularly quick exhibition match, you had blown a contestant’s team out of the water. Leon wasn’t surprised, he knew you would be victorious.
He also wasn’t surprised when the opposing trainer refused to shake your hand. The audience booed and Leon was disappointed in the other trainer, but sometimes that’s how it went.
Leon moves onto the field to announce the next matchup when things took an unexpected turn. Your opponent challenged you to a second match.
“No,” you refused, “I won fair and square. I’m going to prepare for the next match.”
That’s when things began to escalate. The trainer pushed an accusational finger in your face, “You think you’re too good for my team, huh? What a load of bollocks! I’ll take you on with my fists then, you-” the audience screamed. Leon didn’t hear what profanity the contestant called you, but it didn’t matter.
“You think threatening Y/N is going to make you seem tougher? You’re a fool if you think I’m going to let this slide.” Leon put his arm out and forcibly lowered the trainer’s hand out of your face. “You’re done here.” Leon’s yellow eyes narrowed.
Leon was pretty intimidating. After a few moments of silence, the angry contestant sulked off the field and right out of the stadium.
Leon turned to you and placed an arm on your shoulder. His thumb ran circles over your uniform. “You good?” He whispered, quiet enough so the microphones couldn’t catch it.
You nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”
Leon smiled at you before lacing his hand through yours and raising your arms up into the air.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” He boomed, voice filled with pride, “your victor!”
The audience went wild.
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vexillumalbum · 4 years
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Hello! Whenever you do open requests, could you do the Insecure MC headcanons with Lucien and Victor as well? They’re my favorites so I’d really appreciate it. Loved those headcanons with Kiro and Gavin!
Hello to you too Anon! I struggled a bit with writing these so they can be a bit off. I hope you’ll forgive me. 
Victor’s HC I treated a little too personal (let’s say I’m in a similar situation as MC is here, because my partner is “wealthy” and I am not as much and when I tell you some rich people are ruthless... yeah they are) so I got a little carried away. I then tried to rewrite it but it just got worse so I decided to post it like that. 
As to Lucien - I don’t know him very well. I only have a few of his karmas, and I played only two of his dates. I do not dislike him, he is just not my type in otome games. 
With that being said I hope you’ll still be able to enjoy these HCs. Have a great day/night and please stay safe! 
*slight spoilers*
“You are gorgeous* with Victor and Lucien:
Victor
“Are you okay in there?” A deep voice from behind the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You quickly wiped your face with a towel, which you then threw into a basket of dirty laundry and looked in the mirror, hoping that you would not see a tearful woman with red eyes and swollen cheeks.
There is a reason, however, that they say hope is the mother of fools.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Give me a minute!” Your voice almost cracked and it took everything in you not to start crying again. You grabbed another towel, soaked it in cold water and started to vigorously tap it on your face to make the puffiness disappear. 
On the other side of the door was standing very worried Victor with his brows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line. He wasn’t deaf, he heard your sobs coming out of the bathroom a while ago and immediately wanted to know what’s wrong but knew you would not tell him right away. So leaned on the wall next to the door and waited for you to enter your shared bedroom.
Paler than a few minutes earlier you finally walked out with a tight smile plastered on your face. You rubbed your still-a-little-shaky hands on your silk robe to occupy them with something and get rid of the feeling of overwhelming nervousness.
♪ Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know ♪ (I’m sorry, I got carried away)
“Who are you trying to fool?” He knew. Of course he knew. 
“I’m tired, Victor. Can we please go to bed?”
“Not unless you tell me what’s bothering you.” He was giving you The Look™. This icy glare that he used at work that was basically saying „do as I say” and that every LFG employee was afraid of. You’ve seen The Look™ so many times now it didn’t bother you anymore but Victor didn’t even flinch when you tried to push past him in order to get to the bed. He was stubborn and you were   sick and tired of your own thoughts so you gave in.
Being the girlfriend of one of the most influential people in the country (*cough* the whole world *cough*) brought many advantages. Fancy business meetings, cruises on private yachts, beautiful views from hotel windows when you were traveling together for business trips. Not to mention how much love Victor gave you and how much he did for you privately, behind closed doors, where he showed you his tender loving side. 
But it also had many downsides. The people you two were mingling with were refined, elegant, sometimes you could even say stuck-up. And you felt like you didn’t belong there. Hell, you knew you didn’t.
Everything was a race between them. Who drove a better car, who had more investments, who knew more languages, who graduated from better university. Where was your place in this picture? 
You weren’t stupid, you were the boss of your own company, you were extremely strong-willed and dutiful, you worked hard, but somehow you still didn’t see yourself worthy of being Victor’s partner. 
In addition, there was the fact that Victor had little time for you - which of course you understood, he could not put his duties aside because of your whims - but somewhere inside you were still a bit upset.
Your boyfriend didn't know how to react. From the first day of your acquaintance, he saw you as someone confident, brave, not worried about failures, but only going forward. You managed to convince him HIM to give you and your company a chance. Never in a million years would he had guessed that under your tough exterior lay so many insecurities.
He held your shaking body in a tight embrace occasionally giving you a kiss on the crown of your head partially to calm you down and partially to calm himself down. He treated the fact that because of the self-doubt you brought yourself to the state where you cried when locked in a bathroom alone, as a private failure. 
Now he had to make up for every time he weren’t there with you. For you. 
You were used to lonely evenings spent in front of the TV with your favorite pudding (which compensated his absence a bit). So you were very surprised when a few days later he announced that from now on two evenings a week you would be obligated to spend together doing whatever you would like to.
Watching TV, playing piano, eating, having sex. You named it - he was down for it.
At banquets, when he saw your eyes begin to waver, he hugged you closer to his side or squeezed your hand a bit harder. He made you understand that he was next to you and did not intend to leave you. So you better not leave him
Oh, and if someone tried to offend you or your intelligence/appearance/mannerisms/whatever…
He would be with you in a minute and with the help of The Look™and his CEO voice he would let the poor thing know that the only person with whom something was wrong in the room was them.
Victor was not very good at comforting you with words, but his actions expressed more than a thousand of them. 
When you felt the need for self-pity, he brought you a cup of your favorite tea, covered your body with a blanket and hugged to himself, leaning your head against his sturdy chest. This way he made sure that you weren't alone with your problems. Sometimes he was also combing your hair with his fingers humming a melody he knew you loved, because you were constantly playing it on the piano. Like a parent calming their child down.
“Victor, thank you.” You said one time, your voice tired.
“Sleep, dummy. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 
He once lost you. He wasn’t going to risk it happening again. You were definitely the love of his life, the only person he would ever wait for. So if he had to wait for you to love yourself properly, so be it. 
Lucien
The spark of joy disappeared from your eyes some time ago. 
Lucien was a researcher, an observer, he knew when changes to your behavior occurred. He noticed them right away. 
How you were sabotaging yourself when something good happened to you. How you were dragging down all your accomplishments. How you became even harder on yourself to the point when you were falling asleep in different places because you were so fatigued. 
You were physically and emotionally drained but you kept going anyway cause if you stop, insecurities would eat you alive. 
“When are you going to tell me what’s been on your mind lately, butterfly?” A simple question asked during breakfast when he put a cup of chamomile tea in front of you made you almost choke on eggs you were currently chomping.
“Whatever you mean, Lucien…”
“I thought you were the one who said that a healthy relationship is based on honesty and openness. Weren’t you?”
This man. Seriously. 
“I didn’t think you’d be interested in that matter.”
“On the contrary. I am interested in about everything regarding your person.”
At that point you were sure he was aware of a mess you had inside your head. He gave it away by the way he grabbed your hand and wrapped his long fingers around yours, to later bring them to his lips and kiss each knuckle. It was a tender gesture, one he often did to lift your spirits.
You didn't quite want to explain everything to him, uncover all of your insecurities, but when he looked at you as penetrating as if he wanted to expose your soul as gently as possible, you couldn't refuse him. 
He held your hand all the time, didn’t let it go even when you rested your head on his shoulder while weeping.
To say that it broke Lucien's heart is an understatement. He knew everything he heard from you that morning. He had all this information, and yet to hear from you how much you did not believe in yourself, how much you loathed yourself, was a blow to him.
All he could do was gradually try to get you out of your bubble. He wanted to replace all that ugliness that you wore inside with something beautiful. 
Step one: A healthy mind in a healthy body. Who was supposed to know it better than a doctor?
As you struggled with drooping eyelids trying to perfect another report, which was impossible, Lucien's strong arms gently pulled you away from the desk and led you towards the bed. After several times, you even stopped protesting.
Chamomile tea has always been provided to you in stressful situations. Lucien even instructed Anna to prepare this tea for you at the company where he had no possibility of being.
Your boyfriend attached great importance to what you ate because it was a well-known fact that people with a diet rich in vitamins and omega-3 had a better mood. Oh no, no more junk food
Step two: exhibitions, galleries, theater, cinema, stargazing, watching the skylights, amusement park.
Between research and teaching at the university, Lucien took you to all the places you could have thought of. He took the replacement of ugliness with beauty quite literally. 
Your favorite place was a temporary butterfly exhibition at the Natural Museum, because there your boyfriend led you from a display case to a display case and was telling you passionately every interesting fact he knew about different species. How unguarded he became there was amusing but also very sweet.
“Did you know that this butterfly pups quite late and its wings are slightly smaller than the rest of the butterflies living in this area? This does not prevent him from being the most beautiful and useful of all of them.” He said pointing with one hand to one of the insects while the other was drawing small circles on the small of your back.
Did he just compared you to a butterfly?
Step three: a good ol’ love-making.
This man thought that if it doesn't reach you normally, it will hit you how wonderful you are through various positions in bed. Not only in bed
Good luck walking for the next few days
You gave Lucien’s life color, showed him that living with someone who cared about him and loved him was far better, happier. He was going to repay that favor now.
____________________________________________________
thank you so much for reading!
if you want to read more of my works they are here
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thefriedbird · 3 years
Text
Alright, hello! So I decided that last night after having a horrific anxiety attack, I was basically going to write two one shots based off a prompt I saw.
Yes, this is going to be a self-insert thing guys but you can replace the name with yours. There is not really much of a description other than that the character is disabled, she/her pronouns, wheelchair user with physical and mental health issues.
Overhaul is prob gonna be OOC since I’ve NEVER wrote him before. So be fucking warned.
ALSO I DID THIS ON A PHONE AND COULD NOT FIGURE OUT HOW TO DEAL WOTH THE TEXT CHANGING SHIT IT HONESTLY CONFUSED THE HELL OUTTA ME SO I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE.
Morning Kiss
Aliza has never been a morning person. Never has and never will. She couldn’t tolerate it when people chatted in the morning, hated the bright luminescent lights that were all over the Hassaikai compound, hated Nemoto’s early bird self, hated Rappa’s booming voice in the morning, and hated Deidoro’s early morning drinking, and even hated the avian friends she would adore... if it hadn’t been for their annoying incessant chirping in the wee hours!
But Aliza began to feel incredibly touch starved. She always settled for the private hand holding and cuddling, but she couldn’t help now feeling dissatisfied with him leaving her without as much as a goodbye.
Apparently, Chisaki had noticed. He was always incredible at reading people, even without needing Nemoto’s quirk to know that they’ve been lying. But he had an innate skill at reading Aliza like his favorite novel. At first, Chisaki was leaving sticky notes for his love to find. Giving her self-care reminders for the day, and telling her the schedule he set in place for her that day. Aliza would smile brightly reading them. “Remember to drink at least 3 liters of water.”
“Don’t neglect yourself today. I will know.”
“Stop biting your nails. It is unhygienic. You’ve practically chewed them til they’ve bled. I ordered more latex gloves and a nail polish that will help you stop chewing.”
Yeah, Chisaki had a blunt round-about way to display his affection. Yeah, he was over-protective and controlling. But it was something that Aliza didn’t mind.
All her life, Aliza lived without routine. She was reckless, often ill, neglected herself, and quite frankly didn’t understand how to take care of herself. It’s not like her parents really helped her with these things as a child. She was neglected and never learned. She lived impulsively and sporadically, and often times exhibited her self harming behavior unconsciously. She CRAVED touch, but also HATED it. She was never sure if that loving feeling would turn sour and hateful. Not that Chisaki would hurt her. But her traumas of the past had ate away at her for years, and it wasn’t stopping. It was with Chisaki’s discomfort for touch that made being around him easier than with the others at the compound. (Though when she first met him, she frankly thought of him as an arrogant selfish prick.) When Chisaki began courting her, he was heavily satisfied with their shared discomfort for touch. But both made an effort to each other to slowly at least get used to the other’s. It was a sign of their trust to each other and it was evidence of how much Chisaki COULD love. Aliza saw his protectiveness as endearing. To her, it was proof of how much he cared about her safety and well-being. His controlling behavior, she disliked and liked at the same time. On one hand she hates how Chisaki gives her a schedule HE created. But on the other, it gave her a routine. It gave her a sense of predictability, which was something she never had living in a toxic abusive household. Their love language may not be words, but it was touch despite their discomfort to it.They were learning how to love together. It’s not the first time Aliza had a love, but she had been used and abused to find comfort in what she saw as meaningless words. She was a “show it, not spout it.” Type of person. She’s had too many people say their love you’s to only disprove it later on. Whereas Chisaki never really loved another person before. He loved and cared for Pops, that was his parental figure. The one who saved him from the streets, and the man he thought he was indebted to. But loving someone intimately was entirely new. He only ever saw people as pawns for his goals, expendables because they have no other purpose. Aliza was his exception. She was his Angel. She was someone that he wanted to protect heavily. What initially started as his disdain for her in the beginning, somehow became affectionate.
So when Chisaki amped up his affection, Aliza was surprised. They had grown passed the phase where he and Aliza always asked each other if it was okay to be touched. Now, they did it without a single word needing to be said. But him giving her a brief kiss on her nape followed with a “good morning” wasn’t something she was used to.
“Was that alright?” Chisaki asked.
Aliza just smiled, “Yes, that was alright. Could you...maybe do that every morning?” “Yes. Anything for you, Angel”
First Kiss
hey were an unlikely couple. Quite frankly, Mimic, Nemoto, and Chronostasis had thought Aliza would be matter on the walls the first day Chisaki had met her. They weren’t expecting their boss to have Chrono and Nemoto bring the quirkless disabled woman into the meeting room for him to ask for his chance to court her.
They were surprised to say the least.
Overhaul was once routinely aggravated with Aliza, who was their secretary at the time, because she was ‘dirty’ and ‘filthy’. He saw her as another expendable, a disabled woman hired to map out his schedule, brief him on any upcoming meetings, and to handle gentle affairs with other heads. He didn’t think he would feel any form of intimacy toward her. That was until there were days she dressed up.
He admitted it to himself that she was beautiful. On the days she dressed up, she aired confidence, she radiated with joy, she was cleaner, she looked pure, she looked like an Angel. His grounded Angel. So when one of the lower Hassaikai members began stalking you, harassing you, and even had the audacity to TOUCH you. When he saw you having a full on panic attack because of the aggressive touching, that man was matter. For once, he didn’t feel bothered by the hives breaking out on his flesh. He was concerned about his Angel. His poor sweet Angel that was hyperventilating and sobbing hysterically in her wheelchair.
He had Chrono bring her into his office, where he tried to calm her. But Overhaul is a rather imposing and intimidating figure so Aliza couldn’t just calm down... But this man made the effort. He had Chrono bring her a water bottle while she sat silently in his office. When her tears stopped flowing, he noted she constantly looked out of it. As if she wasn’t there, it was just a shell staring at the floor. Her makeup was ruined and he hated it. He hated having what was his sullied and filthy.
“I’ll have Chrono send you to your room to bathe. You’re filthy.”
Aliza just stared at him, and when he notice her tearing up again. He felt that what he said was wrong and when she began to panic again spouting apologies frantically...
Aliza honestly thought she was gonna die the way he crouched down to look at her.
“I believe I said that wrong. He TOUCHED you. You are not filthy because you did something. You are filthy because HE did something. I will have no more tears. I will have Chrono come back to get you and you will take the rest of the day off, are we clear?”
That was two years ago. Aliza was the only person that was allowed to call him by his real name when they were alone together. She was also the only person allowed to touch him and see him without his mask. She no longer slept in her room. In fact the same day Chisaki asked to court her, he already had all her stuff in his room. Already having her sleep beside him the first day. He took care of her. He loved her. He would kill for her. Plain and simple.
Chisaki had never kissed someone. His mysophobia wouldn’t allow him. But he wanted to try it with his partner. They already have gotten used to touching each other, but anything extremely intimate he had never done.
It was when Aliza had dropped by his office to brief him on his schedule for the day, that he asked her.
“I wish to try to kiss you.”
Aliza looked up from her tablet in shock. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to break out in hives, love.”
Chisaki was already bending down over her, braking her wheelchair so she wouldn’t slide, his hands resting on the armrests, caging her in. “Yes.”
“O-oh, okay! I’m not stopping you!” Aliza smiled, blushing in shock at his forward ness, and setting down the tablet in her lap.
Chisaki unfastened his mask, setting it on his desk before gently taking off her own. Leaning forward, watching as Aliza closed her eyes he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. The chaste kiss caused him no issue, to his surprise. When he pulled away, he couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement when Aliza chased after his kiss for another.
He wasn’t sure how many trailed after his first kiss
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rainbowwing251 · 3 years
Text
Curiosity Tickled the Cat (Super Smash Bros. Tickle Fic)
A/N: I know I might be called “cringy” for doing this, but I’m doing it. I’m posting a fic a Lee!Shulk, but with a twist.
In this fic, Shulk is going to be part cat. In my headcanons, this means that he will be a normal person (or rather Hom), but he’ll have cat ears and a cat tail, and will exhibit some cat-like behavior. Other than that, he isn’t any different from his normal self.
You likely know the drill about romance and NSFW, so I’m not going to include those messages here.
Finally, I should let all of you know ahead of time that this is my first attempt at writing a fic like this (not a tickle fic, but a fic with a character that is part cat). I’m likely going to make some mistakes in my portrayal of cat Shulk, so I hope you can forgive me for that.
Well, here goes nothing… let's begin.
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Neither Cloud nor Shulk had any idea as to how they got into this situation.
For some reason that was never explained by Master Hand or Crazy Hand, the latter of the two hands decided to use his infinite power to transform some of the fighters into animal/Pokemon hybrids (only Red and Leaf got the latter). Cloud didn’t know who got turned into what hybrid other than Shulk, and to be honest, he’d rather not know.
Shulk was unfortunate enough to get caught up in the mess, and he was turned into a cat hybrid. As soon as he saw his tail and ears, he ran from the crowd that was in the middle of the Smash Colosseum, fearful of the humiliation that would've followed had anyone seen him. He ran into his room to hide, and not even two minutes later, he heard a knock on his door. Trembling as he opened the door, he found his “brother” on the other side of the door. The two of them stood in shock for thirty seconds before Cloud broke the silence.
“Shulk? What the hell happened to you?”
Shulk nearly ran out of the room in shame, but he knew that the merc wouldn’t insult or judge him for something that he didn’t have a say in, so he explained what happened.
“I see… Did Crazy Hand tell any of you guys why?”
“Nope. He didn’t even try to explain anything to us.”
“What about Master Hand?”
“He couldn’t even begin to explain Crazy Hand’s actions.”
“Hm… Well, this is an awkward situation…”
“I know…”
The older blonde noticed the apologetic look in the younger’s eyes.
“You alright?”
“Not really… I’m-“
“You don’t have to apologize.”
Shulk’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Was he really that easy to read?
“But I- I just- I know that you don’t like cats, so-“
“I never said that I disliked cats.”
“But you never said that you liked them, either…”
“True.” Cloud admitted, “I’m kind of… neutral towards them, to be honest.”
Shulk’s cat ears twitched in curiosity, causing him to blush as he asked his next question, “So you don’t like them… but you don’t hate them, either, right?”
“Yes.”
“Oh…” Shulk pondered Cloud’s answer for a bit, then felt his ears and tail droop as a sudden feeling of sadness came over him, “…does that mean that you’re indifferent towards me at the moment?”
“No. I’m just saying that I don’t care if you’re part cat or not, it’s not going to change my view on you.”
“O-oh!” He knew that statement was coming, but nonetheless, he still couldn’t help but blush again. The blush darkened as he felt his ears and tail shoot straight up.
Cloud couldn’t help but laugh a little when he saw that, realizing that he was enjoying this more than he initially thought he did.
“You’re rather expressive as a cat, huh?”
“No, I’m not!” Shulk felt his ears twitch a little, and his blush grew even darker as a result.
“You definitely are.” The older male took a few steps towards him before he spoke again. “Hm… how would you react if I did this?” He reached his hands out and scratched behind the heir’s cat ears.
“Wh-wait, what are y-you-“ The younger male was cut off by his sudden urge to purr, and he tried his best to fight it. Unsurprisingly, he failed, letting out a quiet, happy-sounding “mrrrrr”.
“So you can purr...” Cloud observed, concealing the fact that the purrs were melting his heart, “Now what would happen if I scratched behind your actual ears?”
He slowly moved his hands down to the back of Shulk’s Hom ears, which resulted in a shudder.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, that just… felt good, I guess?”
“I’m not surprised.” Cloud began to scratch behind his “brother’s” normal ears. “You like it when someone massages your scalp or neck.” He was about to follow up with a complement, but a light snicker tumbled out in between Shulk’s purrs.
“Oh? Is the cat a bit ticklish~?” The merc allowed himself to slip into his tickle monster persona, chuckling at the fear that flashed in the eyes of his soon-to-be victim.
“No! No, I-I’m not! Can you even tickle a c-cat?”
“You sure can, but they can’t laugh. However…” Cloud wore a sinister grin as he pushed Shulk onto the bed behind them and pinned him down by his wrists. “That only applies to normal cats, not cat-Hom hybrids. How unfortunate for you~!”
“Nonononono! Brother, don’t!”
“But I want to know if you’re a ticklish little kitten!” Cloud nearly let out an uncharacteristic whine as he teased the younger blonde.
“I’m not a kitten, and I’m not ticklish as a cat hybrid!”
“Is that so? Very well then, I guess you wouldn’t mind if I did… this!” The older blonde scratched at Shulk’s cat ears again, but this time, it was far less relaxing and far more tickly. The noise that came out of the poor hybrid was a mix between a purr and a giggle.
“Mrrrrhehehehehehe, no! Nohohohohohohoho! Clohohohohohohohohould!” “Huh, would you look at that!” Cloud leaned in a bit before he delivered his next tease, “Someone lied to me~”
“Ihihihihihihihihihi- Ihihihihihihihihihi’m sohohohohohohohohorry!”
Cloud’s grin grew at the apology. “Apology not accepted~ You know you shouldn’t have lied to me, and yet you did it anyway.” He sped up the tickling a bit as soon as his hands landed on his sides, clearly trying to use those tickles as a threat. “Am I going to have to punish you for lying~?”
Shulk let out a series of mewls that mixed in with his giggles, “Wahahah-wahahahahahait, thihihihihis ihihihisn’t thehehehe punihihihistmehehehnt?”
“No, but if you want, I can punish you right now. Is that what you want~?”
“Nahahahahahahahahawo!” Shulk’s protest came out as a mix of a whine, a meow, and a laugh. He started kicking when Cloud’s fingers moved a little too close to his stomach.
“Hey, hey! What are you doing?!” Cloud slowed his tickling down to a stop and returned to his normal personality, confused as to why Shulk’s reaction was so violent. Sure, he tried to kick his way out of the merc’s tickly hands on multiple occasions, but right now? It seemed as though something was different. Very different.
“Is he somehow more ticklish than before?” Cloud found it hard to believe. Shulk was already ticklish enough to the point where he would start squirming and giggling as soon as someone got their hands on him. They didn’t even have to tickle him if they wanted to. They could just leave their hand there!
Cloud loved to take advantage of this, and would often place his hand on Shulk’s stomach just so he could hear him laugh.
“Wait, his stomach… That could answer my question… or rather, two questions.”
“B-brohohotheher?” Despite the fact that Cloud had stopped tickling him, the scientist had a few giggles left in his system.
The merc didn’t say anything and instead glanced down at Shulk’s belly.
“Whahahat are you looking at?”
Shulk followed Cloud’s eyes, and all of the giggling ceased.
“Wait, Cloud, don’t!”
“Hm? I’m not doing anything, am I?” Cloud briefly looked up at Shulk’s face before his vision went back down to the younger man’s stomach.
“K-kind of! Why are you l-looking at my stomach like that?”
Cloud felt a tinge of embarrassment and tore his eyes away from the Hom’s weak spot, “I want to ask you something.”
“Y-yes?” Shulk did not like where this was going, but decided to hear his “brother” out anyway.
“Someone in my homeworld told me that cats dislike belly rubs, but they never told me why. I think this might be my chance to find the reason.”
Shulk’s typical whimper was replaced with a pitiful-sounding meow, which only riled him up more. “B-brother, please don’t…”
“Hey, try to relax, okay? It may not apply to you, but neither of us will know the answer until we test it. Wouldn’t you do the same if I was a cat hybrid?”
The heir tried to respond, but his words got stuck in his throat.
“I’ll be gentle, I promise. If you get overwhelmed, tell me to stop, okay?”
“O-okay…” Even with the promise of mercy, Shulk still felt nervous. And he had every right to be, because as soon as Cloud’s hands made contact with his belly, he broke down in laughter and started kicking again.
“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHN’T TAHAHAHAHAHAHKE IHIHIHIHIHIT!”
“But I haven’t done anything yet!” Amidst the loud laughter that poured out of Shulk, Cloud told himself, “I think I found the answer to my questions”, as the younger male’s laughter got louder and louder.
But he still had to prove to himself that his hypothesis was correct, as Shulk would say, so he wiggled his fingers on the skin above Shulk’s navel. The action produced a small shrill that made Cloud recoil in surprise.
“Shit, did I hurt you?!”
“Sohohohorry, I-I couldn’t help it! It t-tihihihickled so bad!”
Cloud nodded in understanding, “Ah, I see… So I was right…”
A faint glimmer of innocence shone in Shulk’s eyes as he calmed down and tilted his head in curiosity. “Right? Right about what?”
Seeing the glimmer in his “brother’s” eyes made Cloud’s brain malfunction for a split second, but luckily, he was able to regain his composure before the heir noticed.
“I’ll explain later. For now…” Cloud allowed his voice go lower as he slowly transitioned back into his role as the ler, “I think a certain kitty is looking for belly rubs~”
The younger male accidentally let out a meow that sounded a bit too excited for his liking, and he hit Cloud’s arm with his tail repeatedly when his “brother’s” hands touched his tummy.
“What’s the matter? Why are you hitting me with your tail, hm~?”
Shulk’s answer came out in between giggles, “I’m sohohohohorry! Ihihihihihihi can’t hehehehehehelp it!”
Cloud put on a sinister smile, “I know, you’re just nervous.” He laughed at the blush that formed on Shulk’s face before he continued, “Either that, or you are showing affection. I’m not sure which assumption is the right one, but I’m thinking that it might be a combination of both~”
“Hohohohohohohow w-would yohohoho know thahahahat?”
Shit, he had said too much. Cloud avoided the question by gently rubbing Shulk’s stomach with one hand and lightly scratching at the sensitive skin with the other. The poor Hom fell into hysterics almost instantly, letting out a loud screech before he burst into laughter.
“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! WHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIY DOHOHOHOHOHOES THAHAHAHAHT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLEHEHEHEHEHE SOHOHOHO MUHUHUHUCH?!”
“Because you’re such a ticklish kitten~!” Cloud changed tactics as he used both hands to scratch at Shulk’s belly, “I hope you can handle this for a bit longer, because there’s something that I want to test out real quick.”
Almost as soon as his second hand started scratching, both of them were being pulled away, and just as he expected, Shulk put his arms up in the air.
Cloud fell into a laughing fit of his own as he replayed the short scene in his mind, “Yehehehehp, you’re ahahahaha cat hybrid alrihihihihihihight!”.
“Hohohohohohohohohohohohohow?” The younger boy asked, still feeling the tingles that radiated through his core.
Cloud struggled to maintain composure as he spoke, “You put your arms up lihihike a kitten when I pulled my hands away!”
Before Shulk could respond to that, Cloud resumed his attack on his stomach. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAH NOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOHOT AHAHAHAHAHGAHAHAHAHIN!”
Just like before, Cloud quickly stopped, and Shulk put his arms up again. This was repeated several times until the older male switched tactics again and blew a raspberry onto the scientist’s belly. The only sound that followed was a loud scream that sounded like a cat screaming in fear.
Shulk never told him to stop, but at this point, Cloud knew that he couldn’t take another minute of tickling, so he ceased the raspberries and sat up, ending the tickles for good. Meanwhile, Shulk struggled to regain control of his laughter, his breathing, and his twitchy ears and tail.
“You alright?” Cloud asked, voice full of concern.
“Yeah… I’m fine. A bit… overwhelmed, but I’ll be… okay.” Shulk replied in between his heavy breaths as he sat up. “Can I… ask you some questions?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Shulk waited until he had caught his breath to shift over to the older blonde and rest his head on his uncovered shoulder, “Okay, first, what happened to you being nice to me?” He asked, a slight pout forming on his face.
Cloud couldn’t help but laugh at the pout, “I suppose I got a little carried away with the tickling. Sorry about that.”
“A little is an understatement, but don’t worry about it. I forgive you.” The heir wrapped his tail around Cloud’s arm. “Second, do you know why that tickled so badly?”
“Not sure, but I think it has something to do with your increased sensitivity to tickling.”
“Wait, are you serious?! I’m somehow more ticklish than before?!”
“I think so, and if that’s the case, your increased sensitivity might have something to do with you being a cat hybrid.”
“How?” Shulk lifted his head off of Cloud’s shoulder so he could tilt it again, “How does being a cat hybrid affect my ticklishness?”
“Cats are more sensitive to touch than humans are, but I don’t know how sensitive they are on certain parts of their bodies.” Cloud gave the younger male a quick tickle under his chin, earning himself a light giggle, “I wouldn’t be able to tell you whether or not a cat is more ticklish on its chin or its stomach, for example. What I can tell you is that cats will react to your touch if you tickle them. Like I told you earlier, they can’t laugh, but they can react to tickling in other ways. Some might purr, and some will try to scratch your hand. There’s more to it than that, but I think you get the idea.”
“Oh, that’s really interesting! And a good way to transition to my last question…” The sparkle of excitement that once lit up Shulk’s eyes gave way to a mischievous glint.
Seeing that look in the “brother’s” eyes, Cloud tensed up, trying to disguise the nervousness that had begun to take root in his mind, “And that is…?”
“Why do you know so much about cats? I thought you were neutral towards them.”
“Well, I kind of implied it earlier, but someone taught me a few things about them.”
“But why would you need all of that information?”
“Uh…” The merc was dangerously close to having his secret revealed, and that made his face turn bright red from shame. However, as much as he wanted to lie again to protect himself from further embarrassment, he knew that the heir wouldn’t judge him, so he told him the truth. “I… wanted to get closer to some of the cats in my homeworld…”
He heard Shulk giggle, and he was afraid that he had humiliated himself. He was only slightly relieved when he heard his response, “You’re such a hypocrite.”
“What?”
“You punished me for lying about my ticklishness, and yet here you are, lying about your feelings towards cats. That’s not fair!” Shulk said with a whine and another pout.
The shame disappeared as Cloud chuckled, but he couldn’t respond to the scientist’s statement in time before something poked his ribs. He quickly realized that it was Shulk’s tail.
“What are you doing?” Cloud questioned the other, trying and failing to grab the fluffy appendage.
“Oh nothing~ I’m just thinking of something.” Shulk said playfully, a tone that Cloud knew to be dangerous.
“And what is that something, if I may ask?”
Never had he regretted a question so fast. In no time, Shulk pushed him onto his back and went to town, tickling his underarms with his hands and his ribs with his tail.
“Revenge~” Shulk said menacingly, letting out a pleased hum as Cloud fell deeper and deeper into hysterics.
For the next several minutes, the cat hybrid tickled his “brother” until the older blonde fought back and initiated a tickle fight. By the end of the fight, they were exhausted (especially Shulk, since he lost the tickle fight), and as they recovered from their intense laughter, Shulk thought to himself, “Maybe being a cat hybrid isn’t so bad…”
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pseudoneiiric · 3 years
Text
meta post: ocd, mysophobia, and a revelation on my part.
not to mention that a really important part of lili’s backstory is… her germaphobia. she has persistent delusions accompanied by visual hallucinations where she sees people as “parasites”, which visually manifests as them rotting or decomposing. because of that, she wears gloves all the time and is repulsed by physical touch. but when she meets c (whose real name is vincent) in person, she pretty much instantly goes for skin-to-skin contact with him, where she takes off her glove and holds his hand. and like, sure, that’s sweet, but that’s really not how mental illness… works. in the slightest. she doesn’t react at all when his hand touches hers, despite the fact that she has literally had panic attacks in canon from touching things without her gloves. and it gives off this implication that mental illness can be cured with romance somehow, and that’s a really bad take!
this feeds into fandom understanding that like, well, if lilian sees vincent as pure and allows him to touch her, then Obviously she’d let him kiss her, they could probably have sex, etc. and like… she’s canonically asexual though! and that brings us to the other implication, that asexuality is somehow… caused by something. like, there’s nothing in canon to state that lilian experiences sexual attraction (or even really romantic attraction, like i know etherane went off in heaven’s gate and did a lot of ship tease, but she never really outright says she’s crushing on anyone), but judging from the way etherane handled lilian’s gender identity, i have a sneaking suspicion that she established lilian’s asexuality with her mental illnesses specifically in mind. lilian’s autistic, germaphobic, has severe ocd, and she’s been sexually assaulted in the past. therefore, she must be asexual! that’s the sort of vibes i get from the game, and im not here for it.
— me, circa november 2020
the other day, i was writing a crossover ship fic for lilian when i ran into a problem. namely, the Touch Aversion problem. at first glance, the reasoning behind lilian’s touch aversion seems really simple: she hates germs and dirty things, so she wears gloves and washes her hands so frequently that they blister. since she has ocd and mysophobia, it makes sense for her to be obsessive about cleanliness and for her passive skill to be listed as cleaning. she doesn’t touch q84 in canon even in life-threatening situations, except for the very end, because she hates touching people. when anri kissed her, lilian was so grossed out that she imagined anri as a parasite. and when it comes to her taking off her glove and holding vincent’s hand... well, 
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but upon replaying hello charlotte 3 and doing a little bit of digging with regards to the actual symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder and mysophobia, i realized something. and this “something” was a game-changer.
so let’s start off by defining some things. obsessive-compulsive disorder, shortened to ocd, has several diagnostic criteria, which you can read here if you’d like the full clinical definition. for the sake of length, though, i will only talk about the most important part to take away from the diagnostic criteria.
ocd is not a fear of germs. ocd is not a fear of germs. ocd. is. not. a fucking fear of germs. obsessions may involve cleanliness. compulsions may include wanting areas to be clean. it is entirely possible for ocd to be accompanied by mysophobia, but a fear of germs is not inherent to the diagnosis of ocd. what is inherent to the diagnosis of ocd is a repeated and pervasive series of intrusive thoughts which cause the person with ocd debilitating anxiety or distress, and a set of compulsions that the person with ocd performs in order to mitigate said anxiety. these compulsions do not need to correspond to the actual obsession. a lot of obsessions don’t. for example, your obsession could be around disliking cluttered environments, but your compulsion could be pacing a hallway fourteen times back and forth while mentally reciting the preamble to the american constitution. in some cases, the compulsion is related to the obsession but is generally considered excessive. remember that ocd is not characterized by a need for cleanliness and that it is instead characterized by ritualistic behaviour accompanied by obsessive thought patterns.
i also want to talk about this section in particular, taken from the website linked above:
D. The disturbance is not better explained by the symptoms of another mental disorder (e.g., excessive worries, as in generalized anxiety disorder; preoccupation with appearance, as in body dysmorphic disorder; difficulty discarding or parting with possessions, as in hoarding disorder; [ ... ] ritualized eating behavior, as in eating disorders; [ ... ] thought insertion or delusional preoccupations, as in schizophrenia spectrum and other psychotic disorders; or repetitive patterns of behavior, as in autism spectrum disorder).
Specify if:
With good or fair insight: The individual recognizes that obsessive-compulsive disorder beliefs are definitely or probably not true or that they may or may not be true.
With poor insight:  The individual thinks obsessive-compulsive disorder beliefs are probably true.
With absent insight/delusional beliefs: The individual is completely convinced that obsessive-compulsive disorder beliefs are true.
i want to let the record show that lilian has several of these disorders. while i don’t believe that this disqualifies her from having ocd, i do think it’s important to note that there is comorbidity between these disorders.
i included this section on inslght because i’m going to go into depth why i believe lilian has absent insight/delusional beliefs. but in order to talk about that, we need to figure out just what it is that lilian is obsessively thinking, what it is that’s causing her so much distress. if ocd doesn’t inherently involve a need for cleanliness, then could it be that lilian’s obsessions revolve around her mysophobia? after all, mysophobia is germaphobia, so maybe she’s just scared of germs, and that’s why she’s always washing her hands.
so, let’s talk about mysophobia. it isn’t listed under the dsm v on its own, but it does exist (albeit not by name) under the umbrella term specific phobia disorder. you can look that up yourself, but from the research i’ve done, i can fairly safely say this: mysophobia, more commonly referred to as germaphobia, is not a fear of germs for the sake of fearing germs. it is a fear of being contaminated, sick, or infected, whether it be through other people or through the environment. symptoms of mysophobia include but are not limited to obsessive handwashing, an extreme avoidance of places that are deemed unclean, and excessive planning to avoid contamination. this separates it from ocd in that ocd involves ritualistic behaviours (like handwashing) to ease anxiety, whereas mysophobia involves these ritualistic behaviours to actually make the area cleaner. to summarize, mysophobic actions are directly related to the fear of contracting an illness.
okay, kids, what have we learned?
though ocd can be accompanied by mysophobia, the two of them are not synonymous. ocd is a pattern of obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviours designed to ease anxiety surrounding those thoughts.
there are lots of comorbidities present with ocd and other disorders lilian has, such as autism spectrum disorder, body dysmorphic disorder, eating disorders, and psychotic disorders.
mysophobia is more accurately defined as being afraid of being infected or contaminated. mysophobic compulsions relate directly to the desire to eliminate contaminants, rather than being a self-soothing action to reduce anxiety.
now that we’ve laid the groundwork for analyzing lilian’s behaviour, let’s dive into canon. what can we say about lilian’s anxious preoccupations? what excessive planning does she undergo to avoid contact with germs? and, most importantly, why is she perfectly fine with holding vincent’s hand? (it’s still bad writing, but i found an explanation that makes it better)
the most obvious sign of both ocd and mysophobia present in canon is lilian’s intense preoccupation with handwashing. we only see this happen once, in hello charlotte 2.
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i’ve removed some sections for the sake of length, but here are some revealing lines from lilian:
My fellow students smashed my head into a worm soup.
I can’t [stop washing my hands]. I’ve washed off [most] of the soup, but I still feel dirtied.
In fact, everything I touch feels contaminated. I can’t just shake off the feeling of disgust.
between ocd and mysophobia, this reaction seems very solidly linked to the latter. lilian’s head was dunked into soup, and she felt disgusted and contaminated, so she began to obsessively wash the soup away. the only other place where handwashing is mentioned is in lilian’s mind exhibition in hello charlotte 3.
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in this poem, lilian attributes her handwashing to her ocd, where she writes, “wash and repeat! it’s not enough!” she doesn’t state in this poem if she does this to reduce the possibility of getting sick or if she does this as a compulsive ritual. both interpretations are plausible, given the vague statement “it’s not enough!”. perhaps it’s not enough because she still feels contaminated, or it’s not enough because she has not been rid of the anxiety caused by her intrusive thoughts. maybe it’s a little bit of both.
however, excessive handwashing does not a disorder make. sure, lilian washes her hands until they blister, but why? what is she trying to avoid? in the example in hello charlotte 2, she’s washing off soup. this is a direct response to an uncomfortable situation and not to an anxious preoccupation. in her poem, she offers no hint as to what is causing her so much anxiety that she needs to wash her hands compulsively. and once you start to pick through her behaviour in search of a thread of obsessive thinking, it starts to become clear that there might not be one.
the truth is, lilian’s actions in canon are generally inconsistent given the definitions listed above. her touch aversion is implied to be caused by her mysophobia, but she has no real plan for avoiding touch besides wearing gloves, which she ditches anyway when touching vincent. in heaven’s gate, it’s implied to be more of an aromantic or asexual thing. (i say aromantic because the scene was a little weird about not dividing the line between romantic and sexual attraction, so even though lilian’s canonically asexual, the scene was actually talking about kissing and dating and might have just been a ploy to get nonconsensual kissing in because that’s apparently mandatory in like every game anri appears in.) but that doesn’t make much sense either, considering that platonic and otherwise non-sexual touch is also off-limits.
we return to the intense, excessive and obsessive nature of both ocd and mysophobia. passing fears of contamination or infection don’t classify as mysophobia, and vague and isolated anxieties don’t classify as ocd. the individual has to be intensely preoccupied by these thoughts. however, in canon, lilian is generally not preoccupied with getting sick or dirty until it actually happens to her. her goal in life is to become a doctor, a profession that involves repeated and close contact with infectious diseases. she also takes care of her bedridden mother, which in many cases involves helping the individual with their personal hygiene. her mother is the reason why she wants to become a doctor in the first place, and since anri knows about this dream, it’s fairly safe to assume that this is lilian’s own dream, not scarlett’s. however, in hello charlotte 3, when q84 is wounded, she asks lilian to treat her wounds, and lilian’s response is as follows:
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this is further reinforced when q84 is decomposing after having used her wish, and umbrella man states that lilian is fighting the urge to vomit. however, in the infirmary scene, lilian is quite comfortable with being physically close to q84, even when there is a possibility for skin contact. note how charlotte’s hair (which has the possibility of carrying bacteria, skin flakes, etc.) is close to lilian’s face, but how lilian seems quite content, even relaxed.
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this is stressful! what is the truth?
on top of that, we know for a fact that, despite being mysophobic, lilian has no issue (at least in hello charlotte 2) with using public bathrooms at school, something that is generally a huge obstacle for people struggling with mysophobia. in true realm, this is never addressed, which lends credence to the idea that she simply doesn’t worry about the transmission of germs in shared spaces like bathrooms, nor is she worried at all about using anri’s smartphone to take blackmail pictures when screens are generally a hotbed of germs. we could say that she makes such liberal use of her gloves that she doesn’t even think about the germs living on them (unlikely), but then she’d likely have a panic attack when she does things like touch her face, which she does in at least one of her sprites.
in fact, the only thought she has about cleanliness in true realm flashbacks is in one of the final ones. she thinks the following: “we lie on the floor for a long time. i briefly wonder if it’s properly vacuumed.” this is, like, a normal thought. i can’t stress enough how normal this thought is and how quickly this thought passes. i cannot stress enough how little she cares about the cleanliness of this floor.
so, like, what gives? why does lilian wear gloves? why does she say she’s squeamish in false realm or want to throw up when holding charlotte? and most importantly, how is she mysophobic when she doesn’t seem to fear germs at all?
the answer fucking blew my mind, folks. are you ready? here it is.
This world is swarming with parasites. Tiny. Invisible. Tenacious. Once they outwit your immune system, they eat you from the inside. Use you as an incubator for their offspring. Control your mind and alter your personality. They keep reproducing, and reproducing, and reproducing, endlessly reproducing. Until every single person is consumed by the disease.
from this excerpt, we can glean the following:
the parasite lilian is describing is a disease that targets the immune system;
the parasite functions by controlling its host like a puppet and altering aspects of their personality, potentially causing them to act in a way that is uncharacteristic; and
the parasite’s goal is to reproduce and to eventually infect everyone in the world.
these are the very first lines in the very first flashback to true realm. an echoing of these very lines are found later, when lilian is saying them to q84. note that, according to etherane, it has been many, many years since these words have first been uttered. but lilian manages to quote them verbatim. given that she can recite these lines perfectly years after her death, it seems that this is a comforting mantra about the world’s truths. and from that, we can gather that repeating this mantra is one of her compulsions, alongside handwashing.
this is it. this is the root of lilian’s mysophobia. these lines accurately explain a pervasive delusion that manifests both in lilian’s thoughts and in her visual hallucinations. more accurately, it is the mantra that describes the “o” in lilian’s ocd and the illness that causes her mysophobia. the parasite is the disease she’s afraid of contracting, and that fear is the intrusive thought that brings her so much anxiety. i tried to compile a list of all the times lilian or someone modelled after her has mentioned contamination, a preoccupation with purity, a parasite, a tumour, rottenness, or anything relating to this core concept, but there was just... so much. the entire world of hello charlotte is based around parasites and mind control. the deus ex machina of this world is a parasite itself. all charlottes have the disease. this world is literally obsessed with the delusion lilian’s held her whole life.
and now that we’ve framed it like that... is it any wonder that this is the obsessive thought? something we’d previously assumed to be a persistent metaphor is actually an intense preoccupation. lilian’s inconsistent actions in canon make sense because she’s not worried about contracting a physical illness, but rather a mental one that’s linked to a persistent delusion of hers. throughout canon, we see no instances of lilian questioning this belief, leading her to be classified as having absent insight/delusional beliefs.
before i continue, i want to mention that the pitfall many hello charlotte fans fall into, and the one i myself have fallen into in the past, is assuming that lilian was always unable to touch others. though she wears gloves throughout the entirety of the true realm flashbacks, she was actually alright with making contact with others up until a specific point in her life. and, interestingly enough, it was not vincent's death that spurred on this change. a full three months pass between his death and the time when lilian's mental health took a nosedive. the critical moment of change involves the very last flashback: 531 days before the trial.
lilian and anri decide to run away together. however, lilian was actually planning a double suicide. upon learning this, anri grows agitated, punching lilian and pinning her down to the floor. it's at this point that lilian realizes anri's feelings for her. after anri kisses her, she becomes a parasite. when lilian gets home, she checks on mother and realizes that mother has become a parasite as well.
from this day onwards, lilian begins to see everyone in her life as a parasite. she says it herself: "That moment I realized. I could never touch a human being ever again." this is the start of her intense touch aversion and marks the beginning of the end of her life. it’s at this point that lilian becomes physically repulsed by everyone around her and the environment she exists in, and these feelings generally persist, albeit on a lesser scale, in false realm.
but what is the parasite? in true realm, the parasite is only described in lilian’s mantra, but there are several nuances to the definition that go unexplained. however, in false realm, parasites take a variety of forms. similarly to how scarlett and umbrella man are reflections of lilian’s inner self that take shape as their own entities within false realm, lilian’s definitions for what a parasite is also breaks off and takes shape into various different forms after her death. when we examine what parasites are in false realm, we can begin to understand what makes someone turn into a physical deformity in lilian’s eyes and why she’s so afraid of the parasite in the first place.
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there are three kinds of deformities in false realm. there is the oracle (left), the bullies (upper-right), and the faceless (lower-right). these are not all official terms, but they’ll be the ones that i use going forward.
the oracle is the entity that most closely follows the original logic of the mantra — it is an entity that rapidly multiplies (either through a race like the pythias or organically through cell division as it does in hello charlotte 3) and forms a collective out of several individuals. hello charlotte 2 explains that unification of a civilization is an arduous and painful procedure involving the slow loss of individuality until the race completely submits to the will of the parasitic host. the oracle is, to summarize, an entity that can “control your mind and alter your personality”. the oracle is the only parasite that ever enters another’s body. the other two forms of parasites are never called parasites themselves, but show visible deformities that house tenants and other important characters do not.
the faceless visually signify a lack of importance. these people do not do anything special. in some cases, they appear as a literal amalgamate, showing a hive-mindedness even if they are not being controlled by the oracle. these individuals are usually treated neutrally, and are not generally considered “bad”. they are simply narratively unimportant. by contrast, bullies do have faces, but they are vastly distorted and exhibit bright colouring. i may talk a bit more in a future post about colour symbolism and how it plays into both lilian’s and q84′s mysophobias, but to briefly summarize: the presence of colour is considered a contaminant, whereas white is considered an absence of colour and therefore “pure”. therefore, the brightly-coloured bullies are contaminated. these individuals show corrupted behaviour. they hurt others for personal gain, and are generally considered irredeemable.
in true realm, however, we see no such stylistic distinction. however, though they are not represented visually, the parasites in true realm show the same patterns as the oracle, the bullies, and the faceless. .
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now that we have determined what the parasite is, we can determine how the parasite spreads. as previously stated, the parasite does not spread through shared surfaces or skin contact, as normal viruses do. lilian herself seems to treat it like it's just chance, like the parasite just chose to infect people randomly. but there are some things that she says that lends credence to the idea that the parasite is discriminate. after all, though her delusional belief is that the parasite will attach itself to any host it comes into contact with, this delusional belief did come from somewhere. and after examining the process of contamination over the course of the two or so years we see of her life, i believe this belief stemmed from her black-and-white views on good and evil and her penchant to see life as a narrative.
the first outcropping of parasites in lilian’s life were likely the faceless. she seems much less perturbed by them, and seem to view them as simply background pieces. this may be because of her belief in “protagonist” characters. in false realm, q84 makes liberal use of the term “npcs”, though all charlottes seem to have a concept of other students being faceless and subservient to them. this is a tenuous connection, but i believe lilian shares a similar belief. she may consider others "narratively unimportant”; that is, lacking direction or initiative, or perhaps simply not making an impact. she prides herself on being an observer, but she is undeniably the self-hating protagonist of her story. she says that if there is an afterlife, she doesn’t want to be its protagonist. this implies that on some level, she’s considered herself the protagonist of her own life. it’s definitely plausible given lilian’s tendency to project negative traits on others for her to see herself as comparatively good or blameless. by placing her own negative traits onto scarlett, for example, lilian creates a shaky ideal self. in other words, she creates a somewhat worthy protagonist.
and worthiness is incredibly important to lilian. a strong recurring theme in hello charlotte is the notion of “goodness”, especially when it relates to being polite. for example, in hello charlotte 1, a door refuses to open for you if you don't say please, and will call you insolent. all charlottes strive to be a “good girl” because their mothers told them to. interestingly enough, this is also what lilith tells lilian in true realm. since all charlottes have this strict adherence to being a good girl, this must have been very impactful for lilian. being considered “good” must have been very important to her. and being considered “bad” must have been similarly devastating.
knowing that charlotte is lilian's self-insert oc makes things even clearer. charlotte embodies an extreme selflessness, wanting to sacrifice herself for the good of others at any cost. any desire she has to be saved is rapidly dismissed as selfish, and she repeatedly states that she doesn't want to be a burden. charlotte's character makes a clear statement: good people are not burdensome. good people have faith in humanity. good people believe in others, and they help others even if the other person doesn’t deserve it.
the delusion is lilian’s failsafe. it’s her way of ensuring that she could never consider herself a bad person or a burden. in creating the narrative of a contagious parasite infecting the world, lilian is protecting herself from personal responsibility, both in herself and in others. instead of maintaining her belief that some people are evil, which she would consider a Bad Belief to have, she believes that they have simply caught a contagious disease. the bad-person disease, if you will. and since that disease alters the mind and personality of its hosts, these people are not directly responsible for their actions. here, lilian is absolved of hating people who hurt others. now, like charlotte, she can simply wish for their recovery. because they aren’t choosing to hurt others. they’re being manipulated into it by an invisible, malicious, contagious puppeteer.
a similar logic is applied to those lilian finds burdensome. since good people, in her eyes, can make themselves a martyr no matter the circumstances, it would be considered very bad if lilian could not do the same. this is evidenced when mother turns into a parasite. in that scene, lilian thinks the following:
It'd be easier if my mom was a workaholic who was never home. It'd be easier if we hated each other. It'd be easier if I didn't remember the days when she was still full of energy. Who would want to admit [to] their parent giving up on life and slowly rotting in the bedroom? Who would admit to thinking of their only parent as a parasitic existence? After that day, nothing was the same anymore.
in this instance, the word “parasite” is used to describe a leech, someone who constantly takes and never gives back. and in using this word to describe them, lilian relegates them in her mind as bullies, because she can’t admit to feeling burdened.
we see this also in anri. it’s not the physical action of the kiss that turns anri into a parasite. it’s the realization that anri has always had ulterior motives, that anri expects something of lilian. and lilian, feeling burdened, projects her own guilt about her lack of reciprocation onto anri. even at the end of her life, when she’s in the ocean, she reveals that one of her greatest regrets is not being able to reciprocate anri’s feelings.
vincent, on the other hand, is a charming stranger. he never gives lilian any reason to suspect that he may have ulterior motives. he’s successful, driven, popular, and talented. in many ways, he’s everything lilian wants to be. and since she doesn’t meet him for a long time, she can imagine him to be simply “the blinding icon on her screen“. she can project anything she wants onto him, and she chooses to project hope onto him. with his politeness, his charm, his compliments, he appears to be the ideal human. like lilian, he has managed to avoid being infected by the parasite. lilian grows attached to this interpretation, just as she grows attached to the mutuality of her friendship with anri, and just as she grows attached to her love for her mother. lilian doesn’t want to think of these people as parasites. in vincent’s case, he dies before he ever gets the chance to burden her. rather, he leaves her with the guilt of not being able to follow him and a misplaced idolatry of him and his beliefs.
the parasite, being a visual representation of perceived evil intent, seems to be non-contagious in nature. this doesn’t change, though, that lilian believes it is contagious. she wants to spend time with people she has deemed good, and to avoid bullies. however, the simple act of feeling burdened is enough to make lilian believe that the parasite is spreading at a breakneck rate and that the world she lives in is becoming more and more contaminated. once she feels she’s lost her support system, the parasite begins to spread, and she begins to feel less and less inherently good. it’s clear that the people around her had a stabilizing effect on her. but once she feels abandoned, her unhealthy coping mechanisms begin to catch up to her. lilian describes herself as filthy by the end of her life, and it’s very likely that she feared becoming a parasite herself if she were to continue down the path she was on.
the last piece of the puzzle is this: what saved anri and mother for so long, and what saved vincent from becoming a parasite altogether? after all, anri is a perfect candidate for developing the parasite, and arguably, so is mother. both of them rely on lilian for different things, and anri actively engages in blackmail. it would be simple as well to see c as disingenuous or fake. but lilian doesn’t entertain any of those thoughts, either for a very long time or at all. why?
the answer is simple. the people that lilian loves are less likely to be infected by the parasite. even if they are infected, she is kinder to them. after anri says she’ll leave lilian, after her confession and her subsequent contamination, lilian lets anri cuddle her. she even hugs anri tightly before they part, and keeps in contact with her until... well, just before she commits suicide. despite the relationship between lilian and her mother being one-sided, lilian holds onto pleasant memories of her mother because she doesn’t want to believe that she could feel burdened. and lilian is so attached to her love for c that she doesn’t see anything wrong with him.
all of this is to say that lilian’s touch aversion does not stem from physical cleanliness, but rather her perception of the other’s purity. this means that she’s not only willing to touch others if she deems them a “good person”, but that she is actively okay with it. this is evidenced even in false realm, where she is alright with exchanging casual moments of intimacy with charlotte and q84, such as in the “take my hand” scene and in the infirmary scene. since she loves these individuals, she sees them as inherently better people than she would if she viewed them objectively. this is a game-changer when it comes to touch-aversion. with respect to the charles/vincent ships where lilian’s okay with kissing... that’s a different story. even though saliva may not trigger her mysophobia, we’ve seen on multiple occasions both in canon and in heaven’s gate that lilian is indifferent to mouth-kissing at best. however, she is definitely comfortable with some displays of physical affection with those she cares for, and is generally willing to excuse much more when it comes to those she loves.
thank you for reading this post in its entirety! i did not expect it to get this long, so if you got to the end, i just want you to know i love and appreciate you SO much
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miraclesnail · 3 years
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1000 Ways and I Can Name You One
A thousand ways to tell the Stoll brothers apart and I can name you one. Travis and Connor centric oneshots featuring characters from PJO/HOO.
Chapter 32: Michael - Food 
Plus the whole 9.7k fic under the read more but with funky formatting 
Michael — Food
Michael (14) — Travis (13) — Connor (13)
Early June 2007
Pre Sea of Monsters
[8:07 AM]
The whole drive to Camp, Lee has been saying the weirdest things. 
‘This camp is special.’
‘This camp is for children of Greek gods and goddesses.’
‘This camp helps the said children harness the godly gifts inherited from said gods and goddesses.’
‘This camp is top secret and no matter what, you cannot tell your mother about Camp Half Blood. Not a word. Not a complaint. Not even a compliment. Michael? Are you listening? Ar—are you laughing?! Michael, I’m not joking around. This is not a joke.’
Did Michael take Lee seriously? Not at all. Not even to humor him. What does Lee take him for? An idiot? Like, he doesn’t really have many friends at school (none actually) but even he knows when someone is trying to pull a prank on him. Lee typically goes for jump scares, but it’s good to see him broaden his horizon and try new things. 
Yeah. 
Michael wholeheartedly believes Lee is 100% kidding around. 
It’s kind of a shock when he walks through the camp and sees flowers being grown in someone’s palms, men with hooves and horns trotting around, a goddamn girl rising from the lake like some kind of b-grade horror movie but minus the sunken eyes and gray skin and tattered white dress. 
It’s a big shock. Kinda earth-shattering actually. Very disorientating. It’s taking all his mental capability to process the fact that the Greek gods are real , that the Greek myths are real , that his atheist beliefs are all wrong and holy fuck?? God is real . 
It’s probably why when that SOB Shermie or Sherlock or whatever his name is picked a fight, he welcomed the easy distraction and picked one right back. 
In hindsight, he should have maybe exhibited more self-control. 
“He shoved me.”
The utter stare of incredulity has Michael quickly rephrasing his initial statement, fiddling with a loose string on his t-shirt. 
“He shoved me first. ”
“And so you decided to turn it into a slugfest?” Lee says, arms crossing as they stand on Cabin 11’s porch. 
“To be fair, to be fair,” Michael says, scrambling for excuses as his eyes dart from cabin to cabin, “to be really fair, that Sherm-guy started it.”
Lee didn’t buy it, not that Michael expected him too. 
“You promised me, Michael,” Lee says, disappointed, and Michael looks away with guilt. 
He did promise Lee. Right before they left the apartment complex, Lee explicitly said, “Promise me, Michael, that you’ll be on your best behavior?” And he said he will. 
“Mike, I don’t want any phone calls from the head honcho again, okay?” his mom said, exasperated. He said there wouldn’t be any.
“Mikey, please tell us all the fights you’ll get into!” his four little siblings — Leo, Raphie, Carly, and Sam — screamed together with cheeky, smug, knowing grins as he got into the car with Lee. He said ‘in your dreams.’ 
Not even one full hour and he failed two out of three. Possibly all three if Travis and Connor decide to hand his ass to the director. 
“I’m really sorry, Lee,” Michael says, head lowering, “I promise for real this time. I won’t get into any more fights. I swear.” 
Like clockwork, the frown and crossed arms drop for a bright smile and a hair ruffling, like he actually believed Michael can do it. Lee’s weird like that. He believes in people and their lies despite what their actions are saying, believes in him even with the 14 years of experience that Michael cannot follow through on that promise. 
It’s that same idealistic, stupid belief that has Lee clinging to the hope his birth mom will one day want to actually be a mom. 
Michael slinks back into the cabin as quietly as he can. Miranda catches his eye and waves him over, patting the empty spot next to her. Michael hesitates (still remembers the way she tosses a boy a whole head taller than her like nothing) but thought better of it. 
The promise, he thinks. Remember your promise. 
He sees Sherman sitting on Miranda’s other side. As he slides down to sit cross-legged, he’s mentally preparing himself for a jeer. But Sherman is just staring at Miranda, wide-eyed and star-struck and totally ignoring him which is perfectly fine with Michael. 
Miranda angles her body towards him, a slight smile on her face as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just want to warn you that you’re in Connor’s bad book right now.”
“Should I be worried?” Michael says, glancing at the brothers talking on one of the upper bunk beds.
To which Miranda smiles sweetly. “You should keep your head down. I heard he gets a bit prank-crazy with people he doesn’t like.”
A sharp whistle brings his attention upfront. 
“Okay, so hey, everybody! Exciting first day, I know. Welcome to Camp Half Blood,” one of the pair says with a big grin, standing on top of the upper bunk bed. The other sits at the edge, feet swinging over. “We’re already late for breakfast so I’ll make this super-duper quick. My name is Travis Stoll. I am one of your head counselors. This is Connor, my little brother.” 
Connor waves, his smile matching Travis’s.
“I’m also your counselor. Any problems you guys have whether it be life problems, camp problems, prank problems, you can come to us. Lucky for you guys, you have two of us. Most cabins just have one,” Connor says. 
“Where’s Luke?” someone in the back yells. 
“Luke is gone now. If you see him, either in person or in a dream, tell us right away. Please come talk to me after this meeting if you want more details,” Connor answers, still cheerful but Michael kinda feels like his words are too curt. There’s definitely bad blood between this Luke person and them.
“Moving on,” Travis follows after, “the beds are all taken. Any more fighting over them will result in the instigator getting a timeout. For everybody else, sleeping bags are available and we will make room. Your stuff can be placed in the closet or tucked in your sleeping bag. I know this cabin’s patron is the god of thievery, but please show respect and decency towards your fellow cabinmates and don’t steal from each other. Steal from other cabins instead. Apollo’s kids are the easiest to steal from. So are Aphrodite’s if you want to practice before moving onto the big leagues. Athena’s and Hephaestus’s cabins are where the real challenge is.”
“What about the claiming rate? Someone said the gods would claim us more now,” a girl asks, standing from her sitting position with a bounce, hope in her eyes. 
“Uh, um...” Travis falters, looking down at Connor for guidance. It’s hard to notice but Connor bites his cheeks and just barely shakes his head.
“Claiming, yeah. I’m not too sure about that. I’ll talk with Chi — Tantalus about that. Tantalus is the activity director now in case you all don’t know,” Travis answers. 
There’s a chorus of groans. 
Someone grumbles, “It’s been years.”
“What happened to Chiron?” another asks.
“Temporarily relieved of duty due to, uh, an investigation of his effectiveness on the job. Which, if you ask me, Chiron has been doing a fantastic job of and we should all write a very strongly worded letter to Zeus to get him back on his job.”
A boy in front of Michael shoots his hand up. 
“I heard Luke went all ‘Anakin Skywalker’ on us and joined Kr—”
Connor blows an air horn and interrupts the boy before he could finish. Travis’s smile is strained as he says, “Okay, first rule on Camp Half Blood for the foreseeable future! No mentioning any of the bad guys by name. Names have power. Instead we will refer to him by initials. The evil titan guy will be called K.T. K for his first letter and T because he controls time.” 
“Can we change it to K.K. Slider?” the same boy says.
Beside him, a girl socks the boy in the arm. “No! How dare you sully K.K.’s name like this?”
But Travis is already jumping down his bed, landing with grace. “K.K. Slider it is. That’s all for the morning announcements. Now everybody gets in a straight line. We’re going to the pavilion for breakfast and it is the best thing ever. You can literally get whatever you want. All you need is the power of imagination. Well, imagination and common sense. Don't imagine something you won’t eat. It’s not a contest to create the grossest food.” 
Connor follows down after his brother with a grin and shrugs. “But if it was, I would win.”
Growing up, Michael is what everybody called a ‘problem child.’ Absolutely zero friends not helped by him picking and starting fights for the ‘smallest’ reasons. No remarkable talent except for his athleticism. Mediocre to poor grades due to inability to focus (and it doesn’t help that he’s dyslexic and that his teachers all hate him and that he has a homing device for all the school’s bullies). 
The teachers blamed his mother for his attitude and academic abilities. But they don’t know shit. His mother helps him with his homework after coming back from work. His mother searches for ways to help him manage his ADHD and dyslexia. His mother is raising five kids all by herself with zero help from his deadbeat dad. Going to their extracurricular activities, funding their education, making time to have game and movie nights. His mother is literally Superman for finding time to do all that across five children. No. Make that six. Mom always attends Lee’s band performances and includes him with all their activities and outings and supports him the way Lee’s own mom should be doing. 
Michael’s pretty sure his mom isn't the problem.
Besides his four younger siblings are literal angels. Clearly, the problem is him. Not his mother. 
That’s why going into high school he had every intention of becoming a better son, a better brother, and a better student. Set a better reputation for his family, you know?
Unfortunately, this whole mess with him being half-god kinda put a pause on his plans. 
And put every weird thing Lee ever did into perspective. 
That one time Lee slapped his brand new Nokia cellphone out of his hands and ended his cell’s short life by stomping the hell out of it? Those dozens of times Lee lectured him about not using technology with his stupid excuse of ‘it rots your brain, Michael. Don’t touch it,’ despite Lee himself using a phone and a laptop on a daily basis?? Those hundreds of times Lee excused himself from dinner, movies, and the middle of game nights to ‘use the bathroom’ and coming back with a thin layer of gold dust??? Those weird dreams he gets of standing on top of a broken, tethering bridge and falling thousands of meters to his death in a ravine and Lee saying, ‘it’s just a dream. Don’t worry about it’ with a high-pitched, forced laugh that says he should be worrying????
Now he sees what it was all about. Obviously a metaphor for the earth-shattering revelation of his heritage. 
He’s half- god . A demigod. Some part of him came from an immortal being.
It makes him see his dad in a whole new light. 
Like, Michael always knows his dad is an asshole, leaving his mom and whatnot. 
But now? Knowing his dad is a literal god in the Greek myths he read back in 6th grade? Those freaky assholes with their crazy sex adventures and ego-driven tantrums?
At least the fantasy asshole dad he had in mind didn’t commit mass genocide or is an egotistical, narcissistic jerk or had sex with their siblings, parents, animals, and who knows what else freaky shit the gods like to stick their dick in to. 
And the most bizarre thing is that he’s expected to honor them by throwing the best parts of his meal into the fire. 
Well, he’s not gonna.
“Throw your food into the fire, Mike,” one of his counselors says beside him as he tosses a bag of M&M into the flames. 
“Why should I?”
“So the gods don’t get angry,” says the other counselor, throwing half of his strawberries — Michael stares at the plate. It’s just strawberries. Nothing else. That’s not healthy — into the fire before turning to help the others. 
“They’re gonna threaten us if we don’t worship them? Sounds like a pretty unhealthy parent-child relationship,” Michael says. 
The one that tossed the M&Ms shrugs. “Just toss something in. It can be anything. Even something you ha— don’t care about. That’s what I do. I don’t think Hermes minds.” 
But what Michael hears is that this Hermes fella doesn’t give a shit. 
A small boy with round glasses wedges in between them, frowning, and tosses in a sausage link. “Don’t listen to Connor. You’re never going to be claimed if you listen to him.” 
Connor shrugs again. “Hermes hasn’t disowned me yet.”
“That’s because Hermes is busy with other things. The other gods don’t have a child plotting to usurp—” the kid starts to say but at Connor’s harsh nudging and loud cough and not so subtle nod towards the others in the pavilion and (kind of scary) glare, he shuts up. A second passes before the boy says to him, “Everybody likes to feel appreciated, Michael. Even gods. It’s good to remind them we’re here for them. Now more than ever.”
Michael frowns at the exchange. Child? Usurp? Usurp who? The gods? Yeah. Like that is even possible. 
“What were you trying to say—”
“So I see you got over your embarrassing loss,” Connor interrupts with this infuriating smug grin. “Man, I would have hidden my face for like a year after the way I kicked your ass.” 
And just like that, Michael forgets everything but that day back in March when he met the brothers. It’s an obvious bait and Michael just lunges for it like the dumb fish he is. 
“No, I kicked your ass. Kicked it all the way down the stairs,” Michael huffs at Connor’s heel as they walk to the table. Connor slides into the first open spot he sees and Michael sits down across from him, elbow to elbow to his cabinmates. They need a bigger picnic table. 
“Ass?” Besides Connor, Miranda’s head swivels to face them, her smile innocent but Michael knows better now. Behind that sweet smile is a demon. “Who kicked whose ass? ” 
“We met Michael back in March when we hopped in Lee’s car and we’re not using that language, Mikey,” Travis says, sitting down beside Connor slurping a mouthful of cereal. 
“So? Who won?” Miranda asks, leaning over to slide scrambled eggs onto Travis’s plate and picking off 75% of Travis’s many, many strawberries from his plate. 
Travis stares at the egg with disdain. “Connor won, of course. And I don’t want that. Take it back.” 
“Will said you need something more than just strawberries in the morning. Doctor’s orders. Disobey and you’ll feel his wrath,” Miranda says. 
For half-a-second, Michael thinks Travis is going to fight but he turns back in his seat and just grabs his fork. 
“There’s nothing wrong with just strawberries for breakfast,” Travis grumbles, stabbing his fork into the scrambled eggs. “Right? Nothing wrong with strawberries.”
“I think that depends on the quantity but don’t worry, Travis. I totally got you,” Connor says, pulling out a basket of strawberries and ducking from Miranda’s sudden lunge for it. With ease, Connor holds Miranda back while Travis indulges in his unhealthy obsession with a satisfied, blissed smile. 
Michael thinks of the half Travis threw into the fire and before he knows it, he’s saying, “You really love strawberries, don’t you?” 
Travis nods, mouth full. “Favorite food in the world.”
“Then you must like your—” 
But Travis’s eyes shoot to a girl entering the pavilion, heading straight towards the table with the plant-speaking kid, and Michael knows his words are falling on deaf ears. Travis nudges Connor and whispers into his ear, a shit-eating grin sprouting on Connor’s face as he looks over his shoulder. 
Miranda catches their grins and stands, yelling, “Katie, wait!”
But Katie sits down and Michael hears what is probably the world’s loudest, strongest whoopee cushion rip through the pavilion. Travis and Connor laugh as Katie stands back up, cushion in hand and face flushed tomato red.
“Welcome back, Miss Tattletale!” Travis yells. 
“That was months ago, you pieces of — of — fertilizers! Give me a break!” Katie roars. The ground rumbles as a tree sprouts beside the table, hooking Travis and Connor up by the back of their shirts. They’re way too calm as they’re dangling several feet in the air. In unison, both brothers pull out squirt guns and aim them at Katie. 
And it is definitely not water judging by the smell. 
[9 AM, Sword Fighting]
Lee said he was a demigod. That monsters are real. And that they sometimes must fight off the monsters that come to eat them. 
Michael never really thought about what it entailed. What they’re supposed to fight the monsters with. 
Dimly, he’s aware of his counselors talking. Something about introduction to swordsmanship and the bare basics plus safety today, then tomorrow they will be training with Ares? Apollo? ‘Some god with the letter A’ cabin and learning a few techniques. He isn’t really paying attention to them as he stares at the blade in his hands. 
It’s real. It’s a real, metal blade. And by the looks of it, everyone has one. Even the little 9-year-old. What the fuck? That’s how old the twins, Sam and Carly, are and holy shit. The thought of them with a real sword? The thought of them having to use it to battle some mythical monster? It's enough to make him vomit. 
“Michael? Michael, hey.” Someone is snapping their fingers in front of his eyes and he knocks the hand away, glaring at … at … well, it’s either Travis or Connor, staring at him blankly, but he can’t tell who’s who yet. They should have worn nametags. 
“What?”
“Have you ever used a sword before?”
Michael kinda felt it should have been obvious, but he shakes his head. 
“Okay, well imagine you’re holding a kitchen knife and you’re cutting some veggies for a veggie soup but instead of a broccoli, it’s a monster and instead of small dainty cuts, you’re making big, wide, full power slashes. So nothing like what I told you to imagine. Forget I said that. You want to grip it like this with both hands—” Connor (or Travis?) demonstrates and Michael mimics the action, “—for the most control. You can try one-handed but the strikes tend to be flimsy at best unless you’re gifted like Clarisse or Percy. You want to kill the monsters as fast and in one go as you can while still being safe. Here’s—” he is walked over to a hand-made, hand-stuffed dummy with straws sticking out its seams. A happy face on a yellow sticky note stuck to where it’s head is. “—a practice dummy for you. Give it a few swings and get a feel for the weapon. I’ll be right back with more pointers after helping everyone. You good to be by yourself a bit?”
Then Travis (Connor?) is leaving after Michael hesitates to say ‘no, I’m not good’, taking off with a thumbs up and a crooked grin.
Michael almost called him back, but they’re a big cabin.  Only a quarter of them have been gotten too, the other three-fourths goofing around while waiting their turn. Michael has never been to a summer camp before, nevermind one as strange as this, but he guesses they’re on a tight schedule. 
So he looks down, readjusts his grip, and swings, missing spectacularly, losing his balance, and nearly taking his eye out. 
[10:00 AM, Archery]
Michael didn’t need much help here.
The bow feels right in his hands. His body knows what to do, his arms pull back the bow like it has done this a million times and his first shot lands dead center in the bullseye. 
The next five shots are the same.
“Woah,” his counselor mutters, face scrunched in thought before it lightens up, blue eyes shining with a gleam. “You’re a natural. Hey, you wanna be the archery tutor? I’ve never seen anyone aim so well and had such perfect form. Not even Annabeth.”
Michael lowers the bow and tries to figure out how he did what he just did despite never once using a bow before in his life. 
[11:00 AM, Greek Mythology]
Michael knew Lee was a decent teacher, tutoring him in both English and Math, so it’s no surprise he’s decent at teaching Greek mythology too. All the campers are in the amphitheater with hand made wooden desks courtesy of the girl from breakfast. Lee is in the center with an overhead projector just having the time of his life explaining what each of the 12 Olympians plus Hades represents with a mind map. 
He tries to pay attention. He really did. He gets through listening to Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, and part of Demeter’s history before his attention is pulled away by Travis and Connor. They’re far away from the group, beside the cabins,  hunched over a … birdbath? It looks like they’re arguing to the birdbath, but Michael squints and with his perfect vision sees that there is a person. On the surface of the birdbath. A girl with blonde hair. There’s a girl in the water of the birdbath. 
There’s a girl. In the water. Of a birdbath. 
Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. Food pops into existence with a thought. A girl can grow fullass trees without blinking an eye. Miranda can toss a boy almost twice her weight over her shoulder.
So what if the camp has a Moaning Myrtle?
Before he knows it, Lee is done, Michael misses the other 8 Olympian’s tales, and everybody is packing up their notes to head back to their respective cabins.
They’re ending early to have enough time for a tour of the camp. Which is kind of telling where their priorities are when they hold training first over the tour. 
It’s kind of even more telling what the camp’s view of safety is when there’s a climbing wall that spews lava and when asked about why there’s lava, Travis and Connor say cheerfully in unison,  ‘it’s more exciting that way.’
“Hey, Travis,” a kid starts, tugging on one of the brother’s sleeves. 
“I’m Connor, but yeah?” Connor corrects, turning to face the camper.
“Um, I heard from someone in the Ares Cabin that because of us, we’re in war with Kro—K.K. Is that true?”
Connor smiles and shakes his head. “No. We didn’t do anything.”
He didn’t refute the war part though. 
And as if Connor hears his thoughts, he addresses the cabin, “You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. But monsters are still a thing so you still have to go to the morning training. No way out of those. Sorry.”
[12:30, Lunch]
Michael is starting to think Travis is some kind of strawberry fanatic and that’s putting it lightly. 
There’s another concerning amount of strawberries on his plate coupled with a grilled cheese sandwich and a salad, yes, but that’s way too many strawberries for one day.
“No such thing,” Travis says, scraping half of his ungodly amount into the fire. 
“I think there is a limit though.” Connor shrugs, tossing a bag of M&M right after.
Michael follows them to the table, even more cramped now. Five new campers, unclaimed, arrived late because of road traffic. He tucks himself into the first opening he sees, shoulder to shoulder and elbow to elbow. Many inches too close in his opinion. 
“Travis,” Michael starts, thinking back to breakfast, “You’re claimed, right? You know who your godly parent is?”
“Yup, Hermes. God of Pranksters,” Travis says, stabbing his fork into a lettuce and turning to wave it at Lee’s table which is much more roomier. Lee catches the action and nudges a boy beside him with an elbow, snickering. The boy turns and rolls his eyes at Travis. 
“You like your dad, right?” Michael asks. 
A quarter of the cabin immediately stops talking and not really subtly turns to them. He’s pretty sure he’s breaking some sort of taboo. Not that it bothers Michael all that much. 
“Yeah, of course I do. He’s pretty cool,” Travis responds, rolling a cherry tomato around with a fork and not looking him in the eye. 
“Why?” It feels like everyone in the cabin is staring at them now, but even then Michael can’t stop.
“‘Why?’” Travis repeats, twirling the fork. Michael can’t help but notice Connor gripping his fork tighter and he has a vivid image of the boy stabbing it into him. Connor seems like the type. “He’s my dad. I think I’m supposed to like him.”
“But he never talked with you though, right? He has never been there for you. How could you possibly like him?”
Travis shrugs. “He’s a god. He’s probably busy.”
Michael frowns. His mom is busy too. Granted, busy with normal things like a job but she still finds the time to tuck his siblings to bed. Still finds the time to cook breakfast and dinner for them. Still finds the time to make movie nights. Still tell them every day, without fail, that she loves them. Is still there for him and his siblings. 
“So it doesn’t bother you? The way your relationship is with him right now?” Michael pushes. 
Travis fidgets with his strawberries, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like French. 
“What was—” Michael starts to say, but Connor glares, hard. Michael thinks he can see the promise of pain and suffering Connor will inflict upon him. Guess he’d just written his name in Connor’s bad book in Sharpie. 
“Look, Michael, it’s the social norm around here to not talk about our godly parents. Especially in ways that demean them.”
Social norm? Like he cares about something as trivial as that. 
“I just want—”
“Drop it, Michael. Travis’s relationship with our dad is none of your business,” Connor snaps. 
Travis is quiet, a hand resting on a cheek as he stabs into a strawberry, red juices spattering over lettuce and grilled cheese. 
“I want his approval. He’s my dad. What kid doesn’t want their parent’s approval?” 
Lee pulls him aside as lunch wraps up, leading them a bit away from the others.
“Michael, can you chill with the public grilling for a bit?”
“I just don’t get the worship around here for them though,” he argues. 
Lee falters, thinking about his words. “Michael, for some of us, our godly parent is the only one that cares.”
“Wait, are you saying your dad talks to you here?” Michael says. He doesn’t really know what the whole deal is going on with Lee and his mom, but he knows enough to know that Ms. Fletcher deserves the worst mom of the century award. 
Lee frowns a bit and shakes his head. “We talked once when I was claimed but other than that, no. Not really. And none of my half-siblings said anything to me about him either. But he’s already doing so much more than the other gods.”
“Really? Like what?” 
And Lee answers without hesitating, “He claims us as his.”
Michael recalls the talk before breakfast and the questions. About claiming. About waiting. About giving up. The bitterness in their voices. The longing. The yearning. And a sinking feeling grows in the pit of his stomach. 
“How long did it take for you to be claimed?” he asks. 
“I was claimed the second I stepped onto Camp. Apollo tends to be rather fast when it comes to claiming his children. The longest he ever went without claiming is one week. Demeter claims fast during the fall and winter months when Persephone is away. Hephaestus takes on average a month or so to claim.”
“And the slowest god at claiming?” 
Lee’s eyes narrow in thought. “Let’s see… Ares, Athena, Aphrodite, and Hermes seem to be the slowest.”
“How slow?”
“Slow as in… months, years.”
“Why?”
Lee looks away in discomfort. “Who knows? We shouldn’t speculate though. That’s just asking for a curse.”
He catches up to his cabin gathering for the next event and when he asks around about the claiming rate, he gets a mixture of answers. 
“Because we’re not their favorites,” Miranda says cheerfully, while arm-wrestling (and clearly winning) with a flushed Sherman. 
“Because we have to prove ourselves first,” the kid with the glasses states, eyes fixed on his shoes.
“Because they forgot we existed,” others say. 
“Because they want something from us.”
“Because they don’t want the responsibilities of a parent.”
“Because they don’t care.”
“Because they don’t think we’re worth it.”
“It’s because they suck ass,” one of the older campers says with dead serious eyes as Travis chokes on his strawberry, tossing the rest of the fruits into the fire, plate and all. 
“Shh! Celise, you’re gonna get cursed! Everybody, no bad-mouthing the gods or you’ll be turned into a snail and as cute as snails are, I like you all as humans.” 
The camper shrugs and whispers, it’s true . 
Trust me, they whisper next as they’re pulled aside by Travis’s frantic tugging.
They don’t care.
All of this is truly making him appreciate the gods more. 
Connor whistles for everybody’s attention, standing on top of a rock with a piece of paper. 
“It’s free choice from now until 3:30. Each counselor is hosting a different event. Travis and I are doing canoeing. Silena will be hosting horseback — that needs to be changed to pegasi — riding. Malcolm, you will take over for Annabeth since she isn’t here yet for the intro to Origami. Katie will be watching over the wall climbing. Lee, intro to guitar and lyres. Beckendorf, intro to welding. Pollux will be taking over Clarisse’s place at the arena for additional sword and archery lessons. And Castor will be teaching DIY soda. Here’s a map for each of you where everything is. Any questions? Yes, you, in the back. Hao, right?”
Michael takes the map, finds Lee’s name, finds the corresponding location, and then crumples the flimsy paper in his hands. 
But before he can walk away, Miranda is there in front of him and tugging him by the arm with a beaming smile. 
“Follow me for a sec? I want to show you something. It will be quick, I promise.” 
 [1:30 PM, Free Choice]
“Everybody gets a celestial weapon,” Miranda explains as they walk to the armory, “It KOs the monster and turns them into gold dust if it nicks them in the flesh just enough.”
Gold dust… like the gold dust Lee comes back sometimes covered in? 
She leads him to an unassuming building beside one of the cabins, opening the door and revealing shelves stocked full of weapons. Miranda strides to the back without a double-take. Like it’s normal for a summer camp with children to have a stockpile meant for war. 
“Do you have a preference?”
“I… uh…”
“Want some help? Based on what I saw in training, I think you’re better suited with something long-range. You looked uncomfortable with a sword. Aha! What about this?“
Then Miranda pulls out a rifle from one of the boxes. 
Michael stares at it for a full second, wondering if he’s imagining it, wondering if Miranda is kidding, wondering if this whole day is just one big funny dream. But, no, Miranda remains standing there with a big ol’ grin and rifle in hand and waiting for them to say something.
“No.”
“What? Why not?”
“First of all, it’s a gun. Second of all, I share a room with two of my siblings who get into my shit all the time. Third, my mom would literally kill me if she sees me holding a rifle. And fourth, it’s a fucking gun .”
”It’s okay. This is a magic rifle. If you engage the safety and remove the magazine clip, it turns into a telescope.” Miranda demonstrates it for him and would you look at that. It actually became a telescope. “See? No problem. Mom won’t find out and plus! It actually works as a telescope! You can go stargazing with this thing and also kick any monster-butt.”
“What happens if it goes off and a bullet hits someone?”
“That’s okay too. The bullets are made of celestial metal. It can’t harm mortals.”
“But it’s a gun. And I don’t have a license.”
Miranda shrugs. “You can’t kill a mortal though. I don’t think you need a license if you seriously can’t hurt anyone. But if you don’t want a gun, then we can get you a bow. Apollo’s cabin is full of them. Come on.”
And as Michael follows Miranda out, he mutters under his breath, “Why are you all like this?”
Miranda laughs, spinning around her heels to face him. 
“And you’re like a completely normal kid. If you didn’t pass the barrier, I would have thought Lee brought someone fully human.” 
[2:20 PM, Free Choice]
“What is that?”
Lee does only a cursory glance at where Michael is pointing before going back to tuning his guitar engraved with his name and last initial on the Big House’s porch. “It’s Thalia’s Pine. Someone poisoned it unfortunately. A couple years ago a girl sacrificed herself to save her friends. Her father turned her dying body into a magic tree that protects all of camp. We’re trying to fix it, but it’s kinda slow-going right now.”
“That’s cool. That’s cool, but I’m talking about that .” 
And Lee really looks at where Michael is pointing at. A … well, he doesn’t want to say robotic because there’s no way a robot can move that fluidly, but fine. A metallic bull the size of an elephant is charging towards them, running full speed but going nowhere. It’s like an invisible wall is holding it back. Just a bit aways are five people in a line in full bronze armor and a variety of weapons with two more people running towards them. A girl with a gruff voice is ordering to get into position. 
“Is this some sort of play?” Michael asks, waiting for Lee’s answers but when there’s none, he turns to face him. “Lee?” 
Lee is pale. His guitar falls out of his hands as he stands. 
Michael tenses, alarmed. “Lee?” 
“Shit,” Lee curses for the first time ever. “Fuck.”
Now Michael is really worried. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” 
Lee whirs to face him and Michael doesn’t like the fear, the panic he sees in Lee’s usually calm eyes. 
“Michael, Beckendorf is in the forge. Get him first. Tell him there is a Colchis Bull at Half Blood Hill. Then go get Travis and Connor next — Hey? Michael, are you there?”
A second bull crashes into the invisible wall and they break through. They’re breathing fire. People are being set on fire. People are having their armor melted off. People are being burned. People are being trampled on. People are— 
“Michael!” Lee shakes him hard by the shoulder. “Don’t look at it. Just go run and get Beckendorf.”
Then he’s forcibly turned around and pushed away to the sound of terrified screams and dying cries.  
[3:00 PM, Free Choice]
So that’s a monster. 
And he’s expected to fight one of them? 
The guy who took out the first bull —Percy he thinks is the name — Percy did it with a little help with a flame-resistant man and Percy is about the same age as him. And Clarisse took out the second bull all by herself. So it’s definitely possible. With training and maybe a bow instead of a sword, Michael can do it. 
He can do it. 
Just because it’s possible, doesn’t mean it’s right. Doesn‘t mean it’s normal and fuck. 
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 
How can anyone not see how messed up this whole thing is? Monsters exist and they eat twerps like him? They’ll hunt him for as long as he lives? He’s always going to have to watch his back? He’s always going to have a weapon on him? This is what his day will be like every day? This is normal?  This is what being a demigod means? 
From the porch of the Big House, Michael watches Travis and Connor, amongst a few others with just as many beads on their necklaces, triaging the injured. Passing around nectar bottles and ambrosia brownies, helping them stand, checking their wounds all with an air of professionalism.
They were trained for this. They prepared for this. 
Michael doesn’t like that little fact. 
And speaking of little facts he doesn’t like, one just sits down next to him. When he’s not standing around like a dumbass, he goes to get more nectar bottles from the infirmary where a team of two people is running around tending to the patients. One is Lee. The other, and the clear leader, is the boy in blue scrubs and yellow flip flops. The kid barked orders left and right, telling people where to go, where to place the patients, how to treat the minor wounds until he can get there, basically keeping everything orderly and efficient, all with this air of confidence and calmness. It would have been very reassuring if the kid himself wasn’t this little, baby-faced 11-year-old.
And said 11-year-old is now sitting down beside him, downing a bottle of water then downing half a bottle of red Gatorade. 
Michael is starting to see why Lee doesn’t want his mom to know where Camp Half Blood is. If she ever visited and saw how the camp is being run primarily by pre-teens and teens… well… she’ll probably lose it. 
“Hey,” the kid says.
“Hey,” Michael replies, cautiously. 
Then, silence.
The most awkward silence he has ever experienced as they just sit side by side. 
The kid takes another sip from the Gatorade. 
“You’re Michael, right? You’re Lee’s upstairs friend?”
Michael bristles at the words. “How did you—“
“When the cabins burned down, we stayed at Lee’s apartment for a couple days,” the kid explains, staring at Travis and Connor milling about the battlegrounds. He fidgets with a bandaid on the back of his hand. “This is going to sound really weird, but I thought I heard his voice and your last names match so it might not be my imagination. But do you have a younger brother named Raphael?”
“Yeah, I do. How do you know that?” Michael says, trying and failing to tone back the defensiveness in his voice. God please don’t let Raphie be a demigod like him. 
The kid breaks into a big smile and it really makes him look like the child he is. “We used to be in a class together with Mrs. Rem. How is he by the way? Is he still watching Ninja Turtles? What did he think of the newest episode?”
Distantly, from a dinner chat a long time ago, Raphael mentioned a ‘Will’ who left class because of a stomach ache and was never seen again. He remembered Raphael being really worried. He remembered Raphael even saying that ‘Will doesn’t ever get sick’ and he remembered dismissively saying, “Don’t worry. The kid’s probably fine.” 
There’s no way the kid next to him is that Will. It has to be a coincidence. It got to be. Forget how this kid knows Raphael is a fan of Ninja Turtles. It’s a popular show right now. Somewhere, in this 6.6 billion populated planet, there’s got to be a Will and a Raphael who both go to the same school with a 5th-grade teacher named Mrs. Rem and both watch Ninja Turtles and both love Raphael the sai-welding turtle.
“You went to Hodgkins Elementary School?”
“Yeah.” 
There’s still a chance this is all a coincidence. 
“Your favorite turtle is Raph?”
“Well, it’s Leo now but I used to like Raph.”
Still a coincidence.
“And your name’s Will?”
“It is.”
Just one big coincidence. 
“And you left the classroom—” Michael wracks his brain — when, when did Raphael talked about the kid? — “Because of a stomach ache back in October?” 
For a minute, Will is silent. A minute filled with nothing but the whistle of the wind and commanding yells of campers. Will chuckles, low, as the plastic bottle crinkles in his hands. But when Will speaks, his voice is carefully blank, devoid of emotion. “Not exactly, no. I saw something strange at school that nobody could see and I called my mom, er, my aunt. But she raised me so I considered her my mom. She said to get out, even if I have to lie. So I did. A stomach ache was the easiest to fake. She picked me up from school. I think she was going to take me to camp. But on the drive here… a cyclops showed up and totaled the car. We ran. She told me to go ahead and get help. And I did. Without looking back. I found Lee and he took care of the cyclops but mom… ” 
The kid’s voice is still blank. Emotionless. 
“She died because of me.”
A bitter smile. 
“Because I was too weak. Because I was too scared.”
The bottle bursts in his hand, the red dripping off his hand and staining his scrubs. 
“No one is ever going to die because of me. Not again. Not ever.”
The kid leaves, running back inside when someone screams bloody murder and another voice yells, “Solace!” 
(“Will’s last name was on our vocab lists,” Raphael had said a long time ago. “Solace. It means comfort. That’s so cool. No way can I forget that.”)
Michael continues to sit there, watching the battlefield empty out one camper at a time until everyone injured has been attended to. 
(“She died. Because of me. Weak. Scared.”)
Weak. He understands. Too scared. He understands that too. He experienced all that today with the bulls. 
If it had been at home with his family, at school with his classmates, even at the park with random strangers, what would have happened? He would have fought, right? Adrenaline would have kicked in and he would do something. Or would he have frozen? Just like he did today? Just stood there, watching his family be stomped and kicked and lit on fire until someone kicked him into gear? (“Run, Michael. Don’t look back.”)
No. 
No. Fuck no. Three months. He has three months of this summer camp / orphanage / ‘let’s-all-become-child-soldiers-together!’ hellhole.  He has three months to kick this stupid deer in the headlights reaction. 
(“She died because of me.”)
He’s not going to let anyone die.
[5:00 PM, Free Time]
He finds them in the cabin, one slumped on the bed with an arm over his eyes and the other sitting at the foot with a sketch of the cabin in one hand and a pencil in the other. 
They’re talking about something secret because as soon as Michael slams the cabin door open, their conversation stops. He catches the last sentence though. Are the nightmares getting worse? And god, if these two are okay with everything that just happened today, just handled it all with a face that says this is nothing, then Michael doesn’t want to know what kind of nightmares are troubling them. 
“What’s up?” Connor or Travis, the one on his back, asks, trying and failing to get upright. The arm moves and tired eyes peek at him from underneath. 
“Is it Lee? Does he need us again?” the other asks, tossing the drawing under the bed. 
“You said, whatever problems we have, we can come to you two,” Michael starts. 
They nod together in sync. 
“Then I want you guys to train me until I drop dead. Now until the end of summer.”
[6:00 PM, Dinner]
He barely has his food on the plate when a bright light shines over his head. Flashy. Illuminating. Almost eye-blinding. Michael looks up, squints, and sees the sun with 21 arrows surrounding it, representing the sun’s rays. 
Distantly, he’s aware of a bored voice proclaiming him as a child of Apollo. But all he’s really focused on is his cabin’s, ex-cabin now he guesses, reactions. He can see all their faces down the line. Most are happy. They smile and cheer for him, patting on him on the back and congratulating him. But he can see it, beneath their grins, beneath the genuine elation, is frustration, jealousy, longing. 
(“It's been years.”)
Travis, with his pile of strawberries, bumps him in the shoulder with his own. “Hey, congratulations. Apollo cabin is a lot roomier than ours so you get to actually sleep on a bed.”
Connor nods, tossing an M&M bag into the flames. “Too bad you’re gonna miss the experience of being crammed like sardines on the floor. It’s actually pretty cozy.”
Michael frowns as he conjures up a PB and J sandwich exactly how Mom would make it, cuts it into halves, and toss it in . “Are you guys still going—”
“We’ll still help you,” Travis interrupts, but his smile is impish, borderline devilish.  “But—”
“It comes with a price now.” Connor follows with a just as sordid grin. “Two conditions. One, you have to help us with archery. We’re not bad but we’re not good either and could use a bit more work. Annabeth and I have this sparring contest every week to see who is more proficient in what weapon. She beats me every single time when it comes to archery, but that’s ending this year. And two, you have to be our inside man.”
“Inside man?” Michael asks, already kind of knowing what that means.
“Let us into your cabin. Help us set up pranks in your cabin. Tell us everything we want to know about your cabin. You know. That sort of thing,” Travis says flippantly. 
And before Michael can reject, accept, do literally anything, Travis turns around and walks to the table with this unbearably cheerful hum. “Will is going to regret ever messing with my diet.”
Connor falls in step with a fond smile. “But seriously, Will has a point. You need to balance your meals a bit more.”
For such nice people , Michael thinks as he’s corralled towards the Apollo table by an ecstatic Lee , they can be such dicks. 
[7:00 PM, Volleyball]
“Hey, Lee, when did the monsters start coming for me?” Michael asks as he twirls the volleyball in his hands once, twice and tosses it to Lee. In the background, Michael can hear the yells and cheers of the far more serious, far more competitive match going on. Apparently, there’s a tournament between the cabins and the winner gets bragging rights and no cabin inspection next month. 
Lee isn’t participating. “Our cabin is always clean and orderly,” he had said with pride, though that didn’t stop his half-siblings ( my half-siblings) from making a team and participating. 
“Eh? The monsters? Uh, l-last year,” Lee says, fumbling the ball just like he’s fumbling the lie. 
So it’s been more than a year. 
Michael bites his cheeks as he bends his knees and extends his arms to bounce the ball back.
“And you’ve been taking care of them all this time?” 
“Well, not all of them,” Lee admits, catching the ball with both hands. “A lot of them went away on their own.”
Liar , sings his guts. He’s lying . 
Because Lee is way too nice. Way too selfless. Way too noble to tell the truth that would most definitely hurt. 
“Why? Why didn’t you take me to camp earlier? When the monster started coming? Why now?” he bites out, just barely holding back the snarl. You could have saved yourself years of pain, years of trouble. 
“Because…” Lee looks over to the courts, to where Travis and Connor are arguing with Annabeth (the moaning myrtle girl, Michael realizes). Something about which team Percy should be on. 
(“Your dad is the god of Athletes. Your cabin already have an advantage.”)
(“Okay, but consider this, only Travis and I are claimed. Everyone else on the team could be anyone’s child. And your team is completely made up of god-tier and gifted strategists.”)
(“Your #4 is literally speaking ten languages. He’s got to be a son of Hermes.”)
(“That is a stereotype. Abraham could just be remarkably smart.”)
Lee’s eyes go back to him. “Because I wanted you to have a normal life, to know that there’s more to life than just this. Besides, I’ve been watching you for years. You learn how to do something like it’s nothing after a few minutes. It’s kind of ridiculous and I am lowkey jealous. But if you feel like you’re not ready, I can always—”
“Shut up, idiot. You’re not dropping out of school for me,” Michael grumbles, Lee’s stupid chuckle not at all comforting. 
“I heard you guys are in a war,” Michael says, “Are you fighting in it?”
Lee serves the ball over, high and easy to hit. “Yeah. It feels wrong not to.”
And Michael spikes it back as hard as he can. “But you’re going to college in a few months.”
Lee shrugs, easily leaning forward and kicking it back high into the air for another easy hit. “Julliard is close enough to camp.” 
Michael catches it, tucking it under an arm. “That’s not what I meant. What’s the point of going to college if you might lose an arm or leg fighting in this stupid war? You should just focus on school.”
Lee laughs of all things. “That’s nothing. Will fixed worse.”
Michael bristles at Lee's casualness. “Well, if you’re gonna fight, then I am going too.”
Lee laughs again, tenser this time. “You think your mom is gonna let you?”
“She lets you!”
“Because she doesn’t know what I’m doing. And I’m not the one living with her. Besides, do you even know what we are fighting for?”
“Of course, I do! The enemy is K—” Crap. He never got the full name or title of the bad guy. And somehow he feels like saying Cabin 11’s made up name isn’t going to make Lee take him any more seriously. “I’ll learn more about it. Besides, you’re a great guy. I’m sure you’re fighting for the good guys.”
“Michael, your faith in me is nice but getting involved without knowing the full story is dumb. You’re not fighting.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I —”
Lee’s face hardened the way it does when he’s mad or worried or dead serious. Like that one time Leo microwaved a spoon. Like when Raphael tried to jump down a flight of stairs for a dare. Like when Carly and Sam ran onto the streets without looking. And crap. Michael is 14, practically an adult. He shouldn’t be cowing under Lee’s hard stare anymore. But he is and he’s (slightly, only just slightly) scared. 
“No, you’re not,” Lee says, “Because I don’t want you to fight when you have so little experience. Because your mom will literally kill me if something, anything happens to you. Because something bad will happen to you if you do join this fight. So no. You’re not going to fight. You’re not going to participate. You’re only here to train and enjoy camp life.”
“Fine. Fine. I won’t,” Michael grumbles, ducking his head. “Sheesh, you make it sound like if I join, the camp is done for.”
The hard stare melts back into that familiar, soft, (almost) carefree aura with a shrug and small smile. “I just have a feeling. It’s good to trust your instincts.”
And my instincts are telling me right now that you need to quit. But Michael is pretty sure Lee won’t appreciate it and moves the conversation to the climbing wall and why it’s on fire. 
[9:00 PM, Campfire Song]
“Mom,” Michael says, the phone pressed against his ears. He looks out the window, watching the vibrant flame of the bonfire climb high into the starry skies and the circles of cheerful campers surrounding it. 
“Michael, I was wondering when you would call. How’s camp? Do you like it?” 
“Camp is…Camp is great. Lots of activity. Really unique. I—” I like it dies on his tongue. He doesn’t like it. He might have if there was a bit less training. Luckily his mother didn’t catch that pause.  
“That’s great! Made any new — Carly Yew, are those markers I see in your hands? You better not draw on the walls. Get some paper, baby, okay? Made any new friends?”
“A few.”
“You should invite them over! We can have a nice little movie night together.” 
Michael frowns as he recalls someone, somewhere, saying not to gather in more than threes outside the barrier. It attracts the monsters apparently and Michael isn’t about to test that. “They can't. They’re busy. They’re like—um—they’re head counselors, you see, and have a lot of duties.” Like practically running the camp but he doesn’t think Mom would appreciate knowing that. 
“Well, it’s nice to see you make friends even if they’re a bit older.”
Are Travis and Connor older than him? Possibly. They exude confidence that no normal teen has. Or maybe they have just been here for a long time. And that is all kinds of sad. 
His mom asks him about his day, what he did, if he has something he really likes, and for the next hour, Michael goes into a heavily censored, G-rated, parent-safe tale of his first day at Camp Half Blood. It could have been worse. On his way to the Big House to use the phone, he overheard an older boy telling a couple newbies how a kid fought a Minotaur on his first day here and a girl having to sacrifice herself for her friends. 
Wow, it would suck to be them. 
[11:00 PM]
He meets dad in his dreams. 
Michael doesn’t know why, but he thought Apollo to be a refined god. A serious god. A graceful god. 
Instead he sees a teenager sporting pilot shades and leaning on a flaming red sports car in the dingy parking lot of Camp Half Blood with the early morning sun just breaking the horizon. 
“Dad?” Michael says, (who else could it be?) but still not really sure. “Uh, Apollo?”
And the teen waves, flashing a smile that nearly blinds him. “Michael! It’s so good to finally meet you.”
Before Michael could react, the teen — Apollo — dad — pulls him into a crushing hug that knocks all the air out of his lungs.
Apollo is strangely… warm. But not overbearingly warm. Warm like first snuggling into bed under the covers. Plus he smells like laurel leaves, sweet and bright. And Michael has a vivid flashback of his mom — younger, much much younger —  in the hospital bed smiling at a man in his mid-twenties with a bundle of sheets in his arm.
Michael blinks as Apollo pulls away, holding him at arm's length and looking him up and down with a musing stare. 
“You resemble your mom more than me,” Apollo says with a nod, “Most of my children tend to take after my looks, but you’re different, Mike. I have to say, I like it! I can’t stay long. Godly matters I have to attend to, you know? Here, I got you a gift for making it so far in life. Tell Audrey I miss her and think sweetly about the time we spent together.” 
Apollo is pressing a guitar into his hands with his name engraved in the body and stepping back to get into his car. It’s exactly the same as the guitar Lee has except for the engraving. So not unique by any means. But it is a gift. And mom would kill him for rejecting a gift. It’s rude she says, but Michael doesn’t care about Apollo enough yet to give a fuck. Besides if Lee’s experience is anything to go by, this is probably the last time he’ll ever talk to his dad. He needs to make this moment count for something. 
“Wait.”
Apollo pauses just as the engine roars to life, purring sweetly and the window rolled down. 
“I want to ask for something else.”
Apollo blinks and Michael can see the inkling of annoyance in the young face, but Apollo nods and says without a lick of irritation in his voice, “Sure, shoot.” 
“I want you to spend more time with Lee.” Then Michael has a realization. “You know who Lee is, right? The oldest one in the cabin? About to go to Julliard? Want to become a teacher?”
Now Apollo is definitely irked, a telltale wrinkle in his brow. Michael can now add ‘gods’ to the list of people he can make pissed off. “Of course I know Lee, my little music enthusiast child. How could I not? But I’m a God, Michael. There’s only so much free time I have.”
“Then just a few minutes a week, or even a month. So he knows you care.”
Again a slight scowl, but it lingers for a few seconds more. 
“I do care but okay. Okay, I will.” Apollo shifts the car into drive still a little annoyed. Michael thought that was it. Any minute now he’s going to wake up and start the day, but Apollo sighs, leans back in the leather seat, and hangs an elbow out the window. “Michael, you’re so much like your mother. Caring. Gutsy. Compassionate. It’s crazy how much you resemble her. You’re going to do great things. You’re—” The annoyance drops and for a brief second, Apollo looks grief-stricken. And once again, Michael dreams of falling, of a bridge, of a boat wafting through a chasm of fire. But Apollo smiles that blinding smile, fond, and shakes his head. 
“Don’t worry so much about your family. They’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”
Michael wakes up just as the car drives off, his gut itching. 
Apollo is lying to you.
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