#so i was always vaguely weirded out by people caring about celebrities beyond the content they create

[tokoyamisstuff]

Betrothred Ch. 1 - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Chapter 1: Bride

Summary: After making your choice, there’s no going back from it.

Warnings: Blood, Murder, Threats, Angst

Words: 2390

Story Masterlist

A/N: This first chapter is kinda angsty but it gets better, I swear!

Today is the day.

Even though only mere hours would separate you from becoming a part of the Zoldyck family, the whole situation still felt very much surreal to you.

To be invited and welcomned on their property was one of the greatest honor of all, but to be considered a fitting consort for their eldest son was just unimaginable.

One of the butlers was harshly braiding your hair, trying to get it in a position you’d usually never wear. Another one would be working on your make-up, something you’d usually find unnecessary considering your profession.

Why would an assassin care for their physical appearance anyway? Well, all of this was probably part of some kind of tradition or ritual.

No matter how roughly they were tearing and tugging on you, trying to modify your body until you wouldn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror, you’d take their invasion of your personal space in a calm demeanour.

Because that’s how you were raised.

Obey, endure and function.

Your bloodline had a long history of both feared and powerful Head Hunters, for decaded being third place of all known assassin families - with the Zoldycks claiming the indisputable top.

Torture, poison and death were your fellow comrades throughout your whole youth, even though there were limits:

Only the most promising children would be chosen to become Head Hunters. The others were free to choose their way as they wished.

Your upbringing was strict, yet loving. And it was forbidden to break your free will. Serving the family should be an honor, not a burden.

Other than the Zoldycks, your family believed that emotions could become the surce of strenght.

There were other moral standarts: Murdering children was off limits, for example.

And your ‘carreer’ was just about to begin when it took this unexcpected turn.

You had met your soon-to-be-husband after finally completing your formal training, now allowed to take on the Hunter Exam.

Already accustomed to the basics of Nen, it was easy for you to see behind the disguise of the man calling himself Gittarackur.

At first being rather passive, even as the two of you completed the Trick Tower together, he soon stated to be impressed by your exceptional strenght and capability.

Truth be spoken, you always thought yourself to be mediocre at best. So that sudden compliment hit you off guard, especially after he casually revealed his true identity and heritage.

Immediately after the exam, you gathered all of your courage and asked Illumi to teach you in the ways of a true assassin - so you could grow and become the next leader of your clan.

And much to your surprise, he instantly accepted, not even wanting anything in return. You were useful to him and his missions, he stated. That would be enough.

After that, it wouldn’t take long until the stoic man announced that you’d make for a formidable spouse, asking your father for your hand in marriage.

Even though you weren’t quite sure if you made the right decision, his proposal alone the greatest honor for your kin and you just couldn’t disappoint them.

Illumi had always been very reserved about anything else than his work, making you doubt he was even capable of feeling anything else than the joy of killing.

Yet he was a reliable ally, both smart and strong - and admittedly very good looking. You were convinced that he wasn’t the monster most people saw in him: He had just been molded to be the perfect assassin.

And because of that, he would make for a good husband as well.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful?” The voice behind your back was Kikyo, dismissing the servants with a single gesture of her hand.

You wanted to stand up and make a curtsy as a sign of respect, yet felt her palms on your shoulder, pressing down so you’d remain in your seat.

Looking in the mirror, you saw your mother in law behind your back, her visor making it hard to read her intentions. Her aura gave it all away, though.

Illumi’s proposal surprised her just as much as yourself, and she obviously wasn’t content with it. You actually doubtet that she’d ever consider someone good enough to marry one of her children, so you didn’t take it personal.

The pressure would only help you grow.

“You’ll become the perfect partner for my son, won’t you?” Her fingernails dug deep into your flesh, but you didn’t even flinch. “Of course, honorable mother.”

“Good.” Apparently your answer didn’t calm her fury, since her fingermails only turned in the wounds they dug into your flesh. She only stopped when she realized that the blood was staining your clothes.

“I don’t expect any less from a lowlife like you are.” Seems like you should stay alerted around her. But that was no surprise, and it didn’t scare you either.

You knew what you were getting yourself into. And it was worth it.

To prove your worth, you’d go even beyond your limits.

“It’s time, Y/N.”

Up until now, you hid your emotions very well - but hearing that familiar, monotonous voice, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Illumi!” Kikyo shreeked out, “You’re not allowed to see Y/N before the ceremony!”

“Unnecessary superstition” he retorted quite unaffected, approaching both of you.

Kikyo stepped back, revealing you fully. He took in your appearance, rather observing than anything else. “Is that your blood?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

He grabbed your ankle, forcing you up from his seat to look at him. “How did this happen?”

You didn’t dare answering. It was not your place to drive a wedge between your fianceé and his mother, even though you highly doubtet that he would care at all.

Illumi turned around, his blank stare now directed to his mother, who defendingly put her hands into the air. “I-I was just advising-”

“No need for that” he cut her off. “I can take care of any business concerning my partner myself.”

Now she got all hysterical again, just as you got to know her. “B-but-”

“Never touch them again, or I’ll kill you.”

Kikyo relented, then having a mental breakdown for excactly 5 seconds, screams and cries filling the room.

The air had gotten incredibly thick, the unsettling atmosphere making you wish to just disappear right on spot.

“Oh, Illumi!” she exclaimed, sounding jubilant all of a sudden. “Being so cruel to your own mother...You’ve grown so much!”

What a weird fucking family.

“Show me your arms” Illumi demanded after he told his mother to be left alone, yet you flinched away.

“I apologize for having provoked an argument” you spoke all humble, “My wounds are of no concern. Don’t worry.”

“Starting today, I’m expected to take care of you. So you should obey and let me patch this up.” You sat down with a small sigh, exposing your shoulders and presenting them to him. “It would be a shame if you get scarred by something else than a honorable battle.”

Eventually you found time to appreciate your fianceé’s exterior: Illumi had his hair braided back, wearing a fully black suit with a white shirt and a bow tie.

It was the first time you ever saw him in formal wear, and it actually suited him very well.

“You’re very handsome, Lumi” you absentmindedly blurted out as you watched him bandage the wounds on your shoulder.

And Illumi would acknowledge your looks in his own way. “Your appearance is very adequate for this occasion as well.” That counts as a compliment, right?

“Glad you like it” you smiled, “But sadly the stains won’t get out. And we have no time to clean off the blood.”

Illumi swiftly helped you on your feet once again, vaguely explaining “Don’t worry. It won’t stand out after the ceremony.”

You linked arms with Illumi, who led you to the main room as you still pondered about what exactly he meant with that statement.

The celebration would be a small one, not even your own family being allowed to attend. When you entered the generously decorated hall, there were only Silva, Kikyo, Zeno, Kalluto and Milluki.

“Welcome, Y/N” Silva spoke in a way more welcoming tone than his wife earlier. You bend your head as you stood in front of the table where the family had gathered, greeting them politely before making your way to the altar.

Zeno would be the one to confirm the bond. You were actually glad that it was him, because he had already grown fond of you.

“Are you ready?” the old man wondered, noticing how you were trembling.

“Far away from it” you chuckled without doubt, adding “But I’m prepared to do anything.”

“That’s a honest but brave answer, young adult” he paised in an attempt to calm you down, then arranging both you and Illumi to stand facing each other. “And just what you need to become part of this family.”

One sign of Silva and the door swung open, a Bunch of butlers dragging in a terribly inured human.

Much to your shock, the person was not dead - not yet.

“So it begins” Illumi whispered as he saw the man wince in pain, begging for his life, and he almost cracked something like a smile.

“Wha-” Before you could even comprehend what was happening, it hit you like a brick: You were supposed to finish that person off.

That was what Illumi meant. A few blood stains on your wedding dress really were your smallest problem considering what awaited you from this day on.

“That man invaded our property with the intend to kill us” Silva explained to you, his stare bringing across his demands. “You’ll prove your loyality through ending his life.”

At that moment, you knew that you’ll disappoint them - because you were frozen in place.

You had taken and destroyed so many lives, yet always had the full information on them and could decide through your own standarts. But now?

What if it was a lie? You didn’t know that man, why he was here or if he deserved death.

Maybe he had family or came for revenge. Goddamn it, he could even be a reporter who just sneaked in to snatch a photo! Or they had presented you a completely innocent man, seeing if you were the undoubting slave they wanted to have!

Madness runs in this family, apparently.

It was a test. You knew that much. Quite fitting for someone from a family which was only rank three, known for their rather humane way of working.

“No Nen allowed” Kikyo completed the task, “No guns or similar either. You may only use your bare hands or close combat weapons.”

Yes. It was way harder, imprinting your soul to kill that direct way. How you’d deal with the situation was crucial for the outcome of this wedding. 

But were you really ready to throw all of your morality abroad just for your own sake?

“We won’t kill you if you decline the order” Illumi cut off your brooding. Was it out of sympathy? You had no idea. “You’ll be considered unfitting, but you are free to leave and no one will ever bother you again.”

“N-No” you stumbled across your own words, “I’ll do everything for the family.”

“Interesting” Zeno stated. “I never doubtet your spouse, Illumi, but I thought they'd take longer to decide.”

"I think Y/N will make for a great companion.” Silva’s wide grin streched across his face, making his eyes wrinkle a bit. “In both family and business.”

When all was said and done, Illumi grabbed a knive that was placed on the altar. “Let’s do it together, then.”

You almost felt guilty that you became flustered in a moment like this, but couldn’t help it as Illumi genuinely smiled at you, taking your hand as you took firm steps towards the enemy.

“P-Please have mercy!” the man pleaded to no avail, and determination swelled in your chest at that intense moment.

Taking someone’s life together - it would connect two people in a cruel yet beautiful way.

Whatever else could be more fitting for the marriage of two assassins? 

It would be an easy kill. He was unable to flee or fight back. Just a single strike, ending his life quick as act of mercy.

“You should’ve known better than to mess with my new family.”

Both of your hands intertwined, wrapping your fingers around the handle of the knive before thrusting it into the victim’s chest.

And then it dawned to you.

“A needleman?” you sulked, ripping out one of Illumi’s needles out of the stranger’s head, while the others broke out in boisterous laughter.

“Yeah. He was already dead” Illumi shrugged. “I know you don’t like burdening yourself with victims you didn’t choose yourself. But we needed to test you anyway. It’s a tradition.”

Was he actually respecting your boundaries?! What the-

“I like your guts!” Silva attempted to pat your back, but it felt rather like he was going to break your spine. “Sorry for our harsh methods. I know it can be a bit much at the beginning. You’ll get used to obey our rules slowly, don’t push yourself.

Even Kikyo embraced you, now almost convincing motherly. “Reminds me of my first kill for the family!”

It almost felt like those people could actually feel compassion for others. They at least had undoubtingly strong bonds with each other, even if their way of living together was rather unusual.

Stiff movements as always, Illumi placed his hand on your head, almost as if a robot was trying to mimick human interaction. “I’m proud of you. I knew I chose well.”

The rest of the ceremony was just as you expected it: No vows, no rings, no music, no kiss. Just you and Illumi hearing to whatever Zeno had to say about bringing honor and wealth to the family, bearing strong offsprings, and other things that were the exact opposite from romantic.

“Blood for blood” Zeno stated now instead of “You may now kiss”, and every family member repeated it.

You took the knife from the altar once again, cutting your palm until it drew blood without any hesitation. Illumi would now do the same, then reaching out his hand for yours to hold.

As your fluids mixed before dropping to the floor, you unsucessfully searched for any hint of emotional reaction in your husbands expressionless face.

His eyes however would never leave yours, his hand firmly squeezing yours before Zeno announced:

“Your fates are now inextricably connected.”

____

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#Illumi Zoldyck x Reader #Illumi x Reader #HxH #Illumi Zoldyck #Zoldyck #Arranged Marriage AU #Writing #Self Insert

[reyescarlos]

there’s no way (that it’s not going there)

for my love @sulkybbarnes on your very special day. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARA! my goodness, i’m so glad the universe created you. how lucky we all are that you exist! 💕💜

word count 3.6k || read on ao3

We just dance backwards into each other Trying to keep our feelings secretly covered You touched me and it's almost like we knew That there would be history

As he sits with Michelle inside the Ryders’ backyard, the heat of the late summer evening still kissing his skin, Carlos smiles in contentment at the sight of all his colleagues turned friends and even perfectly good strangers all bound by their shared love for Grace and Judd. It’s because of them that they’ve all gathered today, to celebrate the Ryders’ vow renewal. It’s the perfect atmosphere in every sense, one of joy and festivity.

A few feet away, the happy couple mingles with the small gathering of their family and closest friends. Grace’s melodic laughter soars a note or two higher than the jazz music playing. Judd’s arm is slinked around her waist and Carlos can only stand back and admire the ease to which they orbit around each other. This is what years worth of love looks like. Carlos knows it can’t always have been an easy road, that all marriages— all relationships for that matter— are never without their hardships. But if it leads to something even vaguely resembling this, Carlos wants it at whatever cost.

He’s always been a hopeless romantic, swept up in the belief that finding the right partner could be a salvation. It’s not a sentiment the men he’s seen care to ascribe to. The world of dating hasn’t always been kind to him with Carlos almost always chasing after people who proved themselves adverse to being caught.

He’s vowed to himself repeatedly that he won’t fall down that rabbithole again. But what he hadn’t accounted for was meeting TK Strand, a man that makes Carlos willing to make an exception. TK has only been a part of the fabric here in Austin for a few weeks but he’s already managed to work his way into Carlos’ heart and mind. He hasn’t been able to shake his thoughts about the firefighter since their night at the honky tonk. The attraction he had for TK was instantaneous out on their call earlier that night but it’d only strengthened as they danced later. Ever since, there’s been this energy between them that neither has addressed. But it exists as a third party, living in each stolen glance, each quick retort traded between them like currency.

He and TK have been at this for weeks on end, this constant back and forth where they say so much without actually saying anything at all.

That’s all it ever takes, just one look to light the match. It’s a wonder they haven’t both been consumed by the flames though Carlos would argue he’s been coming dangerously close these last few weeks. At first it was fun, a casual flirty game between the two of them but now Carlos has been getting restless.

He takes in the sight of TK standing with his father under the back awning. Carlos can’t stop himself from giving him a once over, eyes roaming from top to bottom shamelessly. It’s truly a pleasant view with TK dressed up for the ceremony and looking far too attractive than any man has the right to.

“Carlos, if you stare any harder you just might strain those pretty brown eyes for good,” Michelle teases, her hand cupping her chin as she rests her elbows on the table, following where his eyes linger.

Carlos sighs and ruffles his hair slightly, forcing himself to look away from TK and back at her.

“Is it really that obvious?”

Michelle snorts out a laugh, covering her mouth and laughing even harder as Carlos groans.

“Aw, come on, no, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh but my god, Carlos. Do you really think either of you have been subtle this whole time? Anyone that’s spent so much as ten seconds around you both since he blew into town could call it.”

Carlos lifts a brow. “So you see it from him too? It’s not just me, right?”

“Absolutely not. To be honest, I’m actually shocked you guys haven’t hooked up already. It’s long overdue, my friend.”

Carlos picks up his glass for something to do as he thinks it all over.

“I think I just want it to mean something. Maybe that’s dumb, I don’t know but I really like him and we’ve been...in this weird limbo with each other. I don’t know what his endgame is here.”

Michelle tilts her head to the side, casting her glance off Carlos over to TK once more. He’s still caught up in conversation with Captain Strand. The younger Strand must have said something hilarious because Owen cracks a hearty laugh.

“You could do the totally crazy thing of actually talking to him and finding out what his deal is. He seems really into you. He’s been staring at you all night when you aren’t looking and who could forget that night we all went out? I think you got him hooked pretty fast. Reel him in already.”

Carlos chuckles at the analogy but even he can admit Michelle makes an extremely valid point here. This hasn’t been all in his head. Even if they’ve both managed to successfully avoid talking about it, it’s clear that there is something that they’ve been eluding from the moment their paths crossed.

“Screw it. You’re right. I’m going for it.”

Before he can lose his nerve, Carlos sets his glass down and rises from his seat. He can feel the reassuring press of Michelle’s hand on his forearm just before he leaves the table and begins the short but daunting walk over to where TK is standing.

Captain Strand notices him approaching before TK does and the man makes a move that Carlos isn’t expecting. He locks eyes with Carlos and in that brief bit of contact, there’s recognition of some kind and Owen seemingly excuses himself from his son.

Owen walks towards him and gives a polite nod of his head. “Evening, Carlos,” he says as he passes, not slowing down at all and leaving a clear path to TK.

Carlos doesn’t have the time to mull over the implications of this gesture but he makes a mental note of it, marking it as something to investigate later. His main pursuit now is a particular firefighter who has been weighing so heavily in his thoughts for weeks now.

This unspoken thing between them needs to be addressed once and for all. TK looks far too good tonight for Carlos to keep this little game of cat and mouse going any longer. Coming on too strong has more or less always been his problem but this is something he desperately wants and Carlos knows he can’t hold back beyond tonight.

TK soon notices him and stays in place, a slow smile inching across his face. By the time Carlos nestles in beside him, it’s a full on grin. It’s so reminiscent of the first time they ever hung out outside of work. Then, much like now, they were surrounded by this crowd of coworkers and people he’ll more than likely never see again. But it’s all just background noise, so inconsequential in comparison to his primary focus right now.

“Hey,” Carlos greets. It isn’t exactly the smoothest or most captivating thing to say but it had been enough that night out the bar and Carlos is hoping that it’ll prove itself useful enough again now.

TK looks briefly at the party at large, eyes pulling away from the throng of people dancing to Carlos and Carlos’ sense of déjà vu threatens to overwhelm him for the briefest of moments. But he focuses up once more as TK looks at him fully, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

As always, the man’s expression is playful as ever, as if he knows something Carlos doesn’t. Carlos has no doubt that TK is taking a trip down memory lane right now, too. How they were always finding themselves in a scenario like this was beyond Carlos’ comprehension then but it hardly matters. It serves as the perfect ice breaker for them now, a nod to the night that truly set things in motion for them. It makes this feel like a full circle moment, as if everything over the last few weeks has been leading to this.

“Wanna dance?” Carlos asks, tipping his chin towards the other guests bopping to the music.

TK’s eyes roam over his frame but Carlos doesn’t waver or back down. It’s merely part of the script they’ve been reading off of for weeks now. He’s confident that TK will accept, just as he had that night at the bar. The only difference now is that TK’s display of reluctance isn’t him genuinely debating the merits of taking a chance and saying yes, at least Carlos hopes that is the case. They have enough history between them at this point that Carlos feels safe in guessing that they’ve moved beyond that. Now it’s simply banter, a call back to that night.

“Yeah,” TK says after a moment, his perfectly white teeth trapping his bottom lip.

Carlos doesn’t even attempt to downplay how much he notices this, his own lips parting slightly before he pulls his focus back to the task at hand.

Carlos leads them to the makeshift dance floor just as he had that night of the honky tonk. TK falls into step with him, the two dancing along to the uptempo number playing throughout the yard. It’s all too easy to tune everything and everyone else out as he feels both their guards lowering even further. TK is all smiles and it’s the most infectious thing ever.

They dance for a while together, their smiles growing bigger with each new song that plays. Carlos is breathless and yet he can’t seem to stop himself from moving. But a new song comes on, the opening tone far more subdued. Carlos looks to TK, his face covered with a slight sheen of sweat. It makes Carlos’ breath hitch and he can’t help but to want to keep going, even though this is a different terrain than they’ve been dabbling in thus far.

“Do you still want to—,” Carlos begins to ask but TK answers in actions, not words as he slips his arms up over Carlos’ shoulders and begins to sway to the music.

This part is the variable, the break from their usual bit. Instead of dancing around each other with no real contact, they’re now wrapped up closely with TK hugged to his frame, their bodies pressed together, enough for Carlos to feel the firmness of TK’s chest against his.

This feels right in a way that Carlos can’t even begin to put into words. He wonders if maybe everything feels heightened because of where they are and what they’re celebrating tonight. But that still doesn’t change what he’s experiencing now, the rush of having TK’s warm body in his arms, more alive than anything. Even though they’re now moving slower than they have all night, Carlos feels the most electric now. It only instills what Carlos has known all along. This is so much more than a crush, it always has been, but now it feels like a tangible thing, a very real possibility and a step up from the hypothetical.

TK peers up at him as they continue to rock gently and Carlos can feel the man’s breaths as they fan across his face like the gentlest, most subtle breeze. The longer Carlos stares back at him, the more he realizes how uneven TK’s breathing actually is, the way it stalls and starts. The only explanation is that TK is nervous. Carlos is well-versed in reading people. After all, he literally gets paid to assess situations. He’s seen countless people he’s interviewed on a call panic and grow uneasy. He’d know the telltale signs of an anxious person anywhere.

“Relax,” he murmurs quietly, just low enough that the words get trapped between the two of them, safe in this private bubble. His hands hold even more firmly, more reassuringly to TK’s hips as if to remind him that Carlos is truly right here holding on to him, keeping him upright and present in this moment.

TK blinks twice and licks his lips. Carlos tries to take his own advice and settle his racing heart but even without meaning to, with doing something as mundane as wetting his lips, TK is getting under his skin. There’s something about this hazy summer night that’s making his mind feel like it’s drifting, floating like the fireflies that flicker on and off in the yard. It’s as if they’re under a spell of some kind. Carlos can’t remember the last time he’s felt a pull this strong towards someone, as if they’re a planet and he’s a helpless moon sucked into their gravity. And yet still, TK makes him feel grounded.

“Carlos, what is this?” TK asks, his voice barely above a whisper. But Carlos catches it all with how close they are to each other, with how much he always seems to hang off TK’s every word.

It would seem that Carlos isn’t the only one keen on getting answers tonight.

“The beginning of us, I hope,” he replies.

Carlos isn’t sure where that boldness comes from but with the words out there, there’s no way for him to snatch them back or undo them. And frankly, Carlos realizes that he doesn’t want to. Clear cut answers. A line drawn in the sand. Clarity. That’s what they need now. Tiptoeing around feelings or pretending as if they aren’t there at all is no longer something that he can accept.

TK eyes him for a moment before slipping his arms off of Carlos’ shoulders, letting them fall at his sides. Speaking outright about this thing that’s been brewing between them is in clear violation of the unspoken rule, he knows but if TK was bold enough to ask, Carlos figures he was right in matching that. Yet now TK is pulling away and Carlos fears he’s said too much, his bravado from only seconds ago now dwindling. But before he can dwell on it for too long, TK is grabbing hold of one of his hands and tugging him off the dance floor.

Carlos knows better than to ask questions then. Wherever TK wants to take him, Carlos will willingly go. TK leads him out of the yard, ignoring the piqued interest of their coworkers who no doubt have questions and assumptions about where these two are headed off to. But Carlos takes a page out of TK’s book and tunes them out as well. Instead he focuses on how easily their hands slot together as if they were designed to hold on to each other.

They come around the side of the house to the front of the Ryder household. A few guests are milling about outside, chatting among themselves. Carlos doesn’t recognize any of their faces, the entire lot of the 126 now left behind in the yard.

TK keeps moving forward, beginning to walk down the block, raking a hand through his hair.

“TK?” Carlos ventures, starting to grow a bit concerned.

With an abrupt stop in his tracks, TK turns to look at Carlos before taking a seat on the curb. They’re only two houses down from the festivities and can still hear the revelry of the reception but it’s distant enough that Carlos feels far removed from it all. TK looks up at the sky, his face bathed in a wash of moonlight, half his features thrown into shadow from the lamppost a few feet away. Carlos settles in beside him, wrapping his arms around his legs.

The silence between them is heavy and with how unmoving TK is now, Carlos knows he’ll have to be the one to breach it if they’re going to get anywhere with each other.

“I know I’m not losing it here, am I?” Carlos asks. “I haven’t been imagining this vibe between us, right?”

TK looks down at his hands and shakes his head. “No, something is definitely happening. I just...it’s starting to feel real now and that’s not something I was expecting to find out here in Austin.”

Carlos considers this for a moment. “But is that necessarily a bad thing?”

It’s then that TK focuses back on him. “That’s what I’m still trying to figure out. It’s one thing to BS and flirt but it doesn’t feel like a game or a tease anymore. If it gets serious, there’s no going back and I don’t know what that’ll mean.”

Carlos’ brows furrow. “And you don’t know if this is worth it?”

“It’s so much more than that,” TK sighs. “Long story short, I left behind a lot of baggage in New York.”

Carlos knows what that’s code for. “What's his name?”

“Alex,” TK mutters, a hint of disgust coating the two syllables. Carlos doesn’t press for details. He simply nods his head in understanding and stays quiet for a beat.

“I can’t speak to this guy and whatever went down between you two but from what I know of you, I think you’re amazing. I’m sorry he made you feel like you can’t take chances or fall for someone again. But, I’m here, TK. I’m here and I’d like to see where we could go from this point.”

TK frowns and fiddles with his fingers again. “If you knew everything, I’m not so sure you’d still feel that way.”

This is a different version of TK than Carlos is used to but he welcomes that. Gone is the facade, the carefully crafted demeanor the man maintains in public. Here with just the two of them on a quiet street under the night sky, Carlos feels like he’s getting to the heart of TK and he likes what he sees. Certainly the man is in a self-deprecating mood, a complete shift from the confident guy out on the dance floor. But he’s being forthright about himself and Carlos can respect anyone that’s being candid. It’s an admirable trait and makes TK even more real to him.

“Maybe you could give me the chance to decide that for myself? Or to show you that I’m serious about this.” Carlos cringes a bit then, worried he’s coming on too strong considering TK’s hesitancy. “I don’t...I hope you don’t feel pressured here. I’m sorry if I’m—”

“No. Honestly, you aren’t making me feel like that. If anything, it’s the exact opposite. You make me feel...free. To possibility, to everything. I don’t know. There’s something about this town and the people here. Nothing is going at all like I expected it to, which is a very, very good thing.”

Carlos smiles softly at this. “Glad I could play a small part in that.”

TK knocks his shoulder lightly against Carlos’ and that tiny bit of contact sends his heart racing.

“Not a small part, believe me.”

Carlos bites back on the corner of his bottom lip and holds his hand out in the small space between them, palm up towards TK who smiles at him before accepting it. They sit in companionable silence for a moment before TK rests his head against Carlos’ shoulder. The reception is still in full swing with voices and music carrying over but Carlos couldn’t be happier with where he is now.

It makes him think loosely of that Oscar Wilde quote. He is quite literally in the gutters with TK now and yet there’s such a beauty to it as they both watch the stars beside each other for a short while with TK still resting on him.

“I could be good for you. Whenever you’re ready. If you’re ever ready,” Carlos amends, stroking his thumb along the back of TK’s hand.

TK sits up and Carlos shifts to face him. TK’s normally bright eyes are darkened now, his expression calculating as if he’s trying to make his mind up about something. Before Carlos can ask what’s on his mind, TK is leaning in, his lips pressing gently against Carlos’.  There’s no rush to it, no haste as if TK is trying to prove something by kissing him. It feels more like an exploration, a tentative dive into uncharted waters.

Carlos matches his pace, leaving this all entirely in TK’s hands but he’d be lying if he said his mind isn’t already spiraling, his thoughts running away from him to the point where all he can think about is the mouth keeping time with his own. TK’s ability to make himself Carlos’ sole focus reaches new heights with this now. Carlos wants all of him, to swallow him whole and keep every bit selfishly for himself.

TK deepens the kiss and Carlos follows his lead, his hands grasping gently onto TK’s hair. TK responds in kind, his nails dragging down Carlos’ back. TK kisses him hungrily and Carlos serves it right back. This is weeks’ worth of tension bubbling to the surface, completely unfiltered. It makes Carlos feel delirious, his breath catching and blood pumping in his ears.

TK lets out a small whimper and pulls away sharply, both of them breathless and panting.

“I’m sorry,” TK says, licking his lips and pressing his fingertips against his mouth.

Carlos shakes his head, waving him off politely. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

TK breathes out shakily, lowering his hand and searching Carlos’ face with urgency.

“I still want to take this slow. I just got a bit carried away there for a second.” Even in the dark, Carlos can see the slight pink tinge to TK’s face.

Carlos leans in and gives him a soft kiss on the cheek, taking his hand again and entwining their fingers.

“Progress is progress no matter the pace,” Carlos says simply. “Point is, we’re moving forward together. That’s all I could ever ask of you.”

#tk x carlos #tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #sulkybbarnes #ronenrubinstein #userjilly #sunshinestrand #starlightbuck #userpauline #userthai #useralie #usermaximus #usermaddiee #userbones #brilliantbanshee #kimmy writes

[whumpsideblog]

Home

2385 words of self indulgent backstory and stuff. This is mostly just a rambling thing I wanted to get out, and has no bearing on the actual story with Silas. I have a weird fixation with backstories and there really isn’t space in the main story to go into it so I wanted to get it out here, so it’s very messy and unpolished. Since it’s pretty much all backstory I’m not even tagging it with whump

tw for mentions of past child abuse ***  “Home” was an odd concept to him.

  At one point home had been a cold cell in the basement of a sprawling manor, a building he only saw from the outside when he was being rescued from it. His earliest memories were all there, he assumed that he’d been born in that cell and he knew he was supposed to die in it too. He had vague memories of a mother he couldn’t quite recall clearly aside from a kind voice and dark wavy hair like his own. He knew that she was there at one point and then one day she was gone, and he couldn’t even remember her well enough to miss her. 

 Occasionally other people came through their cell, but him and Dahlia always stayed, though at that point they weren’t “Silas” and “Dahlia”, only ��boy” and “girl”. He remembered their actions better than their faces, remembered the ones who were kind and treated them as the vulnerable children they were and the ones who would gladly throw them to the vampires before ever sacrificing themselves. None of them lasted long though, some of them fought too hard, some not hard enough, and some were just brought in too “late” in life.

 His master preferred young blood, when they got to a certain age they would be “disposed of”. He knew that one day they’d be disposed of too, Dahlia first, and then him two years later. He only knew his age because their master liked to remind them of their expiration date, ironically the same as their birthdays. He didn’t want to die, naturally it upset him knowing his death was decided since he was born, but it always upset him more knowing he’d have to live two years without Dahlia by his side.

 And then they were rescued. He was twelve years old, Dahlia fourteen, when the scariest man he’d ever seen- even scarier than their master- entered their cell and told them they were safe. He didn’t feel safe, in fact he was terrified, they weren’t allowed to ever leave that cell, much less the manor itself. They both panicked, they refused to leave at first and eventually the man just lifted them both up, one thrown over his shoulder and the other held under his arm and carried them out. At the time Silas thought he was the strongest man ever, not thinking about the fact they were severely underweight, only ever given food before they were fed on. 

 He remembered the moment they were brought outside, it was hard to see at all, his eyes weren’t used to such bright sunlight, and despite the fact it hurt he was desperate to see the outside world. He’d loved the sun from the moment he stepped outside though, he loved the warmth, the brightness. He missed it dearly now.

 After that home was living with the hunter, Vernon, and his husband, Theo. Vernon was tall, broad and terrifying, he had thick dark hair that he wore long and a scarred, angry face that always softened when he looked at Theo. His husband was tall and lithe, with long blonde hair and a gentle voice that would calm Vernon in an instant. Though they feared them at first, the two men showed nothing but love for each other and love for them.

 When they were first brought into their home they had offered them separate rooms but didn’t force it when they refused to leave each other. They never forced them to do anything they weren’t comfortable with, they always asked before so much as grabbing their arm or giving them a hug, and they did everything to make sure they felt safe in their home. When they confessed they had no names beyond “boy” and “girl” they took the time to find names they’d both like, always running ideas by them. In the meantime Vernon had affectionately nicknamed them, as he did with near everybody, “little dagger” and “little flower”. 

 Dahlia had always loved hearing that, the first time she saw flowers was outside their house and she fell in love immediately. She seemed to love everything pretty and Silas remembered how often she said she wanted to be pretty, but he never understood that. She’d always been very pretty to him. 

 As for him, they said that he was sharp and angry, and admittedly, he was. At least, that was how he presented himself so they wouldn’t have to know how scared he was. He snapped and lashed out often, all the attitude and rage he had to keep locked up around his master he took out on them. They were patient though, they tolerated his outbursts and his foul language, and by the time they suggested the name “Silas” he had grown comfortable enough to feel safe there.

 His thirteenth birthday was the first one that didn’t make him miserable. With their master, birthdays only served to remind them how little time they had left, he memorized the dates of all his victims just to mock them. On their twenty fifth they would be killed, every birthday leading up to that they would be mocked and reminded just how short their lives would be, if he was feeling “generous” they’d be whipped, given a lash for every year they’d been alive. 

 Vernon and Theo celebrated them though, they took them out that day and let him pick anything he wanted from the market, they made his favorite meal that night and even a cake. Neither was exactly a master baker, it was too sweet and horribly messy and he loved it so much he sat at the table and cried. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this much love from someone who wasn’t Dahlia, and he was so incredibly thankful to these men who had no reason to care for them, yet loved them with all their hearts. 

 His gift to himself that day was the decision that the first twelve years of his life didn’t exist. Twelve years of misery and pain did not exist to him, he did not have a master, he was never held captive as a food source to vampires. He didn’t need those twelve years, as far as he cared, he’d been here with the people he loved his whole life. That same year, he decided he wanted to be a hunter.

 At first, all of them were against it. Vernon said it was too dangerous, that Silas was too small and skinny and would only get hurt, Theo and Dahlia agreed with him. Over time though, with enough begging and pleading, Vernon finally gave in, and Dahlia quickly followed him because she felt that if she didn’t he would do something horribly stupid and get hurt. Despite the fact he wanted it so badly, Vernon allowed Dahlia to train before him, as fifteen was the minimum age they could be trained at. He was happy he agreed at all though, he was fifteen when he began training and seventeen when he was handed his own blade.

  After that home was just them. The men had no plans to force them out, but did suggest some independence, and they made their home in a different village that happily welcomed them. The people adored Dahlia, she was kind and social and overall a lovely person. She had her angry side that was usually saved for Silas, but even then he just believed her to be strong, she was brave, she didn’t take shit from anyone while still being sweet and polite, and he envied her so much. He didn’t know how to handle people, he got overwhelmed easily and sometimes snapped at people without meaning to, and he often felt that he was better off alone. 

 It was in this village that he was able to define “home” for himself. Home was where Dahlia was, she had been the one constant between all these places. It wasn’t just a place that he lived, because he never really “lived” in that cell, he was kept there, forced there against his will and only existed to die. Living with Vernon and Theo had been wonderful, but it was supposed to be temporary, even when they first took them in they didn’t plan to basically adopt them, and even though they did in the end, they had to grow up and leave sometime. He didn’t know how long they would live in this village, if they’d get up and move again or if they would live there for the rest of their lives, but as long he was with Dahlia, then he was home. 

 He knew this raised a problem, while he was content with spending his life with Dahlia he didn’t expect her to feel the same way. She was a wonderful person, incredibly beautiful, and he knew that someday she would most likely find someone who she wanted to be with forever. He would be happy for her, and he’d never keep her from that kind of love, because she deserved to be happy. Of course, he wasn’t quite sure what he would do with himself when that happened. 

 He then forced himself to accept Alastair as his new home. He fought it until he was turned, which is when he realized that he would be better off with Alastair than anywhere else. Alastair had made himself as important to Silas as Dahlia was, in a much more twisted manner. He loved Dahlia so much because they had been together forever, because she had cared for him so deeply, protected him when she shouldn’t have had to. She knew him better than anyone in the world, and he knew she would always be there for him, and he would always be there for her.

 Alastair started by separating him from his home, even if he didn’t realize it. Silas spent nearly all his free time with Dahlia, hell, most of the time he worked with her too, and now he was away from her and Alastair was all he had. He kept his contact with the staff limited, and he dragged Silas along with him throughout the day all day every day. If he wanted to speak to someone then it would have to be Alastair, if he wanted to do anything then he would have to ask Alastair for permission, Alastair controlled every moment of every day for him. 

 Even once Dahlia was there Alastair limited their time together. It killed him to know she was there but he couldn’t see her or talk to her, if he even spoke about her too much Alastair would get angry. The time they did have together was often ruined, the vampire always ended up hurting one of them.

 Then he turned him. He forced Silas to become the one thing he hated most, after destroying everything that made him him, he took his humanity as well. He made him believe that he shouldn’t even try to leave, and Silas began to feel that Dahlia would be better off without him. He didn’t know what to do without her, so he forced himself to accept the fact that Alastair was his new home, his new life really. He would be obedient and docile, he would behave for him because if he didn’t he had no idea what would happen to him. An eternity was a long time, a long time that Alastair could use to make him miserable, so he was better off giving in.

 The prospect of Dahlia being killed was what finally snapped him out of this. It didn’t matter what he was, it didn’t matter what would happen to him after all this, nothing mattered but Dahlia. He killed the man he accepted as his new life, and just like that he was being returned to his old life, his old house, his home with Dahlia, that he thought he would never ever see again. 

 He didn’t know if he had a home anymore. He had a house that he lived in, with the person he loved most, but he had accepted his new home was away from Dahlia and here they were together again. He didn’t worry so much about her leaving him in the form of finding a real relationship though, while he always saw that as a “when” situation it realistically was an “if”, as it was for everyone. What there was no “if” about though was the fact that someday Dahlia would die. Sure he had to worry about that before, but since leaving their “master” it didn’t weigh on him the way it did before. At least there was the guarantee that he would follow her, and once they left their master it became more likely he would die first with his horribly reckless tendencies. But he couldn’t die now, unless he was killed or decided to kill himself. He didn’t like the sound of either of those, he didn’t want immortality, he wanted to someday die a natural death. 

 “Home” was an odd concept to him. He couldn’t define it the way he used to because he knew it would only cause him pain, and what right did he even have to place that kind of importance on Dahlia in the first place? He’d never told her how he felt about this, he wasn’t exactly a big fan of feelings and certainly didn’t enjoy sharing them. It didn’t feel right to tell her though, she was too selfless, she gave up too much for him, the thought of her ever giving up her own life to stay with him, to be his “home” made him sick with guilt. 

 He knew that a home was actually defined as where someone lived permanently, but nothing felt permanent to him. He was comfortable here, yes, but it always felt like it would be ripped away at any moment. Dahlia was permanent, except she wasn’t, she could, and someday would, die. Alastair had been permanent, he’d accepted that he would always be with him because Alastair was immortal, just like Silas now was. But he killed Alastair, so in the end it looked like the only thing permanent was himself. 

 He didn’t know if he could ever be his own home.

#my writing #my oc's #Silas #Dahlia #backstory #tw past child abuse mention #self indulgent stuff

[thetravelerwrites]

Salvatore (Cambion Incubus)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Human Female Reader x Male Incubus (Cambion) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Incubus, Cambion, Incubus Boyfriend, Monster Boyfriend, Asexual Monster, Asexual Incubus, Asexual Reader Content Warnings: Prostitution, Mention of Alcoholism, Strong Language, Use of a Slur, Open Discussion of Sex and Sexuality Words: 5270

Here it is! This story just poured out of me yesterday, and I hope you guys like Sal. I love him. He needs all the love he can get, the poor dear. Please leave feedback!

*Note: A Cambion is a half-human, half-Incubus/Succubus, originating in medieval European folklore.

The Traveler's Masterlist

How did you get talked into this? You hated bars. The smoke, the noise, the drunk girls falling all over themselves, the guys trying to get the drunk girls to go home with them. It was all tedious and you hated it.

It was supposed to be a celebration. You had just graduated from school with a business degree, and a bunch of friends suggested dinner. You didn’t realize dinner would be alcohol. You groaned as soon as you set foot into the place and just ordered a water. You sat in the corner and watched your friends get properly sloshed, grimacing into your glass and wishing you were somewhere else.

“What are you doing all the way over here?” A seductive voice asked. You looked up to see a man smirking down at you. He was dressed in a suit with no tie, his collar rakishly ruffled around his neck in what you guessed was supposed to be a fetching manner. He had reddish-brown hair and clear skin with a strong chin and straight eyebrows. His face was symmetrical, despite his lopsided grin, and he was leaning slightly over you.

“Avoiding people,” You muttered irritably.

“Does that include me?” He asked, winking.

You felt your face sneer. “Yes, that includes you.”

His head rocked back as if stunned. He seemed genuinely surprised at your answer. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Look, I’m sure your used to drunk chicks flinging themselves at you, but I’m not drunk and I’m not into you, so walk on, dude.”

He frowned and continued to stare at you. “You’re serious. You’re not attracted to me at all?”

You shook your head impatiently.

His frown deepened. “Strange. I’m normally pretty good at reading who’s gay and who’s not.”

“Ugh!” You exclaimed, setting your glass down so hard that you sloshed him with water and he took a half-step back. “Fucking typical! I’m not throwing myself at you, so I must be a dyke, right? I don’t have to be a lesbian to not want to fuck a random guy in a bar. Fuck you, asshole!”

You picked up your purse and coat and stormed out of the bar and into the empty parking lot, preparing to call a cab.

He followed you out. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant!”

“Leave me alone!” You yelled at him.

“Wait!”

“What?!” You screeched at him, and he stumbled to a stop behind you, a absolutely baffled look on his face.

“What are you?” He asked, staring at you hard.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You asked him, reaching into your bag for your taser.

“Are you… like me?” He asked earnestly. “Is that why you can see through me?”

“Dude, you’re going to have to be a lot more specific, because right now, you’re talking nonsense.”

“You’re a Cambion, right? Or are you full-blooded?”

“Full blooded what?”

“Succubus.”

You stared at him with a dumbfounded look on your face. “Ohhh,” You said slowly. “Okay, I get it now.”

“You do?” He said, his face hopeful.

“Yeah,” You said. “You’re fucking nuts.”

He growled and rolled his eyes. “No, look, I--” He started forward toward you and stopped when you pulled out the taser gun. “Alright, calm down.”

“You calm down, weirdo,” You said, your aim at him steady.

“I’m just trying to figure out why it’s not working!” He said. “It always worked before. I just trying to figure it out.”

“Why what’s not working?” You asked.

“This… whatever it is I do…” He gestured to himself in a vague annoyed way. “Charm, I guess you’d call it, but it’s more than that. It always works. I don’t even know what it is or why it works, but it always does.” He grunted in frustration. “I don’t know why it’s not working now.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but either you start making sense or you leave me the fuck alone.”

“Look.” He snarled.

Then his face began to change. His eyes went completely black and his mouth widened, revealing sharp teeth beyond his thin lips. Horns sprouted from his forehead and he seemed to grow taller, looming over you.

You jumped, and your finger accidentally pressed the trigger to the taser. He shouted when the barbs struck him and he hit the ground.

“Shit!” You said, dropping the taser and pulled the lines from him.

“You fucking tased me!” He shouted from the ground, his face and body returning to normal.

“You scared the shit out of me!” You said defensively, helping him back to his feet. You propped him up against the wall of the bar. He rubbed his shoulder, where the barbs had hit him. You just stared at him as he breathed hard. “What did you say you were?”

“A Cambion,” He said. “I’m half-human, half-succubus. Or is it incubus because I’m male?” His face as scrunched up, almost angry. “I dunno. Who cares?”

“So your mother was…”

“Obviously,” He said. “Succubi and incubi need to feed on people’s sexual energy to survive. Whatever it is that makes succubi attractive to people, I inherited some of it, but I also inherited the… hunger, I guess you’d say. I’m mostly human so I eat regular food, but every few days I get this… craving. I can ignore it for a while, but if it goes on too long, I get sick and weak. That’s when I go… well, hunting.”

“So you tried to prey on me, is that it?” You asked him.

“Tried and failed, it seems,” He said, fixing you with a confused stare.

“Why didn’t you go after any number of the other people in there?”

“I don’t hunt drunks. I may be a monster, but I’m not a monster, if you catch my drift. You were the only person in there who didn’t smell like booze. I’ve never failed before.”

“Ah, I think I understand now,” You said. “I’m asexual. I’m not attracted to you because I’m not attracted to anyone.”

He blinked, then blinked again. “You’re what?”

“Asexual,” You said again. “I don’t feel sexual attraction.”

“Like… at all?”

“Nope.”

“Have you ever had sex?” He asked

“Oh, yeah,” You replied. “It’s fine, but I can take it or leave it. It’s not as important to me as it seems to be to everyone else. College was rife with it. I don’t tell people I’m asexual because they either think it’s not a real thing or they think I’ll be ‘cured’ if I get fucked one good time. It’s exhausting. I tell most of my friends that I’m too busy with schoolwork for a boyfriend, which was fine during school, but now that I’ve graduated, it won’t be a good enough excuse.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but his phone buzzed and he looked at it, seemingly both annoyed and relieved.

“What?”

“It’s a client,” He said.

“It’s nearly one in the morning. What kind of client calls at this hour?”

He raised his eyebrow at you.

“Oh,” You said, catching on.

“Hey, it’s good money,” He shrugged “And it keeps me fed and healthy, as long as I’m careful and use protection.”

“I’m not judging, man; do what you gotta do,” You said.

“I’d kind of like to talk about this whole… thing more, if you wouldn’t mind,” He said. “I have questions.”

“What would a person who lives on sex want to know about asexuals?” You asked.

“Well, mostly, I want to figure out if I am one,” He said seriously.

You were shocked at that answer. “Uh… okay. Well, I can meet you tomorrow, if you like. You know that diner on Fifth and Lowell?”

“Yeah, the one that has the really good pie?”

“Yeah. Meet me there at seven, if you’re not otherwise occupied. We can talk about it then.”

“Sure.” He smiled in a way that would have been flirtatious to anyone else, but perhaps that was just the way he smiled. “I’m Sal, by the way. See you.”

He got into a nice car at the end of the parking lot and drove off as you stepped under the awning of the bar to call a cab.

You arrived at the diner to see he was already there sitting at the bar, and he greeted you with a smile.

“Hey,” He said.

“Hey,” You replied, sitting on the stool next to him. “I’m glad you came.”

His smile widened. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I would. This is all a little weird to me.”

“Well, I’m happy to answer any questions you have,” You said, ordering a cup of coffee and a pie. He did the same. “Why do you think you might be asexual?”

“Well,” He started, “First, explain it to me. Like, what do asexual people do or feel? Is it just no attraction or what?”

“Okay, well, there’s all kinds of different asexuals,” I began. “The term ‘asexuality’ simply means that you don’t experience sexual attraction for other people, but that doesn’t necessarily exclude sex or relationships altogether. Some are what you might call sex-repulsed, as in the very idea of sex is disgusting to them. Then there’s people like me, who are indifferent. Like, I like sex, but I don’t need to have it and don’t actively seek it out, but there are asexuals who have sex-drives, ones who do seek out sex because they enjoy it.”

“Okay,” He said slowly, trying to process it.

“Now,” You continued as the coffee and pie were placed in front of the both of you. “Just because you don’t feel sexual attraction doesn’t mean you don’t feel romantic attraction. I myself am bi-romantic. I can have romantic feelings and be in relationships with either men or women.”

“What’s the difference between a sexual relationship and a romantic relationship?”

“A romantic relationship is emotional, not physical.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Have you ever been in a relationship that wasn’t based entirely around sex?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, that might be a little hard to explain, then. It’s like being in love with your best friend in more than a friends way. Does that make sense?”

“No. All my friends have wanted to sleep with me.”

“Oh.” You took a bite of pie and backpedaled a bit. “So, explain to me what you feel about sex and I’ll try and help you figure it out.”

“I don’t… I don’t really feel attracted to the people I have sex with. Guy, girl, it doesn’t matter to me. It’s the sex I need, and even then, I don’t really like it. I just do it because my body compels me to. If I had any choice in the matter, I wouldn’t have sex at all.”

“So, maybe you’re sex-repulsed?”

“No, that’s not it exactly. Like, it doesn’t gross me out, but…” He pointed at his pie. “Take this, right? It’s really good pie, and while you’re eating it, you think ‘I could eat this all the time,’ right? But then say this was the only thing you could eat for an entire year. Eventually, you’d get sick of it. Right now it tastes great, but after your fiftieth piece, or your hundredth, it would start to taste like ashes, and the idea of putting another bite in your mouth would make you wish you could eat literally anything else. But it’s all you have and you have to eat it or you’d starve otherwise.”

He put his fork down and looked at the pie as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite. “That’s what sex feels like for me. I don’t hate it, I just don’t enjoy it.”

“Hmm,” You mused. “Maybe sex-neutral, then. But I’d definitely classify you as asexual, just from what you’ve told me.”

“An asexual incubus, huh?” He laughed. “Cosmic irony at its finest.”

“Do you think you’re the only one like you?” You asked him.

“I have no idea,” He said. “I’ve never met another… creature like me. I only know of my mother, and I’ve only heard expletives to describe her, so I couldn’t tell you.”

“You don’t know your mother?” You asked.

He frowned. “No. I was raised by my human dad. Begrudgingly.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. “My dad was seduced by my mother at a very vulnerable time in his life. He was up for a big promotion at his job and about to get married to the love of his life. And then my mom came along and did what her kind do… what my kind do…” He gestured to himself and scowled.

“Someone caught them at it and told the woman he was supposed to marry. She broke it off, after which my dad started drinking and lost his job. And then I turned up on his doorstep a few months later, a reminder of the worst mistake he ever made.” Sal’s eyes were distant and cold. “He blamed her, and me, for ruining his life. I think the only thing that kept him from throwing me out was that when I was that young, I couldn’t control my form very well and he knew I’d be studied or killed. It was the only kindness he could muster for me.”

You were shocked to silence. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “He drank himself to death before I started college. By then, the hunger had kicked in. I started escorting to pay for classes, fucking my way through school blindly. I probably only graduated because the dean was a regular.”

You laid your hand on his in an effort to comfort him, only for him to snatch his hand away immediately.

“What are you doing?” He asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” You said, startled. “I… was just trying to be reassuring. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You said you were indifferent to sex,” He said, his eyes still narrowed.

“I am,” You shot back. “I wasn’t trying to--”

“People only touch me when they want to have sex with me,” He said.

“I was just showing you affection!” You retorted. “You seemed sad. I wanted to comfort you. That’s all it was, I swear.” You looked around you and saw two women in a booth. “Look. Look at them.”

He swiveled in his seat to peer at the two young women. One of them was clearly upset, though not actually crying, and the other hand her arm around her shoulders and was talking to her in a low, consoling tone.

“That girl, the one that’s upset, she’s not thinking about sex right now, I guarantee you that. And the girl with her arm around her is trying to comfort her friend. She’s not trying to seduce her.” You turned back to look at him. “That’s what people do when they care about each other. They comfort them. They’re affectionate. Touch isn’t inherently sexual, Sal. Holding a person’s hand doesn’t always mean that you want to sleep with them. Hasn’t anyone ever just held your hand because they wanted to be close and not because they were trying to fuck you?”

He looked at the two women with a deeply troubled look in his eyes. Abruptly, he stood and threw some money on the counter.

“I should go,” He said, turning and making a quick escape to the exit.

“Sal!” You got up and rushed after him.

“This was a mistake,” He said, opening his car door. “I know what I am. I don’t need this.”

“Sal, wait!”

“I don’t think it would be good for us to see each other again,” He said, slamming his door.

“Wait!” You cried as he started his car and sped off. You put a hand to your forehead and sighed heavily, confused and upset.

You didn’t see him again, either at the diner or the bar. Perhaps those weren’t normal haunts for him. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, though. The look on his face when he saw the two women stuck in your brain and you couldn’t get it out. He looked like he was in pain. It looked like agony.

A month later, you got a job at a casino hotel as an overnight concierge, because this is what a business degree got you, apparently. It wasn’t a bad job, just slow, and you had a lot of time to watch people coming and going, which was fairly interesting.

You’d been working there a while when you finally saw him again, exiting the elevator with another man. The man gave Sal an envelope, and Sal smiled seductively. The man came over to the desk to check out, and you saw Sal behind him, his face draining of color as he realized who you were.

You stayed professional as you checked out the man, who turned and smiled at Sal before walking off. Sal’s returning smile was a bit brittle, and he waited for the man to walk away before approaching you, looking a little embarrassed.

“Hi,” He said.

“Hey,” You replied.

“I, uh… I didn’t know you worked here,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I started a few weeks ago, and I just got transferred to nights.”

“Ah.” He stood there awkwardly, visibly uncomfortable. “Listen,” He said finally, not meeting your eye. “I’m sorry about what happened the last time we saw each other. I was just really confused and I thought, when you touched me, that you were coming on to me. I thought the whole asexual thing was a con to get me to open up to you, get my defenses down, and then sleep with you. Like you were trying to get a freebie, or something.”

“I wasn’t,” You insisted.

“No, I know,” He said. “I researched it a little after I stopped being weirded out. I wanted to apologize, but I didn’t know how to reach you. I realized I didn’t even ask you your name.”

You laughed and told him your name. “It’s okay,” You said. “I get it. It was a lot to process all at once. Look, I think you’ve been missing out on a lot because of this… hunger, as you call it. I mean, have you ever been on a date that you weren’t paid to go on or didn’t end in sex?”

He thought about it, and shook his head. “Nope, I can’t say I ever have.”

“Well, let me treat you, then,” You said. “How about dinner and a movie? And I promise not to fondle you at any point during the date. And you’re not getting a tip.”

He laughed. “Sounds nice. Tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,” He said, sounding suddenly nervous. “Okay. Uh… here.” He wrote down his number on some hotel stationary. “Call me when you get out of here and we’ll work it out.”

“I will,” You said, smiling at him.

He seemed weirdly shy then, putting his hands in his pockets and backing away with a sweet smile on his face.

You called him as soon as you clocked out and agreed to meet him at six that evening, after you’d had some sleep. You met him at the theater, dressed for the first date you’d had since eleventh grade. He smiled when he saw you, dressed much like he had when you first met him, only he was wearing a tie this time.

“You look really nice,” He said.

“Thanks,” You said. “I like that tie.”

He chuckled nervously and petted it down. “Thanks. I haven’t worn a tie in a while.”

“What do you want to see?” You asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” He said, looking at the marquee. “To be perfectly honest with you, I’ve never gone to the theater and seen a movie all the way through. It usually ends up with someone getting a blowjob.”

You snorted. “Well, I can assure you that won’t happen in this case.”

He laughed again, looking relieved. “What about that one?”

“Oh, yeah, although to be honest, the actor in that one is wasted in this franchise. He could do so much better.”

“Right?” He said enthusiastically. “He needs more serious work. He’s going to get pigeonholed if he keeps doing these kinds of films.”

“Oh, my god, exactly,” You agreed. You bought the tickets and some snacks and took your seats. It was nice just sitting next to him. Throughout the movie, he kept looking over at you, as if to check if you were going to make a move or if you expected him to do so. Twice, his phone buzzed, likely from clients, and he ignored them both.

When the movie was over, you went to dinner, and he offered to pay since you had bought the movie tickets and snacks. He wanted the date to be equal, since it wasn’t a job. You said you were fine with that.

While sitting and talking about the movie, you noticed he was staring at your hand.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Well, I was thinking about what you said,” He replied thoughtfully. “About how not all touch is sexual. Sometimes people touch each other because they want to comfort them or offer them affection. I didn’t think much of it, but during the movie, they touched each other a lot, even though they didn’t have sex at the end. And I thought about it some more, and I’ve seen other people in real life do things like that, like hold hands and hug and things.”

“Right…” You said slowly.

“I was wondering…” He said, clenching his hands. “Can I try? With you? Just holding your hand, I mean.”

“Yeah, if you want to,” You said. You reached out across the table and linked your fingers with his lightly, not squeezing too hard in case he felt the need to pull away, stroking his thumb with yours. He stared at your linked hands with an indecipherable expression.

“Is this okay?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He replied softly. “It… feels nice.”

“It’s supposed to,” You said. “Things can feel good without being sexual.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” He said. After a moment or two, he withdrew his hand and continued eating.

He drove you home and walked you to the door.

“Every movie I’ve ever seen suggests this is either where we kiss or fuck. I’m not sure I want to do either of those things,” He laughed.

“That’s perfectly fine,” You said. “What about a hug instead?”

He smiled. “A hug sounds nice.”

You slipped your arms around his waist and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, laying his cheek on the top of your head. He held you for several moments.

“I like this a lot,” He said softly into your hair.

“How about a second date, then? You can pick what we do next time,” You said, turning your face up to look at him.

He smiled, but it slipped from his face slowly and he frowned.

“What’s the matter?”

“Does it bother you?” He asked with a worried expression. “The fact that I’m, for want of a better word, a prostitute? That I’m… not all human?”

“The not-quite-human thing is a little weird, I’ll admit, but it doesn’t bother me. If we were planning to have sex, I might feel a little uncomfortable about your job, but as long as you’re using protection and getting yourself checked and doing what you need to do to be safe and healthy, I’m okay with it.”

“Really?” He said, unsure if he believed you.

“Of course,” You said. You squeezed his waist tightly and he grinned at you.

“That’s a relief.”

For the next date, he took you swimming. For the next, you took him dancing. The next, he surprised you with a three day trip out of town.

The second day there, he became surly and taciturn, not his normal sweet, unintentionally flirty self.

“What’s wrong,” you asked him.

He sighed angrily. “I’m… hungry.” He said. “I haven’t had a client in a week. It’s the slow season. Normally I’d go out and just find someone to supplement it, but that feels like cheating now that I’m with you.”

“Oh,” You replied. “Do you… want me to…

“No!” He said. “Not here. Not with you.”

Your head rocked back and you must have made a face, because he looked apologetic and said, “No, I don’t mean it like that. You’re very important to me. I don’t want to see you like I see my clients, like food. That’s not what you are.”

“Well, I want to help,” You said. “What can I do?”

He sighed when he felt your touch. “Just touch me, okay?”

“Sal,” You began, putting your hand on his back and rubbing it slowly. “Hasn’t anyone ever done this before?”

“Done what?”

“Touched you just to touch you?”

“No,” He said, his head in his hands. “People usually have ulterior motives.”

You thought about it. “Lean back.”

He lifted his head and peered at you, confused, but complied. You moved to straddle his waist.

“What are you…” He started suspiciously, but you stopped him.

“Do you trust me?” You asked him.

“Yes…” He said slowly, still eyeing you.

You took your hands and very slowly began to map the contours of his face with your fingertips, starting with his cheekbones, brushing your hands around his ears and running your fingers through his hair. His eyes closed and he inhaled as though he’d never breathed real air before. You drew your index finger over his brow and down his jaw and pressed your forehead against his.

“Sal,” You asked him softly. “Has anyone ever loved you before? Anyone?”

His eyes opened wide and he looked at you, completely at a loss for words. He seemed to be searching for an answer and coming up empty. His face crumpled and a tear leaked from one of his eyes. You pulled him into a tight hug as he began to weep into your shoulder, your hand in his hair. He gripped you as though falling, gulping air into his lungs.

He seemed so taken by surprise at the question, and the reaction could only have been a genuine one. You wondered if he even realized it before you pointed it out.

“Shh, honey,” You whispered in his ear. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m here with you.”

He looked up at you with wide, wet eyes. “Do you love me?”

“I don’t know,” You answered honestly. “But… I think I’m starting to. I want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy with you,” He said. “Even when I’m hungry, I feel better when I’m with you. It doesn’t hurt so bad when you’re with me. I don’t know why.”

You stood up and took him by the hand.

“It’s late,” you said. “Why don’t we get to bed? Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.”

He sighed and got to his feet. You went into the bedroom and changed into your night clothes. You didn’t mind letting him see you naked, trusting that he wouldn’t need to control any impulses around you. You were the same with him, and he was comfortable letting you see him change, too.

Although, he was still hesitant to show you his true form. You had convinced him to show it to you once, the full experience and not just the sample on the night you first met, but he seemed to worry that you’d eventually grow frightened of him. You told him you just wanted him to trust you enough that he felt being comfortable in his own skin around you. He said that would take time, and you understood.

You got into bed, and instead of putting space between the two of you, like you had been doing, you pulled him close and pressed your cheek to his. He touched your breast hesitantly, as if to test you, and you shook your head with a wry smile. He breathed a sigh of relief and snuggled into your body.

And you touched him. You petted up and down his back. You played with his hair. You traced his smile. All of it was loving, none of it was sexual. When you pressed a kiss to his lips, the first time you had ever done so, it was a soft, sweet kiss, lip on lip, slight pressure, no expectation for more. When you pulled back, he had tears in his eyes again. You kissed his eyelids and he breathed a soft laugh against your cheek.

You were gentle and tender and made it clear you didn’t expect him to reciprocate unless it’s what he wanted to do. It took some time, but eventually, he began to touch you tentatively, trying to learn. He stroked your shoulder and caressed your face. He planted a kiss on your lips, mirroring the one you gave him, if a bit longer.

Eventually, he fell asleep with his nose in your hair and his arms clutching you to him tightly, breathing deeply and contentedly.

He woke in the morning with a bright smile on his face.

You laughed. “See? I told you you’d feel better.”

“I feel wonderful,” He said. “I don’t feel hungry at all. Quite the opposite, actually, I feel like I’ve been on a binge.”

“Maybe sex isn’t what you needed all along,” You said, holding him close. “Maybe you just thought it was because you hadn’t experienced anything else.”

He pulled back so that he could look at you, frowning. “Could I have been doing this wrong the whole time?”

“Maybe,” You said. “I suppose we’ll find out, my love.”

A slow smile split his face. “Say that again.”

“My love.”

His smile cracked his cheeks. “Good. Now say it all the time forever.”

You laughed and kissed him.

“Hmm,” He said, looking passed you in thought. “I wonder if I should still be an escort. If sex isn’t what I need to survive, there’s no reason for me to keep doing it. I do have a degree in medieval literature.”

“Yeah, good luck getting a job with that degree that’s not prostitution,” You said, laughing.

He hit you with a pillow. “Really, though. I think I should quit. It feels kind of weird now that I have a girlfriend. And if I don’t have to have sex, I don’t want to have sex.”

“Well, whatever you do, I will support you, honey,” You said.

“I appreciate that.” He sank back into your arms and looked at you seriously. “If I do quit, what’ll happen if I do need sex again?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it,” You assured him. “But to be honest, I don’t think that’s what you need to be healthy. I think you need what we all need. You need love. You’ve just never had it before.”

“I’m glad I have it now,” He said, pressing his head against your shoulder, dotting chaste kisses along your skin. “I’m sorry I tried to prey on you, and I’m still a little mad that you shot me with a taser, but it’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ve never felt this good before. I want to feel like this forever.”

“I won’t be around forever,” You told him. “And we may not love each other forever. But I can promise you that, at the very least, you will always have a friend who will never expect you to have sex with them.”

He barked a loud laugh. “I can live with that,” He said happily, cuddling you close.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Incubus #Cambion #Incubus Boyfriend #Cambion Boyfriend #Monster Boyfriend #Asexual Boyfriend #Asexual #Asexual Monster #Asexual Relationship #Interspecies Relationship #My Writing #My OCs #Sal #Salvatore #Asexual Reader #Reader Insert #Exophilia

[jackblankhsh]

A Blood Red Reindeer Knows -- Part 6:  Escape to the Worst

Kung Fu Karl doesn't waste a lot of time with fists.  He's got other things in mind, delights to satisfy anger ten years brewing.  As such, it isn't long before he sends the other Action Figures to get his "kit."

 He tells me, "I've had time to practice.  Cheaters, thieves, and the general gutter trash we can't avoid here.  But I was always thinking of you."

 "I'm flattered."

 Karl chuckles, "What'd you think was gonna happen when you got here?"

 Drooling blood, I shrug. Black Jack's Cooler is the one spot in the whole North Pole, probably the world, where any person can hide from Big Red.  He sees anyone anywhere any time he wants.  This place, though, for reasons no one knows, is off the grid.  The cops also tend to make this the last place they check. Black Jack pays them to, though whatever crooked deal he's got with Big Red is beyond me.  

 Kung Fu Karl glances at his watch.  Somehow he looks more sour than usual.  

 He says, "Where are those idiots with my gear?"

 I say, "They can take their time."

 A sound rumbles down the hall.  It sounds familiar, but my brain is too scrambled to make sense of it.  Kung Fu Karl recognizes it straight away.  He pulls out a gun.  The sound comes again.  This time I realize it's a shotgun blast.

 The door bursts open. An Action Figure staggers inside covered in blood.  His eyes roll up into his head.  He collapses, but he's dead before he hits the floor, a gaping wound in his back pouring red.

 Karl hurries out. The door swings out before him. The moment it does I hear that shotgun blast.  When the door swings back there's blood all over it.  

 I can hear footsteps. The door opens slowly.  Roy Glitterspark marches in carrying a pump action shotgun, and wearing a long trench coat.  

 I don't know if I've lucked out, or am still in serious trouble.  Using a key Glitterspark unfastens one of my cuffs.

 He snorts, "I don't see why we need you."

 "Me neither."

 He throws the key at my chest.  It lands in my lap.  Then, without another word, Glitterspark vanishes out the door.  

 Unlocking the other cuff takes longer than I care to admit.  One eye swollen shut, and my brain not exactly firing on all cylinders -- I've rarely felt more successful than grabbing hold of that tiny key. After popping free I stand, a little too quick.  

 My body feels like a stick of butter in an oven, slowly softening into a puddle.  It's very tempting to go with that feeling.  Following it leads to a black pool, a place I can float without pain, or worries.  But there's too much to do.  

 So I push on.  

 Stumbling into the hall I find Kung Fu Karl.  His head is gone.  Not far off is an Action Figure.  Not far from him is another body.  Following them like macabre breadcrumbs I start wondering if the whole damn casino got massacred.  

 The trail leads to a basement office.  The fanciness of the room suggests the rumors are true.  Black Jack liked to have two offices in the casino.  The one upstairs allowed him to be seen with those who -- let's say -- elevated his status.  Politicians, celebrities, rich folks, anyone whom it'd be good to be seen with in public. However, in the casino basement, a second office went into play whenever Black Jack needed to do business with the North Pole's underbelly.  

 Still, the room is a magnificent setup.  Big Red's got to be the only person with a fancier office.  The only thing marring the scene is Black Jack in his desk chair.

 Just like with Collodi, Glitterspark didn't fool around.  There are four holes each about the size of a fist in Black Jack's body. Coming around the desk I find a gun still in his hand.  I can't help admiring that.  

 But now's not the time.

 Quick as I can, which isn't quick enough, I go through Black Jack's desk.  I take everything that seems even vaguely helpful.  That said, might as well be a vacuum sucking up the desk's contents.  

 Pockets full I make my way out.  Unfortunately, I don't know the underground well enough to risk wandering around.  So against my better judgment I take an elevator to the casino floor.  

 I'm expecting the door to open, and cops, or Action Figures to be there.  Guns drawn they unload into me, and I don't have to worry about any of this shit anymore.  Too bad my luck holds out.  When the doors open, the casino is carrying on blissfully unaware of the bloodbath below.

 Outside someone comes running at me.  My vision is still blurry.  

 I say, "Sorry, Cari, guess I ain't coming home."

 The person coming at me says, "S'cuse me, sir?"

 I blink.  What looked like a hitman in a blue coat turns out to be the parking valet.

 "Never mind," I say.  Fishing in my pocket, I can't find the ticket to save my life.  

 "Rough night?" he asks.

 "What gave it away?"

 "Maybe just tell me what your car looks like?"

 "Thanks," I sigh, "It's a motorcycle."

 "We only got one of those tonight."  Like lightning he's gone.  In a minute my beautiful ride is rumbling in front of me.  Getting on slowly, I wonder how many times the valet's seen this kind of exit.  Probably a lot.

 The valet says, "Hope things are better tomorrow."

 "That's always the way ain't it?"

 #

 A short while later I'm going into Kaye's diner on Rosemary Boulevard.  A waitress named Vera almost faints when she sees me.  

 Jutting a thumb at my bike I say, "Don't ever ride one of those."

 She asks, "Sugar, do you need a doctor?"

 "Only to get my head examined."  Pointing to the back I ask, "Mind if I sit there?"

 "Sit anywhere you like."

 Shuffling my way I'm glad the place is mostly empty.  Still, I worry about whatever glances come my way.  In a weird way Karl and Jack did me a favor.  My face is too messed up for anyone to recognize from the mug shot popping up on TV screens, and newspapers.  Even the trademark red nose is probably getting mistaken for a bloody mess.

 By the time I sit Vera is already hovering with a cup of hot chocolate.

 Setting it down she gently pats me on the shoulder, "Hope you like cocoa."

 I tell her, "You read my mind."  

 She smiles, "I put in something with a little extra kick."

 "I'd wink, but I can't."  The joke makes her look sadder, so quickly I add, "Thanks.  There aren't enough like you in the world."

 Placing a menu on the table she tells me to take my time.  So I take a few sips.  Whatever she put in the mug definitely kicks.  When the cup's half empty I start feeling pretty good.  Well enough to get down to business.

 Dumping the contents of my pockets on the table I frown.  A lot of it appears to be nothing more than business papers.  Even the illegal stuff doesn't offer any leads.    

 In an envelope I find several photos.  Most of them are faces I don't recognize.  However, the few I do tell me this is what I've been looking for. Vixen is in one of them.  Some show people gathering in out of the way places: guys in three piece suits meeting with gutter punks; ladies in fancy cars getting dropped off at shady tenements; anxious clusters of folks huddled under a bridge.  The last picture is of some kind of face.  Not an elf, or a toy, it looks like a horned goat with a long tongue.

 On the back of the photo someone's written, "If we figure this out first that fat bastard will owe us big."

 My stomach growls. I can't remember the last time I ate. So I wave Vera over.  

 "What's good?" I ask.

 "Not much, but what is is the best."

 "Then bring me the best you got."

 "Sure thing."

 While I wait I spread out the photos.  I let my good eye drift.  I keep thinking when I'm not looking that's when I'll see what I need to.  Lost in the search I jump when Vera returns, plates clattering onto the table.  

 She's quick to say, "Sorry, honey, didn't mean to scare ya."

 "No worries," I say.  

 She's brought pancakes, hash browns, and a steaming cup of apple-spice breakfast soup.  There isn't much room with the photos all over, so I sweep them to one side.  However, one catches her eye.

 Pointing at it she says, "You looking for that building?"

 It's the photo of the goat face.  Near as I can tell this picture was taken under a bridge.

 So I ask, "What building?"

 Vera replies, "There's a building, not far from here.  I pass it on my way to the bus.  It's got that on the side."

 "What is this?"

 She shrugs, "Don't know.  Kids call it the Krampus mark."

 I ask where the building is.  She gives me the address.  Then I dig into the meal.  It's as delicious as she promised, but over too soon.  Afterwards I get the check.  Fortunately, I snagged a fat wad of cash from Black Jack's desk, so I leave Vera a rather generous tip.  It's the least I can do.  Then I head to the building with the Krampus mark.

#wrting #writer #fiction #shortstory #neo-noir #Neopulp #pulpfiction #reindeer #honestyisnotcnotagious #weird #mystery #rudolph the reindeer #krampus #writing

[pinkpeccary]

i only just learned that adam lambert is gay this year and was surprised by it because despite listening to and enjoying a few of his songs my primary reference for him as a person is that one episode of pretty little liars where he performed on a train and then flirted with aria (which distracted her from being drugged and locked in a box because nothing on that show was normal)

#i looked up a plot summary to make sure that actually happened and like. yeah #it's not even me projecting heterosexuality onto the interaction #like it is clearly intended to be read as flirting #anyways i remember looking up the song after that because i liked it but that was all #it's like. weird tho #he was literally playing himself #anyways this is what happens when you are chronically online from a young age but in very niche circles #i got nothing out of parasocial relationships because i didn't totally get that other people were like. real. #so i was always vaguely weirded out by people caring about celebrities beyond the content they create #i'm better now

[freudianshade]

Some Ponderings On Mental Health

The contents of this blog entry include a discussion on suicide. As a mental health professional, I think that we should always try to have honest, compassionate, empathic, and frank discussions on topics related to all mental health issues. However, I do think that people have a choice in when and where they would like to have these discussions or have these discussions opened up for them. So the entry will be below a cut to serve as a trigger warning and out of respect for people’s autonomy in these matters. Proceed and read if you’d like. Or don’t if that’s not something you’d like to explore today. Either one is fine.

If you or anyone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide, depression, or any number of life’s little daggers, please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline: [phone]. Or go to their website here: http://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

My old history teacher, Mr. L, from high school recently died by suicide. He was much loved by basically all of his students. I always had fond memories of him. He told great stories, made history interesting, and talked to you in a way that made you feel as though he was engaged in every word you said. I was a weird kid (and I become a weird adult). This teacher made it ok to be weird and I felt like it was ok to be myself around him and in his classroom.

In the last month or so, I had been hearing some concerning things about his conduct in and outside of the classroom. Conduct that wasn’t just professionally dubious, but also morally dubious, conduct that crossed several ethical boundaries that for me, if true, are inexcusable. I found myself (and still find myself) struggling to decide how I felt about this man. Here was someone that I had always respected, had always seen as someone with the best of intentions. In this new light, it became harder and harder to see him as that person.

Even now, as my Facebook feed fills with testimonials on Mr. L from old students and current colleagues there’s this thought in the back of my mind. Do they know? How much of it is true? Why do I protect him even now? Maybe it’s out of respect for his family. He is survived by two children, still young, and a wife (though in the process of divorcing him). The internet loves to paint the world in strokes of black and white. Once you have done the unthinkable, you are wrong and bad and everything you have done prior to that knowledge is tainted, is void. In some ways I think like that too. But it’s harder when that person was someone who was close to you, whom you respected, whom you knew personally. It’s easy for me to condemn Bill Cosby, even if he was much loved before his sex crimes were revealed. It’s harder for me to change my attitudes completely on Mr. L, a man who I had always considered one of my favorite teachers from high school.

We’re much more willing to wait for the facts when it’s someone that we care about, someone we WANT to believe is a good person. We’re much more willing to dismiss negative pieces of information. We’re much more willing to empathize. As a mental health therapist, it’s my job to empathize. It is in fact unethical of me to turn away someone who has committed crimes personally heinous to me (like rape or domestic abuse) or judge them openly in a therapy session. So it is impossible for me to not impulsively place myself in Mr. L’s position, imagine what he felt in the last few months of his life. He had lost everything, including the very identity he had built professionally and personally. He had made decisions that were his to make, but also ones that were clearly informed by someone who was unwell. When I had heard of some of his conduct, I immediately thought, “He sounds very lonely.”

All that gregariousness. Talking your ear off any time he could catch you in a pause. It all felt like desperate grasping for some kind of human connection. Anything. And coming up wanting in the end. 

How do you cope if you’ve lost everything? If nearly every foundation of your adulthood and even parts of your childhood have been dismantled within a year? I guess that might drive you to do things that you normally wouldn’t do, things that would cost you your job and your marriage. It doesn’t excuse the mistakes you make. But just because we aren’t making excuses doesn’t mean we aren’t also offering compassion, understanding, empathy. I guess I feel like I owe Mr. L at least that. I guess I’m being vague because I feel like even now, especially now, a dead man’s life is a story not mine to tell. Yet I can’t help but feel guilty. Does it mean I’m acting like those people I criticize? Making excuses for people who should be brought into the light? It’s so easy to see now how entire communities can rally around perpetrators and dismiss the victims.

I’m not dismissing victims, but I am to some degree rallying behind someone who wandered into several moral grey areas and died there. 

They published some articles about Mr. L in the local newspapers. None of them mention the suicide. Certainly none mention that he was suspended (and then recently reinstated). I guess they feel it’s no longer appropriate to say, that you’d be spitting on his grave. Because you are so well respected, it means you get to have a brighter story told of you in death. Just because we know about the things you did, the things that weren’t so great, does that mean it erases your legacy? Maybe it tarnishes it some, but does it erase it? 

I think it changes it.

But what about suicide? You’d never know that that was how he died from the articles. It bothers me when people do that. I think many people, if not most, already know that was how he passed. The rumors will be everywhere. When you don’t make those things known it only continues the idea that depression, suicidal ideation, and mental health issues are a secret that should remain hidden. It encourages people to see these feelings as a source of shame. Maybe if we were all more open and communicative about these topics, Mr. L would have found help and he would still be alive. His children would still have a father. Even with all his mistakes, children have complicated relationships with their parents and it’s hard when they die. It’s easy to say, “You don’t need your parents. They were bad parents.” It’s much harder and much more painful in practice.

I think about how by not discussing Mr. L’s suicide at my old high school, the entire student body is going to feel like their own feelings, their own pain, their own shame is something to stay hidden. That even if they did need help, they wouldn’t go and find it because if they can’t talk about it when it happened to Mr. L then it’s something that you shouldn’t talk about at all.

Suicide is not a topic we should be ashamed or afraid to talk about. Mental disorders and mental health are not things we should be ashamed or afraid to talk about. Having to live in shame and being made to feel like those things are things to hide is what causes tragedies like this. People need to feel like there are places for them to go, people for them to talk to, a way for them to get those feelings out and have those feelings validated and accepted.

Mr. L lived a complicated, sad, and lonely life toward the end and I guess he felt the world was better without him. He felt like he had nothing to live for or that the depression and the pain was just so crushing that he would rather end it all then continue to live for his own children and all those students still relying on him. Some people say that suicide is selfish. And I guess that’s true in some ways, as it is an act that you do entirely for yourself and by yourself. But I also see how incredibly overwhelming and exhausting having those feelings can be. People who carry that weight every day for the rest of their lives, they are strong. The people who survive, the people who go on living, the people who take it day-by-day and see the things worth living for, they are heroes in their own narratives each and every moment they’re still here in this world. I’m not going to blame people for taking their lives if they feel that is what they have to do, but I also know the world has so much more to offer beyond what we are made to feel in those darkest moments.

I think it’s important for people to know that and be reminded of that as much as possible.

Mr. L might have been able to get a redemption arc if he’d found the will to live. I think that he could have returned to being that man the hundreds of people in my old high school cafeteria gathered last night to celebrate and mourn. I don’t think he can ever be that man again to me. Not now, not knowing what I know. But just because he’s no longer that person to me doesn’t mean I still don’t appreciate all that he did for me and for the generations of students who came before and after me. Always be responsible enough to acknowledge the wrong people have done, but it’s ok if you want to hold on to the good they did. The two actions aren’t mutually exclusive and being able to acknowledge the contradictions is imperative given the complexity that is being human. 

#tw #suicide #trigger warning #mental health #depression