#sorry for unanswered asks everyone! been feeling a little low energy

[braisedhoney]

drawing with a dip pen and doing the lineart that way is so satisfying... but editing it in a photo so it doesn't warp is not lol ;;

#ney's idle chatter (random textposts) #it's the easiest way for me to do some black and white lineart focused stuff #but man... #even if i like the way it feels vs digital lineart it always looks weird in photos #and i don't have a scanner atm ;; #f in the chat o7 #i could go without how the ink dries up on the nib and makes it difficult to use too lol #sorry for unanswered asks everyone! been feeling a little low energy #but i'll get to them soon :'D

[raggaraddy]

Mouthy

Prompt: You say to Yandere BTS "Oh my god! Just shut up!"

A/N: Couldn't sleep, so I wrote this laying in bed. I hope it's not some sleep-deprived nonsense ^-^

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, violence, emotional manipulation, choking, non-con, D/s themes, examples of a bad D/s dynamic.

Alpha! Namjoon

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You scream it through your bedroom doorway. Storming to the railing of the stairs, you lean over and scream again. "Shut up!"

The sea of people on the ground floor go quiet. Only the music dares to keep making a sound in the background. You skulk back to your room, slamming the door loudly behind you. You had had a long, disappointing day. You were tired and grumpy, and moody and sad. But the dozens of uninvited pack members couldn't care less as their party raged on into the night.

Not allowing you enough time to even climb back into bed, Namjoon storms after you to address your outburst.

"Y/n, go downstairs right now and apologize." He orders.

"No." you mope. Feeling it's a wildly unfair request. All these people are in your house making so much noise when you're trying to sleep. How is it you that's in the wrong?

"Do you think I am asking you? I'm telling you. Get downstairs now." He says sternly. His strict tone making you even more emotional. You just wanted him to be on your side for this.

"But- But I," you sniffle, with tears in your eyes.

"No," Namjoon cuts you off. "I've asked you all afternoon what's wrong. And you wouldn't tell me. So right at this moment, I don't want to hear it. You have been disrespectful to me and my people. So you are going to put some more clothes on and cover-up, and you will go out there and apologize to every single person." He growls, leaving no room to argue. "And you will do it sincerely, or I will give you something to cry about."

King! Seokjin

You didn't say it to his face. You would never be that stupid. But still, you clearly weren't smart enough. While gossiping to a friend, someone you thought was a confidant, you're complaining about a seemingly endless, boring meeting you had to serve today.

"And I just wanted to tell all of them; Oh my god! Just shut up!" You laugh. 

But hours later it's no longer a laughing matter.

"How did you enjoy serving me today, Princess?" Jin asks his tone giving nothing away of what he already knows.

"I enjoyed it. Thank you, your Majesty" You politely smile, thinking his question to be a kindness.

"I often find these meetings so dull. Many of the Lords do like to ramble on. Sometimes I would enjoy telling all of them to just shut up." He speaks the words so purposefully that you know at once you've been exposed.

"My Lord, I-"

"If you are smart you will not say another word." He speaks softly, with a grin on his face. "I want to thank you, Y/n.  I have an endless supply of other people I can hurt. Each one of them is freely at my disposal, but you are my favourite toy." He fills the space in front of you. "However, I am a man of my word. I swore to you that you will be unharmed if you are obedient, and I would not dare to break this vow. Of course, I have sorely missed playing with my beloved little dol, though."

Towering over you he sets off your instinct to get to your knees and grovel, begging his forgiveness for your carelessness. But that would only be a wasted effort.

"So thank you, Princess, for giving me the possibility to hear your pretty cries of pain again. I will make sure to use this opportunity to its fullest."

Assassin! Yoongi

He had been in a hyper mood for 2 days straight. His energy and enthusiastic interaction was something you always craved, but you had never dealt with it this long before and you were losing your sanity and your composure.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You shout at him as your last nerve snaps.

"Okay, Y/n." He gives little to no reaction. "Remember you said this in a month from now when you're begging me to speak to you."

But it didn't take a month. In two weeks you were in tears apologizing. He left you free to roam the house, but he revoked all communication from you. The only times he gave you any attention, was when he forcibly made you stop doing something he didn't like. Or when he wanted you for sex. But still, he wouldn't utter a single word, only bending you over to take what he wanted.

After 5 weeks, just as you thought you'd never hear his voice again, he finally broke his silence. Only to break your heart.

"Listening to you these past few weeks, I realise how much you talk. It's time you take your own advice and shut up. Y/n, I don't want to hear a sound out of you until I say. 5 weeks was easy enough for me. So let's start with that, and then I'll see if I want to hear from you yet."

Vampire! Hoseok

Hoseok was always so animated. Normally it didn't bother you, but he was talking and reacting through yet another movie and you were sick of it. It might have been because you were PMSing or maybe because Hoseok had forgotten to feed you all day, but when he yelled at the TV, you yelled at him.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" And right away you were teeming with regret.

"I'm sorry baby. Am I being too loud?" He laughs with an unexpectedly harmless reply. Playfully but roughly slapping his hand on your thigh. "I'll keep it down."

You're not dumb enough to think that your eruption would go unanswered. So you sit tensely, anxiously waiting to see how he will repay you.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear, after sitting in silence for 20 minutes. "You know I have very strong hearing right?" You nod nervously. Chewing your lip. "Well, your breathing is too loud and very distracting. I can hardly hear the movie. Can you please fix that?"

You know this is going to lead to something horrible, but you have no choice but to do as he says. For the next 10 minutes, you're completely distracted trying to inhale and exhale as softly and shallowly as possible.

"Hmm baby, it's really too much. I can't concentrate on the film." He stands, pulling his belt off. "Here let me help you."

He wraps his belt around your neck, pulling and setting it so tight that it's biting into your skin. Your throat constricting, barely letting you breathe.

As you wheeze and splutter and cough, he holds the end like a leash. Sitting back on the couch, he turns his focus back to the movie without letting you loosen the strap or get away. Your whole body is shaking, your eyes starting to roll back as you struggle to inhale. The belt is cruelly not tight enough to have you pass out though. Only allowing you to sit in your suffering. The sound of your gasping filling the room.

"Ahh, there you go baby. That's much better. Don't worry, it's just while we're watching movies. And there's only two more left in the trilogy."

Playboy! Jimin

He was telling you over and over how sorry he was. How he didn't mean to kiss that girl. That he was drinking. And that she kissed him. It was every excuse and lie he had spouted 100 times before.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You yelled at him. And for a moment it worked. He sat in stunned silence. But as you got off the bed to leave, taking your car keys with you, he chased after you.

"Where are you going?"

"Out Jimin. I need some time alone to think." You scowl.

But he refuses, blocking the door. Holding his arms to either side to barricade you in.

"No, you can't leave! I said I'm sorry."

"Fuck off Jimin, your apologies mean nothing." You say shoving him.

He doesn't accept that. With a roar, he grabs your shoulders throwing you down onto the bed. Quickly straddling you, using far too much force to keep you pinned beneath him. Tearing off the pillowcases, he makes some shoddy but effective restraints. Tying you to the bars on the headboard.

Ignoring your screams and how you struggle he starts to kiss down your neck, pulling at your clothes, rubbing his hands down your body.

"I'm gonna make you feel good Y/n. I'll show you that I only want you, then you'll have to forgive me." He says sounding desperate and unhinged.

You cry and yell for him to stop, trying to buck him off you, but his hand covers your mouth, his other successfully tearing down your panties from under your dress.

"Don't fight me, Angel. Just let me in. And I'll prove I love you the most."

Dom! Taehyung

Finally, Taehyung had agreed to spend some time with you in a social environment. He and you went out to a movie and dinner with some of your friends. They were vanilla friends though, so as an exception, for the day he loosened a lot of the restrictions and formalities you normally had in place.

You, however, you were getting a little too relaxed. While you joked with you're friends, you started to speak to him the same manner. As you and he were playfully arguing about trivia facts you realized you were losing the debate.

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" You joke. But in the company of your friends or not, Taehyung was not about to let you disrespect him. Even in jest.

"Is that how you should talk to me girl?" He asks loudly and in front of everyone, bringing the group conversation to a grinding halt.

His change in tone and his use of the possessive pet name, right away have you back in your place.

"No," you whisper. The sting of embarrassment hot upon your cheeks.

"No, what?" He pushes it.

You can't stand to look up. All of the attention is on the two of you. And even in your peripheral, you can see your friends looking at you judgementally, wide-eyed and in shock.

And he was making it worse by having you use his title around them.

"No, Sir." you surrender, your head hung low.

"Shouldn't you also apologise to the other people at the table? For interrupting our night with your rudeness." He keeps piling on one shame after the other. Stretching out the ordeal.

"No, it's fine." One of your friends tries to laugh off the awkwardness and speed the discussion away from this point. "She doesn't have to."

"Y/n," He prompts you, disregarding what your friend had said.

Thoroughly humiliated, you can't imagine how you are going to repair these relationships or explain this treatment away.

"I'm sorry for interrupting the night with my rudeness." you swallow heavily, hands shaking.

"Good girl. Now mind your mouth. Before you make me embarrass you further."

Mafia! Jungkook

"Oh my god! Just shut up!" you say in a hushed voice. More of a prayer said to yourself than an actual demand you expected Jungkook to hear.

"What did you just say to me?" he lowers the phone, gawking at you.

You really didn't mean to, it just slipped out. He was talking on the phone, going into too graphic detail about how he and his men dealt with a threat recently. You couldn't handle the gruesome details he was recanting anymore and the words just fell out.

"What did you just say? Did you just tell me to shut up?" He repeats again through your nonreply. His tongue running through the inside of his cheek, his jaw and muscles tensing. His voice jumping rapidly from stunned to aggressive.

You're at home alone with him, so you weren't paying much mind to what you were saying. But this afternoon he's been dealing with work. And right now he isn't Kookie, no the person in front of you is Jeon Jungkook. The temperamental Mafia head, who would as likely hit you as he would speak to you.

"I'm sorry," you squeak.

"You're sorry?" He scoffs, slamming the phone down. "If you had said it and meant it, that would be one thing. I could respect that. But you really just can't control your stupid little mouth can you."

"I-" you start a defence, or more a plea for mercy.

"Shut the fuck up!" He growls leaning forward in his seat making you flinch back. Darting his hand out he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back to where you were. "Don't flinch. I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help you." He smiles.

You wriggle in his clutches, mewling the same trifle apologies under your breath.

"Shhh, my brainless little Kitten. I'm gonna give you a gift." He smirks. "For your own safety, you don't need to talk for the rest of the day. I just need you to come when I call. Sit on my lap when I tell you. And purr for me like a good little pussy." Grabbing your arm harshly, he yanks you off your chair and onto the ground. "There you go, where you belong." He laughs. "You think you can remember to do all that? I know you can. Otherwise, I'll buy you a kat collar to remind you how my Kitten should behave."

#bts #yandere bts #yandere #bts fanfic #bangtan #yandere bangtan #bts smut #yandere taehyung #yandere jungkook #dom!taehyung #yandere jhope #yandere suga #yandere jimin #yandere namjoon #yandere jin #bts reactions #bangtan smut reactions #bangtan reactions #bangtan fanfic #bangtan reaction #bts fan fiction

[ignorancelive]

FINALLY DOING ALL MY TAG GAMES AAAA  IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO DO THESE

@whitedeadflower​ |  pick my favourite albums for bill clinton to enjoy

not necessarily my favorites but i always pick the same 5 albums for these so i just put 4 albums i like a lot and have been listening to more recently <3

@opossuwu​ | 15 questions

1. What is the first song you remember hearing?

english songs: either learn to fly by foo fighters or human by the killers, i really cannot remember which one but it was around the same time im pretty sure

spanish songs: ALL the songs on/by rebelde, my sister was super into it when i was a baby so i heard so many of their songs right as i was learning to become a human

2. What is the first band you got into?

mmmmmmm probably one direction? if we’re not counting rebelde lol

3. Do you collect music on any physical format?

i collect almost all cds i know and like on CD and have recently started buying vinyl but i think im only going to get albums i really like on it since its more expensive

4. What is your favourite piece of music-related memorabilia/merchandise?

SO many things. i really like my nirvana and red hot chili peppers shirts because they make me feel cute! im also IN LOVE with the in utero angel sticker i bought on redbubble that has a transparent border so its JUST the angel, i stuck it on my record player and i love it so so much

5. What is your favourite concert you've been to?

i have not been to a concert yet :/ i went to a little student festival thing my university hosted for us and saw hunny + hayley kiyoko which was pretty neat

6. If you could see one artist (or band) who is no longer alive in concert, who would it be?

nirvana :(

7. Have you met any musicians?

i went to a cd signing for little mix when i was like 12-13 ish but thats the closest ive gotten lol

8. What is your go-to song/album when feeling sad?

i actually have a playlist of comfort songs to listen to when im sad, but i think the song i most consistently go to is encore by red hot chili peppers

9. What is your go-to song/album when feeling happy?

this one depends. probably hump de bump also by rhcp cause it SLAPS and always puts me in a better mood than when i started

10. What is one music-related documentary you love?

EYE only watched a few minutes of funky monks but im sure if i sat down to watch it now id love it. this is the worst question to ask me because i watch a ton of interviews on youtube so i cant even remember which ones were legit docus as opposed to just youtube vids so this question is gonna be basically unanswered. i do want to watch bob and the monster though

11. What is one concert DVD that you love?

i listen to it more as an album on spotify than watch it but Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged is so good

12. Do you prefer listening to playlists or full albums?

usually playlists! but occasionally ill play the albums i have on my player

13. Do you tend to listen to albums in order or on shuffle?

in order, shuffling them is rare

14. What is your favourite deep cut song by your favourite artist?

favorite artist is rhcp and honestly im? not fully sure. quixoticelixer slaps. and i like almost every song on im with you. but i think im gonna have to go with storm in a teacup cause i checked its streams and its not that popular </3

15. What is your favorite CD/vinyl/cassette that you own in terms of packaging?

THIS ONES SO HARD I LOVE PACKAGING DESIGNS. i love how rhcp’s im with you disc looks like because it has the track list on it but it doesnt look bad like other discs who do that do. booklet design i love vices and virtues by panic at the disco and american idiot by green day. idk what this would fall under but i also love how stadium arcadium’s booklet is held in the case and how when you take it out you see a picture of the band. and there are too many albums whose art i love so i cannot elaborate on that without making this 5xs longer lmao

@garbanz0​ & @dailywilliams​​ | top 5 songs ive had on repeat recently

according to spotify’s on repeat playlist:

but also according to my last.fm:

so basically red hot chili peppers own my ass

@badhe4d​ , @garbanz0​ , & @catts-world​ | 10 songs you like, each by a different artist

uhhhhhhhhhhh

1. Monarchy of Roses - RHCP 

2. Back and Forth - Foo Fighters

3. Heart of Glass - Blondie

4. Omission - John Frusciante and Josh Klinghoffer

5. Dance with Me - Sir, Please

6. Henrietta - The Fratellis

7. Breed - Nirvana

8. Mary - The Happy Fits

9. Girls and Boys - Blur

10. It’s All So Incredibly Loud - Glass Animals

@psychoticbreak​ |  suppose you’re being sent to a deserted island for the rest of your life, and you can only choose 10 records to bring with you and those are the only albums you can listen to for the remainder of your life; what albums are they

oh GOD ok

1. in utero - nirvana

2. stadium arcadium - RHCP

3. nothing personal - all time low

4. red - taylor swift

5. after laughter - paramore

6. wasting light - foo fighters

7. im with you + im beside you if you count them as the same album - RHCP

8. so wrong its right - all time low

9. american idiot - green day

10. inside of emptiness - john frusciante

@mark-hoppuss​ |  shuffle my playlist and list the first ten songs that come up

1. New Invention - I Don’t Know How But They Found Me

2. Thanks to You - All Time Low

3. Por Que Me Haces Llorar? - Juan Gabriel 

4. Torture Me - Red Hot Chili Peppers

5. Speak Now - Taylor Swift

6. Prayer of the Refugee - Rise Against

7. Going Away to College - blink-182

8. Time-Bomb - All Time Low

9. DNA. - Kendrick Lamar

10. Heaven is a Place on Earth - Belinda Carlisle

@frafru1​ , @whitedeadflower​ , & @psychoticbreak​ | make a playlist with the letters of my name

Lithium by Nirvana

Universally Speaking by RHCP

Pool by Paramore

Eye Opener by Dot Hacker

@badhe4d​ |  post my lock screen, the last song I listened to and the last picture I saved on my phone

friends name blocked out but. an interesting screenshot. yes i have flea’s tweet notifs on and use twitter for absolutely nothing else. yes i have email notifs on 

if screenshots count:

if they DONT count and you mean purely just saving:

my icon and boyfriend <3

@badhe4d​ | 7 questions to get to know me better

three ships: not romantically because i dont believe in shipping irl people but i love everyone in rhcp’s gay polycule energy. specifically john and anthony in the 80s. romantically tho mickey and ian in shameless. i dont think i have a third one? me and my bisexual mutuals <3

last song: i shuffled a ton of songs and skipped for some of these tags but before those i was listening to the album weird kids by we are the in crowd as a tbt, specifically the song manners

last movie: inside by bo burnham but if you dont count that, hereditary 

currently watching: it is very difficult for me to watch shows so im currently just watching youtube lol

currently reading: nothing. i cannot read :( bc of attention issues not bc im illiterate

currently consuming: banana bread :3

currently craving: RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS RELEASE YOUR FUCKING ALBUM CHALLENGE

@the-replacemints​​ |  top 10 favorite debut albums

NOT in order. also it took way too long to come up with this list lol

1. Concentrate - The Happy Fits

2. So Wrong It’s Right - All Time Low

3. SOUR - Olivia Rodrigo

4. Strange Desire - Bleachers

5. RAZZMATAZZ - I Dont Know How But They Found Me

6. Hot Fuss - The Killers

7. Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend

8. Bleach - Nirvana

9. Costello Music - The Fratellis

10. WALK THE MOON - Walk The Moon

because theres so many of these im not gonna tag people for each individual prompt but if you tagged me in one of these i tag you in whichever ones you wanna do <3

#IT TOOK ME TWO HOURS TO FINISH THESE #tag games

[watersbound]

RUE  BENNETT  /  003  .  so  she  couldn’t  do  it  !

triggers  ;  drug  use  ,  addiction  ,  pills  ,  delirium  ,  violence  . mentioned  ;  jules  vaughn  ,  beth  march  ,  fez  reyes  ,  maddy  perez  ,  sarah  maybank  ,  cayetana  pando  ,  amelia  shepherd  .

 “you’re  the  best  ,  dude.”  she  sarcastically  salutes  carl  and  grins  ,  and  she  slips  her  buy  in  the  pocket  of  her  hoodie  ,  and  then  she’s  gone  down  several  flights  of  apartment  stairs  ,  feeling  like  she  could  breathe  again  and  knowing  it  would  last  awhile  .  there  was  relief  in  that.

 believe  it  or  not  ,  this  was  her  first  attempt  to  reverse  her  relapse.  fight  drugs  with  more  drugs  ,  what  could  go  wrong  ?  opiates  .  is  it  flawed  logic  ?  yeah.  but  she  used  to  take  them  before  school  and  they  slowed  her  heart  rate.  it  took  away  the  everyday  fucking  pressure.  and  her  perception  wasn’t  entirely  skewed.  

 rue  could  make  decisions  on  painkillers.  was  bolder  on  painkillers  ,  even.  fear  didn’t  hold  her  back  so  much  .  but  she  also  had  the  tendency  not  to  care  about  shit.  in  the  nearest  bathroom  stall  she  crushes  a  few  under  the  case  of  her  phone.

 there’s  days  that  go  past  after  that  ,  maybe  a  few  or  a  lot  or  two  (it’s  a  little  blurry)  .  

 she’s  reached  out  to  so  many  people  ,  not  for  help  ,  but  a  good  time.  and  almost  every  single  one  of  them  has  been  a  huge  fucking  disappointment.  

 except  caye  ,  who  she  doesn’t  know  well  but  lets  her  do  her  thing  without  getting  in  the  way  or  making  her  feel  like  shit  about  it.  it  was  almost  nice  having  her  around  ,  like  she  was  placing  her  trust  in  her  and  she  could  let  loose  and  she’d  have  a  crutch  if  she  needed  it.

 but  rue  was  a  trip  on  drugs  ,  all  her  chemicals  vibrating  and  it  tickled  so  she’d  laugh  ,  her  body  relaxed  and  droopy  more  than  it  could  ever  be  at  her  anxiety-ridden  baseline.  even  when  she’s  lying  cheek  to  the  carpet  as  the  weight  of  it  all  warps  gravity.  she’s  smiling.  kind  of.  her  mouth  is  trying  to  do  something.  it’s  the  only  thing  that  ever  made  that  go  away.

 so  how  long  would  this  last  ?  as  she  gradually  begins  to  unravel  and  tug  at  the  seams  of  every  relationship  she  has  ,  she  realizes  how  she’s  isolated  herself.  and  ,  for  someone  so  high  ,  she  feels  really  fucking  low.

 so  she  hides  her  face  .  not  in  the  streets  or  at  parties  ,  at  home  where  there  was  jules  who  she  couldn’t  look  in  the  eyes.  hadn’t  ,  looked  in  the  eyes  for  days.  whose  questions  she  dodged  or  ignored  as  she  collapsed  in  bed  or  on  the  couch.  she  started  coming  home  later  and  for  less  time.  she  stopped  coming  home  altogether  ,  after  a  few  more  days.

 but  the  streets  and  the  parties  ,  they  felt  like  home  right  ?  they  all  looked  the  same  with  the  colors  and  euphoria.  she  could  believe  ,  almost  ,  that  she  was  back  in  los  angeles  at  seventeen  ,  and  that  her  mom  and  sister  would  be  waiting  at  home.  the  energy  in  a  room  where  everyone  was  fucked  up  ,  she  had  a  longing  towards  it  ,  always.  she  was  so  happy  there.

 her  second  attempt  is  .  .  .  ambitious.

 it’s  when  she  reads  sorry  doesn’t  mean  anything,  rue.  the  entire  ,  short  text  conversation  between  her  and  jules  was  fucking  painful  for  rue  ,  who  couldn’t  decide  between  holding  her  ground  and  begging  for  a  chance.  because  it  was  jules  and  to  hell  with  the  whole  fucking  world  if  she  lost  her  again.

 but  that  line  ,  in  particular  ,  hit  her  really  hard.  it  felt  like  the  end  of  a  conversation  with  nothing  more  the  either  of  them  could  say.  like  they  were  at  a  standstill.  it  felt  awful.

 so  her  second  attempt  is  deciding  to  quit  cold  turkey  as  she  lays  with  her  head  in  beth’s  lap  one  of  those  days.  she’s  so  gentle  when  she’s  running  her  fingers  through  her  hair  ,  and  her  voice  is  too  when  she  tells  rue  that  she’s  still  good  .  the  high  is  wearing  off  but  her  mind  still  feels  calm  ,  if  just  for  a  moment  ,  because  of  this.

 for  a  moment  .  because  quitting  is  going  to  be  stressful.  rue  doesn’t  tell  her  plan  to  beth  ,  or  to  anyone  actually.  she  thinks  she  can  do  it  on  her  own  ,  maybe  ,  but  honestly  it’s  self-sabotage.  there’s  no  one  to  hold  her  accountable  to  trying  if  they  don’t  know  she’s  trying.  doomed  from  its  conception  ,  clearly.

 and  rue  knows  she  can’t  do  it  ,  too  ,  in  the  back  of  her  mind  .  she  doesn’t  want  to  see  pride  in  the  eyes  of  her  girlfriends  just  to  let  them  right  back  the  fuck  down.  more  than  she  is  now  if  she  planted  a  false  hope  like  that.

 good  thing  she  doesn’t  because  ,  even  though  it’s  not  that  she  tries  very  hard  or  lasts  very  long  ,  she’s  bored  of  it  in  a  few  hours.  she  wanders  into  the  outskirts  feeling  like  a  zombie  to  meet  some  people.  there’s  some  good  shit  there.

 rue  knew  the  risks  before  she  started  using  again  ,  of  course  she  did.  it  was  never  like  she  wanted  to  do  it  ,  but  like  she  had  to.  and  how  stupid  of  her  to  think  ,  that  any  of  her  fucking  friends  would  give  her  a  chance  to  prove  she  could  be  on  drugs  and  function.  but  they  are  right  and  she  implodes.

 so  she  gets  mad.

 her  lowest  points  were  being  thrown  out  of  maddy’s  party.  she  probably  just  wanted  to  help  but  rue  doesn’t  think  when  she  tells  maddy  to  fuck  herself  and  goes  off.

 then  when  she  was  shoving  and  smacking  the  shit  out  of  fez  who  is  also  trying  to  help  but  all  she  hears  is  that  he  won’t  help  her  get  a  fix  and  she’s  mad.  she  almost  texts  him  three  times  ,  later.  but  she  doesn’t.  it  didn’t  feel  great  ,  after.  more  things  unsaid  ,  more  things  she  knew  full  fucking  well  were  on  her  to  fucking  fix.

 same  with  the  feeling  in  her  gut  when  she  watches  calls  from  her  manager  at  the  coffee  shop  go  unanswered  ,  knowing  full  well  that  someone  was  going  to  have  to  cover  her  ,  stay  late  ,  pick  up  the  slack.  and  it  could  very  well  be  beth.  beth  ,  whose  texts  borne  of  worry  give  her  the  same  draining  feeling  but  like  .  worse.  because  beth  didn’t  deserve  this.  how  could  she  ever  look  her  in  the  face  again?  would  beth  be  able  to  look  at  her  ?

 the  carpet  at  a  party  is  damp  beneath  her  face  ,  her  cheeks  are  moist.  she  rolls  over  and  wipes  away  the  tears  off  her  face.  why  is  she  crying  ?  she  doesn’t  feel  anything  .  her  body  does  ,  but  her  mind’s  on  another  plane.  oh  shit  ,  those  aren’t  tears  ;  it’s  drool  ,  obviously  .  she  doesn’t  feel  anything.

 weird  that  it’s  sarah  that  changes  things.  rue  doesn’t  think  she’s  trying  ,  since  sarah’s  moved  on  and  she’s  busy.  but  she’s  laying  in  her  bed  that  rue  has  lied  in  so  many  times  before.  they  shared  a  lot  of  conversations  here  ,  and  laughs  and  kisses.  

 and  fights.  rue  has  vague  memories  of  stumbling  in  when  she  was  plastered  out  of  her  fucking  mind  ,  and  being  overly  affectionate  and  clingy  and  how  upset  sarah  would  get  to  see  rue  in  that  way.  memories  of  turning  her  back  to  sarah  in  bed  ,  at  the  end  ,  and  vice  versa.  and  memories  of  herself  ,  slamming  the  door  so  loud  behind  her  when  she  stormed  out  for  the  last  time  with  tears  in  both  of  their  eyes  ,  probably.

 and  it  brings  up  a  lot  of  stuff  with  her  mom  and  gia.  the  screaming  and  the  crying  from  the  two  most  important  women  in  her  life  trying  to  be  heard  over  rue.  the  fear  ,  too  ,  that  she  used  to  feel  from  them  during  her  delirious  outbursts  because  it  was  like  she  was  fucking  possessed.  it  wasn’t  her.

 which  of  her  fucked  up  conditions  was  it  then  ?  it  was  all  of  them  ,  they  didn’t  react  well  together.  but  when  it  all  comes  down  to  it  ,  it  was  all  because  of  the  drugs,  wasn’t  it?  all  because  of  rue  who  couldn’t  get  it  the  fuck  together  .

 third  time’s  the  charm.  instead  of  sleeping  in  sarah’s  bed  ,  rue  looks  up  rehabilitation  centers  on  her  phone.  she  alternates  ,  actually  ,  between  that  and  beth’s  texts.  

 she’s  crying  again.  she  wants  beth  and  jules  to  hold  her.  but  rue  is  ashamed  of  her  mental  state  right  now  ,  so  she  won’t  ask.  maybe  sarah  would.  like  she  used  to.  but  sarah  doesn’t  come  back  from  the  hospital  .

 at  one  point  she  almost  changes  her  mind  ,  she  rummages  around  bathrooms  looking  for  more  pills  ,  drawers  for  spare  cash  ,  even  the  kitchen  for  a  fucking  whippet.  she  talks  herself  down  ,  and  she  leaves  the  apartment  before  its  occupants  get  back.  she  can’t  fucking  hurt  anyone  anymore  and  she’s  horrified  by  the  things  her  hands  have  done.

 rue  is  sweating  in  her  hoodie  outside  as  she  waits  to  see  amelia’s  car  pull  up  .  the  hyper-awareness  of  beads  on  her  forehead  helps  keep  her  grounded  ,  kind  of  ,  so  she  doesn’t  run  the  fuck  away  again.

#rue #rue's diary #para

[extraneousdominomask]

Family.

This was, technically, Elyna’s second ever Día de Muertos.

That first autumn had bled into winter in a blur. Things in the house had been hectic, and tense. Understandably tense. Justifiably tense. Even without the exceptional circumstances, the ghost of a murderer hanging over this lovely home, it was easy for traditions to slide a little. It had taken a lot of careful effort to “adopt” her.

Oops. She was doing it again. The thing her therapist had pointed out where she didn’t classify the things that happened to her as real, because she didn’t see herself as real, but everything she felt was more than real so it only made sense to drop that habit and accept herself.

It had taken a lot of effort to adopt her. Yes.

That was what had happened. About fourteen months ago, this family, this wry and well-liked pillar of the local community, had revealed that they actually had a second daughter. Older and taller and much more purple than the pre-existing daughter. And they included her in everything. Last night, she had shared a wonderful Hallowe’en with them.

And now it was November 1st. From one holiday right into another.

Sly wasn’t a particularly spiritual man, despite - because of? - all the actual, literal undead creatures he had battled in his youth. He loved a good excuse to celebrate, though. As well as the big, basically secular holidays, he was happy to join his wife in her own traditions. The Montoyas and the Foxes were spread across pretty much the entire Spanish-speaking world and beyond, and at this point Carmelita essentially just picked her favourites. Factoring in all the globe-trotting they had both done, separately and together, the household’s annual calendar was… interestingly blended.

So, an archetypal Hallowe’en was always followed by a traditional Día de Muertos. It wasn’t a total shift in tone - it was important to remember the deceased with love and good humour, something this household could produce in industrial quantities - but there was a certain reverence to proceedings that was noticeably absent on the preceding night of pumpkins and candy and horror films.

Carmelita took this fairly seriously. That was why Elyna was dreading it.

Sly had stepped out, taking B with him. An annual raid for clearance candy. A shared activity Elyna preferred them to keep for themselves. This was her best shot. She had no idea how she was going to get through this conversation, even removing the possibility of her father bursting in with a poorly-timed joke.

‘Her father’. She reflected on those words as she stalked towards the living room. Sly Cooper was the source of half her genetics. The necessary ingredient that made her a test-tube baby instead of an unfeasible clone. And despite a… tense first meeting, she hadn’t had much difficulty accepting the fact he was her father. It was exactly that. A fact. His overtures of friendliness, everything he did to make her feel welcome, came with a solid, scientific basis.

His wife, though… 

Elyna let herself into the living room. It already looked so different from the makeshift movie theatre it had been last night. This was a small town, with an almost suspiciously low crime rate. There wasn’t that much work even for the Chief of Police, and that leftover energy meant quick and efficient decorating and undecorating and redecorating. 

The only survivors were the skeletons, grinning and painted, specific to Día de Muertos but certainly not out of place last night. But the pumpkins and cobwebs and big orange candles were gone. The back wall had been cleared, making space for several beautiful ofrendas. 

Elyna’s eye lingered on one corner, distinct from what was otherwise a sea of severe foxes. A photograph was the focal point, per tradition. It depicted two raccoons. One had black hair and sharp, intelligent eyes - still noticeably green in the otherwise faded colour palette. She was giving the camera a quiet smirk. The other was only identifiable as a raccoon by the hint of his striped tail sneaking up through the bottom of the frame. His arm was lovingly around the woman’s shoulders, but his face was totally obscured. 

Every year, Carmelita asked if Sly seriously didn’t have a better photo of his father, and every year, Sly would make a fresh joke about the man’s lifelong animosity with cameras. Just another tradition. Another ritual, part of the smooth running of the holiday.

“Your grandparents.”

Carmelita was adjusting a small figurine of an acoustic guitar with pinpoint precision, getting it in exactly the right spot relative to a smiling ancestor. But she had heard Elyna come in, and knew where those hazel eyes were focused.

“Conner Cooper, and his wife Beatrice,” she continued. “B is named after both of her grandmothers, actually. It’s made easier by the fact Sly’s mother preferred to be called Trixie.”

Elyna took another look at the bulk of the ofrendas, remembering her sister’s full name. “But, um, Zoe’s not up here, right?”

Carmelita smiled to herself. “Not yet she isn’t. Or my father. Too stubborn. At this rate, they might both outlast you.”

It was a harmless joke. One Elyna had to stop herself from hearing as a threat.

Carmelita straightened up, turning thoughtful. “We’re overdue for a visit,” she said. “I thought we had introduced you, but apparently not.”

These sorts of forgetful exchanges were becoming rarer. Elyna fiddled with a stand of her black hair - she was growing it out, and still getting used to it, and didn’t need distractions right now. Didn’t need to think about how she never met her father’s wife’s parents. Her step-mother’s parents. Her step-grandparents.

This was her chance. Her best shot. She should just follow her training and seize the moment. Without fear.

“I have a question,” she mumbled. “About this, I mean.”

“Oh?” 

“I, uh,” said Elyna, “have no idea whether I should put up a picture of my mom.”

The living room went silent.

Silence was one of the reactions Elyna had been expecting, and it was honestly one of the better ones. But that didn’t make it comfortable. “It’s just,” she attempted, “it’s kinda unclear to me if it’s all your family, or just the ones you…”

“The belief,” said Carmelita, crisply, “is that by setting up an ofrenda you’re inviting that person’s spirit into your home.”

“Right.”

“So you do it for people you want in your home.”

“Right,” said Elyna again, quieter.

A few moments passed. And then Carmelita sighed. Her posture, which had become rigid, uncoiled a little. “There’s no one answer,” she said, more diplomatically. “The spirit of the holiday is remembering the togetherness of family. But we both know that’s how things should be, not how they always are. Not everyone is so lucky.”

“I’m sorry.” Elyna was back to fiddling with her hair. “I know it’s a stupid question.”

“Not at all. I’ve always held there’s no such thing as a stupid question.” She put on an expression of exaggerated tiredness. “Or at least I used to say that, before moving in with your father…”

Elyna chuckled at that, and Carmelita smiled. That was always Sly’s strategy for smoothing a bumpy discussion - knowing when to include a soft joke. Carmelita had gotten better at it herself over the years.

“Has this been worrying you for long?”

“It’s kind of been in my head on and off for the past month. Sorry for only bringing it up now. And sorry for…” Elyna sighed. “I shouldn’t even be asking you about this. I know how much Mo- …how much Neyla hurt you both. Obviously you don’t want a picture of her in your living room.”

“The question,” said Carmelita softly, “is do you?”

Said question hung in the air for a few moments, unanswered. Carmelita intently watched the teenage girl in front of her. She looked so much like Neyla. But standing there, her paws awkwardly clasped, her gaze nervously on the floor, she couldn’t be more different.

“Do you know the origins of this holiday?”

Elyna managed to tear her eyes off the carpet, watching Carmelita carefully.

“It’s pre-Columbian,” she explained. “The practice of honouring the dead is rooted in the ancient cultures of Mexico. It was an important part of life for the people who lived there long before the Europeans came.  The modern version we celebrate today is a mixture of those original practices with a Catholic influence. That’s why it’s held on this date, for instance - to sync up with the church calendar. I think it’s important to remember it’s a blend.”

Elyna’s ear flicked. “A ‘blend’? That’s a pretty nice way of putting it. I’m no historian, but Hernán Cortés didn’t just step off his boat and ask everyone to play nice, did he?”

“No,” said Carmelita quietly.

“It’s not a blend. A blend would be if the Europeans and the natives set out to make something nice together. This is some kind of Frankenstein monster made when one group was just minding their own business and someone else came up behind them and-”

It was Elyna’s turn to fall silent.

“Oh,” she said.

Her face scrunched up a little, and Carmelita sighed. “That’s… not what I meant. Or at least not exactly.”

“You only kind of meant to call me a Frankenstein, got it,” muttered Elyna, who was, fantastical circumstances or not, still a teenage girl.

“I didn’t call you anything.” Carmelita’s voice was steady. Not sharp, but steely, leaving no room for argument. She hadn’t thought much about motherhood earlier in her life, but she had always been able to keep a firm grip on an unpleasant discussion, and that was one of the fundamental requirements. “Try not to assume the worst of what I’m saying.”

Elyna stayed quiet.

“But… yes. I suppose it might be an applicable metaphor. You’ve got two sides to you, too. You’re Neyla’s, and you’re Sly’s. You’re the result of some cruel revenge scheme, and you’re a person with your own desires. Who you are now is a product of both.”

“That’s… yeah.” Elyna rubbed her arm sheepishly. “That’s pretty much what’s been eating at me. Neyla was an objectively bad person. And like, I never even met her, so it’s not like I’m attached. Or at least I shouldn’t be attached…”

Not for the first time, Carmelita privately despaired at the uncertainty in the girl’s tone. That therapist had a lot to work through.

“…but the fact is, I wouldn’t exist without her. At all. And that’s… It’s just weird.” She paused. “Yeah.”

“And now all those confusing feelings have a physical problem. Whether or not to put up her picture.”

“Yeah…” 

“I’m not being flippant when I say I don’t know what to tell you,” said Carmelita. “Not everyone in my family tree was a saint. No-one can claim that. But as far as I know, we never had a Neyla.”

“As far as you know,” echoed Elyna. “That sounds like the answer, then. Monsters get written out of the family history.”

“They don’t get invited to parties, at least,” she replied. “Which, like I said, is the spirit. It’s keeping your family close, because you never want to forget their warmth.”

Elyna resisted the urge to scoff. Purely for Carmelita’s benefit - it wasn’t directed at her. ‘Remembering warmth’. There wasn’t any warmth to remember when it came to Neyla. To the brisk, clipped instructions Elyna had been left in lieu of a childhood.

She felt the decision click into place.

“Let’s not do it.”

Carmelita, to her credit, kept her reaction diplomatic. “You’ve decided?”

“Yeah. If the point is remembering the good times, well… A photograph of Neyla is just a waste of space.”

In other circumstances, Carmelita would have shown more enthusiasm for an insult that harsh, that confidently delivered. But she knew to tread relatively lightly, so she just offered Elyna a smile. “Well said. I’m glad I could help.”

“Yeah. Thanks a lot.” Elyna nervously returned it. “I was hoping you’d know what to do. And, I knew that you, y’know… I mean, I can ask Dad for advice on a lot of things, and it’s usually pretty good, but-”

“Happy Skeleton Day~!”

The door swung open, revealing a grinning Sly. They hadn’t heard him come through the front door, but he had no qualms about announcing his presence.

“How’s it going?” His eyes, the same hazel as Elyna’s, fell on the ofrendas. “Oh, wow. These look better and better every year, ‘Lita.”

“Oh, I didn’t do much differently…” said Carmelita, but her face betrayed how much she appreciated the comment.

He planted a kiss on her cheek, then planted himself beside her, husbandly. 

“Where’s B?”

“Oh, she ran straight to her room,” he said. “Pretty sure she’s stashing her candy in a secure location. Or locations. Who knows how many caches she might have…”

Carmelita sighed. “Is that raccoon behaviour, or fox behaviour…?”

“Oh, both. Absolutely both. It’s a marvel she eats anything at dinner.”

He turned his warm smile more towards Elyna.

“So, what are you two talking about?”

“Just, uh, holiday stuff,” said Elyna. “I had a weird question. Carmelita is a good person to ask.”

“She is! Honestly, I just follow her lead.” He glanced over to her. “Speaking of, there’s still a few things to figure out about the big dinner. Bentley and Penelope are easy to cook for, but I like to give Murray new options where I can. Any thoughts?”

Seizing this chance for a tactful retreat, Elyna began to drift towards the door. “I might, uh, go check on B.”

“Good idea,” said Carmelita. “Again, I’m glad I could answer your question. You can always talk to me, Elyna.” That earned a smile, once much less nervous.

“Thanks, Mom.”

There was a pause.

Sly was pretty sure that blushes weren’t supposed to show up through fur, and yet, the lilac of Elyna’s face seemed to briefly veer into a much more reddish purple. Her hazel eyes were wide and unblinking. “mrrghg,” she said.

“Come again?” said Sly, unruffled.

“I said ‘okay bye’,” said Elyna and she was gone an instant later.

The door clicked shut with surprising gentleness. Sly chuckled. “Well…”

He stopped, finally noticing his wife had a similar facial expression.

“‘Lita? Everything alright?”

She blinked, twice, and suddenly she was back. It was still hard to slow Carmelita Fox down. “Sorry. Just wasn’t expecting that.”

Sly’s smile was wry, but his voice was soft. “I was.”

Carmelita leaned against him, and they stood there for a moment, half-embracing in their living room. Logistical questions about dinner plans and decorations fell away, briefly, as they savoured the feeling in the air. What had just happened, and the unique atmosphere of the day, and, of course, each other.

The silence was broken by a soft murmur.

“She’s a good kid.”

“Really?” said Sly innocently. “She doesn’t get it from me!”

Carmelita scoffed. 

“Okay, maybe she does,” he admitted. “I have many wonderful qualities to pass on, as is evident in both our daughters…”

He cupped his wife’s cheek. Lost himself, for a moment, in those deep brown eyes.

“But you’re a better influence than I could ever be.”

Her reply was a kiss. 

The moment passed, slowly, but they didn’t hurry to get back to decorating. It was still early, and they had several hours before the annual dinner they held for Murray and Bentley and Penelope - familial relations just as important as the gallery of photographs in front of them. As the girls engaged in hushed discussion of cheap chocolate upstairs.

“Oh,” said Carmelita. “While she and I were talking, I realized that Elyna’s never met my parents. We should fix that.”

“We should,” said Sly. “Sometime in winter, maybe? Whenever suits your folks. Might take us a little while to get over there, but we could throw in a few detours on the way, really make use of the journey…”

She smiled. “And when did I say we’d be going to them? They’d be perfectly happy to come here. You’re just-”

“-taking every chance I see to go on a trip, yes,” he smirked back. “C’mon, ‘Lita, you can hardly be that surprised. Old habits, etcetera…”

“Are you really so eager to escape?”

She said it as a joke, but he didn’t bounce back with another quip. He stood there, in his living room. His daughters upstairs. His parents watching over him from behind the glass of their picture frame. His brothers and sister-in-law, still thriving, quietly, the same way he was, on their way in a few hours. And, above all else, the love of his life in his arms.

His smile was as warm as his voice.

“Nah. We’ve got something pretty good here.”

#SlyFox #Elyna #just some regular-boy prose to close out!

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (15)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.2k (this chapter), 49.6k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"So," Phil starts, and then pauses. He has no real idea how to say this.

His parents wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts and his mum mutes the telly. Having their undivided attention doesn't really help, it just makes Phil sweat a bit. He can't even bring himself to sit down, too wired with anxious energy as he is.

The video has only been live for a day, but it's already one of Phil's most popular. People are clamoring in the comments for more; demands for proof and simple curiosity about what could explain his experiences. He's already had a call from Martyn about the benefits of going back and doing an update, but PJ and Sophie have put their two cents in as 'absolutely not'. Chris offered a don't care and then asked for Phil's mum's lasagna recipe.

Phil wants to stay. It's not so much about the mystery, for him, but he's pretty sure his friends and maybe even his brother already know that. He's got his own reasons for not buying a train ticket the moment the video went live and asking his divisive audience what they wanted him to do. Yeah, he'd been sort of hoping for this outcome.

He's not sure if he wants to stay for himself, for the stagnation that being here allows him, or if he wants to stay for deep dimples and a nice laugh. Probably a bit of column A and a bit of column B, if he's honest with himself.

"I uploaded the video on this case," Phil tells his parents. "And there were a lot of, um, unanswered questions. Because of that whole thing with the footage."

"Phil," his dad says, exasperation in his voice already.

"And that means more money from one case," Phil presses on, "because I don't have many expenses here and the ad revenue was really good in comparison to my last five videos. Martyn really thinks I should look into this some more. I promise I won't be here for months or anything, I just - just give me another week. Please, I just need a week."

Money talk usually gets his parents to back down a bit, but they exchange a long look between them that convinces Phil it isn't going to work this time. His mind is already whirring quickly, trying to settle on arguments that it thinks might win him this battle. He considers telling them that this is more than just a video to him, that his whole future feels like it's resting on this one mystery, but he has a suspicion that they wouldn't be very impressed with that lack of foresight. He's ready to bring out specific numbers when their silent communication breaks and his mum gives him a small smile.

"Phil," she says, echoing his dad with a bit more warmth and a lot more pity. "You know we need to talk about this, dear, why don't you sit down?"

He shakes his head and shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets so they don't see the trembling. He's not scared, he's just anxious, and his brain and body are conspiring to make him feel like he's going to die if something unexpected happens.

Phil doesn't like change. He doesn't like seeing his childhood house like this, he doesn't like having his career up in the air, and he doesn't like the way his parents no longer trust him to do what's best for himself. The worst part is that he's not even sure they're wrong - Phil knows he isn't thinking logically right now, that Martyn is the one who even mentioned ad revenue while Phil was busy wondering how best to prove himself.

"I'm good," says Phil. He hopes that the nerves aren't as palpable as they feel to him.

"Okay, well," his mum says, briskly rearranging things on the coffee table like she has to be doing something with her hands while they talk about this. He's reminded a bit of Dan in the coffee shop, of Chris in the attic, and he wonders what it is about him that makes people need to split their focus like that. "Your dad and I have been talking."

"About how I need to grow up?" Phil offers, heart in his throat. It feels like he might laugh or cry at any moment. "Yeah. I've noticed."

"We're retiring, Phil," his dad says. That's not exactly news to Phil - he knows why they're selling the house, after all - but he bites his tongue and lets his dad speak. "We've understood the... unstable nature of your work for several years now, but we can't keep bailing you out whenever you have a bad month. You're a smart man and you've got a good degree, you should have something steadier under your belt."

"We love how creative you are," Phil's mum chimes in. It almost sounds like they've practiced this. Phil bites down harder. "And if you can channel that creativity in a way that isn't so dangerous, you'll have our full support."

Phil kind of wishes that he already had their full support, but he's already had this conversation with himself. The work isn't fun for him anymore, and the risk of getting arrested for trespassing isn't a low one. It's almost not worth it when he doesn't have that full-blown excitement about a case.

He doesn't need every haunt to have a nice ending wrapped up with a bow, but he does need to like the content he's producing. Otherwise there isn't any point to it.

Still. It sucks to hear.

Phil deflates a little bit. His automatic defensiveness that springs up whenever his parents start questioning his many bad decisions in life is fading to something that feels like bone-deep exhaustion. The anxiety is still there, thrumming under his skin, but there's nothing he can really do about that. The truth is that he's been feeling listless and defeated and trapped for a lot longer than he's been back in his parents' house. There's no real point in pretending otherwise.

"Give me a week," he repeats, quiet. "I want to finish this project either way, y'know? Just let me stay for the rest of this week and - and if it doesn't pan out, if I don't find anything new, then... then I'm done. I'll stop. I'll find something else."

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" his mum asks. The relief that pulls at her shoulders and her pursed lips is enough for Phil to be sure.

"Yeah," says Phil. He gives them a little shrug. "I'm comfortable with what I'm doing. I like making videos and exploring places with cool stories, and even talking to people has been getting better. But you're... you've got a point. I can't keep doing this forever. Not at the pace and quality I like to maintain. If this video goes well, it might help me break into a more diverse and less dangerous niche, which would make everyone happy, I think."

His dad nods at him. "Okay. You can stay until Sunday, because that's when we're going to the Isle. You can do whatever editing and post-production stuff you need to when you get back to Brighton. We'll expect a call when you know for sure what you're going to do, Phil."

Phil swallows, clenches his fists tighter in his pockets. "You'll be the first to know."

--

Nobody asks Phil to leave, but he can't stay in the aggressively neutral version of his parents' house and field their 'casual' questions about what sort of things he might want to do if YouTube doesn't work. He escapes to the city again, sending a message to Dan on the bus. Instead of asking if they want to hang out with him, he simply asks where he can meet them today. As if it's a given that they're going to be spending time together.

Maybe that's presumptuous of him, but Dan uses an exclamation mark when they reply, im at home!, so Phil thinks it's probably fine.

Dan meets him at the door this time, mid-ramble about the broken dishwasher in their flat as if social niceties are no longer expected of them. That suits Phil. He grins back at Dan and joins them in the small but tidy galley kitchen, letting Dan talk his ear off while they scrub at some discoloured Tupperware.

"Sorry," Dan interrupts themself, turning big and apologetic eyes on Phil like they've just registered that he's standing there. "I'm having a weird brain day. Bit all over the place, you know."

"That's fine," Phil says honestly. He smiles, because Dan doesn't look all that convinced by it. "No, really, I don't mind. I like listening to you talk."

The blush spreads across Dan's face too quickly for them to hide by turning away. They try, anyway, and Phil is left looking at their face in profile, turned down and rosy as it is. "Normally I at least break for breath. What's new with you?"

"Since two days ago?" Phil teases. Dan's dimple makes an appearance right before the smile splits their face, and Phil has to twist his own fingers together so he doesn't reach out and poke at it. He's still working through some stuff, still doesn't want to make any decisions about this without thinking it over carefully, but he's never been good at resisting temptation either. "Uh, not much. My parents are still on my case. I'm getting good feedback on the video, but you probably know that already."

"It was a good video," says Dan. They pause as they dry their big hands on an old tea towel. "I... appreciate you saying that stuff about me."

"I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

Dan meets his eyes again, almost stubbornly ignoring the colour in their own cheeks. "I can appreciate things that you think are true, dingus. Take the gratitude already."

Phil grins. "Never."

--

There are snacks after that and some video games that Phil loses spectacularly and some good ferret snuggles. As the afternoon turns to evening, Phil watches Dan rearrange some titles on the bookshelf as they chatter about one of their science-y classes, no longer self conscious about how much they're talking. He's sitting on Dan's soft, unmade bed with Pixel, who keeps rolling around in the sheets like she's trying to get comfortable.

Phil is already comfortable. It's hard for him to ignore that Dan's bedroom feels so much like a safe haven in the way that his old house no longer does.

At some point Dan gives up on whatever system they were trying to implement. They pick Tofu up off the floor and flop onto the bed with Phil, wiggling around in almost the exact same way Pixel had. Phil presses his lips together tightly so he doesn't laugh.

"I think that things can be improved," Dan is saying, and Phil tries to figure out if they're still talking about the environment or if Dan has picked up the loose thread from their earlier rant about Bethesda. Pixel and Tofu are both running around like Dan and Phil are just bony jungle gyms, and Dan barely even stutters when one of them steps on their nose. "Of course they can be improved, it's not something you just give up on when things get tough, but the problem is that the people in charge have to implement the changes that are necessary for improvement, and - ow, that's my ear, don't bite that - and, uh... where was I?"

"You were telling me about climate change," says Phil. "Or potentially Todd Howard's ambivalence towards a quote-unquote 'perfect game'. I honestly lost track."

For a moment, Dan is quiet. Phil's anxiety rears its head for the first time since he got here, but luckily he hasn't stuck his foot in his mouth this time - Dan starts laughing, more or less cackling, and they roll closer to Phil to bury their face in a pillow.

Phil grins and reaches out to tug at one of Dan's curls, fascinated by the way it just springs back into place. He's done this to PJ once or twice or six times, but he's usually had a couple drinks before he resorts to it. Dan comes out of hiding with tears of laughter welling up in their pretty brown eyes and their dimples in full force, grinning up at Phil like he's the funniest person in the world.

"Those are both really important issues," Dan says, trying their best to sound deadpan when they're so obviously gleeful.

They wiggle around again and Phil says, "You look exactly like Pixel when you do that."

He's pretty sure that Dan honks at that, but he's immediately distracted by a ferret trying to bite his eyebrow.

This is good. Phil likes this. He's trying to dig himself out of the mindset that he'd backed himself into when he first started noticing Dan, because PJ might have had a point. Okay, so PJ definitely had a point, and Phil has been a bit of an idiot.

He won't know for sure how Dan feels about him being gay and uncompromising about that fact unless he asks, and he doesn't think he's ready to do that just yet. But there's a rainbow flag on Dan's wall and they don't consider themselves not not a guy, so... Phil thinks that maybe he's been assigning a strictness to Dan's own relationship to gender and sexuality that isn't actually there.

Dan is talking again, to their ferrets this time, and Phil is almost overwhelmed by the force of affection that washes over him now that he isn't trying so hard to hold it back. Dan's leg is pressed against his own and they're holding Pixel up like they're playing airplane with her and Phil likes them so goddamn much.

"Did you want to," Phil starts, interrupting Dan's musing about what goes on in a ferret's tiny brain. Dan looks up at him with such genuine happiness on their face that Phil's words stick in his throat. He should be asking if Dan wants to go out for dinner again or if they've seen whatever blockbuster action film is playing in cinemas this week, but that's not what comes out of his mouth. When Dan raises their eyebrows quizzically, what Phil ends up asking is, "Uh, come spend the night in the haunted house with me?"

Great. Real romantic.

--

Dan doesn't make a secret about how much they hate this plan. They say it over and over, but they don't take any of the outs that Phil offers them.

"I hate this plan," Dan says as they make a bunch of sandwiches. It seems like way too much for just the two of them, but Phil isn't about to say no to having a near endless supply of peanut butter and bread when they're stuck in a dusty attic again. "This is stupid. You should have just left it at the first video, Phil, that was fine."

"You don't have to come with me," Phil reminds them for the umpteenth time.

Dan glares. "No, I'm coming."

"You're a very complicated person," says Phil.

With a heavy sort of sigh, like they've been dealing with Phil for years instead of a week, Dan finally sets the peanut butter down. "Look," they say, pointing the dull knife at Phil for emphasis. "I can hate this plan and still want to make sure you don't get fucking arrested or possessed or trip down the stairs or something. PJ knows where I live."

"I think he'd be in the camp of me deserving it if I died in the Wilkins place," Phil says, his lips tugging into a grin. "But thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan mutters. "Will you at least tell me why we're going back? I know you're fucking stubborn and all, but I didn't figure you for someone who beats dead horses."

"Oh, that's a terrible idiom," Phil says, mostly to himself. He reaches out to squeeze Dan's shoulder when he sees them get all huffy at the apparent avoidance. The tension leaving Dan's body under his palm is frustrating to feel, because there's nothing Phil wants more than to lean into it. The problem, of course, is that he really does need to talk to Dan before he starts trying to hug them in their own kitchen. Phil lets his hand drop awkwardly between them and shrugs. "Well, uh. This is the first time in a long time I've actually been excited about a project. And that makes me think that maybe I've worn out my welcome here. Not... not here like Manchester here, but here like... my job, here."

Dan leans their hip against the counter and looks at Phil with their brow all furrowed. "This is an ultimatum," they say. "Like, to yourself."

"Yeah," says Phil. "I need to solve this - or at least find something else that I can show to people. Because if I don't, then I need to actually look at myself and admit I'm not doing something I like anymore."

"It sounds like you're already looking at yourself," Dan says quietly.

"I guess."

"No, you are," Dan insists, their voice stronger now that they can assert an opinion. "Trust me, I'm a pro at unproductive self-reflection and existentialism. Who am I, what does it all matter, I know the song and dance. And I don't think that getting more footage is going to erase what you're already thinking, Phil. Tell me if I'm out of line, whatever, but if you want to do something else with your life then just do something else with your life."

The automatic defensiveness threatens to make Phil snap back at Dan that this isn't any of their business, but he's had a lot of practice in keeping his negative thoughts to himself. He gives Dan a little humourless smile and shrugs his shoulders.

"You're twenty-one," Phil says. "And a student. I don't really expect you to get it."

Dan puts their hands on their hips like they're settling in for a proper row, but instead they just say, "I know. I don't know what you're going through, sure, I doubt anyone knows what anyone else is going through at any time. And, yeah, I've got another year before I have to worry about my career. But I've made some fucking tough decisions in my life, mate. I dropped out of my law course after two lectures. I don't talk to my family anymore. I've tried on so many different names and labels that it would make your head spin. You don't like your job anymore, and one video isn't going to change that."

"Yeah, probably not." Phil looks down at their little collection of sandwiches, feeling lost and stubborn and a bit scared about how much Dan sees him. "But I have to try, y'know? I can't just give up. I have to try."

There's a long moment of silence. Then, Dan sighs.

"Okay. Put these in a container, we don't use unnecessary plastic in this flat. Just whatever they fit in. I'll make some coffee for the road and find our Scrabble board."

#quiet on widow's peak #words words words

[rocketonthemoon]

Soooo, gimme more of the transseiya stories, like, finding allies in H&M over time, discussing surgery, etc etc....oh my god so many thoughts in my head.

Haruka stares at their phone. It’s unnervingly quiet. Has been since about three minutes ago when it rattled its way across the kitchen table. They haven’t taken their eyes off it after its little dance. Something about it all just itches. They don’t get calls from her and especially not at this time of night. It definitely hadn’t been an accident, either. The call lasted unanswered for too long and cut too short for it to be anything but a bail out. 

Haruka chuckles at the idea. ‘Course she would cower out. 

Bzzt! The nervous dance begins again, as if on cue. Almost as if it knew they were talking shit. Haruka lets it ring. Unhurried, they glance at the digital kitchen clock. Two in the morning almost always means a call for help. And Haruka is nothing if not a sucker. Damnit. 

They pick up on the last ring.

- - - - - - - - - - -

“You know, the park’s not exactly open this time of day.”

Seiya jumps as Haruka sits down on the bench next to her. That was satisfying. Even more so as she scowls in answer.

“Who closes parks?” Seiya mutters darkly. “Makes no sense.”

Haruka shrugged. They tug at their jacket zipper, trying to settle in. It’s kinda spooky, being in a park at night. They’d always thought so. Even back in the days they used to patrol with Michiru, waiting for The Silence. Something about the absence of movement where there should be. They try to shrug the feeling off, only partially successful. Seiya’s not exactly good enough company to ward away the chill of an empty playground. 

“So what’d you bring me out here for anyways?” Haruka asks. “I’m assuming not for a smoke?”

Seiya shoots them a sideways look, black brows scrunching together. “You smoke?”

Haruka shakes their head. “Michiru hates the smell.” But Makoto likes the company, they add silently. The memory of the last late night conversation drifts by. It makes some conversations easier. Something to get rid of the nervous energy while talking. And Seiya looks like she could use the help. 

She sits almost completely on the edge of the bench. Elbows on her knees and heels hovering off the ground like she’s preparing any minute to launch herself into the darkness. Seiya’s normal low ponytail is missing the normal neat, careful wrappings and Haruka has a sudden image of her bolting out of whatever hotel room the Starlights found to crash to meet up here.

“Wh-”

“Where are you staying?”

Seiya blinks, mouth half formed around words cut off at the breath. “What?” 

“Sorry,” the corners of Haruka’s mouth pull tightly downwards. “You just looked so…” They shrug, looking her up and down as ways of explanation. It didn’t help the sudden self-consciousness sitting over the both of them. Why were they doing this? “Are you guys, like. Safe? Or something?”

“We got back a week ago,” Seiya says slowly. Her eyebrows almost meld together in confusion. “The Prin-” The word breaks off, jagged and sharp. Seiya’s scowl at the ground seems to watch it fall. A muscle works in her jaw. “Kakyuu insisted on finding a place of our own this time. I’m staying at the shrine.” 

Haruka nods in sympathy. “It’s hard giving them space,” they agree. 

Seiya’s hands clench around each other for a moment. Two. And then tension slinks away into the night with a sigh. She looks tired. With sagging shoulders and a too distant gaze, she just looks beat. Haruka watches from the corner of their eye as Seiya slowly sweeps the hair back from her eyes. More than just a trip across the skies - although they knew nothing about what that was like - or even for the time of night. 

“How do you do it?” she asks after a while. A small question. More of a confession really. Like someone pushing the words from her lungs. It’s enough to make Haruka swallow back the snappy response that sprung to mind. Instead, they settle for a sigh. A smoke would really help this conversation.

Their leg bounces in the silence. “You just kinda,” they start, mulling it over. “I dunno. Deal with it, I guess. Accept you can’t control what they do.” 

“But what about…” The muscle in her jaw works and jumps as she chews over words. “But can’t you? To a certain point? So people just listen more? See you better?”

Something lights up a corner of Haruka’s mind at the desperation in the last bit of that question. Almost a nagging familiarity. “They’re their own people, dude. We can’t exactly be everything they need all the time. And they don’t want us to be.”

“No, I don’t mean -” Seiya curses something. A clipped, almost hissing noise of language that settles into a low moan of sorts. It could be anything, but swearing in all languages feels the same to Haruka. 

It’s different watching someone else flounder for words. Does their leg jump as much as hers does? They know for sure they don’t mutter through things. Maybe that’s the consequence of needing to translate. Honestly, it’s a little grating. They stuff down the urge to reach over and still her bouncing leg, to cut off the strange, rapid sounds. But without an outlet it only gets worse, they know. So they wait. And wait.

What feels like hours later there’s a pained sort of noise. One that’s not entirely otherworldly. “I’m just,” Seiya starts, voice catching on a strangled breath. The words are slow, almost like her tongue can’t quite remember how to form the words. “I’m tired of feeling like this. Like I’m lying everyday to people when I go out, lying to myself saying it’s fine. And I miss how it used to be before-” A reflex swallow and air breathes into Seiya’s hands. One slow, long breath that whistles through the space between skin. “Before everyone…”

The nagging familiar light finally erupts into clarity and Haruka openly stares now. Really watching. Michiru always teases how long it takes them to really notice what’s going on and maybe, maybe Haruka’s been oblivious this whole time on this bench. But a memory of before - Seiya, bold, brash, and bigger than life that first night they met and every night afterwards in that stupid red suit. Cocky and carefree in a backwards hat, shoulders back, proud and daring the world to try anything - blares bright compared to now. The way Seiya’s shoulders tuck in, the way those blue eyes bore into the grass below, the desperation of being seen as before…

Well, it just all rings a bit too familiar.

“Before everyone found out,” Haruka finishes. Seiya flinches the smallest bit, chest curling inwards, nose scrunching in pained frustration. Fingers flex. Forearms stiffen as the words linger. There’s a nod, robotic and halting, gaze determinedly fixed on the middle distance of the dirt. 

Haruka sinks further back into the bench, their own eyes skywards. Silence is good for thinking sometimes. Wait around long enough and the right thing to say will show up for you to use. Right now, though, maybe not so much. Especially since Seiya seems to wind tighter with every passing moment next to them. The bouncing leg has stopped, trading in for the coiled tension when Haruka first sat down. They let it happen - old habits die hard and it’s still a little fun to let Seiya stew - but eventually. Eventually the too familiar wins out. 

“You can go back, you know,” Haruka says towards the stars. “To Before, I mean.”

Seiya begins to shake. From the night chill or the idea, Haruka can’t really tell, but it brings an urge to do something to soothe. 

There’s a sniffle. A breath a bit too hard. “It won’t be the same,” he finally says, voice hesitantly sinking into that low skip that takes Haruka back to an after concert dressing room. Different from the rest of the conversation. More like Seiya they know. 

“Nope.” Seiya doesn’t jump at the hand on his shoulder. Only unwinds. Relaxing at Haruka’s touch like a house cat settling in. A first for everything, as they say. “It’ll be better.”

#michiruspet #Ask a Rocket #sat down to write something with transfeelings and ended up writing a coming out thing #SO THERE WE ARE I GUESS #Seiya Kou #Haruka Tenoh #my BroTP in action #BSSM #Transboy!Seiya #Genderqueer!Haruka #fanfiction #Rocket Writes a Thing

[starwroughtchild]

Her annoyance was palpable.

Snow crowned the black of her hair as his twin stared at him with gently pursed lips and the smallest of scowls but he wasn’t fooled. The rush of affection and relief that had come over her when she’d seen him not but minutes past was gone now and that scowl was no more than the cloud that promised a storm. Unlike himself Heliaux had never mastered the art of the mask, the passive gaze and the stillness of emotions. She was a sun creature, a woman of fire and heat and all things passionate. She showed how she felt and when she felt it and, watching her, Silene couldn’t help but admire and envy such a freedom now as he had countless times before. “Are you going to say anything?”

“You grew a beard.”

“Yes.”

“And cut your hair.”

“Apparently.”

“You actually look like a man now.” There was concern behind the scorching tone of her voice but it did little to lessen the burn. The letter that had reached her the day before himself was crushed as her hand curled into a fist around it.

“Heliaux--”

“Three. Years. Three years! You couldn’t have, oh, I don’t know- written before now? Visited. Come by Aetheryte, sent a raven, magicked me a Gods damned blood note to tell me you were alright?!”

He withheld a sigh and leaned back against the stone banister behind him. Honestly it was best to let her get it all out. Her concerns and her angers were valid and really there was no talking to her when the sun in her flared like this. “I know.”

“Yes, you know. You know everything, don’t you Silene. Well did you know how worried I was about you? Did you know no one had any idea if you were still alive? Did you KNOW I’ve been wearing mourning black for TWO YEARS?!” 

Shame was not a strong enough word. “...no.”

“I’m SHOCKED. REALLY.”

“Heliaux-”

“Who would have thought.”

“Heliaux-”

“NO! You let me rage, Silene Charbonneau! Gods dammit I deserve it!” He couldn’t argue with that. “Our mother..my husband, -your- brother, my -kids!-. My kids, Silene! When they asked me ‘what happened to Uncle Silene’ I couldn’t tell them. ‘Oh don’t worry Luna I’m sure Uncle Silene hasn’t been eaten by a dragon or died in a DITCH! “

“I wasn’t -dead-, Heliaux.”

“I didn’t know that!” 

“And I did come back once or twice! On business.”

“Oh, BUSINESS! Thanks for dropping in while you were here. Anything! I would have accepted anything to have seen you again even if it meant visiting our father!”

“I would never have asked you to do that.”

“But you never asked me anything! Never told me anything!”

"..what do you want to know.”

“The truth! Do you really think writing me a letter is going to cut it?” She raised the hand curled around the crushed yellow parchment. “I know you! I know there’s more to the past three years than ‘I was busy’. I’m your sister, Silene! I’m your twin! I know you better than anyone! I’VE WORN BLACK FOR YOU FOR TWO YEARS!”

“You hate black.”

“I HATE BLACK!”

She wasn’t and had never been the type of woman to cry easily, and yet the gold of her eyes was too bright, too wet and full of anger to dismiss the possibility of tears. She waited as he considered what to share with her and what to hold back, what truths to admit and lies to create to keep her safe. “...dragons.” The word came from him before he could stop and consider the consequences. 

“....do I get any CONTEXT or-”

“I was with...the dragons. In Dravania.”

“...Were you -trying- to get burned as a heretic?!”

“You ASKED!” He looked nervously around the Crozier and, save for the heads of two Hyur that had turned to look at his outburst, had not drawn any more attention. “After the War ended I...I left. I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t want to tell anyone because-”

“Because if you had..” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Everyone that lived in Ishgard knew the power of the Fury, the zealotry of the Inquisitors and the location of the Witch Drop. “But...why? The war was over!”

“The war was over in Ishgard... but not with me.”

“Fury save me from your poetic martyred soul, Silene.”

“LISTEN!” The bite in his voice was enough to draw her full and surprised attention to him at last. Silene never raised his voice. Never. “I know what Ser Aymeric and the Warrior of Light told us, but if you know me like you claim you know me you’d know I wasn’t satisfied with the answers! There were too many unanswered questions left, too many truths unsaid. A war that had been lasting for a thousand  years, suddenly over in a span of weeks? Dragons that were once our enemies suddenly appearing in the city to save lives instead of taking them? Why? How? Did they expect everyone to stay content and take the word of three people? So I left! I left to find out for myself the how and why!”

Her scowl was deeper now, her brows knit. Her silence was her acquiescence to the plea she could hear in his voice as he talked. Arms crossed she leaned back against the stone banister behind her, golden eyes fixed expectantly on her twin.

“I found my answers. Too many of them! Everything we were taught..everything we’ve ever known about the Dragonsong war was a lie. Who started it and why, about the Dravanian Horde and Shiva and....and everything! I’ve been there, Heliaux. Anyx Trine. I’ve seen the stones myself, I’ve learned the history from dragon song with my own ears and gazed upon the old Ishgardian colonies in the dragon lands with my own eyes. Sohm Ahl. Shor Kai. Zenith..I’ve been there. I’ve seen them. A thousand years of truth and lies written in stone and the dragons, Heliaux...I’ve talked to them. Yes!” He could understand the shocked expression of her face even if she looked at him like she would a rambling madman. “Did you know when they talk...they sing? And it’s beautiful.”

He turned from her and began to pace in low and slow strides, his eyes downcast to the ground and his hands gesturing at thin air. He was full of a nervous, excited yet angry energy she rarely ever saw in her usually still and serene sibling.

“I couldn’t come back and tell you this. Sending you a letter? Impossible. Even standing here now years later it is dangerous for me to be telling you this. I wanted to tell you, I did, but..” He looked at her, read her as she was surely reading him: in the stiffness of her body, the tightness of her arms, the bright intensity of her stare. She had wanted to truth. He would give it to her. “I didn’t want to share it with anyone. Not mother. Not Jacques. Not you. Even if I had died I would have done so on my own terms, from my own mistakes and inexperience. I wasn’t under anyones shadow, anyones thrall but my own. And you...you don’t know. You can’t possibly know..how that feels for me. You had as much trauma from our father as anyone but I...I was my fathers creature. You got out. You got out and...and I was still trapped.”

It was her turn to turn her gaze from him, her turn for her cheeks to darken in shame. Words unsaid, a conversation unspoken nevertheless moved between them and settled down with a heavy weight.

He moved to her side then, his hand gently enclosing one of hers that was just as pale. “I needed my own life, Heliaux. I needed to get out. To make mistakes. To eat spicy foods and sweat in a deserts heat. To wear something other than wool. To see things that were more than shadows and knives in the dark. I needed to meet people, to make real friends and develop real feelings. To be confused by those feelings. To walk in a forest with sunlight on my skin. To sleep under starlight. And I needed to have that, all of that without you, just as you had your family without me.”

There were very few people he allowed to touch him and two were far away from Ishgard. The Lady lit from sunlight was in the green shade of the forests in Gridania and Suna was in a sun baked Kugane with the troupe that was his family. The other was here and it was she that leaned against him, hand clenching his so tightly it hurt. “I will not apologize for getting out of that house..from our family. From that man.”

“I know.”

“And...I’m sorry for what he put you through both because of me and not. I would take it back if I could but Silene, you have always had a place in my family. You stayed away from me.” She looked at him, her expression fierce and unforgiving. “I’m your sister. I love you. I would kill for you. So I’ll be your support, mon frère, but you have to let me. You have to let me and others in...like you used to.”

He gazed at her a while, she who was so like him and yet not. Slowly he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead and a squeeze to her hand. "I missed you. Ma coeur du soleil.”

"Mon frère de lune. How long are you staying in Ishgard?”

"As long as you want me to.”

“Good. You owe me three years worth of a story.”

He followed her as she turned and made her way towards the steps leading into the Foundation. “That’s a long story.”

She turned to smile at him, lamplight playing on the same ash gray highlights in her hair that was in his own. “Probably, but I bet it’s a good one.”

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

@varae-ver-you-are and @ladyrivienne for mentions

#i started out strong #and it got a little weak there in the end #I'll go back and edit a bit #Silene Charbonneau #[starwrought child] #[heresy within] #writing

[mentalhealthandlgbt-blog]

Notes from the Symposium

I’m so sorry I haven’t been posting much in the past little while! I got caught up in my symposium presentation for the 20% Project and all sorts of school work.

So, for those that don’t really know what “the symposium” is, it’s a part of my 20% project where I create a display board that must include: my project title, my goals, my inspiration for the project, evidence of progress, and the community benefit. Below I have a picture of the board and such from the symposium.

During the symposium, I also had a little box where people could share their advice or experience(s) with mental illness(es) and/or the LGBT+ community. I was honestly surprised at the amount of contributions I received, and I decided I could make a post of all the advice and experiences! For some, I’ll just post the advice people had, and for others I might add a little bit of commentary in reply.

Mental Health

“I don’t really know if I always had anxiety, but I do know that it definitely grew when I reached high school.. I was in an abusive and toxic friendship and realized I have some past traumas from sexual abuse as a kid. It makes me wonder if I was ever ‘normal’ or like other people who don’t have these mental health issues. I also realized I might have a BFRB (Body Focused Repetitive Behavior). I’ve picked at my skin my whole life. What if that has to do with trauma too? The anxiety and skin picking really affect my life and how I act. I can’t even imagine not having these things. But I’m trying my best to be open about them and talk about them instead of bottle them all up. I think I have a good support system but they don’t really know much about me or my past so I can’t be sure.”

To start, I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through abuse. I know sorry doesn’t mean a whole lot, but I don’t know what to say when I haven’t experienced what you have. I looked up BFRBs (https://www.bfrb.org/learn-about-bfrbs), and what you described definitely seems to fit that. I think it’s really awesome that you’re opening up to people, even though I’m sure it can be hard to trust everyone. I hope things will work out well and that you really will have a good support system.

“Stay calm and stay strong. It’s okay to cry or be nervous. Don’t doubt yourself and keep moving forward.”

While this is a bit cliche, I do think it’s important. Sometimes hearing “stay calm” or “keep moving forward” can be quite frustrating, but it’s important to remember that it’s okay to not be okay all the time.

“I used to have an eating disorder 8th - 10th grade, I had and still have very low self-esteem, and always thought/cared of what others thought about me. I wouldn’t be able to focus on school because I had no energy. The times I did eat, I always threw up, and started working out, I would even pass out sometimes. Having a piece of gum was ‘too much.’”

First, I’m glad you were able to get past the eating disorder; I know that can be very hard to do. I also know that low self-esteem can be hard to work past, so try little steps in building self-confidence.

“In my 9 years of diagnosed Major Depression, I’ve learned that people are not always out to get you or make you feel horrible. A lot of people are ready to help and listen, there are many resources available for help as well. I also learned through friends and life that getting rid of things like fake friends or ignoring rude people helps so much as well. Always take time for yourself, never feel that self care is selfish or a burden.”

I like this because I know it can be hard to not be pessimistic about the world and people around you, but surrounding yourself with the right people can create a great support group

“I’ve noticed overcoming anxiety does not mean to run away from what scares you but to breathe and DO YOUR BEST! It gets easier with every challenge (: “

This is definitely an important piece of advice here. Running from problems makes them worse in the long-run, so just do your best to push forward - even if it’s just baby steps. Any amount of improvement is good improvement.

“I struggled with anxiety for the majority of my life, and I didn’t know how to get rid of it. I was insecure about my looks and my weight. And people did not help me overcome them. Little did I know I was hanging around the wrong people. My friends now have helped me to overcome not only my anxiety, but helped me become a better person, and I try to help people who suffered and stressed like I did.”

I’m glad that you figured out that you had bad friends and found good ones, and I’m happy that they’ve been able to help you. It’s also really cool that you’re trying to help people you know are experiencing what you already have.

“Mental health is important to everyone and we all should try to be kind to each other and love each other to make the harshness of life a little easier.”

This is such a wholesome message. It’s important to remember that a lot of people are hiding struggles, so try to be nice to everyone.

“Such a cliche, but ALWAYS check up on your friends! Whether you send a text or call them, even if you’re not on talking terms, do it.”

I agree that you should check up on your friends, yes. However, if you aren’t on talking terms and you suddenly text someone, they might be needing alone time or just might not be ready to talk yet, and it might not go over well.

“Get used to cutting people off whenever they interfere with your mental health. People will come and go (bad people that is), so being able to leave them as soon as a red flag pops up is important. Your mental health is always the first thing to worry about.”

This is definitely important. Being able to recognize and leave bad people is so important in helping yourself and taking care of your mental health.

“I feel like sometimes I live in a mind filled with three different people and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

So, I did a bit of research on this but remember, I’M NOT A DOCTOR. Based on a few sites, this sounds like it could possibly be DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder). Here’s the definition I found on one site: “Dissociative identity disorder. Formerly known as multiple personality disorder, this disorder is characterized by alternating between multiple identities. A person may feel like one or more voices are trying to take control in their head. Often these identities may have unique names, characteristics, mannerisms and voices.” And this is the site that was on: https://www.nami.org/Learn-More/Mental-Health-Conditions/Dissociative-Disorders

LGBT+

“I personally identify as asexual panromantic and just questioning gender. I used to identify as pansexual but obviously changed that. When I identified as pan a few of my friends would make fun of it saying the whole ‘there are only 2 genders’ or ‘I identify as an attack helicopter.’ And that really affected how I felt about myself and definitely created a fear in me when I realized I wasn’t cisgender. I was afraid my friends would have more to make fun of me about. And when I realized I was ace I found so much hate online that I was afraid to say I was in fear of being called ‘special’ or a ‘snowflake.’ I’m not sure I’ve overcome that fear yet but I’m slowly coming out to my friends and explaining my fears to them so hopefully they’ll understand. But then again their opinions on what I am/identify as don’t matter.”

As you probably know, I identify the same way as you do. I never really got backlash, and I’m sorry you had bad experiences with that; people can be so rude and ignorant sometimes. I’m proud that you’re trying to open up to friends, and that you’ve realized people’s opinions don’t matter.

“As a LGBT youth it’s kind of hard coming into your own, but remember this: it’s your life don’t let someone make you live a life that you know doesn’t make you happy. Everyone deserves love and happiness.”

I like this a lot. It can be hard to ignore people’s opinions, especially if you’re around them a lot, but it’s good to remember that no one else should control how you live.

“It’s hard having to come back out as questioning when everybody knows I’m gay. It’s hard to be comfortable with my sexuality.”

I’ve never had to re-come out before, but I really did have a long period of questioning before I really figured things out. It’s important to remember that you don’t have to have things figured out all the time and it’s okay to not have a label, especially if any label is making you uncomfortable.

“I haven’t figured out everything yet, but I learned to take time and learn yourself. Don’t try and rush or put on a label too early. It’s okay to not know.”

This is really important. When I was younger, I really tried to push labels on myself. Eventually, I realized that if I gave myself time, I’d be able to understand myself better. I didn’t know for a while, and that was okay. yeah

“Questioning yourself is how you find the answers to a lot of your unasked or unanswered questions. I asked myself the big-ol’ question of why. Why do I feel differently towards girls? Why are people weird to gay people? Am I gay? Little did I know the answer was yes. And little did I know that it was okay.”

So, I talked about my experience in the previous answer. I can honestly say though that I used to ask myself those same questions a lot. I was confused for a while, especially with my religious upbringing. It took me a while to be okay with my sexuality and identity.

“Don’t ever blame yourself nor your sexuality on why things happen. Things were going to go a certain way with every decision.”

I’m not sure I understand the 2nd part, but it’s definitely important to remember that your sexuality isn’t a choice or consequence of some decision you make. Sometimes it is based on past experiences, but a lot of the time you really are born this way.

“Don’t hide who you really are but love it and show who you are. You’re you and no one can change that. :) “

I love this, it’s so wholesome. Sometimes it can be hard, but always try to remember that it’s okay to be you, no matter what others say.

“Involving yourself with people who support you would be the #1 priority. Living life hidden away isn’t worth it to be losing those years to people who don’t approve. Detaching from family is necessary is abusive mentally and physically.”

This is an important lesson that I took a while to learn. I had a hard time defying/detaching from family, but it really is important if they’re abusive and/or unsupportive.

“I’m not part of the LGBT+ community but I still support it 100%”

“I’m no LGBT but I still believe everyone should be treated equally :) “

These are both so cute. I’m glad to see some allies here.

Both/Miscellaneous

“I’ve struggled a lot with depression and anxiety all my life but always tried to hide it because I felt embarrassed about having issues. I also struggle with my sexuality because I’ve always dated guys but I find girls attractive too. I don’t want to admit that I might be bisexual.”

I don’t think mental illness is something you should be embarrassed, but I understand with all the stigma there is in the world why you would be. I know it’s hard, but try to remember that stigmas are BS, and that you’re an amazing human. As for sexuality, I know how hard it can be to accept. For a bit, when I was first realizing I liked girls, I had such a hard time. I basically called myself “questioning” for long enough that I grew more comfortable with my attraction. If you’re not ready for a label or uncomfortable with one, just say you’re “questioning.”

“Try to stay positive and just know you’re beautiful inside and out.”

Another beautiful wholesome message here. I think this applies to both because it can be hard to see yourself as beautiful when there’s a lot of stigma and hate towards mental illnesses and the LGBT+ community in the world.

“Having a good support system, being able to talk to people about anything that was bothering me. I talked about...”

I’m not sure where this was headed, but it’s definitely good to find yourself a good supports system.

And that’s all of them! I’m so sorry, again, for taking so long. I meant to post this right after the symposium, but it took quite a while to respond to everyone’s notes. As always, contributions, asks, and messages are open, and I will respond!

#mentalhealthandlgbt #symposium #lgbt+ community #mental health

[glitchedbones-blog]

Not Human - Part Eight (Final)

Loki x Original Female Character

Warnings: Body horror, tooth rotting sweetness

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven

The two weirdos finally get their heart-to-heart, and it is as sickly sweet as it could be. 

    Alice’s room was a nice change from the rest of the Avenger’s, the rich earth tone a warming contrast to the cold white and chrome the haunted the rest of the compound. The miniature forest of potted plants that seemed to have taken over the room, leaving very few surfaces uncovered.

    Loki ran his finger along the leaf of a nearby plant, his fingers ghosting over one of the paper-like orange flowers.

    Alice cleared her throat and nodded her head to the plant. “That Alistair, he is a flowering maple. One of my favorites.”

    He glanced back at her, a brow arching. “You name your plants?”

    She made an indignant noise in the back of her throat. “Of course I name my plants,” she reached over and pulled Loki further into her room. “Helps them grow better.” Cheeks pink, she quickly snatched up a handful of tan blankets from a small, brown futon that was shoved in the corner of the room and dumped them unceremoniously on the floor. She motioned to the futon and gave a faltering smile. “Have a seat. Any chairs I may have had are now currently plant stands so the only seating I have is the futon.”

    Loki did, smoothing his hands down his legs to rest his hands on his knees. Alice sat down stiffly next to him and let out a quiet puff of breath. She kept her eyes downcast and picked at a hole in her pants, slowly pulling the threads apart with her razor claws.

    “I guess..,” she cleared her throat. “I guess we should finish last nights little conversation.” She let out a high pitched noise that was caught between a giggle and a full-blown laugh.

    Loki shook his head and shifted his gaze over to her, fingers curling against his knees. “Only if you wish to. I would understand if you would rather leave my question unanswered.” Loki’s gaze dropped and he pulled his hands into his lap. He shifted away slightly, giving her an out.

    Alice looked up at him, brows knitting together. She rubbed her face and let out a soft puff of breath. “That’s not it,” Alice angled herself to look fully at him and pursed her lips. “What we said we meant. Yes, we said it while blinded by rage, but that doesn’t really change that it is true.” Loki caught sight of her cheeks flushed before she dropped her head again, hiding behind a curtain of dull red hair.

    “I..,” Loki swallowed thickly, at a loss for words. “I will admit that anyone feeling anything positive towards me is surprising.” Alice peered up, brows scrunched together. “I believe that, before this,” he waved his hand between them, “continues, I need to explain a few things about myself.”

    Alice leaned back and gave him a gentle smile. “If it’s what you need to do, go for it. Anyway, it’s only fair.” Her smile turned wry. “I mean I did tell you my whole damn becoming an extra on the Thing so, ya know, only fair.”

    Loki stood, smoothing his hands down the front of his suit. He starting pacing, fiddling with his hands in silence. “You may or may not know that New York wasn’t my first attack on Earth.”

    Alice shifted, pulling her legs up on the futon. “Yeah, you were the cause of that town in New Mexico not really being a town anymore? That big...robot thing?”

    Loki gave a small nod. “Yes. I-...prior to my brother’s banishment I found out my true parentage and it doesn’t sit well with me, I lost myself as it were. I discovered my life had been a lie. I am not Asgardian, I am from Jotunheim and am a Frost Giant.” Loki glanced at Alice, a pained look crossing his face. She unfolded herself from the futon and stepped over to him. Her right hand hovered above his chest, hesitating only a moment before pressing down flat.

    Loki went still and looked down at her, only to be met with a half smile. “Not gonna lie, I have no idea what a Frost Giant is, so I have no real point of reference for why that is such a bad thing to find out.” She said, voice quiet.

    Loki let out a huff of laughter. “The Jotun were the monsters parents told their children about, a race of creatures that were feared for endless years, and suddenly I found that I was the spawn of one, their own king. I did not handle the revelation well.” He reached down and brushed his fingers along her cheek, just under the unblinking eye. “We are both monsters from children’s tales. When you said you were infected by the Endless Ocean I- I had- I had a small flicker of hope for once- that, that someone would be able to understand.”

    “Hey,” Alice whispered, “us monsters gotta stick together.”

    Loki gave her a tight smile. “Since my discovery, I have made many poor decisions. Many of these have had a lasting impact on the universe as a whole and I must live with what I have done, the deaths that I have caused- my own- my mother. I will never be capable of making amends for what I have done. It is why I had agreed to Doctor Strange’s plan in the first place. Thanos was, in part, my own fault and if I had died doing this, then perhaps I would have made some small redemption.”

    Alice gave his chest a pat and lifted her hands to cup his face. “You fucked up. We all do. I mean look at me! At least you didn’t basically eat half of your own family.” Loki’s eyes widened at that and she gave her head a small shake. “You just learn to live with it. If you don’t it will drive you absolutely, fucking crazy.” She grinned up at him. “Anyway, you aren’t alone in this. You have your brother, hell even some of the others Avengers would be willing to give you a chance. Bucky would. So would Steve. Steve has a heart of fucking gold, and I think, once he sees what and why these things happened, he may be there. And well, hey- You, uh, you got me.” She finished, voice fading to a hoarse whisper. Loki was still, face blank as he worked to process what she said. Alice pulled her hands away and started to step back to allow him space, allow him the time to work through her words. She got a half step away before Loki stopped her.

    Alice’s protest was cut short as Loki leaned down and stole his name from her lips. She fell into it, pressing herself against him as her eyes slide shut, her heart pounding in her ears. He pulled away, just barely, breath ghosting over her lips.

    “I apologize. I should have asked.” Loki said, hand splaying on her back.

    Alice cast him a dopey smile. “It’s fine...it was. yeah, no it was fine!” Her voice got higher, until she managed to squeak out the last part, another blush fighting it’s way up her cheeks. Loki pulled her into a hug, folding his long arms around her.

    Alice made a small noise and pressed her face into his chest. “So does this mean you uh..,” she cleared her throat, “Uh...fe-”

    “Yes,” Loki whispered into her hair.

    “Oh, good,” Alice said, voice going up in pitch. “If not that would have made this really, really awkward and I don’t have that kind of energy right now.”

    Loki gave a warm laugh and Alice revealed in the sound. “I suppose that would make things a bit less agreeable.” He rested his hands on her shoulders, thumb pressing lightly against the curve of her throat. He drew his brows down and frowned slightly. “This is not something I am familiar with...” He waved his hand in the air. “I have kept everyone at arm's length for much of my life. It seems I will have to work on changing that.”

    Alice reached up and gave his cheek a small pat. “Yeah I’m kinda garbage at the whole people thing as well or the whole being around people or being with people. I guess I am lucky that I haven’t had to wall myself off since, ya know, I can look kind of off-putting.” She poked his chest and grinned up at him. “You, on the other hand, are an absolute snack so you had to do the whole emotionally closing yourself off thing. Cause I know there had to of been people after you, and if there wasn’t Asgardians are insane or blind. Or both.”

    Loki blinked down at her, a look of confusion falling into place. “I-I  am a what now?”

    Alice blushed and buried her face in her hands, muffling the ‘oh god’ she groaned out. She looked back up at him, eyes sparkling. “Sorry, I forget you don’t know some of our old Earth slang. Basically, you are attractive to the point it should be illegal.” She glanced away, cheeks still flush and chewed on her claws.

    Loki ducked his head and let out a low chuckle. “Only this illusion of me I’m afraid.” He stepped back and let the illusion drop. Alice’s brows shot up and Loki looked away. “This is what I am. The monster.”

    Alice stepped towards him, laughing. “Loki, between the two of us, I’m the one with teeth and eyes where they really shouldn’t be.” She grabbed the edge of her shit and lifted it the show just the bottom of her ribs where a thin line of small teeth were starting to form. “Most of my wounds do this now.” She scrunched her nose and dropped the shirt. “So, let’s put it this way,” She grabbed the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to lean down. “We are freaks, there isn’t getting around it. But so is everyone else here, we just wear our freakiness on the outside.” She was a hairsbreadth from his lips and she peered up through her lashes, a small grin tugging at her lips. “So,” she whispered, breath warming over his cold lips. “Let’s be freaky together.”  

#loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #loki x ofc #glitchedfics #not humanfic

[voidwaren]

“Kiss?” someone inquired.

“Um,” the writer responded, after the words had been written. “I can explain.”

But she couldn’t. Not really.

(Only because this was already KINDA SORTA written … not really, I had 400 words and now it’s like 5000—canon to Warren is Strange THE SEQUEL [title in progress] slash Whale Song, but will definitely not stay totally canon. It’ll get somewhat rewritten to fit the context of the actual sequel once I get to that part of the story … whenever that is. Probably. Lord, if only I could explain the absolute mess that is my “Warren is Strange & etc” doc right now. I’m really sorry.)

ALL WARNINGS FROM PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS STILL APPLY. Meaning the same shit from the video games/Warren is Strange. Just to be safe.

The first time he kisses Nathan, it’s a rushed, bloody thing.

Nathan is both drunk and high on something Warren can’t identify and Warren is two seconds away from busting a nut in frustration over Nathan’s inability to put his own health first—a problem Warren recently found out to be reoccurring for longer than Warren’s been at Blackwell. (Even been in high school, apparently, which just sends all kinds of horrified realizations through his brain when he bothers thinking about it later.)

They’re arguing—brought on by Warren confronting Nathan about not taking his medicine after receiving some hearsay from an accomplished gossiper, which had only added to what he’d originally been suspecting—spitting words and building unanswered questions upon one another, and then one of them starts yelling.

Well, yelling louder. They’re already yelling to be heard over the music, because they’re at a Vortex Club party and it’s a Hot Mess ™ in the making, as per usual, because Nathan had not been answering Warren’s investigative texts and Warren had already maybe had one too many beers (meaning a singular beer—he was working on the lightweight stat of his vitals, okay, it was a work-in-progress) before engaging in a conversation he shouldn’t have taken part in, with someone he normally would have brushed off. Of course, the conversation had been about Nathan, because no one at this damn school could handle the fact that the new-blood nerd was hanging regularly with the rich bitch of Arcadia Bay, and certain people wanted a personal hand in its ruination. Consequently, Warren had gotten riled up.

So, by the time Nathan was emerging from his sacred VIP section, Warren was grinding his teeth to dust in frustration, the alcohol having fueled him until his buzz had all but fully burned away.

Left stewing from the conversation with not a single text asking about Nathan’s medicine answered, Warren approached Nathan immediately, and it all went to shit from there.

In the rush of everything, Warren won’t remember which of them it is that starts yelling first, nor will he remember the words that are said under the pounding thrum of the noise pouring from the speaker just above them, but Nathan is caught somewhere between a loose fury and a wired energy, and Warren knows he’s getting extremely pissed off at him, but he can’t seem to stop himself from pushing it too far.

Maybe he pushes because he’s so tired of Nathan not thinking of himself—despite the fact everyone around them claims the exact opposite of him, that he never thought of anyone else; despite the fact he lets them think that, even if it wasn’t true—or because he just wants Nathan to listen to him for once, because dammit he didn’t save his life for him to turn right around and ruin it the moment he stops looking.

Honestly, Warren can’t believe any of this is happening.

“You were almost arrested for murder, Nathan!” Warren spits, his hand splayed over Nathan’s shoulder to keep him from leaving, and, while he won’t remember all the words later, he’ll remember the hurt and the fury he had put behind them. “Murder! Jefferson was going to use that against you, and you willingly stopped it all on your own? What if I hadn’t known to tell you! If you hadn’t been taking your medicine when they—when they tested you—you could have—they could have—ACK!” Warren chokes, jostled by the sudden force of Nathan pushing him into the wall just behind them with the weight of his arm across Warren’s throat.

“Why the fuck do you think you have any authority to mouth off to me about shit you don’t even understand, Graham?” Nathan retorts, his breath hot and burning with the smell of alcohol. Warren tries to angle his face away, but it’s difficult when Nathan is so damn close. Nathan’s arm, thankfully, drops from where it’s barred against Warren to press instead on either side of him, but now he feels caged in. He can’t move his arms. He doesn’t like the feeling; it’s freaking him out. “You don’t know anything! You think living through a little bit of hell makes you some sort of life expert, huh? Some sort of motherfuckin’ deity of survival? Bitch, I got news for you, you don’t know shit about what it does to me. Any of it!”

“I know it keeps you safe!” Warren half-yelps, and Nathan goes silent, staring at him. The flashing lights around them distort any possible color that might be attributed to Nathan’s appearance, but Warren thinks he might have gone pale. Or green.

Or, really, any color on the rainbow spectrum. The lights were ridiculous. If the situation weren’t curdling something akin to catastrophe in Warren’s gut, he might have found the whole thing funny.

It’s at this point Warren can see the storm brewing right in Nathan’s pupils as they bore daggers into his own, but he’s too tightly-wound and his brain doesn’t connect with his mouth in time to call ceasefire, and he ends up saying words he knows he wouldn’t have said under other circumstances. Warren witnesses something snap in Nathan as he speaks, and then Nathan’s shoving himself up against Warren with venom pouring from his lips before Warren even really understands what it is he’s just done. Not a single word registers in his ears over the buzzing of panic that starts up, all he knows is that whatever Nathan’s saying to him is hurtful and cruel from the tone he uses to wield his verbal weapon, and, for once, Warren thinks he might actually deserve it.

“Cut it out, Nathan!” Warren finds himself yelling, hands flat against the wall that honestly might be fixing his poor posture at this point, he’s been crammed up against it so long. “Cut the fucking scare-tactic bullshit!”

“Scare-tactic bullshit?!” Nathan snarls, then laughs in a low, throaty way that Warren’s surprised he can even hear. It distracts him, just for a moment, from the rest of Nathan happening in front of him. “You want bullshit, Graham? I’ll give you bullshit—!”

Nathan raises a fist and gathers the fabric of Warren’s shirt in it, his mouth still pouring poison that doesn’t register in words, and Warren, furious and panicked and hurt for reasons beyond just whatever it is Nathan is saying to him, grabs the back of Nathan’s head and closes the gap under grounds he thinks might have to do with distracting Nathan from beating the shit out of him right then and there.

It’s not unlike the method Nathan had used against him once upon a time, but he’d added a twist he thought might actually work, because simply getting too close just wouldn’t cut it when Warren hadn’t managed to actually invoke fear in Nathan since the day he’d decided to save his ass from a certain psycho serial killer.

He’d seen it in a movie once or twice. It had worked pretty decently for the people who had tried it. When it didn’t, there hadn’t been any real violence attached to the rejection, just confusion and maybe anger. No one, at least from what Warren remembers, ended up with a bloody lip for their efforts. Then again, no one in the movies had been trying to use it on Nathan Prescott, so maybe this had been an outlier, and a bloody lip didn’t usually occur to those attempting the distraction.

It did, however, occur to Warren. Nathan hadn’t even given the kiss a chance; he’d clamped his teeth down right on Warren’s bottom lip and drawn blood, then shoved away from Warren and stalked back into the VIP section of the party, where Warren couldn’t follow. Warren was too busy smothering his pain and trying to find punctures in his lip to even bother attempting, the blood pouring down his chin to drip onto the tile he had fallen to, staining his shirt and pants along the way.

Well, the plan had technically worked. Nathan didn’t hit him, and he had left instead of continuing the argument. That really didn’t make Warren feel better in the moment, though.

“Shit,” he hisses to himself, wincing when it only pulls his lip, because fuck it hurts. This was the second time Nathan had given him a bloody lip (well, okay, theoretically the first time had been Warren’s doing, but it was as a reaction to Nathan, so it sort of counted), but holy hell, Warren’s pretty sure he could thread some hoops in the holes he was now sporting thanks to Nathan’s ministrations. Does he need stitches? Could you even get stitches for lip punctures? Was he going to have Nathan’s teeth imprints as scars on his fucking lip?

Jesus Christ. This is not what he signed up for.

Hand cupped beneath his chin to try and catch the dripping blood before it got everywhere, Warren stumbles to his feet and weaves around the mingling bodies of the oblivious party-goers in search of the bathroom, knocking shoulders with more than one on the way there. They completely ignore him, too busy in whatever they were doing when he ambled up and disrupted their personal space to break their stride and give him any attention.

He has to brush away both Stella and Hayden (because Hayden apparently talked to him now—it was weird) when he bumps into them, both of them asking what had happened before he can reach the intended destination, but, thank god, the bathroom still has toilet paper and paper towels in it when he gets there, so he’s able to staunch the bleeding somewhat before he makes a total murder scene of both his shirt and the floor of the bathroom. When he spits into the sink, there’s more blood than there is saliva, and his mouth looks like something from a B-horror movie when he opens it.

“Son of an Ewok,” Warren mumbles into the mirror he’s basically pressing his face against a moment later as he assesses the damage, the cool curved point of the sink making good friends with his hipbone in a somewhat painful way. He ignores the feeling in favor of getting as close to the mirror as physically possible, gingerly moving his lip this way and that against his teeth to try and tell if any were showing through the potential rips in his flesh. It takes him a good five minutes to determine the damage. His appearance alone scares off two people who attempt to wash their hands while he’s busy monopolizing one of the mirrors, but he kind of enjoys that.

Turns out Nathan didn’t actually puncture his lip, but you would have thought he did from the way the things wouldn’t stop bleeding. Was it normal for lips to bleed this much? Warren thinks he still might need stitches. How was he going to explain this to his parents? “Yeah, just kissed a guy so he wouldn’t smash my face in and it backfired in a way movies never prepared me for, no biggie. Just sew me up and send me on my way. Lesson learned, I promise. No more psychopath smooches.”

Yeah. That would totally work.

“Dude, who are you talking to?” Warren startles away from the mirror, his fist of bloody paper still hovering by his chin, and finds Trevor (was this guy everywhere?) staring at him in sudden yet mild alarm. Warren thanks the gods that Trevor’s a pothead, because panic was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now, and Trevor already looked a little green beneath his uneasy expression. “Whoa. What the hell did you in?”

“A shark,” Warren says bluntly, dabbing his lip again. Trevor’s alarm grows. Warren has to resist the urge to grab him by the shirt and ask him if his brain cells were really worth it. “Jesus, does it matter? I’m bleeding like a stuck pig, is this normal?”

“I don’t know,” Trevor responds, hands in the air and eyes firmly on Warren’s mouth. “Does it feel normal?”

Warren turns and stares at him, perplexed and a little dumbfounded at the question. “Feel normal? No! It fucking hurts!” How would he know what would feel normal, anyway? It’s not like he did this regularly. What kind of asswit question was—

Warren stops his train of thought with a jolt, blinking at himself in shock. What the hell?

He was too angry. Way too angry, and taking it out on someone who just wanted to know what was going on.

This wasn’t how he would have handled things before. This wasn’t the kind of person he was.

… Was it? Did Warren even know himself anymore?

Had he known himself in the first place?

“Man, I think you need to …” Trevor starts after watching Warren unconsciously sway against the line of sinks. He steps forward and grabs the hand holding the bloody paper, then guides it to Warren’s mouth and pushes with enough pressure to make it sting sharply. Blood swirls along the underside of Warren’s tongue.

“Ow!” he yelps, startled, then nearly chokes on the blood as it hits the back of his throat.

“Sorry,” Trevor mumbles, pulling away long enough to let Warren spit in the sink. The moment Warren’s done, though, he’s back again, and he doesn’t lessen on the pressure. Warren’s hand, the original bearer of the paper towel ball, stays in Trevor’s grip the entire time, and Warren’s too distracted to think about removing it. Trevor’s red-rimmed eyes stare holes into their combined grasp on the paper towel wad, but Warren thinks it’s in concentration, not because of the way his fingers were fitted right between the spaces of Warren’s as he held the paper firmly to Warren’s wounds, his (relatively) clean fingers a stark contrast to Warren’s bloody ones.

… Which Warren’s now staring at himself. Quickly, he flicks his eyes away from the mirror and settles for staring intently at the smeared red adorning the tiles below the sink instead, groaning at himself inwardly. He really needed to stop attending Ladies’ Night with the girls (who was he kidding, he attended all nights with the girls, Nathan was too picky about his tastes most of the time), because the romcoms were starting to get to him. Trevor? Really?

“Head wounds are a bitch,” Trevor continues slowly, oblivious to Warren’s inner turmoil and fairly rude repulsion. “Pretty sure you’re supposed to apply pressure to get these to stop.”

Warren … knew that. He knew that. He really did.

But he doesn’t mention that fact, and he doesn’t stop Trevor from holding his makeshift gauze to the wounds, because Warren had been the idiot in this situation, and sometimes it was just easier to let someone else take the reins. Instead, he slumps back against the sink and closes his eyes, fingers of his free hand curling around the cold porcelain to anchor himself in, and lets Trevor do the work.

The party outside is loud, and the music booming echoes into the spacious tiled area that constituted as what was technically the locker rooms, though only the bathroom area was accessible during parties. Probably in an attempt to prevent accidental pregnancies in the dark corners the area offered, but Warren thought that was pretty useless when most of the students lived on campus anyway and could just take it to their dorm rooms.

But, really, who was he to question the decisions made or the logic behind them? He’d just pulled a ridiculously reckless move and paid the price for it, he wasn’t exactly up for candidacy as the next Head of High Vulcan.

“I think it’s stopped,” Trevor says after a while, pulling the paper away for a final time. “Fuck, bro. That’s harsh,” he remarks. There’s a tinge of sympathy to his voice. Warren slides open tired eyes to see Trevor peering at his lip with his own mouth twisted in a grimace.

“Yeah,” Warren agrees wearily, wincing when his mouth continues to sting from the movement. “But it was a stupid thing I did. Kind of deserved it. Thanks for the help.”

Trevor shrugs, finally releasing Warren’s trapped hand. Warren tosses the saturated ball of paper into one of the trash cans, scowling at the drying blood still on his fingers. “You looked like you could use a buddy,” says Trevor. He turns away and starts washing his hands, watching Warren through the mirror in front of him. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Warren says. At least until I have to explain it to Max, and then Chloe, Warren adds on silently. He hadn’t thought of a perfect excuse just yet (the same one he’d used the last time he’d punctured his lip would probably be a good idea, though falling down the stairs was even better, if he could think of some remote stairs to blame), but Nathan was completely out of the cards without question. He knew what Chloe was capable of, even if he had never witnessed it, and he wouldn’t doubt Chloe would give Nathan hell if she ever found out he was involved. Knowing Nathan and how he tended to handle confrontation, it just wasn’t a good idea. He’d be asking for the start of a war by sic’ing those two against one another, and it wasn’t worth the battle.

“If you need any medical shit for that while it heals,” Trevor continues as he dries his hands, “I can hook you up. Dana’s wicked with a kit, she fixes me all the time. Skating, you know?”

Warren doesn’t, but he nods all the same. “Thanks, Trevor,” he says, and he means it. “Seriously. I appreciate it.”

Trevor salutes him as he heads towards the exit back into the pool area. “Just stay away from sharks, my man.”

Warren huffs a laugh at that, unsure if it could be followed, but it turns out Trevor’s advice isn’t needed. He doesn’t see Nathan again the rest of the night.

Warren understands, later, that this doesn’t really constitute as Nathan kissing him, but his mind catalogues it before he can think to right it, and he doesn’t bother going back on it. Mostly because it’s Nathan, and anything less than getting brutally bitten from engaging in mouth-to-mouth contact with him just wouldn’t seem logical. Warren only wishes he had thought of that fact before trying his distraction tactic. More because of the reactions the bandages he slaps on his lip brings, which get more and more annoying the more he has to deal with them, but also because Nathan refuses to speak to Warren from that night on, and it’s actually driving Warren a minor amount of nuts.

He’d sent Nathan a lot of texts that night the fight happened, and none had been answered, but the texts he sends the day that follows are also ignored, even after Warren outright asks Nathan if he’s okay. That really tugs on his persistence. Being the better man should have some reward!

But more texts are ignored as the days trickle on, and it’s to the point where Nathan refuses to even look at Warren when he sees him in the halls, using people like a remorseless Victoria and a sympathetic-yet-dutiful Hayden as shields whenever Warren gets near and acting like he can’t hear Warren calling his name. It’s so sudden a change that, for a moment, Warren even debates asking (begging) Victoria for help, because he doesn’t know what the hell to do when he can’t even get any response from Nathan and she knew him better than anyone Warren had access to.

Okay, yeah, maybe it had only been like three actual days since the fight, and maybe both Max and Chloe had basically said “good riddance” to Nathan’s sudden departure from contact after catching wind of a rumor—which had been started up by the few people that had actually witnessed the fight (thankfully, no one had seen Nathan almost bite Warren’s lip off, so his excuse of stairs and epic tripping was still pretty sound)—about Nathan turning on Warren, but Nathan’s friendship was something Warren thought he had achieved. He didn’t spend every waking moment with Nathan, sure, and Nathan got pissy more than half of the time they did hang out, causing him to blast Warren at full power, but ignoring him? For days? The fight had been a bad one, and both of them had clearly fucked up, but Warren was starting to feel more and more guilty the longer Nathan acted like their bonding hadn’t happened.

He just wanted to say he was sorry and have it accepted. Why was that so hard?

Four days would be Warren’s limit and, despite the fact it would be a Tuesday that night, Warren decides he’s going to camp out outside Nathan’s—and, well, his own, since he was right across the hall—room and make him talk to him.

That had to work, right?

Yeah, no. It really didn’t. But Warren tries anyway.

He knows Nathan has a Vortex Club meeting that night, so he’ll be getting back later than he would if he were just spending the rest of the day with Victoria. Warren uses this to his advantage—and by that, he pretty much just makes sure he’s seated on the floor right outside Nathan’s door about an hour after classes ended, because the meetings had varying lengths and Warren didn’t want to miss his chance. It’s once he’s been sitting there a good forty-five minutes that Warren realizes he probably should have asked Hayden for his number (manipulative, yes, but if Hayden wanted to be nice to Warren, then Warren was going to use that) so he could have some sort of indication of when the meeting would actually end, but now it was too late for that.

Despite the fact he had lived through a time loop that pretty much required a form of planning to get out of, Warren really wasn’t the best at planning things out in a way that benefitted him. Which, really, made too much sense in retrospect.

The first hour ticks by; Warren’s spent it texting Max, Brooke, and Chloe (in pure meme, an accidental challenge Warren had initiated and Chloe had taken up in full), and hunting through Reddit threads for old Lost conspiracy theories, because why not. Twice people have asked him what the hell he’s doing (Luke, who tells him to just forget Nathan, and some guy named Steve, who seems to find the whole thing amusing and wants a photo), but mostly people have just filtered in and out of their rooms and left Warren to sit alone in the hall.

The second hour brings immense boredom, a very numb ass, and, at the forty-one minute mark, the blessed form of Trevor. Again.

“Hey, Shark-bait!” Warren winces at the nickname, his wave stuttering with the movement before his hand falls to his side. Unceremoniously, Trevor drops to the floor beside Warren and fastens a grin onto him. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for Nathan.” Warren gestures to the door with a nod, just in case Trevor didn’t connect the dots.

Trevor’s grin droops. “Yo, heard that rumor. Dunno what you’d do to invoke that Prescott wrath though. Is it true?”

“The fight?” Warren shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Dude, is that why you were bleeding out in the bathroom? Holy shit! How did he get you like that?” Trevor asks, gesturing first to his own mouth with his thumb and then mimicking the gesture over Warren’s. “How do you even get something like those?”

“Are you asking me how I got these scars?” Warren says, smirking. Trevor looks blankly back at him.

“Uh, yeah, I guess. I wouldn’t really call them scars yet. They look like scabs.”

Warren sags back against the door with a groan of defeat. “I feel so underappreciated here.”

Trevor’s phone goes off, interrupting whatever he had been about to say, and his face lights up when he looks at the screen. “Gotta go, man,” he says, slapping Warren on the shoulder and standing up. “Dana’s out and we have a date. Don’t get in anymore fights, ‘kay?”

“I don’t know, I’ve got a taste for blood now, I don’t think you can hold something like me back,” Warren says sarcastically, ignoring the minor spike of panic that jabs him in the gut. If Dana was out, that means Nathan was, and he was probably going to be back any minute.

Trevor laughs. “Whatever you say, man. Later.”

And then he’s gone, and Warren’s left sitting on the floor outside the dorm room of the guy he’d willingly beaten up in timelines that he wasn’t living in anymore. Suddenly jittery with nerves, Warren pulls himself to his feet and turns to Nathan’s door and debates his options.

Which, honestly, was one of two: stay or go.

If he stayed, it could end badly. Nathan could get angry and start a fight—one Warren likely wouldn’t retaliate in, because Nathan was not the person he’d been those other times, and Warren was not going to hit someone he’d managed to become so close to, not over something so stupid as medicine. (Though, seriously, that was a talk that needed to happen, and Warren wonders why Nathan’s therapist hadn’t noticed. Unless they had? What was the protocol for something like that? No. Distractions—stop it Warren.)

If he stayed, Nathan could also just push him aside and abscond into his room, which would render this all null.

But if Warren left … what would that accomplish? It might be the safer option of the two, but if Warren really wanted to get Nathan back on his side and talking to him, running away was not the option.

Why did it seem like every time Nathan was involved, as an enemy or as a friend, Warren got sucked into engagement with him whether he liked it or not? What was he, a Nathan magnet?

Was that why he’d been the one to suffer through that loop?

Well, no. That wouldn’t have made sense, because Jefferson was the loop, not Nathan. Nathan had just been connected to Jefferson, and therefor been the easiest route to capturing Jefferson before he could kill the people he killed in the past loops.

… Right?

Why did that … suddenly not sound so right to Warren? That’s what he had been going on, and that’s what had made sense. Going on that logic was how he got out of that manifestation of actual Hell he’d been thrown into, that had to be right. So why did it suddenly just sound … not?

Why did Warren—

“If you don’t fucking move right fucking now, I’m going to decorate my door with your fucking teeth.”

Warren startles with a jolt, whipping to the side to find Nathan glaring daggers at him and looking like he’d keep to his promise if needed. Warren clutches the front of his shirt, willing his heartbeat not to puncture a hole in his chest, and anchors himself against Nathan’s door with the other hand to keep from outright collapsing.

“Nathan,” he wheezes.

Nathan’s eyes, formerly on Warren’s, flick towards Warren’s mouth and stick, widening from where they’re focused on what is undoubtedly Warren’s scabs. Surprisingly, all the blood seems to drain from Nathan’s face and, for a moment, Nathan looks utterly shocked. It’s wiped clean from his features not long after it arrives and Nathan returns to glaring, but the blood doesn’t return, and he looks shaken and far less aggressive than he had just a minute before.

“I’m sorry,” Warren says as soon as he’s sure Nathan’s not going to smash his face in. Nathan blinks, then scowls.

“Yeah, I got the damn memo,” Nathan spits. “Like thirty fucking times.”

“You won’t answer me!” Warren exclaims, holding his hands out. “Come on, Nathan,” Warren pushes when Nathan’s glare is deviated to the wall beside him. “I didn’t mean to do all that. I got worried and I heard shit and I started thinking about what could have happened if I hadn’t known and what if that messed it all up? What if that had been a key? Or what if it hadn’t meant anything but it could have convicted you or something and then it would have been on me because I’m the one who did this four fucking times so I should know—What?”

“I asked if I did that,” Nathan repeats just as quietly has he had the first time. Warren’s brain stutters away from his rant, but fails to comprehend what Nathan’s talking about until he lifts a finger and points at his own mouth.

“Oh,” Warren says dumbly. His thumb shoots up to self-consciously finger the scabs, his tongue automatically moving to press on the inside and look around for holes he already knew weren’t there. Nathan’s eyes watch unblinkingly. “Yeah. You’ve got some power in those chompers, dude. Did you know head wounds bleed a lot, even if it’s just your lip? The swelling is finally going down, but it was pretty funny to look at for a few days there. I would look horrible with lip injections.”

Nathan remains silent, his eyes still firmly on Warren’s mouth, and Warren drops his hand when he remembers he’s not supposed to mess with the scabs. The silence stretches, plainly uncomfortable, and Warren shifts on his feet the longer it goes, unsure if he should break it.

“Jesus fuck,” Nathan finally whispers, just as Warren’s about to break the silence himself. “I didn’t mean to do that. Did it hurt a lot?”

“Like a goddamn bitch,” Warren answers proudly. “Kind of upset you didn’t go straight through, I think I would look badass with some snake-bites.”

The face Nathan makes tells Warren he thinks otherwise. “You need to lose the pathetic virgin aesthetic first. It won’t work with metal.”

Warren stops himself mid-eye-roll, suddenly realizing they’d fallen back into their comfortable banter. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Warren asks tentatively.

Nathan looks away. “Fuckin’ looks like it, doesn’t it?”

Warren grins. “You’re forgiven too, then,” he says, then snickers when Nathan looks back at him with narrowed eyes. Warren takes a step to the side, freeing Nathan’s door to access once again. “Also?” he adds on while Nathan moves to unlock his door. “Learned my lesson. You were a shark in a past life, man.”

That gets Nathan to smirk. “And you were a gopher.”

“Sharks don’t eat gophers, Nathan!” Warren calls as Nathan’s door shuts in front of him, but it’s with a grin wide enough to pull on his scabs, but Warren ignores the feeling.

The first time Warren kisses Nathan, it’s a rushed, bloody thing that ends with a set of faint white scars that can only be seen when Warren smiles a little too broadly. Not an idea setting for a first kiss between people, but that’s okay. It just meant the second kiss couldn’t possibly go any worse.

… Second kiss?

Moral of the story: Don’t let me do kisses. They don’t go how I plan them to.

#asks #life is strange #warren is strange #nathan prescott #warren graham #drabble #I changed it bc I didn't like it stuck on an ask like that #it was bothering me #anyway #I forgot the other tags

[bang-exo-tan]

The Omega’s Secret

Warnings/Tags: None I don’t think, a lil angsty again but that’s about it

Chapter 4

          “What do you think you’re doing?” you heard a voice ask from the couch behind you. You turned from the front door and your eyes widened at what you saw.

          “Yomin,” you whispered as you scanned the room making sure that everyone else was asleep. Yomin was sitting on the far end of your couch, dressed in tight black jeans, a white button up blouse, and black and white oxford shoes. Her arms were folded across her body and if you didn’t know otherwise, you would expect lasers to be coming out of her eyes.

          “What are you doing, Miyeon?” she sternly repeated.

          “Do you know what’s happened?” you quietly asked her and she replied with a quick nod. You kept your voice low to make sure no one in your house woke up. “Everything?” you questioned and were again given a nod in response. “Okay then I don’t have to explain. I’m going to find help.”

          “You need to stay here,” Yomin quietly growled, you guessed she was trying to compel you – apparently something normal omegas succumbed to – but it wasn’t working.

          “I can’t. I’m going to go find help,” you repeated as you attempted to open the door but Yomin had jumped up and placed her hand on the door keeping it in place. “Let go Yomin.”

          “You need to stay here where it’s safe,” Yomin explained.

           “Safe for who?!” you said rather loudly but then you calmed yourself down. You didn’t hear anyone waking up so you continued. “Will it be safe for me Yomin?” you snapped as you glared at her. “For how long? Until you guys die off one by one trying to protect me? Until I see my dad, Amber, you, even my little brother lying motionless on the floor?! Do you expect me to sit back and do nothing?!”

          “Miyeon, that’s not gonna happen,” Yomin started, but you cut her off.

          “They hurt Jungkook!” you choked, you felt tears in your eyes as you tried to say what you were feeling in your heart. “My little brother got scratches and bruises all over him, when we’re not even connected by blood! I’m supposed to be protecting him Yomin! They didn’t even have to take me in when I was little. When the people who birthed me abandoned me… mom and dad were my saviors. But they didn’t ask for this! If they had just left me back in America… then they wouldn’t have to see their son hurt like this. Dad says he’s willing to die for me and I’m supposed to sit back and do nothing?!” By this point you were crying and you felt Yomin’s arm lift off the door and both of her arms came to wrap around your waist.

          “Okay. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said as she squeezed tighter, “What are you going to do?”

          “If I can make it past the territory border,” you explained as you pulled back and wiped the tears off your face. “Maybe I can find someone, alphas, anyone to help with Kang. I’ll find someone authority to bring Kang to justice for what he’s done. For what he’s trying to do.”

          “What if you can’t find that person,” Yomin asks.

          “Then… I’ll come back by myself,” you whispered.

          “And do what exactly?” Yomin whispered back asking for clarification.

          “Give up,” you blurted. “Let him have me.” She looked at you with wide eyes and continued, “I won’t see everyone hurt because of me. I’ll only have to deal with him for a little bit. He’s already old, he’ll die eventually.”

          “Miyeon…” she sighed and looked up at your determined face. “Fine. You’ll need this.” She said as she tossed a flesh colored wrap at you. “You’ll get jumped if they know you’re the quintessential thing. So wear this so it’s not as obvious.”

          “Where am I supposed to wear this?” you asked looking at the foreign object.

          “Wrap it around those,” she said pointing to your chest. “They’re a dead giveaway that you’re an omega.”

          “I need to hide being an omega?” you asked.

          “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “It’s just in case you do.”

          “Okay thanks,” you said as you tried to open the door but Yomin pushed it shut again.

          “They’re out there you know,” she informed, “How are you going to get past them? What’s the plan?”

          “Well since you’re here now,” you smirked as you reached in your bag. “Put these on,” you ordered as you threw the jacket you had packed at her. You grabbed the bottle you took from Dr. Yixing’s office and popped two suppressants in your mouth almost gagging as you had to swallow them without anything. You figured that if one suppressant would knock out your pheromones, two would kill the smell completely and make you normal, like a human.

          “This isn’t my style,” she said as she held your pink plaid jacket with fur around the hood between two fingers.

          “Everything else has been washed. But this hasn’t, it smells like ‘omega’,” you giggled as you dropped the suppressant bottle back in your bag along with the wrap, and tied it back up. “Put it on, go out the front and distract them.”

          “You’re sacrificing me?!” she complained even though she was still putting on the jacket.

          “No! I just need five minutes of distraction and then I will blast my pheromones to get them distracted so you can get back in the house. Besides,” you joked, “you’re the strongest alpha I know. Can’t you take care of yourself for five minutes?”

          With her ego slightly bruised, she scoffed and took her place at the front door. With her back turned and her hand on the doorknob, you wrapped your arms around her waist. “I love you Yomin.” you whispered as you felt your heart pang in your chest.

          “Ewwww,” she groaned, “you’re not my type!”

          “What is your type then,” you mocked.

          “Obedient,” she giggled, “and maintenance free.”

          “Whatever,” you chuckled. “Hold your breath, I’m gonna give you some more pheromones.”

          She took in a gasp of air as you forced some more pheromones on her so that she was oozing ‘omega’. When she finally breathed out, she pulled your hands from around her waist and opened the door. “Come back soon,” she ordered as she closed the door.

          “Now that one, I’ll obey,” you replied as you made your way to the back door.

          As you opened the back door you saw a man walking toward the front of the house toward Yomin. You glanced around you and when you saw there was no one left, you slowly walked through your backyard and climbed up the steep incline behind your house. A perk of living in the little house was that it was the closest house to the end of the territory border. After the incline, there was the forest that outlined the territory.

          As you made it past the first couple of trees, you could peer down the slope and see into your front yard where you saw your pink coat surrounded by what you assumed were men, so all you could tell that there were distinct dark figures around her. You quickly counted 9 men before you heard one of them speak. You were about half a mile up so the sound was very faint, but you could still understand what he was saying.

          “I’ve got her, let’s bring her to boss,” one cheered.

          “It smells like omega… but I don’t think it’s her,” another blurted while skeptically sniffing around Yomin.

          “Yeah, isn’t she supposed to be fat,” a third interrupted and came from the back pulling the hood off of Yomin’s head. “This one is too skinny.”

          “Let’s just take her anyways,” the second continued as he started pulling Yomin’s arm. “If it’s not the right one, it definitely knows where the right one is. We’ll just come back.”

          “Yeah, I’d like to rough up that little alpha one more time,” the third one said.

          With the threat to your little brother you felt a fire deep in your heart as you wafted your pheromones on full force and screamed at the top of your lungs, “Come and get me if you’re brave enough!”

          You slipped the rope attached to your canvas bag around your neck and shifted into your wolf form so you could run faster. As you turned around and started running you heard them yelling and shifting as well.

          “That’s her!” one screamed. “Get her!” ordered another.

          You paused for a second after you heard your name being called and when you listened hard you could hear your brother yelling that you were gone, and your father and mother running outside and calling your name. When you snapped out of your trance, you saw the wolves fast approaching you and you turned again and continued running.

          Rain started to pour which only made running that much more difficult. You felt the wolves fast approaching and felt familiar sting on your back.

          It must have opened up. You thought as the pain caused you to slow down. With the slower pace you could hear the wolves catching up to you fairly easily. You took deep breaths through your nose as you tried to focus on other things instead of the pain.

          You focused on the crunch of leaves, the sound of the dirt squishing between your paws, the sound of your mother crying and calling for you.

          “Miyeon! Come back,” you heard her call for you and you whined knowing that her calls would go unanswered.

          I can’t. I WON’T! I’m so sorry…

          You answered her internally even though you knew she couldn’t hear you. You were soaked by the rain which made your body all the more heavier to pull forward.

          I won’t sit back like the good little omega I’m supposed to be and watch you die for me.

          With your resolve set, you gathered all of your strength for the last push of energy.

          Just a mile to the border, just one mile till freedom.

          The chant echoed in your mind as you raced toward the territory border.

          Because of the rain, the ground was especially slick and you had to dig in your claws in to get a grip as you pushed off with every movement of your legs. The smell of moist, freshly kicked up dirt mixed with blood was heavy in your nose. You had a feeling that if you could make it across the border, you would come to hate this smell. 

          You could hear the breaking of sticks and growling coming closer as you began to see the large rocks that marked the edge of the territory.

          Please no! I'm almost there!

          You felt teeth on your neck as your claws began to lift of the ground. The rope attached to the bag that had been hanging around your neck tightened and you felt the air that was reaching to your lungs diminish by half.

          Tears were streaming down your face as you felt the hope fade from your body. You looked toward the territory border, the border you almost reached. You realized that you couldn't have been a quarter of a mile from it now. You tried to plead for mercy, plead for freedom, but the sting from the rope around your neck made words impossible. You looked again and memorized those stones.

          I was almost free-

          Your thoughts were interrupted as you felt wind blowing through your fur. You blinked a couple times through your tears as the border you had almost reached was getting closer with amazing speed. You turned your head as much as you could, which in turn caused the rope to tighten even more. You tried to glimpse the perpetrator who had grabbed you up, and out of the corner of your eye you saw fur as black as the night and one brown eye, before your world went into shadow.

          When you woke up you were startled to see two eyes staring into yours. You jumped back and – realizing that you were still in wolf form – tried to growl at the other, but your voice didn’t come out.

          “Jinsin, she doesn’t like me,” the owner of the eyes whined and as you tried to voice a growl but again, nothing.

          She had short brown hair cut off at the same length as her chin, and dark blue eyes that looked almost black. If you weren’t on the defensive, you probably would have noticed that by all societal terms of beauty, her face definitely fit the profile of beautiful. You followed the stranger’s eyes only to find another stranger a couple of feet away from you, with his hands in a river.

          “I found her running for her life. She’s probably scared to death,” the man replied. You stared at the man’s bare back trying to ascertain who you were dealing with. You noticed that his back was toned but not overly muscular, and it was the same with his arms as well. His skin was a gorgeous medium tan color and he had red colored hair with black tints to it.

          “Probably because you almost killed her Jinsin. What do you think she is?” The girl asked reaching her hand toward you. You didn’t know what she was intending so you pretended to bite her. Of course, you were aiming beside her hand because it seemed the two weren’t a threat, but you weren’t sure yet. “Ow!” she yelped reaching her hand back, “she bit me!”

         .I didn’t bite you, I bit the air beside your hand. You thought, though you knew no one could hear you.

          “Solbi, she didn’t bite you, she bit the air beside your hand,” the man explained. You looked at him confused and realized he was walking toward you and the one he called ‘Solbi’. “And you should ask her what her status is, not me!”

          You didn’t know if your mouth was wide open but it probably was, because the man who came to sit beside you had the kindest face you had ever seen on a person. His face was flawless but what was really important was his eyes. When you looked up at them, you felt warmth. Like no matter what, as long as you looked into those eyes you would be completely safe.

          “If she’s an omega, I call dibs,” Solbi said as she licked her lips and you tried not to act shocked and give yourself away.

          “No you do not Solbi,” the man said with stern eyes focused on the woman. “We do not call dibs on people! Besides, I don’t think she’s an omega. She would have a scent and they wouldn’t be chasing an omega. Omega’s are treasures, not something to be treated bad enough to have to run away.”

          “I’m sorry” he whispered as he came to sit down with his back to a tree that was beside you, “I didn’t know the bag was choking you.” He pulled your bag from behind his back and placed it beside you. “I was just trying to get you away from those jerks that were chasing you.”

          You looked at him suspiciously. You didn’t trust them yet, even if he had kind black eyes that felt like they could see straight through to your soul.

          “We didn’t look in it.” He explained obviously understanding that you didn’t trust him, “You don’t have to be afraid of us. That’s Solbi,” he said pointing to the woman who had made her way to the river. “And I’m Seokjin. We’ll protect you from now on, you’re safe now.”

          “Maybe, she should shift into human form so she can talk to us,” Solbi suggested.

          “Solbi’s right,” he said as he turned and pointed behind you, “there’s a big tree over there. You can change behind that.”

          You grabbed the bag in your mouth and headed for the tree. You were debating if these people were trustworthy or not, and if you should just run for it, but something in your heart told you that you couldn’t leave. So, you walked behind the tree and tried to shift, but you couldn’t. After a couple more tries, you noticed that the sun was starting to go down and you gave up your attempt. You crawled out from behind the tree, only to be met with a disappointed face from Solbi.

          “Jinsin, something’s wrong,” Solbi said as you walked back toward them.

          “Can’t shift?” Seokjin asked as he patted the ground beside where he was sitting. You took your place beside him and whined in response.

          You were startled by your response, Did I just whine?! What is wrong with me?! I must be sick…

          “You’re probably weak,” Seokjin said as he put his hand on your head, you shivered by the warmth along with the cold that was slowly growing by the lack of sunlight. You looked up as you felt the lack of warmth from his hand and followed his torso with your eyes as he walked behind the tree you had just come from. You wanted to wait to see what he was doing, but you were too weak from trying and failing to shift. A couple minutes later you felt a heaviness and warmth surround you, which caused you to fall deep into a sleep. 

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