#when will she just accept that we have different definitions of modesty and that i simply do not care that much about it!!!!

[kaladinkholins]

Thinking about the crazy love triangle situation in Blue Eye Samurai and debating heavily with myself on how I'd like to see it conclude. And yeah this discussion can be thought of purely as shipping, headcanons, and fandom fun. But when analysing the show and engaging with it in a more in-depth, almost-literary level, it's impossible to dismiss who Mizu's potential love interests are and how different endgame romances would affect her character arc and the overall story and themes.

So in this post I'd like to look at the love triangle a bit more closely, and speculate on where the story will take this.

DISCLAIMER: It is my personal interpretation of the text that Mizu is non-binary—I use this as an umbrella term denoting any gender that does not adhere to the binary restrictions, norms, and expectations of what it means to be either a man or woman in a particular society; it's not just an androgynous "third gender" that exclusively uses they/them pronouns. Thus, while I personally believe Mizu is not strictly a cis woman, she does still identify with womanhood, despite definitely feeling a level of detachment from it due to living as a man for so long. With that being said, I will be using she/her pronouns for Mizu in this post, but please note that this is purely personal preference. Everyone is free to interpret the text the way they like. That's the fun of fiction. Now, without further ado, let's proceed.

Okay so, thinking about the pairings on a purely surface level, and even before i got into the show, I was pinning my hopes on some lesbianism going on between Mizu and Akemi, and the show does hint at this; in Ep1, during their first encounter in Kyoto, there is the famous slow-mo shot of their eyes meeting, Mizu's lips slightly parted as she is unable to tear her gaze away from Akemi, while sweet string music plays in the background. This is clear romantic framing, and a marker of attraction. If Mizu was a cishet man, there would be no question that this is a potential love interest.

But then, in the same episode, we meet Taigen, who is introduced to us firstly from hearing Akemi's father describe him as "a fierce and undefeated young samurai", the "best swordsman in the best school" and "a fisherman's son from Kohama [...] whose rise reminds [him] of [his] own."

In the next scene, we meet him in person as Akemi's fiance, and he seems sweet enough. He even gives her sweets! In exchange, Akemi gives him gold, and he feels a bit ashamed that he doesn't have anything better to offer her. But Akemi accepts him and his gift wholeheartedly and flirts with him a little, which makes him smile kinda shyly.

When Akemi confirms their engagement, Taigen is in disbelief because he has no status or noble background, but Akemi reassures him.

So from these first few scenes, we're introduced to Taigen as an honourable and strong samurai, but also as a man who is sweet and gentle with the woman he is about to marry, as well as aware of his own inferiority when compared to Akemi's high station.

Our view of him then changes as his true self is revealed: he is an arrogant and smug bastard among his peers, but more importantly, he is the terrible bully from Mizu's childhood.

And it is this side of Taigen--pompous jerk and unrepentant xenophobic bully--that we continue to see as the show goes on, and it's safe to say that this is his real self, sans any pretense of humility and modesty. Around anyone who isn't an outright superior in terms of class and power (ie. Akemi's father, the shogun), Taigen never hesitates to assert his own authority and "greatness."

But as the show goes on, he gets caught by Heiji Shindo's men, and then tortured. And that's when we see, okay, turns out he's not that bad. He's honourable; "honour" is not just meaningless and superficial pedantry for him, but an internalised, guiding principle.

He was a cruel asshat throughout Mizu's childhood, but in a prejudiced and xenophobic society, he was just playing by the rules. As a child, he knew he was at the bottom of society, but when met with someone even lower ranked than him (Mizu), he can project all those prejudices and insecurities onto someone else. This way of thinking--"if you can't beat 'em, join em"--is what allowed him to climb up the ranks despite being some dirt poor kid from an abusive household*.

*Well, that combined with his cismale privilege of course, because this would not be an option for a woman in similar circumstances.

Thus, his upholding of honour also exemplifies how Taigen embodies the ideals and rules of his society. His insistence on duelling Mizu is another more blatant example of this. He doesn't want revenge like Mizu does. He wants to be accepted by society, within the bounds that society has placed, and that means that his only two options following his defeat at the Shindo dojo were to either chase Mizu down and get his damn duel, or kill himself for his humiliating defeat.

Now! Moving on from Taigen, let's go back to the other end of this little love triangle: Akemi.

Mizu and Akemi only properly meet in Ep4. During their first meeting, when Akemi tries to poison Mizu in Madame Kaji's brothel, she compliments Mizu's eyes, calling them "beautiful."

This seems to genuinely take mizu off-guard for a second before she coolly plays along. We know that Mizu recognises Akemi from the get-go, and thus sees through Akemi's ploy from a mile away. It's also safe to assume she'd expected false flattery, because Mizu understands full well that this tactic is how women get what they want: by using their 'feminine wiles' and playing up their naivety and innocence. But even so, it's interesting that Mizu actually seems surprised by Akemi's compliment.

Then, after Mizu subtly taunts Akemi by lying about Taigen's death, she and Akemi have a bit of a scuffle, and then we get to Mizu saying this:

"Women in our world don't have a single good option. Except you, like some magical forest creature. You could have anything you want, but then you beg to eat trash."

(no screenshot because it's quite a long line but you get it)

Here we see Mizu's opinions on the marginalisation of (mostly poor and under-privileged) women stated outright, and underlying her words is also resentment. Because even though she and Akemi have shared experiences of female oppression, Mizu, unlike Akemi, was also poor, from a rural village, and is a racial minority. Mizu is triply oppressed, while Akemi only faces one primary form of oppression, and to someone as embittered by the world as Mizu is, to see Akemi "beg to eat trash" is a slap in the face, practically tone-deaf to the other injustices around her--injustices which Akemi has not shown much, or any, acknowledgement for at this point.

Then, after this scene, Mizu kills Kinuyo, and this unsettles her to a degree we've never seen from her before. She is visibly distraught, and the entire sequence hammers the theme of this episode (and arguably, a large portion of the show) into our heads: women in this world suffer. And even though Mizu is well aware of this fact, to commit this act is so visceral that is shakes her to her core, and it's what ultimately leads to the ambush of the Thousand Fangs.

But before the ambush, Mizu and Akemi talk a little again, and during this time Akemi taunts Mizu some more.

Right now, Mizu is exhausted to the point where (I believe) she even downs some sake, despite not usually drinking. Thus, worn down, she cuts Akemi's ropes and tells her, "Just go." Akemi recovers from her initial fear of Mizu's blade and taunts her some more, accurately seeing through Mizu's facade of coldness, recognising the raw anger there, and says this:

"I thought you had to be something special. Your face isn't even so scary. You're just... angry."

At this, Mizu is amused and compares Akemi to Taigen ("I see why he likes you. You're just like Taigen when we were children. A fucking brat.")

The reveal that Mizu and Taigen knew each other in childhood surprises Akemi, but before either of them can say more, everything goes to shit.

That's when we get to Ep5. This episode focuses primarily on Mizu, the central piece of this love triangle, and does the most out of all the episodes to shed some light on her character and goals, fleshing her out to be more than just the vengeful, highly proficient samurai we've seen thus far (symbolised by The Ronin), but also a person who is capable of love, domesticity and gentleness (symbolised by The Bride). But in the end, Mizu rejects both these ideals, instead becoming an Onryo, who is neither guided by pride/honour, nor love.

By 'reincarnating' into an Onryo, Mizu is able to win the day and save the women in the brothel. However, as she has now fully embraced her status as an Onryo, and is exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally, she lets the Tokunobu clansmen take Akemi away while Akemi's screams echo in her ear.

Mizu says this choice is for Akemi's own good, that Akemi's better off; because Mizu is jaded and weary, and cannot afford the luxury of idealism, and thus must always be strictly practical and realistic. So of course that's why, in her view, yes, Akemi should not be wasting her time in a brothel where women are exploited and abused, nor should Akemi be so naive to think that her marriage with Taigen is even still possible. However, regardless of Mizu's views, it is not for her to decide, because though Akemi is privileged in some sense, she is still trapped and voiceless, and deserves the right to choose her own destiny.

But as it happens, in the end, though Akemi did not choose who she gets to marry, she DOES get to choose her next move when Edo burns down.

"I want to be great."

This one line is the key to her entire arc, which is only just beginning. We see she quickly has acquired the affection and good graces of the shogun's son after their wedding night and consummation, and with Madame Kaji and the girls now serving her, Akemi will only grow to become a prominent political player.

NOW, only after analysing the characters as they are within this season, only can we speculate how their arcs will continue as the show progresses.

First and foremost, I will reassert the popular opinion that Mizu and Akemi are foils. The climax (pun intended) of Ep7 illustrates this as it parallels the turning points in both Mizu's and Akemi's arcs:

Mizu melts the steel of all her loves and shames, the people she's collected: the broken blade wielded by both Chiaki and Taigen, Akemi's knife, Ringo's bell, Master Eiji's tongs - this symbolises her beginning to accept herself, and in doing so, also accepting the help of others;

Akemi consummates her marriage with Takayoshi Itoh, gains his affection, and cements her position as a woman in the shogun's palace - this symbolises her taking charge of her situation, no longer playing the damsel, but using her position to her advantage, empowering both herself and the underprivileged women around her.

These are thus two directly contrasting, diverging journeys:

Mizu's arc moves inward (yin). It is an internal path of self-love and self-discovery, focused on finding peace and tranquility inside herself, and this involves allowing herself to let others into her life, opening herself up to friendship and empathy once more.

Akemi's arc moves outward (yang), it is an external path of growth, transforming from a naive, caged princess to a powerful woman and a force to be reckoned with.

Akemi is always dressed in red, even her eyes are a bit of a reddish-brown rather than brown-black like most other characters, and in her penultimate scene she stands against a backdrop of flames. She is fire: quick-tempered, passionate, full of energy. Red is powerful, authoritative, and in eastern cultures, it is associated with prosperity.

Mizu is blue: her eyes, her sword, her clothes. She is also named after water; it's where she goes to recover, reflect and meditate. Water is fluid like a brook weaving around a stone in its path, always changing and adapting, it is graceful, it is beautiful and ruthless, tranquil yet swift.

Thus, in the future, I expect we will see plenty of political manoeuvring and intrigue in Akemi's plotline, where she fully embraces control of her life, and begins to take action to help others as well, realising that her own oppression is just one piece in a much larger picture. Her main conflict is with society.

In direct contrast, Mizu's main conflict is with herself. She must realise that her desire for vengeance is a projection of her own deep-rooted self-hatred. Her arc must move towards unpacking her feelings and trauma so she can be at peace with herself and allow space for love in her heart. Because as we saw in Ep5, Mizu had come extremely close to achieving peace and joy, as she had not only loved Mikio, but also had briefly believed that Mikio had loved her (and accepted her for who she is) as well.

Thus, assuming the story is not planned as a tragedy, Mizu will likely end up getting her vengeance, but it will not satisfy her, because it is not what she needs. What she needs is to let go of the Onryo within her and to reconcile both The Ronin and The Bride within herself, as she is both a fighter and a lover, but not a monster.

(Edit: I recommend checking out this post by @stylographic-blue-rhapsody for a much clearer analysis about Mizu'a symbolism as Ronin, Bride and Onryo!)

And now that we've mostly covered each of the characters individually, we can finally get to the main point of this post: the love triangle.

--

Let's talk about Option A: Akemi.

As I covered extensively earlier, Mizu and Akemi are foils, a yin-yang pair. But while they play off each other very well in a thematic sense, I personally believe that a serious romance between them will be more complicated if they become endgame. This is because Akemi's natural resolution is to embrace a position of power and influence, where she has both freedom and control over herself and to make much-needed changes in a prejudiced society. Meanwhile, Mizu's natural resolution is the opposite; her happy ending would to find a peaceful life where she is safe and free from prying eyes, and able to be her true self.

Thus, it would make very little sense for Akemi to forfeit power and run away with Mizu and start a humble life together. Akemi wants to be great, and that is absolutely what she deserves. On the other end of the spectrum, it would also make little sense for Mizu to dedicate her life in service of Akemi, such as acting as a bodyguard or something similar, because a life in a palace full of court intrigue and conspiracies is far from what Mizu needs to be happy.

With that being said, if Mizu/Akemi is endgame, and assuming their overarching character arcs do not shift directions, their love story would likely be either tragic, doomed, or bittersweet. I do absolutely love this type of story because personally I'm a sucker for catharsis, so it would be very interesting if the writers do decide to take this route.

Also, as a note, please do not take this as me dunking on this pairing. This is just my personal opinion and analysis and I completely understand if you disagree!

--

Then, of course, we have Option B: Taigen.

Between Akemi and Mizu, Taigen is a bit of a free-floater here, because Season 1 leaves off at a point where his arc is very ambiguous as to where it's headed. While Akemi climbs for greatness and Mizu goes on a journey across the ocean to (presumably) discover more about her heritage, we have little clues about where Taigen is headed. And if I'm being honest, I'm sure he has no idea either! He still hasn't reclaimed his honour, so he would be unable to rejoin the Shindo Dojo; he's been rejected by Akemi; and while he showed loyalty to the shogun, the shogun is now dead, and all the shogun's men who had witnessed his "humiliating" death were left to die by Lady Itoh, who is now pulling the strings within the palace.

Therefore, Taigen has very few options here.

And when considering his role in the story is as Mizu's begrudging ally, his arc will undoubtedly be focused on unlearning his xenophobia and misogyny, the latter of which we have not seen yet, but is surely present. Now, whether he will do this in Mizu's presence or absence will be unknown until we see Season 2. Following the Season 1 finale, he might return to Kohama and wait for Mizu there as he learns humility and remorse over his past cruelty; or maybe he will follow Mizu to London, and the two of them will continue to butt heads until he finally admits to himself that he cares for Mizu more than he would like to admit. There is no room for doubt that his growing feelings for Mizu are more-than-platonic, because we all saw him get turned on by sparring with her in Ep7 lol. Thus, regardless of the exact choice he makes, I am sure that his overall arc will be focused on redeeming his character.

Now, when it comes go redeeming him, I know there are many who simply don't want him redeemed because he was such a jerk to Mizu, and while yes I agree he was awful, I do believe there is also nuance to his character.

Previously I've discussed in great detail the colour and elemental symbolism with Mizu and Akemi, but have yet to touch on how they relate to Taigen. So, let's talk about that for a second.

While Akemi is red and Mizu is blue, Taigen is green.

Green is a complementary colour to Akemi's red. Complementary colours are directly opposite each other in the colour wheel; when mixed, they neutralise each other, but when put side-by-side, they form a pleasing and impactful contrast that boosts the brightness and prominence of both colours. This mirrors Taigen and Akemi's relationship. They are an "ideal" pair because they complement each other very well, and bring out each other's most prominent traits. Mizu's comment about their similar "brattiness" comes to mind here.

Green is also an analogous colour with Mizu's blue. These colours are sitting right next to each other on the colour wheel; their natural similarity makes it easy for them to form a cohesive overall appearance, but using both in equal amounts will make a design overwhelming and too busy. Thus, the best way to use analogous colours is to make one the dominant colour, while the other will serve as an accent. I feel this also speaks to the dynamic in Taigen and Mizu's relationship. They came from the space place, both from nothing; they're both strong fighters who love the sport, and work well together when fighting side-by-side; however, they butt heads too easily, mirroring how analogous colours can be too overwhelming when used in equal amounts. Thus, to work together in harmony, one has to be the dominant colour, while the other serves as the accent. In this case, the dominant force would be Mizu, as she is the protagonist of the story, while the accent would be Taigen.

By fulfilling this role as an "accent" to Mizu, Taigen's character would easily be slotted in as a the love interest. This is in contrast with a Mizu/Akemi relationship, whereby Akemi is Mizu's foil before she is Mizu's love interest. This is because, by being a love interest, a character usually takes a backseat in the story, serving the plot and the themes by playing a purely supportive role, and this is not possible in Akemi's case because her character exists to parallel and contrast Mizu (red and blue), and not to support her.

It is possible to serve as a supporting love interest in Taigen's case however. And this is because he, unlike the other characters, does not currently have a definitive place within the story. He initially served the plot as an antagonistic force, but now as he is slowly unlearning his prejudices and becoming a better person, he can no longer serve the story by acting purely as a rival.

Instead, he will serve the story by literally supporting Mizu. And this relates to Taigen being earth, which is steady, firm and reliable, unwavering in loyalty and principles, hardworking and rooted in stability, which is seen in Taigen's staunch and inflexible obedience to the traditions and rules of society. These traits are what make him a perfect samurai, but not a good man. However, unlike most people in their world, Taigen is still capable of change and redemption, which is why Mizu says that he has the potential to be great. Not great by way of power or glory, but great in character. Already, he is honourable to a fault, and does not betray Mizu even after she technically robbed him of everything he was striving towards. And when he was shot by an arrow in the chasm, he did not hesitate a second to tell Mizu to use him as a human shield and save herself.

The trigger for his redemption is Mizu. If she had never beat him in that duel, Taigen would live on to become a man like Akemi's father. Cruel, power-hungry, controlling, conservative. But through Mizu, Taigen's sharp edges are ground down, much like water that wears down the stones in a river.

Where Mizu and Akemi's possible love story would be a clash of wills, full of passion and even heartbreak, a possible love story between Mizu and Taigen would be the wearing down of souls. Mizu would make Taigen a better person, and in turn Taigen would dedicate his full respect and support to Mizu as his equal, thus getting her to slowly open up and love herself. Already, Taigen has grown enough to admit (begrudgingly, and in his own Taigen way) that Mizu is better than him; though, clearly, he still has a long way to go, as he still calls Mizu a demon shortly after that.

But basically, Taigen is a very simple man (his main goal now is "to be happy"), and Mizu has great depths that he cannot yet fathom. For this love story to work, it has to begin with Taigen changing for the better. If he succeeds in that, and is able to accept Mizu for all her complexities, I believe that they will make a formidable pair. And though he'd likely still throw a jab or snarky remark at Mizu every now and then, I think he'd come tl wholeheartedly admire Mizu as a brilliant swordsman and a kind soul. Thus, should things work out and this be endgame, Taigen would be able to provide Mizu with what Mikio could not: an idyllic life that is not built on a lie, but mutual trust, respect, admiration, and equality.

Or hey, maybe they could both make their own dojo together! I don't know.

(Edit: This post by @rinandsketches does a great job at delving into Taigen's character and a potential Mizu/Taigen relationship if you'd like to read more about this angle!)

--

Now, as I move on from Taigen, there are a couple more options on how to resolve this love triangle and that includes Option C: Ringo.

In this option, Mizu does not have an endgame romance with either Akemi or Taigen. In this route, she finds peace and love through friendship, solidarity, and a found family between herself, Ringo and Master Eiji—a bunch of outcasts in society who make a strong trifecta of sword-makers.

Also, as an aside while I'm talking about Ringo, I'd like to point out that I believe his element is air and his colour is a neutral grey; he is talkative, easy-going, wise, curious, light on his feet (stealthy) and free-spirited, which are all traits linked to air, and traits that complement Mizu nicely, as he is capable of getting Mizu to open up and trust others again, while Mizu helps him reach his true potential for greatness.

--

And finally, there's Option D: Polyamory.

This is basically an "all of the above" option, in which everyone wins and it's a super duper happy ending. It would also be awesome to get some polyamorous representation, and seeing the dynamic between Akemi/Mizu/Taigen play out would be very entertaining and refreshing. So, you never know, this just might be the true endgame!

--

AAAAND with that, I close my extremely long analysis of what is essentially Mizu's love life. Whatever the final outcome of this love triangle though, I just hope it will be well-written and satisfying to all the characters' respective arcs. (Also I just want Mizu to be HAPPY goddamn it because she deserves the world and her coochie eaten out)

Now, I highly doubt anyone will read any of this (especially not until the end!) but that's fine. I just have so many thoughts and feelings about this show and I just needed to get this out of my system lol! But if by some miracle you did read this far, I wholeheartedly welcome any sharing of thoughts and ideas because man am I obsessed with this show! But of course, if we have an opposing opinions, please be respectful when letting me know; I am very open to friendly discussions.

#blue eye samurai #mizu x taigen #mizu x akemi #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x akemi x taigen #blue eye samurai meta #also if you ask me PERSONALLY. based on my own analysis which you can read above. personally i'm placing my bets on option b (mizutaigen) #and this is simply bcs i think mizu deserves nice things and that includes getting dicked down and pampered and worshipped #whoops who said that #also mizu deserves to live a life where she can hand taigen's ass to him on a daily basis. ykwim. #BUT i am def open to a change of opinion regarding the mizuakemi rship as the story progresses #i just dont want the writers to reduce akemi into nothing but a love interest for mizu #the only way i can see a happy mizuakemi endgame scenario is if blue eye samurai becomes purely an angsty romance story #in which case then yes i fully endorse the akemi ending <3 #but that would probs require a whole genre overhaul? bcs currently the show is firstly an action-epic where the romance is just a subplot #but even tho i dont reeeeally want a mizuakemi endgame i still DEF want mizu & akemi to be romantically and/or sexually involved plsss <3 #like they cant have that slow-mo shot between the two of them as their first encounter and NOT DO ANYTHING W IT!!! #also i want mizu to be at LEAST a little sapphic plsplspls #shut up haydar #meta dissertations.pdf #haydar's fandom posts #i wrote this whole thing while delirious and covid positive

[cto10121]

Finished watching that long-ass but well-done Contrapoints video on Twilight and it wasn’t clownish!!! It was literate!!! For once!!! Still, I have des Notes(tm):

Not sophisticated people like Contrapoints mixing up movie and book canon willy-nilly. 😑 Some of her analysis and argument, then, is greatly weakened by this, especially when she mentions Bella’s nightmare in Breaking Dawn (very different film vs. movie). Make it clear which one you’re talking about, sis!!!

By that token, her claim that the Port Angeles scene and the James fight in the ballet studio are examples of disavowal is not held up by the books. The would-be rapists are not described in any way, much less erotically; the focus is on Edward’s rescue and his fury. James is not even described as typically beautiful, actually average, and his framing is that of a typical villain

Re: Disavowal theory, Contrapoints misses the fact that Bella is a parentified teen of working class parents. There is even an in-canon explanation re: Midnight Sun as to why she doesn’t like birthdays (spoiler: her mother just dngaf). So Bella’s distaste for attention and parties and money is not an affectation or maidenly disavowal. It is a character weakness stemming from neglect. Her character arc is to accept her worth and to move away from disavowal and play-acting modesty, embracing her true self

She greatly undersells how much Twilight subverts typical gender roles and conventions. It’s Bella who wants vampirism, Bella who wants sex from Edward, Bella who comes up with plans and solutions, Bella who saved Edward. It’s Bella whose mind can’t be penetrated or manipulated, who develops an interest in motorcycles and loves her truck. Vampire Bella may be fully realized in her autonomy both physically and socially, but Human Bella did well with what she could do and worked hard to reach her goals (vampirism, sex with Edward). She was only physically weak.

Twilight also subverts the B&B/predator-prey dynamic just as much as it eroticizes it. Bella and Edward personality-wise are much more alike than different (there is definitely several shades of Romeo and Juliet there), so their physical inequality ends up being yet another obstacle to their romance rather than an inherent part of their dynamic. A big chunk of the reason why Bella wants to be a vampire so badly is because she knows it’s the only way to truly be with Edward, that this man-of-steel-woman-of-tissue situation cannot continue. The end of series sees Bella and Edward as explicit equals

Also, also, from the way the vampires are written in Twilight, becoming a vampire can be interpreted as very much an escape from patriarchal life. No need to cook or clean, male vampires can’t get you pregnant, and even if a male vampire threatens you, you have your own power to fend them off. Sex-based discrimination is impossible in the vampiric world. Only individual cases of misogyny can exist. So there’s that

For that token, there were and are hundreds of romance novels and erotica that do—or try to do—the same thing as Twilight. Before Twilight there was the Vampire Diaries and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And yet, while highly popular, none of these were as great a phenomenon as Twilight. Unfortunately, Contrapoints doesn’t really delve into what makes Twilight different from the world of romance and erotica, only why it was a success

A+ meta on how romance novels work. It’s a little no duh, but she explains it so well and eloquently

The toxic radfem/political lesbianism theory section explains the pearl-clutching around Twilight and Fifty Shades and misunderstandings about Twilight but did we really need a whole section on toxic radfem theory???? Otoh, I agree that bad intellectual ideas are super entertaining

Pamela discourse!!! Yeah, I learned all about that in my Development of the Novel course, it’s all good ☕️. But I disagree slightly with Contrapoints in that Twilight is not following that tradition. Bella does have virtue and purity signifiers; in many ways she falls under the Beautiful Maiden(tm) trope. But once again, Meyer gives it a twist in that Bella is portrayed as a modern agnostic girl who wants Edward’s D—preferably without marriage. And the narrative essentially cheers her on. Pamela would never

That Kristen Stewart interview where she says she didn’t feel like she was playing a character made me die inside and wonder if she has read the books. Contrapoints implicitly agreeing with her that Bella is a placeholder character made me die inside and wonder if she has truly read the books

Not Contrapoints actually agreeing with St. Augustine, that African-intellectual-turned-religious-dumbass 😑 Yeah, no, I do not agree that lust is inherently perverted. For one thing, what is “perversion” and what is “normal”? Spoiler alert: It basically all comes down to cultural and religious bias. It’s true that the sex act involves crossing boundaries and penetration of some form, but that in and of itself not inherently violent. You can hurt yourself exercising; doesn’t mean it’s something horribly violent!!! So yeah, there’s my fuck-St-Augustine rant for the day

#twilight #twilight meta #much food for thought #but at least contrapoints understands romance #and she makes tons of good points #contrapoints

[onlineproblems]

ok not to be a mommy issues bitch but i was working on my story that i've been trying to write for like 3 years. and thinking about my mom. and wondering why i feel so much angrier at my mom than my dad, though they both wronged me. in different ways which arent really comparable but neither one more or less than the other.

my dad was distant and never praised me, always had criticism, higher standards for me to meet, and rarely told me he loved me, was the disciplinarian parent who wasn't involved in parenting unless it was to punish us. he's very different now that we're adults and i think he's realized that he won't have a relationship with his kids if he keeps acting that way, because he texts me often to tell me how much he appreciates and loves me. and although he knows i'm a godless atheist liberal, and he always tries to work god bullshit into the conversation, he basically still accepts me.

meanwhile my mom would always talk to me growing up -- about whatever, her frustrations with my dad, emotional stuff, our interests, religion, etc. we didn't get super deep because even when i was a christian i didn't share much with my family, but i was closer with my mom than my dad. i thought of her as more open-minded than my dad, but suddenly it was like a turn-around happened (or i just became more aware) and she was suddenly spouting low-key alt-right anti-vax, homophobic, end times bullshit and it kind of sucker-punched me to hear it from her. if i ever thought i could come out to her, i was quickly disillusioned. she said something like 'god would cause gay people to die sooner so that they wouldn't keep sinning' and i just had no response. she got her counseling license this year; she's a marriage and family therapist. fuck.

she's divorcing my dad which i think is a good thing; their marriage was not happy. he was basically incapable of expressing his emotions and he didn't mistreat her but he definitely didn't treat her right. he has decades of unprocessed trauma and he can't stop watching porn. i discovered it on the family computer when i was 10 years old. he tried to commit suicide five years ago. he locks up his computer and tells his whole church about it for 'accountability' and punishes himself but he can't stop. i don't know what the fuck went wrong with him. my mom won't tell me what happened to him but she's implied that he might have been molested or had something similar happen as a kid. i don't fucking know. how they've been married for 30 years i have no idea.

i have compassion for them both but i hate they way their bullshit has affected me and my brothers. my dad's inability to cope prevented him from taking care of us. my special needs brother went without the care he needed because my dad wouldn't leave his work in rural africa, because he was afraid of living in the us and feeling inadequate. he was an expert in his field there, but in america he was just another guy. i was depressed and suicidal and untreated and my mom probably was too but her ideology didn't allow her to disagree with her husband, so we stayed. and i hate her for that. for never challenging him, for just bending to his will when we all needed help. when my brother needed medical care that wasn't available where we lived.

i feel stunted, my emotional development so behind where i could be if i was allowed to interact with my peers during my formative years, because of my parents. our house had a yard with 8-foot walls around it and i never left there except to go to church. i had to cover my body for 'modesty.' i hated my body. i had an eating disorder. i was afraid of other people. i couldn't make friends. without going into detail, there were times i felt exposed to predatory men when i should have been protected by my parents.

and like....my dad should have taken responsibility, he should have woken the fuck up and cared for us instead of being in his own head all the time. i feel like i should be angrier at him and hate him more. why is my hatred more for my mom? is it because we were closer, so the betrayal feels deeper? is it because he's making a real effort now, actually putting work in to change the behaviors that harmed me, while my mom seems to have no awareness that she caused harm? i mean, she blames everything on my dad and doesn't really take any responsibility. i started cutting in college and she lamented to me last year that she ''really wanted to move back to be with me" but my dad didn't want to come and "she didn't know what cutting was". her excuse was she had never heard of cutting, and her husband said no.

she's had so many missed opportunities to care for and support me. i've been open with her about what i believe in, what i want to do, how i've changed, and her responses seem perfunctory, while my dad actually seems to take an interest in me even if he disagrees with most of my beliefs. i guess i feel like it's more important to me that he's actually trying now even if i don't think he'll ever really change. the effort is what matters to me. i don't think my mom is interested in trying -- it doesn't feel like she is. but i don't know. it just feel wrong to hate her so much more than him. it seems disproportionate.

i've spent time in therapy for most of these experiences so i'm not horribly affected by them anymore, and being an adult and having distance from my parents means it doesn't cause the agony it did when i was a teenager, but as they're divorcing this year it is bringing this sense of 'choosing sides' a bit closer. so a lot of memories are coming back up. in 2021 i spent like 4-5 months processing ptsd from my childhood and now i feel a little residual angst from it.

i'm a functional adult, and i'm pretty happy day-to-day. i know everyone has their own issues and traumas that inform their lives that we just don't see, nobody has it all together, and i try to keep that in mind and be merciful to myself when i feel like i should be...idk better at life. it's pointless to think about what-ifs and i don't, really, but i am pretty bitter and angry about how my parents could have spared me a lot of pain when i was young and had little control over the way my life went. i never want to have kids, for a lot of reasons, but i can't imagine giving birth to a child and not being intentional about the way you care for them, knowing that it's inevitable you'll fuck up, but wanting to be as informed as possible and giving them the best you possibly can because they're basically helpless. you can't be selfish when you're a parent. if you have a kid simply because that's what you're supposed to do, what the fuck are you doing? that's a person. i look at the children i know, or at my younger siblings, and i can't imagine not sacrificing my desires to care for them. abstractly, i don't like kids and i feel awkward around them, but jesus christ. your own child? especially if you chose to have that child? you're just going to sit back and let them suffer, because you don't want to be uncomfortable? don't have a kid if you can't handle it.

sometimes i wonder if i'll ever be normal enough to feel safe by myself, after my experiences with predators that my parents didn't protect me from. if i can leave my house alone and not feel a little bit of panic under the surface. i'm hopeful since i've made progress over the years, but it comes in waves -- grows and fades. i wonder if i'll stop automatically going on the defensive when certain subjects come up. if i'll stop having nightmares about being sent to hell and my mom telling me she was right all along. i wonder if i'll ever be able to feel normal about having a disagreement with someone i care about, without feeling like i'm sinning, like i need to be punished or i need to absolve myself because i'm so used to emotional abuse and neglect from my parents and church and 'god' that it informs my interactions with friends and especially my spouse. creeps in when i'm vulnerable and makes me act horrible when i want to be well-adjusted and healthy.

this be the verse, eh? they fuck you up. they really really do. and this really got away from me but god i just had such an outpouring of thoughts. it was cathartic. and i can't journal so it all goes to tumblr lmao.

#therapy time :) #this is really heavy and talks about suicide and eating disorders and what amounts to emotional abuse and neglect basically #so uh don't read unless you're just really interested in my fucked up life lol #it's also super long and i can't imagine that it would be interesting to anyone else lmfao #amceled

[starshipsofstarlord]

Sheer | Kai Parker

Warnings; SMUT, ANGST, and FLUFF, mentions of death, mourning, loss, mentions of murder, trauma, swearing, unprotected sex,

A/N; sorta made up a whole storyline for this imagine, may be a teeny bit different and may have gotten a little carried away, please enjoy loves

It would not uphold, the weather held a grudge against you as you trudged through the pouring rain, cursing you for thinking that you would be safe on your lonesome.

Instead of a monster, the world wished for you to drown in its falling rivers, making you shiver down to the bone. It was too cold, but you had to go there, it was a ritual.

Since the death of your boyfriend, Aaron, who was killed by Damon, someone you thought to be a friend, you felt broken.

You had tried everything to bring him back, but without the power of a witch, it was deemed impossible, and Bonnie refused to help you, claiming that it was necromancy, and far from her beliefs.

It angered you, how everybody would dismiss the lost lives that Damon took. He got a free pass, he didn’t even regret his own invalid actions.

He was a monster, and you hated him. If you couldn’t bring Aaron back, then you would instead kill his murderer. That would not only give you a sense of revenge, but also make the world a safer place. There would be one less vampire making people’s lives a misery.

“Hi there.” You stopped in your tracks, the voice sending shivers down your spine. Whilst it sounded like a man, in reality it could be anything.

The skin of a human was a disguise the majority of the time, a bloodsucker or a wolf coping inside the exterior, thirsting to break free from the walls of bones and flesh.

“Kai.” He was not exactly human, he was a witch, the one thing that you needed. You had met him through Elena, who was luckily also angered by Damon’s actions, Aaron had been her friend.

And just like that, he had died. But she hid her feelings well, pretending all was fine because she was in love with the gruelling monster that you wished to execute.

However, even though you wanted to bring back your lost beloved, the time that had passed made your mind being up the idea of moving on.

The first person that sprung into your imagination was Kai Parker, the new sociopath in town. He was new, unaware of the traumatising past experience that lingered in your heart, and not to mention, his specimen was one of beauty.

Those grey eyes, ever so curious could bore straight into your soul, and you’d gladly let him mangle it, you no longer had a use for it anyway.

“Why are you out here y/n/n?” He asked with a tilt of his head that had your heart beating profusely.

Everyone knew of his effect on you, but they told you to dismiss it. It was cruel, that they’d rather have you mourning the loss of your partner than to move on with another.

To you, it didn’t matter if he were supposed to be the enemy, you no longer wanted to fight their battles. All you desired was to be in love, with somebody that felt the same.

And whilst you doubted that Kai knew how to feel such a strong emotion, some attention wasn’t the worst thing in the world. As a matter of fact, it worked well as a distraction, it made you almost forget the grudge that you held against the eldest Salvatore.

Almost.

“It’s nothing.” You whisked the direction of the conversation away from your deceased boyfriend, not wanting to talk about him to anyone, let alone Malachai Parker.

Even thinking of Aaron caused a void to open in the middle of your chest, it was unbelievably painful. You thought some people, such as Bonnie would understand, rather than think the loss as a regular occurrence.

To put it simply, the entire ordeal was completely fucked up, and you felt much more guilty for biting your lip at the expression that Kai pulled; his eyebrows raised, and his fingers carefully running down the side of his own jaw.

Oh god, his fingers. There were so many things that you could imagine him doing with those, and from the way he waved them on a greeting, he knew that he teased the thought too.

“Basically...” he began, rolling his grey eyes with what he liked to call modesty, and you classified as boredom, “you’re stuck out in the rain, and if I’m not mistaken, you live halfway across town.”

“Stalker much?” You sneered, crossing your arms across your chest, which only made his gaze wander down, and hold their movements for a dragged out moment. “What are you looking at?” You exasperatedly sighed, only understanding when you followed his peering.

He was focused on your chest, that through your white shirt, appeared almost bare. The lace of your bra was giving him a clear frontal, and so you adjusted your arms, so that they covered more and whatever they had pushed up to peak his intrigue.

“Why am I not surprised?” Shaking your wet hair, which was pointless considering that it was still raining, you realised that you felt the creeping of the cold.

You had been oblivious to it, thinking that it was a side guest to your tears, almost a consequence. But you were no longer tearful, mostly angry at the killer that ruined your future and acted as though it were no big deal.

“I thought you were supposed to be at college.” Kai quirked his brow, proud of the fact that he knew that. However you shook your head, and watched as he removed his jacket, clasping it around your shoulders, shielding you somewhat from the weather.

It appeared as no big deal to him, but it was to you, sociopaths weren’t famous for being kind and charitable. They always had agendas, their agendas, well they were obviously sociopathic.

But from the glazing of the witch’s eyes, you only saw a lost man. He was misinterpreted by all that he knew, they treated him like an outsider, alienated him as though he were a monster, and validly that was why he was seen as one.

“No.” You whispered, confused as to why you were so complied to correct the man. “My boyfriend was killed, I don’t want to go back there, it’s clear why.”

You attempted to give him a small smile, but it came out as a pained grimace. Just the thought had your mood drained, even more so since there was no route to resurrect him.

“Oh yeah, I heard about that.” He didn’t shiver in the rain, instead he seemed comfortable simply standing there, conversing with you in the rainfall. “Damon did it, right?”

Licking your lips, you hesitantly nodded, ashamed of the fact that you had once called the vampire a friend. From the start, you were always wary of him, but eventually you managed to become close to him. And then he ruined your chance of happiness, literally sucking the life out of it.

“What a dick.” Kai was blunt with his annotation, but you couldn’t deny that he was right about them. “Sorry for your loss and all that blah blah. We should get somewhere warm though, you can tell me more.”

It was a strange feeling, you felt pulled to the male, it was as though he was one side of a magnet, and you were another. And so you accepted his invitation, and followed him, breathing in the scent of his black coat. It was much sweeter than you had expected.

🏹

His so called home was an apartment, that you no doubt expected he had convinced someone with his magic to give him rent free. Or he killed them, either or you guessed.

But the thought of death itself was one that you weren’t too keen on thinking about, not now. Instead, you’d rather enjoy the company of someone that didn’t shame you for hating and desiring to kill the one and only Damon Salvatore.

Most of your friends didn’t take you seriously, they just barked laughter, not believing, nor willing to think that you could ever commit such a sentence. But they didn’t share your pain, if they did, you were sure that they’d understand.

Matt got it, he resented the vampire and a lot of the other blood suckers too. And your certainly couldn’t blame him, he had lost his sister, and there was no reason behind her change. It had all just been a game, a gruesome one at that.

Kai lightly removed his jacket from your shoulders, hanging it on a hook to dry. He almost appeared embarrassed, having you in such a private space.

But you didn’t want him to endure such a mindset as that. Instead you smiled, brushing your damp hair out of your face, grasping his hands. They were cold, and that made you frown. No one ever cared what he had gone through, instead they just wanted to rid the world of him.

Even his family had dismissed him, all because he had been different, and treating him as such had definitely had a mind mingling affect on him. It repented an unstoppable rage inside of him, one that ended in dead children and imprisonment.

“Thankyou.” The small example of affection had Kai tilt his head awkwardly and pull his hands away from your own. He wasn’t used to people even being polite towards him, let alone openly sharing contact with him.

You should have been scared of him. Or at least somewhat repulsed, but you weren’t, and it was a first for him. Most around him taunted him with blame, or pointed out his obvious flaws.

And so he ducked his chin downwards into his chest, taking a couple of steps back, mumbling something about retrieving you a dry shirt.

As you waited for him, you peeled off the sheer layer, dropping the ball of wet material upon the ground. Your bra had soaked into your skin, but you left that on out of modesty.

When Kai returned, his mouth gaped open, eyes widening at the half undressed sight of you. But he tried to avert your gaze, blushing at your lack of attire.

“It’s okay.” You jested to him , reaching out for the clean shirt that he had brought for you. “You can look, it’s not like I’m naked.”

“Yet.” He smirked as he allowed his stare to freely roam. His voice had been small, but you had heard it as clear as day. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be thinking like that, you’re in mourning and I get that you wouldn’t want to, yknow.”

His hand gestured between the pair of you , prompting what he was talking about. But maybe he was wrong, after all, it had been a while since you had any physical intimacy, and you’d be a fool to deny that there was chemistry between you and a particular witch.

“Don’t be sorry.” You put the dry shirt aside, walking closer to the brunette. “I am in mourning, but I’m going to get my revenge, and a distraction sure wouldn’t hurt.”

“And here I thought that you were just a pretty face.” Kai’s hand drifted to the side of your face, pulling you closer so that your lips were almost brushing. His breath ghosted over your own intermingling the fumes of lust and intrigue. “But it seems that there is a darkness in that mind of yours, I’m impressed with your plans to say the least.”

“I haven’t even told you any of them yet.” Your hand drifted under the band of his jeans, plucking teasingly at the denim, licking your teeth as you made strong eye contact with him.

“Tell me after.” He ordered, grasping your hips, and clashing your bodies together. Your lips worked hungrily against each other, both pairs of your hands grabbing all that they could, you and him both desperate to hold onto anything.

Kai shoved you backward into a table, trapping you against it as his lips fell downwards, and began to suck at your neck.

But at that contact, you pushed Kai away, freezing for a moment. Damon’s teeth had been on Aaron’s neck, sinking in and draining all that be worth.

“See Elena thinks I’m a monster, and she’s right.” You were unable to move as Aaron stood against the vampire, you had been compelled, and you wanted nothing more than to scream out for Damon to stop, but there was no audio in your throat.

There was no scream as Damon bared his fangs , nor when he sunk them into your boyfriend’s neck, instead you were holding back your tears, as you had been commanded to.

He held him to his mouth for a moment before dropping his body lifeless upon the ground. And you couldn’t help but stare at the sight.

Enzo wore a content smirk, and it sickened you to your stomach. Damon turned, his thirsty eyes boring into your form, that wanted nothing more than to crumble into a million people.

“You may now speak.” His pupils found yours, engaging with your soul, that felt broken and completely shattered.

“Are you going to kill me too?” A part of you was hopeful that he would, but as he came closer, you recognised the mischief in his stance.

He had plans for you, none of which you suspected to like. “Do it, show Elena how much of a monster you really are!”

If he killed you, you’d have liked to think that Elena would be furious , but it was expected that eventually she would forgive him when he put his humanity back on.

“Or instead...” you feared his humoured expression, eyes flickering between his feet that were walking closer to you and your dead partner that lay lifelessly a couple of meters away. “I could show her how much of a monster you are.”

He bit into his wrist, bringing it towards your mouth, and as much as you felt the urge to squirm, you could do nothing more but stand there and abide his compulsion.

“Are you okay?” Kai asked, brushing his nose against your own, wanting to know if you wanted to continue. He knew that you were a victim of trauma, and he understood it’s affects.

In regards to his past, his coping method had been inflicting it in return. But you had done no foul against him, and so he would not torture you or force you into something that you had no intention of continuing.

“Yeah.” You breathed, blinking to push the memory away, temporarily at least. “Bedroom.” You ushered, squealing distractedly as he hoisted you into his arms, wrapping your legs perfectly around his waist.

He dropped you upon the mattress, hovering over you, removing his shirt after you began to tug on the dark and rain pelted material.

Leaning your elbows, you unclipped the back of your bra, discarding it somewhere far from your memory, and Kai sunk down, his lips latching onto your nipple, playing with the other in his rough hands.

“Your fucking gorgeous.” He hummed around your breast, his fingers drifting down your stomach to the band of your leggings.

His compliment made you smile, and as he ripped off your pants, he slipped a hand inside of your panties, rubbing your sensitive flesh. But you groaned, frowning at his tantalising actions.

“Just need you inside of me.” You told him, and he was more than happy to comply, so he worked on his belt, as you slipped off your own underwear, and removed the torn fabric from around your legs.

When you looked up, you noticed that he was completely bare, and already had himself in hand. There was precum balancing on his tip and at the sight you licked your lips.

“You ready?” He asked bringing his head down to your chin, placing a delicate kiss upon the bump, and teasing his other tip against your opening, swiping through your wetness and using it to lube himself up.

“God yes.” You sighed, your hands finding refuge upon the back of his shoulders, your nails sinking into his firm skin.

And so, with consent, he pushed in, groaning at the initial tightness. “And I thought that it was wet outside.” He laughed, causing you to snort, he was funnier than you had expected him to be.

It almost made you swoon, but no, you couldn’t be interested in Kai, could you? Everyone thought you had been, even Bonnie had stated that you often undressed him with your eyes in the worst of situations, but it had never been a big deal to you.

And then it hit you like a ton of bricks, with a snap of Kai’s hips. All along you had denied any interest of another man, all because of the one that you had lost. And everyone already knew that there were sparks between you and the witch, before either of you had caught on.

“Shit.” He huffed, reaching down and biting your lips, causing your eyes to flutter sensuously, and dark veins to appear underneath.

At the feeling, you tried to bury your face sidewards into the pillow so that he couldn’t see, but he held you still as he gave shallow thrusts inside of you.

“Don’t look away, I think you’re beautiful.” Him saying that alone had you almost in tears. Despite trying to bring Aaron back you feared what he would think of you when he returned, or well, if he could.

Would he think you a monster, that stood idly by when he was killed? Because if so, you’re heart would literally break, and you wouldn’t be able to bare living any longer.

Living, funny. You hardly described what you were doing as such anyways. But currently, you did truly feel alive again, perhaps that was just the affect of having a dick inside of you.

But as Kai reached down and fiddled with your clit, you knew that you were done for. Your head fell back, eyes closed and mouth open, showcasing your fangs, your orgasm hitting you like a train.

He continued his movements until he felt he was nearing his point, and then he finished too, having no worry in impregnating you as you were well, to put it lightly , dead.

Both of you panted as he pulled out and fell beside you. Your eyes stared at the ceiling, your concentration eventually broken when Kai spoke.

“Damon did it, didn’t he? He turned you.” Your face had returned to its previous disguise, you looked human once more. But it was no secret that you were now a savage, a monster like Damon.

“Yeah.” You bit your lip, trying not to cry at the thought. It was the last thing in the world that you ever wanted, but Damon knew that too. And so he had cursed you, for all of eternity.

“Then he deserves to die.” Kai stated, he was already against the Salvatores, but his hatred for them had just increased.

#kai parker smut #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #kai parker x you #kai parker #kai x y/n #kai imagine #kai x you #kai parker one shot #kai smut #tvdreader #tvd imagines #tvd smut #tvd x reader #tvd x y/n #imagines #imagine #xreader

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (12)

word count; 8943

summary; you and newt are called to another unusual call.

notes; this is the first half (technically) of a mini sub-plot. the end comes in the next part.

warnings; violence, gun use, description of injury, slight gore, intentional harm, attempted murder, reference to drowning.

“I feel disgusting.” You mumbled, water still dripping from your arms as you stood, shaking yourself odd a little and groaning at the chill that was beginning to sweep in. The lights on the firetruck were flashing, equipment still being loaded back up, and Newt was standing on the other side of the ambulance, a water bottle Minho had given him sitting in his hand as he took another large sip, gargling the water loudly and frothing it around his mouth before spitting it out onto the concrete and grimacing.

“I think I swallowed, like, half the lake.”

You felt bad for him, you really did, and you tried to peel the wet material of the shirt away from yourself. Unbuttoning it slowly, you frowned, wet hair plastered to the back of your neck in the ponytail you wore, and Newt choked on his drink, laughing loudly and spitting up water again. He patted at his chest, turning away from you, his cheeks going red as he tries to hack up water that had gone down the wrong pipe, and you patted his back, startled at his sudden reaction.

His eyes were watering when he recovered, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “You know, if I was straight, I’d be very flattered.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your nipples.” He beamed, and your brows furrowed, before you glanced down, noting the hardened peaks from the cold, showing clearly through your tank that had gone clear enough in its pale grey colour to show off the plain design of your bra, and you scoffed. “Truly, it’s an honour, but it’s doing nothing for me.”

“Oh, no, whatever will I do now?” You mused, voice flat of any emotions, and he only laughed again, peeling off his shirt, and ringing it out, goosebumps rising along pale skin as the chill of the air washed over his skin. The lake was clear now, a group of kids who had stupidly enough decided it would be a good idea to jump off the edge of the dock before realising the wall was too tall and slippery with algae to get out, beginnings of hypothermia and ingestions of dirty water before anybody had wandered past close enough to hear them calling for help.

Sometimes, you really hated teenagers.

“Think if we’re fast enough, we can get back to the house before the firefighters? First dibs on the showers with the best water pressure, and guaranteed hot water.”

His eyes twinkled a little as he lifted a still damp but no longer sodden shirt back onto his shoulders, grimy and covered in green and brown stains from the water, no bothering to button it back up. “I take that as a challenge, and I accept.”

You climbed in through the back of the van, pulling open the bottom drawer and finding the plastic seat coverings, chucking one of the sheet packages to Newt for his own chair, before he slammed the doors with you in the back, and rounded to the driver’s side. Smoothing the plastic over your chair to make sure it was covered, your shoes squelched a little as you collapsed down into it. Newt did the same, and the second the keys were twisted into the lock once he was shuffling uncomfortably on the plastic, you were flicking the heating on to the highest temperature you could get it.

The downside of working in a van filled with drugs and medicine? The heat didn’t get very high in order to keep what needed to be refrigerated at the temperature is was required to be at. His eyes checked the mirrors as he reversed, noting the firetruck that was beginning to back out, the Squad truck leaving first, Gally and Fry still milling around to talk to the cops, and so you and Squad had a head start.

It would seem that they had the same idea, because Minho had a positively dangerous look in her eyes as she pulled up towards the entrance alongside you both, and Newt smirked, hand on the gearstick as he switched gears and pressed his foot down on the pedal. He surged forwards, the van moving faster than the trucks due to their added weight, a delay in its start-up, and the pair of you shot across the uneven gravelly path towards the main highway.

The red truck wasn’t far behind, and yet you were laughing a little at the determined look on your partners face, what had been a modest challenge was now becoming a battle between yourselves and the Squad team. You had the edge, being a lightweight vehicle, easy navigation and more speed, but they had the edge, the big red truck was more noticeable to other driver’s and they tended to move out of the way more for firetrucks than they did for ambulances.

As you met the junction for the highway, Newt flicked on the indicators and swerved onto the highway in a gap between cars that was too small to be considered safe. The move left you pressed into the side door of the ambo’, turning to look at him as his eyes stayed fixed on the road, a smirk on his face as the red truck was left in the dust, having to wait much longer to be able to pull out.

“Alright, Vin Diesel, settle down.”

“You want a hot shower to get clean? Or do you want lukewarm water with weak pressure that takes hours to get you clean?” You considered it, knowing that the more the showers were used, the weaker the water pressure got and the colder they ran as the hot water was distributed out, and you weighed out the pros and cons. You gave in with a reluctant sigh, watching Newt weave between cars, and he let out a triumphant noise. “Exactly. So, be a good co-driver, and play something exciting.”

“This is an ambulance, Newt. We have the classical jazz station, the news station, the emergency radio, or static and silence.”

“Sing something.” He offered, and you laughed loudly. “Maybe just yell exciting things at the top of your voice like it’s a James Bond movie. You can be my Bond woman.”

“Exciting things? You mean like ‘Quick, Newt, watch out for the rock slide’ or ‘Oh my God, Newt, he’s shooting at us’?” He hummed, rolling his lips together a little, and looking into the mirror where the red van wasn’t all that far behind anymore. “Oh, okay, I got it. How about ‘Quick! Newt! The bomb that will destroy world peace and the alien trade federation is about to go off, hurry so you can disarm it and save the galaxy!”

“That’s the one!” He shouted back, laughter taking up the cabin between you both as he picked up a little more speed, growling under his breath as distant wailing took place. “Did they just turn the fucking sirens on?”

“That’s illegal! A crime! Disqualified!”

Only a moment later, the truck was passing you by, Thomas lounging in the front seat with a smirk on his face, not even bothering to look at the two of you as he held up his middle finger, feet popped up on the dashboard, before they were pulling ahead, and you gaped at it.

“He flipped us off!”

“He did what?” Newt sounded like he had been told that Thomas had run over his dog, before his face was growing stormy, and he peeled off towards one of the exits, and you sat up a little more in your seat.

“Newt, this isn’t our exit, why are we slowing down? This is war now!”

“We’re taking a shortcut! I think.”

You pouted, watching as he pulled off onto the quieter roads, already resigning yourself to the loss. The van moved slower, not by much and certainly still considered fast for these roads, and you didn’t recognise the area you were driving through until you were almost at the house, coming at it from a completely different angle. It was a side that the trucks would be unaware of, the roads on this side of the house too narrow for the trucks to navigate on, but an ambulance could definitely weave and dodge along them.

You were expecting the grey garage to already be stained with bright and shiny flashes of colour, but as you approached it, the bay was still empty, and you gasped.

Unclipping your seatbelt before the vehicle had even rolled to a halt, and as soon as it was in park, haphazardly and slightly wonky within the designated space but still inside the lines, and Newt was ripping the keys from the ignition. You didn’t even bother peeling away the plastic overs, both hopping down from the van, doors slamming, uncomfortable runs in wet shoes from the vehicle to the changing rooms, the door practically bounding from the wall with the urgency that you forced it open.

Your fingers were trembling with both the cold and the adrenaline as you opened your locker, grabbing for the towel and washbag that sat on the middle shelf, slamming the metal canister shut a second behind Newt, and on the other side of the room, you heard a shower curtain swipe open, before the water spray was coming on.

Kicking off your shoes onto the white tile, your socks were ridden with water, and you stopped into the basin, flimsy curtain closing behind you. Switching on the water, you didn’t care about clothes getting wet as they were all drenched regardless. The water was hot and strong, pouring down over you as you let out a breath in relief, sighing out at the feeling, and stripping the partially unbuttons shirt the rest of the way down.

Dropping it to the floor outside, your vest followed, bra dropping by your feet for modesty, not all too thrilled about the idea of the entire team seeing your underwear. One fireman was plenty enough. Your trousers came next, panties following your bra, and socks lastly, before you were freeing your hair from its bobble and scrubbing dirt from the tendrils. The water was murky as it pooled around your feet, and you grinned through the suds as you heard the locker room door open up.

“Nice of you guys to finally join us!”

Newt laughed at your words, and you scowled at the taste of shampoo that got in your mouth, eyes squeezed closed tightly, but you couldn't hold back your laughter at the several complaints that burst out.

The shower next to yours clicked into gear, a slight dip in the flow of water as it adjusted, and it was steadily growing weaker as the firemen all changed and climbed into a shower, but you had already shampooed, only some soap and conditioner to go.  

“How the fuck did you guys beat us here?”

“We played by the rules, Bren! Flicking on sirens, that was cheating.” You tutted, the girl scoffing from the cubicle beside you.

“Uh, playing it smart isn’t cheating!” She retaliated, and you scrubbed a bar of exfoliating soap over your skin, the extra shrub helping to rid you of the feeling of grunge from the lake away from your flesh. “But seriously, how the hell did you beat us here with so much time?”

“Newt knew a short cut, apparently.” She made a vague sound of agreement, the boys all chatting loudly from the other side of the room, and the build-up of steam was beginning to give you a headache. Running some conditioner through your hair and combing the knots out quickly, you finished up, switching off the water and finding your towel, hand fumbling outside of the stall for the material, before you were finding it, and wrapping it around your body. Wringing out your hair, you pushed back the shower curtain and stepped free.

Newt was at the lockers, pulling a shirt over his head, almost fully dressed, the plastic washing basket from the corner was sitting outside him, water pooling through the cracks to the floor as his clothes dripped, and you scooped up your own, dropping them in with his and flashing him a grateful smile as he all but nodded in a promise to load them into the washer.

His fluffy hair was almost dry already, messy and sticking up from his towel, and you envied how quickly he could get ready again. How quickly all men could get dressed, really.

Taking your kit over to the sink, you fastened your towel a little tighter around yourself again to make sure it would stay tight, before wiping a patch in the steamed-up glass to see your reflection. Running a collection of moisturisers and serums over your cheeks, keeping it at it’s best despite the smoky and dirty conundrums you found yourself in on a day to day basis, you rehydrated and cleansed your skin, before moving on to your hair.

Heading to your locker to get a new set of clothes, you lifted the catch open, the door swinging as you gathered belongings, checking you had everything for a new uniform in your back-up bag, before placing it down on the bench. As you closed it, you jumped, a body leaning on the metal on the other side, and a mumbled curse fell from your lips at the shock. Reaching up to clutch at the edge of your towel and ensure it didn’t fall, you glared at the laughing attacker.

“You fucking suck. Why are you scaring me when I’m in a towel? Dumbass.”

“Oh, ouch. Cranky today, huh?” Thomas teased, reaching out a finger to poke at your stomach through the towel, and you jumped, slapping his hand away as he chuckled more.

“I’m cranky when I’m in a towel, and risking flashing the entire team because you wanna’ startle me!” He smirked, eyes scanning over your body particularly slowly, as if to make a point, and you rolled your eyes, despite the heat forming on your face. Adjusting your towel again, he watched your fingers move, and you kicked at his shin, watching him hop around in his towel at the aggression.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You know what that was for!” You held your fingers up, pointing them from your chest to your eyes, and he got a wicked grin once again as he clocked onto what you were saying. “Go away so I can get dressed in peace!”

“So now you don’t want me around? That’s not how you felt a couple of weeks ago.” You glared at him again, crossing your arms and stomping your foot a little, knowing what he was referring to, and he hadn't been any less affectionate since. At the action, though, he gave in, hands held up in a surrender and his laughter following him all the way around to his locker on the other side, leaving you alone.

Members of the team were still wandering around, and so you tried to be as quick but as discreet as you possibly could, tugging your panties and trousers up under your towel. Your spare shoes were uncomfortable and tight, barely worn in as opposed to your regular ones, and you were cold as you put on the clothes that had been chilling in the metal canister, bag ready to be taken home to refill.

Rubbing your towel across your hair to dry it out better, you left it as it was, towel folding in the bag to be taken home, and you placed it all back inside. Adjusting your fresh uniform to sit a little more comfortably on your body, your fingers smoothed along the collar and flattened it down, before sweeping still damp locks away from your clothes.

The men were all filtering from the room, a faster turn around as they dried, all carrying dirty and sodden uniforms to the laundry room to try and get them sorted, hoping to find themselves with one less task to do when they go home, and not wanting to stink up their cars with the foul smell that came with the water from the dock by trailing the wet garments home.

The dull buzzing of the only hairdryer the fire station had was already in use by Brenda, shorter hair looking a little crazy as she only had her fingers to come through instead of her usual styling brush, and she was scowling at her reflection in the mirror as her hair curved up in the wrong directions at the edges, bangs looking untamed. She glared at your snickering as you approached, finger flipping over the switch to turn it off, clearly deeming the effort good enough, and she stuck her tongue out at you and handed it over, letting you start it up to reduce some of the water trapped in your own hair as she tried desperately to do something to control it a little better.

“Why don’t you just comb it all back?”

“And look like a starring member from ‘Grease’? Want me to start singing ‘Go Grease Lightning’ on the top of one of the fire trucks, huh?” She was so over-dramatic, and yet you loved that about her, shaking your head and smirking a little as she continued to struggle. You weren’t all that bothered about getting it completely dry, just enough that you wouldn’t catch a chill from it. You didn’t really feel like facing the next few weeks with a sore throat and a blocked nose.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that I’m pretty sure I have a curled brush in my bag?”

She paused her work, arms crossing over her chest, hip leaning on the porcelain of the sink, and you could feel her burning glare on you as you continued to keep your one hair tame just with the use of the machine and your fingers. “You’ve had a blow-dry brush this whole time and you let me suffer?”

“Uh, first off, it’s not a blow-dry brush. It’s just a round brush. Make do. Secondly, you make it sound like I had food and you’ve not eaten for three days.”

“Same thing.” She hissed, playfully through it all, and she didn’t wait for permission, before she was meandering to your locker over hers and letting herself in, beginning to dig through the items in there to find the brush. She let out a triumphant little noise, and as she all but skipped back across the room, you decided you were close enough to dry, shaking your head to tame fly-aways and handing her the dryer back. You turned, walking away from her, and she let out a sound of complaint. “You’re just gonna’ leave me in here, alone?”

“It’s the changing rooms, not a back-alley at a nightclub at 3am.”

“What if I get lonely?” She pouted, turning the heat up and power down, the whirring going quieter so neither of you had to shout quite as loudly to one another, and you shrugged, backing away from her a little more, and smirking.

“Talk to your reflection. I’m going to make a snack.”

She huffed, but smiled, turning back to her plans, and you were the only one to what your soft chuckle as you left, the chill out in the corridor being shocking as you stepped from the steam-filled room to the breeze-filled hall to the main bay, shuddering as goosebumps rose over your arms, and you crossed them across your chest to keep your heat in.

Thomas was standing at the entrance of the laundry room, a basket full of wet clothes, nose turned up a little as Newt and Jeff loaded the machines, and you didn’t envy them at all. The doors to the common room were sealed shut tightly, presumably to keep in the warmth, because Fry had turned on both of the space heaters, and the room was already warming up to being hot. The smell of garlic bread was filling the room, some kind of cheesy pasta following it, and Fry was already singing loudly to the song playing over the radio, almost drawing out the television as Gally watched a movie that was so old it was in black and white, but he wasn’t paying attention, rather, he was texting on his phone and enjoying the background noise.

Minho was sitting beside him much the same, fingers moving swiftly over the screen, and Clint was chewing on a pen at the table as he filled out the puzzles in one of the newspapers from last week's stack.

“What’cha making, Fry?”

“Chicken and mushroom pasta, you want some?” Your face screwed up, shaking your head, and he laughed. “Let me guess, you don’t like mushrooms?”

“They’re gross and slimy. No offence to your pasta.”

“They’re delicious, and healthy.” He corrected, and you grunted, opening the fridge, and pulling out a loaf of bread, shuffling through the contents of the fridge to find a topping you wanted. As you searched, a soft bumping at your ankle caught your attention, a sharp and chipper bark to follow it, and you glanced down, finding a wagging tail and a ball of golden fur staring up at you expectantly. “That dog is a bottomless pit of food!”

“He’s a growing boy!” You waved the cook off, taking a packet of ham out and peeling a slice off from the inside of the pack, holding it up at about waist height, and watching as the dog shuffled backwards, staring up at it and preparing himself. “C’mon, Scoot, jump!”

The dog did so, a happy yip sounding from him as he did, snatching half of the slice as it tore in your hands, and chewing down on it happily, pieces falling from its mouth and onto the floor, and he was quick to lick those up too. “He’s never going to learn any tricks if you pamper him like that.”

You looked up, Thomas having come through the doorway, Newt following behind him, your partner raising his shirt to his nose and sniffing at it, trying to determine whether the stench had transferred to his uniform just from doing the laundry, before collapsing down in the armchair. “He just did a trick! He jumped!” Scooter did it again, snatching the rest of the ham from your fingers, and you gasped as teeth brushed over your fingers, your hand snatching back, and Thomas chuckled, coming to a stop before you and taking the ham from your fingers.

“He did not jump on command, he just jumped for food.”

“Fine! You try!” You raised a brow, and Thomas took the challenge, a smirk forming.

“Scooter!” The dog’s head snapped to face him, from where he’d been occupying himself with pawing at one of your undone laces, now focused on Thomas. “Scooter, sit.” The dog remained still for a second, your lips pursing as he continued to pant and wag happily, stood on all four paws.

“What was it you were saying?”

Thomas’ eyes flicked up to you, narrowing for a second, before he was trying again. “Scooter, sit.” Your jaw was slack as the dog did exactly as told, sitting neatly and letting his tail brush over the flooring patterns, hearing the fridge behind you opening and closing, jars and tins rattling as Fry continued to cook. “Good boy, Scoot! No, lay down.” Thomas clicked his fingers, pointing at the floor, and the dog flattened out, staring up at Thomas expectantly, and you huffed. “Good boy. You want a treat?”

A bark signalled that, and Thomas rolled up a piece of the honey-glazed delicacy that Fry was snatching back a second later with mumbles about it being wasted, and Scooter stood up to snatch it, running away across the room in a pitter-patter of movements, scurrying away to his bed in the corner.

“See?”

“How the hell did you do that?” You demanded, washing your hands under the tap and drying them off, before going back to the sandwich you’d been preparing, and Thomas seated himself on one of the island stools with a shrug.

“I’ve been practising. Wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, consider me surprised.” You offered, grabbing a knife from one of the drawers, and Fry groaned beside you, shooting you both a dirty look as you began to spread the butter.

“Consider me revolted.” He gagged, and you rolled your eyes, swinging your foot out to kick at his shin, Thomas flipping him off despite the heat that was building on his cheek, and the chef wasn’t deterred from mimicking your conversation. “Seriously, get a room.”

“We have a room. It’s this kitchen. Two out of three, we win, majority rules.”

“Nice.” Thomas grinned, holding his hand out, and you slammed your palm against his in a satisfying high five, before pressing the knife down and cleaning it off, sealing the butter back up and putting it in the fridge, before grabbing your fillings. Layering them on carefully, you started slowly, constructing your sandwich carefully, and building it on your plate, before slicing it evenly down the middle, starting at your lunch proudly.

You only had a second to appreciate it, before a large hand was picking up a piece of it, taking it away and biting the corner off or it happily. “Hey! Who the hell said you could eat my sandwich?”

“Sharing is caring, sweetheart.” He winked, taking another large bite and speaking through his food, hopping down from the stool, and your face screwed up. You took your now half a sandwich, walking towards the empty couch and hearing Thomas trail after you, the couch the wrong way to the screen, but you weren’t all that bothered about what was happening in this movie anyway, and so you faced away from it, spreading out along the couch. “Move your legs.”

“Give me my sandwich back!”

“It’s half gone now!” He held it up, showing you the evidence of the half-eaten piece, and you shrugged. As if to prove a point, he pushed the rest of it all into his mouth at once, cheeks feeling with food and lips barely able to close, before he was brushing crumbs from his shirt, and picking your legs up at the ankles, lifting them up to be able to sit down.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Yep.” His words were muffled, your feet being laid back down across his lap, and you took a more polite bite of the remaining half. His fingers moved to your shoes, finding the undone laces and wrapping them around his fingers, before pulling them tightly and looping them into neat knots. He repeated the same on the other foot, before slumping back into the couch a little, still trying to chew the whole mouthful, and you wiggled a little as you got more comfortable, sliding further down until it was your calves in his lap instead of your feet, and your shoulders could rest on the armrest.

His hand rested on your knee, thumb smoothing over you lightly as his other hand produced his phone from his pocket, beginning to swipe at it absentmindedly.

“You two are honestly sickening. I have toothache.”

“Oh, cut the crap, Newt. You spent a half-hour on the phone to me two days ago talking about Derek.” Newt looked shocked for a second, pale cheeks flushing with warm colour, before he was shrugging it off.

“Yeah, well, at least me and Derek have never cuddled in a waiting room at his job.”

“We aren’t cuddling right now!” You scoffed, taking another bite of your sandwich, and chewing it as you process what to say next. “Besides, it would be unprofessional to cuddle in a waiting room where patients could see. This is totally different because we’re inside the house, an-”

Your words went flat as you heard the siren overhead go off, even Thomas’ thumb on your knee pausing its motions, everybody going silent, only the sounds of sizzling oil and the muted television static to go as the alarm went off. You deflated, only yourself and Newt being called for, and you heaved yourself to a sitting position, Newt already beginning to peel his body back up out of the comfy chair he’d seated himself in.

“At least it’s only a local call, we’ll be back before the shift even ends.”

Your partner’s words did little to comfort you, and he chuckled as you continued to glare, before forcing yourself into action.

Swinging your legs down to sit up, you looked mournfully at your only half-eaten meal, before handing the plate to Thomas, who beamed at the offering, your fingers tousling his hair before you were wandering away, and attempting to pull your hair back into something that resembled a pony-tail using on the bobble on your wrist and your fingers.

Newt grabbed the keys, ready to set off, and you followed after him as the doors remained yet to even start swinging shut in his haste. Reaching the van, you hesitated as you neared climbing in, stripping away the plastic over your seat and dropping it down into the footwell of the van, watching Newt do the same. Starting up the ambulance and fastening your seatbelt, Newt flicked on the SatNav, the machine taking a second to load up, before it was programming in your given destination and beginning to guide you.

“So, that’s something pretty new.”

“What is?” Your eyes flickered over yourself, the same uniform you always wore clad on your body, and a pair of sneakers, your brow raising as you turned to your friend, the silence saying everything, and he scoffed. Switching gears as he pulled out onto the faster roads, he spared you a look, dubious and unbelieving of your confusion.

“You know what.”

“I assure you, I don’t.” You shuffled a little, the radio crackling, but none of the chatter directed toward the two of you was coming through yet, and you waited.

He sighed, flicking on the indicators and pulling out onto the highway. “You and Tommy. That’s what I’m talking about. What’s up with you two?”

Heat flushed over your face, and you sank back a little further into your seat, but your lips wanted to form a smile, and you had to bite down on the inside of your cheek just to contain it. “I’m not totally sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Well, I kinda’ know. It’s all so new. It’s scary, but exhilarating.” Newt only smiled, eyes flicking to the mirror to check over everything he was looking at, before taking another turn following the SatNav, a side road to leave the highway, and you were still waiting on call details to come through on the radio. “I mean, I know it’s something. He knows that, too. We’ve talked about it, but we’re just, sort of, waiting.”

“Waiting for what, exactly?”

“The right time, I guess.” You sighed, realising how odd it all sounded out loud, to be talking like a teenager to your friend about a guy you liked, but it also felt natural and right. “Everything has just been crazy lately. I don’t think we would be like we were without the craziness, and it’s kinda’ weird to think that this job has changed my life so much, that this house has changed my life so much, when none of the others did before. I think we’re just waiting to see if it’s real, or just an in-the-moment emotional deal.”

“Seems pretty real to me.”

You smiled, knowing that Newt’s words were intended to be soothing, but instead, they made your heart race a little more.

Everything made your heart race nowadays, like you were in overdrive all the time, you were constantly on the edge, and not in an anxious way. You’d spent so much of your life feeling closed off and locked down that you weren’t used to how it felt to be on the opposite end of the scale. You had anxiety, and fear, and loneliness, that was your normal status, but since settling into Firehouse ‘21, everything had been turned upside down.

Your heart would race with thrill and excitement, and the heat flushing over you wasn’t so much from rage - after you’d sorted your problems with Thomas, anyway - but from flustered shyness. On the days when you felt lonely, when the urge to be around someone else was stronger, your phone was there, lighting up with notifications from a group chat and you knew you had friends you could call, someone who would spend time with you, when they weren’t on duty.

It was all still new, and a little scary, and still thrilling.

Then, there was Thomas. You weren’t sure what it was with Thomas, because you had nothing to compare it to. Your previous relationships had been quick and spinning. A fling that ended just as fast as it started, almost always ending after a first date with tumbling into bed and shutting down when the first signs of intimacy began to rear their heads. You moved around and you never stayed put long enough to invest in something, but you had no plans of leaving Firehouse ‘21 any time soon, and so you’d allowed yourself to let Thomas in before you’d even realised it was happening.

Intimate and emotional, a connection that wasn’t physical yet, you didn’t even know what it felt like to kiss him, and yet it still made you feel a little breathless and lightheaded to imagine it because there was a weight and meaning hanging to it now. There was something deeper than you’d ever had, a relationship that wasn’t pinned on sex and quick connections to chase away the cold sheets when you felt truly alone, but instead, left you feeling warm and loved even when no one was around.

“So, what about you and Derek?”

It was Newt’s turn to be embarrassed, the gravel and shale under the tires crunching loudly as the two of you began to trail up abandoned dirt roads, the rickety and deafening sounds of the trains of the metal bridges overhead shooting past were like the banging of metal against metal, hitting a spoon against a pan or steel-tipped work boots on metal platforms.

Pale skin turned dark pink, and he flashed a cheesy grin, eyes sparkling a little, and you already knew how excited he was. “That good, huh?”

“Things with Derek are awesome.”

“I take full responsibility for that awesomeness.” You teased, and he chuckled, the van coming to a halt, and your brows furrowed, amusement disappearing and confusion over as you stared out at the empty scene. The SatNav on the dashboard clicked green and shut down as you reached your destination, clearly telling you both that this was the correct location, and yet there was nothing, and nobody to be seen. “Put a pin in that conversation.”

He only mumbled his response, equally as confused, and the two of you stepped out of the car, a chill sweeping over you as it became eerily similar to the last case you’d received with nobody present, still so recent that the police investigation into it was still open, the court case over Chuck’s death was yet to be closed and the arson investigators hadn't even completed their analysis. “Check the radio. Is it turned on?”

You moved back in, knowing that it was because the static had been playing lowly in your ears all the way through, but there was nothing else. Normally, at a call on the edge of a town like this, the two of you would be greeted by someone, a frantic pedestrian, friend or family member, the person who had made the call would arrive to lead you to the person, and even as you listened, you couldn't hear anything.

No loud groaning or yells of pain, no mangled screams for help or even a blood trail to guide you. There was absolutely nothing to suggest why the two of you would be here, and it all became more and more suspicious as each second ticked by. Newt tucked his hands into his pockets, and you picked up the receiver, sitting sideways on your seat and turning the dial, before pressing the button down on the side.

“House ‘21 ambulance, calling in. We haven't had any more details, can we get an update?”

You waited for a second, eyes narrowing as the machine clicked you through to an operator, and there were muffled voices in the background of the call centre, before a clearer voice rang through. “‘21 ambulance, can you confirm your location, registration number and ID for me.”

Newt smirked at the frown on your face, knowing that every so often a caller came who actually required you to cite the information. While you couldn't deny that it was protocol, and they should be doing it every time, most of them took it simply at your word of being the paramedics, because they knew that most robbers wouldn't be bothering to call in on the radio of they were stealing from an ambulance, they’d just clear out all the medicines and run.

Listing off the information she requested, you listened and waited, the sound of long nails typing quickly at a keyboard sounded out, and you turned up the volume, holding the device out from you a little, so Newt could hear more clearly, even as he wandered a few feet away, looking around some more. “Still there, ‘21?”

“Yep.” You paused, hearing a few more clicks, before the woman was sighing.

“My files don’t have much. The caller didn’t leave a name or an identification, the only notes here are the address, and that you’re looking for a stab wound victim.” Newt's brows raised as he heard the words, and you only felt more confused. If someone had been stabbed, there should be a trail of blood or someone calling for help, you should be able to see them, they couldn't have gotten far without leaving a pathway of where they were, and yet, there was nothing here except the trains on the bridge overhead. “That all?”

“That's all.”

She hung up not long after, and you grabbed for your go-bag, chucking Newt his bag too, and he only just managed to catch it as the breath was knocked from his lungs, sticking his tongue out at you childishly as you grinned, before slamming your door back shut, and letting Newt lock it up, the van chirping and flashing as it sealed.

Swinging your bag onto your shoulder, your partner mimicked you. Wandering away together, you paced a few minutes from the van, staring out across the empty area, and crossing your arms. “I gave up my lunch for this shit.”

“You go left, I’ll go right, we’ll sweep around, and in ten minutes we meet at the van?” You only nodded, kicking at a particularly large pebble under your foot, and turning to face the direction you were told to go in. You heard Newt stepping away, pebbles shifting underfoot, and you followed suit, glancing back at the blond over your shoulder for a second. “Yell if you find something.”

“Will do.” You saluted, a grin thrown over his shoulder to you, before fixing your gaze ahead of you once again.

There were a few old houses, run-down and abandoned, nobody having lived in them for at least a decade. Broken windows were boarded up and front doors were hanging on their hinges, spray paint that was old and faded, drips and chips on the wood that was stained with years of abandonment, and wire fences with chains on that had been long since cut away. The grass was dead, yellowed and brown and overrun with weeds, and spoke spots ere charred blank with ash, where you suspected kids had come to light fires and get away from parents when they were bored; empty bottles of booze and cans of pop littered the ground, among wrappers and boxes for things too old to see the labels on.

You checked every garden, standing in the gate and calling out to offer help, but nothing except for silence came back. The rusty metal creaked as you stepped out from the last row, three random houses in an area of town that had clearly been skipped in the surrounding gentrification, left to fall into disrepair, and you didn’t blame it. The constant source of trains of the tracks overhead was already beginning to give you a headache, there were no real roads built to this area, and it was miles to the closest bus stop or shopping centre.

Turning back around, you didn’t walk straight back to him, but you walked a little to the side, taking an angle back towards the van just to be sure you were covering the maximum space that you could, checking over it all thoroughly, and just as you’d been giving up, your eyes caught the flicker of movement in your peripherals. When you focused on it, it took you a second to find it again, the trembling of metal stilts holding the bridge up forty feet above you disguising it, but then there was a twitch again.

In the shadows, easily missed, but then there they were. Sitting, leaned up against one of the bars from the other side, hand-pressed weakly over their stomach, head lolled to the side. You weren’t even sure if they had moved, or if they’d simply slumped forward because of the vibrations of the rickety bridge legs, and you felt a jolt of adrenaline race through you as you tried to jump into action.

“Shit!” You muttered, a slight rise on the hill before you as you tried to climb up it, the dust forming clouds behind you as the stones slipped at the sudden and uncoordinated movements, before you were stumbling closer to the person. “Newt!”

Another train shot overhead, drowning out the sounds of your shouts, and you hoped Newt had actually heard it, because you’d walked so far that he was more like a blur away from you, and you certainly couldn't hear his yells as he offered help anymore, they’d faded away a few minutes ago, but you couldn't be occupied with it now. The second the train had passed, you tried yelling again, out of breath and panting as you dropped to your knees before the person.

Their head was lying forward, chin pressed to their chest, fresh red blood seeping out between their fingers in weak bursts, and at least you knew they were still alive. Cupping their face, you pushed their head back, skin sickly pale and flushed with sweat, a very quiet groan leaving his lips, and hooded eyes cracked open barely at all to look at you. “Did you make that call?”

“Call?” He echoed, seemingly confused about what was even happening, but with the amount of blood that was staining the pebbles around you and clumping in the dust and dirt as it turned dark, you weren’t all that surprised.

“Alright, buddy, we’ll get you all sorted out, okay?” You circled a hand around behind his neck, the other on his side, and you needed to lay him down just to be able to get to the wound, because you couldn't see anything with him slumped over like this, daylight partially blocked out from the bridge overhead and shadows forming over the man. “I need to get you laying down, think you can handle that?”

He didn’t even nod, simply made a broken hum under his breath that you decided to take as an acknowledgement, before pulling him forwards. He let out a louder cry this time, the pain taking him over, and you heard the rapid-fire crunches of Newt running towards you, slightly uneven footsteps on his hurt leg, but you didn’t pay any attention to it, grateful that he’d heard you, but focusing on your patient.

His hands had fallen away from his wounds, and you fumbled for your torch, the light designed to check eyes did little to light up the wound but blood was staining the pale shirt he wore, leaving wet red patches as far up as his ribs. Newt skidded to a stop behind you, a hand running through the longer fringe in his face as he pushed it back, eyes wide.

“Well, shit, I’ll be damned.”

“Knife wound, pretty deep, can you hold the torch for me?” He nodded, stains of red smeared across it from where you’d already got blood on your fingers, and you pushed up the edge of his shirt, getting a look at the wound. He sank to his knees, holding the light over it more clearly, and you hoped he could sense your silent appreciation. It helped you to see, but didn’t clarify much, because blood was smeared over his skin and gave illusions about where his injuries started and ended, bubbling blood still leaving the gash. Dropping your bag down to your side, you opened it up, fumbling through for a pair of rubber gloves, and a tissue to be able to wipe away the blood with.

Snapping the latex onto your wrists and taking the folded clump of paper, dragging it delicately but firmly over the spot to try and get a better look. A second, maybe two, was all you got of clear skin before blood was beginning to fill the space once again, the man’s shallow pants and groans getting lighter and weaker, and you knew you had to hurry, lost time in having to search for him taking its toll now, but it was long enough to get a good look.

“We’re going to need some stuff from the van, probably the stretcher, but I don’t know how well we can wheel him across that gravel.”

“I can just pull up the van?” He offered, clicking off the torch to hand it back to you as you put the correct pressure down on the wound to stop the bleeding, pinching around the edges and holding tight to seal the wound, and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s good. Pull up the van!”

He nodded, brushing dust from his knees as he stood, and you used your other hand to begin searching through your bag for the disinfectant spray you needed to start cleaning up his wound so you could put a provisionary seal on it.

You found the canister, shaking it carefully and trying to squeeze the lid with two fingers to get it off, a ‘pop’ sounding before the fading footsteps Newt was making came to a sudden halt.

“Woah, woah, woah..” You looked up, eyes widening and blood running cold at the sight. Newt had his hand held up, a man who’d ace you couldn't quite see behind the baseball cap and the hood he had pulled up to obscure his features, sleeves reaching gloved hands, and a gun in one hand, finger pressed over the trigger as Newt took a few steps back toward you both and stumbling slightly, his leg going weak as he stood unevenly on a rock, and you couldn't help the gasp in fear that left you. “Look, man, we don’t want any trouble. We just got a call, for that guy.”

He reached out one hand, pointing to where you were kneeling still, and you leaned forwards, moving very slowly as you tried to press down gently on the top of the canister, spraying gently on the wound, but as the man let out a sudden and pained noise, the gun moved to you, and you froze, jumping back from the actions and dropping the can.

“I know, because I made the call.”

“You made the call?” You repeated, the face of the shadowed man becoming a little clearer, a large tattoo taking up one side of his face, and you shifted, the uncomfortable stones digging into your knees making you wince as you tried to hold still, an ache in your muscles as your heart raced with fear once again. “If you made the call, why can’t we help him.”

“You’re not here to help him, his wound is just to get you here.”

“You stabbed a man to get ahold of a paramedic?” The gun clicked, the safety catch off, and you swallowed thickly, internally berating yourself for asking such a question when the moment was so tense. “Look, we’ll come with you, we’re more than happy to, but just let me help him and then we’ll go wherever y-”

“Lady, if you don’t stop talking, I will blow your fucking brains all over these stones.” Your jaw snapped shut, heart freezing in your chest entirely, and you nodded dumbly. “Great, now get the fuck up, grab your bag, and walk over here real slow.”

You hesitated, only for a second, before lifting your hand from the man’s wound, hearing him groan out a little, and you ducked your head, knocking your bag over and the contents falling out across the gravel. “I don’t know if you’re even sentient enough to hear me right now,”

Your words were as low as you could get them, hoping then standing a few metres away wouldn't pick them up as he focused back on Newt, and you packed away slowly,

“If you can, I’m leaving the antiseptic and some gauze here. You need to pinch the sides of your wound, lay still, take deep breaths, and hold as much pressure as you can. In about forty minutes, we’d be due to make a call in, we’re supposed to every hour we’re out; when we don’t report in, they’ll send another ambulance. Just hold on, alright?”

You nudged the items a little further into the shadows, hoping the man had caught your words and had the strength to hold on, before you were peeling off your gloves, tucking them into your bag, and zipping it up to sit on your shoulder. Holding your hands up to show they were empty, you stepped beside Newt, the look on his face silently questioning if you were alright, and you gave him a subtle nod, raising a brow in return, and he ducked his head once in reply.

He stood behind you both, pushing the edge of the gun against Newt’s head to urge you both forward, and you matched his steps, the three of you walking slowly as you allowed yourself to be guided. There was a sleek black car pulled up, one you’d missed when arriving, and you suspected he’d driven away and waited somewhere for the ambulance to go past before pulling up again, because it wasn’t exactly hidden.

“Look, we’re going willingly, alright? No fight here, I’ll help. Our ambulance is right there,” You pointed to it, hands still raised up, arms beginning to ache and tire, and Newt folded his, resting his hands behind his head, and turning to look at you as you spoke, “Just let me call in for someone else to come help the other guy, they won’t even get here until after we’ve gone anyway, it’ll t-”

Your ears were ringing, the sound of the bang going off, the rush of air, and the way it felt like an explosion had gone off inside of your own head. You stumbled, falling to your knees at the impact as your entire body went weak, and your vision went black for a second as you tried to process it. You couldn't focus, everything seeming a little blurry, and you could feel Newt’s hands on your shoulders, shaking you, a very muffled shout of your name, before it was all torn backwards once again, and you felt nauseous as the shock swept through your body.

The man crouched down, pulling his hood back and directing an angry gaze straight at you as you blinked to clear your vision, barely able to hear a thing. “That was a fucking warning shot, speak again, and the next bullet won’t miss.”

You had to read his lips for half of the words he said, barely processing them, the bullet that had flown past your ear was making everything fade around the edges, and you were hauled roughly to your feet by a hand under your arm, leaning you against Newt as you staggered the final few feet to the car that was your destination. You could barely clear your head, shaking it a little bit finding even that action was too painful.

Blood was rushing, your headache felt like it was about to split your skull in half, and your shoulder ached as you were tossed down roughly into the open boot, unable to catch yourself in time. Newt followed, the lid slamming shut, darkness surrounding instead. You could feel Newt’s hands on you, the flash of light from his keyring over your irises making you wince, his fingers pressing along your jaw and around your ears, checking for any signs of a ruptured eardrum or any bleeding, but as the car rumbled to life, peeling out of abandoned area everything felt like it was slipping.

Your fingers scratched at the flooring of the car, nails digging into the felt, grains and dirt stuck under your fingernails, and then the car jolted, dipping into a pothole on the road, your head hitting against the floor of the car, and everything you were still clinging to was lost as well as you blacked out.

#thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #smoke and fire #SAF #firefighter!tommy #ff!tommy #the maze runner #thomas the maze runner #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader smut

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 36

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: New Year’s Eve

A/N: Oops, I'm late again. But this is the longest chapter so far (over 6k words) so I hope you can forgive me for that!

This chapter finally brings back some friends we haven't seen in a while and introduces a couple of new ones too. I'm not gonna lie, having read ToA just once about a year ago, my characterization is probably very off so my apologies for that!

Now, hope you guys enjoy this mega chapter! Please let me know what you think! It's suuper important.

Words: 6,2k 

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

After the boxing day Leo and Calypso returned back to their flat and the ‘normal’ life. Calypso already started remembering the downsides of working at a flower shop as it was a surprisingly busy time of the year with the wealthy people of that area wanting some flowers for their New Year celebrations. She and her boss Demi were the only two running the shop between the holidays while the second assistant was on a break. The older woman promised Calypso a day off for New Year’s eve, though, claiming that young people like her should be having fun that day instead of working. She graciously accepted the offer even though she didn’t have any plans for that day; after the eventful Christmas she kind of just wanted to stay at the flat with Leo.

But as it happened, Hazel texted her the day before the eve that she was having a small ‘gathering’ with a few friends and since Calypso hadn’t seen her for several weeks due to the work and a break from the art classes, she told Hazel that she would come. When she had asked Leo how he would feel about it, he had offered to go with her. Usually he would have spent the New Year Eve at Jason and Piper’s annual party but it was not happening this year due to their complicated situation. The flatmates had still decided to not tell Hazel or Frank about their own, developed situation, because they hadn’t even told Leo’s parents yet.

“So what is this Hazel like?” Leo asked Calypso as they were getting prepared for the evening out. “She doesn’t mind a stranger coming to her party, right?”

Calypso almost missed his question because of Leo’s current state of shirtlessness. A moment earlier he had wanted to know if she thought he should wear a light red or a white shirt to the party and hadn’t bothered to put either of them on yet. Not that she minded. No, her boyfriend definitely was not a bad sight with his tan, strong body, a quiet voice in her head said. “Oh no, she doesn’t mind,” Calypso finally remembered to answer. “I think she was even happy to hear you are coming with me. Besides, you have met Frank before, so technically you are not a complete stranger.”

“Are those two dating?” Leo asked.

“No, they are not. Not officially, at least. Hazel likes him but due to various reasons they have decided they shouldn’t rush it. Sounds kind of familiar to me.” Calypso looked at him significantly.

“It does? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leo raised his eyebrows, and Calypso nudged him on the arm playfully.

“Anyway, Hazel is great. She is the kind of person who seems really sweet on the surface but she would probably kick your behind if needed. She’s also kind of mysterious when it comes to her own story but I feel I can trust her. I may have even accidentally slipped her once that my flatmate is kind of neat.” She smiled at him shyly.

“Oh? So you’ve talked about me to her.” Leo grinned in response. “Hope you remembered to mention my good looks and quick wit…”

“Yep, and your modesty,” Calypso shook her head. “Seriously speaking, though, I find her very inspiring. Despite everything she’s been through, she’s thriving to do the things she enjoys, and she’s an incredible artist. Better than I, for sure.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I like your art.”

Calypso was happy and slightly flustered about Leo’s compliment but she wanted to explain herself. “I’m not selling myself short; I am just telling the truth. She really is that great.”

Leo raised his hand. “Alright, I believe you.”

“Good. Uh, hey, how should I wear my hair for the party?” Calypso asked as she stepped in front of a hallway mirror, taking some hairpins into her hands.

“I… I like it the way it is?” Leo looked at her with slight disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe that she didn’t like her current hairdo.

“Thanks… I don’t know. I could leave it mostly free but maybe I’ll add some waves.” Calypso wasn’t quite sure why she cared so much how she looked because that wasn’t like her, but she figured it might have had something to do with her being nervous about meeting new people at the party. Hazel and Frank were probably the only ones she knew there, after all. Her paying attention to her looks definitely didn’t have anything to do with the fact that she liked it when Leo gave her that special look that he reserved only for her.

“Sunshine, just so you know, you are the kind of person who will always stand out no matter what you wear. Me? Well, you could perform your magic on me but I’d still look like Santa’s elf.”

Calypso couldn’t believe that her boyfriend clearly had no idea of the effect he had had on her only a moment earlier (and still had). “Leo, don’t let this get to your head but I think there's a certain charm in your elf ears.” She took one of his earlobes between her fingers and tugged it gently.

Leo’s eyes brightened at her comment.

“If that’s what you think, then screw what anyone else says.”

“That’s the spirit,” Calypso approved, letting go of his ear and almost leaning close enough to give him a cheek kiss, but then she withdrew quickly. Leo looked quite disappointed. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked teasingly.

“I thought that you were going to kiss me,” Leo replied honestly.

“I’ve heard that there’s a habit that you kiss your partner at midnight on New Year’s. It’s not midnight yet, is it?” Calypso blinked innocently.

“No, but…” Leo couldn’t come up with any arguments to Calypso’s statement so he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Sometimes good things are worth waiting for,” Calypso finished with a smile and withdrew into her room to change her clothes. While doing that, she admitted to herself that this phase where everything was so new was pretty exciting.

…

A little bit later Calypso was dressed up in a dark blue short dress, tying the bracelet she had gotten on Christmas around her wrist when Leo got out of his room. He had switched his usual mechanic’s overalls to a white collarless shirt, suspenders, and pinstripe pants. Calypso had a feeling that he would have also put his tool belt on if that had been socially acceptable. To her surprise, he seemed to have even tried to flatten his curly hair a little, although it hadn’t quite worked out.

“Wow, look at you. The only thing you’re missing right now is a hat,” she noted, ruffling his hair a little. What she actually meant was that she thought he actually looked very nice in his current clothes. It was quite different from what she was used to seeing on him – even at school Leo usually wore a casual t-shirt or a hoodie and worn jeans – but she didn’t mind either look. Leo frowned at her, though.

“Don’t look so concerned,” Calypso continued with amusement. “I just meant that you kind of remind me of some film stars of the past. I just can’t get my finger on who. It’s a compliment, though.”

Leo’s frown disappeared. “Alright, thanks.” Then he took a second look at her and his eyes got that funny gleam he always got when he was about to say something embarrassing. “Woah, Sunshine. I’m suspecting that you are made of copper and tellurium.”

“And why’s that, mister chemistry nerd?” she asked, although she could pretty much guess his answer.

“Because you’re CuTe.”

Calypso shook her head in disbelief, but couldn’t hide her smile. “Really, Leonidas? Out of all the cheesy pick up lines in the world you chose that one?”

“Nothing wrong with chemistry puns, mi sol,” Leo claimed. “But I do think that you, um, clean up nicely.”

“As do you,” Calypso admitted, feeling the warmth gathering to her cheeks. “But we should probably get going now before we melt each other with these compliments. It’s getting pretty late already,” she noted when she checked the clock of her phone before dropping it back into her purse.

“Okay, I’m as ready as I can be,” Leo replied and tugged a strand of Calypso’s hair gently before picking his keys and heading to the door after her.

…

Frank and Hazel lived on a different campus than Leo and Calypso so it took them a while to find it. The party was organized in Frank’s flat because it was bigger than Hazel’s. The latter had explained that Frank had applied for a two-room flat because he had several pets (who would however be spending their New Year at Frank’s granny) and he was lucky enough to be able to afford it due to his work and because he had inherited his mother.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting but not this,” Calypso told Leo when she noticed a cat tree and a big pile of toys for both cats and dogs in one corner of the house. “For some reason I pictured him having a gym or something in one of his rooms.”

“I guess never judge a book by its cover,” they heard a voice behind them say. Calypso felt heat rise on her face as she realized the speaker was Hazel.

“H-hi, Hazel!” Calypso stuttered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hazel waved her hand when she noticed Calypso’s expression. “I can see why you would imagine that.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have assumed anything either way,” Calypso muttered. “What about you, though? What is your place like? I really should visit you some time.”

“Way smaller and I have a couple of flatmates there. But to be honest? I like it that way. My father tried to buy me a new apartment several times but something always happened to those places, like they were cursed or something. One burned, one had some water damage, one was full of bugs… But I was able to get my current place because I do some odd jobs for a neighbor. So far nothing weird has happened.”

“Not that it’s any of my business, but didn’t you once tell me that your father doesn’t contact you all too often? Yet he was going to buy you an entire apartment? Calypso asked, confused.

“I think it’s because he’s proud as hell,” Hazel shrugged. “His cousin or something - a president at your uni, I think - bought his son an entire house in a nice area, and my father just couldn’t let him flex about it. Well, his plan didn’t quite work out as I just told you.”

“Wait, the son of our uni’s president… then do you happen to know Jason Grace?” Calypso asked, connecting the dots in her head.

“Yes, I do,” Hazel answered. “A distant cousin. We lived in San Francisco at the same time for a little while until he moved away. And now we’re somehow both here. Small world.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Jason is Leo’s good friend. And this is Leo, by the way,” Calypso introduced, feeling weirdly happy about being able to introduce him to her friend, even if they were still keeping their relationship status a secret.

However, soon Calypso noticed that Hazel took Leo’s appearance in for a moment longer than was necessary and she couldn’t help but feel just a little bit uneasy even though she knew that she didn’t actually have a reason for that. Leo was dating her, and Hazel seemed very interested in Frank. But there was something unusual about her stare, and she couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Hello, Leo.” Hazel seemed to return back to her regular self as she shook his hand, although the color of her cheeks might have been a tiny bit darker than a moment ago. “I’m Hazel. Calypso never stops talking about you at our art classes. I’m not entirely sure if it’s extremely adorable or a little annoying.”

“What?” Leo turned towards her and she couldn’t stop herself from blushing. “Cal, I didn’t know that you are constantly talking about me behind my back! Hope they have been good things, at least.” “Don’t worry, they’ve been nothing but good things,” Hazel reassured him, glancing at Calypso mischievously.

While Hazel’s teasing reassured Calypso that she had simply imagined her interest in Leo, they were getting dangerously close to the relationship topic, so she tried to change the course of the conversation. “Hazel, you didn’t have to tell him that! Now he won’t stop boasting for the next two weeks,” she said exaggeratedly even though in reality she was secretly kind of happy that Leo heard about her compliments.

“Sorry, Caly,” Hazel grinned at her, not looking particularly sorry. Then she leaned closer to her, whispering. “Just a little help from a friend. I thought you were going to get together during your vacation!”

“Th-thanks, but that really isn’t necessary,” Calypso whispered back, hoping that her acting was good enough to convince Hazel that she and Leo hadn’t made any progress yet. To her relief, her friend got distracted when a guy who was at least a head, maybe even more, taller than Hazel, with dark, short hair appeared next to her.

“There you are,” the guy said. “Nico was wondering if…” When he realized they had company, he gave them a polite smile.

“Oh, hi! Nice to see you guys!”

“You both have met Frank before, right?” Hazel asked.

“Yep,” Leo confirmed. “Frank thought I was a bad dog owner, but quite frankly, that was an understandable mistake.”

“How is your dog doing now?” Frank wanted to know. “Hope he’s good?”

“Never better! He enjoyed following Calypso everywhere while we were at Waystation over Christmas,” Leo replied happily.

“So are you two…?” Frank turned his head between Calypso and Leo. Calypso couldn’t help but wonder how many times they would still be asked that question that evening.

“No, no, no,” Leo denied. “That’s crazy talk. Right Cal? She just came with me because it was a better option than spending the holidays alone in our flat.” Calypso nodded along even though she didn’t like that they had to lie to their friends. But it was her who had made the decision to not tell them.

“Yeah. We’re just flatmates,” she confirmed.

Luckily, Frank didn’t ask more. Again, Calypso noticed that Hazel was staring at Leo with that mysterious expression on her face and she was already going to ask if something was wrong when Hazel addressed Leo:

“Have we… Have we met before? I mean, before tonight? You look so familiar to me but you can’t be…” She frowned.

“I don’t think so?” Leo seemed a bit confused. “Not that I remember, at least.”

“Oh… alright. I guess you just really look like someone I used to know. You haven’t ever lived in New Orleans, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” Leo shook his head. “I’m originally from Texas. And yeah, I’ve also lived in a few other states for short periods of time when I was moving from a foster home to foster home but never in Louisiana.”

“Alright, sorry for bothering you about that,” Hazel said.

“It’s OK. Now that I think of it, though… I did have some distant relatives in that area, but I haven’t seen those people since I was a baby.”

“Really? What’s their last name?” Hazel seemed to get more interested again.

“Valdez, like mine. I think the mom of the boy who was around my age was my mom’s cousin or something like that. Why? Do you know them?”

“Yeah… Possibly… The boy’s name is Sammy Valdez. Does that sound familiar?”

“Hmmm…” Leo stopped to think about it. “Maybe. The boy’s name did start with S. I’ve seen pictures of me playing with another kid who looked a lot like me in our relatives’ yard but I think I literally met him just once. I was like one back then.”

Hazel seemed a little bit disappointed by Leo’s answer. “Alright. Sorry, it’s just that Sammy used to be my only real friend until I moved away from there and I was just wondering if you knew anything about how he’s doing now. I guess you don’t.”

“No, can’t say I do. My fam… well, they weren’t particularly accepting of me after what happened to my mom…” Leo said bitterly. “One of my aunts spread some sick lies… So, yeah, I moved to a foster home and haven’t seen any of my relatives since then.”

“I understand…” Hazel said sympathetically. Calypso imagined that Leo must have been grateful that Hazel didn’t question him more about what had happened. “Sorry, this is not a good topic to talk about at a party. My curiosity just got the best of me, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Leo waved his hand dismissively. “Let’s just move on.”

“I agree. Frank, were you going to say something about Nico before you got interrupted?” Hazel turned to him.

“Oh yeah,” Frank remembered. “Nico wanted to know if it’s OK that Will comes here a bit later. He’s working today, apparently.”

“No problem,” Hazel replied. “We may not have a lot of food and drinks left by that point, though, but he’s gonna have to deal with that.”

“Nico? Not Nico di Angelo, by any chance?” Leo joined the conversation.

“Yep, that’s him. He’s my half brother. I know, we look nothing alike,” Hazel commented when she noticed Leo’s expression.

“No, I was just surprised that you know him and Jason too… Soon you’ll probably tell us you know Percy Jackson too.”

“I’ve heard stories of him from the others,” Hazel chuckled. “But no, haven’t met him personally, at least yet.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you met him some time soon,” Leo predicted.

Calypso felt she had already been quiet uncomfortably long, just listening to Leo and Hazel talk and trying to figure out what to make of it. She couldn’t deny that she had felt a bit jealous at first but when she had learned that Hazel had only seemed that interested in him because he had looked like an old friend of hers, she had relaxed somewhat. Maybe the trust issues were a result of many failed relationships, if she could call them that given that most of them hadn’t lasted too long. Cursing herself for her unnecessary thoughts, she asked:

“So, is there anyone else I know here besides Nico?”

“I invited Rachel from our art classes too,” Hazel answered. “You remember her, right? She said she was really happy to spend the New Year’s Eve in any place that isn’t his father’s penthouse.”

Calypso remembered Rachel as a really enthusiastic and unique artist. She herself tended to try to make her art look a bit more simplistic while you really had to stop and look at Rachel’s art to be able to see its many dimensions.

“Yep, I remember her,” Calypso responded. “I’ve often thought about talking to her but there’s something a bit… intimidating about her, like she knows something about me that even I don’t know…” “She’s fine, though, when you learn to know her,” Hazel reassured her.

“That’s nice to know. If I see her, I’ll say hi.”

“Good,” Hazel nodded.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Leo nudged her on the arm. “I’m getting hungry. Maybe we should go and get something to eat.”

“Somehow he is already hungry even though he ate at home before we left,” Calypso said in disbelief. “How’s that even possible, Repair Boy?” Then she realized how the nicknames may have sounded to the others’ ears so she hurried to add: “Um, sorry, we’re used to using nicknames at our flat. With everyone. I’m Sunshine, Jason is a Lightning Boy and so on. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure he won’t eat everything!”

“It’s OK, there’s plenty for everyone. Also, if you plan to dance at some point tonight, watch out for my pink haired friend Lavinia. She is a little bit eager about tap dancing.”

“I don’t think we are gonna dance…” Calypso cursed herself for blushing like a teenager when she pictured herself going for a slow dance with Leo, standing as close to him as possible. “…But thanks for the warning.” Then she waved at the hosts quickly and started dragging Leo out of the room.

“Well? What do you think of my friends?” Calypso whispered when they were picking some nachos on their plates and no one was in the hearing distance.

“Hazel seems cool,” Leo replied nonchalantly. “But you really think I pay attention to anyone else when I have my amazing girlfriend next to me?”

“You’re so cheesy, Leo,” Calypso said but gave him her brightest smile. She might have also kissed him if it weren’t for the other people nearby and the fact that she was carrying a plate full of food.

“Part of my charm, babe,” Leo claimed, giving her that stupid grin that never failed to make her feel things. He sat down on an unoccupied chair near the table and started enjoying his nachos. “Hey, these are really good! You gotta try them.”

“Babe? I thought we already had our nickname discussion,” Calypso interrupted him. She sat down next to him but didn’t taste her nachos yet, instead expecting his answer.

“But it’s better than Mamacita, isn’t it?” Leo asked innocently.

Calypso couldn’t argue with that logic. “Well, yes, it is, but… maybe you should stick to Sunshine. Or just Cal. I’m not… huge on pet names. I’m just not used to them.”

Thankfully Leo seemed to understand. “Alright. I won’t call you a babe, then. My mom just used to say ‘a dear child has many names’ and it seems that has stuck with me. I think she meant that we have a tendency to give nicknames to those we care about. Maybe that’s the reason why I sometimes go a bit extra with the names I give you guys… especially you.”

“Oh. I see.”

There was something weirdly sweet about Leo’s reasoning behind his nicknames and Calypso couldn’t help but smile down at her food. She didn’t realize she had been lost in her thoughts for a moment until Leo said:

“Earth’s calling Calypso. Try this,” Leo handed her a nacho that had some sauce she wasn’t familiar with on it.

“Chili?” she asked when she tasted it and felt a slight sting on her tongue. It wasn’t a bad sensation, though; this sauce was notably milder than the one Leo had once fed her. “You really find ways to make me eat it.”

“Admit it: you liked it.”

Calypso was feeling a little brave because they were somehow still alone in the room: “Make me.”

Leo was about to lean closer to her when someone entered the room without a warning.

“Uh… Hi!” Nico di Angelo finally reacted to their presence when Calypso and Leo jumped a bit farther from each other.

“Hi, Nico,” Leo greeted him. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone I know here but it looks like I was wrong.”

“Seems so,” Nico replied, not in a mood for small talk.

“So how is it going?” Leo asked. “And how’s Will?”

“It’s going,” Nico shrugged, combing some of his long bangs to the side with his fingers. “Been trying to take it easy lately. Doctor’s orders. Will works as an intern at a hospital and turns out they really needed his help on New Year’s Eve so he’s not here yet. Something about lots of fireworks related accidents and so on…”

“Fireworks suck,” Leo commented, and Calypso noticed an angry spark in his eyes. “They feel like such a waste of money and they cause people to lose their eyes and such.”

Calypso wondered if Leo’s hatred towards the fireworks had something to do with the fact that fire was involved but she decided to ask about it later.

“Tell me about it,” Nico agreed. “Anyway, how do you two know Hazel and Frank?”

Calypso briefly explained how she had met Hazel at the art class and Leo told Nico about Festus’ vet visit.

“Somehow Hazel even knows my second cousin from Louisiana. How crazy is that?” Leo marveled.

“Pretty crazy, yeah,” Nico admitted, not contributing more to the topic so Leo decided to ask about something else.

“You haven’t happened to hear anything about Jason or Piper lately? I accidentally ran into Piper at Christmas and she seemed to be doing OK then, but… I’m still a bit worried about them.”

“I don’t really know much.” Nico replied vaguely. “Just that Jason hasn’t been home much lately. He’s always training, or with Percy and Annabeth or… I dunno. Just avoiding dealing with the situation. Or that’s at least how Will has interpreted his behavior. He’s way better at reading others than I am.”

Leo let out a frustrated sigh. “If only those two talked it out, said what they really thought…”

Calypso couldn’t help but see the amusing side of Leo’s statement. She started chuckling at him and both Leo and Nico gave her perplexed looks.

“What’s so funny about this? I was trying to be serious, Cal.” He narrowed his eyes, folding his arms over his chest.

That only made Calypso even more amused. “I know, I know! I’m sorry. It’s just that… don’t you think that’s a little bit ironic coming from your mouth?”

“From my mouth…?”

Nico still looked like he understood nothing about what was going on, but Leo had at least a tendency to blush when he realized that Calypso was right.

“Oh, this is totally different!” he claimed. “I, um, have my reasons to keep my mouth shut in certain situations. But those two… they’re just being weird.”

“I’m not even trying to follow this conversation anymore,” Nico stated, going to gather some chips and a beer from the food table. “Will would probably be able to translate Leo’s incoherent speech but he’s not here so I’m just gonna eat quietly now.”

Leo gave him an annoyed look and focused on his own food for a while. Once finished, he told Calypso that he wanted to see where the rest of the guests were. Calypso, relieved that Nico hadn’t apparently connected the dots about their relationship, agreed to follow him, but soon she realized that it might have been a mistake when Leo was walking towards the dancing area.

Being on the dance floor usually meant that you were expected to dance.

And she was not ready to dance. At all.

First of all, she hadn’t danced in years and while Calypso usually wasn’t too self conscious about those kinds of things, she still didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of Leo and the others. Second of all, she was quite sure that people would speculate - again - if they saw her dancing with Leo and she didn’t want that. She may have told Hazel about her crush some time ago and she did trust her, but who knew what kind of connections the other people in the room had?

Suddenly she realized that she was being paranoid. The people at this party were in their late teens or early twenties and probably had never even heard of her father. And why would they care if she was dancing with him? That was a normal thing to do at parties. It didn’t automatically have to mean anything.

There were already a lot of people gathered on the dance floor when the roommates arrived there. A few were dancing a bit farther from the rest of the group, while the others were watching a pink haired girl with real tap dance shoes on showing her skills. She must have been Lavinia, Calypso concluded. And based on her determined look, she seemed ready to challenge anyone who dared to pass by into a dance battle.

“Lavi!” Hazel’s voice came from behind Calypso. “Are you showing off again?”

The group that was standing in front of Lavinia moved from her way, and Calypso got a better look at her. Her shoulder length hair was flying freely and she was wearing a purple T-shirt and black pants to go with her shoes. Calypso also noticed that even though she had stopped dancing, one of her feet still kept tapping quietly on the floor, as if she was unable to stand still.

“Sorry, Hazel. Couldn’t help myself,” Lavinia muttered, and Hazel’s expression softened a bit. Calypso was still surprised to see this side of her because usually she seemed very kind, but clearly she still had authority even over people who were way bigger and older than her whenever it was needed.

“It’s OK! But try to let the others dance too, and not just tap dance.”

“Alright,” Lavinia answered but rolled her eyes when Hazel didn’t look. Calypso could hear her whisper to the closest people: “She just doesn’t understand the art of tap dance.”

Soon after that, the people in the room started dividing into smaller groups, some trying to chat over the loud music, some dancing. Calypso and Leo tried to spot some familiar faces but Hazel had already disappeared somewhere and Frank, Nico and Rachel weren't nearby either. Just when Leo opened his mouth to ask something, Calypso noticed that Lavinia, who had stopped dancing, was approaching them.

“Hi. We haven’t met before,” Lavinia started.

“Yeah, hi. I’m Calypso. Hazel’s friend from the art classes.” She shook Lavinia’s hand and then turned towards Leo. “This is my b… flatmate Leo. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Lavinia Asimov. Hazel and I used to go to the same school,” Lavinia said, but Calypso couldn’t help but notice that even when she was shaking hands with Leo, she was actually eyeing her.

“That’s cool,” Calypso replied casually although she was starting to feel slightly weird because of the staring.

“So, Calypso, do you know how to dance?” Lavinia asked.

“Not really, I just know some very basics,” she replied. “Haven’t danced in years, to be honest.”

“I could teach you, you know,” Lavinia blurted.

“Really?” Calypso asked, slightly confused by the other girl’s eagerness.

“Sure, why not? I’m pretty good.” Lavinia grinned at her.

“Do you mean now or...?”

“Now or whenever you’d like.” The girl twirled a strand of her pink hair around her finger as she spoke.

It took Calypso a moment to realize that Lavinia was actually trying to flirt with her in her own way.

“Hold on. I’m really flattered, but… I’m already taken.” Calypso rubbed the back of her head. From the corner of her eye she could see Leo’s stance getting more relaxed when he heard her answer. “Sorry. You seem like a cool person, though.”

Lavinia seemed visibly disappointed by Calypso’s response. “Are you taken by him?” She pointed at Leo judgingly. “You could do better than that.”

Calypso wasn’t sure what to answer, given that she wasn’t supposed to reveal their secret to anyone, but to her relief Leo cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Miss Pink? We literally just met; what makes you think you know what kind of person I am? You’re right in one thing, though,” he continued before Lavinia could reply. “Namely, she is way out of my league. And her boyfriend would probably kill me if I looked at her in the wrong way.”

“But… didn’t you just say you two are flatmates?” Lavinia asked suspiciously.

“Oh, yeah,” Leo responded quickly. “Cal’s boyfriend lives far from our uni so it was more convenient for her to get a flat from somewhere nearer to it. He knows he can trust me.”

Calypso wasn’t sure what amused (and scared) her more: the lies Leo came up with or the way he managed to sound that convincing even though he was literally coming up with the story as he spoke. At least Hazel wasn’t listening because she probably wouldn’t have bought it. Eventually Calypso decided she needed to contribute to the story as well.

“Besides, my boyfriend knows that I would kick Leo’s ass if he ever did anything inappropriate.”

Calypso noticed that Leo’s mouth was twitching slightly, but he quickly pulled the poker face back on and rushed to nod along.

“Totally. I wouldn’t wanna try that.”

Lavinia finally seemed convinced enough. “Alright. Well… I think I’ll go and find something to drink now. Dancing makes me thirsty.”

“Okay, we might see you later.” Calypso nodded at her before she disappeared from view. Once they were sure that she was far enough, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Whew, she really seemed convinced we are dating,” she whispered to Leo. “I was worried she wouldn’t believe us. Also, Mister Not-boyfriend, I’ll have you know I do not approve of lying but in this case it was probably for the best. So thanks.”

Leo grinned at her. “You’re welcome. Geez, Sunshine, do you see the effect you have on people? Everyone is falling on your feet.”

Calypso blushed a bit. “It’s a bit weird… I am not used to getting attention.”

“You’ll get used to it once I shower you with the Leo love,” he whispered and Calypso blushed even harder.

“Gods, Leo! Don’t say that here!” Calypso peeked around and was relieved to see that no one they knew was nearby.

“Couldn’t resist,” he claimed but then got more serious. “Uh, so… do you think dancing would be pushing the line that we have set?”

“It probably would,” Calypso said a bit sadly. “Maybe when we’re home, though.” She added quietly.

Leo seemed pleasantly surprised by her answer. “Oh! Okay. I’ll be looking forward to that.”

“Hey, listen,” Calypso spoke again. “Maybe we should split up for a moment. Nico and Frank could probably use your company and I’d like to catch up with Hazel a bit since I haven’t had a chance yet. Is that alright with you?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Leo nodded. “I need to make sure that Nico doesn’t eat all the miniburgers from the bar.”

Calypso chuckled. “Alright. Save some for me too! I've only tasted the nachos so far!”

“I will try,” Leo replied, emphasizing the word try. “Well, see you in a bit!” He waved at her.

Once Leo had disappeared, Calypso started looking for Hazel and found her from the balcony with Rachel and a couple of other friends of hers, watching the fireworks from the distance.

“Hi, you guys,” she greeted. “Looks like nice weather for the fireworks show.”

“Yep, it is,” Hazel agreed. “So… how did your little vacation go?” She went straight to the topic, smiling at Calypso slightly mischievously. “You and Leo seemed pretty chummy over there.”

“Chummy?” Calypso laughed awkwardly. “I don’t even know what that means,” she lied, trying to use the fact that she wasn’t a native English speaker as her advantage. “But the vacation was pretty good. Sure, there were some ups and downs as you can expect when you’re spending the holidays in a new place with people you don’t know very well, but overall? I had a good time.”

“I can almost see with my own eyes what exactly happened there now…” Hazel rolled her eyes. “Come on. Give me some details. Please tell me that some progress has happened.”

“But there really is not much to tell,” Calypso insisted. “I taught Leo’s little sister Georgina some baking and sewing and stuff like that and helped with the Christmas preparations and met some new people… Oh! And Leo’s family has an animal shelter; they had some adorable dogs and cats and…”

Hazel looked less enthusiastic when she realized that Calypso really was not going to tell her any news about her and Leo.

“So… nothing really happened?” she asked.

“No,” Calypso said as convincingly as she could. “Although we did have a good talk one day and I feel that we can be more open towards each other now. But we are not together. It’s not the right time for that yet.”

Hazel tilted her head, still unconvinced. “I heard Lavinia talking about you a moment ago, though. Something about some guy not realizing how lucky he was.”

Calypso started feeling she was reaching the limits of her acting skills, but she tried her best. “I… uh, may have told her that I was taken to make things less awkward. Sorry, I know that was extremely rude of me.”

“No worries,” Hazel reassured her. “I’m sure she’ll get over it quickly. Besides, I happen to know that there’s someone she really really likes and hasn’t just found the courage to ask her out yet.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I hope she manages to do that at some point.”

The girls proceeded to talk about other things, such as Hazel’s vacation, the foster animals of Waystation and their expectations on the upcoming art classes, with Rachel joining the conversation as well. Calypso was just laughing at Rachel’s story about the many uses of a hair brush (she had used one for painting and another for threatening her teacher who had misbehaved towards her) when Nico rushed into the balcony, looking even paler than usual.

“Calypso, I think you should come. Something’s not right with Leo.”

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

[waywardrose]

On Babbushka

There is a group of well-known writers in the fandom who have been discouraged and put down by one of their own, Zannah - @babbushka​. It happens behind the scenes in DMs. It happens in posts and tags.

In DMs, she has started conversations with seemingly innocent questions. When she doesn't receive the response she was aiming for, she diverts the conversation to criticizing and humiliating the person. She has attacked writers for tagging—or not tagging—a post in a way she deems appropriate. She has gotten into arguments over how characters were portrayed and then tried to claim victimization when the other person wouldn't knuckle under.

She will appeal to her following to attack any fan or creator who has an opinion that differs from her own. She will encourage friends to send rude anons. Those same friends will also DM the target with rude remarks.

Several creators have stopped writing altogether because of their interactions with her.

We are tired of being discouraged. We are tired of being talked down to. We are tired of being bullied. Enough is enough. Under the cut we share our stories, let the chips fall where they may. It's up to you, the reader, to decide whether to support her.

We can only warn up-and-coming writers, artists, fans, and supporters of her behavior.

-

Hope - @callmehopeless

The Australian bushfires of the 2019-2020 season were nightmarish—for those living through it and those witnessing. As the season went on, cries for help increased. Joaquin Phoenix used the time during his Best-Actor acceptance speech at the Golden Globes to call for unity, action, and accountability. Regardless of what we may think of him, it was a thoughtful speech.

Hope, who is an Australian, found Mr. Phoenix's message encouraging and reblogged a gifset of his speech.

That morning, Zannah made a post about Mr. Phoenix's shady past and his association with a known sexual predator. The main reason wasn't because his speech was inappropriate or not timely, but because she didn't think he should be the one to get the attention over other actors who had spoken of the bushfires during the Golden Globes.

While Hope confessed she was scared of the bushfires, scared for her loved ones, Zannah was more concerned with purity. To Zannah it was about the face of the message, not the message itself. It didn't matter that Mr. Phoenix was amplifying support for Australia, what did matter was that he had done bad things.

It was virtue signaling on Zannah's part.

Still, this remains a complicated argument. Can a person who has done bad things actually have something positive to add to a cause? Should we listen to a problematic person if they share an insight? Does it reflect poorly on us to agree with their isolated statement? Will we be canceled, too? What about the bigger picture?

In this case, the bigger picture was hundreds of homes were destroyed in the bushfires and families were displaced. People died, thousands of animals died. And it was because of climate change. Mr. Phoenix called for his rich peers to examine their respective lifestyles and to give back.

Yes, Mr. Phoenix has done bad things. Yes, he has associated with people who have done bad things. His words resonated with people on Tumblr, and they reblogged part of his speech. He said something that gave Hope hope.

Hope was asked by a third party how they could help. She came back with a resource guide for those who wanted to send aid to Australians.

When it became obvious Zannah wouldn't silence Hope, Zannah decided to sub-post about the interaction. There, she accused Hope of being a rape apologist for reblogging a gifset and finding a little comfort in it. Zannah placed her ego before someone who was facing a very real danger.

Side-eying an actor is one thing, shaming a person you know for finding solace during a scary time is another. Hope isn't responsible for which voice got picked up. The only "colors" being shown here are Zannah's. She put her own concerns about being perceived as morally pure above actually supporting a friend.

I'll keep this brief - I knew Zannah for many years. And on one of the lowest weeks of my life, when my suburb was burning down and I feared for my family: she convinced me I was a rape apologist for sharing Joaquin Phoenix's speech asking for action on bushfires. In all my life, I never felt more alone. To add insult to injury, she then posted memes mocking me - something that has stuck with me to this day.

I've had dear friends quit the fandom because of her kinkshaming. I've had people I love message me distraught over what she's said.

Enough is enough.

— @callmehopeless

-

Rose - @the-wayward-rose​

This PM exchange started after I tagged my reblog of Zannah's fic Feast (Cameron Bistle x Reader) with cw: white reader. I had been on her taglist, and I wanted to show support because I liked the fic overall. For context, the reason for my tag is because of this sentence:

"But then you're blushing so pretty and squeezing his hand affectionately and reaching for the handle to the passenger side of his car, and then you're laughing when he swats your hand away to open it for you, and then you're beckoning him down as if to ask a question – only to place a chaste kiss to his lips instead."

This is from Cameron's point of view.

She asked the reason for the tag, and I explained it was because of the use of "blush" to describe Reader's appearance.

She misunderstood my premise. I did not mean only white people blush.

According to Merriam-Webster, blush means "a reddening of the face especially from shame, modesty, or confusion" or "a red or rosy tint."

It is an autonomic response, though. It happens in all humans for body cooling and nonverbal communication. The main problem with using it universally is that melanin obscures the appearance of said autonomic response.

Here's an example of three runners:

The two pale women, left and center, are pink in the face. They are blushing. The woman of color on the right is likely blushing, too. However, the melanin in her skin obscures the blood in her cheeks. She is not pink.

That's the pitfall of the word "blush." The observer can't always see it. We know what it feels like. We all do it. The face and/or neck gets hot. The use of "blush" is shorthand in narrative, and I understand that. Nevertheless, when writing to cater to a reader-insert audience of unknown heritage, writers need to consider describing with universal terms.

Again, she misunderstood my premise. I clarified by asking how Cameron sees the Reader blush under an abundance of melanin:

She sidestepped the physiological explanation to go straight for justification. She tried to legitimize "blush" as "perhaps [this]" or "perhaps [that]" when I stated earlier that blush by definition is pink or is to redden. That's the logic. A noncommittal, covering-all-the-bases, complicated defense diluted the conversation.

With her earlier "I have friends of color, hence I can't be exclusionary" statement, I wasn't sure she would get my point. I take full responsibility for not explaining, too. I should've asked for some time to gather my thoughts, but I didn't. Truthfully, I was unprepared, because I didn't think my insignificant tag would be an issue.

Also, I was confused why she was trying to police my blog.

Her replies came rapidly—before I could mention my confusion—and felt aggressive in the moment. Maybe that wasn't her intention, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

That doesn't take away from the fact that words have meaning. It's why we use specific words. It's not understood in the narrative that her use of "blush" could mean a bunch of things. If I had known, I wouldn't have tagged as I did. How is a reader of color supposed to know that? How does Cameron see Reader's blush if she has darker skin?

As writers, we don't know who is reading. Someone could be very pale or very dark. A person with medium-toned skin can turn a shade of pink or red. A person with darker-toned skin will not. We can't assume all readers are medium to pale. We need to develop better writing skills. We have to include everyone.

Readers of color > White-writer feelings

When I stood my ground, she doubled down, stating I made no sense in my tagging and that I lacked the ability to learn from her. She then diverted the argument, attacking a ficlet I wrote a few days beforehand—which had nothing to do with this argument. The Christian imagery in that ficlet was upsetting to her and "in such poor taste" because she headcanons Flip Zimmerman (BlacKkKlansman) is 100% culturally and ethnically Jewish.

Flip stated in the movie:

"I'm Jewish, but I wasn't raised to be. It wasn't part of my life. I never thought much about being Jewish. Nobody around me was Jewish. I wasn't going to a bunch of Bar Mitzvahs. I didn't have a Bar Mitzvah. I was just another white kid. And now I'm in some basement denying it out loud[...] I never thought much about it. Now I'm thinking about it all the time. About rituals and heritage. Is that passing? Well then, I have been passing."

By his own admission, Flip is ethnically Jewish, but not culturally. These are two separate things, and that should be recognized. While Judaism is ethnically and culturally entwined in ways that other religions are not, one does not equate the other. You can be one and not the other.

At the time, I didn't want her to sic her 3000+ followers on me. I wasn't going to argue further. I asked myself if the ficlet was important and worth anon-hate and realized, no, it wasn't. It was a throw-away.

And since I'm not culturally Jewish, maybe I had misstepped. And since Zannah is both culturally and ethnically Jewish, I asked for her guidance.

She flatly refused my request. I don't know how I was supposed to learn from her if she wouldn't teach me.

It sounded as if she wanted me to delete the whole fic. Like none of it was worth saving because it hadn't been Zannah-approved. I had gone against her headcanon, and the fic was too offensive to fix.

The last sentence was supposed to cover her back from criticism, and it placed all the responsibility on me. Obviously, she was above such petty concerns as someone else's blog or writing. Never mind that she had just attempted to get me to change my tagging system and rewrite my ficlet. On my blog.

Later, I figured out she was only criticizing and not offering a constructive critique. Her argument was not in good faith. It was retaliation for not giving her the obedience she thought she was owed.

This is the passage that offended her:

"It’s because of the way he fucks you. Like it’s confession—though he’s never been much of a church-going man. Every touch, every thrust, is a truth between you. Even when it’s rough and greedy. It feels like flagellation when you claw his back. He wears the sin proudly."

This is what I edited it to:

"It’s because of the way he fucks you. Every touch, every thrust, is a truth between you. Even when it’s rough and greedy. It feels like flagellation when you claw his back. He wears your marks proudly."

Yeah, I'm not pleased with the revised passage. It's lost its teeth, but I keep it.

The anonymous message(s) she mentioned weren't very anonymous, either. Unfortunately, I've since deleted the two messages. I had apologized to Anon for disappointing them. I said that if the fic was too much, they should unfollow and block me. I meant that in a self-care way. At the same time, I did not—and do not—owe anyone discourse. I don't have to explain my art when it doesn't hurt anyone. And no one was hurt by some purportedly misplaced religious imagery.

I have been silent about this since late January/early February. I was embarrassed. I had been bullied into changing my blog and my fic by someone who proclaims to never do anything of the sort. I had been a fool. Since this conversation with her, I have been blocked/blacklisted by third-parties, most likely at her behest, when none of this exchange had been necessary.

-

Kassanovella - @kylorengarbagedump​​

Zannah's followers have asked her about Kassanovella’s Fix Your Attitude. For context, it's currently one of the most kudo-ed fics for Kylo Ren x Reader on AO3. It had a bit of a renaissance earlier in 2020 because a TikToker wrote a song for it.

There is nothing wrong with not wanting to read a fic. If the subject matter doesn't work for a reader, they don't have to partake. Easy as that. So, these tags aren't a problem.

However, it led to this...

She lashed out, calling Kassanovella's fic a joke. A joke.

She implied her fics should be as popular as Kassanovella's because she works really hard on them. She admitted she's tied to the metrics. She implied she wouldn't be writing fic if not for the external validation.

Here's the thing about fanfic: readers like what they like. They don't care about a writer's effort. They only know what works for them. They comment and give kudos, reblog and like what they connect with. That is not under the writer's control. All a writer can do is try their best and concentrate on what they're passionate about.

To bash another writer's fic because it's popular is disrespectful. This whole bitter rant drips of entitlement and is an affront to Kassanovella.

Some time later, an incident happened in a chatroom during a streaming event for veterans by Arts In the Armed Forces (Adam Driver's organization). At least one fan brought up Fix Your Attitude while waiting for Mr. Driver to make an appearance. They were also disrespectful towards the other presenters by demanding to see Mr. Driver. It caused a big stink within the fandom, and Zannah had some choice words.

While mentioning the fic during the livestream was inappropriate, it was also inappropriate to throw all fans of the fic under the bus as she did in her tag. Sweeping generalizations and incriminations of a subset of fans certainly reads as if she resents those fans for a perceived slight.

Next, Zannah made an earlier disparaging comment about Kassanovella's fic, Little Bird. Unfortunately, that comment is lost. However, the messages supporting the comment remain. (For context, Little Bird is a Kylo Ren x Reader The Handmaid's Tale AU. It has been well received in the fandom, earning thousands of kudos on AO3.)

What an author wants to write about and sexualize is their business. Fantasizing about being dominated by Kylo Ren isn't cringe. It's a sexual fantasy. Some sexual fantasies can be disturbing to those who do not share the same kink.

Sexual fantasies are like ice cream. There's a reason why there are different flavors.

Also, "I will never ever be a person that tells an author what to do or not do" is an absolute lie. As evident in this post, Zannah most definitely tells authors what to do or not do.

Again, she bashes Kassanovella, claiming her writing isn't good. Her motivation for bashing Kassanovella can only be speculation. With Zannah's previously stated opinion of Fix Your Attitude, though, it indicates a certain level of negative emotions.

-

Anonymous

An anonymous person came forward with a case of Zannah policing their blog. Anon has a sideblog for their personal AU with Flip Zimmerman. They reblog gifsets and post headcanons. They were an enthusiastic fan of Zannah's and reblogged a few of the gifset she made. Anon tagged their reactions, and Zannah blocked them for it.

Anon went to Zannah and asked why they were blocked, because all they wanted to do was have fun and support fellow Flip lovers.

Anon was under the impression that because they were shipping themselves, and not Zannah, with Flip, she blocked them. Their personal AU doesn't align with Zannah's headcanon that she alone is married to this character and has his children.

While Zannah's reply may sound innocent, and perhaps it is, it also speaks to someone who has set herself up as the owner of Flip Zimmerman. (Wait until Spike Lee or the real Ron Stallworth hears about that...) It appears that if a fan does not comply with the Zannah-approved headcanon, where only she is married to Flip, that fan shall be blocked. If a fan uses tags on their blog that she does not approve of, that fan will be blocked.

Zannah's policing is disturbing. Going into a blog to look for something as a reason to block is disturbing. Any fan is allowed to use any tag on their blog how they wish. If the OP has said their post can be reblogged, how a reblogger tags is beyond the OP's control. To punish that reblogger for not behaving in a way she finds acceptable is uncalled for and unjust.

-

Anonymous

Backstory: Zannah does not view Ben Solo's arc in the Star Wars sequel trilogy as acceptable canon. However, she does view the story she created for Flip Zimmerman in BlacKkKlansman as completely canon.

This is not the first time she has been asked to clarify her position. Nor is it the first time she has avoided giving an on-topic response. A question asked in good faith should be responded to in kind.

If a creator doesn't want to address the issue, they can state that they don't. Deflecting from the question only muddies the waters. Fans feel dismissed. The creator feels hounded, and comes across as irritated and unapproachable. No one has a positive fandom experience.

There is nothing wrong with having a headcanon. What is wrong is Zannah mandating her headcanon for Flip on the whole fandom. As evident in this post, if a fan does not comply with her headcanon, they will be summarily blocked.

Also, there is nothing wrong with rejecting canon. Writers of transformative works have always done this. The problem is shaming fans who have accepted canon while not offering justification for that shaming. A creator saying they "can't help them" is the creator washing their hands of responsibility from articulating their thoughts when they themselves began criticizing the canon in the first place.

Again, this is a bad-faith argument. Creators can't ask for discussion and attention and then get mad when their viewpoints are challenged. Just because a discussion isn't going a creator's way doesn't mean it's an attack, either. It means people want clarification, and if one criticizes, they should be able to back up their criticisms.

-

While sharing our stories has been freeing, it's not our aim as fellow fans to cancel Zannah. We would hope she would take the opportunity to reflect on the damage she has done to the fandom. We hope we all can move forward with a more approachable and supportive scene.

No one person speaks for our fandom. The actions of one fan do not represent the entire fandom. Whether creator or consumer, you are welcome here.

[posted July 25, 2020]

#babbushka #reader insert #flip zimmerman x reader #kylo ren x reader

[joontier]

The King’s Guard | Chapter 5

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

rating (chapter): NC-17 | genre: fluff, humor, aNGST

warnings: DRAMA, swearing, slight violence depicting a fight

word count: 5.8k

g/n: HAFLKAJSFKLASFLAKSJFLAPWO. That is all I have to say. Thank you for listening to my TED talk. 

The King’s Guard - Masterlist  ||  navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 5 

The highly anticipated Chuseok Festival finally arrives – and you can practically feel the thickness of excitement in the air. There’s already a stead beat of the drums from a distance and you can picture the people bustling around, each borne with a task just as significant as the other.

Much to your agitation, your body won’t seem to cooperate with you on the day you need to work the most. You’ve risen early dawn this time with a sick feeling in your stomach, and ever since Chaeyoung caught you throwing up in bed, you hadn’t been able to sleep another wink.

“Call the royal physician,” you order meekly to the worried court lady beside you, messily wiping away the remnants of your state of unwellness this morning. As you shift your position so your back is resting comfortably against the wall, you close your eyes and take deep breaths, praying for your lightheadedness to go away anytime soon.

“Could it be, Jungjeon-mama?” Chaeyoung whispers, eyes wide and hopeful.  

“Perhaps, Chaeyoung. Perhaps.”

As the court lady stands up to leave, you grab hold of Chaeyoung’s wrist. “Under no circumstance should you tell anyone of my condition. Please. If they insist, make them work in the kitchen for the entire morning.”

As Chaeyoung quietly exits the hanok, sliding the doors behind her, Jungkook and Yoongi call her attention from the stairs, startling the poor court lady out of her wits. At the surprise, her footing gives way, but Hoseok deftly catches her in his arms. The two lock eyes for the first time since the southerners had arrived in the capitol, and the general finds himself staring at the court lady more than he can admit. Chaeyoung, seemingly just as lost in the general’s eyes, subconsciously gulps as she feels Hoseok’s grip on her waist tighten a little.

Yoongi coughs ultimately bringing the two back to reality. Ever the hopeless romantic, the smile on Jungkook’s face falters, scowling at his brother for ruining the moment, and of course, at his hyung’s incapability to allow people to enjoy themselves even just for a while.

The two abruptly stand up, poorly averting their gazes somewhere else. The general retreats to his place beside the southern king, while Chaeyoung busies herself with smoothing the invisible creases on her dang-jeogori.

“Has the queen risen already?” “Is Jungjeon-mama awake?” The brothers ask in unison, both looking at the court lady expectantly. Chaeyoung is momentarily taken aback by their sudden concern, but is quickly reminded of your strict orders.

“The queen is already awake, but she wishes to be left alone to pray for a little while.” Feeling slightly defeated, the two start to depart from the entrance of your hanok. The court lady, willing to test all of her luck today, thinks of a brilliant idea to get the three to help out with the palace’s very own Chuseok preparations. “She did mention something though, in case you would have been looking for her this morning…” Yoongi looks at her with a raised brow, “Jungjeon-mama requests for your assistance with something.”

Jungkook nods, ready to be of help with anything, especially when it concerns you. Meanwhile, Hoseok looks at Yoongi warily, unsure if his king was willing to do you a favor. “Of course. It’s the least way we can show our gratitude for having welcomed us warmly at the capitol.”

Smiling widely, Chaeyoung bows her head a little to show her thanks, “Very well. Would you all please accompany me to the palace kitchen?”

Thankfully, the royal physician arrives quickly even on such a short notice. Yunho leaves shortly after escorting the visitor, leaving you some privacy with royal physician Kim Taehyung in your room. The usually bright man sets his things on the table beside your bed and pulls a chair next to you.

“Ah, Jungjeon-mama it’s been a while since I last saw you. Tell me, what truly happened that it suddenly warrants my presence in the palace?” Taehyung asks, rummaging through his bag.

“Everything is just fine and dandy, Taehyung. How about you? Have you been well? We haven’t met each in a long time!”

“I believe I should be the one asking questions here, Mama. And if by “fine and dandy” you mean waking up from your slumber just to throw up, then all of my studies would have been put to waste.”

Unable to stop your giggles at his remark, you thank him silently for his visit. The royal physician’s presence always brings such a light mood wherever he may be.

Despite being the only brother of the reserved Kim Namjoon, these two were as close as two peas in a pod even when they have contrasting personalities. While Namjoon was more on the timid side, Taehyung was more playful and cheery – the two siblings polar opposites but it all seems to work out for the better.

The two brothers are distant cousins of Seokjin, hence their inclusion in the higher nobility class who freely visited the capitol’s palace. You hadn’t officially met Taehyung until you were wed to Seokjin but you weren’t a stranger to the stories your husband used to tell you about their notorious trio.

Most of the older court ladies had confirmed their reputations as major headaches while they were still kids growing inside the palace. The three would escape from their assigned guardians of the day, roam the city and would not come back until it’s time to eat, and run off to play one more time.

Adolescence took their time from each other, as this would usually be the time when boys would take lessons and become apprentices of their parents’ choosing. With Seokjin taking significantly different lessons from the other two as heir to the throne, the time they used to spend running away was now dedicated to learning the way of the scholars, swordsmanship, and politics.

“Playing was for kids anyways,” King Seokwoo would say as Seokjin gazed at the other boys his age who were free to do as they pleased. It saddened Seokjin to have let go of his youthful years like that, but with the great guidance of his father, the young man accepted his fate as the next king in line.

“Wangbi, if you don’t mind…I need you to take off your jeogori as I have to check your pulses properly.” With a hand reaching out to the ribbon on your dress but you stop midway as you notice the royal physician still staring at you. You blink owlishly at him, hoping he gets the message. “Oh! Right! Sorry, Mama.” He apologizes sheepishly before turning around to let you undress the outer garment.

You tap him on the shoulder once you’re done and as Taehyung turns around to face you, he looks anywhere but your eyes. “It’s alright, Taehyung. You can…look. I’m not exactly naked after all…” Stating matter-of-factly, you point a finger at your undergarments, still affording you an adequate amount of modesty. Your reassurance only serves to make the awkwardness in the air more palpable. “Sorry, that didn’t help, did it?”

“No, Mama,” he laughs, although admittedly endeared by your concern to make him as comfortable as possible, “But you don’t have to apologize, I am the physician after all and it is my duty to properly check my patients, so I was bound to ask that at some point.”

“Sorry,” you apologize meekly, again, and the both of you burst into peals of laughter. “I will check your pulse now, Mama,” you nod, sitting up straighter.

Taehyung places two of his fingers on your neck, just below your jaw as he checks your pulse. He remains quiet as he transfers them onto your wrist, humming as he observes your pulse one more time. The royal physician takes out a scroll and a brush from his bag and borrows an ink block nearby. Brows furrowed in concentration, Taehyung starts recording his observations.

“I will be asking a few personal questions, Mama. Please do not worry much for only I will be seeing this scroll, and what we have discussed today will only be between you and me – you know, physician and patient confidentiality.” He gives you a warm smile, one you cannot help but return.

“Have you been intimate with the King recently?”

His query definitely throws you off guard, but not because of reasons it ought to be. You’re surprised at how much of the truth his question was going require from you. Needless to say, your acts of unfaithfulness had never struck you as hard as it did today.

You hesitate for a moment, hoping your momentary silence would not be taken wrongly by the royal physician. You decide on answering the physician with half the truth. “Yes.”

“And have you bled during the past full moon?”

“No.” He nods, humming as he continues to write his diagnosis on the scroll. Taehyung pauses as he thinks for a moment, then gets on with jotting down some more. Finally, he takes out two small woven pouches from his bag and hands them to you.

“I need you to pee over these seeds, Mama, as they will determine the truth of your present condition. I will have my apprentice collect them later. I shall be able to conclude the results in a few days’ time, even though I think you and I already both know the answer. For the meantime, I need you to rest and eat plenty, my Queen. You’re going to need it.”

Silence suddenly blankets over the kitchen as Chaeyoung appears with three men behind her who all seem to cower under the unprecedented stare of the ladies in the kitchen.

“Gungnyeonim-dul, please continue with your chores. Jeonha, his general and our captain had come to assist us with the preparations – as recommended by Jungjeon-mama.”

The ladies of the kitchen, with too many tasks at hand and with even less unwillingness to question your orders, curtly bow in greeting to the three before going continuing their chores. Hoseok grimaces inwardly at the sight, knowing very well he’s just going to end up embarrassing himself in the kitchen.

The two brothers, who equally had experience helping their mother in the kitchen, likewise guided by her wise words ‘cooking is a life skill everybody must learn, regardless of gender’ head over to one corner to rinse their hands. Hoseok follows suit after an awkwardly escaping from a staring match with an elderly court lady.

Jungkook spots Haesoo across the room and as the captain sends her a small smile, Haesoo’s cheeks flush, getting shy at the small forbidden interaction. “It seems like everybody already knows what they have to do. Is there anything else we could help with?”

Yoongi speaks up, offering an idea, “This is the perfect time to boast about our city then – as the south makes the best songpyeons in the whole of Korea. Perhaps a southerner’s touch can make the capitol’s better? Not that I’m saying your rice cakes are worse, but…” Yoongi shrugs, raising the cover of a pot to check what’s boiling inside.

“As you wish, jeonha,” Chaeyoung bows, heading over to one of the tables to grab the ingredients needed. “’Least way to show your gratitude’,” Jungkook huffs, mocking his older brother’s words. “Really? By openly telling the cooks their cakes are bad? Inside the kitchen?”

“You and I both know mother’s songpyeons are better even without having to use the fancy ingredients they use here.”

Jungkook sighs in defeat, knowing his brother only spoke the truth. Nothing beats the south’s rice cakes. “Yes, I know. But you really did not have to—” The sound of food falling onto the floor causes everyone to look at culprit who’s holding onto a log used as a cutting board as a shield from an elderly court lady.

“I’m sorry, gungnyeo-nim! Please don’t hurt me!”

The old woman glares at poor Hoseok, who’s still holding onto the cutting board for dear life. “You call yourself a general, yet I’m still better with knives than you.” Hoseok looks at Yoongi, desperate for help, but the king of the south shakes his head as he laughs at his general.

Taehyung offers to walk you to the kitchen as soon as you deem yourself ready to face the day, much to your adamance, and Taehyung’s dismay. You’d caught yourself up with the cheery physician’s life on the way to the kitchen, and as you were laughing at a certain story of his patient Taehyung was animatedly talking about, you notice a crowd of court ladies standing by the entrance of the kitchen.

The physician’s supposed punchline falls into deaf ears when you ask what was going on inside that was enough to have court ladies gather around like this. The court lady you asked won’t even bother to look at you, to engrossed in whatever she was looking at inside. “See for yourself – it’s the captain and the king of the south competing about who can knead the dough better, though I’m pretty sure it’s us ladies who are enjoying it very much,” she says, pouting her lips as she nods to the two inside.

Taehyung holds his laughter in as he sees your confused expression, and tries to see the match for himself. How did they even get here in the first place? What were they doing in the kitchen and what’s with kneading the dough?

As you finally take a peek inside, your mouth drops slightly in shock as you see, lo and behold, Jungkook and Yoongi busy with kneading the dough. But, that’s definitely not what caught everyone else’s attention. The two had taken off their jeogoris, both now left in their sleeveless undergarments, with their sinewy arms on display.

You can’t stop the blood rushing to your cheeks as you catch yourself staring at them – or their arms rather. “Would you excuse me, please,” you call out to the women in front of you who were crowding the front door. “But we’re still-“ the court lady turns to complain, but as soon as she sees you, she immediately kneels. “Jungjeon-mama!” The others hear and soon follow suit.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” You reassure them, understanding where the momentary distraction was coming from. They make way for you, and as you enter, you spot Chaeyoung by a table, likewise watching the competition between the two.

“Chaeyoung,” you call the court lady who immediately bows as she turns to face you. “Please enlighten me how these two got here.”

The young court lady then proceeds to tell you how she managed to coax the two into helping with the Chuseok preparations. From initially having different tasks, they eventually got to do this together instead after so many arguments on which colors should the rice cakes be, what filling should be best inside, court lady Oh suggested they do something that won’t cause any further unhelpful squabbles.

You exhale deeply, already wondering how long this day was going to be.

The first day of Chuseok goes by pretty well, spending the rest of your afternoon, leaving the palace grounds to visit your subjects to wish them a good harvest. Apparently, the competition between the captain and the southern king didn’t end with the dough. The whole time they insisted on joining you as you pay your citizens a visit was also a competition guised as accompaniment.

It’s been a long day and as much as you wanted to relieve yourself of your aching legs from all the walking, you realized you still had a few scrolls to catch up on, so you head to Seokjin’s office to read a few before retiring to your room.

“Jungjeon-mama! Jungjeon-mama!” Astronomer Lee runs as fast as his feet could carry him, running towards your office in stunted breaths. He sees Yoongi coming from the other end of the hanok, bowing briefly in his direction before demanding the royal guards outside your hanok to let him in.

“Her Royal Highness doesn’t want to be disturbed right now.” Two guards bar him from entering the court, using their bodies to stop the anxious astronomer from coming in.

“No! No! Please, it’s an emergency! Jungjeon-mama!”

As you continue your reading, you give one look at Yunho who curtly bows before you before heading outside to check the commotion. As soon as Yunho steps out of the hanok, the astronomer clings onto his arms, frantically tugging at his sleeves.

Worry crosses Yunho’s features, not expecting the astronomer’s arrival at all. Minho would only come visit you only, and only if you called for his presence. He was never one to pay regular visits, nor was he expected to run to court, all the while screaming out your title.

Minho attempts to peek through the doors that were slid open, waving his arms to get your attention. Yunho blocks him promptly, “My sincerest apologies, astronomer Lee, but we are under strict orders of the queen to not let anyone disturb her at the moment.” The guard extends a hand out, placing it on the astronomer’s chest to prevent him from taking another step.

“Let him in,” comes your authoritative voice from inside. With a sigh, Yunho makes way, but not before Minho pushing away the former’s arm harshly from his chest.

Minho, seemingly distraught as ever, calls for you once more before falling on his knees. “Jungjeon-mama…apologies, disturbance…must see…”

“Astronomer Lee, breathe. Please,” Jungkook advises as he nears him, placing a hand on his back. The astronomer shakes his head furiously in reply, despite having difficulty catching his breath.

Likewise taking advantage of the open doors, Yoongi enters with Hoseok quietly, much to Yunho’s dismay. But all eyes and ears are focused on the astronomer right now, whose current state is worrying all around him. The pair of southerners warily watches the astronomer while Jungkook silently eyes his brother sideways, jaw clenching at the unwanted presence of his hyung.

“What brings you to the court, Minho?” Standing up from your seat, you descend slowly down the stairs from the throne. You take the astronomer’s queasiness, getting more anxious at his actions. The usually reserved Minho was never one to take a hurried pace, much less scream your title loud enough from the whole palace to hear in the middle of the day.

He lifts a bag with trembling hands – like the small pouch has demanded from him great effort to carry such a thing. With every moment that passes, trepidation gets heavier inside the room.

“What’s inside the bag?”

Minho opens his mouth to reply, but nothing else comes out but a deep exhale so you nod to Jungkook, signaling him to tell him to check what’s inside. Maintaining your distance, you watch the captain untie the knot, hand dipping inside to feel its contents.

Craning his head to check what’s inside, you instantly see Jungkook hesitate with his actions so you take a step closer, fear slowly gradually taking over your thoughts. He pulls out a garment, a blood-stained blue and pink durumagi in his hands. You’d recognize those clothes anywhere.

Seokjin.

Everything around you seem to stop altogether, including your heart. You snatch the clothes from the captain’s grasp, falling to your knees as you clutch the fabric close to your chest.

Minho’s head falls as you let out a scream that resonates throughout the entire hanok, your cry audible even in the neighboring ones. Hoseok looks away, while Jungkook calls you, reaching out his hand to your knelt position on the floor.

The grief that spreads throughout your body is indescribable, like your heart has been ripped from your chest and crushed right in front of your face. Your vision is blurry and tears are flowing freely down your cheeks. Even with daily prayers and offerings to your ancestors, your worst fear has come true, and at the worst time possible.

Memories of your husband flood your thoughts, all of which end with the vivid image of Seokjin’s lifeless body.

“Leave,” you order weakly, voice muffled against the blood-stained garments of your husband. Nobody moves, undoubtedly shell-shocked at the news. Jungkook notices Yoongi and Hoseok share a look, and the captain balls his fists as he keeps his anger at bay, just knowing these two have something to do with the king’s death.

Your order seems to fall into deaf ears of those in front of you – torn between wanting to reach out and comfort you, but at the same time, also wanting to give you the space you deserve. You don’t give them a choice. “I said leave! All of you, out. Now!”

The guards inside file out one by one first, the two southerners follow after Minho, and Jungkook was the last to leave, looking back at you before sliding the doors closed.

The world seemingly just crashes down on you when you’re finally alone in Seokjin’s office. The weight of his loss brings you bending your body further, closer to the wooden floor. Sobbing with all your might, you yearn for your husband with all the energy left inside you.

Chest heaving as you wipe at your tear-stained cheeks, you head to your husband’s throne on your knees. You don’t even make it to the second step, bursting into another round of tears. With blurry vision, you look up at his chair, imagining he’s seated right in front of you as you call out to him.

You sob, silently pleading him to come back to you, to have him in your arms one last time. “Why did you have to leave me alone like this?” People would assume you’re talking to yourself, but you sure hope Seokjin was listening somehow, someway.

As you bring the garments close to your face, the strong metallic smell of blood hits your senses harshly, but you could care less – desperate to feel the presence of your husband one way or another. “You should’ve listened to me, my love. I already told you they were going to hurt you,” you scold his throne, wishing Seokjin was listening.

‘You told me you wanted to start a family; we could have had as many children as you wanted.’ As you gaze at the inanimate garments of your husband, you force a smile onto your face, yet in mere seconds your features distort into grief once more.

As soon as the rest of the guards and the two southerners leave the room, Jungkook tells Yunho to do his rounds by the western gates. Your attempt to keep your grieving inaudible to those outside the hanok only causes Jungkook’s heart all the more, wishing you had allowed him to stay inside to at least hold you while you cried.

The captain waits until Yunho is out of his sight before trailing after his brother. “You!” Jungkook calls out, surging towards Yoongi. The present king of the south, still unaware of what is, or who is, rather, coming onto him. Hoseok feels someone else’s presence behind them and stops the infuriated captain just in time, blocking Jungkook from hurling himself at the king of the south.

Jungkook doesn’t let the southern general stop him, delivering a punch straight to Hoseok’s face. The older man staggers backwards at the strength. Jungkook jabs at his brother afterwards and throws another, bringing them both to the ground. Hoseok quickly recovers, pulling the captain and his wrath away from Yoongi.

“What the fuck is your problem, Captain?” Hoseok hisses as he touches his now bruising cheek, moving to shield his king as he stares Jungkook down.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you both that? You come here to the palace to…to…” ‘Fuck the only woman I love before my very own eyes.’ The words die in his mouth. Jungkook clears his throat, regaining his composure. “Should I believe that it’s purely coincidence that you arrived here just when Seokjin left the palace because of you?”

Yoongi scoffs loudly, dabbing at the corner of his lips, feeling a wound slowly forming. “Why does everyone actually think we’re the ones responsible for this?” Jungkook gets taken aback, quickly hiding the surprise on his face upon hearing his brother’s words. “What do you mean by that?” the Captain asks, rubbing at his now bruising knuckles.

“What else do you think it means, Captain Jung?”

Hoseok doesn’t mean to interrupt, but the nosy general couldn’t help it – “Jung?! We’re from the same clan? Are you perhaps the son of the infamous Jung Minseok? The same man my King has slain?”

“No, he’s not,” Yoongi answers, giving his brother a knowing look. Jungkook rolls his eyes. Was Yoongi expecting a ‘thank you’ from him for answering his general’s inquiry? “You still haven’t answered my question, southern king,” Jungkook continues, muttering about Yoongi always having to answer in riddles. He was smart, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’d have to regard everyone as a scholar like him.

“I told you to stay in the south, and we could’ve risen to power with no obstacle. Now, I’m guessing you’re not entirely enjoying being the clueless captain now, are you?”

“I am not clueless. I know for a fact that it’s your city that’s causing all this turmoil and you’re here to cover up the fact that you’re the one who killed him. I know, Yoongi, because I also sent someone to check on the king’s troops so—”

“I wasn’t the one who killed him. We may have encountered each other on the way here and I may also have wounded him, but it wasn’t me who killed him.”

“You… and you didn’t even bother…helping him?”

Jungkook immediately regrets his question, wanting to probe the southerners, but unfortunately sounding unintelligent while at it. “I wanted to, but how could I possibly have when we were both attacked?”

“And who would have wanted to attack the two kings of powerful cities at the same time?”

“I am not certain of that fact yet, but I will get to the end of this sooner or later.”

Jungkook stares at him intently, silently pondering on his brother’s words. At this point, he could no longer tell if his brother was bluffing or not. “Why am I supposed to believe you?”

“You know me well, Jeon Jungkook. Lying is not one of my best traits. Especially not to you.”

“Jeon…” whispers Hoseok from the side, connecting the dots together. It couldn’t be. The southern general’s eyes widen in realization – curious orbs darting back and forth between the two. It couldn’t have been possible? Or could it now? Was the Captain of the King’s guards really the lost brother of Yoongi?

Only few people knew of how Yoongi came to be the king of the south, and even fewer people knew that he had a younger brother, one to succeed the throne, lest something happens to the present southern king.

“Wangseje,” Hoseok bows immediately, acknowledging the presence of the southern city’s crown prince.

It’s been a couple of days since the news of your husband’s death, and inevitably, your duty calls for a council meeting for a discussion. 

Even before you reach the doors, you already hear the councilmen talking within themselves in hushed voices. These men never learn. They gossip just as much as their nosy wives. Nodding to the guards, they push both panels of the door open at the same time, the sudden noise startling the entire council. They scurry towards their positions and form a straight line to acknowledge your presence.

You walk slowly down the aisle they’ve provided, watching every man in the room, yet not a single member dares to look you in the eyes. You find it strangely hilarious that these men are brave enough to spread rumors about you behind your back, but once you’re in the room, they’re as quiet as the little rats that occasionally pay the palace grounds a visit. Oh, right, you’re still talking about the advisors.  

“Jungjeon-mama.” They bow, greeting you in chorus. The head of the royal advisors, Chief Advisor Park steps forward. “Jungjeon-mama, we are saddened by your loss,” he states lowly, bowing from the waist. The rest of the council follow suit. Just your loss? What about the country that had just lost its king? During the most anticipated festival of the year on top of that? What about the citizens who will no longer have a ruler who was ready to sacrifice his life for the sake of their safety? What about the lives of your people that will be put into care of these filthy, lying men?”

“Ah, such a great loss of our country as well, my Queen. King Seokjin was a ruler that will never be forgotten.” The relatively young man adds. You’re thankful that your mourning cap provides you with a fine sheath of silk that covers your face, or else the entire room would have seen your face contorted in anger.

You sigh exasperatedly, albeit quietly. Just the presence of these pompous men already makes you want to retire to bed at once – royal protocols be damned. “Our loyalty and support remain with you during these trying times, Jungjeon-mama.” Their sugar-coated words of encouragement continue, lie after lie after lie. You resist the urge to laugh at their empty statements.

What kind of pathetic fool did they take you for?

The death of your husband might have brought about an immense weight of emotion on your shoulders but your personal sentiments are not to be mistaken as a deterrent from your royal duties. You may be a widowed queen now, but that fact never made you any less of your title.

You start to seriously consider wearing this headwear more than special occasions so you can freely make faces at people who are courageous enough to lie through their teeth in front of you.

“Daebi-mama,” Slightly grimacing at your new title, you tilt your head a little, urging him to continue to voice out his concern. “The news of King’s Seokjin’s passing had not been announced yet, under your orders, but we must address to you the imminent worries if our citizens, Daebi-mama.”

Here it goes, the words determining the wretched fate of women in the country. “As you are well aware, a king’s absence may be seen as a sign of vulnerability – a sign of weakness that has been proven throughout history.” Chief Advisor Park Jimin holds his stare – a look that speaks in volumes. He knows you, out of all people, would know that fact. It is, after all, the incipient cause of your existence.

Even though he has chosen his words with caution so as not to reveal his intended denotation, is he not aware that you can see straight through his words that are dripping with ingenuine concern for your people?

Just as if the rest of the council hear your thoughts, Advisor Kim adds, joining Park “Please do not misunderstand, Mama. We do not wish to contend or question your sitting on the throne…” You swore, if he did not only share your husband’s surname and thus having been regarded as a distant member of Seokjin’s family tree, you would have dismissed this uselessly man from his duties a long time ago. At least you have proof that they are somewhat genuinely related: they both can’t look straight in your eyes when lying.

Advisor Oh joins from the other side of the aisle. Ah, the infamous lying trio. “We worry for your safety too, Jungjeon-mama.” Oh, really now? The rest of the men share murmurs of agreement. Chief Advisor Park adds to the older man’s statement, “If you don’t mind me saying, Mama…we fear the king of the south might be…overstaying his welcome.”

“He won’t be able to do anything anytime soon, and not while I’m still sitting on the throne.”

“Jungjeon-mama, I hope you understand that this is a pressing matter. The country desperately needs a king right now.” Oh adds, getting a few nods from the council. Do these people really comprise the council? Or it’s just three people who brought their coerced worshippers along with them?

“I am well aware of what sort of dishonorable duty this society has imposed upon women, I, of all people would be most knowledgeable on that,” you reiterate your point.

“Unless we have an heir to the throne, my Queen, the city will remain in unrest.” There’s the truth they’ve been itching to tell you. Did they really have to go through all those lies just to get to this point? As Chief Advisor Park takes another step forward, Jungkook moves as well, hand already on hilt of this sword, ready to wield his weapon just in case the former decides to move closer.

Yoongi, who was passing by the court heard your voice, deftly sliding a window slightly open to see you. If he thought you were endearing when you were drunk, there was nothing else compared to his attraction towards you now that you were seated on your husband’s throne.

It’s the only place you were only ever meant to be, nurtured and trained to be the queen, and an even better wife of the king. Too bad it wasn’t him on the throne, yet.

When you raise a hand at the captain, he backs away, fixing his sword back to its scabbard. Park Jimin smirks. “I would be most willing to help you with that, Jungjeon-mama.” At his proposal, you’re unable to control the scoff that escapes your lips.

“That offer would be most tempting, Chief Advisor Park…” the man visibly straightens at your words, a brow raised at your unexpected remark, “perhaps to someone who shares the same degree of desperation as the proposer.”

The rosy tinge of shame fills the man’s cheeks while you hear Jungkook and the other guards behind you suppress their snickers. You are smiling widely as well, and as Park Jimin gets a glimpse of your pearly whites through the fine silk of your headwear, he gives you the cold shoulder and walks back to his row.

Yoongi, enjoying being inconspicuous from outside the hanok beams at you, immersed in the amusement he finds in watching you put these men in their places. Behind the mirth, he knows that the chief advisor was not totally ingenuine with his concern.

It’s the unspoken truth – a kingless city was as vulnerable as a deer in an open space, surrounded by hunters. He had never doubted your prowess once, nor did he question your capability to look after your subjects. But the world was a cruel place and a kingdom without corruption is almost a concept far from reality.

“Nevertheless, the need for an heir is already out of the choices…” Whispers are shared amongst the crowd of men in front of you. Confusion arose from the councilmen at your words. Even with their numerous plots to rise to the throne, you’re still surprised at how they can’t seem to understand simple implications. Taking into consideration their perplexed expressions, you decide to state the obvious.

“Yes. I am pregnant.”

Jungkook and Yoongi look up at you from where they’re stood, just as shocked as the rest of the council.

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(c) joontier 2020

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[cruelduarte]

Pregnant Jurdan, part 1

Part 2

Being High Queen means always being busy. Always being busy means a lot of the time I have no idea what day it is or how much time is really passing.

It isn’t until I’m sitting in the brugh during a revel that I notice a full moon in a sky. Something about this seems significant to me, and I force myself to think as hard as possible.

And then I realize.

I’m late.

I can already feel my heart pounding loudly in my chest.

Turning to Cardan, trying to seem as calm as possible, I say, “I’m going to turn in early. Enjoy yourself.”

I don’t give him much time to respond before I’m taking my personal guard back to our chambers. If anyone notices something off about my mood, they don’t mention it.

I’m slamming my door and pacing the parlor before my mind can come to any decision. I’m positive I’m late because the last time I remember bleeding was two full moons ago.

Suddenly I feel dizzy.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” I try telling myself. “Stress can make things irregular.” Even though the last time I was irregular was when I was 14. I know that this isn’t merely a missed cycle.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I crack the door open and call Fand over. I keep my voice steady but quiet while I say, “Please send a healer. And be as discreet as possible.” Without waiting for questions I’m back in the parlor.

I’m already coming up with plans in my head. If I am... pregnant then it’s not the end of the world. I’ve been queen for almost eight years now. Cardan has briefly mentioned wanting children with me.

I’m most scared for myself. Which already gives me evidence that I’d be a terrible mother. I was raised with too much hate and destruction to ever be a good mom. But now it seems I won’t have a choice. I don’t know what to do to ensure I don’t screw a baby up like I’ve been screwed up.

A light knock comes at the door, and when I give the okay an imp hobbles in. She reminds me of Tatterfell, but with a face that seems less kind. Perhaps I’m just used to Tatterfell’s fondness.

“Your majesty,” the imp says to me, bowing her head. I’m too panicked to get annoyed that she doesn’t kneel. It will take far longer than eight years for a kingdom of immortal beings to accept a mortal as their ruler.

That seems like a small worry now.

“You’re a healer?”

All she does is nod.

“If anything we discuss in here tonight leaves your mouth outside this room I’ll have your tongue cut out, and I’ll throw you up into the Tower of Forgetting.” When she looks slightly alarmed I continue. “I have a suspicious I might be with child. What can you do for me?”

“May I touch you, my lady?”

I don’t particularly want her to, but I give a stiff nod. She motions to my body, and then I understand she means to touch my skin. My stomach. I don’t care much for modesty at the moment, so I strip out of my dress so all I’m in is my mortal undergarments. At least they’re not polka-dotted.

She approaches slowly, and then places one of her gnarled hands on my stomach. It’s cold and not soft, but I say nothing. She can probably hear how fast my heart is beating. I definitely can.

Minutes pass, and she moves her palm several places around my stomach. I’m getting anxious. I know getting mad will do me no good, but it feels like a can of soda that’s been shaken. Too much is going on inside of my head.

The imp clears her throat and steps back respectfully. “You are with child, my lady. In fact, I believe you are with two children.”

And then the world goes dark.

———————————————————————

When I wake, I am in my bed. A damp cloth has been placed across my forehead, and I can feel someone holding my hand. I already have a sneaking suspicion who this someone is.

I turn my head to the side to see Cardan sitting in a chair at the edge of the bed, forehead resting on his forearm. He’s still in the clothes he was wearing at the revel. He must’ve been called when I passed out.

The anxiety is still there, but I’ve built a wall around it. I can’t let it all flow out yet. I need to be smart about how I handle this situation. I need to treat it like every other obstacle I’ve ever approached.

Minus the murder. But that’s what Cardan is here for.

“Cardan,” I whisper, squeezing the hand he’s holding mine with.

He immediately stirs, a sleepy smile on his face when he sees me. And then is immediately replaced with a look of concern. “Jude. What happened? All I was told is you asked for a healer, and then you fainted. She wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

His worry over me makes me feel guilty even though there was nothing I could do about passing out. I was a slave to my body’s whims. But I need to tell him. I’ve learned from my mistakes in the past of keeping things from him. He doesn’t appreciate it, and it only leads to problems between us. We don’t need anymore of those than we already have.

I squeeze his hand again and motion for him to come onto the bed with me. “I’m okay.” Not a complete lie. I’m not dying. “But I have some news.”

His large black eyes feel like an unescapable tornado. I’m being sucked in. Before I can think of a good way to explain, I’m saying, “I’m pregnant. With twins.” Maybe that is the only way to explain it actually.

He sucks in a breath which does nothing to ease my anxiety. “Are you lying?”

That’s offensive. “What? No, of course not why would I lie about this?”

“I’m sorry, I know, I’m just...” Seeing Cardan at a loss for words is half exciting and half terrifying. A smile breaks across his face. His perfect face. “Jude!” He’s laughing now. I wonder if fae are able to become psychotic. Or more psychotic than normal. “That’s amazing! Wait, twins? I’ve never heard of Faerie twins. Are you sure?”

I’ve never heard of it either, but I doubt there have been many twin mortal consorts to begin with. “Unless imps have learned to lie, we are having twins.” Saying it out loud just makes my head spin more. Two of them?

He grabs my face and slams his mouth against mine. It’s quick, but it translates all the excitement he’s feeling. “This is wonderful,” he says breathlessly.

His happiness is infectious. I wouldn’t say he’s unhappy most of the time, but I’ve never seen him like this. Right now I’m looking at the person he would’ve been without the horrors of his past. A person full of light and love for everything. I hope he can pass it on to our kids.

“You think we can do this?” I ask. I’m skeptical, but I remind myself we have more than enough help should we need it. And Taryn has been doing it for almost eight years. She was always the more adaptable type, but I have to figure that child rearing can be no more difficult than kingdom building. I hope.

Cardan gives me a soft look. He’s smiling, but I can tell he sees my worries. “Yes, Jude,” he says sincerely. “Our pasts don’t make us unfit to love. They show us why it’s so important to be good. And we will be good parents. Better than either of us ever had.” He kisses my forehead. “We have each other.”

He can’t lie so he must believe these things are true. It does make me feel better. He’s already proving that he’s more cut out for this than I am. Too bad I’m the one who will provide housing for the next nine months.

I pull him closer so that both our heads are on one pillow, and his head is in the crook of my neck. He lazily runs his fingers up and down my arm while he verbally daydreams about what parenthood will look like. He talks of reading faerietales to our children at night before bed. He talks of showing our kids all the different kingdoms of Faerie. He talks of loving them unconditionally, no matter what happens.

He talks until I fall asleep, dreaming of tiny feet and pointed ears.

———————————————————————

@gloriouspalacebakerylawyer @bookwyrminspiration @fallingstarsandeagles

I tagged those that requested this prompt! If this does well I’ll post part 2! It’ll include cute moments of Cardan helping out a difficult pregnant Jude and announcing it to the kingdom probably! Hope you guys liked this!

#jurdan #cardan x jude #jude x cardan #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #the folk of the air #folk of the air #cruel prince #the cruel prince #wicked king #the wicked king #queen of nothing #the queen of nothing #jurdan fanfic #pregnant jude

[honeyhan-123]

Patience is a Virtue

Summary: Steve is done being patient and decides just to take what he wants.

Warnings: This is non-con/dub-con - if you don’t like please don’t read it - dark!Steve, slight name calling, cheating and some good old sex pollen. 

AN: Okay so this was written for the amazing @darkficsyouneveraskedfor #inthedarkchallenge. Congratulations again for reaching 3k followers, I’m so happy for you. Please check out some all of her work, she truly is incredible. My prompt will be in bold.

My Masterlist 

Word Count: 2.5k

Gif Source

The mission started like any other. Steve was flying the quinjet as you sat next to him, the familiar bunch of butterflies fluttering about in your stomach. It didn’t matter how many missions you went on, you were always nervous in the beginning. Normally however you were the only one of the squad who was antsy, but it didn’t escape your notice that Steve was acting a little different as well, constantly glancing at you out of the side of his eyes. 

Flipping the jet over to auto pilot briefly, Steve stood up and headed towards the back before chucking his water bottle at you. ‘You should drink something, it might help you calm down. You’re even stressing me out.’ 

Something that felt like guilt flooded your system as you hastily drank some of the water. ‘I’m so sorry Cap, I just can’t help it. It happens every time.’ 

‘Trust me, I know Doll, but there’s no need to stress we’ll be in and out real quick.’ Feeling slightly reassured by his words and accompanying smile he flashed in your direction,  you just focussed on drinking some more to help put you at ease as you watched the little red dot get closer and closer on the map, nearing your destination.

+

Steve landed the quinjet in a nearby clearing, just under a mile out from the building you were meant to search. Apparently someone had tried to hack into the Avengers computer files that morning from this place. Grabbing your gear you disembarked, switching on the heat sensor as you started trekking towards the building. 

‘Are you sure Tony said the source was coming from here?’ You asked Steve as you approached the worn down pillars where a gate would have once stood, the heat sensor in your hand still not showing anything. 

You thought it was kind of odd that Tony didn’t say anything directly to you, seeing as you had spent the morning cocooned in each other, but you just shrugged the thought away,  it had probably happened after he had left for Washington. 

‘Yeah he definitely said it was here. I know it doesn’t look like much but keep your guard up.’ Steve confirmed, passing through the gate and up the short driveway only pausing briefly to check that you were still with him before kicking the door open. 

Just like you had expected it was empty, not a soul in sight as you cleared floor after floor with Steve covering your six. You only stopped moving when you had reached the top floor which seemed to be some kind of bedroom.  

‘According to this the source came from here, have a look around, see if they left anything.’ You nodded, following Steve’s orders as he headed to the other side of the room searching for something. 

Sweat had started dripping down your forehead, your face was flushed as you made your way towards the adjacent bathroom. Whoever had been here before had clearly cranked the heat up, far too high. 

There was still no evidence that anyone else had even been there, and as you walked back to the bedroom to tell Steve you thought the mission was a bust, you found him sitting on the bedspread, unstrapping his shield from his large bicep before taking out his earpiece. 

‘Uh Cap, what are you doing? Shouldn’t we be focussing on the mission?’ You remained motionless in the doorway of the bathroom as he raised himself to his full height, his large, perfect body coming closer and closer to you with every stride. 

‘How are you feeling Doll?’ He asked, ignoring your confusion as he came within arm distance. ‘Not too hot?’ 

‘Well, I mean I feel a bit hot but I’m pretty sure it’s just nerves. Something about this doesn’t feel right though, I mean it’s obvious no one has been here for at least a week. I think we should leave.’

He let out a laugh at your reply, shaking his head. ‘But we can’t leave yet Doll, not when the fun is just about to start.’ The sinister look in Steve’s eyes held you fixed in place, terror slowly suffocating you. Something was definitely not right.

‘Steve what do you mean? What’s going on?’ 

He just smiled mockingly at you as you tried to pull your arm out of his unyielding grip. ‘Do you know how long this took to set up?’ He asked, running a hand through his golden locks.  Finding that stuff isn’t exactly easy you know? Most of it was incinerated when we raided all those Hydra bases last year but I finally got my hands on a small little sample. Had to call in a lot of favours but at last, here we are.’ 

You had no idea what on earth he was talking about but you were starting to become genuinely concerned about what was going on. 

‘Do you know how long I’ve wanted you for? How often I’ve thought about fucking your sweet wet cunt as I came in my hand. Even while I was with other women it was always you. You invaded my mind took a hold of me and I tried waiting, being a good guy, hoping that you would eventually notice how much better I am for you than he is. But you never fucking did and I’m done being patient.’ 

As Steve spoke you could feel yourself really starting to panic now, on the verge of hyperventilating as your skin continued to heat up, pain erupting in your abdomen. 

‘What are you doing Steve? What have you done to me?’ You managed to rasp out between deep breaths, the room swimming behind your eyes. 

Steve just laughed at your fear, stepping even closer as he wrapped an arm you. ‘I see it’s already starting to take effect. Come here and I’ll help you deal with the pain.’ 

You knew that you shouldn't but feeling his arm around you had alleviated some of the agnony so you stepped even closer, pushing you front against him. A moan escaped your lips as the relief came just from being so close to him but you wanted more. You wanted him, you thought with a start as you realised just how damp your panties were becoming underneath your combat suit. 

‘You want me don’t you? Don’t bother trying to deny it, I can smell it on you.’ Shame filled you as you knew he was telling the truth, what with his super senses there was no way he couldn’t smell the traces of your liquid arousal. 

But still you resisted, trying to twist out of his embrace, thinking of Tony, the love of your life. ‘No, Steve, we can’t. It’s not right.’ 

He paid your refusal no attention as his steel grip tightened even further, his fingers bruising your hips even through the padding of your combat suit. ‘Oh Sweetheart, it’ll be so much easier if you just stop resisting and accept it. This is going to happen whether or not you admit you want it.’ 

With that he started pulling the zip at your back down, forcing your arms out of the material until it was pooled at your waist, exposing the bra you wore underneath. It wasn’t anything special, just a basic black sports bra yet the way Steve was devouring it only added to the ache between your thighs as he pulled it up, over your head and pushed your suit down, stooping to free you from your boots. 

He paused, stepping back to observe you, standing in front of him, more perfect than he could ever have imagined. He could really smell your arousal now with just the scrap of lace covering your heat as he watched your pert nipples moving slightly as you breathed deeply. He wanted this image in his mind for all eternity, you desperate, yearning for him, for the relief only he could give you. Waiting had been worth it. 

Steve wasted no time in freeing himself from his restricting uniform as you stood there, your need clear in your eyes as you caught sight of his perfect chest and the sharp v that lead down to his little happy tail. You knew it was wrong, that you had a boyfriend but the voice telling you to lick that trail of hair was far too overpowering. You needed him. You needed him now.

Once he was out of his uniform he was on you, touching, feeling, kissing, every inch of skin that he could. His mouth met yours, teeth clashing in his desperation to taste you, shoving his tongue inside your lips as he lead you back towards the bed, shedding his boxers in the process and ripping the lace covering your modesty. 

You back bounced against the soft pillows at he threw you down, climbing on top of you as a hunter does their prey. Hip lips met your skin again, starting down at your ankles, making a tantalizing slow ascent up your leg as you writhed underneath him, pure unadulterated want flowing through your veins. 

When he finally reached his destination, your pussy was sopping with your juices, shining even in the dim light of the bedroom. ‘Steve please… I need you.’ You tangled your fingers in his hair, trying to push him down on your cunt but he pulled away, far stronger than you and smacking your inner thigh. 

‘Oh no Sweetheart, you don’t get to make the demands around here. And you will call me Captain.’ You clenched at the authoritative tone he used and he gave you no warning before pushing a finger in your tight wet heat while his mouth descended again, attaching itself to your clit. 

His fingers curled inside of you, providing some relief from the ache you had been feeling but not enough as he searched for your g-spot while his tongue flicked over your clit mercilessly. You wanted him, his cock buried inside of you. 

When you let out an inhumane moan he knew he had found it and being the perfect marksman, hit it with every thrust of his fingers, driving you closer and closer to the edge. ‘Captain, yes! Right there. Oh God Captain.’ You were a mewling mess as he pleased you, finally coming apart with one last flick of his tongue. 

He finished lapping up your juices and sat up on his haunches, teasingly raising his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on them as he watched you, coming down from your high. ‘Oh sweetheart, you’re just too tasty. I could eat you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My god, how Tony ever leaves your side I have no fucking idea. When you’re mine I’m going to chain you to my bed.’ 

He lent back down, his lips covering yours and you could taste the slight remnants of yourself on his lips. You felt him prod at your entrance as you raised your hips, coating him in your slik as he moaned above you before thrusting into you feeling a little resistance despite your desperation. He was much larger than Tony and oh god did it feel good.

He started thrusting, not quite giving you enough time to adjust but you liked the pain it caused. It grounded you, telling you that this was real and as wrong as you knew it was, it just felt so right. 

Once again finding your sweet spot, Steve started picking up his pace, his skin slapping yours as he delved deeper and deeper into you. ‘You feel so good, so tight baby, the way you take my cock; god it feels so good.’ 

He fucked you relentlessly into the mattress as your hands ran down his back, fingernails leaving little red scars as you clung to him, pulling his body closer chasing the new sensation building within yourself. 

The speed and strength at which he snapped his hips into yours had you turning into a mewling mess as he continued growling in your ear all the dirty things he wanted to do to you. 

‘Come on baby. I know your close, cum for your Captain.’ 

The friction of his pelvis against your clit had you coming undone underneath him, fingernails drawing blood as your cried out. ‘Captain yes oh god yes.’ 

Not even bothering to give you time to calm down, he pulled and flipped you around, forcing you onto your hands and knees as he rentered you, getting even deeper in this new position. His hands gripped your already bruising hips as he pummeled into you, abusing your hole as he saw fit. 

One hand escaped and trailed around your stomach to your clit, rubbing your over sensitive bundle of nerves with his fingers. ‘Tell me Sweetheart, does he fuck you like this? Does he know how badly you need to be controlled? How you crave it?’ 

You knew that you would be betraying Tony if you said no but it was the truth. He never fucked you like this, with such pure passion. You two always made love which was nice but sometimes you needed to be treated like a dirty little slut and Steve was showing you just how well he knew the real you, the version you kept hidden from everyone.

You felt his hand smack your ass, pushing you forward, your face shoved into the pillows. ‘You will answer when your Captain asks you a question.’ 

Shaking your head in a frenzy you replied that Tony didn’t, he never touched you like this. 

Steve was clearly happy at your confirmation and continued toying with your clit, pulling you closer and closer to the edge, his hips slightly stuttering and you knew he was as close as you were. 

As if sensing your impending release, he smacked you again, ‘you can’t cum. Not yet.’ 

A whimper fell through your lips at his denial of your pleasure, the wave slowly rising in you as you tried to hold back, tried to be a good girl, but it was becoming increasingly harder as he continued pumping into you, his fingers matching the pace his hips set. 

‘Please Captain, I n-need to cum. Please!’ You practically screamed as he shoved you down, lying you flat, the silk sheets replacing his hand at your clit. 

‘Okay baby, now. Cum now.’ His tone alone could have had you cumming and you could faintly feel his own release coating your insides as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. 

Remaining inside you, he gently rolled you over on your side, his arms wrapping around you, squeezing the buds of your nipples and you could feel as he started to get hard again. His tongue licked a path from your shoulder to the base of your ear, tasting the sweat that covered your skin, a sound of contentment escaping his lips. 

‘You’re my dirty little girl aren’t you?’

He didn’t even need to prompt you for a response as the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. 

‘Yes Captain.’ 

#inthedark!challenge #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark mcu #dark one shot #dark steve rogers #honeyhan #honeyhanwrites #sex pollen #tony stark #cheating

[isidar-mithrim]

Tag game

Thank you for the tag @fightfortherightsofhouseelves and @clarensjoy!! 

Also, I’ll take this opportunity to apologize for all the tag-chain/game I ignored lately! I’m quite busy this period and while I do still check tumblr almost daily – especially now that I can’t wait for new @giblimort‘s amazing portraits *_* – it’s more like a few-minute scroll in the homepage and maybe read the occasional ficlet so I might miss the tags or more probably I might be lazy about answering them ^^’ But it always makes me smile that someone thought of me, so be aware that it’s appreciated and it makes my day lighter <3 @narukoibito @sybill-the-seer @ballerinaroy and I’m surely forgetting someone ^^’

Fandoms: Harry Potter, the one and only ;)

Where you post: Tumblr and Ao3, but I also have an account on the italian fan fiction page EFP (but my last stories are missing and most of the old ones that I’ve translated needs to be changed/edited, so I would kinda beg any passing italians to read them in English or ask me what version I would suggest XD). And one on Wattpad that I haven’t updated in a long while...

Most popular one-shot: Well I’m not sure what defines “popular” here, so I’ll kinda cheat and check the Ao3 stats I think for the first time ever and give you:

one for “most hits”: Fantasies [NSFW and basically Hinny PWP, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised it’s the one with most hits XD]

one for “most kudos”: Standing on tiptoe [whoa, hadn’t seen it coming!]

one for “most bookmarks”: Letters for beyond (featuring the Potters)

one for “most comment threads”: so there are 4 with the same number, two of them are the two above, and between the remaining two I’ll pick A new beginning, a post-war chat between Harry and Neville ^^

Most popular multi-chapter: among my only two proper multi chapters, of which one is incomplete so far and with just 2 chapter and the other is complete with just 3 short chapter (what an achievement XD), Better than fireworks  is the one among all of my stories, including one shots, with “most bookmark”, “most subscriptions” (by far) and also “most comments threads”: [all this support is absolutely amazing, but I admit also kinda make me feel guilty because it’s almost been a year since I posted it and promised to finish it, ups ^^’ And the ironic thing is that I still plan too. One day. Maybe XD]

But I’ll also cheat a little bit again, naming a4 one-shots series, “Have a biscuit”. If you like Neville and McGonagall, I’ll be honored if you’d give it a try ^^

Favourite story written so far: Ahhh that’s a tough one, I tend to be quite fond of my stories (yay for the modesty, lol – I swear that when I’m not that thrilled I always admit it, though XD)... Let’s say “As though by a mother” but I might give a different answer in a week XD

Fic you were nervous to post: I’m not sure I’m never actually “nervous” before posting (more like, afraid that the story won’t appreciated as a I hope/that it won’t interest people), but I guess I must have been a bit nervous before posting my first ever pic translated in English, which also happens to have a not-so-usual writing style: And yet it tastes good

How you choose your titles: Ahhhh, good question. I guess it depends. Tbh I’m not that good at titles, or sometime I have a (supposedly) great one in Italian that doesn’t really translate (or isn’t that good) in English or viceversa. [Example: the “Have a biscuit” serie has English titles that I like way better than the italians, but a story like “Souls of Ink”, while having a good ring in English, to me it’s way more powerful and poetic in Italian, “Anime d’inchiostro”].

Sometimes I don’t have a title until the end and I kinda throw something there, sometimes I have the title from the very beginning and it could be a big part in inspiring the story. I tend to use title that are neither too short nor too long, and I don’t usually use songs quotes or the like. Plus, I’m very happy if the words/phrasing of the title recur literally or metaphorically in the story! I also try to match the “feeling” of the title (and the summary) with the “feeling” of the story. Like, I’d go for a more poetic/dramatic one for an angst story, and for a more comedic-like one for something more fluffy or silly.

Complete: Well, that’s easy, since I mostly stay away from multi-chapters XD (and for good reasons – see above XD) All my one shots, and most of my “closed” series, as in, series that I imagined with a beginning and an end or something like that (so, series like “Next Generation” don’t really have a complete/incomplete status) 

In progress: Again “Better than Fireworks”, and I’ve also just realised that I’ve yet to finish translating (despite being at a decent point) the second and last chapter of “Of Matilda, war and Peace” [speaking about being bad a title, lol XD] Ups ^^’

Coming soon/Not yet started: ahhh coming soon probably nothing, ehm, but I’ve at least 4 one shots in the making and that I want to finish one day (most of them started months if not a years ago... I’ll list them below), plus the draft for the rest of Better than Fireworks, plus several random missing-moments or AUs ideas and a long Hinny post-war story started few years ago in Italian (roughly 100.000 written) that needs to be heavily rewritten, translated and possibly finished ^^ Same for a shorter bit of a Jily seventh-year story, if we have to say it all...

“Ghost of the past”, a Hinny one shot from Ginny’s pov with a difficult conversation – I’m very fond of this one, but I have to work on the second part/end. The first/main part is finished and even betaed by the amazing @narukoibito! <3

“Of those who stayed”, a silver trio one shot – again from Ginny’s pov – during DH, when they try to steal the sword. I’ve the first (long) chapter done and again, even betaed by the wonderful @floreatcastellumposts but knowing myself I want to finish it first. I might decide that it’s okay like this (in Italian I’ve already posted it a one shot), but since I had a sort of sequel in mind for now it’ll stay in my drafts ;)

“The man who lived” – This one is all in just Italian so far (I’m rewriting an old piece – I’d probably restart it directly in English now); again Ginny’s pov (wow, hadn’t realised it!), again DH, this time since she (in my head canon) realise Harry might have gone to Voldemort during the battle, until the end of the battle

A one shot that’s it’s a series of Hinny snippets about James Sirius Potter coming to life (from the very start). Old one written in Italian and never posted, that a again needs to be finished. Same for a collection of snippets around Hinny’s wedding (but this is “draftier”)

A one shot of Harry and the Potters waling Teddy at King Cross; I’ve just a very little bit of it written + most of the draft, and it would be the sequel of the one shot “What parents would want”

The random Missing Moments that I’ve have in mind are: a conversation between Bill and Ginny in the hospital wing in HBP, plus maybe a bit more from Ginny’s pov in that period (like going back home from Hogwarts); a conversation between Bill and Ron in DH, not sure if during Ron’s first or second stay and Shell Cottage; Hermione finding out about Arthur’s attack; Dumbledore taking Slughorn’s memory (when it happened, how he found out... I’ve several head canon about it!)

The random AUs moments (and I say moments just because I wouldn’t really be interested in writing a whole story, I only imagine few moments of it): Hermione brining Harry at the Burrow at Christmas after Godric’s Hollow, with is locket attached to his chest (I think I stole the idea from Flo’s!); the trio finding Ginny in the cell in Malfoy Manor as well; and some dumb “Lily and James are resurrected post DH” trash XD Oh, also a real muggle AU with Harry as a self-defence coach and Ginny as trainee!

Do you accept prompts? As you can imagine especially in this period I’m not very good at commitment ^^’, but if you have a specific idea and want to give it a try (maybe during the winter holidays?) I’d be honored, if not able to make any promises!

Upcoming works you’re most excited about: definitely “Ghost of the past”!

I’m tagging @ballerinaroy again, @remedial-potions, @thedistantdusk, @thebiwholived and whoever wants to join ^^

EDIT: Ehm I got caught up with the stats when I wrote this and without realizing it I put a multi chapter in the “Most popular one shot” section, lol XD Problem fixed ;)

#tag game #I love doing it! #sorry if I've ignored most of the tag game so far #but it take me like an hour to do this so you can imagine why I have to step back from these kind of things usually XD #I get clearly caught up XD #draft list #wip list #drafts #wips #wip #work in progress

[vroenis]

Part 2

This is part 1.

Can you tell how tired I was getting by the end? This is life under meds, but given the other benefits (I think?), I’ll take it for now.

When I woke up the next morning, I had a whole lot I was thinking about and it’s stuff I want to say given I said a lot, but didn’t cover this stuff. I’m still happy with part 1, I think that’s just how I write, moving from subject to subject more or less organically and it does show me to more unstructured even if there is a vague plan for how I want the piece to go.

Anyway let’s get going.

As always, mild spoilers for well, everything. If you haven’t seen this stuff and are mildly interested in watching them then ah, you may have a lot of catching up to do. I don’t think I’ll drop any real hard spoilers for anything but you never know.

Ghost In The Shell is an Outsider story

There are whole stacks of lore you could dive into with Stand Alone Complex in particular, with Motoko having been in an aircraft accident and getting her first shell (cyber-body) at a very early age, what that means, the thing with Kuze (avoiding spoilers here), and the extended cast - not that Paz, Boma and even Ishikawa get a whole lot of time anyway - but it’s not really that important.

Looking at just Mamoru Oshii’s 1995 film, and even more-so his 2004 film Innocence (not really a sequel but usually regarded as such), the narratives cast the characters very much as Outsiders. In the first film, Section 9 is already at odds with the government in general and while it’s subtle, Aramaki as a department head is certainly different from his contemporaries, even if we don’t see much of it - again, so much more of this in Stand Alone Complex. Motoko’s early conversation with Togusa in the first film is probably the most telling as far as playing it loud. She speaks in pragmatic terms to why he’s there, but this is a precursor to what will ultimately transpire for herself at the conclusion of the film, something very intentionally written into the film. Batou is also an Outsider in more ways than one, not only in the role he plays in the department but in the very clear personal boundary between him and Motoko. There are boundaries between Batou and everyone and they become more apparent in the second film. Togusa is easy pickings so I’ll leave him alone, suffice to say if the film needs one, he’s the audience’s window of ignorance which is why he’s discarded so willingly half way in. He gets his time in the spotlight in Stand Alone Complex and it’s pretty amazing.

As for Motoko... I admit it is difficult separating my understanding of her character from Stand Alone Complex and attempting to just isolate what’s shown of her in the first film but I’ll try.

I mentioned the film’s centrepiece montage in my previous journal, in which we might say Motoko is the centrepiece but if so, she probably shares it with the city itself, and I feel much more is being said about the two together rather than separated simultaneously. This would be one of the first indications of Motoko’s sense of identity, of otherness, isolation, questioning. Again the scene that plays it most loud would be diving on the boat and her speech to Batou. There are other moments tho; single frames of her face, looks, movements that are lingered on, I feel like Oshii is constantly telling us about her and what she’s going to do, but more important than that, why she’s going to do it and how she feels.

Ghost in the Shell is a film about great emotion, and not like I’d know because it’s been a long time since I’ve looked into the discourse around it, but I suspect no-one really talks about it as a film about feelings.

I realise these days I talk more and more about moods and art being mood pieces. I labelled my Instagram account as being “A catalogue of moods” and I’m very fond of the use of the word in vernacular. It might seem flippant but it’s immensely empowered, especially for me as an individual when I understand my moods and can translate them into, via and thru art. I do appreciate many struggle with Oshii’s cinematic language as it can appear cold and detached and that’s fine, but it’s anything but for me - it’s immensely emotionally charged, it just appears differently to what audiences are perhaps accustomed to seeing. It’s a different language that perhaps takes time to learn, but it’s all there.

This couldn’t become more evident than in Innocence (the Ghost in the Shell 2 moniker I think was a western addendum). Batou takes centre stage and is  immediately presented as bluntly as possible as an Outsider, reaffirmed later by Aramaki who also cements Togusa’s position in limbo.

I should pause and say that within the GitS canon, I feel Togusa is definitely embraced by Section 9, so he’s not wholly an Outsider to the department, but for obvious reasons, he doesn’t fully share all of their daily or philosophical concerns - hence not wholly. He would also definitely be an Outsider to most other members of the force after joining Section 9, but unfortunately I’m not here to love Togusa, poor guy - I feel like he’s always a bit unloved. Someone write a giant essay in service to his greatness. He actually is great.

But I adore Batou in Innocence. I love his story, his struggle, his emotion. I love how present Motoko is without ever appearing on screen and then when she does, the impact she has on everything, especially with the lines she delivers, one of which I quoted to open the last journal. Batou is in many ways a shadow of what Motoko was and is/has become, just in physical form, mirroring her in a real world manifestation with the natural physical limitations that comes with.

For some reason I feel like I need to inject a comment about Batou putting the jacket/vest on Motoko’s body. I don’t know if people perceive this as an act of masculine modesty but it’s not how I read it. I did stumble on this action for years but as I began to interpret the films as Outsider stories, I realised that he does this as an act of inclusion, and that Motoko consents, permits him to and doesn’t immediately react with violence or technological recourse we know she is well capable of, indicates it’s mutual. Their inclusion isn’t just about the boundaries of the Section 9 department but extends beyond that, an inner circle that may only contain the two of them - inside which there are still boundaries between them Batou can never cross. Those boundaries become infinitely more apparent after the final events of the first film, and the second film effectively is all about how he feels about them. He is an ultimate Outsider, but so is Motoko in the state she now is in.

Section 9 is a department of stray dogs. Individuals who haven’t quite fit in where they belong, and found belonging with one another. Then, after a time, one of them moves on - at the conclusion of the first film, and then another feels an almost permanent and ultimate sense of separation - more or less the duration of the second film.

Ghost in the Shell isn’t about technology and sentience and hacking and corporations at all. It’s about loneliness and belonging and acceptance and affection. It’s about how that feels.

I’m Not Sure Why People Struggle With David Lynch Films

I need to stop talking about anime. Honestly I looked at the list at the start of the last journal and thought hell yea Sky Crawlers, Jin-Roh, Haibane Renmei and Lain let’s unpack some shit! but honestly I’ll run out of time and I should really draw from a variety of mediums and sources.

OK I’m not being facetious when I say Lynch’s films are fairly straight-forward narrative-wise. Again, it’s hard for me to position myself in a place where I’m not into the stuff I’m into and maybe that’s what gives me the cinematic language familiarity to parse them but that just sounds like wanker bullshit to me. I don’t mind if folks don’t like Lynch films, that’s fine. But they aren’t difficult.

So in the context of everything else, even on that short list on the last journal, plus how I keep trying to shift the discussion of works from the pragmatic reading of them to an emotional reading of them from a mood perspective, I feel as tho the same process can be applied to Lynch. So much about his films are about how they make you feel, or I’ll say - how they make *me* feel. It might be grandiose to assume I’m feeling the correct emotion, that these are the moods that David Lynch himself is attempting to create and evoke and thus, I am interpreting them correctly but hey - I enjoy the hell out of the films, feel I understand them and watch them over and over again so that’s all I’m basing it on.

That’s not to say there are things I dismiss as meaningless or that I don’t understand in his films, it’s just that I don’t have to parse them immediately at first watch and perhaps that’s the audience’s problem. I don’t know if reverse-diagnosis is appropriate but looking at how much hand-holding there is in other directors’ films might be just as telling. I mean I saw Nolan’s Tenet and was about the least confusing thing I’d ever seen in my life but apparently *that* confused people, and you know hey that’s fair I guess, but I mean Nolan did a whooooole lot of audience hand-holding in that film, I mean, the dialogue was terrible. There was so much unnecessary exposition, which I generally find in all of his films, so if an audience can’t follow that then OK sure, Lynch is going to be a problem.

The thing is popcorn cinema is totally OK. I watch it. I really love it, I’ve written about it before, it’s good Industry. There’s a lot of great creativity in popular cinema, I don’t at all think poorly of it and I love seeing a really well produced, Hollywood picture... but I guess if that’s all you consume, and I guess if folks’ short-format episodic media (aka series - think Netflix, HVO etc.) is more or less to the same standard, then it begins to make sense that anything outside of that isn’t going to make sense.

Long story short - Lynch films tell simple stories where the feeling of the film is as important as the narrative of the film. To understand the story, you have to understand the feeling, and vice-versa.

Surprise surprise, it turns out independent and deemed “fringe” film-makers... aka Outsiders... make films about Outsiders.

Now I wouldn’t know if any of the Marvel films thematically are about Outsiders or Outsider culture, they probably are and very loudly at that, but the reason I’ve never included one in my catalogue of moods is they all read the same way. Not only are Marvel films mostly indistinct from one other to me, they’re also mostly indistinct from much of popular culture in general. That doesn’t make them bad, some of them still have some pretty awesome stunts, visfx, even parts of the narratives, funny jokes etc. in them, but on the whole they’re not useful to me as things I deem truly valuable in the long-term.

It’s OK, I’m not at all going to lament the proliferation of Marvel films, a lot of them have been pretty cool and they keep people in work. Meow meow meow “the death of cinema” mate, sure - I find it more difficult to find the sorts of films I like but that’s always been the case. Humans will do what they do, it’s not a read on cinema, it’s about being an Outsider and what that’s all about. True, maybe weird shit like Lynch and Noe might be more difficult to make, but the weird-indie corner was also dominated by white men and that needs to change, so who knows what the future holds.

Can you detect the point at which I took my meds and started getting tired?

Ghost in the Shell // Innocence // What We Want // What We’re Left With

Growing up as an Outsider, I feel as tho the first Ghost in the Shell film carries the weight of isolation, questions of identity and belonging, ultimately of acceptance, empowerment and liberation. Then Innocence brings to bear very similar moods but states that things may not necessarily change for the better, they simply change state. I love that in both narratives, the main texts of hacking or corrupt corporations, crime etc. are the least common denominators and barely relevant to heart of the films. I think about the theme of icons in Innocence, icons operatively being the dolls throughout the film, and the final image of Togusa’s daughter’s gift. As humans we assume we’re to take the position of biological humanity as representative of sentience, taking moral priority over all other beings. Earlier in the film we think Togusa is in limbo, but  at the conclusion Motoko asks the question, or perhaps states that perhaps we’re all in limbo together.

I think that’s a significant part of what growing up as and being an Outsider is like, what it feels like. Christians have this saying about “living in the world but not of the world” (derived from a bible verse) and honestly I don’t think they know what it means because they just operate like a cult, but I think queers and folks with long term mental health conditions have a better idea. We are pushed out to the fringes of our social groups from an early age, long before we know or understand what’s different about us. Our peers and the adults around us do this to us because their social behaviours are so well hard-coded, even they may not even know precisely what’s different about us, they just do - and they’re right. We are different. And they don’t accept us.

Maybe I am starting to get a little more upset that weird/different art is becoming more difficult to fund and make, because it’s for us, for me. It speaks to me. You already have so much, and representation and inclusion is so important. I don’t just need queer cinema, I need weird cinema, I need moods. I need quiet, introspective, pensive, reflective, Outsider moods.

I still feel like an Outsider. I have a few people who understand more about me, but I don’t think I have a place, not in a real sense. I have never felt that. Art is one of the few places I feel any connection with anything, and connecting with people is a very odd thing to consider - honestly, I actually would really like to connect with people but the unique combination of being queer *and* autistic comorbid with bipolar makes it really tough, more difficult the older I get. And now all you want to do is fund Marvel movies. I can’t feed off of that.

I’m getting tired, I’m not making any sense. It’s time for bed.

#2021 #chrono #ghost in the shell #innocence ghost in the shell #outsider culture #outsider #queer #queer culture

[writesowhatnext]

Right so Erica did this and she tagged me in it I loved reading it bc I love her work so I was like .....might just hop on this one with my HP fics

Also a PSA that I’m really sorry I’ve essentially been on an unannounced hiatus idk why I’m incapable of writing but here we are :( ANYWAYS thank you for the tag @ickle-ronniekins :) <<33

Which of your fics…

…did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it got?

maybe Love is Learning (Sirius Black) because that’s the idea I had that initially inspired me to start the account because I loved writing it... maybe also Gotta Do the Cooking By the Book (Fred Weasley) if not only because it’s exactly the thing I like to read... I like to know what people don’t like as much though because it just shows how people like different things

…got a better reaction than you expected?  

hmm okay twin time so Pretending is a Gateway Drug (George Weasley) seems to be quite well liked notes-wise which is lovely honestly and I’m very grateful for it... also Elementary, My Dear Weasley (Fred Weasley) is very popular too which I was surprised about but still very glad for obviously 

…is your funniest?

I think that Annoying? Yes. Boring? Never. (James Potter) is quite a fun piece honestly, as is Are You Sure He’s Your Favourite Weasley? (George Weasley) and maybe hmmmmmmm... most of my Fred stuff tends to be quite fun because it’s Fred so maybe Everybody Has Those Days (Fred Weasley) which was a lot of fun to write

…is your darkest/angstiest?

right okay so Our Paradise, Poisoned (Sirius Black) is very angsty and was  one of my first requests so I remember it very clearly honestly, as is You Were Down For Forever (Fred Weasley) which I love for the pure strategy of writing something so sad

…is your absolute favorite?

I’m a really big fan of the Night Changes Series (George Weasley) because I put a lot of work into it and I really love Slytherin reader and I also really love Your Mission, Should You Choose to Accept (Blaise Zabini) because I had so much fun writing it and it’s really just one of my favourites for the enjoyment

…is your least favorite?

hmmm maybe The Human World, it’s a Mess (Remus Lupin) because I found it difficult to incorporate the whole mermaid thing in though I did surprise myself in how much I enjoyed writing the request also Can I Get That in Writing? (Seamus Finnigan) isn’t my favourite just because I struggled a lot to write in character

…was the easiest to write?

so Love is Learning (Sirius Black) was really easy to write because I had such an idea of it in my head and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so when I actually came to write it it was so so easy... I also like writing for Oliver Wood because for me the character is just quite nice to establish and copy I suppose so maybe Game, Set, Match (Oliver Wood)

…was the hardest to write?

oooh this is an interesting question... maybe Semaphore But Tastier (Cedric Diggory) because I really struggled with the character and spent a while rewriting because I was so excited to write him but couldn’t quite get there... that’s probably the same with How Many Branches Does an Olive Tree Have? (Draco Malfoy) because it’s hard to write Draco in character but also somewhat more likeable sorry!

…has your favorite line/exchange/paragraph? (share it)

Hmm I like this bit from Definitely Just a Coincidence (Remus Lupin) because I love the marauders :

“Oi, Y/N,” Sirius had shouted from the breakfast table when he saw you walk into the Great Hall. You rolled your eyes and wandered over, standing behind him.

“And what do you want?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. 

“Can’t I just want to see my friend without ulterior motives?”

If you had known him less well, you would’ve been fooled by his puppy dog eyes.

“No, you always have ulterior motives. That’s your defining feature.”

“I thought my hair was my defining feature? Or my exquisitely handsome face? Remus,” he turned towards the boy opposite at the table, who had been watching you both with amusement. 

“What’s my defining feature?”

“Your modesty.”

…have you re-read the most?

hmmmmm, so I reread all of my stuff because I’m a wonderful combination of narcissistic and self-critical BUT mostly I reread the ones I don’t remember or like the most so that’s probably War... What is it Good For? (Sirius Black) because I love Slytherin reader and that whole concept tbh but also Would’ve Preferred a Pillow Fight (Fred Weasley) because I love Fred and I’m a little bit of a slut for rereading my Fred stuff 

…would you recommend to someone reading your work for the first time?

OOOOH OKAY I’ll put a bit of a mixture of my favourites and the ones I think represent how I write well (who even knows what that means... probably just a vibe check through different characters)

War... What is it Good For? - Sirius Black

Annoying? Yes. Boring? Never. (James Potter)

If it Wasn’t For You Meddling Kids (Remus Lupin)

Night Changes Series (George Weasley)

You Were Down for Forever (Fred Weasley)

Duolingo, Mange Ton Coeur (Fred Weasley)

What’s a Little Healthy Competition? (Oliver Wood)

Your Mission, Should You Choose to Accept (Blaise Zabini)

How Many Branches Does an Olive Tree Have? (Draco Malfoy)

#get to know me #my posts!!!! #I'm sorry about dipping #talking