#I tried to make it a little accurate to the time period part 4 was set in

[pkmacabre-shadow]

Day 5: Fashion

[yet-another-deanw-girl]

Chapter 2: Protocol EG-64 initiated

||The Prophecy Series||

She knew for 15 years that this day would come. She knew her destiny had already been written. That her death had been foretold.

She knew she would have to stop him. She knew she would have to kill him. And she thought she was prepared for all of it. But the day she met him she realized how wrong she was…

Set in Season 10

Pairing: MoC!Dean x Female!OC

Episode mapping: After episode 4 of season 10 "Paper Moon"

Warnings: the usual SPN, language, injuries

Note: The events of this story are following season 10 of Supernatural and are taking place between October 2014 and July 2015. I tried to make sure that all the references to weapons, tech, etc. are accurate with the time period.

AN: This is my first time writing a fanfic but the story has been in my head for too long and it just needed to get out. I hope you like it.

AN: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

I slowly regain consciousness and I’m overwhelmed by the familiar smell of the humid air.  I’m home…  But then the memories from the cabin come back to me.  I struggle to open my eyes but I'm fully awake and I focus on hearing the silent conversation coming from the other side of the room. "What were we supposed to do? Drop her in some hospital? And say what? A bear attacked her?" Sam's voice is concerned. "She just saved our lives, Dean! She will be fine in a couple of days and then she'll be gone." "I know…" Dean sighs. "I'm just not sure if she is safer here with us... with me… or in a hospital on her own!" I'm finally able to open my eyes and start sitting up. "Hey, hey, easy there!" Sam says when he sees me and rushes to me. Dean stays in his place next to the door.  "You are safe here! We are not going to hurt you!" I managed to stop myself before responding with some sarcastic comment like "You should be worried about me hurting you!". I must not behave like the military trained special ops soldier right now. I must act like an American hunter. A little bit of politeness and a fake confusion would be the best way to go. "What happened?" I ask, looking down at my stomach. The wound was stitched up and bandaged. My jeans are covered in blood and my shirt is gone, leaving me only in my sports bra. Sam turns around and produces a plaid shirt from somewhere and I quickly put it on. It is way too big on me, so I roll the sleeves and tie the bottom to a node around my waist so the bandages are not visible. "You were injured by a werewolf while you were saving us. Thanks, for that, by the way." He smiles. "My name is Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean. What's your name?" My name? They have probably already found my fake ID. What was the name on it? Nadia? Natasha? "Natalie, Natalie Brooks. Where am I?" Playing 'damsel in distress' is not my favorite role. I'm far away from helpless and confused as you can imagine. But I just need to play the part and go on my way as fast as possible. "You are… ahm… Well, we live here. We didn't want to just drop you in a hospital." Sam explains. Dean hadn't said a word. Hadn't moved. He was just standing with his back against the wall next to the door, his arms crossed. Looking at me the whole time. Studying me.  I really need to go. Now! "Well thank you, for stitching me up. But I think it's time for me to go now."  Sam tries to stop me when I stand up on my unstable legs.  "I'm fine, thanks! I'll just go. I really don't want to intrude." I walk past Dean and open the door but before I run to the exit, I stop myself remembering, I was not supposed to know the layout of this place. I look both ways and turn around with a confused look. "Ahum... Can you point me to the exit? And…um… I suppose my car is not here?"

"Who are you?" I am sitting in the back seat of a black Impala. We have been on the road for about 40 minutes before Dean speaks to me for the first time. I'm looking through the window, lost in my thoughts, so I'm not entirely faking this time when I startle at his abrupt question. Sam looks at him with a scolding expression, like he is on the verge of lecture him for being impolite. I stifle a scoff and instead, put a confused look on my face. "What do you mean? I already told you who I…" Pain grips every nerve in my body. "Stop the car!" I hiss, grabbing at the door handle. "What the hell are you doing!!!" Dean exclaims. "Dean, stop the car! Something's wrong!" I can hear Sam saying. "Her nose is bleeding!"

Created with Microsoft Designer

I stumble out of the car and start moving back down the road frantically. My mind is trying to grasp what is happening. This is not possible. Not now! Not here! When I'm about a hundred meters away from the car, the pain suddenly stops. I gasp for air and when my breathing normalizes I hear the Winchesters running toward me. "What happened?" Sam asks, the concern in his voice even more evident from when I woke up earlier. I wipe out the blood from my nose ignoring the question and dig out my phone from my jeans back pocket. I already know what is going on but I open my navigation map anyway. The exact distance from the Men of Letters bunker is… 64 kilometers…  Fuck!  Fuck!  Shit!  Fuck! "What the hell is all of that about?" Dean asks, raising his voice. I take a deep breath and straighten my back. I knew this was coming. It was inevitable. And it is just the beginning. And, of course, it has to be the renowned Winchester brothers. "I asked you a question, damn it!" Dean growls.

I slowly turn around to face the boys. I compose myself despite the panic and dread in my chest.  My feet - slightly apart… my back - straight… my hands - clasped behind my back… my chin - parallel to the ground… my face - expressionless. I lock all of the feelings in the tiny little black box inside my head. There is no point in panicking… there is no point of feeling any of this… It is what it is… I had accepted that a long time ago… "I'll have to make a call first, and then I'll explain everything." Dean tries to argue, but Sam stops him.

"Commander! Where are you? You've missed your exit window." I hear the voice of the general on the other side of the line. It looks like I'm on speaker because I can hear the usual noises of the command center. "Sir, I just initiated protocol EG-64." The line goes silent. The entire room around him is deadly quiet. They are just standing there not knowing what to say. "Em..." I hear the general's gasp. "It's right on time, sir."  Another long time of silence. "Sir, I need confirmation." My voice is monotone, drained of any emotion, like a good soldier. The man on the other side of the line clears his throat. "You have confirmation. Initiating protocol EG-64."  Silence…  "Soldier!" The general says and I hear the familiar noise of a keyboard. Everyone else is just quiet... I can imagine their faces and the looks that they are exchanging… "Can I do anything for you, commander?" "Sir, I need official permission to disclose my full identity to the active members of the American Men of Letters - Samuel Winchester, born May 2, 1983 and Dean Winchester, born January 24, 1979." The brothers are staring at me with curiosity, distrust and disbelief. "You have permission. You know the rules - only the need to know information." "Yes, sir." "And… you have permission to disclose your identity to everyone that is involved with your task as you deem needed. Call if you need anything!" "Thank you, sir!"

Created with Microsoft Designer

There is nothing left from the confused and fragile girl that woke up in the bunker a couple of hours earlier. That was actually the thing bothering me about her. She had barged in that cabin, killing those werewolves… And when she woke up… She played… almost helpless… But not anymore… The person standing in front of me is the same small framed, 5 '7 tall, 115 pound woman, wearing the same bloodied jeans and my too big plaid shirt under her leather jacket, but she has the stand of a trained soldier.  Who, the hell, is she?  I knew something was up with her, from the moment she stormed in that cabin, but I was not able to put my finger on it until now.  I look at her closely. Her dark hair is held in a tide braid, her military boots are perfectly laced and going around her ankles, definitely not just a style choice.  It all makes sense now.  She was holding back.  She was trying to hide her training this whole time.

She is standing still like a rock the entire time she is talking on the phone. Not moving a muscle. Her expression is cold and distant, showing no emotions. "Yes, sir." …. "Thank you, sir!"

She hangs up the phone and puts it in her back pocket. Her right hand joins the left one behind her back.  "My name is Emilia Nikolova. I'm a tac team commander of The European Division of The Order." She recites with a monotone voice. "The bad news is that there is something wrong with your bunker. The worse news is that I'm going to kill one of you and the other one is going to kill me."

Chapter 3: The stand-off >>

||The Prophecy Series||

[avelera]

On Language in "Giving Sanctuary" - Behind the Scenes

I've been considering articulating these thoughts for a bit, but figured I might as well now. Language use is one of those things I think the writer worries about 10x more than any reader ever does, but I wanted to explain for my own sake why the way Hob, Dream and the other speaking characters of "Giving Sanctuary" communicate is for the most part entirely modern and largely out of step with the way people spoke in the 1680s. Because I have spent a great deal of time thinking about this and justifying it to the invisible reader in my head that's just as hung up on history as I am, which is a vanishingly smaller percentage of actual readers.

There are a few reasons for this:

1 ) The Sandman show does not have Hob and Dream speaking Middle English in 1389, so I feel pretty much at liberty to have them speak as modernly in "Giving Sanctuary" as they do in the actual source material. That really should be the end of the discussion but I have a few more thoughts. (Because of course I do.)

2 ) Historical fiction really is as fantastical rather than realistic (plus reliant on worldbuilding) as any fantasy or sci-fi story. Almost no one is ever doing a perfect recreation of a historical time period they didn't experience. We are always as writers worldbuilding to a certain extend when writing any experience, but in particular when writing other time periods. There is a constant tug-o-war between "Old-timey enough to evoke the sense of the time period presented" and "Not so accurately old-timey that modern audiences are completely disconnected from the story." I want to grant the pleasures of reading a story set in another time, while acknowledging that there's a reason that reading centuries old stories without any update or translation is hard and not always fun, and my story would be the same if I went for perfect accuracy.

Frankly, the vocabulary, morals, concerns, humor, and slang of a perfectly photo-realistic representation of the 1680s would be very nearly impenetrable, in my opinion, if it were represented accurately. We'd feel completely disconnected from the story or at most, have passing glimpses of relatability while wading through the language of a distant time period. I wanted the story to feel immediate, so I wanted to mostly use the language of today, the way the show does, and for probably the same reason.

3 ) I just don't want to do all that fucking research. Dear lord. Short of digging my way through Paradise Lost and a bunch of other literature from the time, there was no way I was going to be able to fluently represent the language of the 1600s and even if I did the language of literature still wouldn't be perfectly accurate. It would just be more "evoking" and a lot more of me stressing out for something most people wouldn't care about and that might actually make the story less enjoyable for a wide audience.

4 ) That said there were a few places where I tried to evoke that we're in a different time period, using some stock historical fiction tropes which are probably of dubious accuracy if I actually dug into 1600s literature. Things like dropping contractions, or throwing in the occasional archaism, formal language, or old-timey swear word.

In the name of perfect accuracy, may of these "old timey" things aren't accurate for the time either if one were to dig into the fact that say, Hob would probably be much more careful about using curse words that involve saying the Lord's name in vain, that sort of thing. But that was just one more thing I did not want to worry about, because it takes a lot of effort for very little return, in my opinion, and writing is hard enough as it is. These are the sort of concerns that keeps historical fiction writers from actually writing their story a lot of the time, because they go down the research rabbit hole and end up with a PhD but no historical fiction novel to speak of. (If this story was being written for publication, I'd probably still write this all the same way, then just go to a scholar of the time period and ask them to help me alter certain lines to be more accurate, but I'm not publishing this, so I won't lol.)

5 ) Now, as one last for-fun character note about the use of language, one might notice if they pay close attention that Hob's level of formality and modern language shifts in the fic. In my own mind, that has to do with his comfort levels. At the beginning of the story, he's much more formal, especially with Dream, and especially when he's nervous around Dream (in ch. 4 when talking about holding hands, he gets perhaps the most formal we ever see him because he is very nervous and starts talking too much and getting very archaic and loses track of his point as a result).

As the story has progressed, though, Hob has grown more comfortable around Dream and more comfortable speaking frankly with Dream. As a result, his language has grown much more modern, using contractions and a more casual tone.

6 ) As a final note, there is a conceit in the story that you, the reader, are not hearing things as they are actually being said. In theory if we were to time machine back to when the story is taking place, the way Dream and Hob talk would be very different. There is an idea inherent that the narrator is modernizing the language for the modern viewer. Everything that's being said is being accurately represented as far as spirit and tone, but the literal word choice has been altered for viewers like you :)

[soulsxng]

For the day of nastiness, I offer you this list of muses that go through heat, or something similar:

Ber and Niesal - Same species, they go through the same thing. They go through heat once every year to year and a half, but it usually lands somewhere between December and March. Lasts for about a week to ten days. Lots of period-like symptoms-- moodiness, bloating, cramping, fatigue, hot flashes, etc. They actually have a lower sex drive than usual during the beginning parts of their heat. It gets higher toward the end, when the worst of the other symptoms start to subside. Niesal usually goes through theirs with Reyul, since they're more or less synced up. Ber, on the other hand, tries his best to keep to himself during it, except in the verses that he's in a relationship with someone.

Darrow and Eleare - They...sort of have a heat that comes around during the spring time. More accurately, it's that they're only fertile during a month or two of Spring, and then just...isn't, the rest of the year. Aside from that though, they don't exhibit any symptoms, unless they're around another being that's in heat. In which case, it's mostly just horny, more dominant, more prone to fighting, preening and trying to make themselves appear more attractive/appealing to whoever is also in heat. Effects usually last for a couple hours after they're away from whoever triggered the symptoms in the first place.

Sivel and Alsina - I wrote a thing about the Vasyrus' heats here! One thing I didn't mention on there, is that the frequency of their heats largely depends on how long they've had a cycle for, as well as whether or not they're bonded/have a partner. Those that haven't had a cycle for long go into heat more frequently, and it gets a little farther apart the longer they've had one. Those that aren't bonded/have a partner go into heat more often as well, but have few to no "spontaneous" heats that they have to deal with. For Vasyrus that are bonded/have a partner, they can go longer between heats. However, they'll experience short, "spontaneous" heats that last for a day or two after starting very suddenly here and there between.

Tarinx - Well. Technically he doesn't actually have a heat right now, since Irekol is a very tropical clime, overall. If he were to spend a lot of time somewhere colder though, or in a place with more variable seasons and such, however, he would experience a heat cycle similar (but more mild) to Aro and Eleare's. One that would be triggered by a change from cold to warmer, more humid weather (Like 90 and up, I would say?) and would last...maybe 3-4 days at a time.

[typicaltypeone]

The Dexcom G6

There’s plenty of different ways and plenty of different brands of glucose monitors to help you keep track of your blood sugar. The Freestyle Libre is a pretty insurance friendly choice and a quick go to for many diabetics both type 1 and type 2.

But for those who can afford it, I use and recommend the Dexcom G6. It’s a wonderful setup that I’ve used twice in two different periods of my diabetic journey. I mention this because I’ve had two very different experiences with it based on my knowledge at the different points in time.

For beginners - I don't actually recommend using this if you’re only just starting out as a diabetic. While it is an amazing tool for later use, there is a catch to it. See, it reports your glucose levels in intervals of somewhere between fifteen to twenty minutes. On top of that it can take up to thirty minutes for insulin to kick in. As a beginner I found it very easy to “chase” after perfect numbers. I’d take medicine, get impatient, take even more, send myself into hypoglycemia, eat way too much and wind up with high blood sugar, then repeat the cycle. Be wary of this.

For average to experienced diabetics - Its amazing. Get it, use it. It’s a great way to avoid the constant pricking of your fingers. To stop being frustrated over how calloused your fingertips are getting and making it harder to draw blood. As a more experienced diabetic who understands better how insulin works now, my A1C has never been better than my second time using the Dexcom. Some perks to the Dexcom: 1. You can either use the App, or the hand held device delivered with your first package. I personally use the hand held device, as it’s more accurate and more easily picks up the signal from the monitor.

2. Super easy to charge. Comes with its own adapter and cord, and it doesn't even take two hours to fully charge it.

3. It’s water resistant! It’s waterproof up to a point, but best not to push its limits. However for just taking a bath or shower, or taking a normal swim in a pool, this thing will last you without issue. The adhesive is pretty good, though it can come slightly loose from hot water. However, its never come loose enough to ever be an issue for me.

4. If you miss one alert, it’s relentless in making sure you’re made aware. Especially good if you’re a heavy sleeper, if you miss an alert, every five minutes or so it will alert you again, while also progressively beeping louder each time. It gives me a lot of peace of mind for if my blood sugar dips during the night while i’m asleep. (I speak only for the handheld, as I’ve never tried the app. I dont know if the app also does this.)

5. Simple and easy applicator. I admit I’ve never used any other auto glucose monitor other than the Dexcom, but the applicator makes it so easy to put on. Do you feel it? Yes. But It feels like an itch, not painful and never has been for me.

6. It can later be used in conjunction with an insulin pump. I dont have any experience in this, as I still manually inject my insulin, but its a cool feature nonetheless.

Pretty awesome right? But it can be a little confusing when you first get the kit, so let me give you a nutshell layout of all the parts and what they do!

This is the applicator. You don't have to load anything into it. There is a number on the bottom on some paper that you use to help link it to your handheld device. But after removing that, all you do is take that orange tab off, press it to wherever you want your patch to be, then press the button! It inserts the sensing needle in flawlessly. I recommend rubbing along the adhesive to make sure it sticks well after using the applicator. The patch lasts ten days before needing replaced. Each applicator is only good for one use, then you discard it.

Here’s your transmitter. This tiny part is what takes the info from the patch/sensing needle, and as per its name, transmits it to your handheld/app. This piece is not automatically in the patch when you apply it to your body. You have to push it into the patch after application until it clicks. Doesn’t hurt in the slightest. It lasts for three months and can be reused until then. The patch, once taken off, can bend at a certain spot to easily remove the transmitter for the next patch.

Here’s a quick photo of what it looks like when the transmitter is locked into place inside of the patch. Warning! The adhesive can itch if you’re sensitive like me! I used to think this might be the needle poking me but trust me, that needle is not moving.

Here is the handheld device that comes with your supplies! I can personally attest that everything about this device appears as you see it in the picture. It shows you your last reported numbers, what time they’re recorded, and the arrow next to your number tells you if you’re headed up, down or steady. When setting it up it’ll ask you for basics like date and time, but it also asks you what you consider to be high blood sugar and low blood sugar, making it pretty easy to set goals for yourself as you slowly work to better control your blood sugar. I personally use the default settings. Anything below 70 is too low, and anything above 200 is too high. I still aim to stay within 90 to 150, but 200 is a good max limit I have for myself.

Something to know now that you know all your pieces; when setting up your Dexcom for the first time, it asks for a number, found either on the outside of the box, or on the bottom of the transmitter. Use the transmitter because there are at least four different numbers on the box your stuff comes in. There is only one number on your transmitter and that is the number you’re looking for. Makes it a lot easier. You’ll have to repeat this process every three months when you get a new transmitter.

To nutshell my nutshell, the only numbers you will need to be concerned with are:

The number found on the flat bottom side of your applicator, used when setting up each patch every ten days.

The number on your transmitter, used during first setup and then every three months.

Other than those, you don't need worry about any other numbers you see or find on boxes. You don’t even need to keep the boxes, though I tend to for easy storage of my applicators.

Another thing to note is that they send you 3 months worth at a time, so it’s easy to keep track of when you need a new transmitter. You need it when you simply run out of your whole batch of applicators.

And last thing I’ll say! As of this post there is a newer Dexcom out there, one meant to be worn on your arm rather than your belly. I have not used this and have no knowledge of how similar it may be to the Dexcom G6. Any questions on that should be sent to your doctor or endocrinologist.

DISCLAIMER: As always I am not a doctor or licensed medical professional. These are simply my experiences and observations as a type 1 Diabetic. You’re welcome to ask me about my experiences and personal journey but for any serious issues please seek professional help from your doctor or endocrinologist.

[hrwinter]

2021 Queer Book Wrap Up

Hello! In an effort to read less fanfiction, I tried to read more LGBT+ books in 2021. I made a list in case anyone else is also trying to pry themselves away from A03! I found most of these books through the 2020 kadoore.com Queer Adult Science Fiction & Fantasy Books List (there's 2021 and 2019, too). And friends were a great resource for recs, too!

Also, I don't want to be someone who makes any thoughtless, negative remarks, so rather than an actual review, I've simply written the set-up and some of my (mostly) positive comments. I starred (**) books I physically bought afterward. In many cases, I also bought the eBook for the library so they would have it in their collection for others to borrow! Look into your local library, it's awesome.

GETTING STARTED!

1. A Curse of Roses by Diana Pinguicha - f/f princess fantasy. I can't say I knew what was going on for a solid quarter of the first part of the book (mainly because I am not familiar with Portuguese history), but I rather liked the main character, and she was a true stand out in terms of characterization. I have often thought of some of the dialogue on religion and women (and self-hatred), and I think that was really original.

2. Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst - f/f princess fantasy. This one lacked a bit of substance, but I saw it like an excellent fanfiction. Mainly romance based, but still interesting. I did not continue the series.

3. Dreadnaught by April Daniels - f/f superhero. This has a trans woman main who becomes a superhero. I enjoyed her voice as well as the very accurate portrayal of sexism and transphobia (including a TERF character.) A bit thin on plot (it is YA), but ultimately very happy there's representation like this out there. I enjoyed the ride.

4. The Space Between Worlds** by Micaiah Johnson - f/f sci-fi. WOC queer main. Arguably my favorite book on this list. It may not be for everyone, but the author really spoke to me in so many ways, in my favorite genre, that I thought about it for long after. The world, the writing, just simply unparalelled, and I plan to read whatever she writes next.

5. Foundryside by Robert Jackson Bennett - f/f fantasy. While there's a WOC queer main, there's very little in the way of romance. That's not a drawback. I absolutely blazed through this story. I really enjoyed the magical universe and how similarly relatable it is to coding. Fresh and creative, I also enjoyed all of the characters. I read the second book, see below.

6. Shorefall by Robert Jackson Bennett - f/f fantasy. The follow-up to Foundryside. I read it in one day. The expansion of the world was really interesting, with some twists I guessed and others I didn't, but ultimately I felt a bit of the spark or humanity was lost from book 1 to book 2. Not planning to read book 3.

7. The Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics** by Olivia Waite - f/f period. My favorite part of this book (and forgive me if this is a spoiler in any way) is that there was no real fear that something terrible would happen to the characters. It was wonderfully fluffy while still holding compelling plot points and twists. I also have never learned so much about embroidery, and it made me long to gaze at stitched art.

8. The Poppy War** by R.F. Kuang - not f/f but not anything else. period? fantasy? I had a breakdown during the reading of this due to learning for the first time of the Rape of Nanking. I couldn't finish, but I plan to eventually. I bought it because I want to support the author, who is from my city. Also, from what I read, I could tell it would likely be excellent, but I just didn't have the mental wherewithal to finish.

9. How to Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone - f/f sci-fi. Really poetically written. Love a wlw sci-fi, but it's just a personal preference that I don't like letter-based stories. Still really beautifully described.

10. Kissing the Witch** by Emma Donoghue - f/f fantasy short stories. Lovely. Poetic. A testament to the economy of the word. Gay fairytales that are a quick read. What else can you ask for?

11. Malice by Heather Walter - f/f fantasy. A solidly written, interesting take on Sleeping Beauty. YA. I'm very curious about the sequel.

12. Something To Talk About by Meryl Wilsner - f/f fake relationship actress. I didn't finish this one, but the premise was interesting!

13. Breaking Character by Lee Winter - f/f actress. I might pledge my life for Bess. Summer is endearing as well, and apparently imagined as Melissa Benoist. Very much enjoyed.

14. Brutal Truth by Lee Winter - f/f media mogul/assistant set-up. This one really gave me Devil Wears Prada vibes. Very witty.

15. One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston - f/f soulmate-ish modern magic. I thought the writing and the dialogue were very well-done, witty, and entertaining. If you enjoy found family and New York, I'd say you'd also love this one. The side characters have a lot of substance and life.

16. The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells - this is a 6 book series I believe, but they are all pretty short. I'm not sure that I would classify it as queer either? But the lead is a nonbinary, asexual robot. I just really enjoyed the books and wanted to add it to my list!

18. Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers - I wasn't sure whether to add this as I didn't finish, but it seemed beautifully written, what little I read, and came highly acclaimed. I see it everywhere at book stores.

Also there are several I wish I'd finished but my concentration just really flagged! Those are the Bone Shard Daughter, The Jasmine Throne, and Crier's War. Hopefully in January of 2022!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 (interlude)

The Lotus Pier was a free and unrestrained place in comparison with the Cloud Recesses, and there was no similar prohibition on raising pets. This was a good thing, largely because Lan Wangji had recently started to think of his little found family primarily in animal metaphors.

It was, he concluded, because of the way Mo Xuanyu followed Jiang Cheng around like an imprinted duckling, with stars in his eyes and an unfortunate tendency to try to emulate his actions while possessing exactly none of the temperament required to pull any of it off.

Indeed, watching him wheezing his way through a threat to break Jin Ling’s legs was a sight worth seeing, especially with Lan Sizhui patting him on the back and encouraging him when he temporarily got stuck stuttering on the word ‘legs’.

Jiang Cheng, for all his faults and imperfections, could be terrifying when he wished to be, the blood of the battlefields of the Sunshot Campaign forever impressed upon his bones; with Zidian to hand, he could look commanding and fearsome, decisive and harsh, and with his sharp looks and sharper scowl, he cut a fine picture - even if Lan Wangji knew the truth, that behind all that sharpness was the soul of a grumpy marshmallow.

Mo Xuanyu, with his wild thatch-like hair that couldn’t be controlled no matter their joint efforts and even wilder and far more questionable taste in appearance, couldn’t hope to match him, and really ought to stop trying.

Naturally, Jin Ling looked about as convinced about the threats as he ever was when Jiang Cheng said it, meaning of course that he didn’t care one whit, but despite their initial concerns, he took to Mo Xuanyu quite well. Lan Wangji was initially puzzled by it, given their conflicting personalities, but Jiang Cheng insightfully (for once) pointed out that it was most likely that Jin Ling was willing to forgive quite a lot in exchange for having another person dressed in Lanling Jin gold around to make him feel less awkward about it.

The two of them together were two little goldfinches strutting around in a sea of purple – or, perhaps more accurately, two golden roly-poly puppies bounding around, tails wagging, trying to befriend the Jiang sect’s army of sleek haughty purple cats. They were accompanied, of course, by a small, gentle crane with a most un-Lan-like taste for spicy fish with radishes and absolutely no head for water travel.

(They were working with Lan Sizhui on that. He lived in the Jiang sect now; he couldn’t spend his whole life being seasick!)

“What does that make you, then?” Jiang Cheng asked when Lan Wangji – after incessant prodding – mentioned his thoughts on the subject of their growing nest. “Master Rabbit?”

Lan Wangji glared, but didn’t object to the characterization; regardless of his personality, there was good reason to make the association. This was largely because Lan Xichen had recently embarked on a mission to capture the rabbits Lan Wangji had been – not raising, precisely, because pets were forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but feeding on occasion when he had the time. He had brought them to Lan Wangji’s new “residence” at the Lotus Pier as a housewarming gift.

(Lan Wangji had no intention of moving out of Wei Wuxian’s bedroom, of course, but Jiang Cheng had long ago exercised his authority as sect leader to clear out the rooms just beyond it to create a small additional courtyard for him, in which he could exercise and meditate without being too far from the main quarters of the Jiang sect leader. As a result, the only change involved in his new, public, and above-board decision to reside in the Louts Pier was adding a new entranceway to make it appear as though they lived in separate albeit adjoining houses rather than living together in just one. Of course, it being the Lotus Pier, the new entranceway involved constructing not only a gate but a new bridge…)

“What exactly are we supposed to do with a bunch of rabbits?” Jiang Cheng had demanded at the time, staring down at them - there were rather more than Lan Wangji had remembered there being, but he supposed that was the nature of rabbits.

“I have no idea,” Lan Xichen had replied, smiling broadly. “But Wangji likes them.”

Lan Wangji had pretended that neither of them existed, and also that he was urgently needed elsewhere.

Later, Jiang Cheng had cornered him, demanding an explanation or else the rabbits would be sent down to the kitchens to be repurposed, and Lan Wangji had reluctantly confessed that they were from the burrow first established by the two wild rabbits Wei Wuxian had caught for him all those years ago.

Naturally there was no more talk of repurposing after that, and three sets of rabbit coops – far more than the rabbits Lan Wangji actually possessed required – mysteriously appeared in his small courtyard the next day.

“Wouldn’t want the stupid things to drown,” Jiang Cheng had grumbled when confronted with the evidence of his sentimentality. “If they attacked your garden and tried to burrow down they’d only hit water, and then where would we be? Awash in bunny corpses, that’s where, and that’s just unsanitary. I have a duty as sect leader to preserve the public health, you know.”

Lan Wangji had initially had some difficulty determining what type of animal Jiang Cheng was. He was as prickly as a porcupine, as standoffish as a hedgehog, as fickle as a cat, as graceful and vicious as an angry goose…

Recently, however, Lan Wangji had met a merchant from the south who had been selling a type of bird he called zishuiji, or purple swamphens – the merchant claimed that they were descended from the famous zhanniao, the poisonfeather zhen bird noted for their purple bellies, scarlet beaks, and deadly venom. Although Lan Wangji was moderately certain that the man was exaggerating for the sake of a sale, he had found himself compelled to purchase several sets to house in one of the empty rabbit coops, now moved to be placed in the main courtyard, nominally to be nearer to the waterways but mostly so that they’d be easily accessible to everyone - and, of course, to subtly harass Jiang Cheng.

It turned out that zishuiji could apparently be treated in much the same way as chickens. They were highly adaptable, but thrived best near water; they were generally shy around humans, but vicious in defending their territory, capable of biting and mobbing when provoked; and they preferred to raise their eggs with company –

Truly, he had found the right bird for Jiang Cheng.

(Not to mention the euphonious imagery of a purple hen strutting around with its purple lighting, zishuiji with zidian...truly, a picture meant for the ages. Lan Wangji determined at once to make a painting of it and insist Jiang Cheng hang it on some wall. Maybe even one of the ones in the main hall, where strangers could see.)

“Some of these are getting used for food,” Jiang Cheng insisted with a glare. “Some of the rabbits, too. There are no rules against the killing of livestock here, you hear me?”

Mo Xuanyu fell in love with them immediately – Jiang Cheng’s theory was that he was entranced by their iridescent feathers, while Lan Wangji’s view was that he recognized the innate Jiang Cheng-ness of them – and quickly took charge of their care, although Lan Sizhui and Jin Ling routinely assisted in collecting eggs.

Jiang Cheng reluctantly admitted, after some time, that the purchase had been a good one, if only because it served to settle their little awkward duckling into place, finally allowing Mo Xuanyu some sense of stability, as if having some type of small duty for which he was responsible was all he needed to believe that he wouldn’t be forced back to Lanling or to Mo village, his original place of origin, which he somehow feared even more than the backstabbing snakepit of Koi Tower.

(“You need to stop calling him a duckling,” Jiang Cheng said, quivering with laughter. “Do you know that could also mean…no, I’m not saying it. Anyway, he’s such an impressionable brat. Did you see what he did with that make-up he bought? He really does look a bit...”

From this, Lan Wangji inferred that the nickname was both extremely apt, extremely unfortunate, and had permanently stuck.)

In fact, despite initial concerns, it had been surprisingly comfortable to bring Mo Xuanyu into their lives at the Lotus Pier.

He was grateful and happy to be there, which helped; Lan Sizhui was welcoming, and Jin Ling somewhat reluctantly accepting, each for their own reasons, which helped more.

Best of all, he was at just the right age to be a regular disciple, and the current Jiang sect was especially welcoming to outsiders, having been cobbled together from a wide range of previously rogue cultivators and the small handful of survivors of the previous sect’s massacres. It improved Mo Xuanyu’s mood tremendously to be around boys and girls his own age, doing the same thing as them, without the weight of Lanling Jin’s expectations on his shoulders even if he sometimes wore their colors.

“He’s never going to be the most martially inclined,” Jiang Cheng opined after a small period of observation. “But he might make a decent administrator.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him sidelong in silent question, since Mo Xuanyu had not displayed any especially notable scholastic talents either. He had started cultivating fairly late, although obviously not as late as Jin Guangyao, but he lacked the other man’s genius for organization and management. Moreover, while his studies did admittedly exceeded the low bar set in Lan Wangji’s mind by Nie Huaisang’s miserable performance, that was a very low bar indeed.

(Nie Huaisang wasn’t stupid, he reminded himself once again. He was in fact extremely clever. And yet, even knowing what he knew, it was so easy to forget…)

“He’s kind and thoughtful of the well-being of others,” Jiang Cheng said, averting his gaze and pretending his cheeks weren’t tinting red. “Calligraphy and math, people skills, that can all be learned, but at least he has the important part down…I told you to stop doing that.”

Lan Wangji ignored him and continued to smile.

“Freak,” Jiang Cheng muttered, then shook his head. “I can’t believe anyone actually listens to you. Least of all me!”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. That part was Jiang Cheng’s own fault – he’d been using Lan Wangji as a sounding board more or less from the beginning, and started making him do some of his paperwork as soon as he’d been regularly awake for more than a shichen at a time under the barely plausible claim that it was good for him to exercise his hands. Now that Lan Wangji was officially out of seclusion, Jiang Cheng had promptly shoveled even more work at him – despite the fact that they were supposedly at each other’s throats.

The Jiang disciples that had not been in the loop – most of them, to Lan Wangji’s mild surprise – adjusted quickly, especially after they noticed the long-suffering expressions on the faces of Jiang Cheng’s immediate deputies. They had remained wary for a while, possibly expecting Lan Wangji to seek to implement the Lan sect rules at any moment, but after a time he had managed to win their confidence through his efficient administration and respect for their customs.

He did…rather a lot, actually. He reviewed the sect’s accounts along with Jiang Cheng, managed certain negotiations, oversaw the continuing reconstruction efforts, reviewed submitted proposals –

All things that the Lan sect did as well, but which had never come to him before. Lan Wangji suspected that in many cases, they did not even come to his brother or his uncle, who were nominally in charge of such things; the Lan sect disdained such worldly affairs, while the Jiang sect embraced them.

Although while he was on the subject of being above worldly affairs, it occured to him that he had not had an opportunity to take Bichen out recently, and it would be good to do so. He would need to come up with some excuse to insist on Jiang Cheng accompanying him for a night hunt sometime soon, some reason that would stand up to scrutiny from the outside.

As for convincing Jiang Cheng himself, however, that would be no problem.

“We are going night-hunting soon,” he informed Jiang Cheng, who looked appalled by the very thought.

“You’re joking, right?” he demanded. “Do you know how much work we have to do? The yearly update with the dyer’s guild is –”

“Not for another two months, and preparation typically takes only two weeks.”

“Reconstruction –”

“Does not require constant supervision at this stage.”

“The – there’s training –”

Lan Wangji attempted to convey his feelings on the validity of that excuse entirely through his facial expression, and it must have worked because Jiang Cheng crumbled at once, grumbling to himself.

“Who’ll we leave the children with?” he tried. “Especially with Xuanyu being so new – oh, all right. It’s weak and I know it, you don’t have to give me that judgmental look of yours.”

“If Jiang Wanyin believes that his skills have gotten so rusty that he would be unable to keep up…”

“I’m going to break your legs,” Jiang Cheng hissed at him. “I’m going to – to – oh, wait, actually, there is a reason we can’t go just yet. We’re expecting honored guests!”

Lan Wangji arched his eyebrows.

“You wouldn’t have seen the report yet, it’s still on our desk,” Jiang Cheng said. “You know of the Baixue Temple, right?”

Lan Wangji looked askance, indicating that he had of course heard of the temple, a renowned place of learning, but that he presumed that that was not what Jiang Cheng meant and also that perhaps Jiang Cheng would like to get to the point at some time before their deaths from old age.

“Fuck you too,” Jiang Cheng said conversationally, having learned the nuances of Lan Wangji’s expressions by now. “It was attacked recently, and rumor has it that it was Xue Yang that did it. Yes, the same Xue Yang who did the Chang clan massacre, the one the Jin sect was protecting before they washed their hands of him.”

Lan Wangji frowned.

“They made it through with relatively minimal casualties,” Jiang Cheng assured him. “Out of luck, mostly – when Xue Yang disappeared before his trial, the Nie sect made sure word got out everywhere, and Lianfeng-zun, who might’ve quashed it, even helped spread them, instead. From what I understand, Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen returned to Baixue Temple to make sure it wouldn’t be attacked over their part in Xue Yang’s initial arrest, as it later turned out to be - truly, evil is mundane and predictable. They led the defensive efforts and saved many lives.”

Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen –

Lan Wangji had heard Jiang Cheng speak of them before, of course. Rogue cultivators of considerable fame, who had refused all offers to join any of the sects, major or minor, but instead professed a desire to start a cultivation school of the old-fashioned sort, valuing affinity and merit over blood relation.

Not that that was what had caught the attention of Lan Wangj, or of Jiang Cheng for that matter.

Rather, it was said that Xiao Xingchen was a disciple of Baoshan Sanren, the famous immortal that lived secluded on the mountain. That made him Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle, and both of them were shamelessly interested in all things relating even tangentially to Wei Wuxian, however indirectly.

Jiang Cheng had sent several invitations for a visit back when the Chang clan disaster had happened. None had been accepted, which was probably all for the best – he had had to stop inviting them on account of how they’d angered the Jin sect over the matter.

(It had caused Jiang Cheng no end of nightmares, the feeling of complicity in a massacre just like the one that had destroyed his own sect sending him into a spiral of self-hatred, questioning his own morality and righteousness, wondering if his ancestors were judging him and finding him wanting, wondering if Wei Wuxian was –

It had not been a good time, a thankfully temporary reversion back to the bad days closer to the start. But Jiang Cheng was better now.)

“Why accept an invitation now?” Lan Wangji asked.

“They’re planning on hunting him down, I think, and having learned a little bit from last time, they want to get as many allies on board as possible in advance,” Jiang Cheng said, and shook his head at the depressing need to account for worldly politics when seeking to live a righteous life. A lesson hard-learned, for both of them. “They wrote to me first, this time. In return, I plan to indicate that they are welcome to come to the Lotus Pier to try to convince me – we’ll agree to help them, of course, but it’ll be nice to share a meal with them. Maybe some stories.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said. “And entertainment, of course.”

Jiang Cheng looked at him.

“We should take them night-hunting,” Lan Wangji elaborated, and Jiang Cheng scowled at him.

“There are oxen less stubborn than you! Donkeys! Geese!”

Lan Wangji was not a goose. A crane, perhaps, like Lan Sizhui – gentle and graceful and well-educated, with a sharp beak that most people overlooked.

He suspected Jiang Cheng would argue instead for the goose.

“I will write to my brother,” he said, opting to change the subject. “Xue Yang is a sensitive subject for his sworn brothers, as you know. It would be best to prepare him should they resume their fight with each other.”

“Oh, that’s just what we need,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Lianfeng-zun and Chifeng-zun at each other’s throats again…did I tell you about the series of small but extremely irritating disasters that happened that time I was at Koi Tower? The room flooding, the too-thick incense, the – the thing with the cat –”

“I also recall you coming back from a night-hunt with Chifeng-zun with an expression suggesting that someone had put the fear of death into you, yes,” Lan Wangji said.

“It’s Chifeng-zun. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding any circumstances where he could have the same talk with you!”

Lan Wangji did not deny it. As he was not a sect leader, he could avoid such things with much greater ease than poor Jiang Cheng – who was glaring again.

“You should try harder to get along with him,” he remarked, and Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed even further. “You have many things in common –”

“Lan Wangji. You are, as A-Yuan’s father, permitted to set up as many playdates for him as you’d like. You are not permitted to do the same for me.”

Lan Wangji nodded, indicating that would give that all the consideration it deserved, namely none.

Jiang Cheng made a sound not unlike the whistling of a boiling pot.

Lan Wangji decided that a triumphant but timely retreat was appropriate.

[snowwhitelass]

Sam Heughan’s Instagram Story, June 17th 2022

Sam Heughan in Channel 4’s Suspect

ANTHONY ELLISON

How deep are you in filming the new series of Outlander?

We’re shooting season seven and it’s flying by. It feels like we started yesterday but already we’re on our sixth episode. This season is going to take a while, it’s an 18-episode bumper mega season, so we probably won’t be finished until March or February of next year. It’s a big one this year as last year we had to reduce it by six episodes because of Covid and my co-star [Caitríona Balfe] was pregnant, so we moved it.

Did you ever expect it to become this big?

In one word: no. Absolutely not. I didn’t know anything of the books when I first started and I remember my first day with my driver and we were driving into work, and he was like ‘How long do you think this will go for?’ and I said: ‘Probably a year, maybe two?’

Next year it’ll be a decade. So it has been quite a journey, but it’s been incredible, it’s changed my life. It’s been hard graft, but really rewarding.

There’s apparently three more books until the end of the saga. Do you know how Jamie and Claire are going to end up?

Diana Gabaldon [the writer-creator] actually revealed to me how the whole thing’s going to end. She emailed me the last few pages of what will be the last book very early on, I think in the first few weeks of shooting and no one else has seen that I think, apart from one other exec producer. Even Caitríona’s not seen it and I’m sworn to secrecy.

What can you tell us about the prequel that’s been announced?

All I can tell you is I’m not in it, as Jamie’s not in it! I believe that it’s a prequel focusing on Jamie’s parents when they were younger, so I guess you might see a young version of him at some point. But I think I may be a little too old to play young Jamie now! I could play his dad maybe, or a flash forward? It is time travel, after all.

You obviously have to go into beast mode when training for the series, but there’s such a big gap between series – the fans call this period ‘Droughtlander’ – do you still hit it hard or do you give yourself a bit of time off?

I think it’s fair to say that I can’t really stop training, I just enjoy it. Before I was more into endurance sports, I did marathons, triathlons, but Outlander really got me interested in more gym-based workouts; cross-fit and free weights. I really enjoy it.

Did you have to work out a historically accurate way of being ripped?

Absolutely. The first conversation I had with the trainer at the start of the series was that Jamie’s obviously not in the gym; he’s a farmer and he’s a warrior, so that’s the type of body we tried to build for Jamie when he was younger. So there were a lot of compound lifts to strengthen and conditioning, but mostly upper body, back and shoulders. It certainly wasn’t about getting a six pack, fortunately for me so I didn’t have to worry about that too much. He’s a very capable man, therefore we had to build a body that reflected that according to the time.

PATRICIA BOARD

It’s handy then that your next role in Suspect spends a rather large part of a scene topless in the gym, then. Other than that, what attracted you to this role?

It’s such a great cast, when I saw the people that were attached to it, then I read the script, it was really strong and so interesting. Essentially each episode is a two-hander, just one or two scenes, but all continuous; one extended take, which makes for a great challenge.

Your character Ryan, is a bad cop and a bit of a shit. Was that part of the appeal?

They always say bad guys are the more fun parts to play and I loved it - he was so exceptional. He’s a bit of a dark character, who’s got himself into some tricky situations, he’s got a bit of a habit and he’s slightly volatile. It’s fun to not always be the good guy - Jamie Fraser is the king of men, so it’s nice to play something different. My background is theatre so I enjoy stretching myself and playing different roles.

Surely the biggest role you’ve auditioned for to date must be Bond. What was the audition like?

I was called in when they were doing Bond 21, so before they had Daniel [Craig] again. I think they were looking into a younger James Bond, which is what I suspect will happen next. It was such a strange experience, but I enjoyed it. I went in with a script and they were like: “We might get you to read something from this scene” but they don’t tell you what it’s from. After that I was taken upstairs and I met Barbara Broccoli and Martin Campbell, the director at the time. There was a golden gun on the table - I guess from The Man With The Golden Gun? - and we sat around a very large wooden table and talked a bit about Bond. It was strange, as they didn’t want to talk about Bond, but they talked about Bond. It’s all very secret service.

Just about every British actor has had their name attached to it at some point. Do you think they’re worked their way through all the contenders now, and they might need to start going back over them?

I have no idea and I think everyone is always trying to second guess them. But I think the role’s fantastic and I’d love to throw my oversized hat into the ring again if they are! It’d be nice to see a Scottish Bond again.

A rom-com is next in line for you [It’s All Coming Back To Me] was that a conscious decision to dabble in a completely different genre?

It’s a fun, heart-warming script. With comedy, I was like, can I do this? I guess the proof will be in the pudding, but I really enjoy that side of it; a bit of silliness.

The film centres around Celine Dion’s opus - are you a fan? Have you ever belted out one of her songs on karaoke?

I wasn’t a fan before, but now, she’s the queen. As for karaoke, I would never. Never. It’s one of my pet peeves. I used to hate karaoke, I’d go to a karaoke bar with my friends and refuse to sing.

Surely being stage school trained it should be impossible to wrench a microphone from your hand?

I went to drama school and in our singing lessons I sang the same song every time for over a year, then I stopped going. In fact, the teacher even allowed me not to turn up because it just wasn’t my bag.

I guess that counts out any musicals for you in the future.

Never say never, I like a challenge!

The rom-com era is surely going to propel you into bigger heartthrob status. Can you still walk down the street anonymously?

I occasionally get recognised walking down the street. In Scotland, where I normally am, people are a bit more relaxed, they’re not so bothered about people they see in the streets but in America people always want to come and say hi and take a picture.

You’re an actor who manages to draw a distinct line between their public life and their private life really well. Is that something you made a decision about early on in your career?

I think so. Things like social media are probably the least useful tool for actors, obviously it’s a great way to promote yourself and whatever you’re doing, but I always thought an actors job was to remain anonymous so then you can play different roles, so you don’t see the actor, you see the character. But the more popular you get, the more aware you need to be about what you’re releasing, and for me, I’m quite a private person.

There’s always speculation about who you might be dating - is that an off-limits subject for you?

I don’t really talk about who I’m dating, but that’s more for me. I’m sure there have been times when I've been open about it but I think it puts too much pressure mostly on your partner or yourself, but also their families as well, as fans can be pretty…intense.

I hear you’re into antique collecting and have a bit of a collection in your man cave - what’s your newest addition?

I’m obsessed with the River Thames and mudlarking - an expert, Lara Maiklem sent me a couple of pipes which I found fascinating. Finding stuff from the Roman period and before - I just think it reveals so much about human beings and the lives that have been lived in the same area. Even where I’m living now in Scotland is near the Antonine Wall, which I am obsessed with, and obsessed with the history of.

If you could be transported back to any time in the past, when would it be? Or would you rather go into the future?

Future - I’m slightly scared but also fascinated with the future and space has always been a big appeal to me. I’d love to venture into space.

Would you ever be a space tourist? What’s the going rate to jump on Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk’s rockets, like £100,000?

Absolutely, sign me up. There’s still a great deal on Earth that we still don’t know but I would love to go into space, going on the moon would be pretty special.

Alongside acting, your endurance challenges for charity and your spirit brands, what do you do when you take some downtime?

Yeah, when you put it like that, I should probably sleep more! If I watch TV, I actually rarely watch drama, I mostly watch documentaries, I love a good documentary. That Val Kilmer one [Val] was great, especially now with the new Top Gun coming out. I just really enjoy documentaries as I really think that sometimes, life is more interesting than fantasy.

https://www.esquire.com/uk/culture/tv/a40273450/sam-heughan-interview-bond-suspect/

[luckgods]

Why all the white guys in whump?

I got Inspired by a post asking that question, and here we are. Warning: long post ahead.

I think it’s due to a combination of factors, as things frequently are.

The preference for / prevalence of white male characters in fandom is well-known and has been examined pretty thoroughly by people already.

What’s worth noting for discussing this tendency in whump in particular is that the ‘whump fandom’ itself is not a ‘fandom’ in the traditional sense of being made of fans of one single source narrative (or source setting, like a particular comics fandom, or the Star Wars extended universe) with pre-existing characters. Although subsets of traditional fandoms certainly exist within the larger whump fandom, a lot of whump is based on original, ‘fan’-created characters.

So, given the tendency of ‘traditional’ fandoms to create stories disproportionately centered on white male characters due to the source material itself being centered on white male characters (and giving more narrative weight to them, characterizing them better, etc), if we say hypothetically that the whump fandom is split say 50/50 between ‘traditional’ fandom works and original whump works, you’d expect to see a higher number of works focused on white men than the demographics of the ‘traditional’ fandom’s source work would predict, but not as extreme of a divergence between the source material & the fanworks as the one you’d see if whump fandom were 100% based on popular media.

However, that doesn’t quite seem to be the case. Whump stories and art remain focused on overwhelmingly male and frequently white characters, which means that the tendency of the fandom to create stories disproportionately centered on white male characters cannot be ONLY explained by the source material itself being centered on white male characters (and giving more narrative weight to them, characterizing them better, etc).

And, having established the fact that whump writers & artists presumably have MORE control over the design of their characters than writers & artists in ‘traditional’ fandoms, we have to wonder why the proportions remain biased towards men, & white men in particular.

—

The race thing is pretty simple in my opinion. Mostly, it’s just another extension of the fanbase’s tendency to reflect the (predominantly US-American, on tumblr) culture it exists in, which means that, in a white-centric culture, people make artworks featuring white people.

There’s also the issue of artists being hesitant to write works that dwell heavily on violence towards people of color due to the (US-American) history of people of color being violently mistreated. I’ve actually seen a couple of posts arguing that white people SHOULDN’T write whump of nonwhite characters (particularly Black characters) because of the history of actual violence against Black bodies being used as entertainment, which means that fictional violence against Black people, written by white people, for a (presumed) white audience, still feels exploitative and demeaning.

I'm not going to get into all my thoughts on this discussion here but suffice to say that there's probably an impact on the demographics of whump works from authors of color who simply... don't want to see violence against people of color, even non-explicitly-racialized violence, and then another impact from white authors who choose not to write non-white characters either due to the reasons stated above, or simply due to their personal discomfort with how to go about writing non-white characters in a genre that is heavily focused on interpersonal violence.

Interestingly enough, there’s also a decent proportion of Japanese manga & anime being used as source material for whump, and manga-styled original works being created. The particular relationship between US-American and Japanese pop culture could take up a whole essay just by itself so I’ll just say, there’s a long history of US-Japanese cultural exchange which means that this tendency is also not all that surprising.

—

GENDER though. If someone had the time and the energy they could make a fucking CAREER out of examining gender in whump, gender dynamics in whump, and why there seems to be a fandom-wide preference for male whumpees that cannot be fully explained by the emphasis on male characters in the source text.

I have several different theories about factors which impact gender preference in whump, and anyone who has other theories (or disagrees with mine) is free to jump in and add on.

THEORY 1: AUTHOR GENDER AND PERSONAL EXPERIENCE.
 Fandom in general is predominantly female, although these days it might be more accurate to say that fandom is predominantly composed of cis women and trans people of all genders. However, pretty much everyone who isn't a cis man has had to contend with the specter of gendered violence in their real personal life. Thus, if we posit whump (and fandom more generally) as a sort of escapist setup, it's not hard to see why whump authors & artists might willfully eschew writing female whumpees (especially in the case of inflicted whump), because (as in the discussion of people of color in whump above), even violence towards women that is explicitly non-gender-based may still hit too close to home for people whose lives have been saturated with the awareness of gender-based violence.

THEORY 2: SICK OF SEXY SUFFERING.
 Something of an addendum to theory 1, it's worth noting that depictions of female suffering in popular media are extremely gendered (in that they specifically reflect real-life gender-based violence, and that said real-life violence is almost exclusively referenced in relation to female characters) and frequently sexualized as well. There's only so many times you can see female characters having their clothes Strategically Ripped while they're held captive, being sexually menaced (overtly or implicitly) to demonstrate How Evil the villain is, or just getting outright sexually assaulted for the Drama of it all before it gets exhausting, especially when the narratives typically either brush any consequences under the rug, or dwell on them in a way that feels more voyeuristic and gratuitous than realistic and meaningful. All this may result in authors who, given the chance to write their own depictions of suffering, may decide simply to remove the possibility of gendered violence by removing the female gender.

THEORY 3: AUTHOR ATTRACTION. 
I'll admit that this one is more a matter of conjecture, as I haven't seen any good demographic breakdowns of attraction in general fandom or whump fandom. That said, my own experience talking to fellow whump fans does indicate that attraction to the characters (whether whumpers, or whumpees) is part of the draw of whump for some people. This one partially ties into theory 1 as well, in that people who are attracted to multiple genders may not derive the same enjoyment out of seeing a female character in a whumpy situation as they might seeing a male character in that situation, simply because of the experience of gendered violence in their lives.

THEORY 4: ACCEPTABLE TARGETS.
 The female history of fandom means that there's been a lot more discussion of the impacts of depicting pain & suffering (especially female suffering) for personal amusement. Thus, in some ways, you could say that there is a mild taboo on putting female characters through suffering if you can't "justify" it as meaningful to the narrative, not just titillating, which whump fandom rarely tries or requires anyone to do. This fan-cultural 'rule' may impact whump writers' and artists' decisions in choosing the gender of their characters.

THEORY 5: AN ALTERNATIVE TO MAINSTREAM MASCULINITY.
 Whump fandom may like whumping men because by and large, mainstream/pop culture doesn't let men be vulnerable, doesn't let them cry, doesn't let them have long-term health issues due to constantly getting beat up even when they really SHOULD, doesn't let them have mental health issues period. Female characters, as discussed in theory 2, get to ("get to") go through suffering and be affected by it (however poorly written those effects are), but typically, male characters' suffering is treated as a temporary problem, minimized, and sublimated into anger if at all possible. (For an example, see: every scene in a movie where something terrible happens and the male lead character screams instead of crying). So, as nature abhors a vacuum, whump fandom "over-produces" whump of men so as to fill in that gap in content.

THEORY 6: AMPLIFIED BIAS.
 While it's true that whump fandom doesn't have a source text, it's also true that whump fans frequently find their way into the fandom via other 'traditional' fandoms, and continue participating in 'traditional' fandoms as part of their whump fandom activity. Bias begets bias; fandom as a whole has a massive problem with focusing on white male characters, and fans who are used to the bias towards certain types of characters in derivative works absolutely reproduce that bias in their own original whump works.

—

I honestly think that there is greater bias in the whump fandom than anyone would like to admit. Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems as though whump fans avoid introspection and discussion of the issue by bringing up the points I talked about in my previous theories, particularly discomfort with depictions of female suffering for amusement.

However, I think that, as artists, we owe it to ourselves and one another to engage in at least a small amount of self-interrogation over our preferences, and see what unconscious or unacknowledged biases we possess. It's a little absurd to argue that depictions of women as whumpees are universally too distressing to even discuss when a male character in the exact same position would be fine and even gratifying to the person making that argument; while obviously, people have a right to their own boundaries, those boundaries should not be used to shut down discussion of any topics, even sensitive ones.

Furthermore, engaging in personal reflection allows artists to make more deliberate (and meaningful) art. For people whose goal is simply to have fun, that may not seem all that appealing, but having greater understanding of one's own preferences can be very helpful towards deciding what works to create, what to focus on when creating, and what works to seek out.

—

GENDER ADDENDUM: NONBINARY CHARACTERS, NONBINARY AUTHORS. 
Of course, this whole discussion so far has been exclusively based on a male-female binary, which is reductive. (I will note, though, that many binary people do effectively sort all nonbinary people they know of into 'female-aligned' and 'male-aligned' categories and then proceed to treat the nonbinary people and characters they have categorized a 'female-aligned' the same way as they treat people & characters who are actually female, and ditto for 'male-aligned'. That tendency is very frustrating for me, as a nonbinary person whose gender has NOTHING to do with any part of the binary, and reveals that even 'progressive' fandom culture has quite a ways to go in its understanding of gender.)

Anyways, nonbinary characters in whump are still VERY rare and typically written by nonbinary authors. (I have no clue whether nonbinary whump fans have, as a demographic group, different gender preferences than binary fans, but I'd be interested in seeing that data.)

As noted above with female characters, it's similarly difficult to have a discussion about representation and treatment of nonbinary characters in whump fandom, and frankly in fandom in general. Frequently, people regard attempts to open discussions on difficult topics as a call for conflict. This defensive stance once again reveals the distaste for requests of meaningful self-examination that is so frequent in fandom spaces, and online more generally.

—

TL;DR: Whump is not immune to the same gender & racial biases that are prevalent in fandom and (US-American) culture. If you enjoy whump: ask yourself why you dislike the things you dislike— the answer may surprise you. If you create whump: ask yourself whose stories you tell, and what stories you refuse to tell— then ask yourself why.

[bookish-enneagram]

Anakin Skywalker | Sexual Type Nine | Full Profile

Basic Fear: Of loss and separation; of annihilation

Basic Desire: To maintain their inner stability and peace of mind

Superego Message: "You are good or okay as long as those around you are good or okay."

Focus of Attention: on others, on what is going on in the environment, and on avoiding conflict and achieving harmony.

Passion: Sloth

Anakin lived a life that was entirely for other people. Specifically those close to him; his mother, Obi-Wan, Padme, Chancellor Palpatine, Ashoka, and eventually Luke. Anakin was known for how much he loved and cared for these individuals, and in reality he merged with them and their needs. All Nines need to merge with something on account of their passion, which I will explain. Unlike a Self-Preservation Nine, who merges with physical comforts and routines, or a Social Nine who merges with the group, Anakin merges with specific individuals, like a classic Sexual, or One-to-One Nine.

We will start by acknowledging his greatest fear, and what drove him to the Dark Side; his fear of loss. Anakin had this fear going back to when he was a child. His mother was his whole life and, like any child, it pained him to leave her, telling her he’d come back for her. This sense of loss extended to Obi-Wan, Palpatine, Ashoka, and Padme. We see in the Revenge of the Sith novelization, which I highly recommend, how much he worries about Obi-Wan and Palpatine. With Padme, it’s much more obvious. He was willing to do anything, even monstrous things, to avoid losing her. This was a product of his disintegration to Six.

To start this section out, not all Nines disintegrating to Six will commit mass genocide and kill children. Rather this is a fictional event. However, the causes behind the action are definitely from his disintegration. At the beginning of Revenge of the Sith, he is at Level 4 of type Nine’s Levels of Development. He is accommodating to his friends and the Jedi council and somewhat lacks a will of his own, which we will discuss more later.

When he has the dream about Padme, he starts freaking out and goes into frantic action. The only way he’s okay is if she’s okay. It is unbelievably accurately stated in this excerpt by Don Richard Riso:

“At Level 4, Nines are busy accommodating themselves to the wishes and expectations of others. They put their own agendas on the “back burner” and comply with other people’s demands in order to reduce the possibility of conflicts. When circumstances cause their anxieties to increase, they may well go to Six and engage in lots of “organizational activity.” Like average Sixes, they attempt to stabilize their environment and their relationships in order to make them safer. They may get into intensive periods of work, investing their time and energy in activities they believe will enhance their security, and thus their peace of mind. These actions are guided not by positive intention, however, but by anxiety. They also begin to identify more strongly with protectors, supporters, groups, or ideas that increase their self-confidence and give them a feeling of purpose and direction.”

He works so hard to prevent Padme’s death, so far as joining the Sith, to enhance his security and peace of mind by having the power to keep her alive. It’s all guided by a sense of anxiety fueled by a fear of loss. Now, regarding his self-confidence. I believe what looked like arrogance near the end of the movie was part of his move to Six. He began to identify more with Palpatine and his beliefs and less with the Jedi. This gave him purpose and direction by giving him a sense of justification for all that was being done. As if he was doing the right thing. “The Jedi are evil”, “I’ve brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new empire”, and “if you’re not with me, you’re my enemy” are some examples of this self-confidence. You could say he even merged with Darth Vader.

Another extremely important thing to mention which I vaguely mentioned earlier is the Passion of the Nine. The Passion is one of the most important things in finding a person or character’s Enneagram type. For Anakin, the Passion is Sloth. This may seem odd, considering he is a human. But Sloth in this regard is an inattention to self, not the animal. Now, this plays out in various ways depending on the subtype, whether Sexual, Social, or Self-Preservation. For Anakin, a Sexual type, his attention is focused on close relationships, as I said earlier. He completely merges with those close to him and they become his focus of attention, not his own wants or needs. He does seem more willful and assertive than a classic Sexual Nine, but that is due to his Eight wing, which conflicts with the Nine in that it gives Nines with an Eight wing more of an instinctual drive, as stated below:

“Nines with an Eight-wing are more sensual and instinctive than the Nines with a One-wing, and tend to operate more on feelings and hunches. They tend to embody more the easygoing demeanor associated with Nines, but also give the impression of being more “physical,” more grounded. This is one of the most difficult subtypes to understand because the component types are in such diametrical opposition to each other.”

Darth Vader. The typing is exactly the same and I will tell you why. Nothing has changed about him. He just has no one, no purpose. He deteriorates to an extremely unhealthy Nine, specifically Level 9, and it takes him finding out about Luke to bring him back. Some lines from Riso about Level 9 Nines below:

“They disintegrate as persons into the most extreme state of dissociation from who they are. As we have seen, their receptive orientation to life has facilitated their flight from self-awareness. Now, they completely flee from themselves. In most cases, neurotic Nines unconsciously abandon themselves as whole persons, reinvesting consciousness into various fragments of themselves, each of which may represent an aspect of the self which has been repressed and denied and undeveloped. Memories, dreamlike trances, and emotional reactions seem to come and go at random. It is as though the very structure of the personality has come “unglued” or broken apart, and only its constituents remain to interact with the environment. To abandon themselves as persons, retreating into complete dissociation and fragmenting their personalities, is a “solution” of sorts, because then it is not really they who live but someone else through whom they can live. We have seen that average Nines tend to live through the other; now we see that they live through the other-self, the fragments of the self which are little more than the disconnected identifications and relationships with significant others from the Nine’s past. The core self has been so traumatized that it is as though in a dream without a dreamer. This can hardly be called living. Furthermore, because one of the subpersonalities can do harm to other people or to itself, this is neither a safe nor truly adaptive way to live. Moreover, Nines who so feared losing or separating from others have not only psychologically done so, they have also separated from and lost themselves.”

As well as:

“Unhealthy Nines with an Eight-wing are capable of violence with little concern about the consequences of their actions. Aggressions and id impulses are strong in people of this subtype, and when they are emotionally unstable, there is little ego strength left to regulate these forces.”

Basically, Vader lost who he was. It isn’t him, he’s broken and dissociated from his true self; the helpful, caring friend, mentor, and husband. His whole outlook changes when he finds out about Luke. He is given purpose again. He tries to have him join him and have them rule the galaxy as father and son. His last act is saving the son that brought him back to the light, and all of this makes him a pretty damn good character all around.

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | chapter eleven

chapter eleven

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: Y/N POV: details of what happened to Stephen, her grandmas cancer, and very detailed explanations of how babies are made (as biologically accurate and not very graphic as possible) this is an angsty trauma filled chapter that made me cry a lot just writing it so I'm sorry in advance

word count: 3K

from the beginning <3

June 13th, 2010

There’s a knock on her parent's door at 4 in the morning, Y/N’s sound asleep on the couch back at her grandma’s, awoken by said grandmother as she hears all the noise beyond the porch. There are 2 cop cars at the main house, worry starts to settle over them.

She puts on a pair of shoes, taking her grandmother's hand in hers as they begin the early morning trek up the road, anxiety seeping in deeper and deeper as they get closer to the lights illuminating their driveway.

Her father is talking to an officer on the steps, her mother is crying behind him. “We’re so sorry for your loss,” the officer says and Y/N’s blood runs cold, numbing her from the impending despair.

“What happened?” Her grandmother asks, rubbing a hand along Y/N’s back in preparation for the worst.

“Evan was in a car accident,” her father says softly, knowing that Y/N knows Stephen was with him tonight. She breaks away from her grandma and without thinking she’s right in the officer's face.

“Which one of them died?”

“Ma’am,” it was never a good way to start the worst conversation of her life with that word or in that tone. She felt like a '40s housewife learning her husband wasn’t coming home from the war, only he wasn’t even her husband yet.

He would have been on next Saturday.

“I’m sorry, Stephen was pronounced dead on the scene,” he says the worst sentence she’s ever heard, and now she’ll never forget it. “The passenger side took the worst of it, once again, I am so sorry for your loss.”

She’s surprisingly calm, managing to whisper, “thank you,” before she’s walking off into the field, pushing everyone's hands away as she travels as far as he feet will take her.

She ends up at the willow tree by the pond as soon as the sun is rising, it happened a lot earlier in June than the rest of the year. The birds singing, the wind blowing against the leaves making them carry a tune in harmony together. The world is still spinning, life is moving on, but how?

She sat there against the tree for a while, picking blades of grass and weaving them into a chain, soothing her brain as she makes a pattern. Giving her hands something to do so they stop going numb, it’s the only thing that really reminds her that she's real, that she’s controlling the twists and tucks, the shape and length and the fact that it was created at all.

Ending the life of the single blade of grass as she picks it, never to be whole again. Snatched from its happy place, where it grew loved and surrounded by other matching green strands as they blew in the wind.

Then she's pulling fist full after fist full of grass out of the dirt, her hands covered in mud as she shouts, throwing handfuls of grass and dirt towards the pond. The once blue water starting to turn cloudy; disrupted and upset with her anger as it swallows her weapons, but it doesn’t make her feel better. All she did was disrupt the earth, changing the way this once beautiful patch of land used to look. She couldn’t help but sob, realizing that she was like this field now and her beautiful green pasture was disrupted, overturned and ruined.

The life that flowed through her died along with the love of her life.

“Stephen was pronounced dead on the scene,” the words echo in her mind in a constant circle like she’s stuck in a tin can.

It starts to reverberate, getting louder and louder as the same 7 words all run around in her head. Bouncing off the walls, smacking her down again and again as she hears them over and over and over… she’s holding her hands on her ears, shaking back and forth, sobbing when she feels someone wrap their arms around her.

She doesn’t open her eyes, instead, she's rushing to push them off of her, struggling out of their grasp as she fights them. Finally, she loses, being held in her brother's embrace as they both cry, he barely has a scratch on him when she finally looks at him.

she’s never been physical in her life, but she punched him right in the face. Her twin brother, best friend in childhood and the person she’s known the longest in her life. He held her close in the womb, crying if they separated as soon as they were born, she loved him deeply and yet she hated him something fierce at that moment.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Evan cries, “we were stopped at a red light, Y/N!”

“I don’t care! He was supposed to be my husband!” She swats at him, smacking his arms again and again as he tries to hold them back, holding her so tightly as she basically screams bloody murder in the field.

All she can see is his face, her beautiful happy Stephen. The first time she ever saw him, standing under a street light in Boston, papers in his hand and wonder in his eyes. The way he looked up at her, the glow of the light making a halo glow over his head.

She should have known he was too good to be true. Always destined to return to the heavens, he was truly angelic with his big emerald eyes that were only the tiniest bit yellow on the edge of the pupil, the way her name sounded on his tongue like a blessing coming true.

They buried him 2 days after what was supposed to be their wedding. Disrupting another beautiful patch of earth to hide him away forever, she placed a single rose on his casket, she never said goodbye and she never planned to.

“See you later, superstar,” she patted the glossy black box once last time before sending him down into the earth.

—

September 2012

This fucking willow tree and 7-word sentences…

“What do you mean you have cancer?”

Her grandma let a tear slip from her eye, “I’ve got colon cancer, honey, the doctors said I have another 2 years, maybe 5 if I'm lucky.”

Every time someone sat beside her in this one spot, she learned the worst information in the world. Sure Evan didn’t mean to kill Stephen, doesn’t mean she’s talked to him at all in the last year. with Grandpa dying only a few summers back, her favourite house cat now buried in the yard, she can’t lose her grandma now too.

“Okay,” she starts to plan in her head, her eyes about ready to jump out of her skull as she tries to think of all the things they need to do before it’s too late, “let’s go to England, let’s blow my bank account, you can’t leave me without going to England with me? We were supposed to get tea and pretend to be the queen and princess?”

She couldn’t stop the tears, her whole body heaving as she sobbed into her grandma’s dress, “you can’t leave me too!”

“Your grandfather and I have a fund for you, you were the last baby we got to raise when your mom went back to work, I want you to use it for that baby we talked about,” her grandma’s voice is barely a whisper, softly getting the words over her vocal cords as the tears joined Y/N’s on her dress.

Without another word, she took her hand and walked home, getting in her car together and heading to the closest fertility clinic, she booked her first insemination for February, pre-paying for a round of IVF hormones and everything to start in January, she had 3 months to plan.

Finding the perfect donor was the only hard part. She had 3 different books to choose from with all the clinics in the DC area sharing 1 sperm bank. She finally made her decision 3 weeks before they were set to get her pregnant when they updated the books.

Sample 2319, male 30’s, healthy, high IQ, 6’1, brown eyes, brown hair (curly). “Sounds a lot like Stephen,” her grandma agreed, saying his name for the first time in over 2 years, she knew this was her guy.

—

June 14th, 2021

Peeing on a stick shouldn’t be as terrifying as it is.

She hasn’t been this nervous since the first time Dr. Collins inseminated her. Laying back on the table at a weird elevation to make sure she got pregnant, her whole body tense as she thought of the possibilities of her future child.

Sample 2319 sitting in a cup not too far from her face as she prepared for a man she barely knew to put the semen of another man she didn’t know, inside her. She only picked this guy cause he was smart and tall, no health issues to report and the number made her think of Monsters Inc.

In her mind, she made a baby with a man she named mike wazowski, not knowing his real name was actually Spencer Reid and he was only just down the road at Quantico the whole time. It was the weirdest day ever, and then it became the second-best day of her life

Nothing could top holding her baby in her arms for the first time. Her grandma and mother beside her as they all cried, the perfect purple baby screaming on her chest as they tried to wipe the white gunk off her tiny body. her sweet little coos, seeing her swollen eyes open for the first time, the silence that overcame her as they made their first introduction to each other. Her little person, the love of her life, her wonderful Amoreena.

Her cry was perfect, like music to her ears she wanted to hear her little voice as long as she could because it meant she was alive and real. She was healthy and beautiful and the most perfect bundle of joy she could have ever made.

Now she was hiding in the bathroom to pee on a stick while her 7-year-old had breakfast in the next room. Oh, how times changed, but one thing remained the same, she was finding out alone again. Only this time she meant for that to happen, it was exactly 4 days since her period was supposed to start and it wasn’t there, neither was Spencer.

He had something to do that morning, but he’d be meeting them later that afternoon, it was Amoreena’s last day of kindergarten after all. She wanted time to either enjoy the thought of having another baby or cry in peace because for once it didn’t work, giving her a week to recover before trying again.

Amoreena was a miracle, the easiest IVF baby they ever made at the clinic, apparently. If she was pregnant this easily again it was a sure sign that he was Amoreena’s father too, only he could get her knocked up while not even trying.

She didn’t remember pregnancy tests taking this long, she flipped it over and walked out of the room, unable to think of anything else while she waited for 3 minutes to pass. Amoreena noticed she was being weird, studying her mother's movements as she paced the hall outside of the bathroom door.

“What are you doing?” She asked, curious as ever as she twirled lightly in her new princess dress.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Always mom, I’m the best secret keeper in all the kingdom, remember?” Amoreena smiled, holding onto her leg as she stared up at her.

“Your dad and I tried to make a baby,” she whispered, petting the litter hairs on her forehead as Amoreena looked up at her, her first little baby. “I’m waiting to find out if it worked, but we can’t tell anyone in case it didn’t, okay?”

Amoreena’s eyes were wider than she’s ever seen them, her mouth opened slowly as she understood the words in her mind. She didn’t look happy or surprised, nor upset or worried. She looked confused, “how?”

She laughed then, shaking her head as she lifted Amoreena into her arms, she would have to know soon anyway. “You know how every month mummy has a bad week where she bleeds and her tummy hurts?”

“Yeah?”

“When people with our parts grow up they make little tiny eggs but we don’t lay them like chickens do, they stay inside our tummies and wait to become babies and if they don’t we have a period and release all the stuff our bodies saved up that month to make a little person. You’ll have one soon too in a few years, probably when you're 12 like I was, and when people with a penis get old enough they’re able to help us make the babies like roosters help the chickens. Our bodies are really special and make some really cool things when we try to,” she explained it in the most simple farmhouse way she could.

“Like when the goats are all born in the spring and they just show up?” She tried to clarify, understanding it at the basic level.

“Kinda, you’ve seen the photos of you in my tummy and how aunty Shannon’s stomach grew when she had your cousins, I’ll get really big like that too if I’m pregnant, the baby will grow for 9 long months till they’re nice and healthy and then we’ll have another person in the family,” she couldn’t help but smile as she thought about it.

“How do we find out?”

She opened the bathroom door then and carried Amoreena inside, setting her down on the sink and pointing at the upside-down test stick. “We create a special hormone when we’re pregnant, it’s something that can be detected in our pee!” she explained it like it was magic, watching her get excited instead of grossed out.

“So I peed on that stick and if it has 2 lines I have a baby in my tummy, if not then your dad and I have to try again.”

Amoreena picked up the test and looked at it, keeping it out of her mothers sight as she did so, “there’s two lines,” she lit up waving the stick lightly as she squealed.

Y/N wrapped her up in her arms and twirled her around, “you’re gonna be the best big sister ever!”

“How do we tell dad?” Amoreena’s soft voice whispered in her ear as she snuggled into her shoulder.

“I have an idea,” she whispered back before carrying her back into the kitchen.

Her All About Me project was sitting on the counter, ready for Y/N to drive her into school today. She set Amoreena down on the floor to watch her as she took some tape and taped the stick to the bottom corner of the project. “Pass me the marker, please?”

Amoreena ran to the counter to get it, coming back and placing it in her mom's hand before leaning in to watch what she was writing.

“I’m going to be a big sister sometime next February!” Amoreena read the words as her mother wrote them, unbelievably excited.

“Your dad can read that at the ceremony tonight!”

“I thought you said we can’t tell anyone yet?” Amoreena questioned her, like always.

“Your teacher can know, the other kids won't know what it means, it’s just important Spencer sees it, but we will wait to tell nanny and poppy, okay? Sometimes the babies don’t always stay, it’s sad so we keep it a secret until they’ve got a tiny little heartbeat in there,” she didn’t want to scare her, but she knew it was always a possibility.

“Then we try again,” Amoreena smiled, “It’ll be easier now that you don’t need Dr. Collins to help you, how did you even make me without Spencer?” She didn't use his real name often anymore, only in times when she wasn't referring to him as her father.

She sat down then, pulling Amoreena into her lap so she could hold her while she thought of the right words. “So we have eggs, but people with penises have something called sperm. When adults, and I mean adults you have to be at least 25 to have a baby it’s the rules,” she teased her slightly, ticking her arms.

“Adults have sex, babies are made when someone with a vagina and someone with a penis get together. But when you don’t have a partner with a penis to help, sometimes they’ll donate their sperm to the doctor's offices to help people like me make their perfect little families all by themselves.”

“Interesting,” is all her little mind can say, she has learned so much in one day, Y/N was surprised she was still listening and surprisingly still for once. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“We won't know for a while,” she smiled, holding Amoreena closer to her chest. “How do you feel about all this?”

Amoreena was quiet as she thought about it, “is Spencer the guy who gave the doctors the sperm for me?”

“We think so, but we don’t know, why?”

Amoreena looked at her softly, “it wouldn’t be fair, I know he said I don’t need a father but why do they get to have him for both?”

“I think Spencer is your father, you’re just as smart and wonderful as he is, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re his baby too. but if you want to know if he isn't, when you turn 18 the doctors will tell you who it is, it's completely up to you to find out,” she whispered, the tears starting to fall down her cheeks as Amoreena tried to wipe them away.

"I like thinking he's my father, so he is." Her mind worked in the most wonderful way. Y/N couldn’t help but hold her close as she lightly cried, “I had a dream yesterday that I had 8 sisters,” her voice was so soft and innocent as her tiny hand cupped her mother's cheek.

She gasped lightly at the words, remembering Spencer’s panic in the middle of the night last night, how scared he was to leave her all alone with 9 babies and no one to help her. They knew something that she didn’t yet, cheaper by the dozen seemed less like a dream and more like a prophecy.

“I’m so happy to make your dream come true,” Y/N whispered, “I promise I’m happy, the baby just makes me emotional.”

Amoreena placed her hand on her tummy then, “I love you, baby.”

Y/N stuck her tummy out as far as she could, “I love you too, big sister,” she said in a funny voice to make Amoreena laugh, leaning back in the chair as she held her.

And just like that, getting pregnant with Amoreena was bumped into 3rd place for the best day of her life. Sharing the moment with her and no one else was perfect, insuring she knew that she was just as important moving forward as the little person she was growing this time.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 let me know if you would like to be added as well!!

[crime-she-wrote]

What is Criminal Profiling and how Jack The Ripper‘s case contributed to it

Hello and welcome back to Crime, She Wrote! In this post we’ll talk about two things that fascinate me: criminal profiling and the first criminal profile ever recorded. So buckle up, get your favourite beverage and join me in this little trip around criminology!

What is criminal profiling?

Criminal profiling is something that probably most people have heard of thanks to the rising in popularity of crime TV shows, movies and books. It’s safe to say that if you’re reading this, you’ve heard of Criminal Minds, The Silence of the Lambs or Mindhunter. But among all the fiction, what’s the truth? What’s the reality that everything has been based of?

Offender profiling, or criminal profiling, is an investigative technique used by law enforcement agents and psychologists to assist in determining whether offenses were committed by the same perpetrator and to help narrowing down the list of possible suspects by using available information about the crime and crime scene to create a psychological portrait of the perpetrator. As of now, there are several typologies of criminal profiling, such as crime scene analysis, investigative psychology, geographic profiling, diagnostic evaluation and linkage analysis.

What do those words mean?

Crime scene analysis is probably what most people associate offender profiling with: the analysis of a crime scene and inference of the offender’s characteristics from it. Although this is the most popular method of offender profiling and the one used by the FBI, there’s no clear scientific evidence that crime scene actions and offender characteristics can be directly linked without the interfefence of a third factor.

Investigative psychology is a field of applied psychology that attempts to describe and understand the behaviour of the offender, their thought process and psychological characteristics. This is an investigative technique that strays from traditional criminal investigation.

Geographic profiling is, as the name says, the profiling of the area on which the offender commits their crimes. The goal of this investigative tool is to find patterns on the geographical areas in which crimes were committed, narrow down areas where the offender could strike next and find areas of personal significance for the offender. Despite what fictional media might make you believe, this doesn’t necessarily mean the geographic profile tells us where the offender lives (although that’s not impossible), but it tries to link criminal activity to other activities not related to the crimes (such as home or work place, or recreational areas frequently visited by the offender). Geographic profiling works on the principle that 1) crimes are likely to occur near the offender’s home, 2) the offender and the victim must intersect for the crime to occur, 3) the offender tends to divert attentions from their own home although not travelling further away than necessary and 4) crime sites are not random. Although very helpful, geographic profiling is only an accurate tool when investigators have more than three crimes than can be connected to the same offender with no doubt.

Linkage analysis is the process of determining whether several crimes were committed by the same offender. Idealy, this is determined by the presence of DNA, fingerprints or fabric in the crime scenes. But when neither of these are present, investigators must use other ways to determined the facts. One way of doing this is by behaviour linkage analysis where the investigators attempt to link crimes based on the behaviours of the offender. They try to find patterns of behavioral stability and behavioral distinctiveness, aka, the offender must behave a similar way when commiting the crimes and those behaviours must be different form those exhibited by other offenders committing the same crimes. This is also known as the offender’s modus operandi.

Diagnostic evaluation is the attempt to relate psychiatry and psychology knowledge to criminology, thus explaining crime and criminal behaviour via a mental health and psichiatric diagnostic vision.

What does Jack The Ripper have to do with this?

Between April 1888 and February 1891 there were a series of murders around the Whitechapel district of London. The victims were women, typically prostitutes, in impoverished areas, who had their throats cut and their abdomens mutilated, including the removal of the uterus and other organs in most cases. All crimes were committed during the night. Although a total of 11 murders were investigated as being the Ripper’s, only 5 were and are widely accepted as being committed by the Ripper. These are known as the canonical five and consist of Mary Ann Nichols, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddowes, and Mary Jane Kelly. The details of each murder are lengthy and well known so I won’t go over them much, but if you want to read more about them the wikipedia page on Jack the Ripper has it all available.

The investigation around the Whitechapel murders happened very much the same way modern investigations do: from interviewing of the community, to collecting of forensic material, and identification, investigation and even arrest of suspects. The investigation was conducted initially by Detective Inspectors Edmund Reid and Robert Anderson from the Metropolitan Police of Whitechapel Criminal Investigation Department, who later were joined by Detective Inspectors Frederick Abberline, Henry Moore, and Walter Andrews of the Scotland Yard.

It was in October 1888 that Robert Anderson asked police surgeon Thomas Bond his opinion regarding the murderer’s skill and anatomy knowledge. Bond’s response is the first criminal profile recorded in history.

Quoting Bond’s letter to Anderson,

 “1. All five murders were no doubt committed by the same hand. In the first four the throats appear to have been cut from left to right. In the last case owing to the extensive mutilation it is impossible to say in what direction the fatal cut was made, but arterial blood was found on the wall in splashes close to where the woman's head must have been lying.

2. All the circumstances surrounding the murders lead me to form the opinion that the women must have been lying down when murdered and in every case the throat was first cut.

3. In the four murders of which I have seen the notes only, I cannot form a very definite opinion as to the time that had elapsed between the murder and the discovering of the body.

4. In all the cases there appears to be no evidence of struggling and the attacks were probably so sudden and made in such a position that the women could neither resist nor cry out. In the Dorset Street case the corner of the sheet to the right of the woman's head was much cut and saturated with blood, indicating that the face may have been covered with the sheet at the time of the attack.

5. In the four first cases the murderer must have attacked from the right side of the victim. In the Dorset Street case, he must have attacked from in front or from the left, as there would be no room for him between the wall and the part of the bed on which the woman was lying. Again, the blood had flowed down on the right side of the woman and spurted on to the wall.

6. The murderer would not necessarily be splashed or deluged with blood, but his hands' and arms must have been covered and parts of his clothing must certainly have been smeared with blood.

7. The mutilations in each case excepting the Berner's Street one were all of the same character and shewed clearly that in all the murders, the object was mutilation.

8. In each case the mutilation was inflicted by a person who had no scientific nor anatomical knowledge. In my opinion he does not even possess the technical knowledge of a butcher or horse slaughterer or any person accustomed to cut up dead animals.

9. The instrument must have been a strong knife at least six inches long, very sharp, pointed at the top and about an inch in width. It may have been a clasp knife, a butcher's knife or a surgeon's knife. I think it was no doubt a straight knife.

10. The murderer must have been a man of physical strength and of great coolness and daring. There is no evidence that he had an accomplice. He must in my opinion be a man subject to periodical attacks of Homicidal and erotic mania. The character of the mutilations indicate that the man may be in a condition sexually, that may be called satyriasis. It is of course possible that the Homicidal impulse may have developed from a revengeful or brooding condition of the mind, or that Religious Mania may have been the original disease, but I do not think either hypothesis is likely. The murderer in external appearance is quite likely to be a quiet inoffensive looking man probably middleaged and neatly and respectably dressed. I think he must be in the habit of wearing a cloak or overcoat or he could hardly have escaped notice in the streets if the blood on his hands or clothes were visible.

11. Assuming the murderer to be such a person as I have just described he would probably be solitary and eccentric in his habits, also he is most likely to be a man without regular occupation, but with some small income or pension. He is possibly living among respectable persons who have some knowledge of his character and habits and who may have grounds for suspicion that he is not quite right in his mind at times. Such persons would probably be unwilling to communicate suspicions to the Police for fear of trouble or notoriety, whereas if there were a prospect of reward it might overcome their scruples.”

In summary, Bond mentioned the sexual nature of the murders and gives an analysis of the Ripper’s personality by analysing the available information and reconstucting the murders.

This analysis contains elements previously mentioned of offender profiling: we have the crime scene analysis, where Bond infers the position and behaviour of both victim and offender; investigative psychology, where he attempts to infer psychological traits to explain and understand the Ripper’s behaviour; linkage analysis where he uses the available information to determine whether the crimes were committed by the same offender or not; and diagnostic evaluation, where Bond attempts to explain the behaviour of the Ripper through various psychiatric diagnostics.

However...

Although offender profiling is indeed a scientific field within criminology and psychology, many theories are yet to be proven correct. Offender profiling depends on two things: behavioral consistency and homology. This means that for all typologies of offender profiling to be 100% accurate, an offender’s behaviour must be the same throughout different environments and occasions and throughout time (behaviour consistency) and similar crimes must always be committed by the same type of offenders (homology). Although this has been proved correct in the cases of sexual crimes, other types of crimes are yet to obtain the same results in research. This means that offender profiling is, indeed, useful and helpful to police investigations but it should be treated with caution as it cannot be used as a single one tool to solve a case or find a perpetrator.

Thank you!

If you read this far, thank you for sticking around! Likes and reblogs are highly appreciated, and if you like what you see please consider following! Let me know what kind of content, scientific research, cases or theories you’d like to see here by dropping suggestions on the ask box!

See you next post!

[lochtayboatsong]

The Jesus Christ Superstar essay absolutely no one asked for.

Last weekend, I watched the pro-shot of the 2012 arena tour of Jesus Christ Superstar starring Ben Forster, Tim Minchin, and Melanie C, because it was Easter and it was up on YT for the weekend.  I never managed to do my annual listen-through of Leonard Bernstein’s Mass this year, as is my usual Easter tradition, so I figured “Why not watch/listen to this instead?”  It was my first time seeing and hearing JCS in full, and Y’ALL, it has been living rent-free in my brain ever since.  I have a mighty need to get my thoughts out, so here they are, in chronological order by song.  

1) Prologue: I love the way JCS 2012 makes use of the arena video screen.  The production design and concept clearly took a lot of inspiration from the “Occupy ______” movement, which makes it feel a bit dated now.  But every single production of JCS is a product of its time period, so this is a feature and not a bug.  

2) Heaven On Their Minds: This is a straight-up rock song.  It wouldn’t be out of place on any rock and roll album released between 1970 and 2021, and it boggles my mind that Webber and Rice were both in their early twenties when they wrote it.  Also, the lyric “You’ve begun to matter more than the things you say” hits hard no matter the year.

3) What’s the Buzz: A+ use of the arena screens again, this time bringing in social media to set the tone.  Also, this song establishes right from the outset that Jesus is burnt out and T I R E D by this point in the story.  Seriously, can we just let this man have a nap?

4) Strange Thing Mystifying: Judas publicly calls out Mary and Jesus claps back.  Folx, get you a partner who will defend your honor the way Jesus defends MM in this scene.  Also Jesus loses his shoes and is mostly barefoot for the remainder of the show.

5) Everything’s Alright: Okay, this is one of the songs I have A LOT to say about.  First, it’s important to know that I was a church musician throughout all of my adolescence and into my early adulthood.  The pianist at the services I usually played at was a top-notch jazz pianist, and also my piano teacher for about six years while I as in high school and undergrad.  (Incidentally, I had a HUGE crush on his son, who was/is a jazz saxophonist and clarinetist and also played in the church band, but that’s a story for another day.)  One of the hymns we played a few times a year was called “Sing of the Lord’s Goodness,” which is notable for being in 5/4 time.  Whenever this hymn was on the schedule, it was usually the recessional, or the last song played as the clergy processed out and the congregation got ready to leave, so we were able to have some fun with it.  After a couple verses the piano player and his son would usually morph it into “Take Five,” a famous jazz standard by Dave Brubeck which is also in 5/4 time.  Anyway, the first time I listened to this song in full, it got to Judas’s line “People who are hungry, people who are starving,” and I sat bolt upright and went “HOLY SHIT THIS IS ‘SING OF THE LORD’S GOODNESS/TAKE FIVE.’”  And I was ricocheted back in time to being fourteen and trying to keep up with this father/son duo in a cavernous Catholic church while simultaneously making heart-eyes at the son.  Final note: This is the only song in the musical to feature all three leads (Jesus, Judas, and Mary Magdalene) and is mostly Jesus and MM being soft with each other in between bouts of Jesus and Judas snarling at one another.

6) This Jesus Must Die: I LOVE that all the villains in this production are in tailored suits.  LOVE IT.  Also, Caiaphas and Annas are a comedy duo akin to “the thin guy and the fat guy,” except in this case it’s “the low basso profundo and the high tenor.”  Excellent use of the arena video screen again, this time as CCTV.

7) Hosanna: My background as a church musician strikes back again.  It honestly took me two or three listens to catch it, but then I had another moment of sitting bolt upright and going “HOLY SHIT THIS IS A PSALM.”  Psalms sung in church usually take the form of call-and-response, with a cantor singing the verses and the congregation joining in for the chorus.  If I close my eyes during this song, I have no trouble imagining Jesus as a church cantor singing the verses and then bringing the congregation in for the “Ho-sanna, Hey-sanna” chorus. 

8) Simon Zealotes: This is part “Gloria In Excelsis” and part over-the-top Gospel song.  Honestly it’s not my favorite, but it marks an important mood change in the show.  The end of “Hosanna” is probably Jesus at his happiest in the entire show, and then Simon comes in and sours the mood by trying to tip the triumphant moment into a violent one.  Jesus is not truly happy again from this moment on.

9) Poor Jerusalem: Also not my fave.  It kinda reads like Webber and Rice realized that Jesus didn’t have a solo aria in Act I, so they came up with this.  But it has the distinction of containing the lyric, “To conquer death you only have to die,” which is the biggest overarching theme of the story.

10) Pilate’s Dream: Pontius Pilate might be the most underrated role in this entire show, and I love that this production has him singing this song while being dressed in judge’s robes.  

11) The Temple: The first half of this is one of the campiest numbers in Act I, at least in this production, and it’s awesome.  The second half is one of the saddest, as Jesus tries to heal the sick but finds there are too many of them.  Also the whole scene is almost entirely in 7/8 time, which I think is just cool.

12) I Don’t Know How To Love Him: Mary Magdalene’s big aria, and one of the songs I knew prior to seeing the full-length show.  This production has MM taking off her heavy lipstick and eye makeup onstage, mid-song, which is kind of cool.  Melanie C says in a BTS interview that MM’s makeup is her armor, so this is a Big Symbolic Moment.

13) Damned For All Time: The scene transition into this song is played entirely in pantomime, and I love it.  The solo guitarist gets to be onstage for a bit, A+ use of the video screen again to show Judas on CCTV, etc.  Love it.  And then this song is Judas frantically rationalizing what he’s doing, and what he’s about to do, with Caiphas and Annas just reacting with raised eyebrows and knowing looks.

14) Blood Money: This is where the tone of the show really takes a turn for the dark.  I think this might be one of Tim Minchin’s finest moments as Judas, because his facial expressions and microexpressions throughout this scene speak absolute volumes.  And the offstage chorus quietly singing “Well done Judas” as he picks up the money is a positively chilling way to end Act I.

15) The Last Supper: Act II begins with major “Drink With Me” vibes.  (Except JCS came WAY before Les Miz, so it’s probably more accurate to say that “Drink With Me” has major “The Last Supper” vibes.)  Jesus and Judas have their knock-down, drag-out fight, and it’s honestly heartbreaking, thanks again to Tim Minchin’s facial expressions.  A well-done production of JCS will really convey that Jesus and Judas were once closer than brothers, even though their relationship is at breaking point when Act I begins.

16) Gethsemane: This is Jesus’s major showpiece and one of my faves.  Jesus knows he has less than 24 hours to live, he knows he’s going to suffer, and worst of all, he doesn’t know whether it’s going to be worth it.  It’s an emotional rollercoaster to watch and to perform, and it goes on for ages: something like 6 or 7 minutes.  Fun fact: the famous G5 is not written in the score.  Ian Gillan, who played Jesus on the original concept album, just sang it that way, so most subsequent Jesuses have also done it that way.  Lindsay Ellis has a great supercut of this on YT.  John Legend notably sang the line as written during the 2018 concert.  

17) The Arrest: Judas’s Betrayer’s Kiss is played differently across different productions.  The 2012 version is pretty tame - I’ve seen clips and gifs of other productions, including the 2000 direct-to-video version, where they kiss fully on the mouth and have to be dragged apart by the guards and it is THE MOST TENDER THING.  Then the 7/8 riff from “The Temple” comes back and the 2012 version lets the video screen do its thing again as Jesus is swarmed by reporters.

18) Peter’s Denial: Not much to say about this one, as it’s basically a scene transition.  But it’s a significant moment in the Passion story, so I’m glad they included it.

19) Pilate and Christ: The 2012 production continues with the theme of Caiaphas, Annas, and Pilate all being bougie af, since Pilate intentionally looks like he just came from tennis practice during this scene.  Also he does pilates...hehehe.

20) King Herod’s Song: Tim Minchin says in a BTS interview that JCS works best when Jesus and Judas are played seriously and the rest of the production is allowed to be completely camp and wild and bizarre all around them, and he is bloody well CORRECT about that.  Case in point: King Herod.  There is not a single production of JCS that I know of where Herod is played “straight.”  He’s been played by everyone from Alice Cooper to Jack Black, and everyone puts a different zany spin on him.  In JCS 2012 he’s a chat show host in a red crushed velvet suit, who is clearly having the time of his LIFE. 

21) Could We Start Again Please: This is another of my faves.  Just a quiet moment where MM, Peter, and the disciples try to grapple with the fact that Jesus is arrested and things are going very, very badly.  This is also my favorite Melanie C moment of the 2012 show.  Her grief is very real, and the little moment she has with Peter at the end is very real.

22) Death of Judas: This is basically Tim Minchin screaming for about five minutes, and incredibly harrowing to watch on first viewing.  

23) Trial Before Pilate: Possibly my single favorite scene in the entire 2012 production.  This is another harrowing watch, but there’s so much to take in.  The “set” that the entire show takes place on is essentially just a massive staircase, and the people with power are almost always positioned above the people without power.  In this scene, the crowd shouting “Crucify Him!” is positioned above Pilate, which is a very telling clue to Pilate’s psychology during this scene.  Jesus is at the very bottom of the stairs, of course.  Excellent use of the video screen once again during the 39 Lashes, to show the lash marks building and building until the entire screen is a wash of red.  Pilate’s counting also gets more and more frantic, especially starting around “20.”  And all the while the guitar riff from “Heaven On Their Minds” is playing.  Jesus’s line “Everything is fixed and you can’t change it” is played quite differently in different productions - here it’s defiant, but elsewhere (in JCS 2000 for example) it’s almost tender, like Jesus is absolving Pilate for his part in the trial.  But it always ends the same - with Pilate almost screaming as he passes the sentence and “washes his hands” of the whole sorry business. 

24) Superstar: The most over-the-top number in the show.  Judas, who died two scenes ago, comes back to sing this.  There are soul singers.  There are girls in skimpy angel costumes.  The parkour guys from the prologue are back.  Judas pulls a tambourine out of hammerspace midway through the song.  And Jesus is silently screaming and crying as he gets hoisted onto a lighting beam while all this is going on.

25) The Crucifixion: More of a spoken-word piece than a song, it’s Jesus’s final words on the cross over eerie piano music, and another harrowing watch.

26) John 19:41: An instrumental piece in which Jesus is taken from the cross and carried, at last, to the top of the stairs, before being lowered out of sight as the video screen turns into a memorial wall and everything fades to black.

So.  I know I’m anywhere from three to fifty-one years late to this particular party, but I am on the JCS bandwagon now and I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.  :)

[threadofdestiny]

Magnolia (Bakugou x f!Reader)

Feudal Japan AU

Shogun!Bakugou x Midoriya’s sister!reader

Summery: Her mother, lady Midoriya Inko, had once told her that the gods had predestined a path for every single person. All she had to do was follow the path and trust that it would lead her to happiness. But how could (Y/N) find happiness in a political formed marriage with her brother’s rival, a man known for being brutal and cold hearted?

Warnings: sexual content in later chapters / period-typical-sexism / strong language / violence / Drama / Angst / Fluff / Slow Burn/ political marriage / Reader is Izuku's sister / period-typical-discriptions like vague mentions of longer hair to form typical hairstyles or specific wardrobe / Bakugou is not good at feelings / Bakugou is a mean, explosive boi / third-person perspektive

Wattpad 

AO3

If someone wants to be tagged, just let me know :)

Taglist: @bakugous-mamas​, @bnhastories​, @brittkimm​, @ ellieitstimetosleep

Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Turn of events

For a moment, (Y/N) watched her personal maid through the reflective surface of her mirror, while she tried to force herself to relax her tense shoulders. She hardly noticed how Mina gradually pinned a part of her hair into an elaborate hairstyle, to prepare her mistress for tonight's festivity. With glazed eyes, the young lady let her gaze slid downward to look at the oblong box on her dressing table. A silver hairpin adorned with dark green and rose-colored gemstones rested on the silk cushion of the oil-finished wooden box, sparkling promisingly in the flickering candlelight. The hue of the stones reminded her of the kimono she had worn during her performance at the imperial court. Even the floral pattern of the main piece resembled the flowering magnolia blossoms she had worn in her hair that day. The attention to detail was so shockingly accurate that it made (Y/N) shiver when she had first looked down at the piece of jewelry.

It had been the first time she had stood so obviously in public. Her introduction to society had lasted only a few moments, and yet her future husband had been able to notice so many specific details of her attire. The thought that Bakugou had been there, standing in the crowd as she strode towards the emperor, made the fine hairs on her upper arm stand on end. Goosebumps littered her soft skin, sending anxious shivers down her spine. How perceptive did a person have to be if such small details had stuck in his mind?

"Would you like to wear the hairpin tonight, Miss (Y/N)?", Mina asked curiously, after she stepped away from her mistress to follow her gaze towards the pretty jewelry. Caught off guard, the youngest Midoriya looked up, as she thought about how to answer the question her bright natured maid had phrased eagerly.

Was it too daring to wear that piece of jewelry right away? Or would Bakugou be offended if she didn't wear it tonight? Every decision she made could cause her to sink or rise in his esteem. The uncertainty stirred her eerily. It wasn't even clear if he would really attend today's festivity, and yet (Y/N) couldn't help but to anticipate that he would.

With fluttering eyelids, the youngest Midoriya took a deep breath before finally making a hesitant decision: "...Y-yes... However... do me a favor and lay out a warming kimono in the appropriate color scheme to go with it. The festivities will drag on until late after sunset and I don't want to catch a cold.", she answered nervously, before she lost herself again in her agitated thoughts.

Bakugou was like a parasite that had taken up residence in her mind and it was so incredibly frustrating that they had exchanged less than five sentences with each other until now. Every single gesture, every single word of his she had thought up to the smallest detail. Inwardly pleading that she would find some mannerisms in his behavior to fuel her hope that may had passed her mind beforehand. All she knew was that he was a stubborn and brooding man. Hardly a friendly word had he uttered in her presence until now. His posture seemed entirely dismissive and his vermilion eyes calculating and temperamental, while his reputation makes her tremble with fear at night when she was alone.

And yet, the youngest Midoriya caught herself wishing that she had a chance to learn more about her future husband. That he would also attend the festival tonight. Even if she would only be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of him. She wanted, no, she had to know what kind of person she would marry soon, in order to preserve her own salvation.

Despite the fact that (Y/N) hardly knew Bakugou, he was able to confuse her beyond measure. How did someone manage to appear so distant and brusque and yet be so attentive and prepossessing at the same time? Was she that blinded by the wish that there could be more behind their future union than duty to their country? That she had already caught his eyes before the emperor had ordered their engagement? Was it naive to hope that he concealed someone behind his cold-blooded facade she could learn to love someday? That he hid a man behind his cruel mask that was capable to love her as well? But what else could she have done if she wanted to hope for a better, love filled future?

Her destiny was already sealed. She did not have the power to change it. However, it would have done no good to condemn her future, even if her unpredictable fate instilled her with immense fear. (Y/N) didn't want to give up that easily. Even if the stars seemed to stand at a bad constellation, when it regards her future. All she could think about was her fiancé, hoping that she could have a chance for a good life by his side.

.

.

.

Even though (Y/N) had hoped to at least catch a single glimpse of Bakugou Katsuki, now that her wish had been granted, the young shogun felt even more unattainable. Like two identical magnetic poles pointing towards one another, they repelled each other, both shifting into groups that seemed reluctant to connect. It was not that he explicitly avoided her and her brother. It was just that the young shogun hadn't really moved from his spot at the edge of the celebration to even approach her or Izuku, since the emperor had officially proclaimed her brother as his heir at the beginning of the evening.

Since then, every noble had seized their chance to win Izuku over in some way or another. They had tried to get on her brothers good side, buttered him up now that it was clear that he would be taking the throne in the future. All except for Bakugou. The disinterest he showed made her feel insecure, even if she could guess that he was not a person who liked to occupy himself with groveling courtier's. It made her question her thoughts she had while she had prepared herself for the evening. That maybe he just wasn't interested in dealing with her and her family in general.

For hours, the young debutante had caught herself looking steadily for the blond man, asking herself what she was doing wrong or if he truly would want to get to know her. She had inwardly prayed that he would join them for a moment, but Bakugou remained grimly in one of the more secluded corners near the entrance that led deeper into the more private parts of the imperial gardens, while other nobles flocked around the newly announced heir of the imperial throne.

Together with his companion Kirishima, and surprisingly at times the easygoing noble, Kaminari Denki, he had spent his time with light conversations, while he drove away other approaching persons with gloomy looks. It was strange to observe the stoic man interacting with two such lively individuals, but apparently both noblemen felt comfortable enough to even laugh in the young shogun's presence. This picture which simply did not want to be reconciled with his bad reputation, surprised (Y/N) and made her wish all the more to find out more details about this man.

But of course, contrary to her wishes, the youngest Midoriya had to spent the entire evening obediently following her brother, like the well groomed lady she was. It would not be proper to run off without an escort, especially if she had to represent herself at her best, while Izuku was too busy filling the role of the guest of honor for the evening.

The head of her family had been strangely distant after the negotiations with Bakugou, which only fueled (Y/N)'s insecurity's all the more. While he normally didn't neglect his duties as her guardian, he seemed to be distracted by his own thoughts more often than usual. He was more inattentive than typically. In addition, all the noblemen seemed to distract him even more during the festivities. So much so that he didn't even notice how one of his former fellow pupils had repeatedly approached her in an unpleasant manner.

A few other lords from his years as novices, had engaged Izuku after some time in a deeper conversation as Mineta approaches grew bolder with each attempt. Spurred on by her brother's inattention, Lord Mineta had at some point begun to occasionally brush the fabric of her robe almost as if by accident. He did not seem to notice that his advances were unpleasant to the youngest Midoriya. No matter how much she tried to retreat discreetly, he followed her almost instantly.

Swallowing, (Y/N) dodged the obnoxious heavyset man's gaze as she felt a few stray fingers brush against her wrist. Seeking help, the young debutante looked to her brother, but she was crestfallen to find that he had turned away from her, not sensing his sisters distress. Even his interlocutors also appeared not to notice the man's intrusive gestures, while they were too busy reminiscing old adventures they had endured together.

"You are truly beautiful. I hope my parents are able to put in a good word for me. Maybe they can negotiate an union between us." Mineta spoke in a nasal tone of voice, while he again discreetly tried to step a little closer to her. Surprised, (Y/N)'s eyes widened when she heard the man's statement. Did he missed that the youngest Midoriya was already promised to another man? Or did he not fear the wrath of her fiance?

Wanting to correct the emerging misunderstanding, (Y/N) discreetly shook her head, before starting to speak in a soft manner:"... M-My Lord...M-My apologies... but-", (Y/N) began, struggling for words, as she unobtrusively tried to gain distance between the man and herself without drawing any inappropriate attention to them. She broke off her sentence when she felt several eyes resting on her figure, for fear that these received a false image of the situation. Her fingers clutched at the crystal glass of her refreshment as she continued to stubbornly gaze at the floor, thinking hardly how she should form an appropriate sentence without causing a scene. She felt left alone and helpless, but what was she supposed to do in such a situation without causing a commotion? She was a unmarried woman surrounded by powerful men who did not like to see a lady rebel.

What would her fiancé say if she misbehaved? Defending herself was out of the question in public. She couldn't just kick Mineta in the shins, even if she wanted to. Her behavior could damage her family's reputation.

Due to the fact that (Y/N) was looking for a way out, she did not notice how Mineta tried to approach her again: "You really do smell dreamy!", Mineta's unpleasant voice rang out against her ear as he leaned in to her once more. Wincing, she gasped in disgust, while she abruptly jerked back. Her fingers lost their grip on her drink for a tiny moment as she recoiled, causing the entire contents to spill onto her own garments. The clink of the glass falling on the ground beneath her feet finally made Izuku and his conversation partners turn towards her in confusion, but at that moment she wished she could have sank into the ground rather than be the center of attention. Embarrassed and close to tears the youngest Midoriya took another step back while looking at the damage on her kimono. All at once the pressure of the last few days became impossible to bear, while she looked down at herself, starting to tremble.

"(Y/N), are you alright?," she heard her brother's concerned voice rang out. Instead of being glad that he was finally paying attention to her again, his words seemed to her like the last straw that broke the camel's back, because, no, nothing was alright. But who cared that a young unmarried girl began to realize that the pressures of society weighed far heavier than she had expected, even after she had worked so hard on herself. No one had prepared her for the emotional chaos that would await her once she was introduced to society. Who would have thought that emotions and rational thinking could mess her up so badly? Moreover, she had grown up so stupidly sheltered that all of a sudden everything felt so incredibly overwhelming.

With trembling lips, (Y/N) briefly glanced once at Mineta before looking at her brother and finally shaking her head barely visible. At that moment, the situation just became too much for her. She was afraid that if she continued to stay in that place, she would burst into tears in front of their company. Taking a step back, she mustered up her courage to speak: "E-excuse me, please. I'll go clean my kimono!", she breathed with as much decorum as she could muster before instinctively turning on her heel all at once and ultimately disappearing briskly into the crowd. Had she not been so upset, she probably would have registered that she had run past an enraged Bakugou just a few feet from her point of origin, who was stomping furiously toward the small group. The youngest Midoriya was so agitated, however, that everything around her began to blur behind a veil of tears. Without thinking about the potential consequences, she fled as inconspicuously as possible to the more secluded area of the gardens to retreat behind the high hedges.

.

.

.

With a clean handkerchief, (Y/N) tried to pat the tears away from her wet cheeks after she had rubbed the stain from the expensive fabric of her attire. She was incredibly disappointed in herself. The whole situation had been so incredibly overwhelming, but she should have tried to keep calm and yet she had not been able to stand it any longer. Now she was alone, sitting on the stone facade of an ornate fountain in a secluded part of the imperial gardens, completely frustrated with her own behavior. The tall hedges that surrounded her, swallowed most of the sounds coming from the celebration. Trying to let the soft splashing of the small fountain calm her senses somewhat, she breathed in the fresh evening air, while the small lights on the surface of the water provided enough light to keep her from sitting there completely in darkness. Sinking into self-pity, the young girl sobbed out once again.

Suddenly a crack which seemed to come from a breaking twig disturbed the silence behind her. Startled, (Y/N) wheeled around, shocked to realize how much darker this place was compared to the festival area illuminated by the lanterns. Nonetheless, she recognized how a man unknown to her slowly stepped into the clearing. An uncomfortable shiver ran down her spine as she rose from her seated position, pressing her handkerchief against her quivering chest.

"Ah, honored Miss Midoriya, what a delightful coincidence to have found you! Your brother is already beside himself with worry!", he greeted her in an emphatically friendly manner as he moved ever so slightly closer towards her. In the shadows of the clearing, his features were a little harder to make out. For a moment she might have thought the man could have been Izuku himself based on his hairstyle, but his face was one she had never seen before. Dark eyes, which were framed by equally dark hair, looked at her insistently, as the man slowly but steadily approached her.

"Excuse me, but I don't remember us being introduced, My Lord.", breathed the youngest Midoriya. Protectively, (Y/N) pressed her bent forearms against her throbbing chest as she thought in alarm about how to escape this situation as quickly as possible. Despite his friendly posture, the man frightened her. The thought that she, an unmarried, betrothed lady, could be discovered alone with another man in a place like this caused panic to spread through her body. She could be accused of immorality if she was found here. That could clearly damage her brother's reputation, as the new heir to the throne. Not to mention, she was troubled by the thought of how Bakugou would react when he heard of this situation. Would he direct his anger at her entire family when he learned of this matter?

"Ahh, forgive me. My name is Shindo Yo. I am a good acquaintance of your brother!", he replied while he indicated a friendly bow. His smile spread across his face as he tilted his head to the side to keep her in view. He was an acquaintance of Izuku? Then why had she never heard of his name before? Normally, her brother was someone who was very talkative when it came to describing people he had already had the pleasure of meeting.

Swallowing, (Y/N) nodded cautiously before trying to discreetly circle the young man, without getting closer to him. "I see... T-Thank you for pointing out that he was looking for me then. I should return to him as soon as possible, my lord!", she breathed affirmatively, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible. Before the young Midoriya could scurry past him, however, calloused fingers had closed around her wrist all at once. Gasping, the young debutante jerked her head around to look up at the man in panic. Without (Y/N) being able to react in time, Shindo pulled her towards him with a jerk, so that the impact against his muscular body caused a brief dizziness in her head.

"Ahh, I'm sorry, young miss. But I'm afraid I won't be able to let you go just like that. I mean... how surprising it would be to find an unmarried girl alone in the arms of a man in the back of the imperial gardens. How... unheard of! And that too from the future princess. Who would have thought that? I wonder what your fiancé will say when he hears about this? It is said that he and the crown prince are not necessarily favorably disposed towards each other! I wonder what could trigger such a situation between them?"

"No! Let me go, please!"

Sheer panic caused (Y/N)'s body to release a huge amount of adrenaline all at once. Immediately, it awakened the flight reflex in the young debutante, so she desperately began to fight back against the stronger man, punching him with her free hand while trying to tear her other arm away from him. Cursing, Shindo tried to grab her wildly flailing arms, but before he could do so, the youngest Midoriya instinctively grabbed the hairpin her fiancé had given her two days ago. Without paying attention to her hairstyle, she tore the piece of jewelry out of her hair, only to ram the two long pointed teeth of silver metal into her attacker's shoulder. With a cry of pain, Shindo disengaged from her as he staggered back disoriented. Dark blood dripped from her improvised weapon as she held it protectively in front of her. Gasping, (Y/N) tried to widen the distance she had gained between them by backing a few steps away from him, but in doing so she had failed to notice the bump in the turf, which is why, she tripped over her own hem and fell to the ground with a frightened cry.

Full of terror, she realized that Shindo now had the chance to grab her again, but that moment was never to come.

It was only a few seconds later that (Y/N) had registered that Bakugou Katsuki himself had rushed past her to ragefully give her adversary a right hook. The blow seemed to hit Shindo so hard that he almost instantly fell to the ground unconscious.

"Miss Midoriya, are you hurt?", a warm, masculine voice rang out beside her, causing her to instantly startle in panic. Instinctively, she raised her bloodied hairpin in front of her body to defend herself if necessary. However, when she recognized the face of the red-haired companion of the Shogun, (Y/N) immediately relaxed. Instantly, the young debutante shook her head and tremblingly grasped Kirishima's hand, which he had extended to her in offering to help her up. Her body shook like leafs in the wind barely able to keep her to stand upright, but nevertheless, she immediately turned around to look for the person who had come to her rescue. Bakugou bent with clenched fists down towards the man lying on the ground to strike him again, but (Y/N)'s pleading voice made him pause for a moment.

"B-Bakugou-sama!", the young Miss Midoriya gasped in panic as she broke away from his red-haired companion as quickly as possible. Immediately, the blond man spun around, breathing heavily as he returned the frightened girl's gaze. Analyzing, he looked at the stage in which his fiancée was. Her hair had been partially torn out of her hairstyle, while bloodstains adorned the white fur that her maid had previously draped around her shoulders to protect her from the evening chill. Bakugou's whole body radiated a tremendous anger when he saw how frightened she seemed, but as he watched her approach him faithfully, his muscles relaxed instantly. At that moment she forgot all the terrible rumors about her future husband, glad that he had come to her rescue. Seeking safety, the youngest Midoriya extended her fingers to reach into the Shogun's kimono sleeve as her gaze swung timidly to the unconscious Shindo.

"I defended myself. I-I didn't know any other way to help myself. I am sorry.", she whispered in a shaky voice. Bakugou allowed the young girl to claw at his arm. With deep breaths, he studied her expression searchingly. After a moment he shook his head in a dismissive manner before answering her statement:"You did the right thing.", he grumbled, before looking back down at Shindo. Immediately, (Y/N) followed his gaze while she tried to suppress an upcoming shiver that ran down her spine. "Is... he dead?", she asked frightened, when she saw that the man on the ground was not moving at all. It was too dark to make out any injuries, but she knew that he must be bleeding profusely from his shoulder. Snorting, Bakugou shook his head, while his shoulders stiffened again a little. "Not yet!", he growled as he made moves to approach Shindo again. His free hand reached out to grasp the handle of his katana, but (Y/N)'s fingers dug deeper into the fabric of his sleeve as she stepped closer towards her fiance.

"Your Grace. We should get out of here before someone discovers us. Your reputation could ge-" "What do I care about my reputation?", interrupted Bakugou angrily as he spun back around to face her. Overwhelmed, the young girl looked up at him as she searched for a new approach. Shindo had attacked her. He deserved to be punished, but (Y/N) did not want to witness him losing his head because of that. Tears still glistened in the girl's eyes, but no more flowed down her cheeks as she finally began again:"I-I can't be seen here either. That would also damage Izuku's and my reputation!", (Y/N) pressed out uncertainly.

Immediately, realization spread across the blond man's features before he began to curse in annoyance. "Then what are you waiting for? Get the hell moving out of here!", he blustered angrily as he began to push her out of the clearing. "Dunce Face, go find Deku and discreetly explain to him what had happened. I'll take his sister away in the meantime!", he ordered Kaminari, who surprisingly stood a few feet behind Kirishima, nodding dutifully. As he left the clearing, he threw (Y/N) an encouraging smile as he passed her, but he did not hesitate further to carry out his order. "Kirishima! I want you to take care of him! Find out what exactly was going on here!", the Shogun growled in the direction of his other companion, while he gestured towards Shindo with a nod of his head. A serious expression spread across Kirishima's face before he nodded obediently as well.

With her head bowed in shame, the youngest Midoriya left the dark clearing accompanied by the blond shogun, but instead of heading back in the direction of the festival, he led her in the opposite direction. "Going into a secluded part of the garden alone by yourself was reckless, girl! You should be glad that Kirishima had seen you disappear in here! Something more terrible could have happened to you otherwise!", dispraised Bakugou as he dragged her along behind him. Stumbling, (Y/N) moved in the direction she was being pulled, while trying to sort out her appearance as best she could.

"I know!", (Y/N) replied dejectedly.

"That rotten bastard deliberately followed you! You shouldn't have moved away from your good for nothing brother under any circumstances. As a fucking Midoriya, you have a huge target on your back, you hear me? Your brother is going to be the next damn emperor! So you have to be more careful, brat!", added Bakugou angrily as they scurried past the tall rose hedges.

"I... I know.", the youngest Midoriya whispered again. His choice of words hurt the young girl, but she tried not to burst into tears again.

"If you wouldn't have just put up with everything beforehand and just directly told that damn pervert at the party to keep his fucking mitts off of you, it wouldn't have had to come to this in the first place!", the young shogun continued to chide her darkly, giving all of his frustration an outlet. However, the young Midoriya was also still running partly on the increased adrenaline release, which is why she finally looked up to give Bakugou with a pained expression on her damp face. Had she not been so upset, it certainly would have surprised her that he had even noticed the situation at the party. After all, he hadn't seemed like he wanted to give her any attention in the first place. But at that moment, all she could feel was how all of her frustration wanted to burst out of her.

"Yes, I know!", she replied in a sharp voice before taking a deep breath. "I know it now, that going into that part of the garden was incredibly reckless, and I regret it too. But please. Please, don't judge me for trying to ignore Lord Mineta's advances. It was not my place to covet. Causing a commotion in public would have only caused more problems. I didn't want to disgrace you and my brother. Believe me, if it had been up to me, I would have loved to fight back.", (Y/N) blurted out before she could catch herself. Trembling, she pressed her hairpin to her chest, no longer thinking about the fact that the blood sticking to it could stain her clothes even more.

Abruptly, Bakugou spun around after he registered the young debutante's words to glower down at her, snorting with rage. Jaw tightened, he gritted his teeth as he bent down dangerously slow over her smaller frame. "Listen, girl! I will not allow my future wife to be molested by anyone. I order you to fight back, damn you! Do you understand?", growled Bakugou firmly, while his hand tightened around her trembling wrist. Despite the pressure, however, he seemed careful not to hurt her unnecessarily, but this was the least thing that occupied (Y/N)'s mind at the moment.

Shaking her head disbelievingly, she tried to form words of refutation: "But... Y-Your Grace-", the youngest Midoriya began to stutter, eyes widening in shock as she gazed speechlessly into her fiancé's vermilion eyes, unable to form a decent sentence. "I don't expect you to directly ram your jewelry into everyone's shoulder, but use your fucking voice and put people in their place. That perverted little rat wouldn't have dared to approach you if you told him that you were my fucking fiance!", hissed Bakugou angrily as he unconsciously pulled her closer to him.

Silence spread between the mismatched couple after Bakugou's last words. For a brief moment, they looked at each other in silence with rapidly moving chests, until all at once an appreciative grin settled on the mans full lips. This expression literally took the remaining wind out of (Y/N's) sails. How could he seem so amused all of a sudden when he had been furious not even a moment ago?

Before (Y/N) could ask where his change of heart came from, the Shogun once again interrupted the silence between them:"While I had not given you the hairpin with that intention, I cannot deny that I was impressed that you had used it to your advantage.", the young shogun remarked with an amused look as he pointed to her improvised weapon. Speechless, the debutante looked down before an uncomfortable heat shot up her cheeks. Forgetting that he had chided  her just a few seconds ago, (Y/N) lifted her shoulders in shame. "I am sorry!", whispered the young girl, but Bakugou only shook his head, before he indicated to follow him again.

"Don't be. Now Come. I'll take you home.", the shogun ordered a bit softer than before. Clenching her jaw, (Y/N) nodded surrenderingly before walking briskly after her stoic fiance.  

[lunarmessenger]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write some angst with happy ending one-shot about MC having baby with Saeyoung but he doesn’t know about her, because he pushed away MC after their “first time” in Rika’s apartment and told her that he don’t want to involve her into his live so when she finds out about her pregnancy she run away from Korea. 4 years later she’s coming back and Seven accidentally finds out about his little daughter.

I see that I have now become the one for ANGST and i love it  - luna xx

warnings: none?? at least i don’t think

word count: 3.9k

Empty.

That was the first thing she noticed as her eyes slowly opened. She was groggy, her arms spreading out as she stretched across the queen sized bed. Her arm swept over to her left, cold and empty sheets returning her warm touch as she blinked for a moment. She noticed that the sheets felt a little too close to her body, brows furrowing as she slowly lifted the sheets and looked down. She was met with the site of her naked body, a blush washing across her face and neck as she hurriedly placed the sheets back down. She sat up, her lower back a little sore as she hissed and leaned against the many pillows surrounding her.

What had happened?

Her hair fell around her face, hands reaching up and pulling it back as she looked around. Her eyes caught onto her pajamas that were strewn about the floor, along with her underwear. Again she blushed, eyes still scanning the room until they fell on the familiar hoodie that lie crumpled on the floor beside her messy clothing. That’s when the memories hit her. His warm and soft touch across her body, the way his lips nipped and sucked at the most sensitive parts of her. His breathless moans, her soft whines as they intertwined together. It was passionate, it was sweet; she remembered what he said to her as they finished together.

I love you.

A small smile came to her face as she scooted away from the wall and towards the edge of the bed, using the sheets to cover her naked body. Her legs twitched as her toes touched the cold floor, going to stand until they shook and she lost her balance. She fell to the floor with a small thud, huffing in frustration and embarrassment as she tried to hoist herself up. The noise caught his attention, her eyes looking to the door as he ran into the room.

“Oh! Y/N, are you okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer; he made his way over and helped her up, the feel of his hands pressed against the small of her back and her shoulders enough to make her blush as she spoke up.

“Yeah...just a little sore.” She avoided his gaze, but she could see the small smile on his face as he placed her on the bed and walked toward his jacket. She gave a breathy sigh and then cleared her throat, watching him place his jacket back on and adjust his jeans.

“So, um...” She wanted to talk about what happened last night, but she didn’t know how to. What was she supposed to say anyway? I mean it was good; obviously it was very good. But what now? They admitted their feelings to each other...so did that mean that they would be together? Like she always hoped they would?

“We don’t, uh, have to talk about it.” He cut her off, sending her another small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His voice was calm, reassuring. But she could see in his eyes that there was a sadness in them, despite the fact that they had shared such a beautiful night together.

“I want to talk about it though. Last night was amazing, I—” She hesitated, seeing how he quickly went back to the door and put his sneakers on. “Seven...?” He stopped, his sneakers still untied as he looked at her. His golden eyes became even sadder, her heart growing heavy as he faced the door.

“Look, Y/N. My life is...complicated. I don’t want to involve you.” Her brows furrowed as he kept his back facing her, his hands clenched into fists as he took a deep breath.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying...forget about last night. It’s better that way.” She felt like she’d taken a punch to the stomach, a lump forming in her throat as her heart completely sank. Forget? How was she supposed to forget something like that? Something that felt so real, so right?

“What if I don’t want to forget?” She’d meant for her voice to come out stronger, more sure of herself. Instead she sounded small, and shy, her fingers clutching the sheets for dear life as she looked down. Tears were already threatening to spill over, her bottom lip quivering as she shook her head.

“You want me to forget all of that? Forget the kisses we shared, the way I felt...you told me, Seven; you said to me—”

“It meant nothing.” A small gasp escaped her lips as she looked up at him, his head now turned towards her direction. His look was cold, empty as he repeated the words that stabbed her in the chest.

“It meant. Nothing.” She slowly sank back into the bed, turning so that her back was facing him, shock completely taking over her body. The tears were flowing freely now, wetting the pillow as she held it in. She could sense he was still there; he’d already seen a vulnerable side to her; he was not going to see her cry.

“Once I figure out the location of the hacker I’ll work with Jumin to get it taken care of. Once you’re safe; we don’t have to interact again unless it relates to the party.” His footsteps indicated he was leaving the room, and it was confirmed as she heard the door shut behind her. With that she let out a quiet, but painful sob, eyes clenched shut as she lie on the side of the bed that he’d left this morning.

Alone.

+

It had been a couple of days since 707 and Jumin figured out where the hacker was stationed; found out about Mint Eye. They had the authorities swarming the building in minutes, and it seemed that now, the RFA was safe. During their hunt, 707 was confronted by his brother; one that he thought he had lost years ago. She could see the change in him; how he was angry and saddened by all the lies that V had told him. He was hurt by his betrayal, and she was still hurt from his sharp and piercing words; the last words that the two of them had spoken to each other.

A couple of weeks had passed since then, and today was the last day that they were going to be living in the same apartment. Though they lived together they stayed in separate rooms; she couldn’t stand to see him, and he was okay with that. More than okay; he knew that he had hurt her beyond repair, and he figured it was better this way. Especially now that everything came out with his brother; the hacker. He was distracted, typing away at his computer to see if he could find a trace of him, anywhere in Korea. She took that chance to slip out of the apartment, wallet in hand as she hurriedly rushed to the nearest market.

Though it’d been a couple of weeks and the tension was high, something else had her worried. She walked straight to the section that she knew it would be in, grabbing the most accurate one off the shelf and fast walking to the self checkout station. She had the box in her bag and carefully walked into the apartment complex, jumping when she saw that he was waiting for her.

“Where did you go?” His brows were furrowed, noticing that she was acting differently than usual. She was playing with her fingers and avoiding his gaze, leading her throat as she responded.

“I just wanted to go for a short walk. Not like you care anyway.” She pushed past him as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again. It stung, badly but he couldn’t blame her at all. After what he said to her...she had every right to snap at him and avoid him. He sat back down at his laptop, hesitating slightly as he looked back towards her room. His heart ached; he wanted to go to her, tell her that he didn’t regret that night, that it meant everything to him. But the damage was done, and so he cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders, typing away to find his brother.

Meanwhile she was in the restroom, pacing back and forth in front of the sink as the little white stick took its time to process and think. She was pleading, hands clasped together in front of her mouth as she continued to pace. The timer on her phone went off and she dove for the stick, bringing it up to her eyes and reading the results. She sank down to her knees in shock, the two lines reading loud and clear on the positive test as her hands started to shake. She missed her period, but she thought it was related to all of the stress from dealing with the hacker. She never thought...

With shaking hands she hurriedly pulled up the RFA app, fingers miss typing so much that she almost laughed. Tears were falling down her face as she sniffed, the phone picking up on the 2nd ring.

“Hello?”

“Jaehee; please. Help me.”

+

She waited until Seven had gone back to his place, the apartment empty of all the things that had belonged to him. Her own items were packed away in a suitcase, coat and scarf wrapped around her as she waited for Jaehee and Jumin. Her stare was blank as she focused on the wall in front of her, heart aching at the decision she had made. Did she want to go through this pregnancy alone? Of course not. But she couldn’t tell her family; at least, not yet. Not when she was only in her first term. She felt nauseated at the idea of telling him; telling him that he was going to be a father. She wanted to; he had every right to know that what they did that night; they were going to have a child.

But after everything came out with his brother? She couldn’t.

There was already so much on his plate, and she knew that if she added her pregnancy onto that he would completely shut down. After talking with Jaehee, who brought it up to Jumin she had decided; she couldn’t stay here in Korea. Knowing that he was so close to her, that any moment they could cross paths and he could see her growing stomach; her body that held their child. The thought of it made her sick; she just couldn’t do it. She’d thought about abortion, thinking that maybe that would be best. But she couldn’t help fantasizing about what their child would look like; would they have his hair? His eyes? His strange, but warm personality?

Those thoughts are what made her decide that abortion wasn’t the answer either; she would rather raise this child alone, than try to reason with Seven who had already made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her. There was a soft knock on the door, and then it was pushed open, Jaehee and Jumin standing on the other side of it as her eyes slowly peeled away from the wall and looked in their direction. Held in her hands were plane tickets to Europe, Jumin being the first one to walk over to her. He knelt down in front of her, gray eyes strong but warm as he gently took her hands.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I have resources, Y/N, you don’t have to do this alone.” She looked into his eyes, knowing that he meant every single word he said as he patiently waited for her answer.

“I’m sure. You’ve done enough; I just want to disappear. I’ll send you both pictures I just...please. I don’t want the rest of them to know, and I especially don’t want him to know. It would kill him.” Jumin nodded and helped her stand up, taking her suitcase in his hand while Jaehee stepped forward and linked arms with her.

“You’ll always be a part of the RFA Y/N. Never forget that. We will welcome you back with open arms, should you decide that is what you want.” Her heart grew heavy once more as she leaned against Jaehee for support, the tears flowing as she walked out of the apartment, and didn’t look back.

+

Four years. It had been for years since he’d seen, or heard anything form her. He’d managed to find his brother; slowly make amends. It was hard, but he did it, and they were together again just like old times. But his heart was still empty, still missing as his mind occasionally went back to those moments with her. Moments where they joked in the chatroom, picking on Yoosung. When they’d share dinner together in Rika’s old apartment.

That night when they’d made love.

He refused to call it anything else; because that’s what it was. They’d poured their souls into each other, sharing pieces that nobody else would ever get the chance to see. He’d stupidly tossed it away, and now she was gone. Again he couldn’t be mad at her, couldn’t be upset; if anything, he hated himself. He hated how he was so focused on pushing others away, that he missed out on the most important thing in his life.

Her.

All these years that she was gone they could have grown together; maybe even started a family. Thoughts like that always depressed him, and he tried his best not to think about it. But it was so hard; he looked for her, everywhere and it was like she had never existed. He couldn’t find anything; and part of him knew that she didn’t do that alone. Jumin and Jaehee rarely talked about her, and when he asked them where she went he was met with vague answers; sometimes no response at all.

The thought of their secrets made his anger bubble up all over again; and he decided it was best to go for a drive. He grabbed his jacket and threw it on, soon heading out into town with one of his sports cars. He parked in a random spot and decided to just walk, not caring where he was going. Now that he’d found his brother he felt...lost. Like there was nothing else to search for. Obviously Y/N didn’t want to be found, so he respected that.

He bit his lip as he thought, throwing his hood up in frustration. He then stopped as he noticed a lone child, crying in front of one of the buildings. Her hair was long enough to catch his attention, yet everybody else seemed distracted, their own errands preoccupying their minds as they left the poor child to cry by herself. He hurriedly walked up, her wails piercing his heart with a strange but almost familiar feeling as he knelt down beside her.

“Hey, hey...are you okay?” She wiped at her eyes as she looked up at him, and immediately he felt his stomach drop. Her eyes were extremely similar, if not identical to his own when he was a child.

“I can’t find my mommy...” She sniffled, her cries building up again as she started to panic. Her Korean was good but she had a small accent; clearly she was not form here, nor raised here.

“That’s okay; I’ll stay beside you and we can wait here for your mommy. Do you remember where you last saw her?” 

“Darling!” His head popped up as she saw a woman a few feet away, searching frantically as she panicked. She had shopping bags on her arms, the bags swinging around as she desperately tried to find her child. She fully turned around towards them, her eyes growing wide as she immediately ran for the two of them. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest as she grew closer; it was her.

“Baby, oh darling what did I tell you? You cannot leave mommy’s side! Ever!”

“I’m sorry...” She hugged her, the relief prominent on her face as she kissed the top of her head. “This man helped me mommy.” The little girl clutched the bottom of her mother’s coat, pointing to Seven as he slowly stood form his kneeling position. The mother stared back at him, almost dropping her bags as she quickly but gently pulled her daughter behind her.

“Y/N...” She swallowed, though that didn’t make the lump in her throat any smaller as she looked down.

“Seven—”

“Saeyoung.” He interrupted her, her eyes looking up towards him as he continued to stare at the child next to her.

“My real name is Saeyoung. I...is she...?” His hands were shaking as he pointed towards the child who peeked from behind her mother, eyes wide with curiosity as she watched the two adults talk. She hesitated; she didn’t want to tell him, at least, not this way, but she knew better than to lie to him. She gave a small nod, slowly bringing the child to the front of her as he knelt down again.

“Hi...” His voice was soft, holding his hand out to her as she hesitantly placed her small one inside his palm.

“What’s your name? What’s her name?” His eyes switched between the little girl’s and Y/N, a hand pressed against her chest as she tried to hold back tears.

“Angel.” It came out as a whisper, Saeyoung nodding as he cleared his throat to fight back the tears.

“It’s nice to meet you, Angel.” He tried to wipe away the tears that had formed and were threatening to spill, and in the process knocked his hood back. It revealed his bright red hair, and it was then that the little girl’s eyes brightened, her small hands pressing against his face as she cried out.

“Daddy!” Her high-pitched cry is what made the tears completely fall, a choked sob escaping his lips as she leapt into his arms. He looked up in surprise, lifting her up and carrying her on his hip; it was as natural to him as breathing.

“That night we didn’t use...this whole time were you—”

“I’d rather not explain this on the street; I was actually planning to come to your apartment. Maybe cook dinner?” Without hesitation he nodded as he noticed groceries inside the shopping bags, leading them to his car all while trying to keep his emotions under control.

+

“So...how long has she known about me?” Saeyoung watched her from the kitchen, his brother carrying her on his back and running around the living room as she squealed in delight.

“Since she found a picture of you in my dresser a few months ago. She wanted to get to know you and meet you, and I figured that she should have the chance to know who her father is.” She stirred the vegetables absentmindedly, the rice cooker going off just as she turned the heat off.

“You kept pictures of me?” He swallowed, biting his lip as she looked away. He pretended not to notice the flush in her cheeks as she nodded.

“Yeah, I missed you I just couldn’t forget that you existed.” She took a deep breath, placing the vegetables on a large serving platter and bringing ti to the table. Saeyoung was in shock; it’d been so long since he’d seen Y/N; and now she had a daughter. Well, they both had a daughter now. She looked so motherly; the way she wiped her hands on her apron and called for Angel.

“Dinner is ready! Come and eat you two.” She set the plates, and while Saeyoung offered to help she declined. He could tell it wasn’t out of spite; she just genuinely had become so independent. He felt a heavy sense of guilt; if he hadn’t pushed her away that night; what if he’d allowed her to get to know him? Every part of his past; who he was and who he wanted to be. His selfishness and stubbornness caused him to lose four years on a family that he’d had; and he would never forgive himself for that.

He watched fondly as Angel bounded in from the living room, her bubbly personality warming his heart as she sat next to him and eagerly waited to be served. Though dinner was nice there was a lot that needed to be said still, and he knew that as he caught Y/N looking at him often as she switched between feeding herself, and helping Angel eat her food.

Soon it was late, and Angel was fast asleep in the lap of Saeyoung’s brother, the man resting his head on his hand as he leaned his elbow against the arm of the couch. Saeyoung was helping with the dishes, the two of them standing in silence as they switched between handing off plates and placing them on the drying rack.

“I didn’t mean waht I said.” She furrowed her brows, tilting her head as she looked in his direction. He was looking out the window in front of the sink at the stars before turning his attention to her, eyes intense as she shook her head in confusion.

“What?”

“That morning; after we’d had sex. I didn’t mean what I said. That night meant everything to me. I just...with the RFA being in danger, and Mint Eye threatening to take you and my brother I—”

“Saeyoung you don’t have to explain it. I knew that you loved me; I figured it out after I’d been in Europe for the first month of my pregnancy. I just...I couldn’t find the strength to come back and tell you about her. The longer I sat on it the more I tried to push it off. She was my strength. Angel was the courage and the push I needed to come back and see you.”

She hadn’t noticed but a couple of tears threatened to spill, her gaze switching from the dishes to him as she gave a weak sigh.

“I’ve just missed you so much.” Saeyoung dropped the dishes, dipping down and capturing her lips in a kiss. She was surprised, wide eyed as he kissed her hard. She too let the dishes fall back into the soapy water, wet hands grabbing his shirt as she kissed him right back. He pulled away first, golden eyes melting her just as they did four years ago as he spoke.

“I am never letting you run away from me again. Do you hear me?” She nodded, kissing him first as he reciprocated and lifted her up on the counter top.

“Saeyoung! Angel, Saeran; they’r right—mm!” He interrupted her again, tongue pushing past her lips as he deepened the kiss even more. She let out a soft squeak, giving in to the desire as she ran her now dry hands through his hair. She pulled away for air as he moved down to her neck, pressing light and soft kisses down them as she gave a pleasured sigh.

“Stay,” He pressed another kiss on her collar bone as he whispered, coming back up to make eye contact with her. “Stay with me.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, hands holding tightly to her waist; he felt that if he wasn’t holding on tight enough, she might just disappear all over again. She gave a deep breath, opening her eyes as she brought a hand up to his cheek. Her thumb ran across it, her touch soft as she decided.

“Okay.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3

- Chapter 4 -

Nie Mingjue attended his first discussion conference as a ward of the Wen sect rather than a son of the Nie sect and found it more or less the same misery as it had always been, except with the extra twist of everyone looking at him with pity in their eyes.

The Jiang sect averted their eyes the way they always did. For all his talk about attempting the impossible, the only impossible thing Jiang Fengmian had ever dreamt of was a peaceful life, and his wife was strong in power but bitter and vicious in spirit, parceling out her love and sympathy in small dollops as if she thought she would run out if she gave too much of it away. That being said, their indifference and purely superficial show of sympathy was still better than the steely eyes of the Jin sect, which looked right at him with nothing but empty calculation, as if weighing him to see what use they could get out of him.

Lan Qiren, at least, looked genuinely upset to see him standing there in Wen colors, a frown creasing his brow with distress. Nie Mingjue wondered cynically if the Lan sect would have preferred that he and his brother be dead as martyrs instead of living symbols of Wen cruelty that, despite all their high-flying talk of rules and ethics, the Lan sect would do absolutely nothing about.

Still, he had been the man’s student once, so he bowed his head politely and called him teacher when Lan Qiren came to speak with him during one of the rest periods between speeches.

“Are you well?” Lan Qiren asked. “You are not being mistreated…?”

“Would it make a difference if I was?” Nie Mingjue asked. When Lan Qiren flinched, he shrugged. “In that case, honorable teacher, I’m fine. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go find my brother; he needs to be properly prepared for the competitions later.”

A flimsy lie, intentionally so, and Nie Mingjue wondered if he really had picked up something of Qishan Wen cruelty after all. It was only that it hurt him to see them there, standing free and saying nothing – the Lan had once been the closest allies of the Nie sect, just as the Jiang and the Jin were often paired together – and he couldn’t quite resist wanting to make them hurt, too, no matter how much he knew it was beneath him.

You were friends with my father and they murdered him, he wanted to shout. Murdered him, and I had to watch him die twice over! How can I be well? How can you dare to ask that of me, have you been well, as if I were still free to speak my mind, to be straightforward and honest, without having to always think of the pain that will follow later?

Maybe Wen Ruohan’s lessons really were starting to sink in, he thought bitterly, and hated himself for it.

He still didn’t apologize to Lan Qiren, but he did go to find Nie Huaisang, making the lie into truth. There wasn’t any point in registering his useless brother in any of the physical competitions, of course, but at every discussion conference there were also smaller competitions in the arts – calligraphy, painting, poetry – and Nie Mingjue was more than willing to lose a little of the pocket money he received each month (pointlessly, since he wasn’t allowed to leave the main manor or visit the markets of the Nightless City for fear that he would try to run away or make a scene) in betting on his brother’s success in those.

He also bet on Wen Qing in the competition of doctors’ apprentices, and Wen Ning in alchemy, archery and weiqi; he even put some money on Wen Chao for mathematics and told him so.

Wen Chao gaped at him. “Me? Mathematics?”

“You always answer those questions faster than anyone else,” Nie Mingjue pointed out, and patted him on the head the way Wen Chao not-so-secretly liked. “Do your best. If you place in the top twenty, I’ll have the kitchens make something sweet that you won’t have to share, something just for you.”

“…could I share it anyway? If I wanted to.”

“Of course,” Nie Mingjue said, pleased by the unexpected question and happy to show it. “It’ll be yours. You can do anything you want with it, even share.”

There weren’t even a full forty people planning to compete in mathematics, so he was moderately confident that Wen Chao – who wasn’t as stupid as he sometimes let himself think he was – would be able to place somewhere decent, and even if he didn’t Nie Mingjue wouldn’t hold it against him. He wouldn’t demand perfection and then ignore it the way Wen Ruohan did.

“Mingjue-xiong!”

Nie Mingjue turned to see Lan Xichen hurrying over, insofar as the Lan sect ever hurried. Lan Xichen’s younger brother was probably also getting ready for the arts competition – the two of them would undoubtedly dominate the juniors’ music competition, as they always did, and probably many of the other juniors’ categories as well – so it wasn’t a surprise to see him there, but it was still nice. They’d only spent a few months together during the summer Nie Mingjue had spent at the Cloud Recesses, his father trying to get him away from politics for at least a short time, but they’d been friendly back then, maybe even friends, even though Lan Xichen was a couple of years younger than him.

“It’s good to see you,” Lan Xichen said, his voice warm. “I wanted to write you a letter, but everyone said it was a bad idea.”

“It probably is,” Nie Mingjue admitted. He didn’t even know what he’d say in response to such a letter – what he was allowed to say, and what he wasn’t. “It’s good to see you, too. Are you competing in the fights later on?”

“I am, though I’ve heard that the main competition this year – swordsmanship – is going to be melee style, which means you’re certain to wipe the floor with everyone. But I can at least hope to place, if nothing else.”

Melee style favored the saber and the aggressive style of the Nie, so Lan Xichen was probably right – it wasn’t as though the Nie sect had sent any disciples, given that it was still officially in mourning for its sect leader. Nie Mingjue should be in mourning, should be refusing to eat meat since he was too young for the obligation to refrain from sexual congress to matter much to him, but it had been pretty clear from his first day at the Nightless City that he would either eat meat or have it forced down his throat. In the end, he’d given up on all the rest of it as well. He could mourn later, when he was free.

Assuming he’d ever be free again.

“Pity you can’t bet on a competition you’re participating in,” he teased, and Lan Xichen did him the grace of at least pretending to smile back. “Maybe you can get ahead of me in archery instead.”

Lan Xichen snorted at that. “I’m still counted among the juniors for archery, while you’re with the seniors,” he reminded him. “But somehow I don’t think that would make much of a difference.”

“I’m not that good at archery,” Nie Mingjue protested cheerfully. “Besides, I haven’t been allowed to practice it in months, not since –”

He stopped, realizing what he’d just said, and what he’d been about to say, from the way Lan Xichen’s face turned pale.

“Don’t think about it,” he advised his friend, turning his head away. He didn’t want to see Lan Xichen’s face like that, all sick with grief. “I try not to.”

Lan Xichen squeezed his hands. “You’re still yourself,” he said. “As long as you can keep true to that, nothing else matters.”

Nie Mingjue hoped he was right.

-

Nie Mingjue won the melee but lost in archery to Wen Xu, which was a result that pleased them both – Nie Mingjue was still growing and didn’t have the arm strength necessary to fully pierce the target, which gave Wen Xu’s equally accurate hits the small advantage needed to win.

“You’ll win it next time,” Wen Xu told him, and Nie Mingjue shrugged. “You will! You’ve grown nearly a quarter chi in the time that I’ve known you, and you weren’t short to start with.”

“And maybe next time the fighting won’t be melee,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. “There are formats that favor the sword more.”

Not to mention that next time, the main event wouldn’t be the sword, since discussion conferences generally rotated between the various martial skills.

Wen Xu rolled his eyes at him, though, clearly disregarding his words, and Nie Mingjue didn’t disagree - despite his words, he was proud of what he’d achieved.

He was even more proud of the younger children, though: Wen Qing was first in her competition and pleased as a well-fed cat about it, Nie Huaisang had placed second in calligraphy and fifth in poetry, and Wen Ning had gotten seventh in alchemy, his best result in years given his usual anxiety about performing in public. Wen Chao was the biggest surprise, having actually managed to come in fourth in mathematics, and everyone crowded around him, congratulating him, even as he stumbled around in a daze.

“He’d never tried to do well before,” Wen Xu said, catching Nie Mingjue’s gaze and his train of thought with it. “There wasn’t any point, since Father doesn’t care about the smaller competitions, only the main event, and mathematics is never a main event.”

“Surely the fun of winning is motivation enough?” Nie Mingjue asked. “He did well enough this year without advance study that he’d be sure to place in the top three in the next discussion conference if he really put in some effort.”

“He didn’t actually think he’d win,” Wen Xu said dryly. “He just didn’t want you to lose money.”

Nie Mingjue was about to explain that he didn’t care about the money – he wasn’t allowed to go spend it, as Wen Xu knew, and he didn’t see much point in hoarding it when it could be taken away just as easily as it was given – but then the children saw them coming and ran over.

Nie Huaisang in the lead, shouting, “Da-ge! Da-ge! You won!”

“Of course he won,” Wen Chao snapped at him, but in a good-natured, excited sort of way. “Who else did you think was going to win?”

“We all bet on you,” Wen Qing told him.

“Oh, come now,” he protested. “Someone should have bet on Wen Xu!”

“I would have told them off if they had,” Wen Xu said. “Well done. How much did we win?”

“We? Wen Xu! You can’t bet on your own matches!”

“Oh no,” Wen Xu said drolly. “Is that so? My mistake. I must have missed that.”

“Can’t you at least try to make it sound convincing…?”

-

Wen Ruohan was pleased with the results of the discussion conference. He made them stand up and recite their accomplishments at dinner, nodding as they did, and when he was done treating them like dancing monkeys, he told Wen Xu, “Next time, you come in first,” and swept out without another word.

“What a shitheel,” Nie Mingjue said, a little blankly. To not even give a single word of praise…!

“He can hear you,” Wen Chao hissed, horrified, glancing at the door.

“He was talking about someone else,” Nie Huaisang said quickly. “That person back at the conference – you remember?”

“Of course, of course, yes, I remember,” Wen Qing said. “That person. He was definitely a shitheel.”

Nie Mingjue felt the warmth of their affection, and it only made Wen Ruohan’s negligence rub his heart the wrong way even more.

“You all did wonderfully,” he told them, since someone should. “And I have no doubt that you will do even better at the next conference. You should be proud of yourselves. I’m certainly proud of you.”

He remembered that much, at least, when he woke up two days later, the magnitude of the beating he’d received for his impertinence having apparently knocked the rest of the day cleanly out of his head. There was some more afterwards that he’d said, apparently, but he remembered the important point, and he didn’t want to press any further; the others looked so miserable already.

“Maybe this’ll teach you a lesson,” Wen Xu said, and flinched when Wen Chao kicked him in the shins and ran away sobbing. “I didn’t - I just meant…”

“No, no, I understand,” Nie Mingjue said. The advice had been meant kindly, even if it was phrased badly.

Wen Qing huffed. “I bet you don’t,” she said, rubbing her nose, her own eyes suspiciously red. “What is it exactly you think you’ve learned?”

“Wait until he’s out of earshot to call him a –”

“I am going to smother you with your own robes,” Nie Huaisang announced. “Or at least gag you for your own good. Who’s with me?”

Nie Mingjue raised his one hand that still worked in surrender at the array of murderous glares in front of him. “Don’t attack me, I’m injured?”

No one seemed very impressed with that argument.

“You can’t do that again,” Wen Ning said quietly. His fingers were tight on the blanket. “Okay? You need to be more careful.”

“I don’t know if I can be,” Nie Mingjue said honestly. He was born with a mind as straightforward as the clean slice of a saber – what he felt, he thought; what he thought, he said. He was trying to learn politics and diplomacy, but it was hard on him, difficult. He was not and would not ever be a subtle man. “I’ll try, though.”

“Good,” Wen Xu said. “We need you to stick around.”

Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure why – he felt more and more extraneous these days, with no sect of his own to inherit and little purpose to life other than his determination that Nie Huaisang, and now the others, live as good a life as possible under Wen Ruohan’s endless tyranny – but he nodded agreeably.

They didn’t seem quite satisfied with that.