#and community classes and groups for learning new things

[seeminglydark]

Homeless? Struggling? Bad at reading cuz you’re an undiagnosed dyslexic with head trauma? That’s ok, Sully! The library is for everyone, and full of resources, hope, (and spooky audio books!) to help you on your way.

The story I’m currently working on, Creaky, tells the story of Sully’s homeless years where he struggles to find a place for himself in the world, and he utilizes the public library for so many things, even just a safe space to feel a little less alone and invisible. He’s going to make it out alive not matter what. Punk’s not dead, it’s at the public library! It’s National Library Week and with current events stacked against them, I wanted to make a special piece to honor them.

This one is dedicated to @lesbrarians, my bestie and the person who makes my work come alive with their editing and second looks. With out them, we might not have made it this far.

Now go out and get your library card!

Xoxo RJ

[leeloooonfire]

based on this post about Steve's internalized bi-phobia:

Steve has known for years.

And how could he not when Tommy's freckles come back tenfold each spring like a flower peaking it's head through the last layer of snow? Or when Matthew Carver's hair have a reddish brown tone that turns blond after they spent the last days before summer break practising outside and remind Steve of liquid gold? Or when he watches Star Wars and Harrison Ford, rugged and witty, comes into view and twists his stomach in knots? How could he not know?!

Steve knows he finds guys as attractive as girls, known for many, many years. But.

But he can't. Not when Tommy sneers at that boy in their literature class who likes flamboyant clothes and wants to be an actor on Broadway. Not when the people they meet in Indi who are like Robin and Eddie 'fully queer' and talk about people like Steve as if they're traitors and scams. Not when he reads the newspaper and is assaulted by Reagan and his folk preaching about the 'fag pandemic' or how his father nods in approval and mutters 'another sinner gone for good' when the news play on TV and they occasionally mention the crisis that kills people like Robin and Eddie and him.

Like him....

It doesn't matter how much he loves sleeping with his nose pressed against Eddie's collarbone or that he thinks he'd like to kiss Eddie and hold his hands and wake up beside him until they're old and wrinkly and complain about bad knees.

He is, but he cannot be a queer, half a fairy '50% like me, 50% like Eddie' as Robin jokes.

He will not be a bisexual, he can keep it inside, keep it hidden, buried deep inside him no matter how much it pains him. He can be the straight friend who goes to pride and bakes rainbow cakes and marries a woman even though his heart screams in an ear ringing cacophony, 'Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie!'

This is how his 20s go: loud and hurting and yearning and hiding and more noticeably being disgusted and ashamed of himself for simply being able to love men the way he can love women.

He's 29 when his wife, Becky, leaves him. It's not just Eddie and this shameful secret that weights heavy on their relationship, but the scars and all the other secrets he is unable to explain to her that drive Becky finally away - back to Boston. She leaves him alone in that tiny house they bought three years ago with their Saint Bernard puppy they lovingly named Bernadette.

He's 30 when he goes to a coffee meeting of the bisexual group meeting in Chicago, nearly turning the car multiple times, hands and knees sweaty with fear that they won't want him there. They do want him there, welcome him with open arms, and talk about things Steve knows all too well: 'When I fell in love with the first girl, I ran. I like men just fine, so I hid my crush. It's just easier, when your parents hate gays, when the world is shaming our community, when we're dying.' He finds a second home there, and learns - learns about queerness and bisexuality, about trans and gender non conforming people and physical attraction versus emotional attraction. He learns about his past and present and about his future, about their history and where they want to go, how they want to mold their world to fit people like them into it without the pain and the hiding.

Steve is 33 when he finally comes out to everyone dear to him. To the kids who aren't kids anymore and to Joyce and Hopper, and then his parents. this does not go well, but Steve doesn't want, doesn't need their validation anymore. He has his family, his friends, his support system who love him not regardless of his sexuality but because of it, love him because it's part of him. He comes out to Becky, too and that goes much better. they want to be friends, in the future. She's also met Gary who works the the NY Times and wants her to follow him into the big city. So Steve is looking forward how that goes, their tentative friendship.

He is 34 when Eddie comes back from his latest world tour and wants to take a break to rekindle with his uncle, to write new songs, to take a breather. It's only natural that Eddie moves into Steve's guest room and takes over his space on the couch where he cuddles Bernadette while Steve is in the kitchen and makes them grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner.

Its even more natural when their feet meet while watching a movie and they lean into each other in the kitchen, dawn barely there, while they wait for the coffee maker to finish.

Steve's 35 when Eddie finally kisses him and he kisses back. No hurt, no shame, no guilt gnawing on him, Steve finally allows himself to be with the person he truly wants - regardless of their gender.

[yutarot]

butterfly. l.jn

guitarist!jeno, college au, band au, friends to lovers, fluff

wc. 8k

synopsis. after you and three other students transfer to a new college, a rumour goes around that the lead guitarist of the college’s rock band has a thing for one of the transfers. you don’t care, not until the transfer you had grown closest to disappears and only one name runs through your head as to who’s at fault: lee jeno.

warnings. depictions of bullying, reader has a hard time in the beginning, reader has character development, language, mention of alcohol

you have never liked attention, it has always seemed to overwhelm you. you never even had a birthday party when you were younger, the fear of a group of people singing happy birthday for you and only you worried you beyond belief. so when a video of you falling in the middle of a lecture on your way to the bathroom began circulating around your college, you knew that it was time to transfer to another college as far away as humanly possible.

so that leads you to now, feet rooted in place as you stand at the door of your new dorm, running your hands through your hair in the fear of either a weird or rude roommate. you take your time in knocking, eventually deciding to get it over with. 

when the door opens, the girl on the other side of the threshold gasps, noticing the suitcase by your side. 

‘oh my god, come in!’

her enthusiasm throws you backwards as you smile, hesitantly walking through the door and letting her take your things, placing them on one of the beds.

she reaches out her hand to shake yours, ‘im karina, but most people back home call me rina.’

you take her hand, noticing the sweetness of her smile as she looks at you. after a moment of silence, you realise what she had said.

people back home?

‘you’re a transfer student too?’ you ask. 

she grins, lighting up and nodding at your question. 

the next few hours, you spend time getting to know each other: your food preferences, what time you sleep, and eventually each other's majors - hers being communications whilst yours is economics. you also learn that karina had only been here for a few hours before you, her energy and productivity just meant that she had unpacked in impossible speed.

you practically spend the whole night in excitement, cooking dinner and listening to music.  you even learnt about each other's past relationships, watching her face drop when you explained you’d been single your whole life. it was nice, more than nice, to have a friend you click with that quickly, and you thank whoever is looking over you for having put you both in a dorm together.

the next morning, you had made it to your first class far too early, insisting that you walk with karina to her class before waiting around for yours. you hadn’t spoken to anyone else yet, learning instead from the chatter of conversations around you that this semester there were four transfers, you, karina and two you hadn’t met yet. you stay quietly tucked against the wall as you wait, disliking the looks of confusion as people see you waiting for a class they’ve never seen you in before, but you disregard it, it’s better than the looks you got last year. 

when the lecture before yours eventually floods out, you silently creep in, securing your seat at the back corner of the hall before anyone else arrives. something inside of you secretly hopes that someone sits beside you, offering you their friendship, but by the time the lecture starts, the seat beside you remains empty, disappointment fading into your chest as you try to not let it bother you. 

instead, there was something else bothering you: the indistinct feeling of somebody watching you. that was not something you weren’t used to feeling, so like always, you ignore it; nothing good can ever come out of having a pair of eyes trained on you. 

to say that the lecture was boring was an understatement. leaving the hall, you spot karina waiting for you by a bench and you make a direct beeline in her direction. 

‘how was your first class?’ she asks, standing up the moment she sees you. 

‘pretty boring.’ you drone. ‘you?’

‘aww. i made friends with one of the other transfers! her name is sakura and she's soooo sweet.’

your interest peaks at the mention of another transfer student. immediately you ask karina for more details, but when she replies complaining about only exchanging a few words with her, the subject moves swiftly on. 

‘so..’ karina starts, walking side by side with you as you make your way back to your dorm, ‘you don’t have anything planned tonight, do you?’ she asks. 

you furrow your brows, ‘nope, haven’t exactly made any other friends..’

‘perfect!’ she bursts in reply, ‘me and you are going to karaoke.’

your heart stills. ‘absolutely not.’

‘come onnn, it’ll be fun.’

the look she gives you makes you feel as though if you don’t accept her offer, she’ll likely go with someone else instead, and with her as your only friend, it would be nice to keep her around. 

you give her a look of inconfidence before slowly nodding. she jumps up and down, pulling you into a hug as she takes your arm, running towards the dorm in excitement.

why the hell did you say yes, you ask yourself, sitting nervously on the sofa of the karaoke room you and karina occupy, watching as she sings her heart out to ‘little light’. you clutch your fingers in your palm, trying to ignore the sweat that has accumulated due to your nerves. it’s been nearly 4 years since you last sang, and now you’re about to break that. she’s about to see a side of you you’ve never shown anyone else before, all except the shampoo bottles that line the shelves in your bathroom. 

as her song comes to a stop, you give her a well deserved round of applause; the entire song may have consisted of her shouting down the mic, entirely out of breath, but it was incredibly entertaining. 

‘thank you, thank you.’ she bows in laughter before sitting down. only then do you realise that it’s your turn, getting up and standing where karina just was, trying to ignore your knees as they attempt to buckle beneath you. 

you look through the song book, scanning the pages until a song jumps out at you. you used to sing this song to yourself every time you felt angry, using it to compress any emotion that threatened to break through your minds well constructed walls. you take the remote, pressing in the numbers for ‘stop crying your heart out’ by oasis. 

the music begins, flourishing through you like a fever, gripping a vice-like hold on your heart as it ripples through you. you hold the mic to your lips, letting the melody leave you, alongside all the thoughts and suffocating emotions that have been trapped within you for the past few months. it’s freeing, but incredibly captivating. it’s only after the song finishes that you remember where you are, the colourful lights of the karaoke room fading into darkness and the silence that follows strikes your gut in fear.

but it’s the look on karina's face that truly shocks you.

she stands there, completely and utterly in awe. not a word leaves either of you, completely bewildered by the past 4 minutes. 

‘wow…’ she whispers, ‘you can sing.’

you laugh to yourself quietly. ‘not really..’

‘not really?! yn you just sang the most beautiful thing i’ve ever heard in my entire life!’ she says, walking towards you in excitement. 

ever so slightly, you let a proud smile slip. noones ever complimented your singing before. noones ever gotten a chance to hear you.

‘thank you.’ you grin. 

‘i don’t know how i’m ever going to live up to that.’ she says, scrolling through the songbook. 

you grab her attention, ‘why don’t we sing a duet!’

‘i thought you’d never ask!’ she exclaims. 

telling her you need to grab a drink before you start, asking her if she wants anything too, you step outside the karaoke room, walking to the main desk.

quietly, you sing the tune you just sang to yourself, the melody stuck in your head. 

you make it to the front desk, asking the woman sat there for two more drinks. you feel an inpatient presence behind you and take note to order your drinks a little quicker. you take them and head back to the karaoke room, karina jumping up when you arrive and immediately pressing the button for ‘2 baddies.’

the next few days, you and karina are inseparable, spending all your free time together around campus, studying together, eating together. you’re glad to have her around, not knowing what you would do without her. 

you’re sitting on a table in the library when you hear a voice from above you. 

‘karina and yn right?’ he says, looking between you. ‘i’m chenle, i heard you guys are transfers too?’

you look at karina, her face is, like always, filled with joy at meeting someone new. you don’t understand how she does it. 

‘yes! i’m karina, that’s yn! sit with us.’ she says, motioning to the empty space beside you.

he takes a seat, placing his bag by his feet. 

you learn he’s a math major so you and him get on pretty well, discussing your classes. you try your best to be outgoing, but you can tell karina can see you're struggling when she takes over the conversation. 

however, your discussion is cut short when chenles friends come over, calling for him to join them and laughing, talking about something to do with a poster. 

you ignore it, going back to studying. it’s probably something stupid, you tell yourself.

it was definitely not something stupid.

after finishing your assignments at the library, you and karina decide it’s time for a snack before you head back to your dorm. unlike usual, you decide to go to the main cafeteria, somewhere you’ve avoided for the past week for the pure fact that it always seems far too busy to get a seat. 

but today, all the people in the cafeteria don’t seem to be sat at tables. instead, they all form herds around multiple sections at the edges of the hall, seemingly noticing something that’s hung up on all of the walls.

all of the people except one group of girls.

as you and karina walk in, the groups of people grow weary, a shift in their excitement suddenly simmering around the room.

curious to see what all of the fuss is about, you make your way to one of the posters, but when you read the words printed on it, your entire demeanour begins to shatter. 

karina reads the words on the poster out loud, slowly and steadily relaying the message back to you. ‘a little birdy told me that guitarist of the NCU band, lee jeno, has a thing for one of the transfers. that’s unbelievable!’ she says, ripping the poster from the wall and scrunching it into a ball before eventually putting it in the bin. ‘they’re trying to make fun of us!’ she exclaims. you’ve never seen karina this annoyed. she takes your wrist before dragging you both to your dorm. 

you sit together on the sofa, digging into the takeout that karina ordered you both. 

‘urg.. i just can’t believe someone would start a stupid rumour like that. who even is lee jeno?’ she rambles.

you shrug your shoulders, denying the fact that the name is ever so slightly familiar to you. you had heard a group of girls talking about him in your lecture, describing him like he’s some sort of profound campus celebrity. 

suddenly, a thought hits you. 

‘if he’s a member of the college rock band, surely he’ll be on their instagram?’ you suggest. 

karina shrieks, ‘yes! you’re right.’

she grabs her phone, typing ‘NCUband’ into the search bar and eventually finding their instagram account. you peer over her shoulder, an array of images covering her screen. but one image sticks out to you. you lean over, clicking on the image, a guy with black hair in front of a dark blue background lighting up on karina's phone. you look at the caption, ‘#JENO.’

‘holy shit, it’s him.’ karina says, eyes fixated on the screen ahead of her. you giggle at her blushing. 

not because you find her behaviour odd, but because you relate to her reaction entirely. that’s one incredibly attractive man if you’ve ever seen one. 

‘i’m starting to hope it’s me that he’s crushing on.’ karina jokes, and you playfully hit her arm. 

after scrolling through the comments, you learn just how popular lee jeno really is, an array of compliments under each and every post. you also scroll through the rest of the account, learning the rest of the rock bands members to be named yangyang, yuta, ten and haechan. 

‘no but seriously, don’t you think it’s kind of weird?’ you say. 

‘what do you mean?’

‘the poster and about jeno having a thing for one of us. it’s so random.’

karina nods. ‘true, but it’s kind of fun if you think about it.’

you laugh, but you’re not so sure you agree. 

that night, you lie in bed, unable to let sleep take over you. just when you think you might get a chance to get some shut-eye, someone knocks at your door. 

you hear karina shuffle out of bed, ‘i’ll get it!’ she says, running to the door. 

trusting her to deal with whoevers standing outside your dorm at 1 in the morning, you slowly drift off to sleep, letting the feeling of slumber lull you away.

loneliness. that’s what you’re afraid of, being alone. 

you’re entire life, you’ve felt like you’ve been living it by yourself, surrounded by nothing but your own thoughts. now, in a new place surrounded by new people, you’ve felt nothing but warmth and comfort. karina had given you all of that with her friendship, let you discover what it means to not live life alone. 

but all of that stopped the second you woke up.

brushing your sheets off of you, you walk to the kitchen. you expect to see karina there, as usual, studying on the table in your kitchen area, coffee on the desk ahead of her. but the table is clear, coffee machine still cold.

confused, you make your way to karina's room, knocking on her door. 

silence.

deciding she probably overslept and not wanting her to miss her morning class, you open the door. 

but when you do, your heart melts.

you’ve never felt this way before: completely and utterly helpless, world shattering before you with nothing you can do about it.

you stay standing in the threshold, unable to walk inside in fear that reality will sink in further.

her room is empty. karina is gone, along with all of her stuff.

you close the door, tears falling down your cheeks. 

your only friend, the only person you’ve ever truly connected with, has left. your mind whirs in circles at what you could have possibly done to make her want to go home.

you’re alone, the very thing you’re afraid of. 

and gaining loneliness is far more painful than maintaining it.

that day, you spend your entire time by yourself. sitting by yourself in the library, grabbing lunch by yourself, walking to class alone, all of the things you’d usually do with karina replaced by the overshadow of silence. 

you’re walking back to your dorm when you hear the sound of laughter up ahead of you, what looks like two guys walking in your direction from a distance.

it’s only when they get closer that you notice one of their faces. 

lee jeno.

you stop in your tracks, bewildered with a new sense of anger you’ve never felt before. 

he did something, you know it, he’s the reason for it. 

it must have been karina that the poster was about, he must have come looking for her last night at your dorm, he must have scared her off enough to go home.

it’s his fault.

noticing your stare, jeno and who you're presuming is his bandmate, haechan, stop ahead of you. 

jeno doesn’t say a word. 

‘uh, you okay?’ haechan speaks up, laughter lining his tone.

‘not really.’ you snap back. ‘i need to talk to jeno… alone.’

jeno’s face lights up in confusion. he turns to haechan, ‘mine and yuta’s dorm is 120, here’s the key, i'll be up in a sec.’ haechan nods before walking off. turning back to you, jeno gives you his full attention.

‘what’s up?’ he says.

‘it’s karina, isn’t it?’ you say, ‘the girl you have a thing for.’

you almost notice his laughter slip as he tries to hold it in. ‘woah, woah, woah. what??’ 

‘the poster-‘

‘i know about the poster. but why do you think it’s karen, or whatever her name is?’

‘karina,’ you correct him. ‘and because she left this morning after someone came knocking on our dorm last night! you scared her off, didn’t you?’

he looks taken aback, completely and utterly stunned at what you're implying. 

‘so, let me get this straight.’ he says, shaking his head.‘not only do you believe this rumour about me, but you think its about your roommate? and that i went to her dorm and scared her into leaving? do you realise how crazy this sounds?’ 

you listen to his words, looking down at your fingers as you play with the hem of your t-shirt. only after hearing your accusation out loud do you understand the stupidity of what you're saying. 

‘sorry..’ you say, ‘i’ll just go.’

you turn around to continue on to your dorm when you hear his voice echo from behind you. 

‘wait.’ he says. 

you turn around again, facing him. his face is unreadable. 

you wait for him to continue. 

‘don’t apologise.’ he says, a hint of a smile lining his lips. ‘it’s sweet that you care so much about your friend.’

you stand there, words unable to reach your lips. 

‘i’ll see you around, yn.’ he smiles before walking in the opposite direction.

it’s only after you make it back to your dorm that you realise you had never actually told him your name. 

the following week was difficult. you couldn’t even attempt to make new friends, whispers of why karina had suddenly disappeared, flooding the air and forming some kind of invisible repellent around you. you hate the attention, wishing you were anywhere but here as you walk through the library.

there’s not many students around, those who are here, burying their nose in whatever they’re reading. but as you walk absentmindedly through the aisles reading the book titles, you accidentally bump into the back of someone else, colliding with them and causing them to drop their book at their feet. 

‘ow!’ she yells, picking up the book and looking at you.

‘sorry..’ you say, quietly.

‘speak up, i can’t hear you.’ she says.

you want to run out of there, blood rushing through you in embarrassment.

‘i'm sorry.’ you say a little louder.

‘good.’ she says, but just as you think you got away with ending the interaction, her eyes narrow at you.

‘wait a minute…’ she looks you up and down. ‘you’re that transfer.. the one who’s always by herself.. yn ln, right?’ she giggles.

‘um yes.’

‘awww, it’s a shame your bestie left you, you must have done something horrible.’ she mocks, laughing in your face.

‘i didn’t actu-‘

‘oh, who cares.’ she suddenly says, before rolling her eyes and walking past you, bashing her shoulder against yours in the process and knocking you to the floor.

you fall onto the carpet, and as you try to get up, you hear the thud of her book as she throws it down at you. 

‘not nice to be barged into, is it?’ she grimaces, ‘put this back.’ her foot slides the book across to you as she leaves.

you feel like you're about to be sick, surrounded by the urge to cry and never stop. 

this is what you escaped from, this is what you ran from.

and it’s all come chasing you back.

you haven’t stopped crying. not when you got yourself up from the floor, not when you walked through the library and not even when you made it to your dorm. but you don’t want to be there, the lingering reminder of karina’s absence pressuring you into remembering just how alone you are. you wish you had other friends, wish you knew of some other place to go, but you don’t. 

your mind tracks through all the interactions you’ve had over the past week, most of them being passive aggressive remarks or curious questions about what happened to karina. but there’s one interaction that sticks out to you, the only nice interaction you’ve had without karina by your side.

lee jeno.

even though you were displaying your very obvious anger towards him at the time, he was nice to you - if ‘nice’ even counts for what he had said - but in terms of the lack of mean words, it was a lot nicer than any others.

that’s when you remember the beginning of your conversation with him, or more importantly, his conversation with haechan.

he had told him which dorm to go to, handing him over the keys. dorm 120.

you know it’s stupid, you know it’s completely and utterly ridiculous, but you can’t stand a moment longer in this dorm without knowing why karina left. not after what happened today, not after what’s been happening all week.

so here you stand, paying no mind to your tear stained cheeks as you knock on the door to dorm 120. 

your stomach is turning, reminding you of just how stupid this is, of why the college’s most popular guy would ever want to help you. 

when the door opens, it’s not jeno who stands there. instead it’s his roommate, red hair half in braids and makeup staining his eyes. 

he takes one look at you before calling out over his shoulder. ‘hey jeno, i think this one’s for you.’ 

as jeno’s roommate, yuta, steps away from the door, jeno emerges from around the corner. his eyes find yours in surprise, studying the red of your cheeks and the way you stand awkwardly at the door. 

‘yn? what’s wrong?’ he says, brows furrowing.

you don’t know why he cares, why he’s asking. he doesn’t know you. 

‘i, um, need a favor.’ you say quietly. 

he nods before stepping forward, closing the door behind him as he talks to you in the hallway. 

‘okay.’ he says, urging you to go on. 

‘everyone’s blaming me for her leaving, but i’m not the reason… i’m sure of it.’ you say, looking up at him. his face is stern, confused. ‘and i know she wouldn’t just up and leave like that, she was loving it here. there must be another reason. whoever was at our dorm that night, they made her want to go home.’

he nods the whole time you’re speaking, but your unsure if he’s even taking you seriously. he shouldn’t, he doesn’t know you, you’re just some girl who happens to know where his dorm is. 

you continue, ‘i’m tired of being treated this way. i want to find them and ask them why they did it.’ you look down at the floor, ‘but i don’t know how to find them… and i was hoping since you’re, you know, popular, you’d know enough people to help.’

he takes in every word you say, eyes giving off an emotion you just can’t decipher. 

there’s a second of silence before he responds. 

‘alright.’ he says, ‘i’ll help you.’

your eyes look up from the floor to catch his, a smile of hope forming on your lips and you swear you catch him gasp at your excitement, only to watch your expression fall moments later. 

‘but..’ he starts, ‘on one condition.’

you nod, willing to do anything so long as it means you won’t be lonely anymore.

he grins as he looks at you. 

‘if you sing for our band.’

it takes you a while to respond, completely baffled at how he had any idea you could sing. you stand there, thoughts swirling in your head. the confusion must have been evident on your face because jeno lets out a laugh.

‘don’t worry.’ he says, still trying to hold back his laughter. ‘i saw you at a karaoke bar a few weeks ago ordering drinks. i heard you singing to yourself when you walked up to the desk.’

so that was him? 

‘but.. i don’t sing.’ you say, shaking your head. 

he raises his eyebrows. ‘with a voice like that?’

you swear your heart nearly fails, unsure why.

‘you want me to help you?’ he says.

you think for a moment, weighing your options. you’re already gaining too much attention for you to handle, why not take on some more of it means you don’t have to bear it alone?

‘fine.’ you say, ‘i’ll sing for your band.’

he smiles, holding out his hand for you to shake and you get reminded of the day you met karina, shaking her hand as you first stepped into the dorm, not knowing where that friendship would bring you. 

but as you take jeno’s, there’s something different, something indescribable, as if you’re suddenly aware of what’s around you. 

and for once in your life, you don’t hate it.

your first practice with the rest of the band made you feel sick. when you sang infront of karina, you felt safe. nervous? yes, but safe. now, trailing behind jeno as you walk into the practice room, you feel yourself begin to grow terrified. 

‘everyone, this is yn, our new singer.’ jeno says.

you look around at their faces, recognising yuta and haechan as they throw you small smiles of recognition. the one you don’t recognise is introduced to you as yangyang. they all seem relatively nice, not telling you mean comments or giving you looks. they explain to you that their previous singer, ten, got ill a few days ago, and that they’ve been looking for someone to stand in for him in their gig next week. you clench your fists at the mention of having to sing infront of a crowd, and jeno notices your nerves, gently brushing the side of his finger along your forearm in comfort as he stands beside you. its a small gesture, but it means alot. 

you really don’t understand why he’s being so nice to you, helping you find out who sent away karina, but you taught yourself recently to not take kindness for granted. 

because it doesn’t stick around for long.

the rest of the band go to their instruments, warming up their sounds and jamming a melodic tune in sync with each other. you walk over to the mic, picking up the lyric sheet and studying the lyrics to ‘butterfly’. 

after yangyangs cue, the boys start playing their instruments to the song and immediately, you feel more at peace. it's as if the music swarms you, inviting you into an embrace as you begin to sing the lyrics. you drown out any fear, any temptation to want the floor to swallow you up and you just sing, note after note carving the melody. 

when the song ends, the room grows silent. 

‘fucking hell.’ yangyang curses, ‘we should have hired you the second you walked onto campus.’ he says. 

you turn to face them, and you giggle at the sight of them all portraying faces of shock. 

all of them except jeno.

his expression is calm, only a slight smile reaching his eyes as he looks at you. 

you notice haechan, his gaze fixated on jeno as he whispers something to yuta. 

for a moment, a completely impossible idea floods your mind. 

what if the poster was about you?

but when you think about it, truly think about it, you can’t believe you’d be so naive.

jeno was way too far out of the league of people that would be interested in you. crowds of people flock after him daily, he’s the most loved guy on campus. 

that poster was a result of a ridiculous rumour. besides, if it was anyone, it would be that other transfer karina had met: sakura. in your time knowing jeno, you’ve learnt that he admires sweetness, and from what karina had told you, that’s all sakura is. you had gotten falsely angry at him before he had even met you, you’re anything but sweet. 

when practice was over, yuta and jeno say their goodbye’s swiftly, saying something about a gathering as jeno quickly tells haechan something before he leaves. after yangyang goes home, that leaves only you and haechan to grab your things. 

‘you know, you shouldn’t be so nervous about your voice.’ haechan says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

‘thank you.’ you reply, smiling before walking to head out of the door. 

haechan runs after you, ‘woah woah woah, where do you think you’re going?’ 

you look at him in confusion. ‘um… back to my dorm..?’

‘nuh uh,’ haechan chimes, ‘not by yourself. sorry, captain's orders.’

it takes you a moment to realise that he’s talking about jeno.

‘jeno asked you to walk me home?’ you ask and he nods. ‘oh.. that’s okay you really dont have to, i’ll be fine..’

‘nope.’ he says, ‘follow me.’ 

you watch as he begins to walk in the complete wrong direction. 

‘you don’t know where my dorm building is, do you?’ you laugh.

‘nope. follow you.’ he says, turning around in the other direction, making you laugh. 

eventually making it to your dorm, he drops you off. 

‘thank you.’ you tell him.

‘no problem, yn.’ he replies. ‘oh and by the way,’ 

your eyebrow raises, waiting for him to continue. 

‘that rumour about jeno is true.’

you’re certain it's sakura. everytime you see her around campus, jeno and his bandmates always turn up. it’s as if every word of the poster is true, he really does have an eye on her. 

it’s the evening and you're bored in your dorm, eyes lingering on the empty space around you when you decide that you need to finally start your investigation with jeno. you’ve been putting it off, struggling to face the reality that someone had tried to do this to karina, to get her to leave. 

knowing you now have jeno’s number in your phone, you call him to meet you at the night cafe a few minutes away from the dorms. 

when you get there, jeno’s already at a table, a drink for either of you infront of him. 

‘hi.’ you say, and he smiles back at you. ‘so um.. where to start..’

jeno laughs at your awkwardness. ‘i have a question.’ he says, and you nod for him to proceed. ‘did karina make any, uh, enemies whilst she was here?’

you rack your brain, scanning through the conversations you and her would have after your lectures, but nothing jumps out at you. karina was always so nice, so bubbly to everyone around her. 

‘no.. i don’t think so.’

he nods, taking a sip of his drink as he thinks his next words carefully. 

‘did you?’

you freeze at his question and he notices. you so desperately want to tell him about the girl from the library, but something in you stops yourself. 

and you’re glad you did, because moments later, you notice the familiar ponytail peek out from the table behind jeno.

there she is, the girl from the library, sat with two other girls. you feel their eyes on you, notice their whispers and laughs as they look at you both, and that's when you realise how bad this looks, the situation your in. 

but when jeno slightly leans to the side to pick up his drink again, you notice the faces of the girls she’s with. 

and you recognise them. 

sitting at a table with the girl from the library, are two girls from your old college.

the girls that spread the video of you falling. 

when they see you notice them, their faces brighten, waving to you as they giggle.

jeno notices your distraction. 

‘hey, yn, you okay?’

you snap back to your conversation with jeno, ‘oh.. yes, sorry.’

‘thats okay, so like i was saying..’

jeno continues on but you can’t help but lose focus, instead watching as the girls get up from their table and head straight toward you and jeno.

‘shit.’ you murmur under your breath.

‘yn?’ jeno asks, concern lining his features.

‘hey yn.’ a separate voice speaks from beside you two. 

the girl from the library looks directly at him. ‘hey jeno.’

jeno looks at you, jaw clenching. 

‘what do you want, haewon?’ he asks, anger undoubtedly coursing through him, and you wish to uncover why. 

haewon giggles, laughing with the two girls from your old college. you try your best to ignore them, looking down at your drink as you pretend to stir it. 

haewon speaks up. ‘i want to know why you're here with this.’ she says, blatantly referring to you. 

jeno doesn’t speak, but you see his fists clench. 

one of the other girls speak up. ‘maybe he wouldn't be if he saw a little video i’ve got.’ she says. she presses play on the video, throwing the phone down on the table for everyone to see. 

but jeno’s eyes aren’t on the phone; they’re on you. 

and they’re livid. 

you’re still looking down, attempting to ignore them. 

haewon continues, ‘you know, jeno, if you were going to stoop this low after our breakup, i would have stayed with you to save you from the embarrassment of being seen with her.’

your head snaps up. 

our breakup? haewon is jeno’s ex?

noticing your attention, haewon taunts you. ‘thats right, yn, i bet you weren’t expecting that were y-’

‘leave her alone.’ jeno’s voice is harsh, stern. 

haewon looks taken aback. ‘she didn’t tell you, did she?’ she says to jeno. ‘about our little incident in the library when she pushed me.’

jeno’s eyes snap to yours and he can tell you want to leave, want to get out of here and never look back. 

but he’s curious, so he doesn’t interrupt haewon, not yet.

she continues, ‘of course, i didn’t let her get away with it though. left her crying on the floor where she belongs.’ she laughs, the two others laughing with her. 

but jeno is anything but amused. 

you’ve never seen him so angry, full of so much emotion as he stands, kicking his chair behind him and walking around the table to grab your wrist, pulling you out the cafe entrance and back onto the street. haewons laughter fades into the distance. 

you think he’s going to yell at you, be angry at you for pushing his ex. 

but just when you think he’s going to yell at you, he does quite the contrary. 

at first, the warmth of his arms around you causes you to still. but when you hear him murmur apologetically, you melt into his arms. 

weirdly, you feel safe, as if his arms can protect you against everything in the world, your fears, your hatred, your loneliness.

and its then that you realise that ever since you turned up outside his dorm that night, you haven’t felt loneliness once, as if, unknowingly, he had healed you of it all simply with his presence. 

after a moment, you pull away from the hug. 

‘why didn’t you tell me?’ he asks, searching your eyes.

‘because i didn’t think i could.’

the following week, you focus mainly on your assignments, as well as attending practice with the band when you could. you were beginning to gain confidence, with the gig in a few days and haechan giving you tips on performing, you were well on your way to feeling relatively okay about it all. you and jeno meet occasionally to try to decipher who had got karina to leave, but you keep getting hit with dead ends. it doesn’t help that karina’s the kindest person you’ve ever met; it’s impossible to find a single soul that could possibly hate her. 

you’re chilling in your dorm with a blanket and on your fourth rerun of pitch perfect when you receive a text from haechan. 

[18:22] haechan: yo

you open your phone, replying back to him with a single question mark. 

[18:22] haechan: me and the rest of the band have a party tonight if you'd like to come?

[18:23] haechan: no pressure tho ofc

[18:23] haechan: well maybe a little bit

your stomach churning at the thought of a party, you reply after little to no thought at all. 

[18:24] me: no sorry

[18:24] haechan: pleaseeeeee

[18:24] haechan: you can go if you feel uncomfortable i promise

[18:25] haechan: plus jeno wants you to come

really?

[18:25] me: okay

so it’s settled, your first college party. you’re literally about to kill haechan for convincing you to do this. 

dressing yourself in the only nice outfit you own, you answer your door as haechan, jeno and yuta arrive. after being informed that yangyang decided to stay back at his and tens dorm to not make ten feel left out, you all walk over to the house where the party’s being held.

you’ve never been to a college party before, only heard about them from friends and their experiences. 

as you walk into the house, you’re immediately overwhelmed. loud music and darkness fill the air and the entire place reeks of alcohol. noticing your nerves, jeno leans down to talk to you. 

‘i won’t leave you, okay? stay by my side.’

you nod, following him as the others split off. 

he offers you a drink and you gladly decline. he doesn’t make a fuss about it, just simply lets you enjoy yourself how you want. 

however, after a while, people's eyes begin to become evident to you, watching as people whisper and point to you and jeno. you hate it, you hate the way they’re looking at you like you’ve done something wrong. 

‘jeno?’ you say to him, but he already knows whats wrong before you even say it, grabbing your hand and pulling you along the party and towards the front door. 

but something, no, somebody stops you. 

haewon. 

she stand’s there, arms folded as she blocks the door from the kitchen into the hallway.

‘get out the way, haewon.’ jeno says, a warning lining the tone in his voice. 

‘so what if i don’t.’ she snaps back. ‘i have a little secret to tell yn over here.’

her eyes travel to you and you almost flinch when she smiles in your direction. 

but you won’t let her taunt you, not like this, not anymore. 

‘don’t talk to me.’ you say, and jeno’s brows lift in surprise at your remark. he smirks at your confidence. 

‘what was that?’ haewon scoffs. 

‘i said, don’t talk to me.’

she rolls her eyes, ‘pfft, you wouldn’t be so confident if you knew who jeno really had his eyes on.’

you sigh, ‘i already do.’

at that, jenos hand tightens around yours, urging you to look at him.

‘what?’ he mouths to you, but you don’t respond, facing back to haewon. 

‘it’s sakura.’ you say. 

with that, haewon lets out a laugh. not a cute laugh, or a kind one, but one laced with nothing but humiliation. 

‘sakura?’ she continues laughing, ‘you really think it’s her?’

you nod, and you feel jeno shift beside you. 

‘oh honey,’ she continues, ‘you couldn’t be more wrong. you should have seen the way he looked at karina. why else do you think she left you.’

her word’s stab you in the chest. not because of her laughter, not because of her humiliation and not even because of her words about karina. no, you know from jeno himself that it isn’t her.

but because, if jeno didn’t like karina, and if he didn’t like sakura. 

then that left just one person. 

you. 

you detach your hand from jeno’s hold, heading straight for the door, pushing past haewon with force. you don’t care what she thinks, you don’t care what it looks like, you need to get out of this party. 

this whole time, you’ve convinced yourself that you’re lonely, deprived from any kind of social connection, removed from any sort of status. but this whole time, he has been looking at you. 

your first lecture when you felt like someone was looking at you, your time at the karaoke bar, this whole time, it had been him. not the eyes of those judging you, not the eyes of people who hate you, but him.

you make it out to the front of the house, sitting on the curb by the road to collect your thoughts. the poster, karina leaving, none of it makes sense.

suddenly, you feel a presence beside you. turning your head to look at haechan as he sits down, you realise your vision is foggy, tears lining your lash line and threatening to drop.

‘i should have never done it.’ he says, looking at the ground. 

you look at him in question and he continues. 

‘i saw the way he used to look at you on campus, i knew he was obsessed with your voice after hearing you at the karaoke bar. i was just playing around, just teasing him for his hallway crush.’

you’re confused. ‘what are you talking about?’

‘i should have never made that poster. if i knew how much trouble it would have caused, i never would have done it. i'm so sorry, yn.’

you sit still, in awe at the confession of the man beside you. he had only intended to pull a prank on his best friend, but it had backfired.

you laugh and he looks at you, ‘its okay, haechan. you don’t need to apologise.’

‘i do.’ he smiles, ‘and im glad i have.’

you sit there for a moment, silence overwhelming you as you think over haechans words. 

‘i saw the way he looked at you on campus.’

the words are familiar, like an unfinished rhyme, beckoning to be completed. but as you sit in quiet, you suddenly remember something haewon had said moments ago. 

‘you should have seen the way he looked at karina.’

it all snaps together, like a magnet that never should have been split apart. 

haewon thought it was karina that her ex was crushing on. she was jealous, enraged. blinded by the fact that you and karina were inseparable, always side by side. it was an easy mistake, one that she must have overlooked when she had knocked on your dorm that night, using whatever manipulative skills she had to get karina to go home, to get her as far away from her precious ex as possible. 

you can’t believe it, how you didn’t figure this out sooner.

it was haewon this whole time.

you stand up, startling haechan, before running back into the party. you spot jeno, slumped against the kitchen counter, beer in hand. you can’t look at him, can’t process the fact that he might possibly have his eyes on you. 

instead, you look for haewon, heading straight in her direction the moment you see her. 

you don’t realise but haechan had clocked on, running over to jeno and explaining everything in as much detail as he could. 

you stand ahead of haewon, heart in your throat. 

‘it’s not karina.’ you say.

‘what?’ shes angry, annoyed that you’re even speaking to her. 

‘i know what you did, haewon. i know that you got rid of her.’

haewon smiles, and you want to wipe the smug grin off her face. 

so you do. 

‘but you got the wrong girl.’

as expected, haewons smile drops. 

‘what are you talking about?’ she says.

but it’s not you that answers. 

his voice is calm, collected. 

‘it was her i was looking at.’ he says, eyes drifting to yours. 

haewon stutters, angrily waving her arms around. 

‘you’re lying!’ she cries, ‘it’s me you should be looking at.’

but he doesn’t, not once, eyes never leaving yours. 

you smile silently, words not daring to leave your mouth in fear that they will choke you. 

haewon storms off, annoyed at the spectacle in front of her. 

jenos face is full of concern, a look of adoration covering his eyes that you’ve failed to recognise until now. 

‘so, you finally realised, huh?’ he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face. 

‘i thought it was sakura…’ you reply.

‘who?’ he laughs, and for once in your life, you laugh with him. 

the way he looks at you when you laugh is a face you want to remember forever.

‘oh and yn?’ he says, causing your eyebrows to raise in question. ‘i found out what college karina goes to from one of the guys over there. we can give them a call tomorrow and try to get her back if you’d like?’

your heart melts, sinking in your chest as your eyes began to gloss over. 

‘hey, what’s wrong?’ he questions, hand now moving to trace your cheek.

but you smile. 

‘thank you.’

and he smiles back. 

‘anything for you.’

3 days later.

‘yn? oh my god! wake up! i can’t believe you’d nap so late in the afternoon!’ 

you groan as you stir from, what was, a nice relaxing afternoon nap before you’re big gig. 

‘im being serious, yn! you have, like, twenty minutes.’ karina’s voice echoes in your brain and you shoot up, panic overflowing you. you check your phone, scrolling as hundreds of texts from each of the band’s members fly across your screen. 

‘shit.’ you curse, and karina laughs before helping you ready your things. trusting her to full capacity, you let her do your hair and makeup before pushing you out the door and running you over to jeno and yuta’s dorm. 

it was interesting introducing karina to the band when she came back, but you love the way they all get along, clicking with karina just as you did at the start of the semester. you told her about the whole situation with jeno, and despite learning the truth, you and him haven’t had the chance to talk about it yourselves.

once you and karina make it to the rest of the boys, you all head over to the venue. as you get closer and closer, your nerves heighten, heart pooling in your chest at the thought. 

the moment you’re backstage, you begin to panic, your chest tightening and restricting you from breathing. 

jeno’s beside you. he notices a shift in your demeanour, leaning down to look at your face in worry. 

‘yn?’ he whispers, ‘you okay?’

‘not really.’ you shake your head; you’re so incredibly nervous.

‘hey, look at me.’ he says, gently bringing his hand to your chin to tilt your head towards his.

the air around you both stills, the music quiets.

you look into his eyes and he looks into yours, as if you’re trying to find something in each other, something you can’t describe.

jeno begins to speak, hand lingering below your chin before moving to fix a few strands of your hair. ‘you know, the first time i heard you sing, that time at the karaoke bar, i was completely and utterly in love with you. you struck something within me, yn. it’s like i’ve been waiting around for you my whole life, like i’m a butterfly and you’re my wings.’ he smiles when he notices your breathing begin to slow, ‘you’re going to sound beautiful out there, just as much as you look it.’

you don’t know how to respond, how to meet his words with as much love as he gave you. so you do the only thing you know will show him just how much you mean it, just how much you’re thankful for him taking away your loneliness. 

you reach up, pressing your lips to his. 

he’s a little surprised at first, but after less than a second, his hands are around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. 

it’s beautiful: the art of not being alone, sharing a love with someone else as if they’re an extension of you. that’s how you feel in this moment, and that’s how you’ll feel forever. 

so as you step out onto that stage, jeno’s warmth still lingering on your skin, you know you're not alone, and you know you never will be.

not when he’s beside you.

[d1gitalwitness]

leverage redemption (redeems) itself

i kinda love that leverage redemption erased everything and everyone that was terrible on the original, and wrote stories that are now more acceptable on television than it was in the early 2000s. in this reboot, sophie is allowed to become the big hearted teacher that she has always been.

in the season one finale of leverage, eliot and hardison tell nate that they actually prefer sophie being the mastermind and running their cons ("you learn, and you con."). unlike nate, who rarely lets the team in on his plans, sophie - despite being a revered and feared grifter - takes the time to teach her craft to anyone who wants to learn, even to a newcomer like maggie. she explains the rationale behind why certain cons must be done a certain way. the team has little experience in the long con, but sophie does, and she teaches them the overarching picture of a scam, while respecting their individual professions and skills.

sophie isn't afraid to let the team try new things even during the con itself - things might go awry but she trusts them to handle themselves. even in the original, sophie gives just enough advice to parker on how to communicate with hardison, then lets parker calm hardison down when he was buried alive. she never ever condescends to the team, recognizing that they are world-class experts in their respective trades. this openness that sophie has is an aspect of leverage that i have always loved. it was also clear that during her absence in season two, the team was missing an emotional anchor. they confided in sophie about their fears and anxieties not because they don't trust nate, but because sophie always listens. maybe it is due to her profession as a grifter that sophie understands people and what they need so well, but nevertheless, the crew - a group of misfits from society - find solace in sophie.

but since nate was the mastermind, we didn't see this aspect of sophie as often during the original. and to be fair, the tragedy of nate's life also meant that show was also filtered through his anger - which isn't a negative, anger is a response to injustice - but sometimes, his anger tore the team apart.

with the departure of nate, leverage redemption cleverly makes the women the masterminds. we see sophie be the anchor of the crew - she guides and teaches them, and lets them handle themselves for the most part. with breanna, sophie is careful not to strike down her ideas. she trusts breanna's intelligence, and only offers advice when breanna needs it. there are just so many occasions when breanna thinks of a con, and everyone runs with it because they love and trust her. beyond this, sophie also encourages breanna to think of college - this is something nate would never do, consumed by rage and sometimes insularity. they may be very old thieves in this out of passion and a visceral sense of justice, but breanna can still forge a real life for herself. there is a lightness to the reboot that allows more space for compassion (it must be said, the show was always kind.)

even with the inclusion of a veteran like noah wyle, the series doesn't pander to his experience. harry wilson may be fifty years of age, but when it comes to running honest cons, he's an amateur, and the show treats him as such. harry has to find a specialty of his own, and sophie is there, giving him a chance to learn and fall over and again. you learn, and you con has become the theme of leverage redemption, and it is everything the original could have been.

it's even more special that instead of letting these women adopt stereotypical traits associated with male leads - stubborness, intractability and anger - leverage redemption shows us a world where compassion and grace are powerful and affecting emotions. sophie, breanna and parker have already established that they can stand on their own and hold their ground - they are assured in who they are, and don't have to resort to condescension and rage to get what they want. i find it incredibly moving and also an example of a reboot that is spectacularly done.

[assignedmale]

This September is Assigned Male Comics' 10th anniversary! What a ride it has been. What started off as doodles during class when I was still at school changed my life in so many ways. It brought me new friends, adventures, and love. It made me learn about art, about the world, about myself. (I also learned English - at the beginning, it was my friends who were translating the strips!) I am eternally grateful for the community that was created around these characters.

It hasn't always been easy. You probably saw firsthand at one point or another how threats and verbal abuse have been a daily routine of the past decade for me. I'm thinking about that time I got doxxed and forced into hiding, or when ne*-naz*s stormed a library I was speaking at, or when a certain hate group (the British government) published a letter in the media because my comics are threats to civilisation and whatnot. I look back at all these things, and sure, a part of me feels tired and exhausted, but also proud. Because despite everything, I chose to keep doing this, and I'm still here. It has to be worth something.

This year has been a struggle of every instant. I'm focusing on keeping my head above the water. Your help during the hardships of last winter has been so vital, and I thank you for being here and for your patience with order delays! The situation brought my husband and I to our knees, and we're still counting pennies to be able to afford groceries. Making art in this context has certainly not been the easiest.

Still, I find joy in making these comics. Creating something empowering and entertaining for trans communities and their allies feels essential now more than ever. Meeting so many of you during my speaking tours has been life-changing, and I cherish the memory of each of these encounters. I miss you all, by the way! I can't wait to be back on the road.

In the meantime, I'm announcing today a virtual speaking tour for the next few months! I will accept invitations from associations, groups, schools and libraries. I will make a separate post about it in the next few days, but feel free to message me now for more details.

Thank you for being part of this journey.

To many more!

xx

Sophie

To subscribe and help me towards financial stability : www.patreon.com/assignedmale

To get me a 10th anniversary coffee so I can stay up late partying (as if) : www.ko-fi.com/sophielabelle

(pictured : the page's first profile picture!)

[slaybinnie]

I loved your sieun fic, it was so cute and intimate..

do you mind doing something similar with suho but they make up after suho gets jealous over how much the reader is spending with a male classmate.. please and thank you🩷🩷

JEALOUS BABY

ׂ╰┈➤ suho x fem!reader

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), explicit language, jealousy lol, no protection used (sorry), slight communication avoidance, slight breeding kink (🤭)

about: suho feels that you’re spending a little too much time with your new classmate. he feels a little down about himself and avoids you.. but don’t worry, he’ll make it up to you.

note: anon! i'm so sorry it took me so long to answer. i've been so busy doing school work but im free now. here you go! hope you all love it < 3

╰┈➤ WORD COUNT: 4k

Suho trusted you. He really did, but Mingyu? Not so much.

Mingyu was the new transfer student at school and of course you just had to have an open seat next to you for him to sit in. Suho usually isn’t a jealous person. You have had guy friends, but this time it’s different.

Mingyu was tall, muscular, smart, not a fighter. Sometimes Suho felt that he couldn’t amount up to that. Even before you started dating Suho he’s been a fighter. Even though Suho only fought to defend, a hole still burns in his heart with the thought of you hating him for it.

The first week of Mingyu's arrival had been normal. You introduced him to your friend group and even helped him navigate the school. Suho had been nothing but supportive. That was just who Suho was. He was (usually) understanding and secure in your relationship.

But as the days of Mingyu being around turned into weeks, something shifted.

It was the little things that started to bother Suho. Mingyu would linger after class to ask you questions that seemed a lot more personal than academic. He'd save you a seat in the cafeteria when Suho was running late from his own classes. He'd even walk you to your locker when Suho couldn’t.

Suho noticed everything

“How was your day?” Suho asked one afternoon as you met him by the school gates.

“Good! Mingyu and I worked on the chemistry project during free period,” you said, adjusting your backpack strap. “Oh, and he asked if I wanted to go to that new bubble tea place downtown this weekend to continue working on it.”

Suho's jaw tightened subtly and his eyebrows furrowed. “This weekend?”

“Yeah, Saturday afternoon. The project is due Monday and we're nowhere near finished.” You looked at him with concern when you noticed his expression. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Suho replied quickly, forcing a smile. “I was just thinking we could spend Saturday together, but your project is more important.”

You reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers. “We can do something Sunday? Or maybe you could come with us? I'm sure Mingyu wouldn't mind.”

The thought of watching Mingyu charm you for hours while pretending to focus on schoolwork made Suho's stomach hurt. Hell no. “No, it's fine. You two should focus on your project.”

That Saturday, Suho found himself walking past the bubble tea shop three times, each time catching glimpses of you and Mingyu through the window. The last time Suho walked past, he finally stopped and thought about what he was doing. Gosh, he had to look like a stalker, he thought.

Suho exhaled a breath he didn’t even know he was holding before he forced himself to walk away.

Monday morning was supposed to be better, your presentation was finished and now Suho had you all to himself. Not. Your friendship with Mingyu had blossomed outside of a school environment. You couldn’t believe how much in common you had with him, and so couldn’t Suho.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of stolen glances and forced smiles. Suho watched as you and Mingyu discovered shared interests in everything. Every time you mentioned something new you'd learned about Mingyu, Suho felt a little piece of his confidence chip away.

“He's really funny,” you'd say after repeating some joke Mingyu had made during lunch. “You know the volunteer hours we have to do? He chose to volunteer at the animal shelter on weekends.”

Of course he did, Suho thought bitterly. Perfect Mingyu probably saved orphaned puppies in his spare time while Suho spent his weekends nursing his bruised knuckles and mopping restaurant floors for extra cash.

The breaking point for Suho came on a Thursday afternoon when he arrived at your usual meeting spot by the school gates to find you weren't there. He waited for fifteen minutes before his phone buzzed with a text.

Y/n: Baby! I’m so sorry! Mingyu needs me to go over a couple exam questions with him. Meet you at home instead?

Suho stared at the message, his chest tightening with an ache. This damn Mingyu guy. This isn’t the first time plans have changed because your friend needed help but Mingyu just irked Suho. He was jealous.

Instead of heading to your house, Suho found himself walking through the neighborhood, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his mind racing. By the time he finally knocked on your door, the sun was setting and his mood had soured.

“Suho!” You opened the door with a big smile. “I was wondering when you'd get here. Come in, I ordered your favorite food.”

He followed you inside quietly. “How was your talk with Mingyu?” Suho asked, trying to keep his voice calm as you both settled on the couch with your food.

“Oh, it was fine! I just explained why he got a couple answers wrong then we talked a little about music. He was telling me about this music festival he went to last summer. Apparently, some of my favorite artists were there. Small world, right?”

“Right. Small world.” He picked at his food, his appetite gone.

You sensed something was and sat down your fork and turned to face him fully. “Are you okay? You seem... down?”

Suho wanted to tell you everything. About how he felt like he was losing you, about how Mingyu seemed perfect in all the ways he wasn't, about how the thought of you realizing you deserve better kept him awake at night. Instead, he just shrugged.

“I'm fine.”

“Suho.” Your voice was gentle. “Talk to me.”

He looked at you and saw the genuine concern in your eyes. But instead of reassuring him, it only made him feel worse.

Before Suho could respond his phone buzzed. “A delivery, I got to go.”

You watched Suho grab his jacket and head for the door, confusion written all over your face. Something was definitely wrong, but he was shutting you out completely.

The next few days were torture for Suho. He kept showing up, kept being the supportive boyfriend, but there was a wall between you two that hadn't been there before. Every time you mentioned Mingyu's name, Suho felt that familiar twist in his chest. Why couldn’t he just tell you what was wrong?

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell you. He just didn’t want to seem like a controlling boyfriend. This feeling was new territory for Suho. He'd never been the jealous type because he'd never had something this precious to lose before.

Friday afternoon, Suho was cleaning tables at the restaurant where he worked part-time when his phone buzzed.

Y/n: Movie night tonight? I miss you :(

His heart clenched. He missed you too, desperately. He had to make things right tonight. No matter how it makes him look.

Suho: I’ll be there after work. 10:30 PM.

Y/n: Yay! I love you I love you I love you.

Suho laughed at your reply and for the rest of his shift, he was thinking about you.

-

The clock on your living room wall read 10:45 PM when you heard Suho's familiar knock at your door. You'd been curled up on the couch in your favorite oversized sweater and soft shorts, having already set up snacks and a movie queued that you both loved.

“Hey,” you said softly as you opened the door, immediately noticing the tension in his shoulders.

“Hey, baby.” His voice was quieter than usual, his eyes softening the moment he saw you. Despite everything weighing on his mind, you still had that effect on him. He loved you.

You led him to the couch and he settled beside you.

“I picked a movie,” you said, reaching for the remote, but Suho's hand gently caught your wrist.

“Can we... can we just talk first?” His thumb traced small circles on your skin, a nervous habit you'd noticed over the months you'd been together.

You turned to face him fully, tucking one leg under you. “Of course. What's been going on, Suho? You've seemed a little upset this week.”

He was quiet for a moment, staring down at where his fingers were still wrapped around your wrist. When he finally looked up, there was something vulnerable in his eyes that made you frown.

“It's about Mingyu,” he said quietly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Mingyu from school? What about him?”

Suho took a deep breath, and you could see him gathering courage. “I've been... I've had this feeling in my chest. Like I can’t help but feel upset or annoyed when he’s around or when you talk about him. And I hate myself for it because I know you haven't done anything wrong. You're just being a good friend to him, the same way you are with everyone. But watching you two together, seeing how easily you connect with him.” He paused and bit his lip, searching for the right words. “It makes me feel like I'm not enough for you. I’m jealous of him.”

The confession hung in the air between you, and Suho immediately looked like he wanted to take it back. His hand started to pull away from your wrist, but you caught it, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Suho,” you said gently, your heart breaking a little at the pain in his voice. “Look at me.”

His eyes met yours again. “You think you're not enough for me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, “He's everything I'm not. Smart, clean record, probably going to some fancy college. His biggest worry is probably which volunteer opportunity looks best on his resume, while I'm over here with fighting and doing part-time job barley getting by and trying to help my grandma with rent.”

“Stop.” Your voice was firm. “Don't talk about yourself like that.”

You shifted closer to him on the couch, bringing your free hand up to cup his cheek and he leaned into your palm.

“Suho, you want to know what I see when I look at you?” you spoke as your thumb brushed along his cheekbone. “I see someone who only fights to protect people he cares about. I see someone who drives me home after late study sessions even when he's exhausted from work. I see someone who always makes sure I get home safely.”

“I see the person I fell in love with,” you whispered, then his eyes locked with yours

“I was feeling annoyed,” he admitted pouting, “Annoyed that he was getting your time and attention. You’re my baby only.”

And that’s your Suho. Playful and silly. You couldn't help but smile at his confession, the way he got possessive but still managed to be endearing about it. “Your baby only?” you teased gently, watching as a slight blush crept up his neck.

“Don't tease me,” he mumbled, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I was being serious about the jealousy thing.”

“I know you were,” you said, your thumb still tracing gentle patterns on his cheek. “ I'm being serious too when I say you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Mingyu is just a friend, Suho. He could never be what you are to me.”

Suho's eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of doubt or uncertainty. When he found none, his shoulders seemed to relax for the first time in weeks. “I feel stupid.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek “Can I tell you a secret?”

He nodded.

“I get jealous too. Do you know how many times I wanted to fight the girls and boys around us because of how they look at you? How they talk sweet to you.”

Suho pursed his lips and replied, “You shouldn’t get jealous, they’re not you.”

“Exactly my point,” You replied smiling.

The two of you stared at each other before Suho spoke again, “I’m sorry for how I treated you this week. It wasn’t fair to you. And I love you,” he said, the words carrying all the emotion he'd been holding back for days.

“I love you too,” you whispered back before his lips were on yours.

The kiss started soft, almost hesitant, as if he was asking for permission to be close to you again. But when you melted against him, your hands fisting his shirt to pull him closer.

“I'm never letting my insecurities make you worried again,” Suho murmured against your lips. “You're too important to me.”

“Good,” you breathed, trailing kisses along his jaw. “Because I was starting to go crazy without my boyfriend giving me proper attention.”

Suho pulled back slightly, a familiar spark coming to his eyes. “Proper attention? Are you saying I've been neglecting you?”

The playful tone in his voice made your stomach flutter with anticipation. “Very much so,” you said confidently.

“Well,” he said, his voice dropping to that low register that made your pulse quicken, “I guess I have to make it up to you.”

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. The atmosphere in the room shifted into something more heated.

“Suho,” you whispered, your voice already breathless as his lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Hm?” he hummed against your skin, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I need you,” you admitted, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Come here,” he murmured, guiding you to straddle his lap properly. The new position brought you directly against him. You both gasped at the contact.

His hands slipped under your sweater, his palms warm against your skin as he slowly pushed the fabric up and over your head. You weren't wearing anything underneath. Suho's breath caught as he took in the sight of you.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, his hands skimming up your sides to cup your breasts gently. “So perfect.”

You arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “Suho…”

He leaned down to press kisses along your collarbone, his lips warm and soft against your skin. “Let me show you,” he whispered between kisses, “let me show you how sorry I am.”

His mouth traveled lower, pressing gentle kisses to the swell of your breasts before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You gasped at the feeling, your hands tangling in his hair as he showered his attention on your nipples.

“You taste so sweet up here,” he murmured against you, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he moved to give the same attention to the other side. “I could spend hours doing this.”

The thought sent heat coursing through your body, and you tugged gently at his hair to bring his face back up to yours. “I want to feel you,” you whispered against his lips. “In me.”

Suho's eyes darkened at your words, but he didn’t want to go that far just yet. “Can I taste you first?”

“Yes. Please do something.”

He smiled, that soft, loving smile that was reserved just for you, before his lips were on your body again. Gently, he rolled you onto your back, positioning himself above you. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice heavy with desire as his fingers hooked in the waistband of your shorts.

“Yes,” you breathed, lifting your hips to help him slide the shorts down your legs.

He took his time with you, pressing kisses to your exposed skin and his hands caressed your thighs. His hands slid up your thighs, thumbs brushing teasingly close to where you needed him most.

“Suho, please,” You begged.

He groaned at your neediness. One of his hands slipped between your legs, his fingers ghosting over your folds, now slick with your arousal. He stroked you slowly at first, teasing, watching your reactions like they’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “All this for me, even after I was such a dick?”

Your hips buck against his hand in response, and Suho leaned up to kiss your throat, dragging his lips across your skin as his fingers finally pressed more firmly against your clit. When he finally settled between your legs all the way, his eyes found yours.

"I love you," he said simply, before his mouth was on your cunt to show you exactly how much he loved you.

His tongue slid through your folds slowly, like he was trying to savour the way you taste. Suho didn’t stop until he licked up every bit of your arousal and dragged his tongue all the way up your cunt, making your whole body jerk. The moan you let out was loud and desperate.

Suho glanced up at you through his lashes, his lips shiny. He offers you a soft, almost smug little smile.

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he murmured, his voice thick and heavy. “My poor baby, I’m so dumb. I’ve been neglecting you this week huh?”

His words spark a new wave of heat through you. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “Yes. Please. I need your mouth,” you whisper, tears starting to well in your eyes.

Suho groaned and the sound vibrated against you as he licked a long, slow stripe over your clit before wrapping his lips around it again.

Your head fell back against the pillows of the couch as your fingers tangled tighter in his hair. The knot in your stomach became relentless with every lick of his tongue.

“Suho. I'm gonna cum if you don’t stop.” your voice broke into a whimper.

He didn’t stop, instead he doubled down and lapped at your cunt faster. His tongue wrapped against your clit while two of his fingers slipped inside you with little resistance. The stretch made you cry out, and he moaned against you, like your pleasure was the only thing he needed to survive.

“Let go for me,” he whispered, fingers thrusting slowly, curling just right as his lips wrapped around your clit once more.

Your body shook as your orgasm hit and a sob of his name left your lips. Your thighs tightened around his head and you tried to push his head away, but you were too weak and Suho kept going, lapping as much cum up as he could.

“Suho, please! Too sensitive.” You pleaded.

Suho pulled off you with a pop, and gave your clit a soft kiss before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He kissed up your body until he was hovering over you, his eyes full with lust.

“You okay?” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You nodded shakily against his lips, still catching your breath. “Y-Yeah.. I’m more than okay. I think I just had the best orgasm of my life.”

Suho chuckled softly, brushing his nose against yours. “You’re so perfect.” he whispered.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing the weight of him against you. You could feel how hard he was, his length was throbbing against your thigh, and when you shifted, he let out a moan.

“Please, Suho. I want you inside me.”

Suho licked his lips and pulled back to take off his remaining clothes. When he pushed his pants and boxers down, his cock sprang free, thick and hard.

You sucked in a breath at the sight of him, and his mouth twitched into a smirk as he leaned back over you, catching your lips in a slow, heated kiss.

He reached between your bodies and guided himself to your entrance. He pushed in slowly and carefully, giving you time to adjust to his size. The stretch burned in the best way, your walls clenched around him as he filled you inch by inch until he was fully inside you.

“Fuck,” Suho whispered, his voice trembling. “You’re so warm. So tight.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, making sure he had no room to pull out. “Move, please,” you breathed.

Suho drew back slightly, then rolled his hips forward again, slow and deep, making sure you feel every inch of him. His pace was unhurried but intense, each thrust drew moans from your lips as he rocked into you. His eyes never left your face, watching every flicker of pleasure cross your expression.

“Faster,” you whispered, your voice trembling as your nails dug into his shoulders.

Suho nodded then continued, his movements getting faster with every thrust. Your living room echoed with the sound of gasps, whispered names, and the quiet slap of skin on skin.

Your legs tightened around his waist, holding him to you, grounding yourself in the feeling of him. “Suho,” you moaned, fingers sliding into his hair, holding on as he moved faster.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he murmured, his voice rough. “You were made for me. You’re mine. I love you so much.”

Your eyes welled with tears, not from pain or even pleasure, but from the overwhelming love you felt from him. You lifted your hand to hold his jaw, brushing your thumb gently beneath his eye. Suho slowed down with your action.

“You’re the only man I want.” You cried out.

He smiled, a real one, the kind that reached his eyes and softened his tense face. “I know that now,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Suho rocked into you again, slow and deep and your body arched into his. His free hand slid between your bodies and his thumb brushed gently over your clit in slow circles that made your whole body jolt. You moaned softly, your hips rolling to meet his.

“Just like that,” he encouraged, his breath warm against your cheek. “Do that again baby, roll into me.”

You let your hips move again, trying to match his rhythm but it was a little sloppy. Soon, you felt another wave building but this time it was softer and slower. “Suho… Suho,” you whispered, grabbing him tight. “I’m going to cum again…”

He rested his forehead against yours, “Let go for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

His fingers moved faster on your clit, while his cock inside you dragged slow and deep. It was overwhelming for you in the best way. Your body burned in pleasure as you finally came, your whole body shaking.

You cried out his name and your legs trembled around him. Your hands were gripping his arms as your vision blurred. Suho held you close, slowing his movements, kissing your tears away.

You were still coming down when Suho groaned, his pace faltering. “I’m so fucking close,” he choked, burying his face in your neck. “Wanna come inside you.”

Your hips tilted up sloppily without thinking. “Do it,” you whispered, breathless.

Suho cursed under his breath and snapped his hips harder, deeper, his rhythm growing even more frantic and desperate. “Fuck. You’ll look so fucking pretty stuffed with my cum,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Want you to fill me up. Wanna feel all of you.” You begged.

That broke him and with a choked moan, he came, his hips pressed flush against yours as his cock twitched inside you.

You gasp and you felt his release inside of you. Your legs tightened around him automatically for the 100th time today, like your body was trying to keep every drop in.

Suho was out of breath above you, panting against your neck and quietly saying your name over and over.

“Fuck, you’re everything to me,” he whispered as he slowly pulled out of you, drawing a soft moan of out the both of you.

When the room fell into a peaceful quiet, Suho stood up then gently helped you up from the coach, guiding you to the bathroom. “Let’s take a bath.”

Suho ran the water while you sat on the bathroom counter, watching him with sleepy, content eyes. When the tub was finally full, Suho carefully helped you into it alongside himself.

“Is the temperature okay?” he asked softly, settling behind you so you could lean back against his chest.

You hummed in approval, letting your head fall back against his shoulder.

His arms wrapped around you from behind, and you could feel the tension finally leaving both of your bodies.

“I really am sorry for how I’ve been acting. For this whole week I mean. For shutting you out instead of just talking to you,” Suho apologized.

“I’ll really accept your apology if you make sure to skip all your training sessions with Sieun next week and cuddle me instead,” you said.

“Deal.” Suho said smiling.

It got quiet again before you asked the questioned that was nipping at you a little bit, “How do you want me to deal with Mingyu?”

Suho was quiet for a moment, considering “I don’t want you to do anything,” he finally said, “He's your friend, and I trust you. I'm sorry I let my insecurities get in the way of that.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, wanting to make sure he was really okay.

“I'm sure,” he said, pressing another kiss to your head. “Besides, I realized something tonight.”

“What?”

“He might be smart and perfect and all that,” Suho said, his voice getting playful, "but he's not the one who gets to fuck you.”

You gasped and playfully hit his chest. “Suho!”

-

Done! My 2nd fic of whc! Thank you guys so much for reading 🥹 Thanks for all the love on my sieun fic as well!

I’d love for more people to rec any writing and request! I also write for the groups who are listed on my masterlist!

[lostintransist]

The Second Duchess

Y'all, Noona's brain worms got me again. AO3 | This will be two parts. | This will end bitter. A/B/O dynamics, vaguely victorian, there will be an actual ghost in part two, odd power dynamics.

When John found you, a foreign lady, visiting a neighboring earl, he thought he had found redemption.

His first wife had been designationless, like you. He and his pack, Johnny, Simon, and Kyle, had ill-treated the first duchess. Her final words, left in an open letter, lingered over them all, even now.

You were supposed to be better. Every tale of you spoke of your bravery, your dedication, your loyalty. I found them all to be lies. When my corpse haunts your memories, may you think on it with more fondness than you ever did me.

The people who claimed the right of parentage over you had sent you to a foreign court in the hopes that someone would take pity on you. Foolish attempt really. No one at home wanted you; no one here would either.

All your life you had been discarded. Set aside for your lack of designation, you learned to cope. The scarred skin at your neck where your gland had failed to grow in the womb became your favorite place to decorate. If not with necklaces, then with art. You had learned how to paint on your body and create wreaths that wound round your neck; you set new standards because you could not do much else. If people were going to stare, why not give them something to look at?

Running wild became your favorite way to use your lack of designation. You could ride a horse side saddle or sitting forward like a man. You could ride better than most men in either seat. The stable hands at home got used to a horse disappearing for a few hours. You always stabled the horses you used, fed them, and brushed them. They stopped complaining after they saw how well you cared for the animals.

You hired art teachers and painted nude bodies. Music teachers taught you how to listen to the lewd songs sung in the taverns and play them at dinner parties. Languages were mastered; the curses were the things you memorized first. The cooks blustered when you demanded to be taught, but when you threatened to hire someone to teach you they quickly gave in.

The maids taught you on the sly the cant and candor of the working class. When they told you of the needs in the community you worked directly with the women who headed each group in need. Connections were gathered like coins in a purse and guarded like a hen over her chicks.

Without quite knowing how you became a woman of influence. A whisper or a word in the right ear and you could turn the tide on harmful policies. If you declared a business untenable for their use of child labor or the way they treated their workers the working class would not patronize them again.

That same level of leverage never breached the bubble of the aristocracy; hence, how you found yourself shipped away to start again.

The weeks warning your mother had given you had been enough for any in your contact to fire off letters to kin and foe alike of your coming. Even letters to foes told of your abilities to conquer changes.

Dock workers had a penchant for overindulging in your country. Men overindulging left women and children bereft of comfort and stability. You had been working at the underpinnings of fact before you had been shipped off.

No one noticed where you wandered, even here in this new country. No one cared. Just this morning you had sat down with the head of the laundress of the city to see what pieces you could shift. Their letter had arrived first, and tending to their needs would become your first priority. They needed childcare.

Children often needed tending and older children needed to be taught reading, writing, and arithmetic. An aging governess or two could be convinced to play school teachers and a maid without a reference could become a tender. Most of the legwork would arise from connecting with the women who would care for and teach the children. The juxtaposing issue would be where to house them and the children during the day. The price per child needed to be reasonable to the laundress and enticing to the governesses and the maid.

Censure, while a familiar disrespect, never became easier to bear. It bit at your flesh like the slap of hands. You had been relegated to the piano in the corner of the room while the other women partook in after-dinner sherry.

You hated sherry. You hated all alcohol really but sherry most of all. It tastes of lies and disappointment in its syrupy sweetness. Shuttering those memories, you focused on playing through a key change and into a jaunty tune; lewd would be a more accurate word, for the song you had learned down at the docks.

All these thoughts swirled through your head as your fingers played without you. Being so deep in thought you failed to notice the men had rejoined the party.

The knuckles rapping the top of the piano before your eyes brought you back to your body. Your motions paused the last notes you played lingering in the air. It is doubtful anyone was listening to you anyway.

A broad man leaned against the piano. His hair was cut short and sprinkled with gray. A neatly maintained beard, sun-kissed wrinkles around his eyes, as well as the fine cut of his coat completed the look of a lord. Being unfamiliar with this county’s aristocracy you offered a demure smile.

“Can I help you, my lord?”

“Where did a thing like you learn a tune like that?” His voice is rich and cadence firm.

“It is astounding the things musicians will teach you for the right incentive.” Settling your hands back to the keys you began to play a medley of your favorite drinking songs.

“Why do you not hide it?” His voice is as a surprise as it is unexpected.

Decorum meant different things here. Like it being acceptable to ask about one’s secondary gender.

“Why would I hide something I am not ashamed of, my lord? I am not causing harm to others by existing,” you lift a brow as you glance at him quickly.

He stared at the paint ringing your neck. The style of dresses here, that your great aunt had draped you in despite your protests, involved low necklines and off-the-shoulder sleeves. The corset cinched around you held up the dress. You had painted flowers and vines. Now, if anyone stared overlong you could assume they were observing your skill with a brush and not the scar where your scent gland should be.

Transitioning into a light, airy tune that has been well accepted by “higher” society you stole glances at the lord. You had yet to be introduced, but his dismissal of decorum intrigued you. Not many men approached you for a chat, even less without being introduced as an oddity first.

“Would you take a turn around the room with me?”

And there went your interest. Like with anyone who did not conform to society’s standards, you were propositioned every so often. Pursing your lips, you don’t look at him again.

“If you can gain an introduction before I depart for the night, I will consider it.” Focusing back on your fingers you played around a key change into a moving piece.

This bit of music sounded a bit like weeping when you played it.

He would not find your aunt anywhere near this room. She had consumed a fair amount of dairy in the soup course and would be leaving rancid deposits for the maids to clean in the morning. Once she felt well enough to travel she would send someone to collect you to the carriage. No one else here could claim acquaintance to the point of introductions.

As you predicted the lord could be seen drifting from person to person questioning and pointing toward you where you played still. All shook their heads and peered around for your aunt. Nearing forty minutes later a maid approached you, hands clasped neatly in front of her white frock.

“Ma’am, your aunt awaits you in the carriage,” her voice is mouse quiet even as her eyes dart to and for.

“Thank you for telling me. Can you inform the butler I will need my things?”

The notes lingered before dying, suffocated under the volume of conversation. The lord noticed though. As you slipped around seats and finally into the front hall, he followed. The aged butler held out your shawl, gloves, and hat.

One glove on and buttoned at the wrist you started on the other one when he appeared. The lord gave a near-silent dismissal to the butler. When you turned you found your hat and shawl held hostage.

“My things, my lord,” your hand extended for your things.

“While I was not able to obtain a formal introduction, I wanted to introduce myself. Duke John Price, at your service.”

Plucking your bonnet from his hand, you hum. Duke Price glared at you as tied it in place.

“How wonderful I avoided the misfortune of being introduced to a duke then being as lowly as I am, hmm?” You glanced at his face.

His sun-kissed wrinkles are now plucked with frustration.

“Will you be returning my shawl or shall I brave the night with bare shoulders, Duke Price?”

You let the title remind him of his place in the scheme of life.

The blue of his eyes reminded you of the center of a flame, scorching in its heat. You saw the decision in the tilt of his head. Standing stiller than the statues you saw dotting this land, you did not fight when he settled the shawl around your shoulders.

“Travel safe. I look forward to our upcoming introduction,” Duke Price held to the end of the shawl as you stepped back.

“Must not have much to look forward to in this country,” you let derision drip from your tone.

One more step back and you are free. A hand behind your back finds the doorknob and you are out. Now the footmen are looking to the door as you descend the stairs.

“What kept you?” Your great aunt’s voice bites from the dark of the carriage.

“It took some time for the butler to gather my things,” you lie. Climbing in and sitting forward on the bench to peer out the door window, Duke Price watches you from the door.

Sliding back the darkness hides you from view.

John fired off a letter before the sun had risen. I have found her. I will return when wed.

It took weeks before he secured your acquaintance. He tried though, gods, the way he tried. You would have laughed if he didn’t disrupt so many damn meetings.

A local Chaplin had agreed to offer room and board to the two governesses and the two maids who would be watching and teaching the children. A different church, whose Bishop agreed, would serve as the care space and classroom. The two churches would have no fees, but negotiating the prices that would remain fair for the laundresses and the women caring for the children became the sticking point.

The women all raised their voices. It was as if they could shout a little louder than their neighbor they might be clearly heard. In times like these, you were grateful for your nose blindness. Someone had once explained that the overlapping scents of anger reminded them of a barn fire, acrid and dense.

You finished finalizing the numbers on your page before standing. Snatching up your mini abacus, because math in your head forever alluded you, you placed it in a pocket of your skirt. Both hands lifted your skirt. Once your feet could move freely, you stepped onto the chair and then onto the long table where the discussion had devolved.

Both boots planted firmly you released your skirt and shoved fingers in your mouth to whistle. The piercing sound cut through all of the noise. All of the women sat down and glowered at each other, and you.

Movement at the door of the room tipped your annoyance into rage. Duke Price stood in the doorway. This was the fourth meeting he had appeared in.

“The Duke of Price has two seconds to be gone from this room or he will be funding this project for a year.”

Your pointed glare and sharp words caused all the women at the table to turn and do the same. These were proud women. They would not accept charity, and the offer of it would be seen as offensive. The duke narrowed his eyes and stepped back into the shadows.

“Close the door, my lord. If you are incapable of such a feat one of these lovely women would be happy to assist.”

The iron lock clicking into place turned all eyes back to you. Pinching your fingers to the bridge of your nose you shut your eyes and took a deep breath.

“Here is the pricing that accommodates everyone. The women handling the children will not need to cover room and board, which will reduce their incoming monies. In turn, that reduces the burden per child for the laundresses. Now, you must decide among yourselves,” you open your eyes and scan the laundresses now, “If you wish to pay a per child fee or a flat fee. Tally your votes and inform me of your decision. This scheme will begin on the first.”

The women who handled the dirty laundry for the city nodded and rose. They spoke among themselves as they exited the room.

The older governess, Brenton, if you recall correctly spoke up now. Her white hair gleamed under her dowdy cap.

“Who will be supplying the learning materials? The pay for watching the children will not cover that.”

You climbed down as you thought over how to obtain the needed materials.

“There is an irksome lord that I will make pay for the displeasure of my constant annoyance.”

All four women shared a look. They had worked under several lords and ladies and knew this would be a formidable task.

“Well,” Miss Brenton clapped her hands twice, “We will leave you to your trial ma’am. If we can be of any assistance before our work begins, please reach out.”

“Thank you. I know this is going to be an odd period of transition for all of us.” Settling at the head of the table as the other stood, you gestured to the door. “Miss Brenton, if you don’t mind, could you play chaperone for a moment?”

“Must say, I am interested to see how this plays out.” Tucking her skirt back down Miss Brenton sat back down.

Pulling out a clean sheet you began to note down the needed items, chalk and chalkboards, readers, nappies, blankets, cribs, the list went on. The click of heavy-soled shoes stopped at your side. Paying it no mind, you continued. A second sheet joined the first, transferring a list of vendors that would help funnel money to the bottom where it was most needed. Some were spouses of the laundress, others were brothers, fathers, or uncles. All were low class and would provide solid work.

A total of three sheets filled you ensured each was dry before stacking them. Folding them into neat thirds, you turned and handed them to Lord Price.

“You are a difficult woman to make an acquaintance of,” he took the papers held in proffer. “What is this?”

“The bill.” Standing, you let the chair legs scrape against the floor. “Miss Brenton, can I interest you in having company on your walk home?”

The shrewd woman looked near apoplectic at your handling of a duke.

“This is a lengthy bill.”

If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn there was a hint of a smile in his voice.

Lord Price’s eyes were upon you when you finally let your head finish turning. No smile graced his lips. Shame. For all he had made your last few weeks as painful as a throne in the thumb, he was nice to look at.

He wore a blue today. His eyes shone with the gold stitching on his jacket and vest.

“It has been extraordinary lengths you have gone to bother me; this seemed a fair request.”

Neither gaze shifts when Miss Brenton choked on air.

“Consider it done,” Duke Price tucked the list into his inner coat pocket. “May I join you ladies on your journey?”

“Of cour—”

You cut Miss Brenton off with a hand and a sharp look. Turning that sharp look on the lord, you speak your piece.

“No. I do not know what your intentions are with me, and frankly, I am tired of finding you amidst my business. The only men who pursue me do so for my,” you gesture to your scarred neck, “eccentricities.”

A string attached to your stomach could not have pulled tighter than if it were looped to a kite. This conversation made you wish you could skitter into a hole, a church mouse hiding from god. This would be the sixth time you had told a man no.

The duke huffed a laugh.

“I have enough eccentricities roaming my home. What I seek is a chance to see if we would get on well.”

His blue eyes left heated trails as they worked across your face. Goose flesh rose on your arms. Chest and further down where you dare not think of the flesh continued to rise. Every bit of you reacted.

“Why?” The question is breathy, haunted with questions.

Duke John Price held the sword of Damocles at your neck. The blade yearned for a taste.

You spent your days in the shadows. Confronting men who could take what they wanted was the only time you thought you knew what it was like to be whole. Acid bullied the back of your nose.

“I am in need of a wife. Someone who has the skills to manage others.”

He is not done. You don’t care.

“Choose any of your fashionably young countrywomen then.” Ripping your eyes from him, you stack your papers and close your ink well for travel. “There is a full troop of them yet unwed who would kill for the chance to lay in a duke’s bed. They have all been trained to manage households.”

The string in your body is cut. A tangle now lives in your chest.

“Miss Brenton, was it?”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“Can you give us the room for a moment?” The kind command would take more fortitude than the aged governess possessed.

A beseeching look to the matronly woman did not save you. Her wrinkles quivered as she slowly stood.

“I can give you three minutes m’lord.”

He inclined his head as if accepting a toast from a royal.

As the door swung shut you formed a plan. Stepping to the opposite side of the table, for distance and a barrier, failed. The toe of your boot caught the leg of the table. Papers fluttered from your hands as your knees cracked against the stone floor. Duke Price was there in an instant. He lifted each paper, laying it neatly in a stack.

Tears pricked at your eyes. You hadn’t moved from your fallen position. Head hanging to your chest you held back from weeping by the breadth of a string.

“Why will you not leave me be?” The words are harsh, strangled by the tightness in your throat.

“When hunting foxes, one strategy to attempt is sending them to ground. Where do they hide when they can no longer run?” His demeanor was cool, his voice soothing. “You run in circles, managing to better every bird, twig, and rock you brush against in your escape.”

Sniffing, you set about finding a handkerchief to wipe your face; you refused to face the laundress’ if they knew you used your skirts as rags.

A blue handkerchief in a gloved hand drifted below your nose. Lifting it, careful to not touch even his glove, you dab your nose.

Somehow you had managed to drip ink into the crease where your nail becomes flesh. Gloves hurt your hands after a time. You had managed to work around wearing them. No one noticed. No one ever noticed. And if they did they didn’t care to police a grown woman who had no prospects.

“I have a pack, they are wonderful and I would burn the world for them. I need a wife who can see. I am looking for someone who notices the needs overlooked, connects with those unheard, and sends war captains on impossible journeys. If you had allowed an acquaintance between us weeks ago, I could have courted you slowly.”

Duke Price holds out your papers. They crinkle in your delicate grip as you press them to your breast.

“I do not believe you.”

His cloth pressed to your nose cannot prevent all the vile feelings filling up your bones from injecting themselves into the words.

No one wanted you. Even the one who had lied in word and deed to make you believe he did.

Brokenness allowed you to see because you could not smell; that did not make you valuable.

“And what would make you believe me?” He curls nearly in half to peer up at you.

A duke is on his knees, craning his need to get a look at you. What the hell had this world turned into?

Sniffing again, you straighten. Plans. You can make plans.

“A contract. Legally binding even in marriage. Make it two. One to court me and become engaged and the second retaining my rights to leave this country unhindered, if I so desire, if marriage were to come to pass.” You study him now. The wheels are turning in his mind.

“And what of the consequences of reneging on either contract?” A single brow is lifted in your direction.

“I imagine your solicitor has worked with you a long time, my lord. If he does not think of something suitable, I would be happy to revise and return it for review,” you lift a brow in response.

Games were easier. The rules never changed. Once understood, you could slide below notice and return to living life and helping where you could.

The man before you lifted both cheeks into a full smile. Your heart dropped into your heels still below your butt. He had a beautiful smile.

“They will be at your door for review before the week is out.”

“You have not yet gained an acquaintance, my lord, it might be rejected at the door,” you gave him a saucy wink and a watery laugh.

“I think a contract will be introduction enough.”

He held out a hand. You shook it, grip firm. Twice it bobbed before he turned your hand over and laid a kiss on your knuckles.

Catching sight of your lifted brow from his position he threw you off balance, again.

You had been to sea. Once only, were you out during a storm.

Then you had clung to the railing until a man in a slicker had slid a rope around your waist and helped haul you below deck. That wild energy that had commanded you to land came now. This time though? You longed to dive below the waves. If only to see if the storm could touch the seabed below.

Solicitor Allchin sat stiffly in the sitting room of your great aunt’s home. He wore black as if born to it, hair flounced the appropriate amount to show he would be fastidious and dogged in a task.

Your nails, trimmed short, bite into the fabric coating the arms of the wing-back chair. The crazy fool had actually done it. Two contracts lay strewn on the tea table before you. Unable to continue to read, they had been thrown down.

“Allchin?”

The man startled at being addressed. He had been taking surreptitiously deep breaths. If anyone believed you to be afflicted with no scent gland upon meeting you would call them a liar.

“Yes ma’am?”

“What is your opinion of Duke Price?”

You refused to call him John. It felt like ceding ground in a war you didn’t intend to entrench in.

“He is a fair man, mostly. Cares well for those that he considers his, discards those he doesn’t.” Allchin spoke firmly. Confident in his honesty.

“Thank you. That will be all. I will return these with any adjustments within three business days.” Standing would be beyond your power. If you rose the only thing you would manage is the three steps to vomit in an oriental vase.

“Ma’am,” Allchin rose, tugging his coat neatly into place. “If I may? I have a question.”

“You may not.”

Rage fluttered in your chest with hummingbird wings; it stung your eyes, water filling them.

Allchin nodded once and saw himself out. Lifting the paperwork, you read what you could. He had tilted everything in your favor. If you agreed to an engagement you could keep it quiet until the bans were read. Either party could break the engagement and you would receive a settlement for cover “pain and suffering.” You would retain full autonomy and legal status as a person in the event of a marriage. Property bought or sold in your name would remain yours.

Working itself out seemed to be working in Lord Price’s favor.

Someone, and if you ever found them you might actually hurl them down the stairs, had told your great aunt about the visit and the paperwork.

“What is this I hear about an offer?”

The testy old woman had called you to her office like a child. She opened and shut a fan in one hand. Open. Shut. Open. Shut.

Blinking slowly, you release a breath.

“I did not think you could hear at all anymore, Aunt.”

Slam. The fan cracked against the edge of her desk.

“Do not test me, child! Have you had an offer?” Her frail voice betrays none of her age as she shouts.

Disdain drips from your canines like blood from a throat you clenched between your teeth.

“I lost my childhood to bigotry and hate. I will not lose my adulthood to it as well. Any business between myself and any man who might make an offer is none of your damn business. Only those who care about my welfare are welcome to that knowledge.” The temperature in the room changed, flashing cool before heating up with a rage you knew waited to boil over.

Turning on a heel, you stride from the room.

Any calls from your aunt fall on deaf ears. You lock yourself in your room and squirrel away the paperwork. Not well enough.

One of the maids must have found them. Word reached you as you were fitted for a wedding gown that your aunt had offered a hefty reward for the person who could pry the information from you. You thank the young woman pinning the skirt and ask after her children. She smiles as she tells you of her daughters and their clumsy attempts at stitches.

Masterlist | Part 2

[withbroombefore]

I saw a poll earlier about participation in regular in-person activities, with numbers that make me wonder if a lot of people don't know what the options are or how to find them. Here are some that I have always found welcoming to new people; for me, these are ways to leave my apartment and get some human interaction without having to make much conversation (there is a reasonable amount of that if you want it, but since it's understood that you are there to do an activity, the thing you are doing is the point rather than pure socializing). A search for "[activity] [location]" should tell you what's available in your area.

Contra dancing: This goes at the top and gets explanation because it's my favorite. I grew up doing this and love it very very much; I always look for local dances when I move somewhere new. Most dances are very beginner-friendly (though there are some exceptions), and zero dance experience is required to participate. Many will include a lesson for beginners in the half-hour before the main event starts, and there are always instructions throughout the evening. You truly do not need to know anything going in. The convention is to switch partners throughout the night, and it's completely okay to attend alone and ask people you don't know to dance. Try Contra Dancing has a search tool by zip code. Typically $8-15.

Community theatre tech: Acting is an option if that's your thing, but in my experience, tech is easier if you're looking for an activity because there's not usually competition--you often can just volunteer without needing to worry about auditions or casting. Roles like run crew (where you move set between scenes and such) don't require any prior knowledge, and plenty of the other tasks can be learned with a little training. If you turn up reliably, the word will spread--good techies are invaluable. Free to participate.

Community band or chorus: Prior experience in playing an instrument is necessary for the band; for singing, it depends on the type of chorus. Some are auditioned, others are just thrilled by any participation. May require dues.

Shapenote singing: A more niche one and another of my personal favorites (I ignore the religious lyrics and treat them as poetry). This can take some time to pick up, but many places have a small monthly sing that is very welcoming to new people. fasola.org has lots of information about the tradition and where to sing. Free, optional donations accepted.

Library events: Find your local public library's website and look for a calendar or events page to see if anything appeals. Typically free.

Crafting groups: Yarn stores and other craft supply places often have regular open gatherings (typically free) and/or classes (may cost money for teaching and supplies).

Games: If you have a local game store, check their website for events. Or search "[location] [chess club]" or whatever is your thing. Usually free.

Dance: Depends on what is available in your area. A studio where I am has a monthly swing dance, with beginner lessons before, for $10.

Sports: I don't really do these but they presumably exist and can be found like the other things.

The important thing is to just go do the thing. It will probably feel awkward the first time--that's normal! These are all spaces where the point is for people to show up and participate. They want you to be there, and they want you to come back! Otherwise they can't keep existing. Several of these (contra dancing, shapenote, a lot of crafting groups) are especially excited about new people and younger participants and will be thrilled to teach you how to do the thing. And the only way to make it feel comfortable is to plow through the first awkwardness and go back until you decide if you actually enjoy it or not. When you find a thing you like, keep going, and after a little while you end up with a community of people to see regularly who share your interests. This is what humans are supposed to do.

[mesetacadre]

what are your thoughts on the importance of theory to being a militant communist or activist vs things like survival skills (?) ? incredibly broad generalizations but it seems like stuff like that is shared around/emphasized more in anarchist circles. are there any non theory topics that you think is pertinent for burgeoning communists to learn? like, if youre serious about organizing you should learn first aid or this and that. very sorry if this is incoherent, english is a pain @~@

Well, survival skills for what? survival where? if you're in the imperial core, communist praxis does not look like grabbing a rifle and heading to the nearest mountains in a 5 person cell. And for what reason? First aid is useful, of course, for in the daily activity of a militant you can encounter situations that can cause physical harm, whether it's the police or trespassing. You need to ask yourself these questions and you need to realize that if you're organized in a party, you're not simply an individual in a group of other individuals like anarchists believe, you're part of the collective class effort to achieve the short and long term goals that are in our interests as a class. Survival skills are only useful it your activity in the framework of your collective, class objectives call for acting in an environment where that's necessary. Similarly, first aid is most useful when it's part of the strategy of your organization, though I would consider it useful to know regardless.

And most importantly, you can only properly figure out if you need these supplementary skills if you have a developed praxis. Praxis is not just the fancy marxist word for practice, here I'm referring to the actual meaning of praxis, which is the dialectical synthesis of theory and practice, facing their contradictions and arriving at a new conception of your work that integrates both elements. It is not a sum, synthesis is a transformative process that arrives at something new, which may or may not share component parts with the previous elements. Praxis, what cyclically informs and corrects itself through that constant dialectical synthesis is what will allow you, as an organized communist first and foremost, to take decisions as to what skills x amount of people in the organization need to learn. Theory, just like practice, is required for that.

Theory is not a dead thing, it's not the old books and the texts themselves. When you read theory you don't do it to think "wow these people 120 years ago were so smart I need to to exactly like them", you do it to learn how they went about anylizing their concrete reality, and how that allowed or disallowed their success. For example, Lenin in What is to be Done talks about how important the newspaper is to bring the party's full fledged analysis of the questions of the time to a lot of workers efficiently. This is 1905 Russia, in which modes of communication was the printed word and if you're lucky having an educated cadre or two in the territory who understand the positions or can come to their own, and communicate them correctly.

The reason trotskyists still to this day put so much emphasis on the newspaper, at least like I've always seen justified, is because they take this passage and apply it acritically to modern concrete conditions. Newspapers are not inherently the best way to communicate revolutionary positions, but instead of using that theory to better understand their tasks and come to a good concrete conclusion for their concrete reality, they read the book and do what the book says. Beyond a historiographical interest, who cares what Lenin said bolsheviks should use to deliver their message! what's interesting is learning how the bolshevik party, the first successful revolutionary marxist party, came to their conclusions and took the decisions that allowed them to have that victory. This is the value theory has, it's a necessary component part of praxis, the dialectical synthesis of practice and theory, which is the base of everything communists en pos de their political goals.

About what I think people should learn, I don't think there's a good general answer. there are many types of work to be done, and in non-extraordinary cases you, as a new member, will encounter those necessities gradually, to the point I don't really see the necessity of telling people to pre-emptively learn anything. If you can do it, no matter how little you've read or how shy or how unprepared you feel, get organized. Most of the questions you have about what organizing requires have answers and the only people that hold those are the people you'll organize with.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

I feel like advice on loneliness comes in only three flavors:

"It's all mindset, learn to embrace being alone and you'll never feel lonely!"

"Your head is lying to you, you have friends and they love you!"

"Here's a list of places you can go to hang out with people and make new friends!"

Those are usually well-meant and I'm sure there are situations where they do help someone feel better - but they're definitely not universally applicable.

The first one is even plain wrong: connection is a basic human need. You can't just "change your mindset" and turn that off, the same way you can't turn off your need for food or air or mental stimulation. Humans are group animals. We absolutely need social interactions to stay healthy and sane. It is true that some people do not need a large number of friends and are happiest with just one or two close friends, and it is also true that some people prefer to fulfill their social needs in other ways than what's traditionally defined as friendship - but that's not something you can (or should) try to train yourself to do, that's just natural differences and preferences!

The only thing you could "train" yourself to do would be to learn to ignore your social needs and bury them deep down under layers of denial... and you don't need me to explain to you why that's a very unhealthy idea. It's sad enough that so many people have to do that to not lose their minds in loneliness, we certainly don't need to celebrate an unhealthy coping skill as a "superior mindset".

The other two at least get a bit closer to the truth: the solution for your unmet need is not to kill the need, but to fulfill it... but that's easier said than done, isn't it?

After all, "Don't worry, your friends love you!" doesn't help if you have no friends. Loneliness is not always "all in your head": Maybe you moved to a new place and don't know anyone there. Or you cut off contact with all your friends after a big fight. Or you grew up neurodivergent (or got mentally ill at a young age) and had no chance to learn how to make friends at the age most kids do, and by now you have been friendless for so long you don't even know where to start.

Same with "just go to a bar and talk to some new people" or "Take a pottery class and you'll meet some interesting people there" - that's not factually wrong, but also not helpful if the reason you feel lonely is that you struggle to make friends (or even struggle to just talk to people). Which can also be part of neurodivergence or mental illness, or just be a part of your personality (shyness), or be a result of isolating circumstances (like having spent a lot of time in a closed environment, for example a long hospital stay, and now feeling unsure how to connect with people outside of that environment). 

And those are just a few of the many, many possible explanations why someone may be lonely that require a more individualized approach - which is why we can’t solve loneliness with any one-size-fits-all solution.

That may be a somewhat disappointing-sounding conclusion in a letter on loneliness, so let me also tell you: hope and support are always within reach, even if it might take some time and patience to find them. The key is to remember that your feelings are valid and that you're not alone in your struggle.

First, recognize that admitting that you feel lonely, and wanting to take action based on that feeling, is a sign of strength, not weakness. You’re pretty insightful for recognizing your loneliness and super brave for wanting to reach out!

Secondly, be kind to yourself and allow yourself to take small steps. Small, actually manageable steps are crucial in any healing journey! If it’s not an option to just go to the bar or that pottery class, then it’s okay to start somewhere else. Maybe a therapist, a support group, or even online communities can be valuable “training sessions” for social connections. Even reaching out to one single person can make a significant difference over time. Your journey to finding companionship and connection might be different from someone else’s, but that doesn't make it any less valid (or achievable!).

Lastly, do consider embracing new activities that you may enjoy - but not just for the sake of meeting others. It’s important to nurture your own happiness and well-being when you’re feeling lonely. Those can be activities you can try out alone and even at home, for now! Anything that enriches your life is good. Long down the road, maybe it will lead to opportunities to connect with others, but even if it doesn’t: it’s important to incorporate new experiences into your life.

While there isn't a universal solution to loneliness, I truly believe there is a path forward for everyone. It's all about finding what works for you.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Thank you for being so open to answering people's questions and just generally willing to give advice to younger trans people. It reassures me to hear that you didn't really have your life together at 30 because I turn 30 this year and I don't either lmao. It's nice to be reminded I can still make a full and interesting life for myself but recent circumstances really have me down. What advice do you have for someone who feels like they don't really have the emotional support they need but is also dogshit awful at making new friends? I'm trying to find a therapist but the going is rough and I haven't found one I really feel comfortable with yet.

Oh god, yeah, I was a total mess at 30. But it's the age when I really started trying to make new friends as an adult, instead of just hanging out with old childhood pals. (Cosplay was a huge catalyst for me, and I was around 30 when I went to my first convention to meet up with a TF2 group for photos.)

It's possible to get better at making friends. Which includes figuring out what type of people would be good matches for you. (No surprise I learned I prefer the company of autistic, queer people.)

Your first steps should be to feel comfortable around other humans, and then see how friendships could evolve from there.

Some options:

Local gaming/sports/exercise group

Outdoor group, like hiking, city walks, birdwatching

A crafting or other type of class that is multiple sessions

A performing group, like ren faire cast, community band or theater

Volunteering, from lgbtq+ stuff to local park and waterways cleanup

Any other special interest that meets in person semi-regularly - since moving across the country, I keep an eye on Facebook events to see what looks promising

All of these have a primary goal (whatever the Thing) is and a secondary goal of making friends, or at least learning how to be friendly with different types of people. And if you are an introvert, you always have thing main Thing to fall back on.

And if any of those options feel overwhelming, start smaller with just being *around* people regularly. Go for a walk on a busy trail. Go to museums, farmer's markets, local festivals and tours, large and small.

I hope this helps. I understand the struggle - for as open as I am online, I can be incredibly shy in person, and have had to work hard on feeling comfortable around people IRL.

Good luck!

[sun-flower-children]

Academic Rivals! Viktor x Reader

Academy Student!Viktor x gn!Reader

Here's my take on this idea that has been rumbling around my brain especially with all the new viktor fics ( yall are doing the lords work)

not proof read + a lot longer than I thought it would be, sorry lmao

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

You were the Academy's top student known to be the top of the class with the highest scores always exceeding expectations.

Your creative thinking and problem solving is what normally got you the spotlight of attention within academia.

Naturally after spending your first two years of the Academy eating up the attention and receiving offers from multiple elite members of society, industry and government certainly made your resume/reputation an intimidating one.

Your peers knew you to be competitive and ambitious wanting to be the one to set the curve; extensive research projects, etc.

This did however make you a poor teammate with your passionate ideas that one of them could dream of keeping up with you. Plus you would steal the leadership role from them to implement the changes you'd want.

You had gotten used to pattern created for you with a bright future ahead.

Even if you were getting kind of bored of knowing that your worst idea would still allow you to keep your rank.

Then all the sudden a new student joins the Academy

It didn't bother you much until you started seeing a drop in your scores and ranking thus creating a rivalry with this mysterious student.

It was not until you and Viktor shared a class that you realized who your academic opponent was

Thus starting a new chapter of your academic career with renewed passion upon knowing there was finally someone that could equal you in skill.

Fighting for everything within the academic realm that was available

Now neither of you had ever officially been introduced or carried a proper conversation instead replacing regular communication with pointed looks of smugness or confidence.

You would have angry fits in private realizing the margin that you had lost to Viktor

Long days and nights spent gaining a potential advantage over your rival.

Your friends would point out how you would almost pop a vein just describing the way that he would "usurp the first place on an exam all because of a technicality"

Honestly when you would get really into it you were sure that you hated this guy: coming out of nowhere with no prior history and just takes over everything you have worked hard to establish.

Who does he think he is????

Now all your professors, namely Himerdinger paid close attention to this rivalry. It's entertaining watching your top 2 students hash it out and creating things they would not have without this push.

Himerdinger seeing how honed in your other skills were decided to create a project for the class specifically targeting you both.

A partnered project

One that could not change neither the topic, the partner or the day that it was to be presented; everything set in stone.

" Learning the skills needed in a lab is one thing but the most important and impactful discoveries have always been those created through teamwork." Himerdinger would share one fateful day as he put up the paper listing the groups.

It did not even cross your mind that you would have been paired with Viktor and after looking at the poster turned around a looked at him.

Viktor was still sitting in his front row seat in the lecture room patiently waiting for the crowd to dissipate before getting up to look at the paper.

He continued to wrap up whatever notes he had taken as you step up to him.

"We are assigned partners for this project." you say very matter a factly.

Viktor looks up to you with a small smile," Well then, we should set up times to work on the project together. What times work best for you?"

You were taken aback by his nonchalance.

Did he really not care that he was partnered with you? Did he not see you as significant enough to mention the obvious tension? Did he not even see you as a rival but a regular student below him???

After a short pause you share what time you are normally at the library.

As you share the details he finished packing up his stuff.

Looking back up to with another slightly bigger smile (what is his game???) " I'll see you then. Tomorrow at table four."

With that he leans on his cane and leaves you in the quiet empty classroom to deliberate your next moves.

That night you started working on the project creating multiple schemes, ideas, and conceptual ideas that could be used for the project put forth.

You went to bed hoping to finally force him to recognize you as the rival that you were as he seemed so dismissive before.

You showed up to the library at the arranged time to see Viktor sitting peacefully at a study table thumbing through multiple volumes seemingly looking for a specific piece of information.

"Good Morning." you started as you walked up to him.

Without even looking up he returns the same early day greeting and places yet another volume aside and opening a new one.

Raising an eyebrow that the attitude you place your things on the other side of the table.

"I was thinking last night about this project and had written down some ideas that I believe that we should pick from as our approach." you open the discussion with no changed behavior from your supposed teammate.

You continue, " I have already taken the liberty to research them, for your convenience, and have supplied preliminary data for each one. Honestly any of these would resolve the problem raised by our projects prompt with their main difference being how creative you wanted to get with it."

Viktor has created yet another pile of abandoned books that didn't meet his mysterious criteria all the while not regarding you properly.

Your felt your self becoming more warmer as you felt the irritation pool into the oil pit of anger you have created surrounding him.

"It's considered polite to respond or at the very least acknowledge when someone is talking to you. Or are you so focused on your book hunt you aren't ever looking at the person you are supposed to be completing this project with."

Viktor sighs putting the book currently in his possession down and looks up to you.

"It was not my intention to be rude I am just looking for a specific volume that has a unique perspective on the concept we learned a week ago but the title is slipping my mind."

Sighing you sit down and observe the collection of books created on the table.

"I'm going to go on a limb here and assume that you only really remember that the color of the book was dark blue?"

Viktor chuckled," Observant and yes I am."

"Well you aren't going to find it in the library considering there is only one copy of it. That author's take was considered almost heretic."

"Ah, so you are familiar with the book I am referencing?"

"It would be strange if I didn't considering that I brought it with me to our meeting. I checked it out a week ago because it piqued my interest and also happened to align with this assignment."

You hold it out over the table as Viktor sighs again running a hand through his hair.

The meeting ended up going on for longer than expected.

You were surprised to find that he has a similar perspective to yours and understood your vision from the multiple proposals that you had created.

Further analysis showed some minor flaws that would otherwise be overlooked by other people; but neither of you too were not going to settle for anything less than perfection.

The more that the two of you poured over ideas, equations, concepts, and plans until you came up with a path that pleased you both with only one variable that needing some testing.

Viktor offered to go his smaller private study that he had already set up a similar experiment (he was also trying ideas out the night before)

Walking side by side down the hallways was a strange feeling.

Not because you were walking slower that your default rushed walking pace but because this person that you had, honestly, really hated and rationalized that was cheating somehow....wasn't.

You hated to admit it as you continued to listen to his rambling on of the missing component that they needed to figure out.

(Shit...he is actually just naturally brilliant)

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

part 1 | part 2 >

[maelstrom007]

@ghouljams the worms are worming. . . I was listening to Depeche Mode today and Personal Jesus reminded me of your cult leader Price AU and it just has a death grip in my brain. . . All I could think of the whole song was Price manspreading in a chair with Ghost, Soap, and Gaz posed around him in dramatic backlighting, doing his biding to keep his cult in check.

Price is obviously cult leader, we get it, we know it, he's so charismatic and clever and manipulative and influential we know we know we know.

Thinking of what the other boys roles would be in this whole thing though. . .

Gaz is definitely the person on the outside clocking discontented people and setting in hooks. Absolutely gorgeous man, charismatic as fuck, endearing and non-threatening (at first glance), such blinding loyalty that he is able to see and interact with the outside world and not be tempted to leave. This simultaneously makes him adjusted enough to 'normal' life that he gives off very little red flags when inviting people in. He's also the person who befriends the new follower and makes sure that they're only seeing what they're supposed to, and vetting if they'd be impressionable enough to add to the flock. Testing their resistance to peer pressure, vetting them and making sure they're impressionable enough.

Soap is the listening ear on the inside. His job is to ingratiate himself amongst the followers and report any findings to Price, both good and bad. So not only is he keeping an eye out for disloyalty, plans to leave, discontent, etc. but he's also looking out for personal things like lost personal possessions, low stakes concerns, anything that Price can use to give individuals 'personal' time with him that makes him seem attentive or even slightly omniscient to the more spiritual followers.

Ghost's job is really to be that of a smoke screen. He is very visibly Price's 'right hand man', outwardly intimidating and such a hard ass on rule following that he acts as a force pushing followers to the sphere of Gaz and Soap. Because they couldn't be that close to Price, right? No one but Ghost is. So surely they're safe talking about their doubts and confusion, as long as Ghost is out of earshot. I feel like he also makes Price more valuable by making him more unobtainable. Unless Price comes to you, you need to seek an audience with him through Ghost. And 99% of the time even if you do get to see Price, Ghost will be there. At least that's what people say anyway. Price definitely isn't telling everyone that he's 'made an exception just for them' and that 'this'll be a secret between the two of them'. Definitely not.

I have this notion that it would be one of those self sufficiency communes that has their own internal ecosystem, growing their own food, making their own clothes, etc etc. They would send the well behaved followers to set up a stall at the nearby towns farmers market to keep up appearances and make sure that nobody in the town really bothers them. Who gives a shit what the group of farmers in the middle of nowhere are doing when their produce costs next to nothing and tastes divine? Maybe they should go out there some time and see what it's like. . .maybe learn how to take care of a plant or two of their own? And you've always wanted to learn how to do pottery, the cute guy on the corner says they're hosting a class this weekend. . . . . . . . . .

[marzipanandminutiae]

would you have any reading suggestions to learn more about the earrings are evil era??? I've never heard of that aspect of fashion history and I am curious

Oh man, it was wild

you saw the first stirrings of it in the 1890s, when you started to get (mostly white and middle-to-upper-class) proto-feminists arguing that ear piercing was barbaric- keep an eye on the racist undertones there; they will come up again-and forcing women to suffer for fashion. I cannot emphasize enough that, until that point, ear piercing had been pretty much normal for this race/class/gender group. For centuries. You see criticism of the practice here and there, but nothing that really stuck.

The objections slowly increased until roughly the mid-1920s, when everything reached a tipping point and pierced ears became largely taboo for most white Americans and Brits of northern/western European descent. If that sounds HIGHLY specific, it is- communities from southern and sometimes eastern Europe retained cultural practices of ear piercing, to the point where it was often used as a point against them by mainstream society. It was also associated with Latino people, Black people, and the Romani, which. Yeah. I don't need to tell you how that went down.

It also developed associations with sexual immorality and/or backwards thinking. One newspaper letter I read came from a teen girl in the 1940s, wondering why she shouldn't pierce her ears if her very respectable grandmother had piercings. The response was something like "well, they did all sorts of things in the Bad Old Days that we shouldn't do now." True in many ways, or course, but...piercing your ears? That's the hill culture decided to die on as far as antiquated behavior that we should leave behind? Apparently yes.

Earrings themselves never went out of style, which led to the birth of clip-ons and screwbacks. Ironic that the "don't surfer for fashion" crowd was so eager to embrace screwing tiny vices onto your ears, but there we are. My own mother (born 1953) remembers her mother (born 1926) always taking off her screwback earrings immediately after getting home from a party, literally in the foyer of their house the second the door shut. There had been adaptations for unpierced ears before- Little Women, published in 1868, describes Meg March hanging earrings from a flesh-colored silk ribbon tied around the base of her ear -but they'd never caught on like this before.

However, the pendulum was soon to swing back. After just 40 years of Piercing Panic, in the 1960s, girls began piercing their ears again in droves. As piercing moved from the slumber party or summer camp back to the professional jewelers whose families had been early professional piercers in the 19th century- and to befuddled doctors who had no idea what they were doing yet still received piercing requests -cultural commentators had no idea what to make of it. Some decried the new trend while most took an air of bemused neutrality. My personal favorite article expressed surprise that "Space Age misses" were adopting these "Victorian traditions."

(In 1965, my grandmother took Mom to the anesthesiologist down the street who was offering to pierce his young daughter's friends gratis, and got it done. My grandfather had strongly disapproved of the idea, but in the end it took him a week to notice the new earrings.)

As to sources...honestly, I've just gone to Google Books, specified a time frame, and typed in "ear piercing," "pierced ears," "pierce ears," etc. Tons of primary sources at your fingertips, though I'm not always great about documenting or saving what I find. There's not much written about it formally, I've found- no books or scholarly studies. It may just be too close in history to attract much academic attention, though I find it fascinating.

This little blip where something that's been normal for most of western history suddenly became taboo for a hot second.

Also my ear piercings just turned 20 five days ago, commemorating the date that I was taken with much ceremony to Piercing Pagoda (and that horrible gun; it's a wonder I didn't get keloids) to get me out from underfoot while the Thanksgiving feast was being made. Grandma got hers pierced on the same day, at age 78. Happy Birthday, Marzi's ear piercings!

[cenittxnadir]

A little fever (Nightcrawler x Reader)

Okey, so this is my very firt story with Kurt. I´ll be posting more soon about him, for the moment I will only write about him. So please tell me if you like it or if you some ideas. You know the drip, english is not my first lenguage... nor german...

Having free time was something new within the mansion, now with Magneto in charge of the institute and reorganizing the activities among the inhabitants of the mansion, he left several mutants without many responsibilities other than taking care of the minors and ensuring that they complete their tasks and training. Because yes, Magneto may be a terrorist and a murderer, but he will never be irresponsible towards education, especially towards the youngest members of the house. So every day he personally made sure that each and every one of the young people attended their classes.

Very responsible on his part, but it does not take away the feeling of discomfort in some of the members, especially the X-Men like Wolverine or Scott, -the only thing they have agreed on since Professor Xaver died-

However, this didn't bother you that much, since you shared the idea with Rogue of giving Magnus a second chance. Because if life had given you a second chance to do things well and help others with your powers, why would you be the one who would deny it to someone else who in the end only seeks to continue with the Professor's dream. Maybe a very innocent or naive move on your part in wanting to see the best in the worst situations but they couldn't blame you either, that's what happens when you live for a long time with a certain blue ex-priest.

Kurt Wagner or better known as Nightcrawler is famous among the mansion even though his humility does not allow him to recognize it, but he is very loved within the mutant community, both at the institute and in Genosha. Since his arrival at the mansion, Kurt has been the echo of the people who continue their struggle and the voice of those who cannot raise it due to the impunity that lives in a world where being different was wrong.

But for you, more than a spokesperson or a faithful follower of God's teachings, he was a man, a very good one whom you had the fortune of calling boyfriend and sharing life with him for a couple of years now.

Unfortunately, being someone who was too influential within the community, Magneto relied a lot on him and his professionalism to deal with complicated issues within Genosha. He was recently offered the position as Faith Group Mediator in Genosha and it was definitely not an opportunity he would pass up, there was so much to do and learn. But Kurt is still one person against the hundreds of problems that a nascent nation can have, the poor man was exhausted but his determination to help was greater than his physical or emotional ailments.

You had been living apart for a couple of months now, the problem was not the distance, Megneto was kind to you and gave you access to the Jet as many times as you wanted so you could go visit him, but like Kurt, you were also someone important among the X-Men, you were a very good teacher and guide for the younger ones who were just awakening their abilities and Magneto needed you in that area. It was not an easy decision for the two of you but it was a good opportunity to explore new areas in your lives, you as the one in charge of guiding and educating the new generations and him as a founding member of the nation that would accommodate those new generations.

Lately due to both of their workloads it has caused communication to be minimal, but this would soon change for you since the holidays were approaching and you would have more free time and the possibility of visiting him for a couple of weeks but the problem is that Kurt was not answering your messages or calls, worried you went to the person you least expected to go to discuss a topic of this type.

It was the 5th turn you had taken in the hallway that led to Magneto's office door. You didn't know how to start the conversation or how to ask him, maybe Kurt was very busy and going to visit him would only delay him in his work and you didn't want that to cause him problems with Magneto, even though he now plays for the good guys you are still afraid of him. Whatever the reason Kurt wasn't responding, you had to make a decision right then and there.

A couple more turns and you almost left marks from your shoes on the carpet.

"Come on, you can do it. It's just Magneto, the greatest mutant ex-terrorist in history, what could go wrong?" You started to encourage yourself "Come on, don't you want to see Kurt?" You counted to three, it's now or never. You barely touched the wooden door when it opened.

"I was just going to look for you" "Me? Why?" You were more confused "You might want to sit down." He said something serious as he offered you a seat. "It's about Kurt. He's not okay, there was a flu outbreak on the island recently, nothing alarming, but, he hasn't stopped working since he arrived in Genosha, I've trying to talk to him, he needs to rest and recover from the fever but he doesn't listen to me"

You didn't know what impressed you more, Magneto's concern or Kurt being sick. No one knows if it's part of his mutation or if he just has a good immune system, but it's extremely rare for Kurt to get sick. "I need you to go to Genosha and stop him, it seems that he only listens to you."

"Well... that explains why he doesn't want to talk to me. He doesn't answer my messages, much less my calls. I just hope that after this you give him a break from so much work, Erick." You were a little upset with him, with both of them actually, Erick for making Kurt work too much and Kurt because he is not good at asking for help. "I'll leave right away"

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

It only took you a few minutes to get everything ready to go, you thought Hank would be more reluctant to lend you the Jet but as soon as he found out what was happening with Kurt he didn't think twice. After a couple of hours you finally arrived at the mutant nation of Genosha, everything was very different from the first time you visited just a couple of months ago. Everything was very beautiful, the lights, the people so colorful and friendly, children being free and happy. It was a dream.

Quickly got out of your thoughts and focused on finding your blue boyfriend who is most likely hiding away working. It was not difficult to find it, Magneto gave instructions on where to look and sure enough. Inside a large window in the main city building was Kurt... well, part of him, you could only see his pointy ears behind a pile of paper towers.

You slowly approached to knock on his door. Silence. Suddenly there was only the sound of a chair being dragged and something moving inside the room. A few seconds later the door opened revealing a rather tired Kurt. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, which didn't shine like they usually did.

"Meine Liebe?" You couldn't help but smile as you listened to Kurt, he sounded overly impressed to see you. Although the smile did not last long since Kurt sounded very bad, he was hoarse and if it were not for the light from the hallway that illuminated his face you would have ignored the color in his cheeks and the sweat on his forehead.

"You're not okay, Krut, you need to rest" was the only thing you could respond, opening the door completely and revealing the office, there were hundreds of papers scattered all over the place. "You haven't stopped working since you arrived. You had me worried" Kurt didn't say anything, just hung his head in some shame. "It's true, I didn't tell you anything because I didn't want to worry you, I wanted to finish work so I could return to the mansion with you as a surprise but work just keeps piling up and this flu won't leave me alone" He sounded really fed up with the situation.

"Come on, you have to rest. I'll take you home and prepare you something to eat." You took him by the arm carefully. "You probably haven't eaten anything useful all day."

"Of course I have eaten my love! Here in Genosha there is a lot of variety of food and delicious dishes" He said with his circus voice, he always uses it when he is happy or wants to show you something that excites him very much. Or well, with a voice attempt, it really sounded very hoarse

"Dear, candy and desserts don't count as food." You pointed to a pile of wrappers on the side of his desk. "I'm surprised you've never actually had a toothache or something at this point."

You approached his desk to arrange the papers he was working on. "Well, take your things, let's go get something to eat and let you rest."

"But Mein Schatz, I still have a lot of work to do. I can't leave, but you can go ahead and make yourself at home" He gave you the keys to his room

"Kurt, I came here to check on you and make sure you're resting and for God's sake that's what I'm going to do. If I have to take drastic measures or even if I have to drag you to your room I will do it. Don't make me go to extremes Kurt Wagner" You wanted to sound serious but it was almost impossible, you were too happy to see him.

"If you continue to be reckless, then I will have to leave and there will be no cuddling sessions for at least a whole month, anyway you are very busy with your work. I think I better go" You said with a fake sad tone as you walked towards the exit but a huge gasp stopped you.

"You wouldn't dare do that! Saying that is like blasphemy." Kurt looked at his desk for a second. "On second thought, going to rest doesn't sound so bad." He looked at you with concern, he really thought you were going to leave him without his sessions. They were sacred to him.

"Well, let's go. It's still early, if we leave right now we'll have more time for ourselves." You didn't even finish speaking when Kurt was already on the side of the door ready to leave with you.

When you got to his room you could see Kurt better, his face was tired and the fever was still there.

"Why don't you take a bath while I'll take care of the food?" you took his face in your hands, caressing his cheek and then leaving a kiss on his nose.

The bath took effect and soon his temperature began to drop but he still had to eat something before taking his medicine. They were both sitting on the couch eating some hot soup while watching something on television, although it was just background noise.

Kurt was telling you what his days had been like since he arrived, you were paying attention but you couldn't help but see how he rubbed his shoulder constantly.

"Love? Are you okay?" you pointed to his shoulder

"Ah, it's nothing, it's just that I haven't been able to sleep well lately and well... sitting for hours is not very pleasant" He said with a sideways smile showing one of his fangs.

Without saying anything you took him by the hand and led him to the bed, asking him to lie face down while you took some oils and creams from your backpack. Kurt initially refused because he knew he was going to fall asleep and wanted to spend the night awake with you talking. Not a very smart plan considering his state of health. The complaints were short-lived once he felt your hands on his back. Almost by magic, Kurt remained silent and soon you only heard small snoring due to his congestion. You couldn't help but laugh a little, he looked so adorable. You took his blanket and tucked him in, giving him a kiss on the head.

You quickly cleaned what was used during dinner and changed your clothes to lie next to Kurt, who almost as if it were a magnetic force moved until he was lying on your chest. You were definitely going to wake up with the flu but that didn't matter.

"Please don't go," Kurt said in his sleep.

"No, my love. I'm going to stay here with you"

[riality-check]

ao3 link

Viktor does not have many friends at the Academy, but he is rarely alone. Such is the nature of university life. The academic environment is inherently social; he attends class with other students, eats alongside them, and must frequently bang on his wall so as to alert his neighbors that he can, in fact, hear… whatever activities they decide to do on weeknights. Being alone at the Academy is a difficult feat, and it is one that does not go out of his way to accomplish.

He has learned that surprises some of his classmates. They often remark, when they are paired with him for group projects, about their perceptions of him.

“I thought you’d be meaner.”

“I thought you’d be quieter.”

“I always assumed you were just shy.”

Every time, Viktor must refrain from rolling his eyes. Topside politeness is a strange thing, he has learned. It is very performative, with its big smiles and friendly, useless greetings. He finds it difficult to imitate - why, for example, ask someone “how are you?” if neither they nor him truly care for the answer? - and so he sticks to Undercity standards.

Nod politely as a greeting. Give people space unless they require conversation. Offer a chair or a coat or a snack if someone is in need, with the understanding that the debt will be repaid.

Back home, his parents were often praised for raising such a polite boy. Here, at least once a semester, someone comments on his standoffishness.

It does not matter. He is not here to slack off. He is here to learn. He does not need anything more than the pleasant, occasional company of his classmates, who, he is discovering, will offer their smiles but never their coats.

Every once in a while, he does get more. Someone will stay in his room for a night - they always think they are the ones in charge at the beginning, a fact that Viktor finds equally amusing and irritating - and coo sweet words about his appearance and his intellect.

He is lucky if they look at him the next morning. He learns the hard way that they are perfectly content with a trencher in their bed but never on their arm.

When this finally sinks in - it does not take long; he has always been a quick study - Viktor swallows back whatever odd thing it is that rises in his throat and determines that this attitude suits him perfectly well.

______________________________________________________________

The brace is simple in its concept but difficult to perfect. Considering the amount of time spent constructing his current cane a few semesters ago, Viktor is not surprised. Engineering for biological systems is far more complex than, say, pure mechanical engineering. Pain and discomfort, for example, are complicating factors for his leg bug not for air filtration systems.

Viktor would much rather design air filtration systems than leg braces or canes. They are far more interesting and useful on a larger scale. But the truth of the matter is that he cannot trust anyone else to construct these devices for him. Only he knows how they feel for his body, and the effort he would have to undergo to translate the abstract (but very real) sensations of wrongness, in all their varied forms, into words that another person can understand is not worth it. Not when he can just grab a wrench.

What is that saying? “If you want something done right, do it yourself.”

Story of Viktor’s life.

He sits on his bed, right leg crossed at an uncomfortable height over his left, and tightens a screw. The previous designs are all documented in his notebook, which he flips through using his unoccupied hand. With every problem he eliminates, a new one arises. It is the worst haggling he has ever partaken in.

The brace must be worn underneath his trousers; he will not wrinkle his uniform if he can avoid it. Until recently, this meant that the cold, harsh metal of the brace would chill and bite at his skin. He only had so much salve (fresh unopened tin, left in the communal bathroom for a week with no takers) left, and he intended to save it for injuries that mattered.

He tried once, a few days ago, with a long sock on underneath the brace, but it rolled down so often and so severely that in a fit of exasperation, he nearly cut it off with scissors. Then he remembered that his sewing kit did not have enough black thread to repair that level of damage.

He only had three pairs of socks left, as they had a proclivity for vanishing inexplicably each time he washed his clothes. So, he could not cut it.

This design should, hopefully, “do the trick.” He attached cushioning (A petite girl he had taken a calculus class with, when she woke up the next morning in his room, asked, with a glance at the sewing kit left on his desk, if he could hem a dress for her. She repaid him by purchasing his next meal - real food, finally, not from the university - and letting him keep the scrap. He never saw her again.) to the parts of the brace most uncomfortable to wear.

All the old problems - tension, pressure, weight, bulk - have been resolved. There will only be new ones.

Viktor tightens the last screw. Time to see what those will be.

The brace is multifunctional. Primarily, its design is intended to correct the abnormal inward rotation of his right leg. Secondarily, it supports his knee and ankle to both allow his muscles to stop carrying that burden and prevent the joints from overextending and subluxating, as they often tend to do.

It will be uncomfortable, compelling his leg away from its natural state. But Viktor can live with discomfort if it is in exchange for improvement.

He has been haggling in this manner for his entire life.

With assistance from his cane, he stands. Then, he divides his weight evenly between his two own feet, holding his cane aloft.

There is the discomfort, as he had expected, but there is no pain.

He paces up and down the length of his dorm without his cane. His joints are relegated to a normal range of motion, which is restrictive but more stable. They do not feel as loose. A dull stretch, induced by the rigidity of the brace fighting against his body, along the side of his leg runs from thigh to calf, but that is all.

No other pain. No true pain, other than the dull ache of adjustment.

He nearly falls over with the realization before he catches himself on the wall. He has had days free of pain before, but they occurred far more often when he was a child. Now, they are so few and far between that he had nearly forgotten what it was like to have the distraction of it removed almost entirely. 

He can think more clearly without it whispering talking shouting in his ear. He can breathe more easily.

Walking is awkward, what with the new rotation and the added weight, but he conjectures that he will get acclimated to it. He wants to get acclimated to it.

Outside of his window, he has a nearly unobscured view of the Academy clocktower. It takes him one glance to realize he is very nearly late for his systems course.

In his haste, Viktor nearly forgets to bring his cane with him to class. With how his brace reduces the pain, it is merely a failsafe in the event his balance is compromised by the awkwardness of his gait.

He barely uses it. Once he gets used to the new positioning of his leg, walking is a little easier. Slower, but easier. And the whole time, his cane barely makes contact with the ground.

The whispers are loud as always.

“Did he get better?”

“Has he been faking?”

“I knew someone our age couldn’t actually need it.”

He holds his head up and ignores them. When he catches a look, he returns the stares and wins.

He knows he will never be able to run. He could not when he was a child, and the unfortunate fact that the many non-functioning components of his body will only degrade - a fact he greatly prefers not to dwell on - has prohibited the notion for the rest of his life.

For the first time, he wants to run. So badly, in fact, that it is heart that aches instead of his leg.

He walks into class without the assistance of his cane, with the brace hidden underneath his pant leg, and believes, entirely, that this could work. That maybe he can walk like this, with no outward signal that he is different. Non-functional. Built incorrectly in the compounding of each and every failure inflicted upon the Undercity.

Maybe this is something he can overcome with his intellect. He already crawled up. What is stopping him from walking upright?

What is stopping his brilliant mind from allowing him to run?

He spends all day testing this notion, barely using his cane.

Viktor should have known the haggling would not work entirely in his favor. It never has.

When his body comes to collect, he pays in full. With interest.

The other installments, if you're interested: 1, 2, 3. 5 6.