#and probably interest changes have stopped a lot of interactions with some maybe (anxiety: unless i'm the reason)

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

the more i think about it, the more changing my url might be a thing that i might do one day in the far off(probably) future. i need things around me to be as different as i feel

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

[ghostgothgeek]

Chaos.

Another for the Phic Phight! This one kinda combines two prompts and I had so much fun writing it! In this, Danny and Tucker don’t know Sam plays video games yet. 5,063 words.

"What do you mean you don’t feel the same way? We´ve had a mutual crush on each other for years." Sam says angrily after finally confessing her love to him. But Danny´s heart was beating hard for someone else entirely. Prompt by phantomfana. 

Danny wants to ask his crush to the upcoming school dance. Prompt by Rikaleeta.

-----

It was another long night of ghost hunting for Danny. Technus took up the first part of the night, trying to take over the park’s new security system. Tucker was fortunately still awake to help him out with that. Then Johnny and Kitty rolled in, but they weren’t looking for trouble, they just wanted a date night and swore they wouldn’t be a problem. Apparently Fridays were their days off for “everything but each other”. Danny was a romantic, but he didn’t know if this was sweet or nauseating. Ember had put up a good fight, though. He was proud he only had one injury to tend to. He had dodged most of her attacks, but she was still a pretty advanced ghost. And, of course, Danny had caught the Box Ghost six, count them, SIX times. How did he always manage to get out?! He wasn’t difficult to take down, he was just a pest. 

Danny sighed as he sat down at his computer chair. It was only 12:30 am, and it was a Friday. He could sleep in tomorrow and he deserved at least a couple hours of fun. He logged into his online gaming account and saw Tucker was online. Figures. He pulled up the chat anyway. 

Astrohaunt: Hey Tuck. Still up?

Technopedia: You know it. Chaos signed on about a half hour ago and I’m not passing up the opportunity.

Astrohaunt: Dude is so good it’s unreal!

Technopedia: He goes to our school, I tracked one of his IP addresses and he logged in at school a few times.

Astrohaunt: Tucker wtf. That’s creepy!

Technopedia: I just want to make sure Chaos is actually a kid and not Lancer again!

Astrohaunt: I still can’t wrap my mind around Lancer playing Doomed…

Technopedia: Same. But Chaos IP is different from Lancer, so we good. Unless more teachers play Doomed.

Astrohaunt: I hate you for putting that image into my brain.

Technopedia: Sorry dude. But quick come join before someone else gets Chaos.

Danny, Tucker, and Chaos had made a great team. Whenever Chaos was around, they were actually able to progress through the game. They played several rounds until Tucker was caught by his mom and was forced to sign off, but Danny and Chaos kept playing. 

TeamChaos: Hey, what’s up?

Astrohaunt: Omg dude you’re so awesome. 

TeamChaos: Ha, thanks. Gotta blow off steam somehow. 

Astrohaunt: Tell me about it! Between Lancer’s three projects and midterms and...other stuff...this is my only time to actually chill. I’ve been so stressed!

TeamChaos: Same. I did finish one of the projects though. I’m always here if you need to talk, you know. 

Astrohaunt: Wow, I may just take you up on that offer. I’ve had a rough night.

TeamChaos: Lay it on me.

And so Danny, sparing the ghost hunting details, stayed up chatting with Chaos until 5 am. He got along really well with the guy, they had a lot of similar interests. This was just the first of many up-all-night conversations they shared. After a few months, Danny felt a special connection with Chaos, and yet, he didn’t even know his name! 

Astrohaunt: We’ve been talking all these months and I still don’t know your name. I’m Danny. 

TeamChaos: Oh, thought you knew. It’s Sam!

Astrohaunt: Hey! One of my best friends is named Sam! 

TeamChaos: You don’t say!!!

The next day at school, Danny pulled Tucker over to him, whispering, “Dude, help. I think I might be gay....” 

“What?!” Tucker shouted.

“Quiet, Tuck!” 

“Okay, well uh...why?” Tucker sent him a weird look and took a step back. 

“No, not you. Chaos. I think I have a crush on Chaos.” Danny ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do! I never thought I’d be...you know. Chaos and I just have good conversations and he’s always there to listen to me when I need to vent. I thought maybe I found another best friend but...this is different. Chaos is so cool and I’m crushing and I don’t even know who he is or what he looks like! Or if he feels the same way! Maybe I’m just stupid and-”

“Dude, chill. You’re jumping too far ahead of yourself. Whichever way you, you know, swing...I’m still your best friend.” Tucker pulled out his PDA. “Let me see what I can find out. I know Chaos goes to our school.”

“Thanks, Tuck. As if being half ghost wasn’t hard enough! Oh, and he’s in our class, because he’s talked me through assignments and knows what they are and stuff. He’s almost as good as explaining things as Sam. Crap...Sam. Don’t tell her about this!” Danny started fidgeting. 

“Well,” Tucker raised his eyebrows in surprise, “I can tell you with absolute certainty that Chaos is definitely a girl.” 

“You found out who Chaos is?!” 

“What, like it’s hard?” Tucker chuckled. “I traced the IP addresses she uses. I know who she is. So do you,” Tucker smirked, “It shocked me at first, but it makes total sense! And I can totally see why you like her.” 

“Really?” Danny let out a breath in relief. “Okay that makes me feel a lot better...hey, maybe I can ask Chaos to the dance next Saturday!” 

Tucker rested a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Go for it. Ask Sam. I’m almost positive she’ll say yes.”

“Okay, I will...wait, not Sam! Chaos!” Danny clarified. “Well, actually, I think Chaos told me her name was Sam. Ha, small world. I can’t wait to introduce Sam to Sam. I think they would really get along.” 

Tucker busted out laughing, “Oh, dude. You go ahead and do that.” He left Danny standing there in the hallway, still laughing all the way to his next class.

Danny, a bit confused by Tucker’s laughter, shook his head and smiled to himself. Okay, good. He’d had enough identity crises to fill a lifetime. Chaos was definitely a girl. Now if he just knew Chaos returned his feelings, things might actually work out for him this time and he could actually have a girlfriend.

Meanwhile, Sam was having an internal debate of her own. Sitting in a class where the teacher couldn’t give two shits about what the students were doing, she had always used this class as her thinking time. Usually her thinking-about-Danny time. She nervously clicked her pen as she thought about recent events. 

She and Danny spent so much time chatting online when they weren’t hanging out in person. Danny was a little bit more bold online, probably because he didn’t have to interact face-to-face or risk his pants falling down in public again. Online, they talked about everything. No topic was off limits. Plus, Sam felt like their friendship had only grown even stronger when they could chat online and not have to worry about blushing or getting teased by Tucker. Chatting online took away all the pressure and made it much easier to connect with Danny. 

Danny hadn’t said anything yet, of course. He was probably scared. Hell, she was scared. She was already so in love with him, and getting closer online only further solidified that fact. She had never been in love before, and even though she hunts ghosts, this was more terrifying! She was fairly certain he returned her feelings, but both were too chicken to actually make that final step. They’ve been best friends forever. She didn’t want to mess up their already great dynamic or force Tucker to be the third wheel, though he did insist he was more than okay with that and encouraged them to finally get together. 

Sam stopped clicking her pen as she suddenly remembered it was senior year. They hadn’t picked colleges yet, but whether they ended up going to the same school or not, things were going to change. Danny was very attractive, and going off to college meant girls may actually approach him when they didn’t know his parents were ghost fighters. The fact had never bothered Sam, but she did kind of like how it kept most girls at school from asking him out or giving him attention. Valerie had been a challenge, especially because she was a ghost hunter herself and probably wanted to get tips from his parents. Sam was glad that relationship ended relatively early. It was too hard on her. Joyous or not, though, she was still mad at Valerie for how she broke his heart. 

But that was 2 years ago. They had all moved on and friendships were more or less mended across the board. This made Sam glance at her favorite picture of her and Danny. Tucker had taken the candid picture and it was now her phone’s background. In it, Danny was giving Sam a piggyback ride. Her arms were lightly strung around his neck, legs looped around his waist. Danny had kept going in the opposite direction Sam told him to go, which frustrated her but also made her laugh. She had rested her chin on his shoulder, her face pressed right up against his. Danny was looking at her and Tucker had captured that rare moment when Sam had a huge grin on her face, still laughing. She smiled at the picture. They would be okay no matter what. Their friendship would survive.

Anyway, Sam also realized she had already come close to losing Danny, in more ways than one. Whether it was to other girls or a ghost, there was always that anxiety stirring in her head that she could lose him entirely some day. Life was too short. She needed to take the plunge for both of them and just get them both over this hurdle, and they could finally, finally, actually get together. 

Sam made her decision. It was now or never. She was going to tell him. Today. The trio was meeting up at Danny’s house later anyway, and if she got there early enough, she could talk to him before Tucker showed up and teased them about it. Sam firmly nodded her head to herself, a confirmation of her decision. It was finally time.

After school, Danny was pacing in his room, trying to figure out how he wanted to do this. Asking a girl to the dance wasn’t a huge deal, and yet at the same time, it was. He would rather ask in person, but he still didn’t know what Chaos looked like, so asking in person seemed to be off the table. He could look in the yearbook for all the girls named Sam at their school. He could already omit one Sam Manson from that list. How many Sams could possibly attend their school? It would be easier to ask Tucker, though. Tucker already knew who she was. Sam and Tucker were on their way over right now. When Sam wasn’t paying attention, he could ask Tucker for Sam’s full name. 

Chaos Sam, not best friend Sam. God, this was so confusing. Why were girls so hard for him? Freshman year, Paulina only liked his ghost half and wouldn’t give his human half the time of day. Sophomore year, Valerie hated his ghost half and that hatred was more important to her than her feelings for his human half. Junior year, he had been denying that he was in love with his best friend. And now that he had finally accepted that he did like his best friend as much more than a friend, a new girl entered the picture and he now found himself trying to choose between two Sams. Because it apparently wasn’t hard enough for him already to make the biggest and most important change he could possibly make in a friendship, let’s add another crush to the mix and give them the same name.

Sam. Best friend Sam - that’s who he was planning on asking originally, even if he chickened out and had to ask her as a friend instead. Plus, he and Sam had somehow gotten closer recently, and he was pretty sure she liked him. Sure, it was only because Tucker told him so, but it was a possibility. The thing was, he didn’t want to ruin things. Especially because he truly didn’t know how Sam, best friend Sam, felt about him. She was a tough and courageous girl, surely she would have said something by now if it were true. So Tucker must be pulling his leg.

But he did have another option - Chaos Sam, who may actually return his feelings. Sure, the feelings weren’t nearly as strong as what he felt for his best friend, but the feelings were still there. Plus, if he got rejected by Chaos, it would be less heartbreaking than being rejected by Sam, someone he had known for years rather than months. He could deal with losing a newer friend, but not one of his best friends. Sam was too important and he knew he needed her in his life.

Danny sighed. This was really hard, but he made a decision. It was easier to go with Chaos than risk ruining things with Sam. Danny had enough drama going on in his life already, he needed an easy win. 

He broke from his thoughts when the doorbell rang. He ran downstairs and opened it, only slightly surprised to see Sam there. She was usually early for things. He and Tuck were more prone to being late. 

“Hey, Sam. Come on in!” Danny moved so Sam could enter his house. He shut the door and followed her upstairs and back to his room as she returned his greeting. She was pacing the same path he just had, muttering quietly to herself. She looked nervous. “Something on your mind?” 

Sam was startled out of her thoughts. “Huh? Oh yeah.” She noticed his disheveled appearance, also noting he was fidgety. Was he going to do what she was about to do? “What about you, you look like you’ve been thinking a little too hard about something.” She smiled softly. 

Danny chuckled, “Yeah, but it’ll resolve itself soon. I’ll worry about it after the movies. Tuck should be here any second. Oh, but I’m glad you’re early. Can you help me with something quick?” 

“Of course.” Sam followed him to his desk, smiling and rolling her eyes when he pointed to a homework problem. “I should have known.” 

Danny gave her a lopsided smile and watched as she showed him how to do the problem in her perfect handwriting. It took no more than a couple of minutes. Now, they were just waiting for Tucker to arrive. 

Sam looked at the time. He would be here soon. She needed to do this now. She needed to tell Danny. She couldn’t wait until after the movies for him to tell her. She had already waited long enough and couldn’t bear another second.

“Danny, can I talk to you for a second?” She sat down on his bed and gestured for him to do the same. 

Danny could sense the seriousness in her voice, and nodded anxiously. He was scared when Sam was serious about things. It was usually something bad.

“Danny…” She decided to get straight to the point. “I like you. As in like-like you. More than like, and more than a friend. And we’ve been doing this dancing around for at least 4 years now and I’m sick of it. I just want to be with you already. What do you say?” Sam held her breath as she waited for Danny to answer. 

He stared at her with wide eyes before nervously rubbing the back of his neck and turning his attention to his shoes, avoiding eye contact with the goth. God, why him?! He had stupidly thought, for once, things would be easier for him this time. He had already sent an offline message to Chaos that he wanted to ask her something, and then Sam had to come along and tell him what he had wanted to hear for some time now. But he couldn’t blow Chaos off when he had already somewhat asked. Of course, his life just had to be complicated every step of the way. He really liked both girls and didn’t want to hurt his best friend. Regardless, he had to be honest. He owed Sam that much. “Well, I mean, yeah, but…” 

“But what?” Sam whispered, clearly already upset. Fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK. This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen. He decided to try going with Chaos so he could avoid heartbreak from his best friend. The very thing he had been so afraid of, he was doing to her right now. 

Danny sighed again. “But I can’t. I’m so sorry, Sam.” It was hard to choke out, but he said it, and he felt terrible. He pressed his lips together and kept staring at his shoes until Sam lifted his chin up, forcing him to look at her. 

“What do you mean you don’t feel the same way? We’ve had mutual crushes on each other for years!” Sam said angrily, feeling her heart break as her best friend and love of her life rejected her confession of love. She was so sure he returned her feelings! Especially after all the great conversations they had shared online these last few months. “Or, at least, I thought we did.” Tears swelled in her eyes. Did he lead her on? “I-I need an explanation, Danny,” she quietly stated after he didn’t continue. 

Danny frowned and his heart ached. He didn’t want to hurt his best friend like this. Hell, he really liked her! Of course their crushes were mutual! And if this had happened 6 months ago instead of now, he would have jumped at the chance. But now...now he had Chaos and already forced himself to stick with his decision. It was easy with Chaos; there was no friendship to risk, no denying of being lovebirds or brushing off kisses as fakeout makeouts. Plus, he couldn’t lie to his best friend. She would know if he was lying. And he already told himself she deserved the truth. “There’s...someone else…” 

“What?” Sam whispered before turning angry again, “Paulina? Valerie? Star?” she spat out. 

Danny shook his head, “Ew, no...it’s someone I met online...I’m so sorry, Sam. I like you a lot, I really do, but I think I’ve already come to the conclusion that I like this girl I met online, Chaos, and I have to try to see that through.” 

Many emotions crossed Sam’s face as she pieced together what he just said. At first she was upset, but as he explained himself, she felt disbelief, confusion, anger, and finally, hope. He couldn’t really be that clueless, right? “Show me.” 

“Huh? I mean, I don’t actually know what she looks like, but we message every night and she really understands me! I know it sounds ridiculous, but-” 

“Show me,” Sam repeated. “Show me her profile.” 

“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” Danny questioned cautiously.

“No, of course not. Just shut up and show me the profile.” Sam was more calm now, and that was kind of scary. Even though Sam said she wouldn’t hurt Chaos, he didn’t want to give her the chance. But he knew how stubborn his friend was, and eventually in whatever way, she would force the information out of him. 

Danny sighed and pulled up the profile to show Sam. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’m still your best frien-” 

“Shut up.” Sam scrolled through what Danny pulled up for her and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Closing her eyes slowly, she took a deep breath. “Didn’t Chaos tell you her name?” 

“Uh,” Danny thought, “oh yeah! She said her name was Sam, because I thought she was a boy at first and I had an existential crisis, but then Tucker told me-” 

“Danny. I’m Sam.” 

“No I know, and sure it’ll be a little weird cause you’re Sam and she’s Sam, it’s confusing, but I-” 

Sam interrupted him once again. She could hear Tucker’s footsteps approaching. She was running out of time to not make this a spectacle. “No, Danny. Chaos. Sam. Me. I’m Sam. I am Sam,” 

Tucker only heard the tail end of the conversation as he entered the room. Never able to pass up a comedic opportunity, he smirked and added “I am Sam. Sam I am. I do not like green eggs and ham!” 

It was suddenly silent in the room as his friends seized conversation and glared at him. Oops. 

“Oh, am I interrupting something?” Tucker could see the fire in Sam’s eyes. “Uh, oh wait I forgot my...sock. I’ll be downstairs!” He raced out of the room.

Sam turned her attention back to Danny. “No, you stupid fucking MORON. I am Chaos. You’ve been talking to me the whole time. I thought you knew that!” Danny stared at her blankly until she pulled out her phone and he watched her log into her account, proving it to him. Sure enough, it was Chaos’s profile. He could see all the direct messages between them, including his offline message about wanting to ask her something.

“Wait, you? You’re Sam? I mean, Chaos? I mean Sam?” Danny looked back and forth between the profile and his best friend. 

“UGH!” Sam shouted as she threw her hands in the air. “Yes, Danny. That’s me! Did you really not notice that Chaos was the same age as me and a girl who goes to our school? We have the same name and interests! Didn’t you wonder why it was so easy to talk right off the bat? I thought you put that all together and us just pretending to not know each other was a little bit you were trying to do or something!” 

Danny stared at her as he continued to piece it all together. He was definitely embarrassed. He felt so stupid. How could he not tell that Chaos was Sam, his best friend since 7th grade? Talk about being totally clueless. 

Wait. Clueless? Well, fuck! He got the nickname now! 

His eyes flickered back and forth as he thought everything through. Eventually, he started to crack a smile. “Wait, so I’ve had a crush on you and also you? You’re the same person! This is great! Do you know what this means?!” 

Sam slapped her forehead and began walking downstairs. “I don’t even know if this is worth it anymore…” 

“Wait, how come Tuck and I never knew you played video games! We can enter team tournaments! You’re so good!” Danny chased after her. 

Tucker watched as Sam grumbled about Danny caring more about video games than her. An excited Danny was right on her tail. 

“Tucker! Sam is Chaos! I’ve been in love with Sam this whole time!” Danny explained. 

“Tucker, I need you to refrain me from slapping his stupid clueless face,” Sam started. 

“Wait, you didn’t know Sam was Chaos? Dude! I thought I was obvious about that!” Tucker began laughing at Danny. 

“I know, so did I.” Sam crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Danny, you can calculate levels of rocket fuel and figure out how to get us to Mercury or something,” Tucker started. 

“Mars, actually,” Danny corrected. 

“But you can’t figure out that your best friend and your crush are the same person? You’re more than Captain Clueless, you’re like….Lieutenant Clueless? That’s like, bigger right?” Tucker continued. 

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Tuck,” Sam chimed in. 

“Shut up Sam, this isn’t about you,” Tucker immediately stopped his train of thought when he felt Sam glaring daggers at him. “Heh, uh. Except it does. It actually has nothing to do with me. I’m sorry I told you to shut up, please don’t hurt me!” He threw his hands up in front of himself in defense. 

“Relax, Tucker. I’m more angry with this fucking dingus,” she pointed her thumb in Danny’s direction. 

The halfa was about to protest, then closed his mouth. “That’s fair, I deserve that.” 

“I can’t even look at you right now. You scared me! I poured out my emotions to you. I thought you were rejecting me and that I would have to change my name and move to a different country! Wait, are you still rejecting me?” Sam stopped her pacing to look at him. 

“Of course not, Sammy!” 

“Oh don’t you ‘Sammy’ me! I told you I love you, you stupid fucking idiot!” Sam began throwing pillows at Danny, who expertly dodged them (though as a result, Tucker got hit in the face by one). 

“Technically, you didn’t say ‘love’ you said ‘like’”, Danny offered as Tucker shook his head and slashed finger across his neck, signaling Danny to stop talking. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! This is all my fault! I’m going to go jump off a cliff now!” Sam growled and Danny let out a small “oomph” as one of the pillows finally got him. 

“I’m out. Good luck, bro!” Tucker quickly slipped out the door, leaving Danny and Sam alone. 

Sam was about to follow Tucker out when Danny stopped her, “please don’t leave!” She still had angry tears in her eyes. He frowned. This was not how he expected things to go. She watched him for a few seconds before sitting down on the couch, refusing to look at him. “Sam I’m so sorry, this is just a huge misunderstanding.”

“No, Danny. It’s not. You were going to turn me down to go out with someone else.”

“But that someone was still you!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t know that! We’ve been friends for years, and you were more interested in someone you just met a few months ago! I don’t want to be anyone’s second choice, Danny! I’ve been standing by for years as you continuously chose other girls over me. I thought we were done with that, and that you were finally choosing me first, but you won’t and you never will and I’m so stupid.” Sam put her head in her hands as she tried her hardest not to let tears fall. 

And that was when he finally figured it out. It wasn’t just the moment of rejection, it was years of rejection, and at her biggest confession, she still thought he was choosing someone over her. Not to mention, Tucker witnessed most of the conversation. Sam rarely showed her emotions. She always had her heart guarded, and he knew this. Tucker knew this. Hell, she didn’t even tell them she was rich until after a few years of friendship. It took them a while to get her to open up to them. She was a pretty private person. She was probably already hurt like this before. And now, she was probably embarrassed.

“You’re definitely not stupid. I’m stupid. I should have known it was you. That was actually what I really liked about Chaos, she reminded me of you.” 

Sam forced a small sarcastic laugh, “Yeah, right.” 

“No really,” Danny sat on the couch next to her and grabbed her hand, placing it in both of his. “Sam, you’re absolutely incredible. How dumb would I have to be to not notice?” Sam gave him a pointed look. “Okay yeah but it’s not the way you think it is. I liked Chaos because she was a lot like you. She reminded me of you. And it just seemed easier to go with her because she was basically you, but she and I didn’t have a really great friendship that could have gotten ruined if we broke up or something. I could live without her, but I can’t live without you. You’re always my number one. Always have been, always will be. Even if I did just fuck everything up. I’m so sorry, Sam. I’m ready to be with you, if you’ll still have me.” 

Sam stayed silent and stared at her lap, processing this new information. Of course she would forgive him; she always did. She just needed a little time. 

Danny was getting nervous that he really did fuck this up for good. This was so fucking important! He couldn’t risk fucking this up! Sensing her hesitation, Danny tried one more thing to get her back. One thing he hasn’t done before. One thing he just learned how to perfect.  

“Sammy, I’m sorry,” a duplicate popped up next to her on the other side of the couch, startling her. 

“Please forgive me?” Another duplicate was floating in front of her, hanging upside down, hair flopping all over the place. 

“I know I’m a dummy but,” Sam snapped her head towards a third duplicate. 

“I’m only a dummy because I’m in love. With you,” the real Danny finished. Sam looked back and forth between all the Dannys.  

“We’re sorry, Sammy,” all the duplicates said at once. 

Sam was trying really hard to hold back a smile. “You learned how to duplicate,” she stated simply. 

Original Danny grabbed her hands. “Sam. I will make this up to you. I promise.” 

She could hear the determination in his voice and sighed. “You better.” 

Danny smiled and hugged her. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!! I love you so much!”

Sam pushed him off of her. “I love you too, you fucking idiot.” 

“But I get to be your idiot!” Sam couldn’t hold her laughter back anymore. “Oh!” Danny shouted, “Will you go to the dance with me? Please?” 

Sam pretended to ponder the answer before saying “alright”. 

“Yay!” All 4 Dannys cheered. The duplicates on either side of her kissed her cheeks as the real Danny kissed her forehead tenderly. The final duplicate, feeling left out, squeezed his way in to give her a hug. 

Sam was now roaring with laughter before kissing the real Danny sweetly. “You know, duplicates won’t always get you out of trouble,” she warned. 

“Yeah, but they could come in handy for other things,” he wagged his eyebrows up and down suggestively before passionately kissing her, the duplicates kissing her neck and touching her in near-dangerous places. 

Sam bit back a moan, eyes lustful before smirking, “I think you just found a way to make it up to me.” She began dragging the real Danny and one of his duplicates back to his room. Fuck the movies.

[shireness-says]

Wherever You’re Going (I’m Going Your Way) [3/6]

Summary: 1952. A lost boy without a home, Killian Jones rides America’s back roads on his motorcycle, searching for a purpose that’s just out of reach. This pit stop was only supposed to be a few days, a couple of weeks at most, but a pretty blonde waitress just might be his salvation. Is he brave enough to let her? Rated T for language. ~3.6K.  Also on AO3. Ch. 1 Ch. 2

~~~~~

Killian spends the next day kicking himself for the way things ended in the diner. The simple thing would be to go back to the diner the next day — to prove with his presence alone that it’s alright, that he didn’t mean to stop the conversation entirely, even if he wasn’t willing to follow that one particular thread.

He doesn’t.

He spends a lot of time lying awake, replaying the moment he brought things to a screeching halt over and over again. It’s a form of self-flagellation, for certain, but it’s still better than the nightmares his mind conjures up night after night. There’s only so much the stars can do to calm him when he sees the same flames and crushing waves night after night. Reveling in his shame and recriminations is much preferable. 

(The sensible thing, of course, would be to stop lying awake in the dark and to just go to the diner for a pot of tea and a distraction. It’d give him a chance to make up for his own stupidity.)

(Killian Jones is not nearly that sensible.)

What really gets him is that he felt like there was a genuine connection between the two of them. It’s been a long while since Killian has felt so comfortable talking to another person, able to leave some of his regular self-consciousness behind. It had seemed to go both ways, too — like she understood him on some level, and wanted to hear what he had to say. Maybe if he hadn’t been so curt; maybe if he had been willing to open himself up more… but it’s no use. What’s done is done, and besides, Killian can’t truly regret not sharing more, even if he does regret what that meant for whatever was shared between him and Emma in those moments. He’s not ready, or willing, to talk about all the reasons he fled — not yet. Not even with blonde angels who make him feel like a man again.

It’s an unspeakable surprise — not to mention, relief — when Emma shows up at the garage with a sack lunch from Granny’s two days after their unceremonious parting. His pulse picks up the moment she walks in the open garage door with paper bags in each hand, evidently not feeling any of the same anxieties he is.

“Anyone hungry?” she calls lightly, smiling at Killian like any awkwardness is forgotten. Maybe it is. He’d be a fool to bring it up again.

“Is that you, Emma?” David hollers from across the shop where he’s camped out under the hood of a truck, replacing one of its radiators. 

“Sure is,” she responds easily. “I’ve got a tuna salad sandwich here with your name on it, too. Unless you’d rather knock around under the hood…” 

“Don’t be silly,” David responds with a fond tone to his voice as he wipes his hands on a spare rag to get rid of the worst of the grease. “You know I’ll never say no to food, especially not Granny’s tuna salad. Fries?”

“Of course, I know how this works.”

Killian looks back and forth between the two of them in confusion; there’s a level of familiarity here that he hadn’t expected. “I’m sorry, do you two know each other?” It’s a bit of a silly question, considering the interaction he just witnessed, but truthfully, he’s a little lost. This was not remotely what he expected to happen. Then again, Storybrooke is a small town; it stands to reason that everyone knows everyone. He’s still stuck in that big-city mentality, he supposes. 

“Emma’s like a little sister to me,” David explains as he slings his arm around her shoulders. 

“Am I little, or are you just old?” she jabs back. The familiarity of that exchange sends a brief jab of pain shooting through Killian’s heart; it’s so reminiscent of the way he and Liam used to poke at each other, the way Killian constantly had to insist that he was younger, not little. 

(He’ll never have that again, and it hurts. He’d put up with all matters of teasing, if it meant he could have his brother back.)

“We’ve known each other since we were, what, teenagers?” David continues, obviously ignoring Emma’s teasing. “Ever since she came up from Portland to stay with Miss Ingrid, God rest her soul.”

“Twelve years now,” Emma nods. “And he’s been insufferable ever since.”

(There’s more of a story there, Killian thinks, but he knows not to push. He’s got things he’s not willing to share either, after all, as they more than proved the night before last.)

“Anyways, I brought you lunch, too, Killian,” Emma says. “I didn’t know what else you’d like, so it’s just ham and cheese again.”

“Again?” David butts in. Killian can practically see the other man’s big brother instincts kick in, which has rarely meant good things for him. People say he’s a bad influence, after all, and Killian isn’t sure he disagrees. “You two have already met?”

“At the diner, you pest. Stand down, soldier, or… something.” Emma rolls her eyes, but the affection is still obvious between the two of them. That’s not something you can mask, even if one is exasperated and the other’s an arse. That’s siblings, really — you love them, even when they grate on your nerves. Even when they’re just connected by love, rather than blood. “Anyways, I just wanted to make sure you were both fed. I’ve got to get back to the lunch rush, actually. I’ll see you later?” 

She must be talking to David — she must. Nothing else makes sense. That doesn’t change the fact that she makes eye contact with Killian as she speaks, holding his stare until he gives a small nod in the affirmative. David says something in the background — probably agreeing, if Killian had to guess — but he’s not listening in the least, far more interested in anything Emma is doing. It’s because of that single-minded attention that Killian can see the small smile she offers him in return, just large enough to begin to round her cheeks and crinkle her eyes. Maybe she did mean to say it to him after all; why else would she smile at him like that? Killian is left with so many questions, but at least he knows she wants so see him again — that he hasn’t mucked things up beyond any repair. 

“So were you going to mention that you knew Emma?” David asks, taking a hearty bite of his sandwich.

“I didn’t know I needed to, mate. I didn’t realize you two even knew each other, let alone so well, until just now.” His own sandwich is just the way he likes it, and the fries somehow still nice and warm. It’s astounding to him that Emma would think to bring him lunch as well; he’s a lucky man, to have earned her kindness. 

“Hmph.” David picks a few fries of his own out of the bag. “I don’t need to give a warning talk or anything, do I?”

“No,” Killian answers immediately — perhaps too hastily. “I mean, she’s a lovely girl — sweet and beautiful and… Maybe under other circumstances, if I wasn’t just passing through…” If I was a different, better man, he thinks — just another thing he can’t say.

David huffs again. “Well, just… be careful.”

“Aye. I will.”

———

He’d promised David he’d be careful, but he never promised he’d stay away — even if he maybe should have. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s 7pm, and while he ought to stay away, he’s back sitting in Granny’s booth yet again.

Emma doesn’t even ask tonight — just brings him a pot of tea, their own little routine that Killian hadn’t realized that they’d fallen into.

“What else can I get you?” she asks, pen poised and ready to take his order.

He hasn’t even looked at the menu, truthfully, and it seems foolish to frantically scan now. “What would you recommend?” he asks instead.

“Granny makes a mean lasagna.”

“I’ll take that then,” he replies with a smile, tucking the menu back away behind the napkin holders from where it had been resting on the table. 

“Can I get you anything else?” She smiles back. 

Just that little gesture makes him bold, gives him the courage to ask a little more. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the company, if you’ve got the time.” Just as soon as he speaks the words, his bravery flees again. “Only if you’d like to, of course, I’d never presume — ”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” she replies with a laugh. “I’m off in an hour, we can chat a little after that.”

The lasagna is just as good as promised, but Killian doesn’t remember most of the taste, spending an anxious hour anticipating Emma sliding into the booth. It’s still hard to believe his eyes when she finally does, slipping across the vinyl with a small plate of pie so casually like it’s a habit of theirs. Killian feels like his heart is about to thunder out of his ears, but she looks undisturbed — happy and confident and calm. God, he envies her for that calm right now.

“So, we meet again,” she teases, nudging the plate his way. Chocolate meringue tonight — an excellent choice in Killian’s opinion, not that that matters for much of anything. What’s more, there’s two dessert forks propped against the edge of the ceramic saucer. Clearly, and for some reason Killian can’t begin to imagine, she intends for them to share — and damn if that doesn’t put a nervous flutter in his stomach to match his frantic pulse.

“We meet again,” he echoes. “You’re off for the evening, then?” It’s a stupid question, something he realizes as soon as the words leave his mouth; she’d said she’d join him once she was off work for the night, and now here she is. It doesn’t take an idiot to connect the dots… and yet here he sits. 

Angel that she is, she thankfully doesn’t hold it against him. “Yep. No more night shift until Monday. No book tonight?”

“I tucked it away before you came back,” he admits. Lord, he’s even blushing to talk to her — can already feel the heat in his ears. “If I didn’t say it earlier, thank you for lunch today. I’ll pay up tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emma says, waving her fork through the air in dismissal. “David’s got a tab, I just tucked it on there. Trust me, a ham sandwich is not going to put him into financial straits.”

“Thank David, then,” he grins cheekily, in a burst of confidence. As he and Emma settle into conversation, speaking becomes easier, some of his old surety trickling back into his voice.

“Oh, we’ll be sure to,” she grins right back. He’d almost say she looks a little mischievous, and though he probably should have expected that from a younger sibling, that doesn’t mean he expected it from Emma Swan.

(He likes it — the way it makes her a little less perfect and a little more real.)

“I had assumed you were born and raised in Storybrooke,” he comments as he swipes a bite of pie with his fork. “So when you said you hadn’t been any further than Portland…”

“It’s because I grew up there, yeah,” she nods.

“So how did you end up in Storybrooke, then?”

The smile is less happy this time. “It’s not exactly a happy story,” she tells him. 

“I’ve got time and rum,” Killian offers, earning a disbelieving look in return.

“Seriously?”

Quickly, he pulls the flask out of the inner pocket of his coat. It’s a terrible habit, and he knows he shouldn’t, but on nights when nothing else helps, sometimes the alcohol can help relax him enough to find sleep. 

“You’re a regular pirate, aren’t you?” she teases as she plucks the flask from his hand.

“Can’t say I’ve been accused of that before.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” She punctuates the statement with a swig from the flask, pulling a face as the alcohol hits her throat. “Whoo, that’s got a kick.”

“Well, it is rum, darling,” he teases back. “If you wanted something gentle, you should have asked for tea.”

“Hot chocolate,” she mumbles. Really, Emma looks quite fetching with her cheeks tinged blush pink. Not that it makes her mumblings make more sense.

“Come again?”

“Hot chocolate,” she repeats more clearly. “That’s my preferred drink. I like sweet stuff.”

You’re the only ‘sweet stuff’ I see here. The quip is on the tip of his tongue; he could just let it slip off. But that would be flirting, and it wouldn’t be fair to her to open that box. Besides, he promised David that nothing would happen. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says instead. “But I think you might be deflecting, love.”

“I know,” she sighs.

“You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to —”

“That’s not the issue,” she interrupts. “I’ve got rum, you’re a good guy, it’s completely common knowledge… it’s fine. Just hard to get started.” She takes another swig of the rum; maybe he should order her one of her precious hot chocolates to temper it. “The gist is, I grew up in an orphanage in Portland. I was left at a church as a baby and stayed in the orphanage until I was fostered out when I was fourteen. Someone knew someone who knew Ingrid, who was willing to take in a teenager to help her out, and I ended up in Storybrooke.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Swan.” And he is; it’s not just pretty words. He’s been through similar, and it’s not something he’d wish on anyone.

She shrugs. “It’s fine. I mean… it’s not, but it got me here, which was the best case scenario. And Ingrid was… amazing. Just this no-nonsense woman who owned a little ice cream shop. She was soft-spoken, but you didn’t mess with her. She only died two years ago now.”

“You must miss her.”

“I do. She was… really good to me. I was really lucky that she took me in.” Emma smiles softly at the memories. “I met Mary Margaret at school — she was Blanchard, then, not Nolan — and David… I don’t even know how. He’s a year older than us. In this town, though, you get to know everyone without even trying, and sometime around when Mary Margaret and David started dating, he started treating me like his little sister. It’s kind of annoying, honestly.”

“But nice,” Killian points out. He knows that from experience.

The barest hint of a laugh joins the fond smile Emma’s worn the whole time she’s spoken of the Nolans. “Yeah. Nice too.”

“I was in a… not dissimilar situation,” Killian says as casually as he can, twiddling his leftover tea spoon just for something to do with his hands. “My mother died when I was about eight, and my father wasn’t much interested in playing that role. Just took off. After that, my brother and I got shuttled off to a never-ending series of great-aunts and distant cousins and the like.”

“At least you had family to start with,” Emma comments mournfully.

“True. But at least you ended up with one in the end.”

That brings the smile back. “I did. I take it that it wasn’t the same for you? What about your brother?”

Killian makes a conscious effort not to freeze up again, to relax the tension from his body and answer her. She’s revealed a lot of herself to him, here at this booth; it’s only right that he be willing to do the same. 

“He’s gone, I’m afraid,” he manages to say, even mustering a sad smile and tilt of the head to try and show that it’s alright. It’s not, but Emma doesn’t deserve to feel like he’s angry about telling her. “Joined the Navy when the war started up and died in a German submarine attack.”

“I’m sorry, Killian.” She reaches across the table to squeeze his hand in comfort.

“It’s alright.” It’s still not, but that’s what you say to such things. “That just means I’m all on my own.”

Emma squeezes his hand one more time before releasing it. “I’m sure you’ll find a family some day, even if you have to make your own.”

And Lord, he hopes that she’s right.

———

“You’re not still sleeping on that bench, are you?” David asks, startling Killian. He had been, actually; in fact, David had woken him up. Most days, Killian is up and waiting by the time David gets to the garage, but he’d had a good night’s sleep for once, and apparently not woken up in time. Either that, or David has arrived early. Either way, he’s been caught in the proverbial act. 

“Where else would I be?” Killian retorts as he hurriedly puts himself back together, slipping his leather jacket back on and grabbing his bag from where it’d been serving as a make-shift pillow.

“Settle down, Jones,” the other man soothes, lifting his hands in surrender. “No need to get defensive. I just figured you would have checked into one of the rooms at Granny’s Inn.”

Killian tries to settle some of his instinctive snappish reaction; he knows it’s just from embarrassment at being caught like this. “Ah, well, if the weather turns foul, I will. As long as the nights are pleasant, though, I’d rather save the money, I don’t have that much on me.”

“You should have said something,” David scolds. “You could have slept on the couch in the garage. I’ve got a spare key you could use.”

Killian stares at him in bewilderment for a moment. “You’d trust me to do that?”

David shrugs. “Of course. Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

“I mean, most wouldn’t. It’s no offense to you mate, it’s just… folks don’t usually trust a stranger who looks the way I do in small towns like yours.”

“The way I see it, there’s been plenty of opportunities for you to rob me blind already. Especially since I’ve trusted you with the cash register. And you haven’t. Will that change if I let you sleep on something inside and cushioned?” David asks with a knowing look on his face.

“Of course not.”

“That’s what I thought. You’ve been here on that bench for nearly a week, and I don’t want to think about how long you’d been doing the same before that. Besides, if you’re working for me, I’ll get better work from you well-rested,” he winks. 

“I’d hate to be a bother —”

“I can grab the spare key from the house over lunch. Let me do a nice thing for you, Killian.”

And Lord help him, he accepts.

It’s more than just a couch, too — it’s pillows and several crocheted afghans and a volume of detective stories, all courtesy of Mrs. Nolan, when David comes back from lunch with the key. He feels welcomed in a way that he didn’t expect when he went to sleep last night — let alone at this time last week.

Killian goes through the day with… if not happiness in his heart, then something close. He and David were able to finish a major repair this afternoon, he’s got a place to sleep, and he’d spent a lovely evening at the diner with Emma, where she’d brought him a pot of tea without him even asking and later a serving of meatloaf to go with it. They’d talked until after eleven at night about anything they could think of — favorite novels, stories of David as a teenager, places they’ve always wanted to see, until Killian couldn’t justify loitering any longer as Emma worked the night shift. It’s perfect, even if he has to ignore the flutter of feelings growing in his heart.

He should have known, though, that things were just a little too good to last. 

Killian walks back to the garage with a feeling he might almost call hope rushing through his veins. Hope for what, he’s not sure; he certainly can’t think of any reason that should warrant it. Hope, maybe, that there are still people out there capable of seeing past what they believe of him: the loner, the tramp, the ungrateful bastard who won’t just take their pretty words. Hope that someone thinks he might still be a good man, an ordinary man.

(The voice in his brain whispers that maybe he just hopes that Emma sees him that way, the first person in what feels like ages not to look at him with suspicion for even a moment and to treat him with kindness just for the simple sake of being kind.)

(It’s amazing, the way a perfectly uneventful night can sink into his soul.)

In retrospect, perhaps that was the folly — an overabundance of happiness and hope. He should know better than to think that everything can go his way in more than a momentary way.

The problem comes when he attempts to get back into the garage. He has a key, of course, thanks to David, but that doesn’t change just how dark it gets in this corner of Maine, every single star visible but not the deadbolt. There’s a streetlight on the corner, but that doesn’t do much good when Killian’s own body is casting a shadow over the lock and he just can’t fit the key to the lock. He’s nearly got it, has got the edge of the key into the slot, when —

Gravel crunches behind him and a sudden beam of light casts right over his silhouette. “Step away from the door, please, and hands in the air.”

~~~~~

Whoops, sorry. Not really. Let me know what you think!

Tagging: @kmomof4, @aerica13, @thisonesatellite, @searchingwardrobes, @let-it-raines, @teamhook, @ohmightydevviepuu​, @optomisticgirl​, @winterbaby89​, @spartanguard​, @scientificapricot​, @snowbellewells​, @welllpthisishappening​, @tiganasummertree​, @captainswanbigbang​, @snidgetsafan​, @thejollyroger-writer​, @profdanglaisstuff​

[midas-or-khaos]

Spirit, Chapter 1

The journey down to the University of Falmouth had been a bloody road trip, rather than the drop off it was meant to be. Getting up at around the same time you’d usually go to bed, the two of them were at wits end, bags under their eyes so deep and purple you’d have thought they were weighed down by boulders to get so large. So to say the mother/son duo were at snappy was...

“Fuck me that was a lot of boxes.”

“Stop swearing!”

...A gross understatement.

Not for the first time that day did Bill wonder how his mum was able to hear what he thought were comments under his breath, when most of his life spent back at home she couldn’t hear his bellowing from inside their thin walled, two story house for a towel when he inevitably forgot to get before showering every. Single. Morning. Sod’s law.

Taking a deep sigh, both mother and son looked down the 3x2 meter room, floor littered with boxes of all sizes, and the boy couldn’t help but cringe. This was supposed to be his room for the next year. His home for god sake! Most dog kennels were probably bigger than this. Better furnished too.

“How much was this place?”

“I’m not cheap.” How did she always know what he was thinking?

Still trying to cover his bare arse, the exhausted boy quickly fumbled together an excuse, “I’m just asking for next year so I know what to expect when I have to pay for my own apartment.”

“Don’t lie to me, I know you think this place is awful. My first year, the halls I stayed in were so poorly insulated the toilet water-“

“-Froze over, I know. I’m not taking for granted the insulation, it’s just you can’t deny there’s enough dead skin on that mattress to say there’s probably a colony of something growing in there. Maybe Botulism.”

A light smack hit the back of his arm, turning the peach skin rosy. Ok, he was being too cheeky now, and she wasn’t impressed.

“I’m going to look at the kitchen, start unpacking now so I know it’ll be done before I leave ‘cause I know you won’t do it unless I make you.”

Taking her leave, the boy kept looking at the room, swaying between both feet, a sigh huffing out like like some overworked Victorian steam train as he let his brow hang heavy over his eyes to shade the shitty bleak, full-screen bright sky that dominated most of the year in dreary, coastal areas like his uni. The low ceiling only came to around 6’1/2ft tall, fitting the overall feeling of ‘Sardine tin’, though for the first time in probably forever he was happy to only reach 5’3ft. If he’d been reaching 6ft like most of the people his age, Bill was sure he would’ve been feeling claustrophobic. Still didn’t mean he enjoyed the room, though.

Working up the energy, the smallest box was taken into hand first, and began the tedious process of open, pick out, place, repeat. Contrary to the usual, the whole apartment wasn’t too overheated, and made the work more manageable, meaning once all the clothes were pulled out and hung up, he didn’t have to change out of his long sleeve t-shirt or baggy jeans.

With a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth and a hand scratching cherry, buzzed hair to brush out the accumulated dust, the last and second largest box pulled open held all his art supplies, from a bag of coloured pencils to a tray of oil pastels, seven clean canvases and bottles of acrylic paint (all in different stages of use and decay, the white nearly out) to sponges, rollers and brushes. If you’d heard of it, he probably had it. These were his pride and joy, the reason behind his whole relocating. These next 3 years, he was going to learn how to illustrate professionally. It’d been a pain in the arse to get here, having to do an extra foundation year just to earn the correct amount of points to get in anywhere, but to finally be where he wanted to be (excluding this flat), was a dream come true.

Kneeling down and using care he hadn’t bothered using with his other bits and bobs, each item was lifted out and slid into the square cabinet just under window along the back wall, slotted in together. Silent work, with upmost precision. No more irritating unpacking after this. Just a well needed nap maybe.

The door threw open unexpectedly, slamming into the wall, sending the poor boy up in shock, only to knock o into the unforgiving block of wood making up the overhanging window cill.

“FUCKING HELL!”

“STOP. SWEEEEAAARRRRIIIINNNGGGG!!!!”

Swerving round, venom charged by the unexpected and unnecessary pain, alongside the lack of sleep spat out, “Well maybeeeee if you had KNOCKED like a NORMAL FUCKING HUMAN BEING I wouldn’t have swore when I HIT my HEAD!”

No reply, just the sourest notes pinching her brow and nose. Now she’d fully lost it. Just great. Always quick to offend, painfully slow to forget. She wasn’t going to let this incident go any time soon. The thought clogged his throat and pinched the flame of rage, till all that was left was guilty silence. He’d fucked up.

“...some...of your flat mates have arrived.” Muttered out. Turning round, she briskly left without another word, her footsteps echoing down the stairwell just outside the thin apartment door.

“..,I’m sorry.” Whispered out dejectedly against the silence. Too late, as always. Why couldn’t he control his anger and just hold his breath? So much impulsiveness was becoming irksome even to himself. He didn’t think about swearing negatively, it’s offensiveness never really made sense to him he never directed at anyone. But her constant nagging and his irritability made for dynamite. He’d have to make up for that before she left. God, she was leaving properly today! For months! Was he really prepared for life on his own?

No, he couldn’t think like that, this is what he had worked for. Getting up, giving few quick assuring leg rubs, Bill shook his head to get out any unwanted thoughts and to go find the kitchen. He wasn’t really in the mood to have awkward stranger conversation, but ‘first impressions are always important’ as his mum would say. He supposed she was right, he needed to at least make some friends. The cramped corridor outside only had 5 doors, so it was easy to find luckily, and already there were a couple people and residents hanging around chatting.

“OH! Hi, which are you in?” FUCK, where the hell had she been hiding?!

A regally tall girl sporting the single most neon make up I’d ever seen came unseen from my right, and stood close.

Poor idiot couldn’t help but stare up in awe at the whole display of cyan shadow circling almond eyes and mint lipstick offsetting her natural tan skin and jet black swath hair. She must’ve be studying as a make up or fine artist to have that much knowledge on colour theory and pattern. Shit, shouldn’t stare.

“Oh, sorry, ugh... which room was it...I can’t remember the number but the one just by the entrance to the apartment.”

“That’s room 7.”

“Thank you.” The conversation died. There was a social queue here wasn’t there? Conversations usually carried on longer than this, what was it?

The girl smiled politely, but turned and left to talk to another girl. Bill let out an irate huff. Damn it, once again, a failed attempt at human interaction.

Never mind, try again.

Taking the initiative this time, he walked up to a lone boy this time. Ginger, riddled with freckles, slightly chubby. Tapping his shoulder, the boy turned and Bill tried to give his best realistic smile: eyes crinkled, cheeks full.

“Nice to meet you, I’m-“

“I’m a bit busy, can we talk later?”

Taken aback, all he could say was, “Oh, er, yeah. Sorry.” And he backed off again

2 more attempts and all he was left to do was huff. This was useless! Turning round, the brunette took off with silent footsteps out and didn't look back till he reached his room, sliding the door closed. Hands on the door, Wetness on his cheek. Lifting a hand, he tried desperately to wipe away any sign of tears. This was stupid, why was he so bad at social interaction? All he had to do was respond, like other people normally do... but how do people know what to say when there’s nothing interesting in common? Who talks about the weather and sports as a proper conversation?!

No, he couldn't cry here, anyone could hear him though these thin door. The bed seemed a more inviting place to calm down; covered, warm, maybe decrepit and creaky but it was the best he had, so no time like now to jump in. So that’s what he did, and it took a good hour, but the ache of anxiety that he hadn’t noticed had been building up in his chest earlier, finally drained away under the covers till he could at least stop his tears from falling. A year apart from familiarity and family was more daunting thought than it had been ever before.

A light knock sounded out. Hastily the covers were ripped back and hopefully now enough time had passed that his eyes weren’t puffy from all the rubbing. Mum walked in and a btech version of his earlier smile came out, probably pained looking. She looked slightly less upset than before, but still sported piercing hawk eyes. For all their disagreement, the boy didn’t want his last link to home on a sour note, so took his chance, and spoke up, trying to make amends for earlier, “Mum, thank you for dropping me off. I’m so sorry for acting stupidly, I was tired and in pain, and should’ve been calmer. I’ve unpacked everything and what not so I can take you out for a meal like you said earlier if you want?”

No immediate response, just the same prolonged eye contact, up until she let out a sigh. Was that a resentful sigh or a sigh of forgiveness?Oh how he hated being unable to understand subtleties.

“It’s alright, just please try to understand this from my point of view. Your an adult and people won’t appreciate you swearing around them when you work professionally, so just please try to make an effort to stop. For both our sakes.”

She was being lenient this time. She too wanted to leave on good terms. “I know, I’ll try and stop swearing so much.” A lie, but his swearing was habitual now, so it wasn’t going to change any time soon.

“I’d love to go out, but I’m already meeting a friend in town. You know Sandra right? Well she’s come up from Exeter to meet me, so I can’t miss that. Maybe tomorrow morning before I leave to Manchester?”

Why did it have to be tomorrow?

“Sure. See you tomorrow.”

“Alright see you tomorrow. Try and make an effort to make friends please?”

His Mum blew a kiss and left on good terms, so at least now Bill knew his mind could be at rest not worrying over an awful departure. His whole face dropped at last, overexerted by false emotion. If he hadn’t felt drained before, he sure as hell was now. What the hell his expression must luck like now was unbearable to think about. The covers came back over, but this time it wasn’t coming back off till tomorrow. Screw getting into pyjamas, fuck making friends, piss off outside world. All he needed now. Was rest.

————————————————————————————————————————

...Cold...

...coooolllllddddd???…

...Where were his covers?...

...why could he hear wind?

Head pulled up and eyes forced open, Bill was greeted by a yellowing sea of grass. Only, this grass...was seven times his height..

...what in the actual fuck? Elephant grass?

Shit, a winter gust blew up the back of his shirt and crawled into his skin, the force throwing him face down back into the ground. Shit, he needed to get to shelter. But where the fuck would shelter be in a field of grass?! Isn’t this stuff supposed to be the shelter! And more to the bloody point, where even the fuck was he! Was this some sort of shit joke played by someone in his flat or something?

Getting up properly this time, adrenaline pumped out by his rude and impromptu awakening, the boy grabbed the edge of his shirt to keep it down and hunched over as he began to walk forward. Obviously he was automatically lost, but he was balls deep in this shit show now so nothing better to do. Ughhhh Just one foot in front of the other COME THE FUCK ON. There’ll be shelter at some point. Thank god it wasn’t muddy, otherwise he’d be stuck here forever. Would be like walking through tar. Looking up through the arching tips of the leaves, the sky was the same blinding, blanket white as yestrday, no sun at all. It could very well rain soon if the clouds decided to turn grey. That spurred him onward. The winds kept on beating down, nearly knocking him down without warning at irregular intervals so he was constantly on his toes, and the uneven ground was a bitch to deal with. Ugh, now he understood what his mum was going on about “too much swearing”.

Something felt especially wrong about this situation. Obviously waking up in an endless field of grass was completely out of the ordinary, but the world felt.. out of proportion. The cracks in the earth which should have been minute, barely feel able, yet these were the more like small trenches, the size of gutters. On top of that the elephant grass was decidedly less woody, and reached higher than anything he’s seen before. Was this actually a joke?

Over the gale, was that. It WAS. Murmurs over the utterances of the wind; there were others out here too!

“HHHHHHEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!”

The murmurs stopped, YES they’d heard him.

“HHHHHHEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!”

“AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”

...who responded to a hey with ‘arghhh’.

But more importantly...how in the hell were they so loud? Would it be a good idea to be found by someone he didn’t know the intentions of? An extra large gush smacked the back of his head, thin, neon red fuzz doing nothing to stop the icy chill gripping his skull and adding to the overall painful exhaustion that was going to take the waning strength of blueing limbs. There was no choice left.

“HHHHHHEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY, I’M OVER HEREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!”

No shout this time thank god, his ears couldn’t take that again. Legs shaking, feet black and blue in his trainers, Bill was desperate for them to arrive soon.

THUMP THUMP

What was that?

THUMP THUMP

WHY THE FUCK WAS THE GROUND SHAKING?!

The earth tremors kept coming, and the boy couldn’t stand any longer, falling to his knees and gripping the strands around him with white knuckles. They were getting closer. They couldn’t be earthquakes. Something huge was approaching. Nonononononohejustsighedhisdeathwarrentandnowwhateveritwaswascomingtocollect-

The thumps stopped directly in front of him and a shadow fell over. He’d been seen. Looking straight up through the light canopy, staring straight down at him, was a face.

A gigantic.

Bearded.

Middle aged.

Face.

...Not a point of pride. Bill fainted.

(AN:- a repost from my other account cus it isn’t working properly)

[isolaradiale]

With the autumn season well settled in by now, the local fauna was already getting ready for the harsher, colder days up ahead. If one was particularly interested in nature, they might notice the creatures around them making preparations…and when they started to stop. In the days leading up, something had been putting the animals on edge, a subtle difference at first, but still there if you cared to see it.

Those who have lived here all their lives noticed first; they knew their island better than any outsider, after all. They, too, became more closed off and tight lipped, not unfriendly but curt, as if mentioning the change would invite some grave consequence—something akin to paranoia.

And then suddenly it was difficult to spot a roaming animal at all. The squirrels did not run, the deer did not frolick, the bees stayed in their hives. Even the notoriously loud Boombirds were eerily silent, perched at the tops of the tallest trees. The wind settled, and an ominous silence blanketed the city.

It would stay like this for several hours until the first time the unique ward animals gave off sudden warning sounds. The boombirds and radiocats sounded out with warbled, glitchy tones instead of music, netpup screens showed only static, and faxfoxes printed out reams of blacked out, redacted text. People looked to them, curious and afraid. When they looked back, they weren’t in Spirale anymore...not as it was.

What they saw now was a ruined city from any number of possible and terrible futures. Crumbling buildings, streets covered in ash, or nature having overgrown all that was unnatural. But no two people saw the same ruin; each person had their own personal interpretation of what the city could look like after an unknown disaster. However, each city held similar monsters.

They looked like television static given form and cast under a shadow, their outlines shifting and inconsistent and their bodies seemingly without any depth to them. From their silhouettes, some looked human. Others looked like quadrupedal dogs, or birds, or even giant mammoths lumbering through the streets.

Some people ran. Others stood still and looked around, confused, only to be taken down by seemingly nothing at all moments later. Spirale’s animals quieted again. They gave their signal. Everything else was in the citizens’ hands.

SO… WHAT’S THE DEAL?

This might be a bit tricky to explain, so please bear with me! Essentially, what happens after the warning signals is this: everything that is in your muses field of view at that moment stays the same. But as they look around, once something leaves their field of view, it is instantly and seamlessly transformed into the city as it could be after some apocalypse-esque scenario. And there’s weird static monsters.

IT’S A HALLUCINATION, RIGHT?

Oh no, not at all. It’s very real! Everything you touch in the ruined city is actually there for you, every monster you see can hurt you, etc. There is no way to “break the spell” so to speak and see the real world because, as far as your muse is concerned, that is the real world now.

DOES EVERYONE SEE THE SAME RUINED CITY?

No! In fact, everyone sees a completely unique ruined city. To go off of briefly mentioned examples in the story, Muse 1 might see a building covered in vines and moss, half rubble and utterly abandoned. Muse 2 might look at the same building and see a wooden flame currently ablaze with smoke billowing out of it. In some cases, one muse might not see anything at all! The effect does not happen to everyone each time, so some people will still see the city as normal.

The only way to know what another muse sees is to have them tell you in some way. The general layout of the city will be the same, though; the streets will be in the same places, the oceans will not have moved, and the hole in the center is ever present and inviting as always. Otherwise, you are free to use your imagination when it comes to what happened to your city!

DOES EVERYTHING ABOUT EACH CITY HAVE TO BE DIFFERENT, THOUGH? CAN SOME THINGS BE THE SAME?

While there should be no obvious and major similarities between two worlds, it’s fine if you want you and your thread partners worlds to share some things. Two roads can both be covered in rubble or debris, for example (though one might be covered in concrete and rebar and the other covered in fallen trees? Who knows!) or maybe both worlds have the same wall covered in scalable vines. It’s up to you, as long as each city is undeniably unique overall.

HOW DOES INTERACTING WITH THE WORLD WORK IF TWO PEOPLE DON’T SEE THE SAME THING?

It’d work about as silly and weird as you’d expect. If Muse 1 sees a wall covered in vines, like the example above, they can climb the vines just fine, but if Muse 2 has no vines in their world, they would see them scaling either a bare wall, or nothing at all if they don’t see a wall there at all. Basically, to one muse, it would look like one was just a scarily good mime.

ARE THE MONSTERS HOSTILE, AND CAN THEY BE KILLED?

They are very hostile, and will attack anyone they see on sight. They can be killed, but they are more durable than you’d expect, and the bigger the monster the more of a beating they can take before finally being taken down. You’ll probably need more than a simple sword or gun to deal with them unless they’re very small. However, even superhuman muses might have some trouble, due to one small detail…

Every monster can see everyone no matter which alternate city they come from.

A monster from Muse 1’s city can and will attack Muse 2, but Muse 2 will not be able to see the monster in return. To Muse 2, it’s as if they are being attacked by nothing, while Muse 1 will see that, obviously, there’s a weird glitchy dog thing pouncing on them! So it’s up to you to help or defend them. Or leave them to die as bait, if you’re feeling not so nice today. Just be careful, because they are your main defense against monsters from their city as well.

However, there is a caveat, a small saving grace if you want to call it that. For the monsters from someone else’s city to notice your muse, their muse must interact with yours. If the other muse is not aware of your muses presence at all, their monsters will not notice you either. That said, it only takes something as simple as a passing glance, or for them to hear your footsteps...

HOW MANY MONSTERS ARE THERE, THEN?

There’s enough that they can’t be disregarded completely, but not enough to where you will always see one. You’re not going to have to constantly fight or be worried about one right behind you, but if you wander more than a mile or so from your starting point, you can expect to find at least one or two. That is, if you are alone. If you get yourself roped into the business of a bunch of other muses (whether intentionally or otherwise), you can expect to deal with a lot more. But you might also get lucky and never encounter a single one! Lucky you!

HOW LONG DOES THIS EFFECT LAST?

This alternate city effect lasts anywhere from 6 to 12 hours for your muse. Within that time frame, it can fade, with the same seamless transition from earlier but in reverse where suddenly everywhere you look is back to normal. It can happen again and again and again, though, each new time accompanied by more warning signals from the ever helpful animals of Spirale and, if you want, a new ruined city. Of course, just because the effect wears off for you doesn’t mean it has for everyone. You may still need to watch your back.

THIS SEEMS LIKE A BIT MUCH…

It definitely can be, but it’s okay if you’d rather make your participation on the lighter side of things! Remember, your muse doesn’t even need to be affected in the first place. Likewise for your thread partner! If you’d rather your muse not be put into such an anxiety inducing situation, you’re free to have them simply react to everyone else acting strange. Or if you still want to incorporate the ruined city stuff, you can simply say they did not encounter any monsters… it’s totally plausible that could happen. It’s up to you! As much as the event is meant to be a spooky Halloween experience for your muses, we don’t want to make any muns themselves uncomfortable and unable to participate.

That’s it! If there’s any confusion or other unanswered questions, don’t hesitate to ask the masterlist for a little clarification. This event will end on November 8th at 12:01am.

[offrankies]

Breakfast at Graham's || Marley, Graham & Frankie

Timing: Sometime last week. Parties: @detectivedreameater, @grahamstoker & @offrankies Summary:  Meeting your roommate’s fuck buddy is an awkward experience. Especially when there’s screaming cicadas all over the apartment.

It was days like these when Frankie thanked God hadn’t given her supernatural senses, especially enhanced hearing, as Graham seemed to get more action than she had expected when she had first moved in. Like, fine, despite playing for the other team, Frankie could admit that the guy was handsome, but she had assumed that vampires couldn’t get laid for… their lack of blood and what it biologically implied. Maybe Edward getting Bella pregnant wasn’t too insane, after all. Still, nothing had prepared her to be sitting in the kitchen, cereal and milk on the bowl in front of her as she scrolled through instagram, when the faint but constant bug screams she had heard all night suddenly became louder when Graham’s door opened, a muffled groan leaving her lips. She wasn’t going to start to judge her roommate’s kinks and what did it for him (or his partner, for that matter) to get off, or maybe she would in a very silent way with lots of stares; but he could do whatever he wanted in his room, away from the common areas. “Why am I getting punished like this.” She mumbled to herself before a woman appeared on her line of sight, Frankie’s eyes immediately squinting at the bright colors around here. It took her a moment to decipher them: a soft purple that swirled together with blue, tinges of black and red dancing around her, fast jerks pulling it as if something was trying to break loose from it, and her eyes widened in slight panic. She’d never seen an aura move that way. Quickly, she looked down to her bowl, pretending to be very, very interested in the Choco Puffs swimming in there, trying her hardest to ignore the damn bugs and the colors that were visible from the corner of her eye. 

Marley had been hitting up Graham more and more lately, and though she didn’t mind, she also didn’t want to stop and think about why. Staying the night usually wasn’t her style, but he was a vampire, and his endurance definitely outlast hers. So here she was, waking up in a foreign bed, in a foreign house, next to a cold body. Anita was always cold, too, but Marley remembered how soft and warm she’d been when they’d woken up in her room together. Forcing the thought from her mind, Marley sat up and grabbed her shirt and a pair of random shorts, throwing them on before heading out into the living room for coffee. At least she could grab a cup here before heading home to change for work. But when she got into the kitchen, there was a girl sitting at the table. Blase as ever, Marley moved past her quickly and over to the coffee maker. “You’re uh-- the roommate, right?” she asked, pulling the mug out and filling it with water. Aside from pushing numbers on a microwave, making coffee was the only thing Marley knew how to do in a kitchen.

Frankie was stuffing her mouth with cereal in her lame attempt to ignore the woman that looked like she was wearing Graham’s clothes. Don’t judge them, she kept repeating in her mind, but the bugs screaming kept making her eyes move from the bowl to the hallway, and then back to the bowl, and then back to the hallway. To say she choked on the cereal when the other walked past her, the bugs suddenly screaming on her brain, was an understatement. Milk ran down her chin and she started coughing. It was moments like this when she wondered why God had punished and not made her a normal person with no anxiety and definitely with no abilities to read auras. “Uh-- Roommate, yeah, I am.” Are you the girlfriend? She wanted to ask, considering how often Graham had tried to kick her out because she was coming over. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she tried to continue eating, trying her hardest to ignore the weird ass sound. “I’m, uh, Frankie.”

The girl was...weird, to say the least. Choking on her cereal, averting her eyes-- it was clear she had some form of major anxiety, but that wasn’t Marley’s problem. She had no shame in her sex life, and she certainly didn’t believe in the fabled “walk of shame”. Sticking the pot back into the maker, she poured the grounds in and pushed the on button. “Well, nice to meet you, then, Roommate Frankie,” she said, leaning back against the counter. The girl was staring at her with wide eyes, even as she tried to finish her cereal and pretend she wasn’t staring. But Marley was an expert on human behavior, and she noticed everything. “You can call me Marley,” she finally said, tilting her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t worry, once my coffee is done, I’ll let you eat your cereal in peace.”

The kitchen floor was definitely not swallowing Frankie fast enough. Her cheeks quickly heated and turned a bright red, her whole body radiating embarrassment. “Just, uhm, just Frankie.” She had to admit how badass the other woman looked though, moving through the kitchen like she was the actual person living there and not herself; and in other circumstances, specifically in one that didn’t involve kinky bugs, Frankie would’ve found herself showing more interest in her. Her head nodded slightly, leaving her spoon fall on the empty bowl. “Nice to, uh, meet you.” Marley was awfully confident, and she wondered if she hadn’t realized how loud the sounds were, and that she could still hear them. Her eyes opened even wider if that was possible, and she shook both her hands in front of her. “Oh, no no no no, please, take your, uh, time. Rushed breakfasts suck.”

Marley idled for a moment. While she hardly had shame or guilt, she didn’t exactly interact with people-- or roommates of her fuck buddies-- all that often. Ff ever. Anita lived alone and Jane was, well...Jane. Pausing, she shrugged. “I don’t really eat breakfast,” she said, shuffling around. Whoever this Frankie was, Marley wasn’t sure she liked the way her eyes kept widening when she looked at her. But, Marley could remember being 18 and on her own, struggling in a world that wanted to beat her down and silence her. Everything was always loud and new and scary, even when you could turn invisible. And she doubted Frankie could turn invisible. “Graham is good to you, right?” she asked. “Cause I told him I’d kick his ass if he wasn’t.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” A mechanical response, though Frankie didn’t really mean it and understood that the most important meal wasn’t for everyone. Her grandmother usually skipped breakfast too despite her best efforts to bring her trays with bacon and eggs, and her loyal cup of tea. The question about Graham made her mouth form a perfect ‘o’, before she erupted in laughter. Her mind wrapped around all the text messages  he sent her telling her to take care, to get home at a decent hour, and to not be a dumbass online. Though she sincerely doubted a normal person could take down a vampire, her words still warmed her up. “Oh, no, he’s great. I actually think he, uh, cares more than my actual dad. Thanks for the backup though.” Bugs or not, this Marley person seemed nice. She guessed you can’t judge a person by their kinks. “If he’s nasty to you I can help you kick his ass.”

“Eh, sounds fake to me,” Marley said in a blasé tone, shrugging. Then again, she didn’t 100% understand human diets, and she didn’t need to. It was their behavior she was concerned with, not their diets. Marley only needed to feed once or twice a week, it must’ve sucked to have to eat multiple times a day every day. Who had time for that? “Well, good,” she said, turning back towards the cabinets to rifle around for a mug. Didn’t quite know how to approach the dad comment, but it wasn’t her business, and she wasn’t going to pry. Mostly because she just didn’t care. “Oh, don’t worry about me, kiddo,” she said, finally finding the cabinet with the mugs in it and pulling one out. “I can handle shitty men. Though, for the record, Graham is on the less shitty end of shitty men,” she said in what she hoped was a teasing tone. Sometimes her voice made it sound serious. “I’m kidding, of course. He’s a good guy.” When he wasn’t accidentally biting you, she thought with a grin.

Both her elbows were resting on the table now, Frankie’s hands cupping her own face as she took a nice look at the woman’s aura when she wasn’t looking. It had been easy to grow accustomed to it; not thanks to the weird jumps that made her stiffen or shift on her seat in surprise, but because the colors weren’t nearly as bright as those of a normal person. The blue being the cause, definitely. Someone who keep things to themselves. Like the fact that she likes the sound of bugs to get off in bed. Her lips pressed together as she held in another laugh, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of her thought or what Marley had said, and looked away the second the other turned, her mind elsewhere, thinking about the screaming critters again. “Yeah he’s just has weird as fuck kin----- kicks.” Fuck. “H-His shoes are so weird, r-right??” Oh God. So much for not being judgemental.

Oddly, one of Marley’s biggest pet peeves had always been people who avoided eye contact. Now, of course, there was leeway for certain people, but when Marley looked back and Frankie quickly averted her eyes, Marley couldn’t help but feel a prick of annoyance. What was it about her that made her so jumpy? There was no way it she knew what she was or what she was capable of, just by catching her glance, unless Frankie could read minds. Maybe it was just because of the awkward implication this presented. Anyone who had a brain would know that the strange woman in your kitchen with your roommate’s pants on had probably fucked them last night. Marley was sure she’d feel awkward about that, too. And so, she decided to cut the poor girl some slack. “Weird shoes?” raised a brow. “Can’t say I’ve noticed that. He’s not usually wearing anyth-- shoes-- any shoes when I’m around. Cause, you know,” she shrugged, “we’re inside.”

If she had any cereal left, she would be choking on it for the second time in ten minutes. Once more, Frankie was wishing for the floor to swallow her whole. Or better yet, the ceiling suddenly crumbling and burying her forever. Her cheeks were red in embarrassment, and she sank on the chair, suddenly very interested in the pattern on the kitchen walls, the bugs continuing screaming almost as if they were mocking her in this whole scenario. “Right. No shoes. Cause uh, shoes are weird. Shoes are overrated anyways” It was then that the teen decided she would spend the night somewhere else every time Graham brought people over, definitely not ready to deal with random people, less alone do small talk with them. Grabbing the empty bowl, she awkwardly made her way to the kitchen sink to clean after herself, but as she got closer the screaming got as loud as when Marley had entered the room, and one eye twitching as she tried to ignore it. Except, she couldn’t anymore. “Hey so uhh can I ask you something?” She leaned against the sink, trying to keep a straight face but it was obvious how much she was struggling. “Do you, uhhh, like bugs?”

“Sup, ladies?” Graham’s voice arrived before he did and shortly after, the man casually strolled down the hall and into the living room, pausing on the other side of the island that separated the two rooms. He had the decency to put on his favorite pair of sleep pants but those were the only article of clothes that hung off his built frame. He was carrying three empty bottles that he set on the counter and glanced between the two of them, immediately picking up on the awkwardness in the room and he raised his eyebrows with entertainment. He hadn’t anticipated Marley being such a consistent partner in bed but he figured he was allowed to have his fun too. He didn’t… THINK they were that loud all the time. He had been really good about not biting too so he earned a nice night with someone who didn’t mind. “Talkin’ about me?” He asked mildly as he tried his damndest not to overhear their conversation as he lay on his back in his room previously.

“Sure, kid, what’s up?” Marley asked, grateful her coffee was finally done and that meant she could drink it fast and then get out of here. All this “stay the morning after” was beginning to make her itch. “Do I like--” she paused, raising a brow, but didn’t get to finish, as Graham’s voice chimed through the hallway and she was suddenly reminded about how vampire’s had super hearing. Frowning, she poured her cup and headed out of the kitchen. “Talk about you? Why would we? There’s so many more interesting things to talk about,” she said in a flat tone, but it was a tease, and the slight curve of her lips gave that away. “Like cereal. Right?”

Frankie’s head snapped when she heard Graham’s voice, and gave him a dead glare, eyes squinting and  lips pressed together in a way that could only be understood as I’m gonna kill you. Why could she still hear the bugs if they were both in there? Were they in kahoots just to bother her? Marley had looked nice, but she could totally see the vampire convincing her to play a prank on her. “Big ego much?” Eyes moved to the woman as she left the kitchen, her features softening with her words. “Yeah- right. Cereal is way more interesting than you.” And your dumbass kinks. Which led her to... “Okay- I had it. Stop that.” Still leaning against the sink, she crossed her arms. “Marley you’re badass. Graham, you suck. Can you stop the bugs now? I don’t- I really don’t care and I wish I didn’t know what you guys…” Her hand made a vague gesture, her cheeks bright red in embarrassment. “Do in bed and shit but-- Keep it in the room? Please?” “It IS in the room!” Graham exclaimed with an emphatic shrug before anything else had time to mull around in his mind. “It’s always been in the room!” He looked between the two women again, wondering what had happened that turned him into the bad guy. He wasn't mad, mind, but kind of confused and a little hurt. “And yes, I DO suck, you know that.” He made a joke at his own expense, knowing full well both of them would understand. “But I’ve never had sex in this apartment anywhere but in my room-- at least with Marley.” He added hastily. “I don’t know what bugs you’re talking about but that ain’t me, sister.” He went around them to the fridge and opened it roughly, rattling the glass bottles in the door before realising he didn’t want anything dead. If anything, it was more to give him something to do. “I have no idea what you guys were talking about, I have no idea why I’m being put on blast and I have no idea how to fix it but y’all trippin’ if you think getting all mad at me is gonna fix whatever’s happening.”

“Woah,” Marley said, sipping her coffee evenly with an unchanging expression, “someone’s spicy in the morning.” This was exactly why she never did stay. Plus, things had gone pretty sour last time she’d stayed the morning with someone, despite the immediate events being nice. It just proved more to Marley why her old method was tried and true. She leaned up against the counter, raising a brow. “Hey, look-- I’m into some admittedly kinky shit, but bugs aren’t it. So whatever you heard, or are hearing, isn’t us, kiddo,” she said, giving a shrug before picking up her mug and taking another hearty sip. As much as she wanted to leave, she was curious, now to see where this conversation would end up. And to see if Graham really was mad about a little light teasing in the morning. Men could be so sensitive sometimes. It was hard reading Graham’s sudden outburst -not that she wasn’t used to them, especially since Layla had crashed with them-, considering Frankie was used to know exactly (or, well, almost) what people’s intentions were just by glancing their auras; and though normally she appreciated the vampire lacking one, it was situations like these that made her infuriated. Pointing an inquisitive finger at him, she pressed her lips together as if she was about to let hell loose on him, but Marley’s words made her stop and look at her. Aura same as before, not even the slightest change of color (and, sadly, it kept moving like it wanted to eat her or something), and it made Frankie wince and drop her hand. “Then why the hell do I hear cicadas screaming specifically every time you’re over?!” Eyes back on Graham, she squinted for a few seconds, before letting out a sigh. “FINE. Whatever. Let’s pretend the teen doesn’t hear the kinky ass bugs.” 

"Bruuuuh," Graham closed the fridge with a lot more care. "I'm not doing a bit here. I have NO idea what you're talking about." His tone was mild, indicating that he also wasn't lying. "I don't hear bugs, I don't hear cicadas, I just hear a teenage girl getting all heated at two consenting adults for having-- a great time in his bedroom," The flare of emotion from earlier was gone; he was now speaking evenly. "Maybe it has to do with your, uh, synesthesia," That's what he had to call it around other people - it seemed close enough to how he perceived aura reading. "Maybe knowing that we're having sex sends your brain messages that psychosomatically associate the activity with sounds of cicadas," He explained, leaning against the counter casually as he absently chewed on the inside of his cheek. "In any case, don't be mad; just talk to me instead of assuming I'm fucking around with you," He chuckled. "If it's a problem then let's see how we can fix it or… At least mitigate it. Because I like having her over so that's not an option every time." It was Graham's turn to give Marley a look accompanied with a wink, almost as if to say 'sorry about my weird teenage roommate'. 

“Relax, kiddo, no one’s accusing you of anything, but I’m kinda with him on this one,” Marley pointed out, still leaning against the counter with her coffee. “It was good,” she corrected, “it was a good time.” Great was perhaps pushing it a little. Not that it wasn’t, but she couldn’t just outright admit that. Great was, well-- someone she didn’t want to think about yet. “Synesthesia? Really?” she raised a brow, wondering if that was their code for “supernatural”. It made sense. Graham was a vampire, after all. A strange one, at that. Only made sense it’d be easier for him to live with another supernatural roommate. Normal humans were probably too tempting. “So what is it, really?” she asked, pushing away from the counter finally and stopping just shy of Frankie. “I’ve never heard of anyone that can hear things from people. See and feel, but not hear.”

Another groan left Frankie as she buried her face on her hands, before slowly dragging her down her face. Sure, she had gotten herself into that conversation, but that didn’t mean she wanted to know more about their sex life than she already knew. Graham’s words made her stop her dramatic outburst, though - if she could potentially hear buzzing from Regan for some reason, could Marley be the source of another sound? It… made sense, in a very insane way. Despite the colors being radically different, they both shared the fact that their auras had weird and scary movements she’d never heard before. “Oh shit.” She whispered, her full attention to Marley, ignoring the fact that Graham had practically outed her. Carefully and almost painfully slowly, she started moving towards the woman. “I, uh, I don’t know, I’ve never heard stuff before? Don’t move--” And why bugs on top of everything? Crap. He had, in a way, been right. The closer she got to her, the louder the screaming got to the point Frankie had to stop and take a few steps back from her to stop the feeling of bugs chewing on her brain, an uncomfortable and confused look on her face. “Uhh- okay-- So not- Not kinky sex bugs--” She turned to Graham looking like she was about to throw up. “Ithinkheraurasoundslikebugs?” “...Well, at east they aren’t kinky sex bugs,” Graham replied mildly, all things considered. “That’s kind of a problem, though... Why d’you think she sounds like bugs?” He asked more in general as though it were a prompt for a class to ponder. He looked over at Marley again; she didn’t seem like she gave off a bug vibe to him but then again, he hallucinated when he drank her blood-- Ooooh could he turn that into a cocktail? THAT’D be fun. Sorry, distracted, back to the topic at hand. “Let’s see… how could we solve this non-kinky bug conundrum,” He hummed, feeling his brow furrow slightly as he legitimately thought about it.”Oh! Have you tried headphones?” He asked.

“Wait, hold on, back up,” Marley said, shaking her head and setting her coffee down, watching as Frankie turned a steady eye on her. Focusing as if she were waiting for something to happen. Marley raised a brow, glancing between the two. “Did she say aura?” She looked back at Frankie, who looked as if she were either about to faint or scream, then over to Graham. “Is she an aura reader?” Because that, well-- that might be a problem. Marley didn’t need some extrasensory teenager knowing that she was a killer. Not that she knew entirely how aura reading worked, but she’d been warned before that aura readers could see into a person’s soul, that they could know if you’d taken a life willingly. And boy had Marley done that. “Headphones, really? That’s your suggestion? Wait-- do you hear auras?”

“No!...?” Could she? No, if Frankie could hear auras her grandma would’ve told her. Unless she couldn’t? No, it was ridiculous, auras could be seen, not heard. But then again Regan… Shaking her head, the human moved her hands in front of her as if cutting the air; a “enough is enough” gesture before pointed at Graham with both her indexes. “Not cool outing me like that.” And then, she turned towards Marley and did the same. “Yes, and your aura is scary as heck and I’m so sorry you sound like bugs for some reason cause you’re super cool.” Now where was her backpack when she needed to run. Never mind her bright pink clothing - she could deal with the embarrassment of running town in her pajamas better than.. whatever was happening in the room. “I don’t think headphones will work so just--” She jerked the front door open. “-- Just tell me next time you come so I can yeet.” And without waiting for a reply, she walked out and almost closed the door, but she opened it slightly, screamed “nice to meet you Marley”, and ran down the stairs before Graham could drag her back inside.

Before the vampire knew what had happened, the teenager said her piece then zipped out the door without even bothering to close the thing behind her. Graham’s blue-eyed gaze followed her, then looked sideways to Marley, giving a small half-shrug. “Sorry ‘bout that,” He half-heartedly apologized, sounding more like he accidentally bought the wrong type of chips. “She’s, uh… a little manic sometimes.” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “For the record, I said synesthesia; she was the one that said ‘aura reading’.” He made sure to clarify. “She sure is sweet, though; we get along well because apparently vampires don’t have auras.” He added, going over to the fridge again and pulling out a bottle of water. “I, uh… get it if that kind of ruined the mood so I’ll do whatever you wanna do,” He said, taking a large swig of the bottle and looking to Marley for a lead.

Before Marley had much of a chance to say anything back, the young girl was bolting from the room, either out of embarrassment or anxiety. Your aura is scary as heck. For some reason, that statement ruffled her. Of course it was, it only made sense. Everything about Marley was scary. She was a monster, after all. But she didn’t like the idea that her aura was so transparent about it. About her. That someone could look at her and know and decide she was a monster without even understanding. She picked up her coffee and finished it off before glancing over at Graham. “She’s a teenager,” she replied evenly, “let her be manic sometimes. Life’s rough in this world as a teenager.” She looked down at the empty coffee cup, then to the open door, then to Graham. “You know,” she shrugged, coming over to him in the kitchen. Pretended to look at a watch that wasn’t on her wrist, “I think you’ll find my mood rather hard to ruin. I’ve got time for a quickie before work.” It was a good distraction, after all.

[sidesandsanders]

How might the guys comfort a sad/anxious s/o? (with dee and remus please?)

Someday I will hug the creativitwins and all will be right with the world.

Roman:

- If it’s a specific event you’re worried about, he asks the one awful question. “What could go wrong?” But the thing is, he actually wants you to tell him how you think it’s going to go wrong, so that he can come up with increasingly more dramatic and ridiculous solutions.

- If that doesn’t work, he’s got strong hugs and all the distracting affection you could ask for. It’s a lot of him trying different kinds of reassurance to see what makes you the happiest, and then coming up with a million different ways to use that until you’re feeling better.

- He’s an extrovert, but if it’s social interaction you’re struggling with, he is absolutely willing to do stuff at home instead of going out, and even when you do go out he tries to make it less stressful. You can’t have crowd anxiety at a play if you’re watching him preform from the private VIP seating!

Logan:

- Statistics. Graphs. Calculations. Math.

- Basically he wants to reason away your fears, which doesn’t always work but it does help some. Say that you’re scared of tarantulas, he’s got a book on arachnid biology and is explaining to you how there’s no such thing as a venomous tarantula, that was made up by Hollywood, and how if you study their behavior, they’re lazy and dramatic.

- Also, Logan’s entire presence makes things seem more ok. He has a certain air of control about him, like he knows what he’s doing all the time, and it’s quite comforting to be close to someone with that aura if you’re worried about life.

Patton:

- Do you want distractions? Patton has distractions. Want some cookies? Or a bunch of pictures of cute puppies? How about a super warm and comfy hug? Oh, he knows! He’s got some cute and funny stories from when the sides were kids!

- Hyper mode has kicked in and he will not stop until you can’t even remember why you were upset in the first place. It’ll be an hour later, you’ll be halfway through a batch of chocolate cupcakes (with sprinkles of course!) with Patton telling you about the time when Roman was a toddler, and he tried to fight a skink because he thought it was a baby dragon.

- Also, hugs. You’re welcome to wear his sweater if you want, but you will have to share it with him. You are both wearing the sweater. It’s our sweater now.

Virgil:

- He’s pretty quiet through the whole thing. If it’s possible to get away from the situation that’s making you upset, that’s his first thought. He’ll grab your hand and gently tug you away from wherever you are, until you’re at the exit and can get home.

- When you’re back he grabs an old MP3 player, offers you one half of the earbuds attached to it, and just kinda sits with you while the music plays.

- He won’t do much in terms of physical stuff unless you initiate or you’ve made it clear before that it helps. If it does, it’s one arm wrapped around your shoulders, nudging your head to lean on him. Maybe if you’re particularly lucky, or he’s got a bit of extra confidence that day, he’ll lean his head back on you too, and whisper at you until you feel better.

- “It’s alright, just relax. Calm down, I got you.”

Deceit:

- I’ve mentioned this before, but comforting lies are his specialty for you. No matter what happens, he’s there to tell you that it’s ok.

- He sasses anyone who worsens your mood to hell and back. One offhanded comment from a bystander and he goes r/murderedbywords on them. I’m talking full speeches, complete with memorable insults and puns for days.

- He tends to try and focus your attention on small things, little details of random things. He’s hoping to find something for you to latch on to so you’ll go on a tangent and distract yourself.

Remus:

- His method of “comforting” is a lot of physical contact, changing the situation to something different, and making himself to focus of attention so you don’t have to worry about anyone looking at you, and you have something else to focus on.

- If you’re alone, he has you in a vice-grip hug, and if that doesn’t seem to be working enough, he’ll hug you with his tentacles too. They’re surprisingly comfy. They just feel like weirdly shaped arms, and strong ones at that. Focus on the muscle patterns of them, it’s interesting and a good way to occupy your mind while you come down.

- He kinda flirts with you, and while some of what he says isn’t exactly what you might want to hear, he’s trying. The idea is to charm you and sweep you off your feet so you forget about what’s making you anxious. Honestly if you’re genuine in your enjoyment of Remus’ company, it probably works.

[mcrmadness]

my ask meme: 1, 5, 10, 12, 14, 21, 26

Thank youuuuuu!!!  These were for this Ask game.

1. What was your first thought this morning? I woke up from a dream that had something to do with some cathuman turning into a werewolf-like cat creature at nights and it never had a memory of it in the daytime, and they often were asleep and we (idk who I was or who the other people were) were going somewhere with a helicopter and wondering how to keep this catperson’s neck from hurting because they had passed out and the helicopter was moving. It was like waking up in the middle of the dream so I was super tired, and then realized I was thinking about a certain episode of The X-Files and thinking how “that was actually a really good episode if you think about it!”

5. What was the last movie you watched? Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And before that we watched Corpse Bride too because we’ve have this Tim Burton movie marathon going with my siblings for the past year probably.

10. What color is the wall opposite you right now? White. Finland has normally just white walls - except for some expensive new houses (or old houses and cottages that can have wooden walls). But there’s a Deadpool poster so that’s nice.

12. Share something you have changed your mind on. You used to think one way, now you think differently. I gotta say: global warming. Or I have never really thought differently, I have been aware of it since I was a teenager (in the mid 00s) but it just caused me so much anxiety and was a part of my first mental breakdown at the age of 15, that I just totally blocked it out of my head. I basically was like “if I don’t think about it, it doesn’t exist”. I have anxiety disorder and as a kid I already had a fear of the news. Hearing the news theme song gave me anxiety attacks and I was always feeling like I need to throw up when I was reading a newspaper and saw the pages with the word “foreign countries” on it and tried my best not to look at anything said on those pages as I skipped them, so that I won’t lose my good night’s sleep. I was often having sleepless nights because of worrying about wars, atomic bombs, UFOs and aliens, planes... Finland has always felt so safe to me so I was so afraid of anything that could happen to Finland because of the foreign countries.

So I was having a mental breakdown when I was 15 and felt like I couldn’t run away from the topic “global warming”. Even my English study book was trying to guilt shame us for the things we did, I had just started wearing jeans the year before and them my English books literally says how I’m destroying the world by wearing jeans. And it was just too much. And then the movie “The Day After Tomorrow” came out and we were supposed to go to see it in the movies with my school and I got my mom to write me a note about how I don’t need to go to see that film, and I never did, because already the thought of the movie caused me even more anxiety. I still haven’t seen that movie, and never will watch it. I don’t like catastrophe movies at all.

So, nowadays I’m more aware of this and I don’t block it anymore, and it doesn’t give me as much anxiety as it did. It’s still a terrible topic but now I actually do what I can do and I tell myself that it’s enough that I try my best, it’s still better and more than nothing. Some days I still do feel very terrible and start having the anxiety from carrying the weight of the whole world’s worries on my shoulders but... in the end, I’m still trying my best. I have been told nothing I do counts because I still eat (organic, local) meat occassionally and people (well, one particular one I don’t talk to anymore...) have been trying to guilt shame me into oblivion because of that. But I do think it still counts that I choose eco-friendly cleaning products over those toxic ones (here also my anxiety plays a part, I have ocd-like contamination fears if I handle toxic cleaning stuff), and the fact I only eat organic meat whenever I eat meat, I buy only organic foods and products when possible, I buy MSC or ASC fish only, and I recycle and try to minimize the amount of water I use (also my water bill won’t be as big then). All these still count, because it’s still better than doing nothing. And it’s more important to listen to yourself because there’s no point in building a world you want if that will kill you in the process.

14. What have you learned from your time on tumblr? Nothing? :D:D:D:D No but, I don’t really have memory of anything from here. Which is weird because normally I do remember too much but with Tumblr? I follow blogs I never remember following and I’ve found old messages from people I don’t never remember interacting with and I have rediscovered a few people I had interacted with but didn’t have proper memory of and it’s just so confusing. I only know that in the beginning I was against reblogging because I wanted to be Different and I thought reblogging was stealing so I did basically nothing unless I had something to say. But then I just... stopped caring and now I reblog too much basically and I only like posts from friends and mutuals, and posts that make me so excited reblogging doesn’t feel enough, and posts that I need to find again soon, which is why I keep my liked page hidden because I don’t want to show my friends’ and mutuals’ personal posts to the world. It’s not my business to do that.

21. How do you decide to follow a blog? I usually follow blogs that reblog lots of things that are interesting to me - usually the key is to have a few posts that make me laugh and you’ve got a follower. I don’t like quiet blogs because I want to see stuff on my dash so if I see someone liking but never reblogging anything, I won’t follow. I also follow blogs that don’t have that interesting content if I’ve been interacting with the person behind the blog and it feels better to be mutuals on Tumblr too.

26. Do you drink tap water or spring/mineral water? Tap water. Finland has the cleanest water in the world so it’s perfectly safe to drink. If I don’t have water with me and need to buy a bottle, I usually buy spring water, tho. I don’t like mineral water but I drink it if I have to work in the summer because horse work is very tough work. Tap water (in Finland) is anyway a little bit better and even healthier than bottled water.

Talking of bottled water, the spring water in the bottles is basically same as the tap water - tap water just goes through the water... facilities but you can actually find small springs from the nature and drink from those, but I’m not actually sure anymore if the “spring water” is just an advertising trick - I don’t believe anyone will be sitting in a forest bottling actual spring water after all. Maybe it comes from actual springs and only from certain areas but like... yeah, idk. Anyhow, I’m googling this now.

[bma-2020]

Okiedok here’s the delio. I have a list of all the blogs from the last six months who’s actively either responded to a meme i sent, responded to a message ive sent, replied to something regarding mally herself, has actually written with me, written a starter for me from my liking a starter call, has at least liked a starter i wrote for them to awknowedge it exists, all that jazz, i have a lot of open field so it’s not just a possible tumblr didnt let them no option anymore, because i send memes to everyone who posts them that i see. I reply to most peoples ooc posts. I like most starter calls I pass by. I try my darndest to actually interact bc i know how it feels to be ignored and its… i’ve been called one before so i’m using the word, thats fluffing cunty behavior, and honestly if you complain about not being interacted with but never even try when i try with you, ya being cunty, end of. I gotta list. That list only entails Mally because she’s who I care about the most. I’m probably gonna start instilling a new rule in all my blogs that if you ignore Mally and/or Darcy( @tasedandconfused ), since I would say they’re my two main blogs tho darcy gets ignored even more than mally does, probably bc i denied canon and left it entirely we know fandom hates that, if either of them is ignored then… Ya out of luck, I’m gonna unfollow you. I’m debating soft blocking everyone who ignored me on both of them but I don’t want to like be mean and deny the chance to eventually try again but at the same time i shouldnt feel bad for taking a stand and saying this is bullsheet, idk my anxiety says im awful for giving a fluff about myself but also i should give a fluff about myself probably, ive nearly died in the last three months, my brain almost exploded, i just had three root canals on one corner of my face, i have to potentially get surgery on my inner ear which i cant even afford, i dont got time to deal with only being used for like smut memes or like as a resource blog or utter bs like that, i dont got time for it. So new rules here. 1: If Mally or Darcy are not acknowledged, written with, responded to, viewed as more than just their fluffing bodies? ya dropped, im unfollowing, potentially soft blocking, which means blocking and unblocking for those not in the know, on all accounts I follow you on. Every single one. I know most of my muses are on sideblogs but despite not being able to send memes from sideblogs you can block people from sideblogs fun fact, i will do that if i have to. 2: I’m gonna be posting SCs, PCs, memes, etc. I like and respond to plotting calls, starter calls, i send memes, all of that. If I don’t get any response within.. I’m giving one week for people who don’t run on a queue and a month and a half to people on a queue based system, if i dont get anything within that time like at least an im being like ‘its posted’ or ‘its queued i wanted to let you know in case tumblrs a fluffbutt’ (i do this sometimes if i dont get even just a like on the starters i post so i at least know people saw it since i know tumblrs bs, i wait until the day they’re active to do so in case theyre busy yknow) basically i need acknowledgment at all. No you can’t claim this is abt follower count bc when you unfollow someone they inevitably unfollow you too, thats gonna drop my following, not as quickly as soft blocking would but i wanna be fair i guess, which leads to: 3: I’m basing this on your activity too, like if i like a think and you’re gone for a month after that its fine, im not gonna unfollow you unless you never come back or youre online and posting others just not mine because that tells me youre specifically ignoring me and im gonna drop you for that end of. I’m done with the bullsheet im done w the dillish behavior, i love friendship but if im giving and never receiving thats extremely one way and not gonna work. I check through my follow list weekly and i go back about five-10 pages on someones feed before i unfollow them to see their actual activity and see if theyre here or if its a q so. I’m thorough basically. 4: You dont have to be active with me on all your blogs, i mean i’d prefer it but thats hard as fluff so essentially if you have like five blogs and are just like trying w me on two or three thats fine. Ten blogs, four or five with at least a plot formed is cool. Multis just one muse is all I’d need. I’m not gonna unfollow the blogs youre not writing w me on if you at least write w me on some. Again, specifically Mally and/or Darcy. If you ignore both of them, we’re done. I havent been active on darcy because of being ignored and its a huge butt mess and im just tired i wanna use my babies, you don’t get to have my ‘better’ muses like i know a lot of ppl only follow me for my boys or my villains, you don’t get them if you ignore my baby. But, there is a limit there too. 5: If you never respond to a meme or thread even once with Mally or Darcy, or post a starter, i reply, its never replied to again after a month, I’m unfollowing and/or soft blocking for that too. Bc that means youre just raising my hopes to fluff with me or get someone else and honestly, youre even more cunty than than the people just flat out ignoring me if you do that. And this isnt a specific person, this is five of the people actually on my list. Yes, my list is also annotated with specifics again I was very thorough on this yesterday, I hyperfixated I’ll admit it, I’m in a fluffing depressionary bubble and being told to get over it because people want something they dont deserve to have to. I am a believer that people deserve good things but if youre purposefully being cunty… no you dont. 6: No I’m not releasing my list, maybe I will and I’ll omit the urls because I don’t want people being buttholes to each other too but otherwise, yall not seeing it im not giving a callout because… really thats just unnecessary here. I don’t think yall are toxic people or something i just think yall are unintentionally being cunty. And no I don’t mean everyone that follows me i mean the ppl that add up to what i’ve documented so far and fit the bill of butthat that i’ve shown, its behaviors yall gotta check before ya wreck. Yes there will be some people who have priority, everyone has those people, I write w kathryn on other platforms since she doesnt go on here as often but when Kathryn returns from war here (if she does cause she also agrees most ppl on this platform are cunty, i feel really bad saying that word so often but im gonna keep doing it i recently deleted an ask saying I was a huge cunt for not sending someone smut memes when I didn’t even follow them or know they existed so, again the travesty of this place is nutballers) same with owly, alex is here too, my most active partners are always going to be priority because theyre the ones who show the most interest and the most care. I understand that with others as well which is why I have the timeframe set up, because I want to be as open and shizz as possible while atill being firm i guess. I don’t want to have extreme double standards like its impossible for double standards not to exist at least a little bit but I want to avoid a golden chest full of them I guess. 7: I don’t have a seven rn, this was an even number and it bothered me. Seven is nust my warning that I’m bittery writing this on mobile so formatting is not real but i tried my dandest to make this look like something people might actually mind. I dont want to be butty, i dont want to be awful, i dont want to start drama or have drama but that shizz comes around anyways so i might as well make my space as okay for me as i can cause im supposed to avoid stress so my brain doesnt almost explode again, like again i almost fluffing died i dont need ppl fake being my friend or anything, i want stuff to be real and clear. I want to be happy to be on here again and have fun like i used to since my health is plummetting and I’m not allowed to go outside near plants by myself anymore because i welt up. I have plants outside my work place and im surrounded by chemicals all day long I’m welted from here to new york constantly and never comfortable in my own skin because of it and constantly see people online acting like these actual real problems are pretentious because ‘its an excuse’ when, im a fluffing sagittarius, do you know how much i want to magically be a millionaire so i can pay for friends and my own medical stuff and go on traveling and adventures, be outside probably not camping bc as a pagan i know thats a death sentence but like be outside, lay on grass, go back to swimming because i used to swim competitively and due to health reasons i can barely even go in a pool anymore because theres too much sunlight which, bit plot twist i know, im fluffing allergic to vitamin D and the rays of the sun, so go figure, attempts to be healthy kill me more, i also cant eat most plants and am constantly dying from just eating food, they dont know whats wrong with me. i cant fix it by going ve/gan for a month inf act i tried and it almost made my heart stop thanks society. These arent excuses these are the lives of disabled and diseased and to a lesser but still very real point, ethnic lives every fluffing day. This is real shit and its murder and online and gaming? It may be all I have soon since I can’t just go out and make new friends cause, again, I’d fluffing die. I get sick going to the mall or the movie theater, I miss theme parks so much but have to minimize it to weeks i dont have work so i dont get fired for having a welt while working in the beauty industry. I may have to get a degree online and change my field entirely because of my illness that nobody understands. People even make fun of it constantly online and I wish I could just drop online entirely because of how unbelievably ableist the entirety of the world is, i wish i could drop humans in general for their ableism, but i cant. I don’t have choices in most cases, but throwing away people who maybe purposefully maybe unintentionally thats why i’m giving you this warning and will be repeating this warning for awhile, this is where i have choice. I have to use what little choice I have in life while I can since everytime i go to movies or a concert or a theme park i almost die because of not having an immune system that functions or being in certain air qualities pr being near plants or unclean people, I may not have much time and I gotta do whats best for what little mental health I have, and if that means dropping people i care about and really want to write with and do things with but who ignore me then, i guess so be it.

[jeremiahgrey]

JEREMIAH GREY ##STATS&BIO

Basic Information

Full Name: jeremiah grey

Nickname(s): jay

Age: twenty-four

Date of Birth: march 23, 1995

Zodiac Sign: aries

Hometown: las vegas, nevada

Current Location: san francisco, california

Ethnicity: his mother is caucasian, his father is african american

Nationality: american

Gender: cis male

Pronouns: he/him

Orientation: heterosexual

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: justice smith

Hair Colour: dark brown

Eye Colour: dark brown

Height: 5′10″ (178 cm)

Weight: 149 lbs (68 kg)

Health

Physical Ailments: none

Neurological Conditions: borderline personality disorder

Allergies: none

Sleeping Habits: varies, depending on level of anxiety/current state of mind.

Eating Habits: varies. tends to snack frequently, rather than eat large meals.

Exercise Habits: goes for a run 1-2 times a day.

Emotional Stability: it varies, but overall about a 5 or 6.

Sociability: likes to be alone, or in the company of 1-5 other people. but he doesn’t fear public places or crowds and doesn’t have social anxiety (typically). just a preference.

Addictions: cigarettes, usually stress related.

Drug Use: none that he consumes habitually. he’s experimented with psychedelics and marijuana, but it’s just a once in while type thing.

Alcohol Use: about once or twice a week on average.

Personality

Positive Traits: adaptable, adventurous, amusing, charming, determined, quick witted, resourceful, tough

Negative Traits: detached, finicky, moody, obsessive, quick tempered, stubborn, unstable

Hobbies: swimming, running, conspiracy theories, hiking, visiting abandoned towns/buildings & old cemeteries, people watching

Habits: smoking, whistling, biting the skin around his nails, fiddling with objects or his clothing, tapping his foot

BIO:

TRIGGER WARNINGS: CHILDHOOD ABUSE, SELF HARM & SUICIDE IS BRIEFLY MENTIONED, MENTAL HEALTH

Jeremiah grew up in Las Vegas

His father left him and his mother when Jeremiah was 12. He had been verbally and physically abusive to both of them up until his departure.

The trauma stuck with Jeremiah and later led to him being diagnosed with borderline personality disorder

When he was in middle school he would have “episodes” of social and mental withdrawal. They would last a few hours typically, and without the clinical resources to diagnose it, he would always refer to it as being “trapped in himself”

Being trapped meant he was disassociating. He would basically just “blank out.” An inability to focus on one thing, just racing thoughts that he couldn’t keep track of or characterize. Often times he would have to physically escape as well, isolating from other people. A lot of the time he had urges to self harm, or even suicidal fantasies.

His personality for the most part was bubbly and charismatic, he was adventurous and always starting a new hobby or interest. And then he would become “trapped” in his mind.

His inability to characterize his mental illness, and his childhood trauma, culminated in a short temper.

He was suspended from school in his junior year for getting into a fist fight. He was sent to mandatory counseling sessions, where he was formally diagnosed as having borderline personality disorder.

For a few years he faded in and out, never quite having a quick fix or remedy when he felt trapped or angry. And he refused medication, or any forms of continued therapy.

His senior year of school he just couldn’t put up with it anymore. The bouts of aggression, being labelled a freak, the lost sense of loneliness that accompanied being “trapped.”

Every time he’d have an “episode” he would journal. An attempt at collecting and manifesting the racing thoughts. He would smoke a cigarette, hold his breath, count to ten, and write everything he possibly could. Then he would go for a run.

It worked, at least a little bit. It made him feel more in control. A way to cope. And whenever he feels it coming on, he has to get away, and chase that ability of control. He doesn’t always have to write, but he needs to do something. Go to the top of a building and yell his thoughts, or to a creek to throw rocks and count out his feelings. It’s not a one hundred percent fix, and he still has outbursts that mimic rage. But he can clench his fists and disappear and try to deal with it.

He moved to San Francisco when he was twenty one. Just to get out on his own, face the world. His mom had a new boyfriend, someone better than his father. And he felt okay leaving her, finding himself.

Today he’s still the same guy with borderline personality disorder, but it’s not a ghost that unwittingly haunts him. He just lets it happen, redefines it. Yeah, a bit unstable, but he doesn’t fear it anymore. Of course, he still has the traumatic threads of his pasts that still weave into his character from time to time. But he feels more free than he’s ever felt before. He has an apartment, and a job, and a different outlook on his mental health. It doesn’t feel like he’s trapped anymore, it’s just a burst of  inward thinking that he can channel into something recognizable and bearable.

Jeremiah works as a delivery guy for the businesses on Carroway Street.

FAST FACTS / HEADCANONS / PERSONALITY:

Goofy and lovable, unless he’s in a “mood.” Sometimes he may seem a bit odd or scatter-brained, jumping from topic to topic in conversation.

Likes memorizing random facts, and sprinkles them in when talking to people. He doesn’t naturally have a very good memory, so he tries to purposefully improve on that.

Often comes up with nicknames for people.

Sometimes he’ll just say some cryptic, vague shit. Something ominous or nonsensical. This is just him thinking out loud usually.

The way he interacts with people is usually pretty vibe based. If someones a dick, he’s a dick. If someones acting tough, he’ll probably try to get under their skin or irritate them a bit. He’s not afraid to say what’s on his mind, and usually the thought of “filtering” himself isn’t even present. It doesn’t feel controversial to him to say some of the things he says. He doesn’t think of himself as bold or brash, but he’s come to learn over his entire lifetime that it’s the reason he’s so often branded as a freak or a weirdo.

ALSO just because he doesn’t “filter” himself in conversations, doesn’t automatically mean he’s an asshole, or saying rude things constantly. A lot of the times he will say stupidly sweet things that the average person would find cringy or awkward to say to another human being so brazenly.

He’s also pretty good at reading people, just he’s not very good at acting accordingly and appropriately?? I guess? Like he can pick up on vibes, but that probably won’t change the fact that he’s gonna say what he’s going to say. 

And lastly (I promise this is the end and I’m sorry this got rambly oops) he’s kind of stubborn and can be bossy, like once he gets something in his head like THAT’S IT, he’s doing it and he wants you to do it. And you can call him bull-headed or balky but he’s just going to insist he’s passionate and determined. And it’s probably annoying to the people around him but he doesn’t really care honestly he’ll probably just rant and rave and somehow convince whoever he’s with because he has a sort of cheeky charm about him. but also he’s a pain in the ass sometimes i guess.

PLAYLIST:

coming soon

WANTED PLOTS/CONNECTIONS:

any of these can be platonic or romantic, depending on how we develop them!!!

a friend that he can just “shoot the shit” with. someone who will go on little adventures with and sit in the woods with or sit on the beach with and listen to music. they never pry about his mood swings and they give him space and stuff?

someone who works at jukebox records and doesn’t mind when he loiters around all day and recommends music to him, and sometimes they’ll sit at one of the listening booth things at the store and listen to each others recommendations together.

a drinking/karaoke buddy

someone he met when he first moved to san fran (3 years ago), and maybe he’s told them about his past and his mental illness and his coping mechanisms and they’re good at recognizing the signs and they kinda help him out and let him vent and they’re just supportive and understanding. but also respect when he just needs to be alone or escape, but checks up on him cause < 3 < 3

a neighbor (in his apartment, and im assuming he lives in the calloway apartments i guess) but they started off as enemies kinda? like maybe one of them would blast music and then the other would bang on the walls and be mad and leave little passive aggressive notes telling them to stop being annoying. but maybe the loud music stopped or something?? and then the other person was like “whoa are they okay?” so then they started leaving notes that were caring and supportive and maybe little gifts or knick knacks or food for them, or little scavenger hunts, and then they just kinda started hanging out one day. IDK, this can be discussed more in depth/particular in dm’s i guess. this would be cutesy i feel!!!

an ex girlfriend or ex fwb. but it didn’t work out because they couldn’t really deal with jeremiah’s mood swings or his need to disappear sometimes, and how vague he would be about it. or maybe they suggested he should go to therapy or a support group, and since he is such a stubborn little pain in the butt he just became distant and felt judged and went cold on them. maybe there’s still some lingering feelings there, either positive or negative. we can discuss the particulars in dm!!!

someone with mental health issues, that he met at a support group when he first came to san fran. but jeremiah stopped attending the meetings after only a few. this relationship could be a lot of different things! maybe it’s hostile/confrontational, because they have differing viewpoints on how to treat mental illness. it could be supportive. or maybe it’s like a secret?? like maybe this other person was at the support group for reasons that they’ve never told anyone, and like, jeremiah can be their trusted friend or confidante.

NOTE: if there are any connections that aren’t mentioned here, but you feel like would really suit my muse, please feel free to message me!!!!!! with anything!!!!!!!

[serenagaywaterford]

Hello, I really don’t know who to talk to but I’m realizing I’m a lesbian after identifying as bisexual since 2016, I came out to my parents and they’re both supportive and happy for me. I’m a highschooler and it’s awkward being gay and no one knowing as ppl tease me to date my guy friends. Any tips or advice in general on being a lesbian? It’s still so weird to talk about but I wanna grow to be very open with my sexuality

Been there. (I used to insist I was straight (for YEAAAAARS I was with the same guy), then bisexual cos I thought I had to be since I was “straight” and not particularly conflicted about it for so long. So it’s a process and a journey getting here no matter what, and everyone takes different routes.) And I’ll be honest, you’re way ahead of the game already. Good for you and you should be proud and happy with yourself for being so self-aware and in touch with yourself. That takes a lot of insight and courage.

I think generally… people will say a lot of things but until you are comfortable being around your friends and family as yourself, it’s never going to be easy. It’s not easy when you’re out either but at least you’re not stuck hiding who you are and adding that level of tension to every interaction. To be honest, I was never particularly comfortable with myself. Not even when I got married to another woman. (My issues with the institution of marriage aside…) But in my job I basically am forced to come out daily to complete strangers, constantly, with the words “my wife”. It gets way, way easier and I’m lucky enough to be in a place and a position that affords me that freedom. Not everyone is.

Are the people teasing you your friends? I mean, high school fucking sucks. I don’t even care how people want to romanticise it after the fact, or in media, or whatever. Even the best experiences are littered with a bunch of drama. We’re all idiots in high school and we all treat our friends like shit half the time, even our best friends. I didn’t have a bad time in high school. In fact, I’d say it was pretty good overall. (I wouldn’t do it again, mind you.) But still, the shit you put up with from friends is just excessive, and also the shit you give friends–or at least the shit I gave my friends lol. It’s just so… ugh.

So, I mean, without knowing much more about the situation, I would confide in my good friends. Unless, for some reason that endangers you in some way. And yes, unlike some hardcore people, I do think social ostracization in high school is damaging. I don’t buy into the whole “Well, if they don’t like it fuck them, all you need is you!” cos that’s bullshit. You DO need friends in high school, even if they’re not perfect friends, even if you won’t stay friends with them in a few years. Having social support is incredibly important and to be alienated completely is lonely and leaves you vulnerable, and you miss out on stuff too. I mean, if your friends are complete total assholes, then by all means, drop them cos that won’t help and you may be better off alone, but if they’re only sort of annoying, well… That’s life, lol. Until you get out of the fishbowl of high school and people being to calm the fuck down about every tiny drama, there aren’t a lot of options. I found my best friends annoying af sometimes, and some of them had views on certain subjects that fucking pissed me off. But hey, at the end of the day, we still got along and had a bond, and worst came to worst almost all of them would be there for me, and me for them, despite some differences.

Are those the type of friends you have? Or do you think your friends would turn on you if you confided in them?

It’s so lonely to hold onto a secret like that, and constantly put up with what I’m sure they think is harmless teasing about boys. It can hurt you, and god, it’s fucking irritating on top of everything else. And, I hate to say this, but that sort of thing NEVER ENDS. It gets less and less, but I’m literally married to a woman for like 2 years now and a dude friend of ours just last week asked us if maybe we both just hadn’t found the right men yet. And on the subject of sex, he said, “Well, how do you know if you haven’t tried it?” to my wife. Interestingly, she is not a gold star and knows very well what hetsex is like (she fucking HATES it on every imaginable level), but she’s just never volunteered that information for public consumption. Still, as you can see, you’ll always have stupid imbecile friends who say stupid ass comphet shit to your face, even when you are blatantly a lesbian. Unfortunately, it one of those things you just have to… learn to deal with. I hate that we must.

I know that’s not exactly helpful or hopeful, but it’s reality. So these dumb friends of yours, maybe they’re not doing it to be hurtful or annoying, they just genuinely think you like boys. There’s only really one solution to get them to stop (and even that isn’t going to be a guarantee) and that’s to come out to them–only if you can. Tell them how it makes you feel. Share with them what you’ve said to me. It’s hard enough to exist as a lesbian right now, let alone having to hide and be shamed for it. Friends should get that. But all of them may not… 

I had one friend who was super open with her “sexuality” (she’s an attention whore, lbr.) who, when I told her finally that I think I wanted a girlfriend, she was super supportive. Then when the group of them were going to a gay club, I said I’ll tag along and she told me no. And her exact words: “You look too straight. Nobody will talk to you and I don’t want people to think I’m straight too.” (SHE IS STRAIGHT, just for the record. But she likes to steal girls’ boyfriends by doing threesomes, pretending to be into girls, threesomes, and poly, and then manipulating the boys into dumping their gfs. She also likes to breakup girlfriends just to prove she can. She has NEVER been in a relationship with a woman, only breaks lesbian couples up and then fucks off. She tried it with me and my girlfriend once. Nice friend. Just so we all know what she’s like.)

Note: These were my high school friends, and I was in my mid-20s at this point. We’d been friends for over a decade. And they still said shit like that. (And I mean, in some way, I get it cos when we’d go out to non-gay spots I’d get picked up by men CONSTANTLY, and women never looked at me that way. It was super aggravating.)

Which, it turns out, was her way of saying “You’re competition and I don’t want you around.” (and she’s obsessed with stereotypes), cos when I started going to gay clubs and parties with other friends who weren’t douchebags about it, NOBODY judged me like that. And I remember meeting my wife for the first time and telling her that story and she was just like “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOUR FRIENDS?! You do look super straight but I like you and I’m super gay”. And then she took me to a lesbian bar, and I didn’t change a thing about myself, and was picked up by all sorts of girls, and really hit it off with the cutest butch girl I’ve ever seen to this day. (It didn’t end up going anywhere but still, it was nice to learn that sometimes your friends are just insecure assholes.) It really is dependent on who they are, where you live, etc. etc. And those are only things you know. I can’t comment on what the best course of action is without knowing the nitty gritty.

SO, that’s a long way of saying, people suck. Even your friends sometimes. It’s going to be difficult for a while as you weed those sorts of people out of your life. Being an open lesbian is rocky, especially at first when everything is sorta all over the place. But it does settle down, and you make better friends. And since your parents are supportive that is a HUGE hurdle you don’t have to deal with, which is absolutely AMAZING :) It’s so nice to hear.

But if you’re not able to come out and get support IRL, that’s fine too. My advice is what you’ve already done :) Come online and reach out to older lesbians. They’re the ones with the experience. If it wasn’t for the older lesbians in my life (either online or IRL that I met, including my wife), I’d be so much more insecure. I would probably still be walking around feeling a lot of shame, embarrassment, anxiety, shyness, confusion, etc. 

But there’s something comforting about talking with women who have lived the same struggles, and hear about all the paths they all took and the ways they’ve dealt with specific issues. And they’re generally more calm, more realistic, and more compassionate than other baby dykes who aren’t in a privileged, secure position yet. Not that there is anything wrong with bonding with others of the same age. That is also INCREDIBLY important because those experiences will directly reflect your own, and there’s built-in support with peers. The things older lesbians have been through may not translate as well for you. A lot of us didn’t have the same pressures of social media, etc. But we also didn’t have the same online resources available either. So, it’s an interesting balance. I will say my friendship with my best friends from university (one is a lesbian too, one is straight as an arrow but a huge ally) are just as important cos age is a factor.

You can get insight from older women, but you need peer bonds too.

Online I think is very important nowadays, especially when you’re not able to go to spaces like gay clubs and bars yet. And surround yourself with positive lesbian representation. If that whole soft cottagecore thing does it for you, keep that in your orbit. But also never be ashamed or fearful of the sexual part of your sexuality. Just like it’s natural to romantically love women, it’s natural for lesbians to physically love them too. 

I feel like as toxic overall as tumblr is, there are corners of it that have been incredibly supportive and nurturing even to me. Especially lesbian positivity blogs and women’s arts, etc. Poetry written by lesbians is beautiful and inspiring to me. It’s a whole genre I had no idea existed, and that has given me a great deal of peace because I can finally relate to words. Music, written and performed by gay and bisexual women is the same. It may seem trivial or cheesy, but it’s powerful to hear about women like you in songs. I have to say Mary Lambert, for one example, helped so much. I remember listening to Alix Olson in secret too when I was much younger (maybe that should have been something of a hint to myself, lol.) King Princess and Girl In Red are current faves, Saara Aalto, Shura and Brandi Carlile are a constant faves I always love (not that I even knew that about Brandi’s sexuality til recently cos I apparently live under a fucking rock lol), but I have whole lists now and it’s wonderful to have taht access. 

When you’re all alone, seeking out lesbian musicians and writers can make so much difference in easing that isolation, and confusion, and fear. They speak to you and about us, as a whole. It’s affirming and less lonely.

Same goes for well-written fanfiction. Things that avoid the drama of fandom (cos there’s so much drama even when you have canon f/f pairings), because fandom is really just microcosms of society at large with all the same morons in it. But fanfic was such an escape where I could learn and explore all the things that most everywhere wouldn’t show me. TV shows touched on it (especially back 10 years ago there was like nothing), but fanfic made it real.

Even when you’re feeling secure, I think it still helps to have all the representation we can, and just… you know, revel in it.

Do not watch porn. Don’t. It’s awful and horrible and not at all realistic. A well-written fanfic by actual gay or bi women is way more helpful. Avoid porn at all costs. It will never teach you anything your body doesn’t already know about how to be with a woman (although I’m sure for you this isn’t a pressing concern at the moment). I just know that I made the mistake of it, and also stupid ass magazine/how to articles. Ignore ALL that junk. When you get a girlfriend there’s only ONE thing you need to know how to do, and that is communicate honestly. Everything else falls easily into place.

When you say it’s so weird to talk about it, I feel that. It took me YEARS to even really be able to comfortably say the word, especially in relation to myself. That feeling will pass. It’ll take time and don’t push yourself into any sort of thing you’re not ready for. You’ll feel weird about it probably, and that’s on society, not you. “Lesbian” still does have a stigma attached to it that a lot of people are afraid of or dismissive of. Just… try your best to tune that out. That’s all you can do. You’ll feel comfortable eventually. :) Give it time. You’re already doing well. The fact you can say it to me, even as anon, is beautiful.

You’ll be very open one day if that’s what you want and being a lesbian, and being seen as one, will be second nature. I mean if I think about myself at 20 and now, there’s a very big difference. I used to shy away from so many things, and dress particular ways to avoid things, now I’m definitely not giving nearly as many fucks. Also, I’ll say here that I own a bar. It’s not a gay bar, but almost every day we’re open, at least one lesbian couple will come in. And honestly my heart grows so big and warm every single time. (Gay men come in too, ofc.) But there’s something particularly ecstatic in me that I get to see that everyday. (I don’t actually have many gay friends at all.) I love the openness and acceptance and comfort. And I love telling people there that I own it with my wife, and see people’s faces light up. (Some don’t… but, meh, that’s real life too. I’ve had a few shitty fucking people come in too.) There are a lot more lesbians and bi girls around than we probably know. :)

You are not alone. Even if it’s only talking to people online, you’re never alone. 

And never get discouraged that other people seem to having an easier or better time at it. Everyone moves differently, and for some it is easier, some it’s way more difficult but that doesn’t mean you need to pressure yourself, or change. I took my way exceptionally slowly and awkwardly, but ya get there eventually if you surround yourself with genuine people.

It sounds cliche but it does get easier talking about yourself as a lesbian as long as you surround yourself with positive lesbian content/people, and it takes practice (sometimes a lot of it as I’ve learnt), especially dealing with internalized stuff. But you’ll get there. You’re still super young and you have so much ahead. :D

I don’t have specific personal advice about how to handle it all in high school cos I didn’t have to deal with that. Just that there’s a whole world outside high school, even though it may not feel that way sometimes. If you’re in a small town or in a country where it’s not accepted, you’ll have a harder time finding love but it is ALWAYS possible, somehow. Never feel like there is nobody at all. There is. There’s some cute, hot, smart, interesting girl somewhere that will be into you as much as you’re into her. It’s just a matter of time til you find each other. If nothing else, in the mean time, you can form friendships and bond with people online in various ways.

I wish somebody had told me in my teen years that it’s possible to be in love with a woman, that I’m going to kiss girls one day and suddenly everything else is going to make sense and feel right after so long of things not quite fitting together, that it’s just as possible to be fulfilled with a woman as it is with a man. I wish someone would have told me I’d be loved by a woman in ways that nothing else would ever match. That I’d touch women and feel at peace with myself, and being intimate with them will change my whole life, and it’s something I was meant to do and feel. That loving women will help me love myself in a way that I never realised, and that just goes back and forth forever cos if you love yourself, loving other people is so much easier. And not to fight that cos I’m too scared to face the not so nice parts about being out. Bad shit is gonna happen no matter what, but better stuff will make up for it. I wish someone had told me that “lesbian” isn’t a bad word (I grew up with a lot of homophobia everywhere, including my family), and that I will cringe when people call me that initially but that should force myself to use it at first, cos it’ll get way better and feel right the sooner that happens. It is what I am, and I can’t avoid it forever. Own it. Cos as soon as you do, the sooner they can’t use it against you the same way anymore. But nobody said any of that to me.

And never, ever let anybody ever guilt, shame, manipulate, or pressure you into anything you don’t feel is right for you or your body. You’ll feel it deep down what you want and need, and what you don’t want and don’t need. Don’t ignore that. Don’t let anybody talk, guilt, scare, or shame you out of that. It may be hard but you already seem very strong and self-aware.

You’re not thinking wrong, you’re not made wrong. There’s a lot of that around in our society and lesbophobia is very alive still, everywhere. 

You don’t need to find the “right man”. Ever. There’s no perfect high school boyfriend waiting for you if you’re a lesbian. There’s a girlfriend waiting for you. More than one, probably! You’ll love many women throughout your life and they’ll return it back to you. You’ll have friends that love you and support you. And when you say, “I’m a lesbian” it’ll roll off your tongue as easily as your name. Or your wife’s name. :) And you won’t feel any twinges of awkwardness or shame.

I wish you nothing but love and kindness, anon. Xx

And, also, anybody can ask me anything, btw. I generally really fucking suck with advice but my askbox is always here, if anybody needs it.

[comicteaparty]

January 13th-January 19th, 2020 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from January 13th, 2020 to January 19th, 2020.  The chat focused on Verse by Sam Beck.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

Comic Tea Party

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Week Long Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Verse by Sam Beck~! (http://versecomic.com/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Remember, though, that while we allow constructive criticism, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic. Below you will find four questions to get you started on the discussion. However, a new question will be posted and pinned everyday (between 12:01AM and 6AM PDT), so keep checking back for more! You have until January 19th to tell us all your wonderful thoughts! With that established, let’s get going on the reading and the chatting!

QUESTION 1. What has been your favorite scene in the comic so far? What specifically did you like about it?

QUESTION 2. What do you think caused the past civilizations and magic to all but disappear from the world? Do you think magic’s return is really in the world’s best interest, or will it lead to more harm than good?

Comic Tea Party

QUESTION 3. At the moment, who is your favorite character? What about that character earns them this favor?

QUESTION 4. How do you think Fife will change throughout the story, and do you think he will find the strength to protect the people he cares about? In what ways will his own story continue to affect Neitya and her goals?

Comic Tea Party

QUESTION 5. What has been your favorite illustration in the comic so far? What specifically about it do you like?

QUESTION 6. Given the themes of trauma, which character’s depiction of dealing with their own past trauma stuck out to you the most and why? Do you think as a whole each character will learn to better manage their trauma, and how can seeing this help us?

Tired Programmer

I'm sorry for a stupid question, because I'm a newbie here. Are we supposed to discuss these questions here or they are just an ideas for commenting the comics above?(edited)

RebelVampire

They're just ideas. Most people tend to follow the questions, but if you have anything else you'd like to discuss regarding the book club comic for the week, you're more than welcome to. @Tired Programmer

RebelVampire

1) My favorite scene is probably the one where they have Neitya open the gate. There's a lot to like about the scene. First, the art and the composition. The way its composed and paced has a real sense of intensity, so you can really place yourself in the other characters' shoes as they watch this unfold with anxiety. Plus, the glowy bits of magic used add a real mystical element as well. In terms of story, though, I love that this scene simultaneously answers a lot of questions while not answering them at all (and opening more). It's a real interesting blend of baiting the reader in with answers but keep them wanting more. Since in this case, I have a good idea of what happened, but want more elaboration that I know will come in due time. 2) I feel like the past civilizations loss of magic is because of them. Just as were seeing people in the current time want more and more from magic, to the point of challenging what is ethical for the sake of progress, I feel the past civilizations were the same. And that someone did something so grievous it caused magic to just go out of control to the point it dried up from the world. As for magic's return to the world being more good or bad, probably more bad if the current characters are any indication. Like magic isn't inherently bad at all. But you'll always have people like Branca who wants to push the limits and has a "never enough" attitude about it. So as people view magic in the world currently, I feel they can only go down the same path unless they learn some hardcore lessons about that.

3) My favorite character is probably Fife. I like how hard Fife tries and how hard it is for him to actually improve. And while I feel in a lot of stories his slow character growth might be tedious, I actually find it works a lot. Cause the traumas Fife has are very real, and everything we've been shown makes the pace of progress make sense. So I kind of enjoy seeing a character who is so close but just keeps missing the mark cause growth and change are hard. Also, Fife is adorable. So there's that too. 3) I think eventually Fife will find a better way to manage his fears and traumas, because insofar, Fife strikes me as the type to at least try to push himself into situations that make him uncomfortable. So I think eventually he'll find the strength of skill and character he's looking for. It's just gonna be a long journey and not anytime soon, but I think the current situation will kind of demand the change from him. As for his affect on Neitya, I actually think he'll serve an important role of grounding her. Neitya seems like she has a big chosen one destiny ahead of her, and between magic training and looking for answers, I think she'll often forget to take a step back and remember there are others around her who care about her and are affected by her choices. And I think Fife will help serve as the main figure that pulls her back and helps her through things emotionally speaking in certain regards.

RebelVampire

5) There's a lot in my favorite scene to choose from, but I'm gonna go for this page's middle panel http://www.versecomic.com/comic/197 I love love love that slow crawl of the text glowing. Like, I can picture it in my head. And I love that not only was it thought to be done like this, but just that simple choice adds so much to the mysticism of the moment as well as to the feeling of movement for the whole scene. <3 6) For me, it's Fife's trauma that stuck out to me the most. This ties into an earlier answer about how Fife tries. His trauma isn't something he wants, nor is it something he's purposely trying to let affect him. But then theres moments like this http://www.versecomic.com/comic/99 where is just springs up and he freezes. And then he's mad that he let that happen. And I feel like this is a really good characterization of trauma in general. Most people don't want to have trauma or deal with their trauma. It just happens, and it takes a long time to be okay either with the trauma or the fact that the trauma can have negative affects. As a whole, though, I think the characters will all definitely come to better terms with their current traumas (partly because they'll probably have new traumas). But I feel like dealing with the consequences of the gateway is gonna teach everyone stuff about themselves and force them to step up and learn to bite the trauma down to do what needs to be done.

Eightfish

1/5. I liked this page:http://www.versecomic.com/comic/29 I think it does a great job of making the world feel big The cityscapes look amazing as well: http://www.versecomic.com/comic/81 http://www.versecomic.com/comic/64 They have so much personality to them. They feel like unique, lived in places I can feel that the artist has such a love of landscapes

Comic Tea Party

QUESTION 7. Which characters do you enjoy seeing interact the most? What about their dynamic interests you?

QUESTION 8. What do you think the Vel really are, and how do they tie into the gates? Do you think the Vel can be stopped for good, or is it something that will plague the world no matter what the characters do?

DaemonDan (The Demon Archives)

(finished reading Verse, will try to add some answers today/tomorrow!)

SAWHAND

(Same! Verse is a HUGE fav of mine! I just need to do a quick flip through to refresh, but this week has been ultra busy so far)

Comic Tea Party

QUESTION 9. What sorts of art or story details have you noticed in the way the comic is crafted that you think deserves attention?

QUESTION 10. What is your opinion on Magdalena’s change of heart to legitimately help Branca open a gate with Neitya? Do you think her actions justified or foolish? Also, how will the dire events affect her given her role in it?

RebelVampire

7) I probably enjoy seeing Fife and Azar interact the most. I enjoy the kind of mentorish bond they have despite them kind of being opposite sorts of people. And I also like just in general how understanding Azar is of Fife and doesn't really ridicule him that much for his screwups. And I think of the relationships in the story, its the one I find to be the healthiest in its own way. 8) Given how much the entire thing Branca did felt like necromancy, I'm gonna go with theyre defiled souls. Potentially, they could be the old civilization at large. I know it was mentioned that the Vel existed back then, and maybe the more they messed with magic, the more Vel came about until that's all that was left. Until someone armageddoned them out of the world or something. As for whether they can be stopped for good, probably not. Granted I'm sure they can learn to deal with them better and quell their levels to non end of the world levels. But I think in the end they're just part of the world as corruption is part of the world.

9) I really love a lot of the details on the clothes. Like you've got patterns, you've tassle-like things, fur, etc. There's a lot of effort put into some of the smaller details of the clothing that I really think makes a lot of the outfits feel really unique. I also like how each outfit kind of expresses the character's personality such as Branca's dark wardrobe compared to Azar's more flamboyant wardrobe. So there's just a lot of consideration and effort that was put into making the clothing feel impatctful. 10) My opinion of Magdalena is wtf. XD 100% foolish. She did not consider at all the potential consequences at all and grasped way too hard at the hope straw that maybe it'd make things better. That, and curiosity. I can't justify anything she did from an outsider's perspective cause there were just too many what ifs she willfully ignored. Not that I dislike her or anything of course. But she dun goofed. I feel like Magdalena knows this though, and the events are gonna mire her with grief and guilt as she accepts more and more the hand she had in causing this. And she'll be that much more motivated to make it right, probably to the point of recklessness.

Comic Tea Party

QUESTION 11. What do you think are this particular comic’s strengths? What do you think makes this comic unique? Please elaborate.

QUESTION 12. What do you think happened to Branca after the city was overrun? Do you think Branca will continue to be a threat to the world, or might have the events changed how Branca intends to achieve the cult’s original goals?

Comic Tea Party

QUESTION 13. What are you most looking forward to in the comic? Also, do you have any final thoughts to share overall?

QUESTION 14. Do you think Neitya will learn to control her magic? If so, how might she be able to fix the current situation with the gate and the Vel? Also, what do you think will happen when she meets Fife and the others again?

RebelVampire

11) I think this comic's strengths are in its designs, both visually and story-wise. There's an interesting world with its own unique problems that different from our own. The visual presence of the world is stunning, from forests to full-blown cities. The characters have a great sense of visual style and everyone looks really unique and identifiable. Just overall, everything is really designed well for a nice, overall high quality experience. 12) I think Branca probably escaped and is still gonna pursue her ends of bringing magic everywhere. I imagine, though, that she's gonna lay low and figure out wtf Neitya did in the first place and how she can use everything to her advantage. I kind of...doubt Branca will change. She seems too power hungry that even a bunch of Vel aren't gonna deter her methinks.

13) I am looking forward to learning more about the past civilization's downfall and how that still has strong ramifications in the present story's world. I feel there is gonna be some sort of epic reveal at some point that will change every character's perspective on why the world it is the way it is and their relationship with magic. 14) I think Neitya will learn to control her magic. I think even without the voices helping her, she's probably a natural and will pick it up quickly. Though probably there'll be a few things that give her endless frustration. As for fixing the current situation, the most obvious solution would be to close the gate thing opened. But I feel they're gonna go for the harder solution of learning to deal with the Vel instead. I kind of feel like Fife and Neitya will be happy to see each other, but everyone else, not so much. I think there's gonna be lots of trust issues on both side that need to be resolved, so I'm expecting tension.

twothirty

wanted to pop in and thank @RebelVampire for hosting the bookclub and providing such wonderful questions (and answers!)

Comic Tea Party

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Verse this week! Please also give a special thank you to Sam Beck for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Verse, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: http://versecomic.com/

Sam’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/bePatron?u=722594

Verse’s Merchandise: https://hivemill.com/collections/verse

Sam’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/_twothirty

[calleo-bricriu]

Gotta be honest: I dislike that "OC Struggles in the RPC" post that occasionally hits my dash.

This one, right here.

In short, because it comes off very, "If you won't RP with my OC you're an elitist dick" even though I'm certain that wasn't the OP's intent.

But, as someone who has been writing the same Harry Potter OC (this one, right here) since 2001 and has played dozens of OCs in MMO settings, D&D, etc...starting from about 1988 on through now, let me just address the post point by point.

1. "That soul crushing feeling when you see 'no OCs' in someone's rules."

That's a you problem.

Nobody is obliged to write with you.

Perhaps that person has had numerous poor experiences with OC players in the past and just wants to avoid it happening entirely.

Perhaps they find it difficult to find ways to interact with OCs.

Perhaps they simply don't care for OCs when there are dozens of canon characters, including characters that are so minor that they might as well be a skeleton outline of a character.

None of those are invalid reasons and none of those are personal insults toward your OC or your writing; grow up and move on.

2. "Constantly having to dumb down your canon"

Look, if you're finding multiple people over multiple fandoms are telling you that your OC is too overpowered--just to cram it all into one word--you do need to stop and consider if they may be right and, if they are, if you care enough to change it.

There have been times I've looked at criticism I've had on Calleo and decided, "Yeah, they're right, that is a bit much" and other times when I've decided that yes, they are correct, but I don't care because I'm having fun as are the people I write with, and times where I've just plain disagreed.

It's also possible that your OC just isn't a good fit for whatever person is telling you that, and that's nobody's fault; not everybody likes the same things.

3. "Adjusting to adapted canons"

Literally nobody is forcing you to do this.

Everyone makes concessions now and again so things mesh with the group, that's part of what roleplaying is: A group activity.

If you feel as though you shouldn't have to adjust to someone else's adapted canon the problem is on your end and you're clearly not a good fit for the other player so maybe look elsewhere.

4. "The amount of your own canon and lore you have to sacrifice to do that."

Again, nobody is forcing you to do so.

This comes up a lot with people whose OCs are related to major canon characters and some of it is a big reason why it's generally recommended to not try and write those outside of established games.

In established games, the other players know this aspect of your character and, since you're part of the game, have implicitly agreed to go along with it.

For independent blogs, it does take longer to find regular RP partners because by having a backstory like that, it can feel like you're trying to force your, let's call it, adapted canon, onto canon and not everyone is going be on board with that idea or, at the very least, are implying that anyone who writes with you has to go along with it.

Again, that is not their fault and it doesn't mean you can't write an OC like that but you do need to be aware that if you choose to have something like that in your character's background, it's going to make it more difficult to find regular canon RP partners and that fact is entirely your fault, not the people who RP canon characters.

Same applies for those times when your OC has multiple rare abilities; the abilities might be canon but, sticking with Harry Potter as it's the main fandom I play in, if your character is a genius at everything, has the Standard Abusive Upbringing, is a metamorphamagus, is an animagus (usually unregistered and mastered by age 12 or so), is part-something-not-human, is a "transfer student to Hogwarts", is a major canon character's until now unknown sibling/cousin/best childhood friend, can cast all sorts of difficult magic before they even hit school because they're just that smart, is an orphan, and can sass Voldemort to his face without consequences--people aren't really going to want to write with you for several reasons.

- It looks like you haven't fleshed the character out well and are just throwing a pot of tropes at the wall to see what sticks.

- Writing with characters like that always feels like a dick measuring contest and if you dare try to hint that the OC might not be better at or just as good at something as a canon character, the most typical response is for the OC's player to get mad and tell you you're being elitist or bullying them.

5. "When you mention wanting to write a canon, people that have never shown any real interest in your OC jump out of the woodwork to encourage you to do it."

Yeah, there's no polite way to say this: If this is what happens to you, it generally means your OC is poorly thought out and can only hit one note (i.e. YOU only show interest in writing certain things; angst, shippy threads, etc...but never want to branch out to anything else) in your writing. That gets boring after awhile.

In short, your OC is probably a little boring and a little two dimensional and the reason your friends are encouraging you to write a canon is because they don't want to tell you that and know that a canon will be more interesting on virtue of you not having to make up all the source material the way you  have to do with an OC.

6. "When you do it, that canon gets more attention than your OC ever did."

See #5. Your OC was probably a kinda dull one trick pony and your friends were trying to be nice about it.

7. "The alternative of that: When your first character was canon and you transition to writing an OC, people suddenly disappear."

See #5. Your OC was probably a kinda dull one trick pony in comparison to the canon character you were writing, and your friends were trying to be nice about it.

8. "Fandom OCs that outgrow their fandoms and muns tha tfeel they have nowhere to put them."

That's lack of creativity on your part, not an "OC struggle".

This character of mine has had fragments of his personalty spawn off into roughly thirty or so different characters across multiple fandoms. On occasion, I've directly ported him into another fandom, just changing the Harry Potter specific things into things that fit the new fandom.

9. "Endlessly worrying if your character is too sue-ish, even after x-amount of years."

Stop caring.

Seriously, stop caring.

Caring about that usually ends up making you kind of less than fun to write with on an OOC level and on an IC level most people take it too far in the other extreme and end up with a character that's about as engaging as wet cardboard.

Not to mention, no matter what you do, there are always going to be people who will think your OC is "too sue-ish" no matter what, simply because they're an OC.

Focus more on people who are interested in your OC and not on the people who don't like your OC (and block them if you have to). You'll have a lot less stress and a lot more fun that way.

If you can't stop caring due to anxiety, get to a therapist and get on meds or--stop roleplaying until you get your house in order. If you get that stressed over roleplaying, it's not worth your mental health to continue; just go write fanfic.

10-13. All the stuff about female OCs being held to higher standards than male OCs.

This, unfortunately, is true. It's extra true if you're a female OC that gets into any sort of relationship, platonic or otherwise, with a canon character.

It's a pretty across all fandoms thing too, and it's definitely unfair.

I know 100% that if Calleo were a female OC, he would not have even a fraction of the interactions and threads that I have with him; people would think he's bitchy, stuck up, and annoying as all hell--and he is, but he's a guy, so it somehow funny and endearing I guess.

I think he’s often bitchy, stuck up, and annoying as all hell and I’ve been writing him for close to 20 years now.

He'd also probably be written off as some kind of slut because I've always written him as being in open relationships and often having multiple open relationships going at one time.

14. "People assuming simple, stupid things"

Yeah, that's not OC specific. Not even close. It's good form to always read someone's about and rules page, even if it's a canon character, because nobody plays even canon characters exactly the same.

15. "Feeling like you have to jump through hoops to keep up with everyone else and keep your character fresh and interesting so people don't lose interest."

Again, this is not an OC specific thing. Canon, unless a series is ongoing, is pretty finite, and anyone writing any character has to keep their character fresh and interesting and not just write variants of the same thing over and over or people will get bored of them as well.

A pretty good litmus test here is to look at it and see if it's just one or two people who lost interest or if it was a whole lot of them.

If it was just one or two people, that sucks, but it happens. We've all been dropped at some point.

If it's a LOT of people, it's time to take a close look at your OC and what you're writing to make sure you haven't just turned into--well, the literary equivalent of wet cardboard.

16. "Canon blogs that shit on OCs--you realize you were OCs too right? What would the original writer of your canon think?"

Well, if it's Anne Rice, she'll probably think to send a cease & desist.

That joke aside, be glad they do; it's a big red flag to avoid them as they're likely overall unpleasant people even if their writing is good. It also saves you from wasting your time trying to interact/write with them.

Remember that part about not focusing on the people who aren't interested in writing with you? Go read it again.

17. "No seriously, it can be so discouraging writing an OC. How many ideas are you killing by snubbing OCs? The future of creative media is in our hands."

Miss me with this emotionally manipulative bullshit.

Nobody is obliged to write with you and nobody is obliged to like your OC.

If a canon blog rejecting your OC is enough to kill your ideas, that's your problem, not the canon blog writer's problem.

If you can't find someone to RP your ideas with you and you really like those ideas, I'd suggest writing fanfic.

If you really want to RP those ideas, you'll either have to keep looking until you find someone who also wants to RP those ideas, or you'll have to be willing to do some compromising to make those ideas work in a way that other players will find interesting.

If your OC always has to be center stage and the best at everything, or you only want to write ship threads, or you only want to do angst, or your OC is always being injured, nearly killed, in emotional distress, etc...all the damn time, that gets boring for everyone else really quickly.

That's a you problem, not an other writers problem.

18. "Has someone stolen my canon?"

Look, if the stuff further up on this list is an issue for you, I guarantee you nobody has stolen your canon.

In general, nobody will steal your canon; there are not infinite numbers of ideas and tropes are very common both in canon canon and for OCs.

Unless someone straight up lifted everything about your character and just changed the name and whatever face claim you're using, there's about a 0 % chance they stole your ideas.

19. "Is my canon too similar to someone else's?"

See the bit in #18 about common tropes; given that, probably.

The bigger question is does it bother you enough to rework your OC? If it doesn't, stop caring.

If it does, get to work reworking your OC.

20. "Do they think I stole their canon?"

Have they said something? Do you have overlapping RP circles? No? Then they probably don't know you exist, let alone think you've stolen from them.

21. "And what do you do when somebody does steal your canon? It can be so hard to prove and it's so easy for it to be dismissed."

If it's hard to prove, it's too generic to have been stolen unless they just did a direct copy paste.

22. "Having your OC written off because of the face claim choice - that face is constantly typecast, nobody takes it seriously, they've been overplayed and ruined."

The only people I've had, 7 years of Tumblr RP, give two fucks about face claims are:

- Control freak admins of organized games that usually fall apart within 6 months due to drama typically caused by the control freak admins. I actually had one game have the admins get angry at me because I wouldn't stop doing cosplay for Calleo's pictures and just pick a celebrity.

Bullet dodged there.

- People who are also just generally unpleasant OOC; if a face claim alone is enough to make someone not want to RP with you (and it's not a case where the person whose face it actually is has been clear about them being uncomfortable with people using their pictures in that manner), that's a red flag that that person, if you somehow still want to write with them after seeing that, will likely be incredibly, bizarrely dramatic in all the wrong ways.

Sure, some of them are fine and they just have a hard time picturing an OC who also looks uncannily like Taylor Swift, but people who have things in their rules about refusing to write with people who use certain icons should be taken as either a red flag or a, "Well, I dodged a bullet here."

Also, in case nobody has told you this: Icons are not necessary for RP. They often add absolutely nothing to the post or thread that isn’t just as easily accomplished by using words. There’s nothing wrong with using icons but, you know, run far, far away from people who require that you use them.

Maybe instead of getting into the mindset that nobody wants to write with your OC because they’re an OC, take a look at your OC, ask people to give you honest and constructive feedback about the character (even if they tell you things you might not want to hear), consider working on your OOC personality as the victim mentality or using emotional manipulation about ~*~*how hard~*~* it is to write an OC to try and guilt people into writing with you is incredibly off putting on every level.

The more someone whines and complains about how nobody wants to write with them, honestly, the less interested I become in writing with them.

You also have to put some effort in, and that includes answering submitted memes or people who write you starters (or like an open starter call from you); if you fail to do that more often than not (and no, ‘low/no muse’ is not an excuse when you use it all the time, especially when you clearly have muse and are responding to whatever Themed Thing--usually angst or shipping--you get but ignore anything else or take ages to reply to anything else), the people sending those things in will assume you’re just not interested in writing with them and will stop trying.

And, bottom line?

If even you can’t sell your OC as being interesting and write off lack of interest from others as Unfairness Toward OCs, why should anyone else be interested?

If you have an OC that’s legitimately interesting, engaging, and not based around generally disliked tropes (across fandoms those are usually related to a canon character, multiple rare abilities, the OC being able to somehow always ignore or overtly go against social norms and suffer exactly zero consequences--or worse--be adored and admired for it by everyone, and Not From Around Here, in that order), and aren’t unpleasant OOC, people will want to write with you.

If you don’t, well, that’s your problem, and no amount of posting about how hard OCs have it will make people interested.

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence: Counterpoint, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 8

Summary:  After being recompleted, Ienzo vows to do everything in his power to atone for the atrocities he committed in the past. But this life hasn't been easy, and he's plagued with memories and nightmares. When Demyx suddenly reappears, the two discover that they have more in common than they thought, though the secrets in their past might tear them apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post kh3

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

Demyx looked pale and unwell, exactly like he’d spent the night awake and worrying. “I’m so sorry,” was the first thing he said.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Of course I did. I forced myself on you--”

Ienzo shook his head. He was feeling weak now, and leaned against the dresser for support. “You’ve done no such thing. “I’ve thought… and I’ve thought… I’ve felt… something physical between us. The hints have been piling up, and this… longing I feel… I can’t categorize. I have to explain myself.” He took a deep breath. He couldn’t meet his eyes. ““When I was a child there were times I would go mute,” he said. “Whenever I felt something strong, or experienced something traumatic, I would shut down. These spells have gotten less common as I’ve gotten older, but when I experience them, it’s impossible to communicate. It still happens now when I’m under exceptional stress, or surprised.

“And you surprised me. I’m sure it was an odd thing to witness.” He was wringing his hands together. “I thought about it all night. Part of me wonders if this is displaced desire, or hormonal impulses on both of our parts. I don’t pretend to understand these things. I never had reason to in the past.  Maybe some would consider this a poor match. But I am tired of denying myself good things.”

Demyx’s eyes widened. “You mean--”

Before Ienzo could lose his nerve, he crossed the remaining few feet between them and kissed him back. They bumped noses and their teeth nearly collided. He had no idea how to do this and was momentarily thrown by the fact that it didn’t come as naturally as he’d thought. Demyx froze a little.

“I know what you mean,” he stuttered. “About this being confusing, and weird, and probably a bad idea, but I… I’m all in, Ienzo.”

He sat down next to him on the bed. His face was flushed, and his whole body was warm with endorphins. Demyx took his hand. “I didn’t know what to expect,” Ienzo said.

“When I kissed you? That was your first?”

“I never had the desire before. Or really, the time. I presume the same isn’t the case for you.”

“...Well. That’s true.”

A few beats of tense silence. Demyx put an arm around him, lightly. “Did you want me to do it again?”

“...I should… I should like that.”

He reached towards him and ran a hand through his hair. This time the kiss felt more like Ienzo thought it would, and he let himself learn. He let his hands rest at Demyx’s waist. There was a thrill in being held like this. The sensation was exactly like not feeling hunger until eating, and his composure was slipping. He traced the shape of Demyx’s face, the shape of bones, let his hands pull through the blonde hair.

Still. Ienzo knew how easy it would be to get overwhelmed, and he could feel he was rapidly approaching that point, pleasure seamlessly giving way to a sort of frazzled overstimulation. He pulled away. “I didn’t think it would feel this way.”

“Disappointed?”

“No. The opposite.” Ienzo could feel the silence coming now. His hands shook. “But I’m starting to feel ov-oversti--” There it went.

“Overstimulated?” Demyx finished for him. “It’s okay if you need space. This is all new to you. We can take it really slow.”

Ienzo moved away a few feet and pulled his knees to his chest.

After a few minutes of breathing, Demyx broke the silence again. “You go quiet?” Ienzo nodded. “That’s okay. We can just chill here.” He swung his feet a little. “Is it okay if I talk?”

He nodded.

“It was really unexpected for me too,” Demyx said. “It just felt so much more real than anything I’ve experienced. Maybe it’s because I have a heart… or part of one, or whatever. I’m just… glad. I’m still barely catching my breath.”

The fact that he’d wanted this too sent another warm wave through Ienzo. Aspects of their research were becoming clear. No wonder people in deep relationships had been so much harder to pull apart. There was a strength in this, one that bolstered the wall of anxiety he was constantly fighting.  And yet, a tenuousness, as well.

After what must’ve been an hour he could feel his voice come back, and cleared his throat.

“Better?” Demyx asked.

“Quite. I’m very… I’m very tired.” He hadn’t slept in the better part of two days, and he could really feel it now.

“Go try to sleep. And it seems like you’ve just gone through a lot. If it makes you feel better, I’m probably going to turn in too. Hard to sleep last night.”

“Yes, I agree.”

Demyx kissed him once more. “I’ll see you later.”

The rest of the day he slept. Effortless.

Over the course of the next two weeks, Ienzo’s life took on a comfortable pattern.

In the mornings, he and Ansem would review the footage of Data Sora. In the afternoons, he would spend time with Demyx, working away at the translations. In the evenings, dinner with everyone. Ienzo looked forward to those afternoons. Truthfully, since the confession not a whole lot had substantially changed about their interactions. They held hands, sometimes. Demyx was more comfortable showing physical affection than Ienzo, giving him the odd kiss on the cheek. Even this much was a lot to get used to. He’d wanted this, and now that he had it it overwhelmed him. At least Ienzo was able to take his time. He wondered if he were even ready to pursue something like this.

“Are you still having nightmares?” Demyx asked him.

“Not as frequently. And yourself?”

“No. Not really. I’ve been kind of distracted lately.”

“By what?”

Demyx raised an eyebrow.

Ienzo nodded. “Right. Forgive me.”

He smiled. “Sometimes you’re immune to flirting, you know that?”

“Perhaps my way of expressing interest is far different than yours.” He smiled.

“You make me read too much into it.”

“Isn’t that the point, as it were?”

“No!” They were spending less and less time working, more and more time talking, he noticed. About anything. He wasn't used to having such room to speak so casually.

Ienzo laughed a little. “It is… strange, being known this way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel as if I’m to let you see a part of me that is guarded,” Ienzo said.

“You feel vulnerable,” he said instantly.

That was exactly what this was. To let his defenses down was simultaneously easy and impossible. “Yes. It’s frightening.”

“Very,” Demyx agreed.

“I had thought for so long that being open was a bad thing. Maybe it’s… necessary. Maybe in a way this is what I need.”

“...And now you’re flirting with me.”

“Very astute of you. You’re catching on.” Ienzo kissed him. It a way this felt like playing with fire. He didn’t really know his own limits, so whenever he approached them it was an anxious shock. He didn’t want to break the kiss off, but he had to. They were both breathing hard. “I cannot stop thinking of this,” he admitted. “I thought there might be something wrong with me.”

“What, that you’re a person that has hormones? Congratulations, Ienzo. You’re like most of the human race.”

He didn’t make eye contact when he said, “I’m not used to feeling want.”

Demyx kissed his forehead. Ienzo wanted to pull him close, but the frazzled overstimulation was running over him in waves. His hands were shaking, and he was a little dizzy.

“And you decided you wanted me,” Demyx said gently. “There was a lot of thought behind your decision. That’s pretty gay of you.”

He hadn't heard that word in a long time. Hadn't considered it part of himself or his identity. But it was true, wasn't it? This was more or less the textbook definition. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Time seemed to be passing quickly now. The days were not so dreadfully uniform. It got cooler. The translation work soon became nothing but a guise to spend time together.

One thing was changing; Ienzo and Ansem had finished reviewing all the footage. Ienzo had two notebooks of notes, and that wasn’t even including what they’d gleaned from Jiminy’s journals. Ansem was going to help him start programming situations for their Data Sora to run in. Ienzo’s own programming skills were not terribly advanced, and he really needed the help. Unfortunately, though, he couldn’t really shirk out of the work in the afternoons unless he wanted to tell him why, and Ienzo wasn’t quite ready for that. It wasn’t a fear of acceptance--same-gender relationships had always been legal and celebrated when Ansem ruled Radiant Garden--but rather a fear that Ansem would advise him against it. All that did was prey on Ienzo’s own insecurities.

“I’m going to be spending a few days with Master Ansem,” Ienzo said one of those afternoons. “You might not see much of me.”

“The data?” Demyx asked.

Ienzo nodded. He’d explained, as simply as possible knowing Demyx’s feelings towards Sora, what was going on.  “The more time passes, the more everyone worries that Sora’s drifting farther away. He and I will be doing what we can, and a few of the others will be visiting too.”

“The others?”

“The guardians of light. I’m sure you know all of them.”

“We didn’t exactly… talk all that much.”

Right. Well, he had been in hiding the majority of the time.“Well, you can see this as an opportunity to get to know them, then. It would be good for you to make some connections.”

He looked away, a nervous glint in his eye. “I’ll try. Just like you better take care of yourself.”

“Or what?”

He smirked. “For me to know and you to find out.”

Heat crept under his skin. “I see. Not much of an incentive, then.”  Ienzo rested his hands on Demyx’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “I like your hair soft like this. It suits you.” Whatever bottomless supply of hair product he’d had had run out, and he’d pulled the longer top part back. It fit his face better.

“You think so?”

“Yes. A tad more mature.” It made his hair easier to touch, less sticky, but he didn’t need to know that.

He smiled a little at the compliment, but then his eyes darkened. “Do you have to go?”

“I’ll be right here in the castle. We’ll see each other at dinner.” Ienzo rested against him for a moment.

“...Do they know?” Demyx asked.

“Who knows what?”

“Ansem and the others. About us.”

“I… do not know how to bring it up.” Truthfully, thinking about it made him feel something like embarrassment. This was entirely uncharted territory, physically and emotionally. Would they think he couldn't control himself? Or that he was pathetic for throwing himself into the arms of the first person he was somewhat comfortable with? Moreover, this was Demyx. They would surely have a lot of opinions about that.

“Do you think he’ll be mad?”

“Master Ansem? No, I don’t think so. Surprised, no doubt. But he likes you. You did save him, after all. I know you two have not spoken much.” Ienzo couldn’t help but wonder what that conversation must have been like. How had Demyx found Ansem? It must have taken a long time, searching and calling. And Ansem must have been anticipating the reunion with his apprentices. Just the thought of that moment made his skin crawl with regret. “We will cross that bridge when we’re ready,” Ienzo said. “Maybe, for now, try and get to know them better. They haven’t seen you change the way I have.”  He sat down next to him on the bench. He meant to kiss Demyx goodbye, lightly and chastely, but that wasn't what it became. Ienzo felt himself being drawn close. They kissed long and slow and deeply. Ienzo wondered briefly what it might be like to take the kiss a little bit farther, and before he could check the impulse properly, he ran his tongue against Demyx’s lips.

He pulled away, stunned.

Ienzo’s face burned. “I’m sorry--I should have asked-- I have thought of this as an experiment. It… helps.”

“An experiment,” Demyx said slowly. “Yeah. I like that.” And kissed him again. His lips parted slightly. It was awkward, and spitty, and Ienzo had no idea what was supposed to feel good and what wasn’t. Demyx pulled his hands through his hair. Ienzo tried to copy the way he moved and found the result much more pleasant. Yes. Now he could understand why people did this. He felt giddy, positively electric. Demyx pulled away from the kiss and pressed his lips against Ienzo’s jaw and throat and for a moment, or maybe several, it was easy not to think.

Did he deserve to feel this way? As their relationship outgrew the tenuous period and became more permanent, he couldn’t help but consider that this had been taken away from others because of his own cruelty.

There was only one way he could atone.

Ienzo pulled away. “I really must go. He’ll be waiting.”

“Do you have to?”

“Yes. As much as I’d be happier sitting here with you.”

“Making out.”

“Well. Yes.”

Demyx kissed his cheek. “I’m serious about you taking care of yourself.”

“I’m aware. I will try.” He left the room abruptly, willing himself not to look back, treading guilt and lust in equal parts. He retrieved his lab coat and put it on, letting it act as a sort of mask. He was Ienzo, the researcher. He was going to make sense of this.

No matter the cost.

“I’m here, Master. I’m sorry I’m late.”

Ansem was at the computer, plugging away at code. He looked up and smiled. “That’s alright. I’m laying the groundwork for you. You’d most likely have been sitting observing me anyway. How is it, with the project?”

Ienzo felt himself blush. “It… goes,” he said lamely.

“I’ve always wondered what it might be like to have an outsider assist with our work. Sometimes it’s so easy to lose perspective. A third party can see things so much more clearly.”

“Yes, Demyx is actually quite sharp,” Ienzo said. “I feel rather poorly for how we treated him in the Organization. We’re actually developed something of a friendship.” He sat down. Something was the right word for it. Against his will he thought of that kiss, and had to fight hard to keep his expression neutral.

Ansem nodded. “That’s good news. You need friends your own age. I fear, sometimes, that we’ve raised you to be an old soul.”

“Well. Nothing can be changed about that.”

Ansem kept coding. He barely had to look at the screen. “How is it you’ve been feeling?”

Ienzo considered. “Well--as it is--” He wondered if he might lie. He sighed. “Not… well,” he admitted. “My anxiety has been on the rise again. I just feel so much, so constantly. I thought as the weeks passed it would improve, and yet it isn’t. I’ve been having panic attacks with concerning frequency. I feel as though I'm not quite in control of myself."

Ansem’s fingers, on the keyboard, suddenly halted.

“As well as nightmares.” He was aware of the way his speech was changing, becoming more fragmented, more casual, the more time he spent with Demyx.

“You poor boy,” Ansem said. “That’s quite a lot to deal with on its own, and then there’s the matter of your readjustment. Thank you for confiding in me.”

Ienzo glanced at the screen, at the lines and lines of code Ansem had built. “May I ask you something?”

“Anything, Ienzo.”

“You didn’t abandon us truly, did you?”

Ansem was silent. For several long minutes the only sound was the soft whirring of the computer’s fan. “No,” he said at last. “Xehanort and Braig were the ones to banish me to the Realm of Darkness. No doubt the lies they told you were very compromising. For the longest time I fought to get back to you. I knew how you must have been feeling, especially after you lost your parents. Believe me. But the Realm of Darkness is a terrible place.”

Ienzo felt numb. He took shallow breaths, in through the nose out through the mouth, like he’d read.

“You have been so gracious to forgive me, Ienzo.”

“I do not deserve forgiveness,” Ienzo whispered. “I do not… deserve…” He was shaking and tried to keep breathing steadily.

Ansem took both his hands in a gesture that meant to comfort. “Do you sincerely believe that?”

“All those lives that were lost--all the atrocities I’ve committed--”

“You were a child . As the one who adopted you, it was supposed to have been my responsibility to teach you right from wrong, to steer you on the right path. But you were so bright. I exploited you, Ienzo, and that is not your fault. No doubt it was easy for Xehanort and the others to follow that example.”

He could not speak.

“You are a very intelligent, very empathetic young man. You have shown tremendous strength in the face of adversity. You do deserve forgiveness, if that’s what you need to hear, but there is nothing to be forgiven for.”

He blinked.

“I will spend my life trying to atone for what I’ve done to all of you. But you’re so young. You should not have that burden weighing you down.”

His chest ached. Ienzo held the panic at bay by inches. Ansem is right , he tried to tell himself. He is right. It is not my fault. The thoughts felt hollow. Maybe if he repeated them enough they would be true.

Ienzo looked at himself in the mirror.

He did not consider himself a vain person. He had no strong feelings about his appearance in either extreme. It was a body, a body that was mostly healthy, and for that he was thankful.

His (call it what it is, Ienzo) relationship with Demyx was putting everything into a new context. He was feeling certain things for the first time, and it made him aware that his body was worth more than being dreadingly carried around.

That’s me. Not Zexion.

He almost, but not quite, believed it. His sense of self was so fragile, but it was growing stronger. He traced the scars at his throat. He remembered them, and for the first time instead of thinking of that same stranglehold, he thought of what it might feel like if they were kissed. A hot flush of want rose under his skin, the faint pink actually visible in the mirror.

Ienzo was tired of fighting how he felt. For once, it was nice to just let himself feel, and dream. It was almost like breathing. It was so important to learn to do this.

He wanted to be kissed, held--maybe one day he would be deserving of it. He looked at himself and saw potential. He would be good enough for Demyx. He would make sure of it.

He programmed in a fervor. Ansem guided him, helped with the more complex pieces, but for the most part it was Ienzo’s work. To create a digital world was easy. To make its inhabitants behave naturally was harder, and still harder was making a Data Sora. Ienzo worked for an unknown amount of time on the copy of Data Sora, but he did not seem to want to function correctly. He did not behave in the same unique ways that the previous Data Sora had; he was just an unfeeling chunk of programming.

He was aware that he was growing tired, and thirsty and hungry, but those needs seemed to be easy to ignore at the moment. If he could just make one good breakthrough, he would rest.

Eventually, they had company.

Ienzo heard Lea’s voice first, and this was not at all soothing. At first he thought he might be imagining it, but then there were other voices, too.

He stood and crossed over to the other section of the lab. His knees felt shaky.

“Hey, there you are!” Lea was cheerful.

It was surreal, especially considering his very exhaustion, to see them all, whole and human. Ienzo could barely even say hello. Lea approached him, looking sheepish.

“I know we haven’t gotten a chance to talk. But I gotta say I’m sorry.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “For what I did to you. You didn’t deserve it.”

Ienzo thought of what Ansem said about forgiveness. He considered his own atrocities, and how he felt now. He sighed. “Lea, I’ve already forgiven you,” he said. “I’d much rather move on. If it’s all the same.”

“You’re too nice now. Where’s your sass?” He smiled, but it was shy, underplayed. Somehow in all this Lea had gotten a lesson in being humble.

“It’s still here,” Ienzo said. “I assure you.”

Isa approached him. “You’re looking well,” he said.

That was a lie, and Ienzo knew it. “Thank you. So are you. I can’t thank you enough for helping to bring Ansem back. What was it that made you defect?”

“I’d been his puppet for way too long,” Isa said. “And--to put it aptly--Xehanort idea’s of resetting the world, of having a clean slate, never quite sat right. Someone had to do something. It was just lucky that we had two members we could spare, and who were willing.”

“Yeah, where are they?” Lea asked.

“Even is busy with his work as usual. As for Demyx, he’s here in the castle. I’m sure he’ll be by shortly.”

“And everyone’s okay?” Lea asked. “No more gold-eyed monsters?”

“Everyone’s human,” Ienzo assured him.

“Speaking of,” another voice butted in. Ienzo found he was having a little trouble keeping up with the conversation, all the different faces in the room. He must be more tired than he thought. Roxas offered him a smile. “We wanted to say thanks.”

“It was my pleasure,” Ienzo said genuinely. “I am glad to see all of you again, and in good health. You’ve had no trouble with the replicas?”

“No, everything feels fine,” Naminé said. “But it’s kind of strange, getting to be me.”

A dark haired girl nodded. “Yeah, it is. But I like it.” Ienzo had trouble for a moment placing her, but then there were the memories. Xion grinned at him. “Do you remember me, Ienzo?”

“Of course,” he said. “It… truly makes me happy to know you’re doing well.”

“We came along for the ride. Naminé told me about the flowers here, and I wanted to see them.” Xion squeezed her hand, and there was a soft look between the two. Ienzo couldn’t help but wonder if they, too, had struck up some kind of relationship. “But we’re also worried about Sora and Kairi.”

Any semblance of cheerfulness was sucked out of the room. For a long moment nobody spoke. Ienzo took a deep breath. “I am doing my best to puzzle it out. If Sora is alive, or existing in some way, his heart is so unique that the bonds connected to it might hold the answer.” He explained, briefly, his hypothesis. “If I’m able to prove, in simulation, that there’s some way for one of you to contact him, then we can move forward and try it. With this sort of thing, I don’t feel comfortable throwing someone into the great beyond without the data to support it. We’ve lost enough people as it is.”

“But--” Roxas said, but Xion put a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s right, Roxas,” she said. “We have to be careful. If it’s meant to happen, it will happen.”

“That’s a good attitude to have,” Ienzo said. “I feel… fairly confident. I just need a little more time. In the meantime, I’m sure you all are welcome here.”

“I wanted to talk to Even,” Xion said. “It’s thanks to him we’re all here, after all.”

“Demyx, too,” Naminé said.

“He was a surprising addition to the plan, but it all worked out for the best,” Isa conceded.

“People do have a tendency to underestimate him,” Ienzo said. “I’m sure he’ll be along once you’re through with Even.”

“I wish you could visit with us more,” Xion said.

Ienzo tried to smile. “There will be time for that, in the future. But I must get back to work. Isa, Lea, do you remember where Even’s lab is? Can you escort them?”

“Sure we can,” Lea said. “And Ienzo? Take it easy, okay?”

More hours passed. He ate a meal, napped for a few minutes. The code seemed to be fighting him, and Ansem agreed that, technically speaking, there was nothing wrong with it. It was Data Sora himself. He didn’t seem to like the changes Ienzo had made to him, physically or otherwise, and would glitch and refused to move.

“Why don’t you take a break,” Ansem suggested. “A few minutes to clear your head. Maybe get some tea? I’ll take a look.”

Ienzo sighed. “Yes. Perhaps.”

He felt a little woozy the long walk back, but shook it off. There was time for rest later. If only he could present some sort of tangible result to the guardians while they were still here. Their faces had been so eager--

To his surprise, he saw Lea and Isa talking to Even, not far from Demyx’s bedroom.

“Is everything alright?” Ienzo asked. His heart beat unpleasantly quickly.

“Demyx fainted again,” Even explained.

“He was hanging out with us, and we were just talking about our lives and pasts and whatnot,” Lea said.

“It is strange he doesn’t have his sitar,” Isa added.

“Well, none of us have our Nobody weapons,” Ienzo said. “It’s a pity, yes, but it’s just our biology.”

Lea gave him a droll look. “Then explain this.” He summoned, with perfect ease, Axel’s chakrams.

Ienzo blinked. “Have you always had them, as Lea?”

“Since I woke up. Came easier than the Keyblade.”

Even and Ienzo exchanged a glance; he was just as puzzled as Ienzo was.

“And if he’s half as connected to his sitar as I am to these babies, --and he is--, he should definitely still have it.” The weapons disappeared.

“We told him as much, and then he blacked out,” Isa explained.

“He and I still only have part of our hearts,” Even said. “It’s made him very brittle.”

“He’s taken the loss very hard,” Ienzo said. “I hope this is a good sign that it’ll return to him.”

“We’ve all handled this situation uniquely. I don’t think there necessarily is a standard,” Even said. “I’ll try to investigate further. I should like to be able to use ice again. It made my experiments so much easier.”

Ienzo tried to figure out why the hall seemed so dark, but then he realized it was nighttime. When had that happened? He touched his forehead.

“Unfortunately, we must go,” Isa said.

“Our ride’s here,” Lea explained.

“I’m glad you came,” Ienzo said.

“So are we. It was nice to see the town nearly as nice as it once was,” Isa said. “But this place doesn’t quite feel like home anymore.”

“No,” he agreed. “Well. Safe travels. I hope you’ll visit when we’re all well.”

“That’d be nice,” Lea said. “Guess we’ll see you around.”

They left. Ienzo was feeling strange, oddly bereft.

“Those two tire me,” Even said, to break the tension. “Lea would not stop apologizing. As if the path to goodness is so simple.” He shook his head. “I admit it was nice to speak with Xion. She’s a lovely girl, very bright and personable. I should like to get to know her. To believe I created her myself, and I don’t understand her mind. It’s fascinating.”

“Yes,” Ienzo said numbly.

“Are you off to get some sleep?”

Ienzo blinked. “In a few moments. I wanted to check on Demyx first.”

“His vitals are stable and he’s merely asleep now. I was just in there.”

Ienzo blushed. “I’m sure you’re right.”

Even nodded, and turned to leave, but then he changed his mind. “On the subject of people I raised… you do know I still care for you, yes?”

Ienzo wondered if he might actually be asleep, and this whole day had been a strange dream. “What made you think of that?”

“Xion’s presence gave me clarity. I have been… cold, to pardon the pun. I have been isolating myself, and that is not healthy. I am wondering what it might be like to be Even again.” He patted Ienzo’s shoulder. “You’re a good boy. You’re too hard on yourself.” And off he went.

Once he was out of sight, Ienzo went inside Demyx’s room.

It was still minimally furnished, with nothing to make the space really his other than the little illumina plant, which added a soft violet glow to the room. A cool breeze blew in through the partially open window. Sure enough, Demyx was fast asleep. Ienzo perched on the bed reached out to stroke his face. At his touch, he stirred. “It’s all right. Go back to sleep.”

Demyx blinked and stretched. “You came.”

“I heard you were ill.”

Demyx looked at him, really looked at him, and must have taken in how terrible he looked, because he said, “You’re tired.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle. Don’t worry about me right now.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. We were drinking, and I guess I’m not used to it. I’m fine.” The lie sounded unnervingly natural in his mouth.

“You don’t believe that.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Please don’t lie to me.”

Ienzo could see, in the pale moonlight, that his eyes were watering. “I was with Lea and Isa,” he said falteringly. “They were talking about their human memories, and how it connected to their weapons, and how my sitar should still be a part of it and I…” He was hiccuping now. “I don’t remember, Ienzo. I don’t remember anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Almost nothing.”

Ienzo’s brows furrowed together in confusion. “I don’t see why that is. If you’re human--or at least getting there--you should have no trouble remembering anything. I…” Considering all that he knew now, this information was troubling, but not surprising. Thoughts surged through his mind and he ached to voice them, to get some clarity, but he could see how much this had shaken Demyx and stayed quiet. Ienzo hugged him and felt him cling back, sobbing anxiously. The sound sent little fingers of pain through his heart. “I’ll help you figure this out,” Ienzo said.

“I’m sorry,” Demyx said.

“Demyx, I’m positive this is not your fault.”

He held Demyx for a while longer, until the sobs quieted and he leaned tiredly against Ienzo. Ienzo longed to keep holding him, to rest together, to tell him everything that had happened that day. But the thought of such a thing also made him anxious. He kissed him on the cheek. “Try to get some rest,” he said. “I’ll come find you tomorrow.”

As exhausted as he was, when he lay down alone in his own bed, he could not sleep a wink.

[salavante]

Aesop 29 or the Helmsman

(I’ve drawn his floating head a lot, so here’s him with his hood up, which I draw less) Also formal apology because I think like maybe no more than four people who follow me play Destiny, so a couple things may sound a little esoteric. I’d suggest checking out the Ishtar Collective (links to offsite) if I refer to something unfamiliar. 

Full Name: Aesop-29

Gender and Sexuality: Male and Homosexual.

Pronouns: He/Him.

Ethnicity/Species: Exo, from the little crop of Destiny fancharacters that I have.

Birthplace and Birthdate: Unknown factor. But Aesop was found by his Ghost in the middle of nowhere, in a southwestern state that I have not chosen yet. Arizona, Texas, Colorado and Southern California are all candidates. Aesop has just a little bit of a Texan accent. 

Guilty Pleasures: Aesop is trying to learn how to play guitar and is really bad at it, making him very shy and nervous about his attempts. Similarly, Aesop enjoys singing, but usually does it when no one else is around - because no one else has really heard him sing before, it is a well kept secret between him and his Ghost that he’s actually pretty good. I personally like to keep the list of music that he likes to the 50’s-60’s bracket to match the kind of retrofuturistic style that the Golden Age tech in Destiny has. We the viewer read it as being ‘old’, even if it’s much, MUCH older than we realize because the setting is far future. That’s really all that matters, that we recognize it as being antiquated. His favorite of the very small pool of albums he has access to are Marty Robbins’ “Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs” and Nancy Sinatra’s “Boots” and “Sugar”. Sojourn teases him about it and has thusly introduced him to the feeling of shame. He also likes drinking alcohol even if it doesn’t actually make him drunk. Sometimes he does it out of spite. Someone you don’t like? Pound his drink right in front of him and walk away.

Phobias: Aesop’s kinda agoraphobic - he feels trapped and panicked in enclosed areas with lots of people, can be overstimulated by large groups of people talking/making a lot of noise. This makes him mostly useless in large-scale conflicts. He has managed to curb some of this by being accompanied by Sojourn or Calico to areas or situations that are high risk (whether that means a combat scenario or just going to The City), but this can get squirrely because Calico doesn’t have a ghost anymore and if killed would die permanently, and Sojourn has a tendency to get worked up in a fight and leave him behind on accident. If everything goes well though, Aesop is perfectly functional fighting in the small group that is his fireteam - himself, Sojourn (exo warlock) and King (human titan). His ghost, Chanticleer, can also sometimes talk him down if he’s starting to spin up into a panic attack. It’s something that he wants to fix, but, existing within the confines of your anxiety is a cold comfort that he indulges in. In general, he’s a very anxious person with a lot of existential dread, but he puts on a clownish, brazen act and hopes people don’t notice.

What They Would Be Famous For: Honestly, probably something very mundane, like breaking a dopey Guinness-style record or something like that. The entire point of Aesop is that he is very average in his skills in a world of blisteringly powerful space wizards and the like. I find his challenges are more about what goals he sets for himself and if those goals conflict with the status quo. Does his worth need be defined by how good he is at killing things vs. is the pursuit of personal wellness and happiness selfish in the context of a world fighting for its survival. Can these things coexist. etc.  

What They Would Get Arrested For: Probably something relatively benign done for the sake of pulling a dangerous stunt in the name of fun or looking cool. If he was a regular ass human in a normal modern setting, probably taking a nice vintage car for a joyride.

OC You Ship Them With: Aesop will have a love interest in the comic canon, but I’m gonna keep that under my hat for awhile yet. It’s not Cayde though, Cayde is dad. If Amanda Holliday was a man, he’d be utterly and entirely in love, but, alas. He’s still infatuated with her platonically though, and thinks she has pretty much the coolest job in the world. A promise of visiting her is a good way to entice him into going to The City.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: When death is not a factor, this becomes less of an issue, hah. Aesop and his bff Sojourn have killed each other a number of times in training, to an almost nonchalant degree. Aesop has also been killed much more in training, by his fireteam’s resident titan, King. Aesop will also find a rival in a local Fallen pike gang, the leader of which has the placeholder name of Easy Rider. I also have a Cabal villain I am throwing around and trying to decide if they’ll stick, but I need to do a lot more work and research on that. They’re my least favorite enemy type mechanically, but I think they could make perfectly acceptable antagonists in a narrative. 

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Aesop does not read. He can, he just doesn’t. I think maybe, MAYBE, someone could get him to read comic books, but those aren’t very sturdy and I feel like the amount of intact physical copies at this point would be almost nothing. The pool of movies and media that he has available to him are very sparse, but he absolutely drowns himself in spaghetti westerns, and would probably also like trashy action movies if they were available to him. I also think he would like Grease, HAHA. It has cars and guys in leather jackets singing in it. He’d also probably like any kind of rustic, western themed musical. And anything with cars in it would have his immediate interest no matter how bad it is, but he’d zone out in any parts he doesn’t like. 

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: To be honest I think most of the time, movies are a little too long for him and lose his interest partway through. He has a really short attention span and anything too long, complicated or artsy will lose him and he’ll start being fidgety and chatty and start making his boredom everyone else’s problem. Even if there’s a movie he likes, if there’s a part that’s boring to him, he zones out. He probably watches the same 2-3 movies over and over again, which is fine because his available library of media is probably really small. I like to think that they probably have movies in some kind of archive that they put up publicly in The City every once in awhile, like they have a projector that puts it on the side of a building and people just bring chairs and shit. Aesop has an aforementioned fear of crowds but he probably does some hunter parkour bullshit and perches somewhere at a healthy distance to watch from afar, as long as it’s something he thinks he would like. If he doesn’t he gets up and leaves.

Talents and/or Powers: Aesop seems to have an interest in vehicles, but due to a bet with his mentor, Calico, he has not actually been taught how to drive a Sparrow and so pines for them from afar. As said, he’s learning how to play an instrument, and if we want to be technical, is a Gunslinger speced Hunter with the Golden Gun super. He is very bad at being stealthy, as he is very impatient and is also a little bigger than the average exo. He’s just kinda tall and wide and tends to clunk around. If his Ghost Chanticleer wasn’t as clever as she was, Aesop would probably be perma-dead by now.

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s kind of a dumbass and a space cadet but has the potential to be very sweet, and the people he cares about, he latches on to really hard. Similarly, when set to a task he cares about, he does not quit. Unfortunately, many of his goals are unresolved, but it does not mean that he will stop trying. If he were to, say, become romantically interested in someone, he would go to great lengths to connect with him, even if it meant doing things Aesop himself may not like. In specific circumstances, Aesop may find that he has a great capacity for nurturing and bringing out the best in other people, a talent Aesop himself undervalues. Though he’s not all that intelligent, Aesop is very reflective and existentially inquisitive, and thinks about a lot of big picture stuff that other people might push aside in an era of crisis. Though he may not understand science or the way the world works in a mechanical sense, he is awed by it, and is a great appreciator of natural beauty. He’d cry at a particularly beautiful sunrise, if he could cry. I’d say he could be described as having a romantic soul.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: To be honest, Aesop has trouble establishing empathy with people he doesn’t know very well, and so is less invested in Earth’s plight than he probably should be (it would not be hard for Dead Orbit to sway him to their views). This makes some people think that he doesn’t take his charge seriously, and they also usually assume that he’s a slacker because he’s plateaued in his abilities so early. Really, Aesop is acutely socially anxious, can have panic attacks in large crowds, and generally prefers to stay away from The City unless he needs to go there, and so has a big emotional disconnect from it. Calico and Chanticleer have tried to get him more accustomed to groups, but has been thusfar mostly unsuccessful. His insecurity and anxiety also cause him to pull odd, dangerous stunts to prove his worth, making him unreliable and impulsive. He can bungle social interactions rather spectacularly, and is easily goaded into doing really stupid shit. Really, he is a person who may just be “too much” for some.

How They Change: Oooooghhh….I can’t talk about this. I forgot how frustrating it is to not be able to talk about things because you’re going to make a comic out of it. Suffice it to say he’s gonna change a lot.

Why You Love Them: I think Aesop encapsulates a lot of anxieties I have post-college. Aesop is a person in transition who is unsure of his future, knowing only that he can’t quit now, because quitting means failure and failure means death. Because he is in transition, he is anxious about forming relationships with people, worried that either he will be left behind by them, or that they won’t like him when he’s “finished” becoming a person. I think he has a complex relationship with his personhood and sense of self. I dunno, I think that’s an interesting anxiety for a protagonist to have. I am also interested to see what Aesop will end up contributing to his society/organization and his interpersonal relationships, and if he’ll be happy with it. I’ve put a lot of work into him, the ‘original Aesop’ I had in mind might as well be a completely different character now. Aesop was originally a little cameo that I did in our TTRPG game, Godslaughter, because my boyfriend had put a dunmer cameo character into our game and I wanted to return the favor. Then he made a sheet for him. Then I decided to keep him around, then I decided to play Destiny 2, then I decided I loved it, lol. There is still a version of Aesop in the TTRPG but he is so incredibly different, they may as well be different characters. We refer to him as “Bad Aesop” but should probably call him something more dignified (we won’t).