#haha sometimes I deliberately avoid even using the word 'I' or 'Me'

[breathlesswinds]

(Devlog) What We Learned Making A Trans Dating Game

Hello, Amelia here, the writer for Breathless Winds. It's been 250,000+ words, countless revisions, and three years since this game entered development, and I wanted to talk about what I've learned leading up to release.

The concept for Breathless Winds was actually sort of a joke between friends. I was talking with Doris about how there should be a dating game where you play as a trans woman and your dating options revolve around certain ‘tropes’ we’d both seen in trans fiction-- the totally accepting cishet guy who falls in love with the trans heroine before she even knows she’s a woman, the cool trans woman who the heroine doesn’t know if she wants to date or wants to be, and so on.

Doris wound up suggesting we make this game ourselves. We both like visual novels and want to tell LGBT stories. Still half-jokingly and half-seriously, we started fleshing out what the romance options would be and coming up with a setting-- and soon, we were fully committed to making this game real.

I was a fan of visual novels but had only ever written prose. I knew which visual novels I liked and which scenes stood out, but I didn’t know why they did or how to make my own. 

I read some great advice from visual novel developers, but a good amount of my knowledge came from just working on Breathless Winds. As our first project, this game has grown a lot with us and we’ve learned a lot while making it.

Learning How to Write Visual Novels

A bad habit I had to break out of was only using the ‘novel’ part of the game and not the ‘visual’ part. I would sometimes write “He smiled” or lines like that, and Doris informed me that we can convey this much more simply with a sprite change.

It sounds obvious in retrospect, but lines like that are often pretty invisible when you’re reading a non-visual novel. These lines change the sprite of the character inside your head (if that makes sense, haha). I realized that I’m so used to them being ‘invisible’ that I didn’t notice their absence in visual novels I liked, so I would accidentally include them while writing. 

I was also writing these routes in a word processor, so I didn’t have the visual portion to reference, myself. I wound up making a lot of ‘tone’ notes like, “Lantana should be smug here” so that the meaning would carry when revising and implementing these into Ren’py. 

So, while visual novels share a lot with prose, they’re an entirely different medium. On the subject of representing things visually, I’ve struggled trying to figure out how much can be visually represented and how much should be written. 

Every asset in the game has to be drawn by Doris, so if I want the characters to go to a new location for a scene, I have to keep in mind that’s another background that Doris has to draw. If I want a new character to show up, that’s another sprite she has to draw. I don’t want to overload her, but if I’m trying to avoid this entirely, characters sometimes wind up standing in one room talking for ages without anything significant changing on-screen.

I’ve learned that it’s recommended for something to almost always be changing on-screen, though, so sometimes I just have to ask Doris to make a new asset for a certain scene. I still try to stick to locations/characters that already exist more often than not.

Every single thing in a visual novel is deliberate. Another thing I’ve had to learn that I never even considered before is how to write each line so it fits in the text box. It sounds obvious, but when I’m playing a visual novel, I don’t usually think about how each line has to be carefully constructed so it doesn’t need to be split up into two or more text boxes. In my mind, if a visual novel is well-created, there’s not much that breaks a reader’s immersion.

Planning & Outlining

The previous section might sound really weird to some people, so let me elaborate.  I’m a lifelong ‘write by the seat of your pants’-er, so the biggest trial-and-error of creating Breathless Winds for me was planning out the game.

Initially, I created outlines for each of the four routes, and we agreed ahead of time on which CGs each route would have. That way, Doris could draw the necessary backgrounds and CGs while I was in the long process of drafting this game.  My original outlines weren’t great. I know a lot of people have different experiences with writing, but for me personally, a story is always shaping itself in my mind. When I started making the outlines for Breathless Winds, I knew the concepts we wanted to convey, but I didn’t know what each route (and the game as a whole) was really about yet. This might sound weird and unprofessional, but sometimes, I don’t know what a story is about until I finish the first draft.

So while I was writing, I would look at my outlines and I would think, “this doesn’t actually make sense, he wouldn’t say that” or “this plot point would work better if moved to this other section” or “there’s a plot hole here I didn’t notice”. The story wound up changing a lot in this way as I learned what it’s really ‘about’. 

And even after I finished the first draft, I’d get feedback from Doris and/or my editor and they would suggest fixes to problems that even I hadn’t noticed, and then I would revise the route some more, and later on I’d come back and need to redo part of the route to comply with something I wrote in a later route-- I haven’t really felt ‘finished’ with Breathless Winds at any point, and I think I’ll still feel this way after the game is released.

This means that sometimes, a background was created but would go unused because there was no space for the scene that would use it, or we’d need a new CG last-minute, or so on. 

When I’m figuring things out as I go while writing a non-VN, the only person that I can adversely affect is my own self… so I’m eternally grateful for all of Doris’s patience with me on this matter. I think Breathless Winds has come out a much better game for all the re-plotting and revision. 

I redid the outlines several times as I went. I think I’ve understood how to create outlines that personally work for me-- ‘living’ outlines that hit all the main points, but leave wiggle room for moments when a character does something unexpected, work the best for me.

Scope Creep

So, originally, each route was meant to be 40,000 words. “With four routes, that’s only 160,000 words!” I thought. “And some of my favorite visual novels are about that long, so I can write that much, too!” ← clueless

This is the most infamous mistake that new creators make, and I walked right into it. I should have known better since I’ve bitten off more than I can chew with past non-VN writing projects before, but I was starry-eyed and didn’t realize how much work it is to make a VN. Some of those favorite visual novels I referenced were made by much larger teams, writers whose full-time job was writing (I wrote all of these routes on the side while working at a day job). 

If I could have done it again, I would have asked Doris to start out with a really short VN. But, I don’t regret making Breathless Winds at all. It’s brought Doris and I a lot closer, for one. Every time I thought I wanted to give up on this, Doris would motivate me to continue. Without the two of us both and our strong friendship, Breathless Winds wouldn’t exist, and I think that’s beautiful. 

No matter what, we’re going to see it through to the end. (I hope people like it, though…)

Anyway, here I am talking about how much 40,000 words is. Each route now is about 60k to 70k words. The problem with having evolving outlines is that they can often evolve into double their original size.

We came up with the idea of the poachers really early in development, and then not addressing the poachers felt like a failing, but by that point it was too late to remove the poachers entirely… and so the game wound up a lot longer dealing with the poachers. 

I think that if we had an editor sooner on in the game’s development, then we might have had someone to tell us, “do you really need all of this in the game? Does this plot point really need to be there? Will you be able to write all of this in a reasonable amount of time?”, haha. But Doris and I were really excited about the possibilities of this game when we started creating it, and without anyone to reel us back in, we wound up coming up with more and more things we wanted to put in the game.

Did you know there was going to be an island full of talking rats who say things like “the big cheese” and stuff all the time in Breathless Winds? Yeah. 

The Core Design Philosophy of Breathless Winds

So, for anyone who’s read this far but doesn’t know yet-- the premise of Breathless Winds is that you play as a trans woman who doesn’t know she’s trans yet, and she finds love with one of four love interests as she discovers her gender identity. 

In real life, it can be a lot messier for a person to date when discovering their gender identity. To put it briefly and mildly, a trans person’s life and sense of personal identity can rapidly change during a gender crisis and the early stages of transition. 

However, we wanted to make this game a ‘wish-fulfillment’ type story-- a trans fantasy about acceptance, community, and love. During a gender crisis, it can be easy to feel as if one has lost touch with themselves and become isolated from others. A sincere wish shared by many trans people is to be accepted, loved, and even celebrated as their true gender, not just tolerated. 

Since many trans people don’t get love and acceptance in real life, especially with the ongoing transphobic moral panic, we wanted to create a game that would bring this feeling of trans joy and celebration to trans audiences. 

We also hope that cis players will still enjoy the story and characters, and maybe come away from the game with a new understanding about being transgender and other aspects of LGBT identity (although we never intended this game to be ‘educational’).

Making Characters that Celebrate Trans Identity

Although we went through several revisions, the core identities of each character stayed the same since the game was first ‘jokingly’ pitched. In another post, I discussed how each character is themed around a change in seasons. (I also wound up theming them around the four humors when I was initially concepting them-- I really wanted to avoid too much ‘overlap’ in the LI’s personalities, haha). 

Ultimately, characters are created to serve a role. The LIs in Breathless Winds were designed to be love interests, of course-- characters who would appeal to the hypothetical trans femme audience. As mentioned earlier, we modeled them after other trans fiction tropes because these types of characters have a certain tried-and-true appeal, but this left plenty of flexibility to put our own spin on it. 

A trans woman being loved as a woman by a cishet guy can feel like a high form of ‘passing’, ‘fitting in’ to the female gender role, and being validated by his orientation. He only likes women, and he likes you, so you’re undoubtedly a woman. As a cishet guy, he represents a sort of acceptance into a societal norm that trans women can desire to live to. (Lantana, as a cis lesbian, represents the sapphic counterpoint to this-- although there is of course a big gap between the ‘normalcy’ of a cishet man and a cis lesbian woman, and I don’t mean to say those two are equivalent.) 

But not all trans women want to live to that (cis) societal norm. Rue and Valerian, as a trans woman and a trans man respectively, are the t4t options. 

Rue’s route represents that trans/sapphic ‘envy’ (“do I want her or do I want to be her?”) as well as finding power in community aside from what society considers ‘normal’. We’ve always been pretty clear about what we wanted to do with Rue’s route.

We went back and forth a lot more on Valerian’s route. Initially, we were unsure if he should be trans. He and Rue are the two less-friendly love interests (at least initially), so I was afraid it would come across that t4t is a more hostile option, which is not true at all. But it also felt like a mistake to not have a trans man in the game-- but making Gallardia trans would have required a big overhaul of what we had in mind for him and his route. (Although, childhood friends t4t is a really good idea...)

Beyond that, Valerian takes a villainous role in any route that isn't his own. We were worried that it would be wrong to have a trans antagonist who represents unjust power. However, Breathless Winds is a queer game with other positive trans characters, and we've always approached Valerian as a hot anti-villain man that you can't help but like.

In the end, Valerian’s route is about breaking generational cycles and what it is that makes you a man, and I also managed to sneak in a scene where they dance at a ball in the royal palace, so in the end I think it all worked out great.

Wish Fulfillment and Catharsis

Doris and I both agreed that we wouldn’t depict on-screen transphobia in Breathless Winds. Poppy worries about not being accepted, but fear of acceptance can come with any change in identity. Rue was rejected by her family for being trans, but this doesn’t take place ‘on screen’ in the game. There exist certain metaphorical parallels for transness and transphobia, but every route has a happy ending. 

Following up on this-- it can be difficult to write about discovery of gender identity without writing about transphobia, considering how many trans people suffer from internalized transphobia during their period of repression.

Sometimes, repressed/closeted transgender people ‘hyper-perform’ their assigned gender as a form of denial. A trans woman might grow out a beard and join a gym, while a trans man might become very interested in makeup and feminine clothing. 

In Breathless Winds, Poppy often struggles with ‘strength’ and what it means to be a man. In several routes, she tries to prove her strength under the assumption that being stronger would make her happy. Afraid the world would reject her if she became who she really is, she preemptively rejects herself.

Not every trans person suffers from prolonged denial, internalized transphobia, or even gender dysphoria. I don’t think it’s impossible to tell a purely-positive story about trans joy. 

While Poppy never gets rejected for being trans, faces transphobia, gets called a slur, etc, she faces both internal and external (metaphorical) obstacles to realizing and accepting her identity. 

Gallardia represents a societal norm that Poppy can’t live up to herself as a man.

Lantana suffers from certain aspects of her identity as a woman, which makes Poppy feel guilt for wanting to be a girl.

Rue is isolated from town at the start of her route, a ‘punishment’ for breaking this societal norm.

Valerian has to hyper-conform to his masculine gender role at first in toxic ways before finding acceptance from within and from his loved ones.

These struggles are real to a lot of people, but instead of pretending they don’t exist, I hoped to tell a story about catharsis. Poppy is able to live up to her truth as a woman and finds love with Gallardia, Poppy and Lantana redefine what being a woman should and does mean to them, Rue and Poppy find community in others who don’t fit the norm, Poppy and Valerian stop seeking gender validation from a society that was never made to serve them. 

Although these powerful forces of oppression exist, loving yourself as a trans person- and loving those around you, protecting the natural world, and standing up for what you believe in- can save the day. That’s the kind of story we wanted to tell.

Wrap-up

There’s a lot more I could write, but this has already gotten really long (sorry!) so I’ll wrap it up here. 

Learning how to write a visual novel in terms of technical skill (how to depict events on-screen, how long each line should be) as well as in terms of writing skill (how to outline the game, how to plan visual assets) has been a massive undertaking for me. 

Writing Breathless Winds has been a big challenge but also deeply rewarding, and all of your support has made the experience even more wonderful. Thank you for reading and thank you for supporting the game!

[punkitt-is-here]

It's fascinating to me to encounter people on the internet who choose explicitly not to say what their pronouns are.

To be clear, I respect your decision and applaud the firmness of your stance. I think that overall there should be less personal information on the internet and restricting pronouns is simply another step on the way to taking back internet privacy. The thing is, I have spent enough time, effort, money, and grief on the project that is myself that I am having difficulty grokking the desire not to have one's gender be known at all. I am totally disarmed by the attitude, and I attribute this entirely to my own experience growing up on the internet. I can no longer abide resigning myself to the perceived genericized maleness of the average internet user. I deliberately make my pronouns available I go on the internet, and I correct people in conversation when appropriate.

This is because, in my past experience (middle 2000s ongoing), if one did not have clear gender they got the masculine pronouns. Assigned Male By Forum Users wasn't just the default, it was the practice, the de facto, the un-inspected habit of the english speaking internet user. There Are No Girls On The Internet was then and to a degree still is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Even though it was obviously never the case, and that women have always been on the internet, sometimes it is easier to just go along with the flow to avoid the inevitable misogyny.

Keep it up, you funky little internet person. I like your horse comix! They are good.

Haha, I totally get it! When you work so hard on yourself, you want to make sure people see it right. I'm all for pronouns being readily available and stuff.

That being said, I like keeping em a secret for a couple reasons! They'll come out eventually, obviously, I'm a film student with a job and eventually someone from online is gonna meet me in-person and I'll be happy to let them know then and when I (IDEALLY) have a career that'll be public knowledge. I've got a perfectly good gender I'm very happy and comfortable with. For now, tho, since I've seen it a million times with artists online that i really love, I've found out that people tend to weaponize your gender/pronouns a lot. No matter what they are, too! I think I just get less weird comments and mail by just keepin' that shit a secret. Folks don't gotta know cuz it aint really that important. I like being able to speak online and not having one trillion internet strangers who think they know me because of some words in my bio cross-examine me every time I talk.

Also, it's fun! I've had people think I'm a cis girl, a trans guy, a trans girl, a cis guy, a nonbinary no-gender something or other, a neopronoun user, genderfluid...basically everything under the sun! And I think it's fun to see how people perceive me since I don't think you get that option a lot. It's honestly really fun to know that my online presence doesn't have any...like, gender coding to it, if that makes any sense? Because I've seen NO consistency in the guesses and I find that incredibly entertaining. Even some people who've known me for years passively online still use the incorrect pronouns cuz I've never clarified and I think that's just silly and fun. I'm glad to know that I'm very much not explicitly in any sort of "box" with the way I present myself, because I think gender is kinda silly in the first place.

So, uh, yeah! That's mostly my reasoning for not clarifying anywhere, hehe. :3c

[silverbladexyz]

HELLOO SILVER!! Congrats for 100 followers❤️❤️ I'm very excited for this platonic matchup event!!

If you don't mind, I'd love to be matched with a mentor <3

I'm an INFP-T. I tend to avoid conflicts and arguments, so I always try my best to stay neutral and not upset other people. I'm not good at arguing haha

I'm caught up with the manga and anime! I'm familiar enough with the LNs that are already animated. Other than that, I haven't touched the novels except for the first half of Stormbringer and Dazai's Entrance Exam.

I enjoy writing, reading, and occasionally drawing. I also recently got interested in basic coding.

My pronouns are she/her, and no worries! I'm happy to be matched with anyone <3

sjsjs I'm sorry if this is too longg, feel free to take your time <33 and again, CONGRATS ON 100 FOLLOWERS🥳

HIIIIIIIIIII PIXYYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS ITS SO GOOD TO BE WRITING SOMETHING FOR YOU AGAIN <3 AND TYSM! I hope you enjoy the matchup results!

The images are not mine. They belong to their original owners.

Calculating...

Your mentor is... CHUUYA NAKAHARA!!!

-I know Pixyys, you're probably screaming at me right now 'SILVER WHY'

-But let me explain. Mori assigned you to be Chuuya's subordinate, since he deduced that Chuuya would be the best mentor to train you up the quickest and most efficiently

-Chuuya doesn’t underestimate or belittle you. Which means that he doesn’t go easy on you, and he expects you to do your best and get the best results. He is strict, but he is fair and he knows your limits

-He is harsh sometimes, and his patience isn’t the best, but he will try to help you learn and grow. Chuuya is pretty loud, but he rarely shouts; only if he’s really mad at you, and for that to happen you must’ve messed up pretty bad or messed up deliberately

-However, Chuuya does appreciate the fact that you don’t purposely try to argue with him or make him mad. He’s had to deal with a lot of people that get on his nerves, and having a student like you that actually tries to be a peacekeeper is really refreshing for him. Because of this, he’s never really yelled at you, something which both of you are glad for <33

-You’ll mostly be learning martial arts and weapon handling from him. Now he won’t be like Dazai and straight up kick you around, but that doesn’t mean he won’t bruise you a fair bit. But don’t worry, he never gives you anything worse than a bruise and sore muscles

-He pushes you to take risks. He is the type that believes if you push past your limits, then you could actually learn and grow. However, that doesn’t mean he’ll always make you take risks. If he thinks you can’t handle your opponent, he’ll come and assist you

-Even with his short temper, I feel like he’d be good at explaining how things are supposed to be done. Just listen carefully, because the second time you ask him he might become impatient

-Also, he appreciates your empathy and your kindness. Most of the people he know are just mindless killing machines who never stop to think about emotions. Your ability to empathise and know how to deal with emotions secretly makes Chuuya a little soft inside, but he still instructs you not to let your emotions get in the way of the mission. He would hate to see you manipulated or killed because of your empathy

-Over time, Chuuya might come to trust you a little more. Whenever he’s drunk, he might be the only one to open up to you, but he won’t open up to you completely. But you could open up to him, and even if he acts like he wouldn’t care, deep down he’s secretly glad that you trust him.

-Now, despite his temper and his harsh words, Chuuya cares about you! If anybody hurt or used you, you bet that Chuuya would be on his way to deal with them. Deep down, he has a heart of gold, even if his personality seems like the opposite

-Chuuya will actually lend you some of his accessories or clothes for a mission. One time, he even told you to take care of his hat before he left to beat up some enemies. And let me tell you, him entrusting his hat in your care is one of the highest honours you could ever receive

-Overall, he’s a strict but fair mentor who pushes you to overcome your limits. I hope you like motorcycle rides <3

And your parent figure is… ADAM FRANKENSTEIN!!!

-He would be such a caring and funny father omg

-Adam will try his best to be a parent figure to you. Even though he’s a robot, it isn’t that hard for him to be able to care for you like how any normal father would. He may be a bit inexperienced though... but he didn’t take care of Chuuya for nothing <3

-Feel free to ask him to help you with anything! Whether it be schoolwork, relationships, or just life in general, Adam is always willing to help and guide you. And he always does it in the most efficient way possible, even when some of these ways are kind of strange

-Adam loves giving you piggyback rides or hugs. His hugs are the best, and they always manage to cheer you up when you’re feeling down. And piggyback rides? Just say the word and Adam would leap all throughout Yokohama while carrying you securely on his back

-He probably would teach you how to defend yourself. However, due to his program, Adam always manages to predict which move you were going to throw, and each time he always predicts it right lol (you get back at him later by spraying water at him aHa)

-Coding? Since Adam himself runs on codes, he is naturally interested in this hobby, and most of the times he ends up teaching you something new. It helps immensely, because coding is so complicated (speaking from personal experience here ;-;) Adam could even teach you how to hack into the government’s database lol. He wouldn’t though because he has good morals most of the time <3

-If he sees anyone mistreating you, Adam is immediately by your side and giving the other person a lecture. If they still continue to mistreat you, well let’s just say that Adam has 1000 ways to take care of them, and each way works like magic

-Introduce him to new foods! Adam is open to trying out new opportunities, so when he learned that there was more than acorns and gum, he’s immediately going with you to the supermarket on a shopping trip. Also I headcanon that he’s great at cooking, so bring him along everytime you go shopping!

-Adam is great at reading emotions, and he always knows how to comfort you. He also gives the best advice, and his ability to empathise is probably higher than a lot of people in BSD lol

-Even if you weren’t feeling down, Adam would probably give you a lot of headpats. But he will ask if he can headpat you, and will stop if you asked him to (as we all know, we stan a consent king 👑)

-Overall, Adam is best father. Please give him lots and lots of hugs <333

And last but not least, your sibling figure is... PIANOMAN!!!

-When you said that your mbti was infp, my brain immediately went to Pianoman (/hj, it took some considering, but I chose to settle for him)

-ENTP brother and INFP sister are quite common, and plus these two types get along well. But enough of my mbti info dump, let’s get into the matchup <33

-As we all know, Pianoman is the leader of the Flags, so he wouldn’t have that much time to hang out with you. But he tries! Even if he can’t, he’ll ask one of the Flags to keep you company (most often it would be Lippmann or Albatross)

-Pianoman also appreciates how you don’t like arguing. The most you two would ‘argue’ would just be playful banters, and any misunderstanding is cleared up immediately because of the efficient way that you two communicate

-Also, he’s glad how you don’t like upsetting other people. You know just how to comfort him, and you also help him with his emotions. Whenever he’s stressed, worried, or angry he’ll come to you and you always manage to make him feel better

-Pianoman is also good at comforting you and making you feel better. He will give words of consolation, as well as hugs and acts of service. Afterall, what type of leader is he if he can’t take care of his younger sister? Definitely lets you cuddle him platonically if you are very stressed or anxious

-Oh, and if anybody dares to mistreat you or bully you or basically do anything bad to you, Pianoman would behead them. He’s quite protective of you, and he worries for your safety a lot, but he knows that you can take care of yourself

-Drawing, you say? Pianoman is interested. He’s quite the artist himself, and not to mention he’s elegant and precise, so he would definitely like drawing with you. Sometimes, you two have competitions to see who draws the better drawing

-Pianoman might be interested in books as well, so drop him some book recommendations! He’ll like reading them, but he loves reading your writing the most <3 and his feedback is quite encouraging as well

-The rest of the Flags treat you like a little sister as well. Albatross talks energetically with you, Chuuya would be your drink buddy, Iceman just chills around with you, Doc treats your injuries, and Lippmann provides all the juicy gossip from the Mafia and his acting career.

-^ One time, Lippmann was practicing some pickup lines on you (you agreed to it). Pianoman walked in and thought that Lippmann was genuinely trying to hook up with you. Legit was the most intense few minutes of your life (I’ll leave it to your imagination on how Pianoman reacted 🙂)

-Also, tell him all the random facts about the piano! I bet he’ll be really intrigued, since I headcanon he actually doesn’t know much about the piano. Just please don’t make him start dropping pianos on his victims or pulling out piano wires to use as his weapon... my heart will break if he does these 💔🎹

-Share some of your music with him! Pianoman probably listens to outdated songs or songs that nobody has ever heard of before, so he’ll be down for listening to the songs you listen to. His favourite song is probably Money by LaLisa

-Overall, he is an elegant, humorous and caring older brother. I’m jealous lmao

@pixyys

[jae-canikeepyou]

| letting go | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst (i don’t think it’s enough ;-; )

a/n: weeee this was rotting in my drafts for months, it’s not proof read (as always) haha :D

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the strong rush of winds together with falling sharp raindrops were painful, as if multiple arrows were aimed at you by a number of huntsmen— hiding behind woods, camouflaging themselves in order to not reveal their positions.

at this point, the droplets rather felt like hailstones than water. well what difference did it make? they still sliced your flesh like knives even if they were the condensed and frozen forms of liquid.

just as your body froze when you saw him with her.

almost the whole crowd turned heads to your way. looking back, the entire picturesque looked exactly like a bride entering a chapel for her walk at the aisle, except what happened earlier was the total opposite. it looked like you objected the bind of the new couple because believe it or not, whispers from all directions grew and there wasn’t an end to them. they spread so quickly that you didn’t bother to stop them.

you stood right in front of your boyfriend, right at the middle of the dance floor, whom he had his arms around a girl’s waist. to make you respond negatively and hurtfully, his fingers intertwined, not wanting to let her away from his touch.

in the depths of your heart, you hoped he would release her and run towards you in regret of his actions. but given the fact that they continued to sway along with the music like you never existed, it was obvious he was deliberately trying to make you flip off. sober or not, you already familiarised yourself with his habits and mannerisms in the years you’ve been with him. the smirk growing at the girl’s lips confirmed it was her plan, while the look on jaehyun’s face mirrored hers.

he was in for the game he wanted to play.

these whole three years, was there a day he thought about you, cared for you, or even loved you? did you actually mean anything to him? for him to easily leave you with another? the club music began to soften, not because everyone witnessed what was going on, but because your hearing was slowly deafening from the revelation before you. what you experienced at that moment; as if you were shoved underwater and let you drown in your fears of a breaking relationship.

it was breaking now, and you’re breaking apart now.

“jaehyun?” the once dear name left your lips and you stood there frozen. his shirt disheveled from the collarbone downwards along with a stupid missing vans shoe you gifted him for the anniversary a week ago. “you said you were going to..” you hissed, and swallowed the words back to avoid giving hints of sadness. “..nevermind.”

the girl snaked her arms around his neck. “oh y/n, finish your sentence.” she was high, her words slurred but was sober enough to pay attention to you. “that would mark as a closure with him, won’t it?” her giggles shrieking in amusement. what a sadist.

“ignore her. now, where were we?” jaehyun cupped her jaw to turn her attention away from you.

it took a minute or less to realise that your fists balled at his naughty, flirtatious grin he put out. you knew your skin already was dented with crescent marks you didn’t bother checking. with courage— the hesitating kind, you walked up to him to confirm your doubts that has been clouding your mind since you last saw him. the girl rolled her eyes, irritated at the fact you were quite persistent. jaehyun did the same. “so you’re just gonna dump me like that?” you pushed him on the chest.

“if you want to hear my answer, i can say it.” jaehyun gestured the girl to leave the both of you. “give us a minute.” he shoved his hands in his pockets to grab an item. it was a watch you got for him in the first year. thinking that he was to give it back, apparently, you thought wrong.

the silver watch fell to the ground with his gaze slowly rising from it to you. “i’m pretty much sober, but i was drunk when i agreed to be your boyfriend.”

“lies.” you gritted your teeth, not buying anything that came from his lips. “telling me you’re lying!”

“it’s the truth, y/n.” jaehyun said. it pissed you off when he had the audacity to bring your hair behind your ear, as if that would make you believe him. he lightly touched the edge of your chin, bringing it closer to his face. you shut your eyes hoping that this was all a dream, but it clearly wasn’t. “it’s all one-sided. it’s easy to understand by now yeah? i don’t love you.”

“jaehyun!” the girl singsonged as she returned, pulling him with impatience. “let’s go?”

you felt your throat going dry seeing both of their figures getting smaller in the distance. you couldn’t afford to be more mad because you knew that if you did, jaehyun still would never return to you. he already enjoyed the sight of you hurting, so what much more if you reacted to his plan? the long-term plan he plotted against a relationship he was to tear apart anyway?

the heart of yours that once pounded vigorously for him now probably skipped a beat or two, or more because you couldn’t keep track in counting. you just couldn’t. everything and all else in your peripheral began to blur in your own tears. and glad they did.

sometimes you’d like to think your heart had a mind of its own. it summoned your legs to leave the place when your mind was already completely blank, and you didn’t realise that you made yourself look vulnerable and desperate to everyone in that house.

even so, no one dared to come to comfort you despite knowing who you were: jaehyun’s now ex-girlfriend. they watched all of it happen like they do with most tv series. maybe they didn’t want to get involved with the drama. the rain started to pour and that was when you gave in into the depression you’ve held inside in the span of three minutes. great timing. no one would know i’m crying now. leave him be y/n.

walking towards home from here was better than taking a bus, you’d probably embarrass yourself. and grabbing a taxi would’ve been convenient, but most vehicles were occupied or drivers wouldn’t take in customers due to finished shifts. the only thing protecting you from the rain was your endurance and patience.

you continued running; away from the source of pain, escaping to wherever your half-conscious state brings you. you weren’t close to home yet.

what felt like hours only made your body temperature drop to its lowest.

a car pulled over just when your legs were to give in. you were in a daze that you weren’t aware of the vehicle honking at you. so the flickers of the headlights did the job better. the window rolled down that the person inside let out a gasp.

the slam of the door had you turning around. voices battling each other and it was surprising you could hear them bickering so clearly under the intense rainfall and loud thunderstorms. “give me a second! it’s y/n and she’s soaked!”

that certain voice warmed the freezing you which jaehyun caused. you turned around to see yuta, your best friend, removing his coat, quickly wrapping over your heads and led you straight into his car. “why are you out here alone?! where’s jaehyun?! is he not with you?!” he tsked, telling ten to drive back to the apartment.

between your sobs you let out a bitter and husky scoff, not wanting to hear or associate yourself with that name ever again. taeyong let you wear his scarf and lend you pocket warmers to add more body heat. “o-one..” you mumbled. “i-it was one-sided. he never l-loved me.”

your friends exchanged looks and were so ready to go to the bar where jaehyun was at, to beat the pulp out of him. “that bastard— ten, turn around! i’m beating the crap out of jaehyun!”

“n-no! please!” you hugged yuta and he froze at your plead. “it’ll cause more trouble than he already is!”

“y/n he wasted three years of your time just to play with your feelings!” yuta tried to see the bar behind the moist and droplets on the window. “and i won’t allow anyone to hurt you when he’s the trouble!”

your palms covered your eyes long as you tried to explain. “but he made his word and you know he’s the type to bring in more trouble! he has people on his back and you’re outnumbered..”

“y/n’s right, yuta. we can’t afford to fight all of them.” taeyong pat your head.

yuta slammed his clenched fists on the edge along with fits of his legs. “rgh!”

you were afraid of jaehyun leaving you, yet your bestfriend gave you the most fear since it wasn’t the first time he clashed with your lover. he was against the relationship, that you began dating an enemy of their frat and that it was risky. he warned you that they both had quite a rough history and would for sure have each other’s heads if they were to meet again.

and because your cries led to this, yuta was sure he wouldn’t let his once bestfriend near you.

ten suddenly stepped on the brakes followed with a yelp. slight screeches from the tires had everyone going forwards before hitting backs against the seats. “oh my g- is he dead?” kun sat up a little to see the figure trying to get up.

“who?” taeyong’s eyes widened.

“i think it was jaehyun.” ten pulled a lever to stop the windscreen wiper.

“ha! he deserved it!” yuta’s grin was menacing and chilled you to the bone, but you understood his reasons. and you were an idiot to not able to notice the relationship falling out until the last minute.

jaehyun yelled out your name several times, asking you to get off the car. you didn’t want to because what was the point? he didn’t love you so why did he want you back now? he was crying, but he could be drunk too.

when that wasn’t enough for jaehyun to get to you, he opened the car door, in which, wasn’t locked and managed to grab hold of yuta’s arm out of the vehicle, pulling you along with him out in the rain. “get back here y/n! you’re not going with yuta!” jaehyun yelled as he made you stand on your toes.

“she’s not going with you! jerk!” yuta quickly punched him in the face, causing jaehyun to fall.

you jumped in front of him, stopping yuta from more violence. “yuta please!”

but jaehyun punched him too. back and forth of fist fights.

taeyong and kun got off the car to join you prevent yuta. “dude quit it! let’s just bring y/n home!”

you pushed your way through and passed the boys, eyes asking your bestfriend to calm down. “y/n what the hell are you doing?! he’s drunk!” yuta grabbed your wrists. “why are you still going to talk to him?”

“i’m not doing this for him, i’m doing this for me.” you sniffed and the seriousness in your eyes made yuta let go. “i just need to make things clear to him one last time.”

“you’re stubborn but i’ll credit you for being brave. give you five ‘cause i’m counting.”

you didn’t care about getting sick. all you could think of was to bid that final farewell. it hurt when he wrapped you in his arms as if what happened earlier was nothing to him. as if breaking your heart was his cup of tea. “what do you want jaehyun?”

he mumbled. reeking of the remains of alcohol, you couldn’t stand him anymore. “i want you.”

“well i don’t.” you wriggled out of his hold. “i went out of my way to tell you to stay out of my life.”

he stared at you. it was different than before. he didn’t do this on purpose. three years with him was enough to know his moves and this was one of those that he was attentive now. “i still love—”

“no!” you sobbed and struggled to catch your breath, soon pushing his shoulder and though he didn’t budge, he probably got the message. “don’t start with that word! for all i care you could be the all-star player girls love— but you’re never ever going to win my heart again! you don’t even love me to begin with and you said it yourself!”

you brushed him as jaehyun tried to reach out for you. “how many trophies have you kept on your shelf, hm? i’d say five.. ah, twenty?” you stifle a sarcastic laugh. “am i one of the trophies you desperately want to get? how about that girl you’re with? is she part of the collection too?”

he stayed quiet, and you expected this anyway. “i’ll never be enough for you. goodbye jae.” you sighed.

jaehyun saw that yuta was already waiting. he had you in his arms, giving the middle finger at him before you both entered the car. it wasn’t that you fell short, it was him. indeed it was true that you were a prize he achieved, but even all-star players had their insecurities too. he just didn’t share with you, rather he chose not to.

because what would he get in return? just a little word of encouragement would make him feel better? no, of course not. he didn’t want that and you couldn’t give what he wanted from you. the car vanished in the distance.

so did your peripheral when you looked back.

some reason, you felt better. the company of your friends now were better than jaehyun, in all the three years combined.

“hey, y/n. you didn’t take five minutes.” yuta nudged you lightly. “he’s not worth it.”

you fell silent as you deleted a picture of jaehyun posing with his watch from a year ago. tears brimmed your eyes but you promised yourself just now to never cry because of him. “i’m gonna sleep. wake me up when we arrive home.”

yeah. you counted as well. it took three years to realise how dumb you actually were and how jaehyun wasn’t the person you knew but..

it took three minutes to decide to let him go.

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Xia Yan’s Personal Story 3-11 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist | Video

Translated Chapter 3: 3-1 / 3-2 / 3-3 / 3-4 / 3-6 / 3-7 / 3-8 / 3-10 / 3-11 / 3-12 / 3-14

See below cut!

--

Little Alley

Xia Yan walked into that alley.

Xia Yan: I’m here. You can let Tian Xin go.

Meng Qishan whistled.

Meng Qishan: You finally came out, Sphinx.

Xia Yan: Wrong. I’m called Xia Yan, a detective.

Meng Qishan: No problem, no problem. I get it. No one’s willing to be truthful as soon as they step up.

Meng Qishan: Gotta properly “greet” them first.

As he spoke, he tapped the steel pipe in his hand.

Xia Yan: Oh?

With a beckon of Meng Qishan’s hand, he led the group into rushing at Xia Yan—

Xia Yan carelessly avoided the steel pipe striking down at his head with a flash of his body, then immediately made his move!

Bang bang bang – bang!

Within a few seconds, everyone had been knocked down onto the ground by Xia Yan. He used plastic zip-ties to bind the hands of those people behind their backs, after which he reached out and pulled Tian Xin up from the ground. He then turned his head around and nodded towards me. Only then did I run over to him.

MC: Tian Xin, you alright?

Tian Xin: Ahem ahem… I’m good.

There was a patch of pale purple on his face, and his clothes were also dirty. Xia Yan did a cursory inspection of Tian Xin’s wounds.

Xia Yan: They look like they’re all just skin-deep wounds, but it’s best if you go to the hospital for a checkup after.

Tian Xin: Many thanks. That, you two…?

Xia Yan: We’ll answer your questions later. First, we have to ask Meng Qishan about what he wants to do.

After he finished, Xia Yan looked towards Meng Qishan, knocked on the ground and still breathing hard.

Meng Qishan: Tch! Just gonna get shut up for a few days in jail. I’m not scared.

Tian Xin hesitated for a moment, then explained to Xia Yan quietly.

Tian Xin: Before, Feifei and I called the police, but Meng Qishan was very stubborn…

Xia Yan smiled. He lifted his hand, stopping Tian Xin’s words.

Xia Yan: Meng Qishan, you said earlier that, more than speculation, you’ve always preferred rougher methods.

Xia Yan: Actually, I’m sometimes like that too.

Xia Yan: Right, you also said that there’s no monitoring in this place, and the police won’t be able to find evidence, right?

As he spoke, he pulled at Meng Qishan’s shoulder, dragging him into a corner 10 metres in front of us. Tian Xin faced me hesitantly, and I sent a comforting smile at him.

Meng Qishan: Aaarghh--!

Tian Xin: That…

MC: Urgent matters require power to deal with it, and extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures.

After several miserable shouts in different tones, Meng Qishan was thrown out. Right after, Xia Yan strode out relaxedly from the corner.

Xia Yan: Now, we can chat nicely.

INTERROGATION START

Monitoring Tian Xin

Xia Yan: At the old school building, I’m very certain that no one was following us. You… must have hacked into Tian Xin’s phone, right?

MC: (If he monitored Tian Xin’s phone, he could use the phone’s receiver and microphone. Thus, they would have been able to hear Xia Yan’s and Tian Xin’s conversation at the old school building.)

Xia Yan: When did it start?

Meng Qishan: Two months ago.

Meng Qishan: Two months ago, I received an email, asking if I wanted to get revenge on Sphinx. At the beginning, I thought that it was someone trying to get info out of me. After all, lots of people suspected that my resignation from the detective profession was because of Sphinx.

Meng Qishan: But he spoke of Sphinx’s operation style, so I confirmed that he was like me – a victim of Sphinx.

MC: A term like “victim” coming out of your mouth really changes its meaning.

Xia Yan: Who sent the email?

Meng Qishan: I don’t know who he is. He called himself “Oedipus”.

Oedipus was exactly the person who solved Sphinx’s riddle in the myth. Then did the sender of the email want to hint with this that he definitely would defeat Sphinx?

Relation with Sphinx

Xia Yan: What’s your relation with Sphinx? Why do you want to find him?

Meng Qishan: Since you know about Sphinx, you must have heard of Sphinx’s riddles, right? He sent me riddles before, and I lost. He had me resign from the detective profession. I couldn’t resign myself to that, so I wanted to get revenue on him.

MC: Why did Sphinx send you riddles, and have you resign from the detective profession?

Meng Qishan: I don’t know. You both can search online. No one knows who Sphinx will seek out and challenge…

Xia Yan: It must have to do with your divorce case commission from before, right?

Meng Qishan’s complexion shifted instantly.

Xia Yan: That major loss of yours that time – does it have to do with Sphinx?

Meng Qishan: …

Meng Qishan sunk into silence for a moment, then ferociously spat out.

Meng Qishan: That’s right! It’s exactly because of him that I lost face like that!

As soon as this sentence left his mouth, Meng Qishan started to talk straightforwardly, as if he might as well.

Meng Qishan: At the beginning, when that woman said in court that the man was her male cousin, I thought that my luck was just bad. But not two days after, I received Sphinx’s message. He said that if I wanted to know what happened with everything, then I had to solve his riddle, so I went to solve his riddle.

Meng Qishan: Only at the end did I realize that all of this was his setup!

Meng Qishan: He even threatened me, saying that if I didn’t resign from the detective profession, he would make it even harder for me to keep going on after this!

Meng Qishan: Sphinx…

MC: (So that’s how it was. “Your every move is being watched by me.” This really is a “kill a person by killing their heart” method – no wonder the detectives he defeated all resigned from the profession and buried this matter.)

Crime Plan

Xia Yan: What was your plan with Oedipus?

Meng Qishan: There have been people who’ve imitated Sphinx online before, but Sphinx paid them all no mind, so I asked him how to find that guy. Oedipus said that we just needed to reuse our old methods, and Sphinx would investigate. This time we’d take the initiative and guarantee that we could catch that guy.

Meng Qishan: He had me use that case that Sphinx messed up by following that executive’s wife and harassing her family. He said that he already was monitoring all the phones in that woman’s family.

Meng Qishan: As long as a family member got in touch with Sphinx, we could follow the trail of clues and yank him out.

Xia Yan: …

Meng Qishan: I worked according to plan for two weeks. Though the woman and her family were all very panicked, Sphinx never appeared. Plus, based on the results of monitoring them, they have no relation to Sphinx. When Sphinx helped them before, he never showed his face during the whole process, and he didn’t leave a single method of contact. They also didn’t know how to get in touch with Sphinx.

Meng Qishan: I originally thought that there was no point, but I accidentally noticed Tian Xin’s plan.

MC: Tian Xin’s plan?

Meng Qishan laughed coldly.

Meng Qishan: Haha, that “ɸ” or whatever, and those videos, were all made up by him. He wanted to use livestreams to catch Sphinx’s attention, to have him notice that I was starting to mess with them again and help that woman’s family.

Meng Qishan: Even if Sphinx didn’t notice, he could pretend that there were more people receiving Sphinx’s challenges… making it look like Sphinx was still active, which might scare me and make me restrain myself because of this.

Meng Qishan: Since he was going to be so proactive, I had to beat him at his own game.

Bar Expenditures

Xia Yan: You spent a lot at the bar just now. Where did this money come from?

Meng Qishan: You’re even concerned about where my money comes from?

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan expressionlessly performed a “warning” on Meng Qishan’s shoulder.

Meng Qishan: Aaarrghh--! It was Oedipus, it was Oedipus who gave it to me!

Xia Yan: How much did he give?

Meng Qishan stated a number, basically the annual income of a typical person.

MC: (They were so liberal with their money, so the reason why Oedipus wants to find Sphinx must not be simple…)

Other Partners

Xia Yan: You went to the Nautilus Bar today for business transactions. After, you deliberately went on a roundabout course to lead Tian Xin out. You set this up intentionally because you knew that Tian Xin would follow you today, right?

Meng Qishan: You’ve seen things through pretty clearly.

Meng Qishan looked askance towards Tian Xin.

Meng Qishan: With his bit of unskilled efforts, of course we noticed it early on. Although, I wanted to use him as he fished Sphinx out, so I intentionally let it slip to him.

Xia Yan: After leaving Nautilus Bar, was it your or Oedipus’s idea to deliberately go in circles?

Meng Qishan: It was his idea. I originally wanted to track you both and find you. Didn’t think that you would be pretty good at hiding.

Xia Yan: Aside from “Oedipus”, do you have any other partners?

Meng Qishan: I don’t know. Oedipus and I have only chatted and kept in touch through email and online. We’ve never met. I don’t know if he’s male or female, or a single person or a group of people.

Xia Yan: Open your inbox.

Complying with his words, Meng Qishan opened his email inbox. Xia Yan inspected the email address and tried to do a reverse search.

Xia Yan: He used a lot of jumping boards. There’s no way to track his IP.

MC: Has “Oedipus” reached out to other detectives who have been defeated by Sphinx, like you?

Meng Qishan: Don’t know. Probably.

Xia Yan: Make it clear.

Meng Qishan: Tch… [laughs]

Meng Qishan: I kept operating in accordance with Oedipus’s plan, but Sphinx never appeared. So I asked, is this method alright? Is it reliable? Back then, he divulged one sentence, saying that lots of people were working at the same time, so we’d definitely find Sphinx.

Xia Yan and I looked at each other, seeing the worry in each others’ eyes.

INTERROGATION END

 After interrogating Meng Qishan, we called the police. After the police found out about the details of the case, they immediately planned to bring away the things in Tian Xin’s house as evidence. Thus, after receiving Tian Xin’s agreement, we decided to go to Tian Xin’s house first to inspect it.

Tian Xin: Big bro Xia, you don’t plan to wait for the police to deal with it?

Xia Yan: That’s not the case. It’s just that there are so many cases that the police have to deal with. With the amount of attention they can split towards this, I might as well do it. 

Xia Yan: Plus, they know very little about Sphinx. If they really are going to investigate, I feel like doing it myself would be faster instead.

Tian Xin: So amazing…

Tian Xin: It would be great if I could be as amazing as big bro Xia.

Tian Xin’s tone carried a bit of bitterness and disappointment. Xia Yan and I shared a look.

MC: Tian Xin, you’re also very great. You must have done your best to think up of this method because your friend’s family unfortunately encountered Meng Qishan’s harassing.

Xia Yan: Yeah, it’s thanks to your efforts that Meng Qishan has been caught by the police now.

Tian Xin: Thank you, although… you two don’t need to comfort me. Though I’ve just started university, I’m still an adult. I’m very clear on how capable I am.

Tian Xin: Half a year ago, Feifei’s big sister was framed by that guy, Meng Qishan. I also wanted to help, but I couldn’t do anything at all. After I saw Sphinx act, I really wanted to be like him. Only then did I open a livestreaming account - but in the end, when Meng Qishan started his tricks again, I couldn’t do anything again. I could only try my best to get in touch with Sphinx.

MC: Tian Xin…

He shrugged his shoulders, huffing out like he was indifferent.

Tian Xin: But in the end, I was completely deceived without even realizing it… It’s whatever that I got myself into it, but I almost implicated Sphinx. If big bro Xia didn’t rush here in time…

He reached up and scratched his hair, blocking his face.

Tian Xin: It would be great if I could be as amazing as Sphinx and you, big bro Xia.

He mumbled this sentence again.

Xia Yan: Me, I’ve dreamed of being a hero and a knight ever since I was small, wanting to appear coolly and knock down the bad guys when there’s a crisis.

Xia Yan: But after, I slowly realized that heroes aren’t always cool and impressive. They often are extremely wretched. But no matter how wretched they are, they still must protect those who they want to protect.

Xia Yan: Maybe you feel like you look terrible right now, but I feel like it’s extremely cool in how you did your utmost to protect others!

MC: From a female’s perspective, I’d also like to show my approval! You knew that your videos weren’t well-made and people would hate on them online, but you still persevered in making them to protect your friend. Tian Xin, you really are extremely cool!

MC: Plus, take it slow. In the future, you can become even stronger and more reliable.

Tian Xin froze for a bit. Then, he lifted his hand to prop up his glasses. The reflection of the lenses covered his line of sight.

Tian Xin: That’s true!

[purplesurveys]

1184

survey by xflirtykaosx

Alphabetti Spaghetti (2/3)

F o r e v e r - y o u r s - F

Do you fancy any celebrities? If so, who? KIM TAEHYUUUUUUNGGGGGGGGG

Do you watch any FBI shows? Which ones? No.

Have you ever been to a festival? Which one? I don’t think so.

Do you have a fireplace in your house? Hell no. Just the idea of having a fireplace considering where I live and the general climate we have all year makes me nauseous haha.

Do you have a hot flask? I’m not so sure what you mean but if you’re referring to tumblers like Hydro Flask that keep drinks hot/cold for a really long time then yeah, I have one.

What decade were you four in? 2000s.

Do you like the TV show Friends? I love it. I haven’t watched an episode in a while, but it’s always a go-to for me whenever I feel really really really down.

Do you like the feeling of cat fur? Sure, it’s pleasant. Same with dog fur.

Go girl, go; G

Do you have a back garden? Not really a garden but we do have a sort of backyard; basically some space behind the house. 

Do you have a gentle touch? Idk...depends on what I’m holding or touching, I guess? Like I would obviously hold an infant as gently and gingerly as possible, but I wouldn’t pay as much attention if I’m holding something ordinary like my phone.

Do you like girly programmes like Gossip Girl? LOL at girly. Who says Gossip Girl and literally any other show out there has to be for a certain audience?

Do you ever use gloves? Only when I order from Frankie’s since they provide gloves with their meals.

Do you prefer gold or silver? Silver.

Are you a greedy person? What makes you greedy? A little bit, when it comes to food hahaha. I don’t like sharing and I get angry if someone eats a portion I already called dibs on.

Have you ever seen a gypsy? No.

Hold on honey, I'm here. - H

Do you have any bad habits? What? I pick at my nails - either set - when I get tense. I also tend to get a liiiiitle bit reckless with my money, if I do choose to spend. I’m pretty self-disciplined for the most part, but I let that go as soon as I give myself the green light lol. Exhibit A would be me spending a total of nearly P7,000 just this week alone on BTS merch...

Do you know anyone called Helen? I don’t think so. My dad has a cousin named Helena, though.

Have you ever watched a documentary about Hitler? Not directly related to him, but I remember watching Night Will Fall in high school.

Do you put hm in a lot of your survey answers? Not a lot. Occasionally, though.

When was the last time you went to hospital? What was it for? May last year. Blood and urine tests.

Do you like HP (Harry Potter)? Who's your favourite character? I didn’t grow up with it, but it’s not as if I’m a passionate anti. It’s just not my cup of tea, even after trying to read the books.

Do you spell it honey or hunny? I never spell it as hunny unless I’m saying it sarcastically or playfully with friends.

Are you afraid of this Swine Flu Hype? That’s gone now, right? We’re dealing with something else entirely.

In the end we all die broken. - I

Have you ever been to Ibiza? Nopes.

Do you take ice in your soda/fizzy drinks? I don’t really have a preference as I don’t regularly consume fizzy drinks anyway, as long as it’s not lukewarm.

Who do you think is a complete idiot? Anyone supporting the government at this point is a good runner-up.

Do you often wonder what if? Sometimes. But I also find it a waste of time, so I don’t dwell on them.

Have you ever seen an Igloo? I haven’t.

Do you get ill often? No, almost never.

Do you ever imagine you were not human? What did you imagine you were? No, this has never come to mind.

Do you like sexual innuendos? If it’s not too trashy, sure.

What is your IQ? Idk, I’ve never had it checked.

Do people often call you irrational? I’ve never been called this before, at least not to my face.

Do you think the name Isis is pretty? ...Welp, not anymore.

Do you get itchy eyeballs? That never happens. Is that even possible?

Do you know what ix stands for in roman numerals? 9.

Just breathe baby, breathe. - J

Have you ever been in jail? I have a very vague memory of visiting a prison with my parents before, but I no longer remember why I was there.

Do you like JD (Jack Daniels)? Nahhhhhh. Had a tiny sip of it once, found it absolutely nasty.

Do you get jealous easily? Not anymore.

Do you tell a lot of jokes? Yeah. I like making people laugh, so I drop jokes whenever I can whether I’m in a formal or informal setting.

Do you finish school/college in June? When I was in college, my school year ended every May. Before that, the academic calendar ended every March.  

Kiss me, kill me, thrill me. - K

Do you know a girl called Karla? Yeah, one of the managers at work is a Karla but I don’t work with her. I also went to grade/high school with a girl named Karla; she was my friend for a while as well, but we grew apart over the years.

Did you watch Kenan and Kel? Nope.

Do you prefer kisses or hugs? Depends on the person, I guess. But in the context of being in a relationship, I do love being kissed.

Do you like Korn? I don’t listen to them.

Do you like watching films with Kung Fu in them? Not in particular.

Lessons learnt the hard way are the best I've ever had. - L

Do you like Lady Gaga? She’s okay. I’m not super crazy about her but I tend to like all the stuff she puts out.

When was the last time you had lemonade? Wow, it’s definitely been a while. Maybe a year or so ago? I don’t get to have it a lot; usually only when it’s offered at hotels or resorts when I go on vacation.

Do you ever lie to save your own skin? Sometimes, but I never let the lie be too big just in case it bites me back in the ass one day.

Do you think llamas are cute? Sure.

Do you use Lol a lot? Yes.

Do you think you are lucky or unlucky? Neither.

Melody in my heartstrings. - M

Do you like Mac and Cheese? Loooooove mac and cheese, especially truffle mac and cheese.

Do you ever eat at McDonald’s? What's your usual? Not very often tbh, but I do like McDonald’s. I don’t eat it frequently enough to have a usual order; I get whatever I feel like having at a given moment. And since we’re here, I’m gonna be plugging the BTS Meal, in stores 5/26! HAHAHA

Do you like Medieval games like 7elda? You mean The Legend of Zelda? I do love that franchise, but I don’t like the medieval genre as a whole; I just happened to grow up with the Zelda series and Nintendo as a whole, so I’ve taken a liking to it. 

What's on your mind right now? That it’s Monday again tomorrow. I feel like I’m starting to get burnout :/ I’ve definitely noticed I haven’t been being 100% at work lately...but it could also be because the weather is crappy hot again, which makes it a lot harder to work and keep focused.

Is money in your opinion, the root of all evil? It’s part of it.

Do you like Mr and Mrs the show? I’m not familiar with it.

Do you read murder mystery books? Which ones? No.

Do you find Mystical stuff fascinating? Not really.

Nobody loves me, what a change. - N

Do you know the name of your local shopkeeper? We don’t have those here.

Have you ever been called nerdy? I’m sure I’ve been.

Are you you truly a nice person? I hope that’s what people see and think.

Do you overuse nouns in your sentences? I like using adjectives, for one; but I don’t exactly know how you can overuse nouns hahaha.

Do you know anyone personally who is a nurse? Yes, I have several relatives who are in nursing.

Only you - it always has been. - O

Do you obey authority or deliberately disobey it? Obey for the most part.

Is there anything in your room that is an Octagon? What is it? I don’t think so.

What odor can you smell in the room you're in now? The neutral scent my aircon is blowing out.

Do you get offended easily? I think sensitive would be a more fitting word.

Have you ever been to Ohio? No.

Do you ever say Oi? Sure, but not frequently.

Do you spell it OK or okay? I use both; I don’t have a preference. What I avoid is ‘K,’ though.

Are you older than the number day you were born on? Yes.

Have you ever watched the film the Omen? I haven’t.

Name one thing you always have taken for granted? The basic things, I guess, like breathing.

Have you ever had an operation? On what? Never.

Do you like things in a set order or doesn't it matter? As much as possible I do want things to be organized, yeah. I get restless if I see a very messy spreadsheet or Powerpoint, for instance.

Do you have a habit of overreacting? I was a lot more...theatrical in my reactions before haha. Not so much these days; I’ve toned down a lot.

Do you think Owls are nice? Sure.

Do you know what an Oxymoron is? Yup.

Have you ever tried Oyster? Yessssssss I love them and now you’re making me crave them :(

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Chapter 6: Lips to the Pulse

Summary: Aika really forgot she isn't supposed to fall in love and get attached but does exactly that and breaks our favourite himbo's heart.

Notes: First of all, hi! It's been a while! sorryyy but this chapter is 7707 words long so I think i made up for it! This chapter also has actual smut! 🤺SO MINORS🤺STAY BACK🤺 I will post 2-4k every friday from now on but since its christmas next friday, i'll either post on the 23rd or the 26th 

If you are a mutual of mine that reads this fic, it's on sight for you hoes if you don't even comment a rating😤 like even a -10/10 is appreciated TvT

“What?” Julius shook his head and gathered his wits.

“Wait, so you can commune with the dead? I mean yes, you can but it’s a forbidden spell. You have no weg though?” His eyes lit up with a revelation. “Could Time Magic be considered otherworldly magic? Because that is the only way you can avoid getting weg.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Aika agreed as she led him to the living room. “but I still get weg but I don’t need a talisman or a seal to conceal it. Time is a concept that otherworldly realms also have except the realm of the Gods, so I would assume it could be considered otherworldly.”

“But just because it exists in other realms doesn’t mean it’s considered otherworldly. Plants exist in other realms, but they’re not otherworldly. Do we know what was the first realm ever created?”

Aika stifled a sigh as Julius took off his boots as he sat next to her on the sofa.

“He sure likes to edge himself,” she thought wryly as she fetched the fluffy blanket on the armchair and threw it over their laps as they planted their feet on the coffee table in front of them.

“‘The realm of the Devils was the first to be created in order to obscure the light of Gods and bring about reality.’ It’s one of the first things you learn about otherworldly magic,” she explained as she moved closer to his side.

“Well, time would’ve existed first in the Devil’s realm then…You think I could use weg magic too if Time Magic really is otherworldly?”

“Julius! Don’t even think about it! Trying to do weg magic without a teacher is quite dangerous.”

“Hehe, I got a teacher right here,” he quipped as he shifted around feet in a futile attempt to move the blanket comfortably under his feet. Aika jumped when his cold feet touched her ankle. 

“Woah, didn’t you just take your feet out of your boots?”

He rubbed the back of his head with an embarrassed smile.

“Haha, yeah. I’m always cold.”

“Well, it explains why you wear so many layers,” she grumbled as she shifted the blanket to cover his feet. She lit up when an idea struck her. 

“Here,” she spread her arms. “I’m warmer.”

Julius stared at her, his mouth open in small “O” before his eyes crinkled at the corners and he let out an amused laugh.

Aika knew she was done for when her heart danced to the sound of his laughter. She controlled her breathing and prayed that he heard nothing as he burrowed into her arms. He wrapped his arms around her waist and threw his legs over her thighs and she instinctively hugged him closer and huffed at how tactile he was.

“Thank you!” He looked up at Aika through his lashes, making her catch her breath. “Would you still teach me how to do weg magic?” He asked softly.

She melted under his gaze and pressed her cheek to his hair.

“Why do you want to learn? Do you want to talk to someone in the After?” Then she remembered. “Do you want to talk to your mother?”

Julius stiffened in her arms and she immediately backtracked “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Yes…” He admitted hesitantly. “She vanished the night I was born…” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. My stepmother, my mom, raised me with love and I’m grateful for her, but I’m just curious about my real mother. She vanished the night I was born. I just sometimes wonder who she was, what happened to her…” His father had always cursed his mother’s name and barely looked at Julius because of how much he reminded him of her. It was a good thing his stepmother came along and raised him as if he were her own.

He yawned and nuzzled against her collarbone. She shivered at the tender gesture and pressed a kiss to his hairline as he giggled.

“I guess you would be,” Aika said understandingly. “I was curious about my own mother too.” Julius looked up at her in interest. “I was adopted. The men who found me, well, they found me next to my mother’s body.”

He winced in sympathy and hugged her tightly.

“It’s alright. I didn’t know her but I tried contacting her in the After but...She kept blocking the connection for some reason…” Aika looked down at him as she smoothed his hair. 

Once upon a time, that rejection hurt, but she’s over it now. The men who found Aika found her freshly born, barely cleaned and the umbilical cord still uncut, lying in a misshapen basket next to her mother’s cooling body, whose throat was slit with a knife that was loosely held in the corpse’s hand. Something obviously happened to her and she didn’t want to talk.

“I can help contact your mother if she’s truly dead. You don’t have to do forbidden rituals,” she promised as she chased the dark thoughts away. While she didn’t remember anything about it, the story that they told her still haunted her.

Julius sat up as he pulled away and looked at her intently. His face was neutral but his eyes were searching. Aika grew nervous with the long silence.

Finally his eyes settled on her hairline as he asked, “Can you show me your weg?” A sharp sort of rejection zapped through her when he ignored her offer. She turned away, miffed. Of course she wasn’t going to show him her weg. Bringing it out meant having negative emotions at the forefront of her mind.

“That’s a very personal thing, Julius,” she grumbled to alleviate the seriousness welling up in her. He smiled with a huff. It would be a long while before they gained each other’s trust and Julius was a patient man. While it would be amazing to see what weg looks like first-hand, she wasn’t comfortable with it and that was okay. He can wait.

“There is another reason why I can’t teach you weg magic,” she began as she leaned on the armrest. “To use weg magic, you often need to channel and control your negative emotions to make it work, unfortunately. And the thing is,” Aika turned to him with a dark look. “I don’t sense much from you,” her eyes flickered down to his lap “except maybe frustration.”

Julius resisted the urge to sigh. There was no need for them to get so somber but it can’t be helped in the direction this conversation was going. He had asked her a lot of questions and made her reveal a lot about herself, but he said next to nothing about himself. That had to change if he needed her to trust him.

“You sensed right,” Julius confessed. “I am frustrated, but not in the way you think I am,” he stared melancholically at the faded crescent shaped scars in the palm of his hand. “I am frustrated by the way the elite think of other people, the way they get to control this kingdom to fit their selfish needs, the way they lack any compassion for people who are suffering. It may not seem personal but I’ve made it my duty to correct this kind of thinking.”

“See, that’s honorable and only frustration. Is there a memory or anything driving it? Like a traumatic event?”

Julius remembered Zara and his shining smile and how he was cut down by his own squadmates out of jealousy. He looked at his hand with a shaky breath.

“Yes.”

“Okay...Are you frustrated to the point of anger?”

“Yes.”

“Angry enough to kill?”

He remembered thanking the rain for hiding his tears as he laid the flowers over Zara’s grave. He remembered holding back from disintegrating the Purple Orca Knights where they stood as they celebrated Zara’s death. He thought of Zora, Zara’s son, and how bitter he turned out.

Julius turned to her with deadened eyes.

“Yes.”

Aika slackened as she sighed.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” she admitted as she cupped his cheek. “You’re a beautiful human being,” she whispered as she brushed his lashes with her thumb. He flushed under her gaze. “Killing is part of your job but it’s not driven by blind rage. Even righteous anger can be exploited by this magic. Weg will only encourage these negative emotions to fester and grow. I will not allow that to happen to someone I lo—”

She paused and desperately flipped through her mental dictionary. She hated that word.

“Someone I like.” There. That was better. She gave herself a mental pat on the back. While that was a good save, she quickly needed to change the subject or this was going to get awkward real fast. 

“But I will help you in any way you need. You want a Clover Kingdom with no discrimination? I’ve got many ideas!” She pulled a small notebook and fountain pen out of nowhere. It might’ve been a little extra but too late. “Let’s start with education, what is taught in etiquette for noble children, and the rest of the kingdom, what kind of attitudes we are encouraging. Then we’ll move on to deliberate economic oppression and think about policy changes. Let’s see how we can convince people in power to be more empathetic and just. A lot of things can change if we change the way this country thinks. I heard the Kira prodigy was going to become the new chairman soon. I think we can start there...”

Julius parted his lips in shock as he stared at her with dazzled eyes. Aika continued listing off ideas as she scribbled them in her notebook, completely unaware of the awestruck man next to her. 

He tackled her into a hug and wrapped himself around her again and moved her arm around his shoulder, encouraging her to hold him close. Julius didn’t know how to explain how grateful he was so he chose to show it instead.

Her book and pen slipped out of her hand as she hugged him back. Since Aika was already leaning on the armrest, he turned her completely to the side so he could lay half on top of her. 

Julius worried for a moment that he was being too forward but she wound her fingers through his hair and allowed him to rest his head on top of her pillowy chest. Aika readily wrapped her legs around his torso as she sighed contentedly.

“Thank you,” he whispered at last. “No one believes that this kingdom could change.”

Aika resisted the urge to snort. “Any state can change with a revolution.” He looked up at her mischievously. She brushed his cheek with the back of her hand with a barely suppressed smile. “Your not-so-little dream is a revolution and you’re lucky I can’t resist one.”

They grinned at each other before making themselves comfortable again. Julius reveled in the warmth of her embrace and shivered pleasantly when she wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. She gently began massaging his head and he felt like melting. 

A grin spread across his face when he realized that for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel any excitement tinged with lust, but rather excited to know that someone is ready to accept him, whether it was his touch, ideas, or his childish nature, someone who was ready to be a part of a bloodless revolution.

Julius turned his head and rested his chin lightly against her breastbone. Aika was already looking down at him with an affectionate look and he smiled back.

“Are you actually going to help me change this kingdom?”

“Of course. Why would I lie about such a thing?”

“I’m just making sure.”

He buried his face in her chest with a giddy smile.

“You’re a beautiful human being too.”

She scoffed lightly.

“Every part of that sentence is highly debatable.”

He giggled as he crawled up to her eye level. “No, I mean it,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You are stunning. ”

Aika blushed fiercely.

“No, I’m not!”

“ And a human being too,” he continued as he peppered her face with kisses. “Absolutely kind, ferocious, wickedly smart.”

She slid down the armrest as she resisted the urge to hide her face.

“Stop it…” 

He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. She looked so delectable under him.

“Can I kiss you?”

Aika turned and pressed her lips to his in unspoken permission. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and groaned at the delicious way they slid against each other.

“Let me touch you,” he whispered hoarsely against her lips.

“ Please, ” Aika gasped as cold fingers slid underneath her sweater. Julius rubbed circles into her sides before he raked his nails up, making her shudder. She wound her fingers tighter around his short hair and kissed harder as she willed her Mana Hands to explore him.

He let out a surprised moan as he pressed his forehead against hers. She ran her hands down his back and hooked her fingers into his belt and pulled him closer as she wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing him closer to her aching core.

Julius hissed in pleasure as he rut into her and moaned as nails raked down his most sensitive areas. She quickly undid the belt holding his outer tunic together and helped him shrug off the vest and ran her fingers under his shirt. She explored his toned stomach with a pleased hum as he ground into her desperately. 

“ So needy, ” she whispered teasingly in his ear and gasped in surprise when his clothed length rubbed perfectly against her clit.

He groaned in reply and slowed down and pulled back to look down at her. Aika thoroughly enjoyed the image in front of her. Julius with his shirt hiked up, displaying a fit body, his lips red and hair all mussed up as he rolled his hips like an erotic dancer.

She teasingly ran a nail up the valley of his abs and he retaliated by pushing her shirt up past her bra. She watched with a pleased smile as he licked his lips at the sight before him. She wore a black, silk bra that barely hid the erect nipples standing at attention. He ran his hands up and squeezed her breasts lightly and pinched her nipples through the bra, smiling mischievously as he did. He noticed the clasp at the front and looked at her permissively. She nodded and let him undo it. As the silk fell, his jaw fell with it.

“Holy shit,” she heard him whisper as she cupped her tits with a wink.

Julius eagerly ducked his head as he covered her hands with his and licked a long stripe across her erect nipple and latched onto it greedily, sucking as he did. She arched into his mouth with a loud moan, glad that he was finally giving attention to her as well.

He switched to the other nipple, making sure that they both were completely erect before he pulled back to look at her with a dark look.

Aika squirmed under his gaze as her hand slowly inched towards her neglected clit. He observed voyeuristically as her hand disappeared under her skirt and cupped her mound. Julius locked eyes with Aika for an electric moment before she threw her head back as she pleased herself.

He watched for a few moments as she let out gaspy moans before he pulled her hand out and bit his lip at the sight of her glistening fingers. He took one lick of her fingers and groaned at the taste.

“Want to taste more?” Aika asked lowly as she spread her legs wider. He nodded as his nostrils flared at the smell of her arousal. She pulled Julius in for a featherlight kiss and touched his lips with her wet fingers and watched as he took them then into his mouth and sucked on them.

“Oh, you like using your mouth?” He nodded. She tightened her hold in his hair as he hissed and pulled him up for a sloppy kiss, a mash of tongue, teeth and lips.

“If you like using your mouth so much, how about you put it to a better use?” Aika growled as she guided his head down her body.

She hiked up her skirt and Julius’ breath hitched at the sight of her wet lace panties and the dagger strapped to her right thigh. He was completely pressed up against her just a few moments ago. How in the world did he miss that? 

Before he could speak, she unbuckled it with practiced ease and threw it to the side. He could ask more questions later, but for now, he focused on the meal before him.

Julius quickly helped her out of the panties and stared at her glistening folds in fascination before he lapped up the juices at her entrance. Aika muffled a cry at the sudden sensations and the feel of his lips and tongue all at once. She was suddenly, gloriously alive, every fibre of her being seemingly electrified in an instant. She revelled in the hot currents of desire coiling through her core, as every muscle tightened, waiting for the trigger that would release her.

He then moved up and covered her clit with his mouth and suckled on it. He rolled it in circles, delighting in the noises pouring out from her mouth, before an idea struck him.

He held her hips down with his hands, languorously stroking her clit with his tongue before speeding his movements with a touch of his Time Magic. Aika bit back a scream and let out a litany of curses as she bucked and squirmed into his mouth. Her legs twitched as a delicious kind of pressure built up in her core. She fisted her fingers in his hair, eliciting a moan from Julius and sending vibrations through her body.

She looked down at the sight between her splayed legs and it was the last straw for her. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, his lips wet as his tongue flicked her clit in a near blur. She arched into his mouth with a loud groan as her orgasm crashed over her in an explosion of ecstasy; but Julius kept going on.

“Wait, that’s enough. Julius, please!”

He slowed down and let go of her clit with a pop. He looked up at her with a wolfish grin, satisfied with the mess he made of her. Her eyes were glazed over from, her baby hair was stuck to her forehead as she breathed heavily through parted lips. 

Julius rested his head against her thigh and stared at her with a small smile as she came down from her high.

Aika sat up slowly and brought him up for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. She pulled her sweater over her head and began kissing along his jaw as she whispered praises.

“Gods, you were so good, you know that? Used your mouth like it was made to eat pussy.” Julius groaned at her words. “You were such a good boy. Good boys like you deserve a reward, right?” He nodded eagerly as her hand inched down his chest.

“Please,” he whined as her hand curled around the inside of his thigh, not quite touching him. She slid off the sofa and kneeled between his legs as she grinned mischievously at him, but inside she was drooling at the thought of finally having his cock in her mouth. He stared at her, wide-eyed as he breathed harder in anticipation.

Aika looked between his impressive bulge and his darkened eyes.

“Can I?” She asked as her hands slid up his legs, feeling the muscles flex under her touch.

“Please,” he whispered again.

She stopped teasing him, getting impatient herself, and unbuttoned his pants and slid his boxers down. Aika’s jaw dropped as his stiff cock sprung up. It was freaking massive. The head was turning a dark shade of purple from being neglected for so long and veins covered his length. It was as long as her head and thick enough to stretch her lips over her limits. It looked delicious.

She mindlessly helped him out of his pants and then looked up at him to make sure he was doing okay. His face was flushed a deeper red than before, waiting patiently for her next move. 

“Please, Aika,” Julius humped at the air in front of her. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Aika grew dizzy at the way he begged. She felt as if she was kneeling at the altar between his legs, praying up to the idol that lay in the middle. She was caught by the sudden urge to worship, to praise every inch of his skin. A bead of pre-cum gathered at the tip of his cock and all her restraint left.

Lush lips closed over the head of his cock and Aika sucked and sucked, moaning at the taste. Julius let out an incoherent yell as his hands flew to her head. He quite literally saw stars. It was an effort to hold back, to not thrust deeply in the hot cavern of her mouth as waves of pleasure enveloped him. 

“Fuck!”

She bobbed her head down as far as she could as one hand played with his taunt balls. Tears gathered at her lashes as the tip hit the back of her throat every single thrust.

Aika pulled back and sucked the tip harder as she swiped her tongue around the slit. She used her warm hands to pump his length as her Mana Hands roamed his body, playing with his sensitive nipples, wringing his head back by pulling his hair.

Julius did not hold back with his words. All kinds of praises rolled off of his tongue as he lightly thrust into her mouth.

“Fuck, you look so hot with your lips around me. Ah-you use your tongue so well. Mmm, just like that,” he groaned.

 Aika moaned when he twitched in her mouth. She understood that he was close, so she stretched her jaw wide, swiftly pressed forward and wrapped her lips around the base of cock as he came, whispering her name. Her eyes rolled back into her head as his thick load hit the back of her throat. 

She swallowed thickly and pulled back with a sigh and held his softening dick in one hand as she pressed featherlight kisses to the head.

“Are you okay?” Julius asked softly as he brushed the hair out of her face. Aika smiled as she continued kissing lightly down his length.

“I’m more than okay,” she murmured cheekily, nuzzling the downy hair at the base. She quickly climbed into his lap and straddled him while avoiding pressing down. She hugged him tight and buried her face in his neck.

“I liked choking on your dick,” she giggled.

“Hey!” He exclaimed as her words sent a thrill down his spine. “I can’t do a second round yet!”

In the end, they were both too tired for a second round. They had quite an eventful day after all. The two made their way to the bedroom upstairs to settle in for the night as they chatted quietly.

Aika handed Julius a pale green nightshirt and fleece pants to wear and went to go freshen up in the bathroom. He quickly put them on and jumped underneath the covers and shivered. Despite the normal temperature in the room, Julius was always cold, much to his dismay, but it was quite nice to bury himself in blankets and keep a comfortable temperature. 

He was staring pensively at the sheets when Aika walked out. She wore a shirt and comfortable shorts and had her arms behind her back as if she was hiding something.

 When he looked at her curiously, she revealed a pair of fluffy socks with a huge smile and waved them at him.

“Ta-da!”

Julius sat up with a chuckle. That was quite thoughtful of her.

“Are those for me?”

“Yes,” she sidled up to him. “I could keep your feet warm for you, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

“That’s...very nice of you.” She was one of the few people who wasn’t intimidated by him and spoke so frankly with him. Being with someone just as himself felt so new and interesting. He gave her one of his bright smiles. “Thank you.”

Aika fought off a blush and busied herself by putting the socks on for him. He pulled her up for a hug and held her close. She wrapped both her arms around his neck and fell back onto the bed. Julius pressed little kisses on her collarbone and neck and settled his head on her shoulder with a big yawn.

“Goodnight, Aika,” Julius murmured.

“Goodnight, Julius,” she whispered back and pressed a kiss to his hair.

She stared up at the ceiling for a moment before she understood that she wasn’t going to fall asleep tonight either. She sighed heavily into Julius’ hair.

Using forbidden magic had cost Aika a part of her humanity: the part that sleeps. She needed to be incredibly tired or sedated with horse tranquilizers to be put to sleep, there was simply no other way. In the beginning, it was jarring to not be able to sleep and a little harsh on her eyes for being open so long. When she tried sleeping again, she would be constantly plagued by inescapable visions of the future, the far-off future, like visions of a dark tree and the world being overrun by darkness, and it all starts in this kingdom. 

Aika was grateful she couldn’t see her immediate future unless she concentrated but visions of worlds ending and dead family weren’t good for her mental health either. 

She preferred to focus on the upsides like more time available for her to get her paperwork done and focus on things she enjoyed doing during the day or even travel and check in on her departments as she did.

Working for one of only four international companies makes Aika a pretty busy woman so she was grateful for the extra time. The company began as a means to establish a global spy and information network but it quickly escalated into an operation that dipped its toes into nearly every industry. She was particularly fond of the R&D and Education & Career development departments and paid very close attention to them. In fact, she had to approve a big budget change for a major building project from R&D. Something about finally figuring out how to use a counterweight to construct tall buildings and be able to withstand winds.

She eyed her backpack which rested on the desk against the wall on her side. It had all the papers that she needed to look over and sign. The paper explaining the details was rather long, so if she could finish going over it by the end of the night, that would be perfect.

Aika could use Mana Zone to extend the range of her Mana Hands spell to get that backpack but she could wake Julius up. She checked to make sure he was asleep and he was, quietly snoring away with a little smile on his face. 

She envied people who can sleep with a smile on their faces.

And just as she was about to reach for her bag, Julius shifted in her arms and looked up groggily.

“Wha—” He looked warily at the arm reaching out. “Go to sleep,” he sighed as he made himself comfortable again. “Let’s go on a date sometime. I’ll make a really good sandwich,” murmured sleepily before growing still again. 

What? A date? 

His words felt like she had been dunked with a bucket of ice water. Aika finally realized what she did, and more importantly what her drunk-self said. She really let him believe this was something romantic, didn’t she? Sure, she wished she could date, but in the end, she would screw it all up. All her past lovers had been amazing people, honorable people, but in the end, they’ve all just hated her. The aura of forbidden magic around just put them off. In fact, people closest to her, her family and friends, couldn’t spend too much time around her without their behaviour taking a turn for the worse. 

It was one of the reasons why Holly couldn’t spend too much time with her. It’s the curse of using forbidden magic so much, for so long. Her aura changes good people to turn into someone they are not. The loneliness must be really catching up to her because she forgot herself for a moment and let him in. If she hung around him for another week or two, he would go from being this sweet, adorable man to being an utter asshole to her and everyone around him.

She can’t do this.

Aika looked down at his messy, blond hair and listened to him breathe. He tilted his head back, eyes still closed and a small smile spread across his face.

Her mind went blank. Her heart beat harder in her chest. Butterflies she thought had died years ago had suddenly roared back to life. 

Her head hurt. She felt like crying.

She let herself be vulnerable too. She let herself fall for him, even if it’s just a little bit. She told herself to breathe. 

It’s someone you barely know.

But Aika knew damn well that some strangers have affected her life a lot in the first few moments she had met them. She looked at him again. Was he one of them?

She craved the intimacy, but in the end it was all ruined because of her stupid decison to study and master forbidden magic. Of course it was very useful and empowering, putting her at the top of the chain, but at what cost?

Aika simply couldn’t be around another person nearly 24/7 like she would be if she was in a serious relationship. She let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her eyes. It’s just a crush. It doesn’t matter.

She gently slipped his arms off of her and gave him a pillow as a substitute. He snuggled into it with another one of his adorable smiles, causing Aika’s breath to hitch. She gripped the sheets as she looked away and emptied her head. 

She had a lot of work to do.

Aika hummed tunelessly as she carefully pulled out the sfougato, a greek-style quiche-like omelette, from the oven. She finished reading the report from last night, washed Julius’ clothes, fixed the stone tablet protecting this house, destroyed the explosive token hovering in the living room, sent out her letters and even finished working out. 

She smiled at the night well-spent, but her mood was quickly clouded over by the fact that she had to turn Julius down. Not only that, but she also had to somehow salvage it to resemble some form of professionalism. 

If Aika was being honest, she liked Julius a lot. He was incredibly handsome, smart, strong and a Time Mage to boot. His most attractive traits were his kind eyes, his easy smile and most importantly, his willingness to be vulnerable. That sort of purity drew Aika in like a moth to a flame. She wasn’t kind, and she certainly didn’t smile often, but it was easy to be like that around him. Her guard did fly up once or twice but she wasn’t as high strung around him. She felt oddly safe.

She cut the quiche into slices and wiped her hands on her apron. She turned around and looked at the garden out her window. The rising sun felt warm and comforting on her skin, gently soothing the lump in her throat. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, soaking in the mana she could sense in the sun’s rays, mana that favored her because she raised a daughter born from its light. It was mornings like these that made her understand why her daughter worshipped the sun.

The sound of feet quickly bounding down the stairs broke her concentration. She turned around expectantly but she was quickly tackled by a hug before she could get a clear look at the man who had once again been plaguing her thoughts all night.

“Good morning, Aika,” he whispered into her hair as she reluctantly wrapped her arms around him.

“Morning, Julius.”

He pulled back and grinned down at her but she stared through him, eyes blank, knowing that once she truly processes the man she is talking to, her words would leave her and she wouldn’t be able to do what she needs to do.

And then he caught her lips with his, and with unprecedented passion that stole the breath from her lungs. Aika barely reciprocated, because just as quickly as he kissed her, he stopped. She licked her lips and tasted the faint coolness of mint. He was considerate enough to not kiss her with his morning breath… 

“I feel well-rested despite only sleeping four hours,” he murmured as Aika blinked quickly, fending off the unexpected emotions that welled up within her.

“I used a spell of mine to give you extra time to sleep. Here,” she offered him a plate of the sfougato. It was a peace offering for what was coming really. “I hope you like it. I’ll grate some more feta on it if you want.”

“Wait,” Julius looked at his plate in shock. “is this sfougato?”

Aika hummed affirmative as she looked away. She couldn’t bear to look at him in the face. She knew that once she did, her resolve would fall.

He cupped her cheek with one hand and kissed her again, this time much more sweetly.

“Thank you! My mother used to make them for me almost every morning!” He furrowed his brows when she stayed quiet. “Is everything alright? You’re so quiet.” Julius blushed as a thought struck him. “Does your throat hurt?”

The memories of last night set Aika’s heart racing again.

“No! That’s not the issue! I’m just,” she clenched her fists. “Quiet in the morning.”

“Oh, that’s alright then.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and moved to sit at the table. “Have you eaten yet?”

She turned and gripped the edge of the sink. Even his voice distressed her.

“Ah, no,” Aika answered nonchalantly. She could explain as they ate. She shrugged her apron off and turned around but she froze at the sight.

Julius cocked his head at her with a questioning look as he leaned on his hands. His face was half-illuminated by the morning sun, his violet eyes glittered like diamonds and his hair shone gold, casting an angelic halo.

He looked beautiful.

“Hey,” his expression grew worried and he set his plate down. “You are definitely not okay.” Julius quickly walked around the table and took her hands in his and wiped a stray tear. She blinked. She didn’t know she was crying. Usually, she would’ve been so embarrassed to cry in front of people, but why is she letting her guard down in front of him? “What’s wrong, Aika?”

His face was too close. She could clearly count the lashes framing his alarmed eyes. 

“Nothing,” she said quickly as she wiped her face. “Nothing’s wrong.” She sat down in the nearest chair and sighed. Julius leaned against the table and waited patiently. He tucked a long strand of her dark hair behind her ear as she spoke.

“I don’t think we should keep doing this.”

His hand fell. What? He must’ve misheard her.

“This would be unprofessional in the long-run.”

“But last night you said—”

“Last night, I was drunk,” Aika gritted out. Julius crossed his arms.

“I’m talking about after, Aika. What about the talk of revolution? What about after?” His face hardened. “Was it all to just get into my pants?”

“What?!” she barely held back her shock. She was not that desperate. “No!”

Julius’ sighed. His aura usually helped people to open up quicker unless they really don’t want to tell him. He took her hands again, kneeled down in front of her and rubbed slow circles with his thumb.

“Then please tell me why.”

Aika still refused to look him in the eye. This whole thing felt strange.

“I will be your associate and it would be unprofessional. I also have a daughter and I don’t know if you’re okay with that.” She was giving him bullshit reasons at this point because he really didn’t need to know her true reasons. He didn’t need to know how lonely she was. “I have an incredibly negative reputation on the international stage that would damage any prospects for you to network with helpful people if you and I are closely associated. You are a public figure and your reputation wouldn’t benefit from associating with a forbidden magic user and a peasant.”

Julius gulped thickly. He really didn’t care about those. He didn’t mind at all but Aika seemed so intent on pushing him away.

“Aika, please, I don’t care.”

“Well, you should! You should think about the long-term!”

His voice took a panicked tone. He thought this was going well but something’s wrong. This was him being selfish. He didn’t want to be lonely anymore. He was guaranteed to become Wizard King so she wouldn’t be a distraction. He was so excited for someone like her to be at his side.

“I am thinking about the long-term and I absolutely do not care,” He put his hands together. “Please, I’m begging you—”

“Stop,” Aika growled “Don’t.”

Julius slackened at the dark look on her face.

“What?”

“Stand up.” He froze, unsure of her command. “Did I stutter?” He quickly scrambled to his feet and took a step back as she stood up.

“First thing’s first,” Aika crossed her arms as her face grew stern. “don’t ever beg unless you are in the bedroom.” A blush raced across his cheeks. “Second, you barely know me. Third, there’s a war, more importantly, the finale, so please forget about this. I have to go inspect the outposts at the southern borders today before the paperwork from my main job comes pouring in. I advise you to think about your own work as well,” she took a deep breath. “You deserve better than this,” she motioned at herself. Aika desperately held the tears at bay as her mind screamed, 

You’re cursed! No one can love you anymore! And it’s all your fault!

“You are going to be the king of an entire kingdom. I promise to serve you to the best of my abilities. You’re going to need all the help you can get, but I can’t be your partner,” she hugged herself and looked away from his heartbroken face. Her words kept twisting a dagger in his heart. It was better to change the subject. “As I said, I’m not particularly a patriot but this continent, specifically Clover Kingdom, has been heading towards dark times. As a Time Mage, you can feel it too, right?” He gave her a nearly imperceptible nod though his eyes were still glassy. “You’re going to have to lead this country safely through those times, and out of respect for the country that had raised me, I will help you too.”

Julius closed his eyes and took a moment to compose himself. He wanted to run, his head hurt, he wanted to scream in frustration. 

“I understand your reasons and they are valid,” he resisted the urge to clench his fists. “And thank you. I’ll appreciate the help. I have also sensed a dark future for this kingdom and...having a second opinion on my hunch would be nice...I—” He rubbed his eyes with the balls of his palms. He looked up and raked a hand through his hair, then looked down at her, his expression masked with a gentle smile. Even looking at her felt like torture to him, how could they ever collaborate on anything? She had given him such great hope, and then she dashed it all. “I had a lovely time.”

Aika smiled back hesitantly, though her nails dug into her arm.

“I did too...Your clothes are washed and folded on the vanity in my bedroom,” she mumbled. He noiselessly teleported away and he was instantly back, fully dressed. She opened her mouth to ask how? But snapped it shut when she remembered that she wasn’t the only Time mage around anymore. He looked regal and handsome, put-together like a leader as he adjusted his collar. But his carefully neutral expression barely hid the hurt glimmering in his eyes. He was still a man too, a man whom Aika had deeply hurt with her unexpected rejection.

She moved as quickly as he did and packed the slice of sfougato in a box.

“It’s for you.”

“Thank you.”

Aika nearly jumped when her fingers brushed with his. They were soft and cool to touch. For a moment, she wanted to reach out and hold his hand, cradle his face and watch him lean into her touch like he did last night.

“May I ask you one favor?”

Her lavender eyes flickered up to his violet ones when he spoke.

“Yes?”

He squared his shoulders and looked at her solemnly.

“May I have one final kiss?”

Her heart leapt to her throat as she stared at him in shock. Was that a good idea? She was struggling to push him away and this would not help her. But, it was too late because her hand was already reaching for his face.

Aika cupped his cheek and his hand covered hers with a deep sigh. Julius let her touch be burned into his memory. She stood closer to him and tugged him down. As their noses brushed against each other and when his yearning gaze met hers, her guard fell and she gave in.

Her lips crashed with his with a desperation she vowed to never stoop to, but here she was, her walls being struck down one-by-one with each passing second, consumed by his frenzied kisses. Julius wound one hand into her hair and another around her waist pulling her tight as he desperately prayed that she’ll change her mind.

Julius pulled back so they could catch their breaths and pressed his forehead against hers as he waited for a response.

“Julius…” Aika whispered.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

His arms tightened around her momentarily and then he let go. As she opened her eyes, the last thing she saw were tears that teetered on the edge of his lashes before he vanished, gone like he was never there.

Her hand reached out as if to catch him but it was too late. The moment he left, Aika could distinctly feel the hollowness in her chest, like something was missing. Though he was cold, the kitchen felt colder without him.

She stood frozen in her spot and lightly touched her chest when the regret set in. She replayed his smile, his dazzled eyes, the way his soft hair threaded between her fingers— 

“Miss Aika!” A familiar voice broke jarringly through the misery that was clouding her mind.

Was that Jayce?

“We can see you in the kitchen, Miss!” Ellie exclaimed as she knocked on the door to the backyard. Her maid was here too…

Aika quickly changed gears, unconvincingly telling herself that everything from last night to a few seconds ago was just a fever dream, and threw on a pleasant smile before opening the door.

Jayce waved an envelope in front of her face with a boyish grin, too bright and awake for 6 A.M. Ellie and Evan on the other hand, look like they’ve been through it.

“Mister Arthur asked me to give this to you first thing in the morning!” Jayce explained as he swaggered in, gravitating towards the pan of sfougato. Aika plucked the envelope out of his hand as she took measured breaths to ease the tremors in her hands. 

“It was weird that he came to the headquarters so late but he said it was urgent,” he explained.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Evan greeted with a slow bow of his head and Ellie gave her a simple hug, too tired to even speak.

“Good morning to you too, kids,” Aika looked between them suspiciously “but do all three of you need to be here to deliver an envelope?”

“We came here for breakfast,” Ellie said bluntly as all three of them sat down at the table. “The chefs at the headquarters are too busy because Master Raymond is stress-eating again.”

“Oh, alright,” Aika sighed as she pressed a hand to her forehead. “You three can join me,” she said as she stared at the wax seal. It was the official Pascere Syndicate logo. She rolled her eyes. It was probably information or an assignment, but going by the thin envelope, it was probably an assignment.

“Save me a slice,” she warned as she turned away to read the letter.

Her eyes skimmed through the obnoxiously elitist greetings that Arthur loves to write “ironically” and she came to find that yes, it was an information-gathering and networking assignment as her side-job as a Special Envoy to the Syndicate, and it was on— 

The threesome jumped in alarm when the letter in Aika’s hand exploded into flames. They quickly surrounded her in concern as Evan stamped the fire out but froze when they noticed the dangerously blank look on her face.

Aika controlled her magic, lest she suffocated her associates. She had unfortunately set the letter on fire before she could read the clear details of her assignment, so she would have to go ask Arthur for the details herself. While she was at it, she might as well set him on fire too.

The subject of her assignment was Heir Presumptive to the Wizard King of Clover Kingdom, Julius Novachrono...The last person Aika wanted to see right now.

Notes: Next chapter, depending on the length, it will for sure include a brief scene or two from the final battle and Julius' coronation, the aftermath and a sneaky assassination attempt, this time, for Julius ;)

btw this is the picture I drew for this chapter!!!

[redlance]

This might seem a little out of left field as I guess you’re more known for your bechloe stuff but I can’t get over that dexter/wh13 fusion fic you did once and I was just wondering if you’d share the backstory as you put you had most of it fleshed out?

Hey! Oh man, this was a blast from the past haha. Thanks for making me revisit it! Now, let’s see what I can remember...

I’m not sure what I all explained in the fic itself (so things might differ from it and this), but the idea was that H.G. wasn’t saved at the end of season 2. Myka was trying to talk her down when Artie got a shot off that avoided the Corsican Vest (I took liberties with how the vest worked for this and decided it would only inflict the would-be wound on the attacker if the vest itself was directly hit) and hit H.G. in the neck. Myka screams and runs to her, H.G. falls and bleeds out in Myka’s arms. This is made all the more tragic by us knowing that Myka and H.G. were already falling in love a little bit prior to this - so Myka’s dealing with betrayal and two different kinds of losses - and that, as viewers, we know that H.G. would have broken down and not gone through with her plan, unable to kill Myka.(More beneath the cut, this gets long. Sorry anon! You asked!)

After this, Myka leaves the Warehouse. She can’t look Artie in the eye anymore, can’t forgive him for not trusting her with Helena, and she can’t stand being in a place that reminds her so much of H.G.

Can’t stand the smell of apples.

So, she packs up and heads towards the very antithesis of Univille, South Dakota - Miami, Florida.

It isn’t just a random decision either. From my notes;

Because once upon a time Myka had been someone who hunted down artifacts for a secret government organisation, a job that took her all over the world and had landed her in Miami a few short years ago. People had been turning up dead all over the city, burnt from the inside out. It had taken about a week, a few more dead bodies, and a run in with the very same team from Miami Metro that she now worked alongside, but they'd recovered Nero's Fiddle. Snagged, bagged, and tagged. But not before Myka and the then Detective had almost come to blows over territory encroachment. Pete had never let her live it down. Which was precisely why she hadn't told him, or anyone for that matter, who exactly she was working under now.

Because of that connection - and because Debra Morgan knows dedication when she sees it - she lands a job at Miami Metro. It’s not long before Myka realises that she and her Lieutenant are similar in many ways and a friendship forms. 

Meanwhile, for some reason I haven’t noted down, Myka ends up at a boat auction. Maybe it’s for a case. She happens upon a modest sized boat bearing the name ‘Slice of Life’ and feels inexplicably drawn to it. Her father had taken her out on a boat a little smaller than it back when she was a kid and so Myka has some experience with sailing. She ends up bidding on and winning it, and it’s eventually delivered to the marina. 

She starts spending a lot of time on the boat. Every day after work, she goes out to the marina and does some cleaning, adds her own little touches, makes it feel homey. 

And that’s when she starts seeing Helena. 

That’s when the criminals getting off on technicalities really start to get under her skin. 

That’s when she buys her first knife.

Unbeknownst to Myka, the Slice of Life is, of course, an artifact. Feeding on her grief and, basically, turning her into Dexter 2.0. She even has her own Harry for company. 

The first time she kills a man, she doesn’t feel sick or upset. She feels calm and at peace. Like she’s righted a wrong that had been plaguing this world. And Helena is there, beautiful as ever, telling Myka what a wonderful job she’s doing. They talk, sometimes sit in silence.

And it’s easy for Myka to forget that Helena isn’t real. 

So, Myka goes on policing by day and killing by night. Using the boat to dump the bodies much like Dexter did before her. She doesn’t keep souvenirs, though. The people she kills aren’t worthy of being remembered. 

There’s a holy shit moment when Myka invites Deb down to the marina and Deb realises that, “Holy fucking fuck, you bought my brother’s boat.” 

Things take a turn when Lila - who is not dead but keeps having dreams about Dexter killing her - shows up at the marina looking for Dex and finds Myka there instead. Lila, who looks so much like a modern H.G. it’s startling, and Myka can’t help it. She’s drawn to Lila the same way she was drawn to the boat. They spend time together, grow closer, more intimate. Then there’s this conversation:

"Who is it?" Lila asked and Myka spun, startled, to face her. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, eyeing Myka curiously, suspiciously almost, and Myka would swear she saw jealousy flash in oddly familiar brown eyes. She stared back, unable for the moment to feign the ignorance required to ask the obvious question. The one she could feel inching along her spine like a hundred spiders, tickling and agitating her skin until the need the scratch at it became overwhelming. "The person I remind you of. There is someone, isn't there?" Lila had her pinned with her gaze and Myka found that she could only nod, even as Lila took a step into the room and she felt every muscle in her body tense. "Was she a friend of yours?" The question was an empty one, she could hear it in Lila's voice that she already knew that wasn't the case. Myka watched as the other woman lifted her hand to trail her fingers over the marble countertop, gaze dropping and then returning to Myka as she asked the real question. "Was she a lover?" Myka's heart lurched and then seized, stealing away a beat or two as Lila continued to move closer. "I see it in your eyes, the way you look at me." She passed. "The way you CAN'T look at me sometimes. It's written all over your face, you know." Panic rose on Myka, unbidden and unexplainable, as Lola finally rounded the counter and leaned against it, her body now parallel to Myka's. "It just gets so dark sometimes." She made it sound like something to wonder over. Marvell at. "She must a been a very passionate-"

"We weren't lovers." Myka blurted, suddenly desperate for Lila to stop and she did, stunned into momentary silence by the apparently unexpected revelation. Her eyes were wide with something close to fear, something Lila seemed to take in stride.

"But you wanted to be." It wasn't a question. Myka's eyes drooped and she crossed her arms over her chest, looking away. "Well," And it was strange how much Lila could press into one word, how her looks could burn into you in less than a second. It was another thing that made Myka remember. "I can't imagine that she wasn't interested." But the way Lila leered, all unabashed obviousness, that was different. "What was it then? Was she married? Afraid? Or were you two some kind of Shakespearian star crossed lovers?" Myka's posture stiffened and then sagged dramatically the longer Lila stared at her, knowingly. As if she already knew the answer and was waiting to see if Myka would provide the correct one or not. As if she was testing her.

"A bit of all three, I think." Myka said through a sigh and Lila's lips turned upward briefly, as if Myka's answer had pleased her in some way. "It just... It wasn't..." She swallowed hard and then turned away, opening one of the kitchen cupboards and reaching for a mug, only to pause as her fingers brushed smoother porcelain. "I can't talk about this." She left the mug where it was and closed the cupboard, turning instead to the fridge and opening it to retrieve a bottle. She offered it to Lila without looking and then grabbed another for herself.

"Can't or won't?" She threw a glare at the other woman as she closed the heavy silver door with her hip and reached for the draw that housed a bottle opened amid various other odds and ends.

"Both." She said, a stern edge to her voice as she snapped the cap off and then handed the opener to Lila. The woman took it, deliberately brushing her fingers against Myka's in the exchange, and Myka yanked her hand back as though she'd accidentally slipped it into a fire. Lila caught her gaze and smirked before turning her attention to the beer in her hand.

“You know,” she started slowly, after taking a long draw from the bottle, “the man I came here looking for, he was the thing I wouldn't talk about for the longest time.” Myka thumbed the neck of her bottle and watched as Lila's attention drifted around the room. “I thought about him a lot, every day, but I never spoke about him out loud. I kept him close like a secret, until one day the silence almost broke me. I’d lost him, or at least I thought I had, and I don't think I’ve experienced pain that profound before. I loved him, but he...” she sighed, taking another swig of amber liquid turned green by the thick glass. “He had other priorities. Ones he put before me. I guess I loved him more than he loved me.” She smiled then, though Myka could tell it was forced. “He's my one that got away.” Silence then, empty and stretching as the seconds ticked by.

“She didn't get away.” Myka said at length. “She was taken from me.” And there was so much sour distaste to her tone, so much venom and contempt. She could feel it swimming in her veins, being pumped through her body by a heart that beat now only because it thought it should. Lila's expression changed at the sound of it, morphed into a mask of pity and sorrow that was headed by a frown.

“How did it happen?” The question didn't hurt, surprisingly, and neither did the memory of the moment as it flickered to life like a piece of video playback embedded in her brain. But there was a dull, numb ache. One that permeated her entire being.

Helena is always there, lingering in the shadows. Even while Lila is in her bed. 

Eventually, long story short, Myka ends up somewhat naturally neutralizing the artifact that is the Slice of Life. She, like Dexter, had found something worth more than killing. With the boat no longer in need of gooing, Myka won’t have to deal with feeling the repercussions of her otherwise OOC actions, and she’s left to live her life with Lila.

Or something like that. ;)

[gaiatheorist]

“50% Feminine.”

I’m going mad again, I’m listing probable reasons, but going mad isn’t reasonable, it’s something that just happens to me from time to time. This is one of the slow, creepy-uppy episodes, not one of the sudden, explosive ones, possibly less dangerous, but incredibly draining. It’ll pass, it always does, it had better do, it’s bloody horrible.

Standard disclaimer, I am at increased risk of harm, but I have no intent or ideation of deliberately harming myself, apart from drinking too much cheap-and-nasty wine, which is my standard maladaptive coping mechanism.

I woke up at 1.30am, and, after a brief discussion with my wonky brain, acknowledged that I was Awake-awake, and there was no chance of going back to sleep. This will have a knock-on effect for a few days, there’s a fair chance I’ll fall asleep in my dinner, but it’s mostly containable. (The madness, as well as the dinner.) Scrolling through Twitter, to see if I’d ‘missed anything’, I found a link to ‘My Gender Coordinates’, and decided to take the quiz, no better or worse use of my time than a Fakebook quiz to tell me what sort of sandwich, or shoe I am.

There are 35 questions, I can’t remember exactly how they’re worded, but it’s along the lines of “I am...” or “I consider myself...” about various character traits, or behaviours, you ‘answer’ on a sliding scale from double-thumbs-up to double-thumbs-down. There’s a ‘middle’ option, which, when I’m going mad, is always a bit tempting, I’m indifferent, I don’t care much about much when I’m in this state.(Until I do, and get all emotionally peaky, HATING an empty shampoo bottle on the bathroom floor, but refusing to move it, because it’s not mine, or finding myself close to tears because I think I’ve offended someone, and not quite knowing how to check.) 

The ‘results’ come out on a quadrant-graph thingy, Masculine/Androgynous/Undifferentiated/Feminine, I deliberately didn’t look at that first, because I would have skewed my answers, aiming for ‘undifferentiated’, I’m awkward like that. My results were that I ‘fall between quadrants’, no big surprise there, my dot was bang on the line between ‘masculine’ and ‘androgynous’, all in the top half of the square, ‘68.3% Masculine, 50% Feminine’, I don’t know how that works, it’s numbers, and maths and stuff, and my brain doesn’t work like that. (Haha, because I’m a girl, and girls are better at biology than physics. Bullshit.) 

What does it mean? In all likelihood, nothing, it does look kind-of scientific, which is why I answered all of the questions, instead of giving up at the first hint of a cartoon dinosaur, or a ‘pick which colour-scheme appeals to you’. (Cartoon dinosaurs are my new pet hate, I’ve recently had to wade back through the clip-art infested worksheets from the last mental health course, and I’m fairly certain I’ve imagined a cartoon dinosaur, but that’s a tangent I’ll try to avoid.) I have strong opinions on the concept of gender, for however-many years I’ve been writing on here, I’ve identified as ‘meat no-one eats’, my biological sex is female, and my uterus is certainly reminding me of that fact this week. My gender? Human. Probably. 

“Identified as”, how very modern, it’s not ‘really’ a new thing, to me, or the world, what I’m trying to do here is type out a safe-release, to vent, I suppose it all boils down to my resentment of being ‘told’. There are vague childhood memories of being told “Ladies do/don’t do...”, and I have a ridiculous rage-bubble of “Yes, and sloths poo once a week, what’s your point?”, too late one thinks of what one might have said. I’m no more a lady than I am a sloth, I’m probably leaning more towards sloth at the moment, I’m overdue a bath.

Working through the statement-ratings, I noticed I was pulling a face at some of them. All of them, to be honest, which surprised me, because, with a diagnosis of autism, there’s the preconception that my response would be binary-linear, black-or-white, always/never. It wasn’t, my response was invariably “That’s a stupid question.”, and they weren’t questions, for every single statement, I decided “Unable to answer without context.”, and had to imagine a scenario to contextualise “I am generous” or “I am decisive”, or whatever. ( I *am* decisive, given sufficient context.) I need to watch that I don’t fall into a psychopath/sociopath rabbit-hole here, my sometimes-linear approach could be viewed as psychopathic, and my bending/masking could fit a sociopathic profile. Too many personality quizzes in my teen-girl magazines, and an on-going desire to name and categorize things.

I was pulling a face at the statements that are usually associated with the concept of femininity, there really isn’t a male-brain/female-brain. (All brains smell horrible, I have smelled my own brain, wasn’t pleasant.) There are some biological differences, most notably the reproductive bits, but not really a great deal else, the ex used to say that humans were evolving to be more androgynous, but I see now that he was trying to justify the societally-imposed feelings of inadequacy that I was as tall as him, with more body-hair. He ascribed to the concept of androgyny when it suited him, lauding Bowie in public, and insisting I was ‘better’ at housework in private. A product of his upbringing, but deeply coercive-toxic. He enjoyed my androgynous-atypical nature up to a point, I was a trophy in more ways than just my long legs and pretty mouth, I confused the hell out of his ‘traditional’ family, though. 

The statements that made me screw up my face could have been coloured pink, they were the ones that ‘ladies do’, some, I consciously, deliberately-don’t, and some are just a natural hard-no, nature vs nurture in evidence. I have learned behaviours, and innate, natural tendencies, there was a bit of a domestic issue the other day when I noted my son being manipulative, and destroyed-devastated myself wondering if he’d learned-observed that from me.  I don’t think so, my avoidance-behaviours are quite different. I was pulling faces at the stereotypical ‘female’ traits, initially an “Ew, no, I don’t do that!” response, but, as I realised I was doing it, I wondered WHY I was repulsed. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with being kind/sensitive/compassionate, they’re human responses, not ‘masculine’ or ‘feminine’, but even the quiz itself refers to them as  “Traits commonly found in people of the ... gender.” (Androgynous is referred to as high in male- and female-typical traits, undifferentiated as low in both.) Commonly, not exclusively.

Part of the issue is that I associate femininity with vulnerability and weakness. I choose not to ‘present as’ female most of the time, my sex usually isn’t obvious until people get close, and I don’t let many people get that close. (Even before the virus-distancing.) There are ‘historical and complicating factors’ behind some of that, but there’s also the gender-conditioning I grew up with, girls-should, and boys-should, I didn’t have particularly positive experiences or role-models, but, even aside from that, the general concensus was that male was stronger, better, more important, female was secondary and subservient. To do something ‘like a girl’ was an insult, but, by the same token, I was often criticised for not being ‘girly’, ever the outlier. I’m wondering how much of the non-femininity is reactive-protective, how much could be part of the autism, and how much is just ‘how I am’? 

Girly-females irritate me, vacuous conversations, hair-and-make-up, dependence on others, incessant diets and fads, I don’t ‘get’ any of it, and I don’t buy into it, I don’t see why I should, just because my genitals are in the more difficult-to-kick arrangement. (True to form, my son has more make-up and hair-stuff than I do, I can’t remember how he referred to my presentation a few weeks ago, but it might have involved goblins, and a bin.) Occasionally, people tell me I could be attractive if I made an effort, my go-to response is “What for?”, I do generally look as if I live in a tree, it doesn’t bother me. That’s not wholly a girl-thing or a boy-thing, I do know some very well-presented people of both flavours, but I’ve genuinely never overheard a group of men discussing razor-blades or underpants the way I’ve heard gaggles of women banging on about make-up and such. 

Women who talk in baby-voices, women who giggle and simper around men, women who don’t even try to pick things up themselves, I think what I’m saying is that I don’t like women who ‘act as’ women, and it is an act, my mother’s phone-laugh used to make me want to scream. 

Before I became annoyed at myself for placing more value on the traits more commonly associated with masculinity than femininity, I’d had a mini-argument with myself that it was impossible to rate any of the statements objectively. Am I kind? It depends on the situation, last week I helped a little old lady sort out a mis-delivered parcel, but the week before that, I’d sped up my walking pace, so I could get into the corner shop before the person behind me, it might have been the same little old lady, I wasn’t paying attention. I’d viewed the thumbs-rating as a never-always continuum, so, technically, all of the responses ‘should’ have been middle-option, for ‘sometimes’. (There might have been an explanation in the site somewhere, it was daft o’clock in the morning.) For each behaviour, I was thinking of a situation, which was wrong, I think I should have been rating least-likely to most-likely. The situation has an influence on the behaviour, if I had friends, I’d behave differently with them to the way I’d behave with a doctor, or a manager, or my son, and even that behaviour would depend on multiple external factors, it wouldn’t be static-consistent, it would be dynamic. We all do it, we’re socially conditioned to behave according to audience and environment.

I didn’t go to finishing school, I didn’t even go to university, there were no elocution or deportment classes at my rough-as-arseholes comprehensive school, and most of my childhood meals at home were eaten from a plate on my knee, on the sofa, in front of the TV. There were still expectations, though. Standing up if a teacher came into the classroom, not interrupting an adult speaking, letting elderly or otherwise infirm people on the bus first. I don’t remember my brother being given as many instructions as I was, though, and I think that was more to do with me being a girl than being two and a half years older, he did pretty much as he pleased, and was a ‘rascal’, or a ‘scamp’, whereas I was told to sit down (nicely), be quiet, smile, be helpful etc long before the wear a bra, brush your hair, show a bit of leg nonsense started. 

I’m fairly certain that the gender-specific conditioning is part of the reason my autism wasn’t diagnosed until I was 42. I’d had expectations drummed, and sometimes beaten into me all my life, everything was already an act, a performance, so I just assumed everyone else was ‘faking it’ all the time, over-riding gut-instinct on everything, and acting according to these confusing social scripts. The “What for?” streak in me is problematic for other people, I’m viewed as difficult, challenging, sometimes plain rude, and overly bold ‘for a woman’. I don’t speak much, but, when I do, I make it count, I’m tenacious and determined, and, most of the time, completely exhausted trying to remember and correctly apply rules and boundaries, scripts I don’t understand the reasoning behind, and constantly-consistently assess environments and audiences, to avoid ‘getting it wrong’. 

I am blunt at times. I can be articulate and eloquent, but sometimes a situation demands just-enough information to convey the salient point. I don’t tend to ‘waste words’, and am frustrated when people fanny about with “Does that make sense?” and “This might sound silly, but...” Anecdotally, I hear that from women more than men, we’re discouraged from being too much to-the-point, to go the long way around things, instead of straight at them, and to check for reassurance. I speak ‘like a man’, it’s more efficient. (”Does everyone understand what they are to do?” was my preferred meeting-closing-statement, I’m brutal.) 

I sometimes see the reverse-of-me in my son, he isn’t the least bit blunt or brutal most of the time. (He did shout “Stop it!” at me quite forcefully one day last week when I was having a meltdown after getting bin-juice on my face. He saves his command-voice for emergencies.) He ties himself in knots about communicating with people, and avoids most conversation, although he’ll babble incessantly to himself to process thoughts and ideas. (I have sores inside my ears that won’t heal, because I keep putting my earphones in to drown out his waffling about D&D plots and such.) He’s nervous-anxious where I’m bold, he’s scared of a million things that I’m not in the least bit concerned by, but then, I am an idiot. Biological sex is not gender, but neither of us are really binary-gendered. (I’m not going to suggest he does the quiz, he’s so incredibly indecisive it would melt his brain.) I never conditioned him ‘male’, he’s always just been another human to me, but he has had conflicting messages from his Dad’s side of the family, boys-don’t-cry, come-and-kick-this-ball, look-at-the-tits-on-that, and the girly-girl aunts and cousins. Confusing times, but he has referred to himself as a pan-sexual trans-humanist, and I don’t really know what that is. (He hasn’t asked me to use different pronouns, or a different name, so he’s still ‘him’.) 

I’m rambling. I’ve been pecking away at this for hours, but I do feel a little more settled for doing it. I didn’t go off on as many ranty tangents as I thought I might, which is reassuring, this episode of going mad has been mostly-irritable, and I don’t like it. Catch-22, there, as a female, I’m ‘supposed to’ be all pink and fluffy, and nice, but the lazy stereotype of a woman can also be a nagging old harridan, I’m straddling that line as well as the line between quadrants on the quiz. I bet you 10p that if I did the quiz again, I’d be able to skew the answers to place the dot dead-centre in the grid, but I might blow up the internet if I did that, and imagine the mess that would make.          

[janeofcakes]

KYFC..: Chapter 16

Thank you! Thank you, everyone for your support and kind words. It’s been a rough week for a variety of reasons and just when stress was the highest, I got another curve ball. Gotta love that, not to mention your very own Cakey Jane using baseball metaphors. Haha. Anyway, I’m hoping things get better and that you all like the chapter. It has also been a source of anxiety for me and I’m a little hesitant to post it. Thanks to MyBAB, who keeps me on my toes and sometimes adds to my stress.

Here we go. John is on his way back to Detroit to hand in his resignation. No good can come of this. 

---

You didn’t have to cut me off. Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing and I don’t even need your love, but you treat me like a stranger and it feels so rough.                                                                                           --Gotye, Somebody That I Used to Know

Sherlock’s toes tap anxiously on the floor of his office. He can barely keep still, with no practice or even a team workout day, there is little to occupy his mind. Strategy, analysis and new plays usually fill his entire being on post-bout rest days. He certainly has enough work to do, but all he can think about is John. John, navigating the airport with Janine, getting onto the plane that will bring them home. Transporting her to the hospital after they land and settling her into their usual wing. He should soon be in the stadium where Sherlock can see him and make sure with his own eyes that John is well and truly safe. God, it will take everything in his power not to throw his arms around John or leap into the doctor’s arms and wrap his legs around the shorter man’s waist and never let go. Sherlock has spent a shameful amount of time thinking about such a scenario and has complete confidence in John’s ability to bear his weight.

He glances at the wall clock and eyes the red seconds hand as it drifts smoothly around the twelve, ticking off another minute. It is nearly 6:30 in the evening and Mike had sent a text when John left the hospital around 5. He should have been here long ago. The tapping of his toes increases as he continues to think through the day. He had texted John regularly in search of status updates and if he’s honest, because he simply wanted to hear from him, but had received precious few responses from the doctor and every one was brief. It might concern Sherlock if he did not know John more than had his hands full.

Even so, it does concern him. Why is John being so distant? Has he reconsidered what happened between them in Baltimore? Sherlock’s heart sinks as he plummets into the dark hole of doubt he keeps hidden deep inside his mind palace. John has had the time and space to regret it. He probably did go back to the Poe House for the scarf and their tour guide greeted him with it. She would flirt with him and he would respond in kind. Under the impression that John was interested, she had only come on to Sherlock so shamelessly to get John’s attention. A very odd strategy to Sherlock’s way of thinking.

He stops here to consider whether or not John was actually interested. He didn’t seem so inclined, but she was precisely his type, so it was possible. She clearly enjoyed sport. Anyone could see that from the scuffs on her shoes. Her deep love for baggy sweaters, something Sherlock has never understood, would draw them together as well. Add to that her bubbly personality and John couldn’t help but notice her a second time around. John probably went back for the scarf, wearing that absurd oatmeal-colored sweater he likes so much that does absolutely nothing for his figure, and she complimented him on it. They started talking and went to dinner, spent the evening together. Maybe John invited her back to the hotel for drinks and…

Sherlock stops again, closing his eyes and shaking his head like it will shake the thoughts free from his mind. He claws at the walls of doubt, trying to climb back up and escape, but the dirt crumbles in his fingers and he slides down again. He climbs desperately for what feels like hours and grasps at anything he can to pull himself free when he reaches the top. He opens his eyes to see he is still in his office, his laptop still open in front of him and the clock quietly ticking away more time. His gaze shifts around the room as if searching for something to settle on while he tries to think more rationally once again. Practically, John will go back to his own apartment, but there is no reason to believe he is out of danger. The lack of further attempts on his life means nothing. 

Sherlock does not want him to leave regardless. 

He buries his face in his hands and yawns wearily. Sherlock absolutely cannot think about that again. He sighs and opens his eyes, looking at the clock again. He couldn’t even begin to think about sleep the night before and never bothered going to his bedroom. The condo felt cold and lonely without John. Instead of doing anything productive, Sherlock sat in front of MST3K until he fell asleep on the couch somewhere in the middle of Catalina Caper. He awoke hours later, stiff and grumpy until he realized a text from John had been what woke him.

*In the cab heading for the airport. Things are looking good. Janine is not in pain.*

That was at 6:45am, since then there had only been infrequent updates. John would not even engage in conversation when they were on a god awful layover in Chicago. Honestly, why everything has to go through O’Hare is beyond all logic. Still, it is only a day of travel and should not worry Sherlock in the least, but it does. He looks at the clock again and stands to pace, stopping only when his phone suddenly rings. He grabs it quickly and raises it to his ear. The three seconds it takes him to glance at the caller ID and see it is not John slow into minutes, the very air around him crushing the hope right out of his chest. 

“Greg,” he answers gruffly, resting one hand on the desk as he leans against it. 

“John’s on his way to your office,” Greg replies without bothering to greet him. “He’s re…”

Sherlock doesn’t even let Greg finish as he abruptly ends the call when his door is pushed open without warning and John is suddenly standing before him. 

“Sorry. Can I come in?” John’s voice is rough and uncertain.

“Of course,” comes an equally soft reply from Sherlock.

Sherlock watches him move deliberately toward the desk that separates them, only just keeping his own eyes from widening in surprise. John does not look tired from the day of travel and stress. He looks beyond tired. He looks wrecked. There is a stutter in his step and a look in his eyes that can only mean one thing: What transpired between them in Baltimore weighs heavily upon him. Sherlock’s heart sinks for the second time in mere minutes.

“We need to talk,” John avoids looking at him directly. His gaze darts around Sherlock’s desk almost frantically before settling on the stapler. 

Those dreaded words. Sherlock said them to Victor once years ago.

“Yes,” Sherlock rasps, barely able to speak. He is glad Greg phoned him before John walked in so he could face the doctor from behind his desk. He could never make it through this conversation otherwise, his knees already threatening to buckle. He rests both hands on its surface and leans forward. “Greg mentioned it,” he says as evenly as he can.

“He told you?” John looks at him in shock. Trying to appear as normal as possible, Sherlock clears his throat and stands up straight to face him fully.

“He said you were on your way to my office,” Sherlock answers, frustrated that his voice is not his own. Wobbling at the most inopportune time imaginable when he would rather it be steady and reveal nothing. Sherlock takes a breath and tries to use the frustration to his own advantage, trying to compose himself for John’s next words. Trying and failing.

“Oh. Right,” John bites his lower lip and clearly steels himself. Every part of his body says regret. Sherlock closes his eyes slowly. He does not even try to stop himself from doing it, from showing his own emotions. He is too unguarded around John, too comfortable. He never should have let it get to this point or any point. Sentiment. He is such a fool.

“I’ve resigned,” John’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“What?” Sherlock wheezes, his eyes snapping open wide in shock.

“It’s for the best,” John states firmly, looking directly into his unabashed stare.

“No,” Sherlock’s voice sounds strange even to his own ears. He blinks as if trying to focus and closes his mouth with a pop. He feels like he is going to wretch. Staggering backwards, he nearly trips over his chair, but catches himself on the armrests and pushes himself back up. John’s hands reach out instinctively to stop his fall, but stop when he rights himself. They look at one another for a moment with searching, uncertain eyes.

What is going on?

But John doesn’t answer this time. Instead, his blue eyes turn to ice.

“You just have to trust me,” his voice hardens with his eyes.

“You can’t leave,” Sherlock’s words are coming faster and he doesn’t try to slow them down.  He doesn’t care that it lays all his cards on the table or that his body language shows every bit of how he is falling apart.

“I’ll do what I want, Sherlock,” John nearly hisses, slamming his hands flat on the desk in anger. A plain, wooden pen holder falls to the floor and pencils roll under the desk.

“No,” Sherlock insists, tone bordering on desperation. He must stay calm. He cannot let his panic or frustration get the better of him. John is not going to listen if he flies into some kind of crazed, emotional outburst. Sherlock squares his shoulders and takes another deep breath. “You are an excellent physician. The team needs you. I know you haven’t been here long, but you have done so much. All the ladies trust you implicitly. And, frankly, so do I.”

He almost flinches. He sees something in John’s eyes, a glimmer of happiness that says what words cannot. When something means so much there is nothing to say. It fades right before his eyes. John’s shoulders fall as if under a crushing weight and Sherlock’s mind is awash with thoughts and feelings. 

I trust you. I need you. I don’t let anyone in, not like this, but you opened the gates as if you always had the key. What happened, John? Tell me, please.

“John, I…” he can’t say it. He can’t risk it.

“Sherlock, I can’t. I just can’t,” John sighs, shaking his head. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“No, wait,” he rushes around the desk, but stops abruptly before reaching John, trying to gather himself. He must stay in control. He casts his gaze sidelong and curses his own feelings before looking back at John. “However you feel about me, about...what happened between us, don’t let it hurt the team. Please, John.”

He tries to keep his voice even, but it shakes slightly on the last two words. John stares at him with a startled expression on his face. Sherlock’s sturdy posture wavers as he watches John.

“How I feel about you,” John repeats in dismay, but goes quiet before saying more. He presses his lips into a thin line, affecting a grim countenance and shaking his head. “I have resigned. I’ve told Greg and now you. I’ll tell Mrs. Hudson tomorrow, put it in writing tonight. It’s done.”

Sherlock’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He takes a sharp breath, his eyes on John. How can he make him stay?

“I’ll start cleaning out my office after I speak with Martha,” John continues and then sighs heavily. He touches his own temples in a pained gesture that makes him look more exhausted than when he walked in. “I’m going back to my place tonight. I’ll get my things out of your flat tomorrow evening. I’ll ring you, so you can leave while I’m there.”

“John, no!” Sherlock truly is desperate now and doesn’t give a shit about hiding it or anything else. Fuck staying in control. God, how has everything gone so terribly wrong so quickly? “In Baltimore, what we did, what happened. We can forget it. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he pleads with the man in front of him. If John wants him to, he can lock away all those memories and never touch them again. He has done it before. It will rip him apart this time, but he can do it. They can go back to being friends like before and maybe John would stay in the condo. They could be roommates, just roommates.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” John bites out the words vehemently.

Sherlock can’t stop a quick gasp and silence settles in around them. He can feel his face starting to crumble, his heart starting to fall apart, but just manages to hold his composure so he reveals nothing. All he allows is a mighty crease of his brow and the twitch of an eye. They are not together. They were never together, never a couple. His heart should not be shattered, but it is. It should not feel like his life is ending. John had warned him about this exact scenario. He said he could not love anyone romantically and, even if he could, why would he give his heart away after so little time had passed? He isn’t a complete idiot like Sherlock.

“Sherlock,” the name whispered between them catches his attention, even when he would rather look anywhere but at the man before him. 

Sherlock’s grey eyes, filling with tears he will have to blink back, shoot straight to John’s face. The doctor is clearly beside himself, but trying to hide how undone he is. Somewhere in the background of his mind Sherlock knows that does not make any sense. The evidence does not fit the situation. John should be emotionless or even angry about Sherlock’s display, not anguished.

“Sherlock, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Of course it means something. It means…” he shuts his mouth and swallows hard. “It’s Moriarty. He wants to win it all and he’ll do whatever he has to.”

“What?” Sherlock squints in confusion at this sudden outburst of seemingly unrelated information.

“You are right, Sherlock,” he tells him emphatically, stepping forward and placing his hands on the coach’s shoulders. “Keep looking for evidence and watch out for...others.”

“Others?” Sherlock shakes his head slowly. This is not at all what he expected, not by a long shot. He finds his mind shifting from his own panic and sadness toward this new mystery. Part of him tries to stop it, knowing he should stay focused on John, but he cannot. John’s words begin running through his mind over and over again, trying to piece it all together and it takes only seconds for it to fall into place. Something happened while John was in Baltimore alone. It scared him. Moriarty got to him. 

“What did he do?” Sherlock hisses.

The words are out before Sherlock even has the chance to think. His voice is quiet and deadly serious, demanding an answer, but John continues as though he did not hear him.

“It’s Janine. She…” John is warring with himself and if Sherlock was not so distracted with his own thoughts, he would already know exactly what John is trying so hard not to tell him. “Watch everyone! Don’t trust anyone,” John insists again. Suddenly his hands are off Sherlock’s shoulders and he is heading for the door. Sherlock cannot process what just happened or what John said and didn’t say because John is leaving and he can’t. He can’t!

“John, don’t go! Don’t go!” Sherlock lunges forward and wraps his fingers around John’s wrist, holding it with unrelenting strength. “Please, I can’t do it on my own.”

“You’ll be fine, Sherlock,” John says into the space between them, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Yes. Fine, but I don’t want to be fine. I don’t want to be anywhere without you,” Sherlock’s words are coming fast, faster than he can think and he has to think faster. John can’t go. He can’t let him go. 

“I need you,” Sherlock whispers, unshed tears obvious in his voice. 

Sherlock does not know if he said that out loud or in his head. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care what he says or reveals. John has to stay. He can’t lose John.

“I love you! I love you,” he blurts in a ragged tone.

They stare at one another. Sherlock is breathing hard, chest heaving. He does not take his eyes off John, his shoulders bobbing up and down less and less as his breathing returns to normal. His mind finally catches up with his traitorous panic and instantly rebukes. Idiot! But he ignores it and repeats quietly. 

“I love you,” his voice is clearer now. Calmer and more collected as his overactive mind comes to rest. He is stating the truth and has never felt more free. 

***

“You...you...you can’t,” John’s voice rasps, his eyes wide in shock and disbelief. He shifts his weight and furrows his brow, a little frown of lines appearing between his eyebrows. Pressing his lips together, he studies Sherlock intently, searching his eyes. “What? You, what? No. No, Sherlock, just no.”

John shakes his head harder with every word that leaves his lips. He tries taking a step toward the door, but the long fingers already wrapped around his wrist tighten. He looks down at those fingers and then back to the coach, seeing a determination that tries to hide pain.

Fuck. Fuck! 

He’s hurting Sherlock. He hadn’t meant those words to sound the way they did. He’s fucking up the whole thing.

“That’s not what I meant,” he begins, but flails. “You… You haven’t known me five minutes. These things take time, feelings take time to form, don’t they? Sherlock, you don’t know me,” he pleads.

“I have not known you long, true,” Sherlock licks his lips, looking at John like he is a spooked deer, “but can we agree that I know you well?”

John does not answer, too shocked to speak, but he nods in affirmation.

“Good. That’s good,” Sherlock inches closer. 

John keeps his gaze on those grey eyes. He could get lost in them, swim in them for hours. He will never tire of them, or of this man. It is all too much and not something his brain is used to handling. His feelings for Sherlock are so strong and he has no idea how to feel about that or what to call them. John does not feel this way about people. It is not that he doesn’t care, he just…

‘I do believe he cares for you.’

“Is there anything in particular that you are hiding from me?” Sherlock asks over Moriarty’s voice in John’s mind. His eyes focus in again.

“Well,” John swallows, “no. I mean, apart from the not falling in love thing and I told you about that. ’Course I would have thought that’d send anyone running.”

“It hasn’t,” Sherlock’s voice is soft, but steady and his grip loosens slightly. He takes another small step closer.

“So I see,” John replies slowly, full of hesitation.

They stare at one another for a long time, each one willing the other to understand what words cannot say. Finally, Sherlock breaks the silence.

“I know I’m not qualified to explain this. Molly has always been far better at it than I,” Sherlock puffs out a breath, a wrinkle of concentration appearing between his eyebrows. John bites his lip and watches the man search for the right words, marveling at how adorable he is and trying not to show it. “She tells me to follow my heart. It’s not a precise science.”

Sherlock stops suddenly, his face full of doubt.

“Look, what I said, it doesn’t have to mean anything. We can forget it,” Sherlock shakes his head, trying for nonchalance and failing.

“No,” John interrupts, taking his own step toward the taller man. They are very close now. He watches Sherlock with a steady gaze, finally feeling the befuddlement lift. It is like stepping from a thick fog and he can finally see the man more clearly. “We can’t. It means too much. It means...everything.”

Sherlock blinks his eyes wide. They sparkle and shine, and John cannot take his own off of them. He wants this man like nothing else in his life. It is not just sexual desire and is not like caring for a friend. John most certainly does care, but it is so much more than that. It is confusing. He still has no idea what to call these feelings or how to handle them. What should he do? What is he supposed to think? It is completely and utterly baffling.

John swallows and lets his lips part, his gaze locked on Sherlock’s face. It falls quickly to the soft, full lips that John felt against his own only two nights ago. They dropped kisses on his neck and body, hot and wanting. He is sure his eyes must be dilated, his face and neck flushing. John shuffles closer and takes Sherlock’s free hand in his own. He can feel Sherlock’s breath on his face, warm and welcoming. John wets his lips and tilts up on his toes as Sherlock bends his neck down and their lips meet.

The kiss is gentle and sweet. John still does not know what this baffling feeling is, but he tries to put every ounce of it into this perfect kiss. It flows through every part of his body and into Sherlock and back. This kiss, it has to be perfect...because it has to be their last.

“I’m sorry,” John pulls away. “I can’t. I can’t stay. I can’t do this.”

“John,” Sherlock’s eyes snap open, his face rife with despair.

“I can’t,“ he pushes Sherlock away with enough force to knock him back two steps. John feels it in his chest suddenly and winces. The pain of his heart clenching and then trying to defenestrate from his body through any window it can find only to thunk into his chest cavity and fall lifeless and defeated. Resisting the urge to clutch at the nearly unbearable pain, John shakes his head and tries to concentrate. He avoids Sherlock’s eyes.

“I don’t know what it means, Sherlock,” he declares in frustration, not even aware of what he is saying until his mind catches up. “I don’t understand it or how I feel about it, but it’s all… It’s exactly why I have to go.”

“To protect me,” Sherlock ventures as if he already knows exactly what Moriarty said to John and only needs confirmation. 

“Yes. No!” John looks at him in growing panic. He can’t say anymore, shouldn’t say anymore. He risks Sherlock’s life with every word. He needs to leave. He never should have come. He should have gone to his flat and phoned Sherlock to tell him all this.

John turns for the door, but Sherlock grabs hold of his arm and yanks him backwards. John twists to free himself, but just gives the lanky-armed bastard more to lock claws on.

“Let me go,” John glares at Sherlock’s hand and then meets his gaze again. He repeats himself in a low, dark voice. “Let. Me. Go.”

Sherlock does not obey the command and the part of his brain works through every strategy, every bout, seems to have kicked into overdrive.

“You’re afraid of Moriarty,” Sherlock is saying now and goddammit, John has already killed him.

“No, Sherlock! Let go,” John lurches forward, taking the coach with him. He has wrapped his long limbs around John like a snake and any attempt to escape results in tightening coils.

John lurches again and they slam against the door. Rolling them against the wall, John pins Sherlock with his body and tries to wiggle free. When he succeeds in getting an arm out, Sherlock pushes off the wall and sends them tumbling to the floor. John comes down with a crack, the coach atop his body. Sherlock takes advantage of the split-second pause John needs to get his bearings, quickly straddling his hips and pushing his wrists to the floor with his hands. Though the two men are very similar in strength, the force of his weight and the fulcrum created by his height play in Sherlock’s favor.

“Sherlock, get the fuck off of me!” John shouts, thrashing this way and that.

“Talk to me, John! Tell me what’s wrong,” Sherlock insists, struggling to hold him still. “Please don’t shut me out.”

“Get off!” John huffs angrily.

“We can do this together,” Sherlock implores.

“No!” John shouts.

“Tell me why you’re doing this because this isn’t you,” Sherlock is begging now and it is tearing at John’s heart.

“It’s too dangerous!” John blurts, already hating himself. He wrenches his arms from Sherlock’s grip and twists his body into a roll. Unfortunately, the bastard just uses the momentum to roll John onto his back again. He looks down at the doctor and grumbles in frustration. John can feel it rumble through his chest. He tries to continue the struggle, but his heart is severed and bleeding out. John is exhausted. He wants to stay with Sherlock forever, but protecting him means leaving. He squeezes his eyes shut and doesn’t try to stop the moisture in them from slipping out.

“Tell me, John. Please,” Sherlock’s voice is low and gentle. It pleads and also demands. It is that voice that makes John stop trying to free himself. That soothing voice coupled with gentle hands tracing a path down his chest.

He raises his gaze to look at Sherlock, beautiful and panting. John’s hands come to rest on Sherlock’s thighs and another tear slips from his eye. He lets his body relax as he loses himself in those eyes, swirling and deep. Greens and blues merging with grey, all focused on John. They can see into John’s mind and pull free the worry and fear. 

John tilts his head to the left and looks at Sherlock thoughtfully. Warm fingers cup his cheek, a thumb wiping away a tear that slowly trickles down. John closes his eyes again and leans into the touch. He can still see Sherlock’s face in his mind’s eye, smiling like he has a secret only the two of them know. His lips part as he bends forward to whisper in John’s ear:

“He threatened you...forcing you to resign...we’ll do it together...you’re not alone...never alone…”

“Sherlock,” John gasps, opening his eyes and seeing that the two of them are now side by side facing one another on the floor. When the hell did that happen? His eyes were only closed for a moment. Sherlock is looking at him, searching. Had he asked a question? And then it hits John with the force of a truck. 

Alone.

John had felt it deep down in his bones when Bill died, the crushing sense of being truly alone. It took a long time, but he had moved on. At least, he thought he had worked through it and left those feelings behind. Now John can see that he only hid it from himself. Somehow, over the years, especially since his parents died, he convinced himself that alone was better. Alone is what I have. Alone protects me. No real relationships, no love, or close friends. Nothing to tie him to anyone and then coming here turned his life upside down. He likes the skaters, genuinely. And Greg and Martha and Sherlock. He likes Sherlock? No, it’s more. So much more and something he can’t even begin to understand.

“He threatened you,” John finally says in a soft, breathless tone. He meets Sherlock’s eyes and cups the man’s face with both hands. “He will kill you. If I stay, if I tell you anything about why I’m leaving, if I do anything but resign and go, he’ll kill you. You’re too important to me, Sherlock. You’re...I…”

John trails off as his voice gives out. He has no idea what to say anyway, and no idea what he even wants to say. He wants Sherlock to know, to understand how he feels, but he is not sure himself. What he does know is that he has put Sherlock in grave danger. He has killed him with his words.

“God, what have I done?” John mumbles as he releases Sherlock’s face and covers his own eyes.

“He’s lying,” Sherlock’s voice books no argument.

“What?” utter confusion showing on John’s expressive face as he uncovers it.

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Sherlock sits up and offers his hand to John, who takes it and pulls up to sit with him. “If I was a target, he would have made it known by now.”

“And you’re willing to risk your life on the strength of that?” John asks incredulously. 

“Yes,” Sherlock answers simply. “He wants me to witness his victory. To feel the defeat knowing I have done everything possible to stop him and failed. That is what Moriarty wants.”

He leans close to John and covers his hand where it rests on the floor between them. 

“He won’t hurt me,” he smiles softly at John.

“I wish I could believe that,” John says, resigned. 

“It’s true, John. I’d stake my life on it,” Sherlock promises. 

“You are,” John snaps louder. Incredulous disbelief racks his body, making it restless and twitchy. He wants to put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders or around his arms, but sort of gestures aimlessly between the two of them instead. “I can’t believe you’re being so blase about this. We’re talking about your life!”

“And Molly’s and yours,” Sherlock finishes, watching John with razor sharp eyes. With this one look Sherlock makes it clear just how seriously he takes it. “And every skater on our track. You help keep us all safe and alive when we are all at risk. Think, John, think!”

He grasps John’s arms hard, his eyes intense and completely focused on the doctor. John knows exactly what Sherlock is going to say and it is a sound argument. Can he really step away from the team knowing the danger they are in?

“Molly would be dead without you! No one else would have seen what you did in time to save her. That’s why Moriarty wants you to walk away,” Sherlock sounds so sure.

A thought unbidden pops into John’s mind and it sets every gear turning in the opposite direction. How likely is Moriarty to honor their agreement? Rock City and its coach with no doctor…not likely.

“You are a complication, John. An unknown variable. He will tell you whatever he needs to to make you go. He. Is. Lying,” Sherlock pauses to really look at John and, for the first time since Baltimore, John opens himself to the man - mind, body and soul. Sherlock’s mouth falls open at the sudden contrast and John almost wants to giggle, in spite of himself. The quippy coach, brilliant and ever unruffled in post-bout interviews, is speechless. John wants to kiss him. He wants to pull him to his body and kiss those ridiculous cheekbones, his forehead and nose, cheeks and eyelids. God, this man. John has no idea how to understand the depth of his feeling for this man.

“You’re right,” John nearly gasps, the air heavy with emotion. He swallows hard. Swallows down the desire to forget it all and just be with Sherlock. “Whether you’re on the list or not, he’ll keep to his plan. My leaving just increases the danger.”

John nods as he speaks, more to himself, but agreeing with Sherlock nonetheless.

“Exactly,” Sherlock says sensibly. His expression is a bit smug and smacks of ‘There is no other way to view it, John’.

This time the doctor almost does smile, but holds it at bay. There is one more very important thing he must say to the infuriating man before him. John reaches for him quickly, cupping his face in between his hands. Sherlock’s cheeks are warm and soft and perfect on John’s palms. His thumb strokes a cheekbone of its own volition. John looks deeply into those grey eyes. Flecks of green and blue sparkle back, telling him everything, every secret of a man normally so guarded.

“So help me, Sherlock, if you are wrong, I don’t know what…” John’s voice hitches and the words are gone. His tone was a raspy whisper said all in a rush and he thought he could make it through, but welling emotion got the better of him. He swallows hard and tries again.

“I don’t know what I would do,” he drops his head.

It’s true. It may be ridiculous, but it’s true. John has never needed anyone, not since Bill and his parents were gone, and that was fine. He built up his walls and did his job, lived his life and then in walked Sherlock Holmes and it was just....fate.

Words suddenly fill John’s mind, reverberating off the walls of his skull. A song he has not heard in years. Not since he watched a certain movie with his mother. It was the last one they saw together.

I’ve grown accustomed to his face. He almost makes the day begin.

How many times has he felt that way as he walked into Sherlock’s kitchen to see him standing by the stove, making those special eggs?

“Oh god, Sherlock,” he breathes, a tear streaking down his cheek. “I want you in my life. I want you forev…”

John bites his lip. Keeps in the word.

Sherlock watches him with soft and shining eyes. He sighs and tilts his head in John’s hands as he closes the gap between them. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, Sherlock breathes against John’s mouth and then tips his chin down to rest their foreheads together. 

“I will always be by your side, John. Always,” he promises and for the first time in a long time, John believes those words wholeheartedly.

---

Yay!! Yay, Jane, you have taken mercy upon us! John tried, he did, but lying to Sherlock was too much for him AND he’s that much closer to seeing his true feelings for Sherlock. How great is the moment when Sherlock just  blurts it out? “I love you!” and he doesn’t try to take it back. He just lets it be. John’s reaction is the greatest too. “You...you can’t. You haven’t known me five minutes.” Hahaha! I love it! I mean, I’m clearly biased so please let me know what you think. I don’t want to beg, but I’m not above it and it has been a bad week. Any encouragement is more than welcome and VERY appreciated. You all mean so much to me. I’m going to be honest. The next couple weeks could be hard and I may not get the next two chapters out on Sundays, but I’ll do my best. Please be with me in spirit. I will definitely be with you. Until next time, my friends. I love you. Jane

@zentris @221b-carefulwhatyouwishfor @tooolforthissh--stuff @shana-movershaker @melmey-fanfics @louise175dk @technicallywiseoncns @underestimatemethatwillbefun @jhamishw @weirdlittlegoofball @superwholockpotterincamelot @superwholocklmt @ladidragonuniverse @kittenmadnessandtea @srebrnafh @welcometomyharddrive @annecumberbatch @kingdomofbrokenhearts @philliphooper @whodwantmeasaflatmate @gloriascott93 @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow @echosilverwolf @spazzz32 @absentmindedsstuff @swissmissing @shuukichan @maeliandmyself @wtgilsa  @red-pen-revolution @britishaccentfan @dischorde @plasticstrawsmuggler @youknowyougrow @one-thousand-splendid-stars @irina12maria

[juuheizou]

hi take my overboard numbers again for the obscure asks: 1, 3, 6, 7, 8, 14, 18, 23, 30, 32, 33, 34, 36, 40

yES go as overboard as u want i honestly love it!! anywho!!

1. what’s your favorite way to dress?

comfortable and practical, but still all black and lowkey aesthetically goth. my autistic self can’t do the more elaborate looks w all kinds of horribly uncomfortable materials, but i don’t think i own a single article of clothing that isn’t at least a v dark grey and i do love my leather motorcycle jacket and army surplus boots. i’d probably dress more highkey alternative if accessorizing while autistic wasn’t such a (expensive when it’s not super spoons-consuming) game of trial and error.

3. what movie/game/etc. helps you calm down?

the hatsune miku games. i just love rhythm and music games so much, and find them v calming to play.

6. what kind of music would you listen to if you could only choose one?

ok now i know i’ve rbed this game before bc i’ve answered this exact question before, and i’m glad to get it again bc i’ve gotten over my trying-so-hard-to-be soft boi phase and changed my mind. i would choose metal

7. what song is your aesthetic?

lemme preface that musically i’m a metalhead but i lean more into goth aesthetics, so even though there are songs i like better, imma go with helena by misfits

8. what color do you think goes best with your personality?

black

14. do you like makeup?

idk. i almost never wear it and a full face of it is a sensory nightmare no matter how light, but sometimes it’s fun to screw around with fun eyeshadows (even though i only end up using black and some browns lmao) and lipsticks and i like to think i look manly but in a goth way w my poorly done raccoon eyes

18. what animal would you keep as a pet, if you could?

realistic answer: a big cuddly dog. fantasy answer: a fricking seal.

23. do you like soft, fluffy blankets or rough/smooth blankets?

soft and smooth

30. what instrument do you wish you could master?

guitar. i’m learning but i wish i had had access to one small enough for me to play comfortably when i was younger bc i’d be so much better at it now than i am. (ps, if it’s an option for u ash, look into models known for being particularly small and consider going electric. the fretboards tend to be slimmer and my ibanez mikro changed my 4′10 baby-handed life)

32. do you have any strange interests?

play piercing. i’m sure that one would get me canceled if i was relevant bc it’s considered an s&m thing and tumblr (surprisingly, lgbt tumblr) has really decided to turn against that community, but honestly it’s an art to me and i’d love to master it one day.

33. do you have any strange fears?

already answered, but i’ll give u another one. there ain’t shit i can do abt it that i don’t already do as best i can, but i have this weird fear of my teeth rotting out of my head and losing them. i have so many dreams abt it where it’s the only part i remember and every time my mouth feels gross i'm like “well this is it.”

lately though my dreams have stopped revolving around my teeth and instead started being abt my snake bites. like last night the only thing i remember of my dream was the part where one of my labret studs got caught in my teeth and the ball fell/disappeared and i ripped out the post, and putting the post back in hurt so much i started seeing black spots and almost passed out in my dream it was wild. so maybe just mouth trauma?? in general?? though i love looking at gruesome pictures of mouths that aren’t mine?? idk what that’s about

34. what food do you binge on when you’re lazy?

none really. i used to genuinely binge-eat (i’m sure i’d have been diagnosed w binge-eating disorder if there was a word for it at the time) p bad for years and years since i was a child and am making a deliberate effort to not do that anymore, so i’ll generally avoid the kitchen when it’s not mealtime. otherwise i would tear into my low-spoons meals until there was nothing left. haha sorry if this one was tmi.

36. do you have any impulsive movements? (twitches, ticks, flapping, etc.)

so very many.

40. do you like light blankets or heavy blankets?

heavy. if its too hot i’ll cool down by sleeping butt ass naked before i lighten my blankets

send me some obscure asks

[lululawrence]

I'm interested in writing fic but it seems like everyone who writes on here, who I look up to, has some sort of formal writing training in the past and/or its part of their career. I'm worried that I'll make rookie mistakes that I see everyone here tear apart and no one will read any fic I manage to write. Any advice to overcome this insecurity? Or advice about resources for writing so I can learn about how to write properly? Thanks so much, I love ur writing so much

awwww i wanna hug you.

okay first off....anyone can write. and the “rookie mistakes” that people tear apart are choices that some people deliberately make. there will always be masterposts about some pet peeve that someone thinks is a legitimate writing tip and it’s...not. lolllll you won’t see me reblogging a lot of them just because i feel like SO MUCH of writing has to do with personal style. (unless it has to do with the use of orbs because that is my personal pet peeve like PLEASE DON’T USE THE WORD ORBS FOR EYES. i will still keep reading if i see it, but i just...it pulls me out entirely for a minute before i can bring myself to keep going lol) hell, a lot of my personal style in my fics was torn apart by my english professors in college and don’t even get me started on how much my history professors hated my writing (it was a LOT). so like...don’t care about that. throw all those misconceptions away. just cause someone doesn’t like the overuse of adjectives or adverbs or whatever doesn’t mean you can’t use them.

now to the real meat of this. as i said, anyone can write. i encourage everyone to write. there have been so many studies about how writing and journaling and all of that helps your memory and your brain and all sorts of incredible things, but it also has been proven to help with mental health. i’m a huge advocate of it. even if nothing gets published, writing is amazing. 

assuming you do want it to get published though, here are a few tips i have.

1. build a community around you. find friends who are supportive and can be amazing cheerleaders and maybe help you brainstorm when you’re stuck, etc. i would never have finished my first fic much less continued writing if i hadn’t had such amazing people around me. cheerleaders, brainstorming peeps, and friends make all the difference.

2. you know who else makes a difference? betas and brit pickers. you know why? not only can they help you sift through your fic and figure out where you need to streamline, where you need to flesh it out more, and your grammatical errors, but they can also help preread and boost confidence. “hey, you need to fix these things, but this is amazing!” can be so uplifting and helpful, and betas and brit pickers can help you with that. they can also help boost that confidence that your fic is ready to go out into the world. i have several friends who are too scared to have anyone read or help edit their fics before they post them, but i get too scared when i DON’T have them. my first several fics i had at least three or four betas and then a brit pick on top of all of them because i figured the more eyes i had on the fics, the better quality they would be. i relied on that until i felt stronger and found a few betas who best suited my style (and were as nit picky as i want them to be hah). they do hard and heavy work and are amazing. i thoroughly support you getting them. 

because you know what else they do? they help you avoid those “rookie mistakes” that you really do want to avoid. like orbs. (jk. kinda.)

3. keep trying. @briannamarguerite once told me writing is a muscle (and she probably regrets telling me this since i constantly tell other people this too hahaha) but it really is. you’re only going to strengthen that muscle by continuing to use it. the more you use it the more powerful it becomes. you learn so much and you grow and become better and stronger and more confident. the first several are SCARY. hell, even years later i still get scared to post my fics sometimes when it’s something new. but as time goes on, you really do grow in confidence and it feels amazing to see the growth in yourself as well.

4. we always need more fics, so don’t let the fear of mistakes hold you back. every voice gifts us something brand new and previously undiscovered, even if it feels like it’s just another university coffee shop fic or whatever you’re writing at the moment. i promise, it’s not the same as any other fic out there, and you’ll give your own special take on it, and we need it. we want it. we crave it.

5. have fun. we’re all disasters doing the best we can out here in this fucked up world and finding joy as we are able. if writing brings you joy, if you feel like creating a story from start to finish and sharing it with people gets you excited and makes you happy and productive, then DO IT. fuck the haters. you’re brave and strong and doing incredible things.

so there ya go. that’s my advice. haha 

oh! i just reread the ask to make sure i didn’t miss anything, as for writing resources, honestly i’m not sure where to point you. i know some people who are incredibly serious about their writing and they read all sorts of books about it and follow blogs and stuff, but literally all i do is write stories i would like to read. i’ve been an avid reader since i was in first or second grade and never really stopped, so i kinda ignore any formal training people offer and do my own thing. that said, i’m assuming if you’re asking you actually want references and not just me telling you to free ball it hahaha SO i’m gonna tag some people i feel like will have knowledge and advice of such things, but if i haven’t tagged you, please feel free to still reblog and add your thoughts on the end as well as links to places for this sweet person to check out!

hope this helps, nonnie!

@juliusschmidt @briannamarguerite @becomeawendybird @londonfoginacup @sadaveniren @allwaswell16 @fullonlarrie @disgruntledkittenface @helloamhere @greenfeelings @100percentsassy @gloriaandrews @laynefaire and literally every other writing blog out there hahaha help please?

[randomoranges]

What’s in a Name

hi remember me? i write things haha.

What’s in a Name

 “Eddy,” It slips out, accidentally like a long forgotten word in a language not heard of in years – a reminder of a different time, a call from a different life, soft and gentle – familiar but also foreign. A promise from a lover, a gentle caress in the middle of the night.

It escapes from the deep fortress of his mind and makes a mad dash for liberty and freedom, amplifying itself in the quiet room to be finally heard after years and months and weeks and days. It runs from parted lips at the end of a good meal and Étienne freezes, convinced he has ruined this fragile thing between them. He studies Edward, seated across from him, but his face is unreadable of any emotions he could associate with negativity. There is no anger, no hurt, no shame. Étienne holds his breath and slowly exhales, apology ready at his traitorous lips as he silently curses himself for being so careless. It would be easy to blame a myriad of different things, but he knows he’s the only one at fault.

He would like to say that there had been a perfect recipe for disaster – an invitation to dinner, sitting with Edward at their old kitchen table, sharing a meal, laughter, but he supposes there is more to that. More than he can think of at the moment. Nothing helped, it is certain. He fell into his own trap once more.

He still feels more at home here than he does in his own apartment. Even with the new coat of paint on the walls and some new furniture pieces, home will always be the place he and Edward bought together so many years ago – the one they slowly filled and built together. It’s the memories, he supposes. That and the fact that he had been happy here. Had been his happiest. He’s better now – at least, he’s doing better even if he’s not fully back to where he had been (and he doesn’t believe he’ll ever reach that point – but that’s a story for another time) and that should count for something.

Edward invites him over for dinner. Étienne helps out – like before and it all feels familiar. And comforting. And good. And soothing. For a moment or two, Étienne is able to close his eyes and believe nothing has changed. But he knows. He knows things are different and  - that’s okay. He’s worked hard to be able to say that. He’s still working. Hard. Every day is progress. Every setback makes him stronger. But it has been nice – the evening. To sit and talk with Edward. To not feel constant pain run up his leg. Even Edward is in a good mood.

Étienne feels as though they have bridged another small gap in the chasm their relationship has become. It’s easy to talk to Edward. Similar to before. Easy and freeing and nice. Reconnecting. It gives him hope – that they can continue this way. Move forward, in a sense, towards something grander – something less fragile. Surer.

At least he and Edward are friends again. At least he still has Edward. At least they still have this. Even if it’s new and fragile. Even if he’s convinced he has ruined it. By bringing up a ghost from that other time.

Edward remains still and only blinks after a long moment of perfect silence passes between them. He remains still until Étienne has no choice but to let out the breath he’s been holding. Étienne wants to apologise. He knows, logically, that he didn’t necessarily say something wrong, or bad, but the need to apologise grows within him exponentially if only to break the crackling silence between them. Someone has to say something at some point. They can’t remain seated here with nothing to say – with a silence that will stretch and stretch and stretch until it might pull them down, down, down. Back into that darkness. Back into that place they’ve both been fighting to claw out of. In their own ways. For their own reasons.

For the past few years he’s played it safe. He’s called Edward by his name and on occasion, he’s used “Ed” – a safe name for a safe relationship. Something common and casual. Something everyone else uses. Nothing too personal. He’s a friend. Nothing more. And he doesn’t want to push too far too fast and play with invisible boundaries he may not even be aware of. He doesn’t want to hope and he doesn’t want to scare Edward away. He thinks he’s done a good job. He thinks he was keeping to his side of the line without much fanfare.

He thinks – too much.

And so he slips. With something of old and familiar. A warm caress after a long day. Something personal. Soft. Loving. Caring. Something saved for lovers and boyfriends and almost-husbands. Intimate. He tries not to think of a name changed in his phone. Of the anguish he felt at seeing the name. At changing it. At the messages lost in a desperate attempt to forget himself – the botched attempt to erase and forget as well. He tries not to think of murmured greetings in shells of ears in doorways after long days. Of welcoming arms pulling him tight for a complimentary hug and kiss. Of laughter. Laughter and a litany of “Eddy,”

Of love.

He fears the careful bridge they’ve built will crumple for good.

He holds his breath again. Exhales. Tries to calm his panicked heart. Fails and tries again.

“I… don’t think I’ve been called that in a long time,” Edward chances, careful, uncertain smile on his face and Étienne looks up to hazel eyes and sees a speck of curiosity in them – of surprise. This is unexpected. This is not part of their little evening together. This is new and unexpected and there’s no script to follow from here. It’s improvisation at its best and Étienne hopes he can be quick on his feet – on his foot?

“You haven’t, probably,” He answers, careful, trying his best to keep his emotions under control – trying to keep his slowly mending heart from shattering. He can’t know for certain that there hasn’t been someone else after him who has used the name. He doesn’t want to know either. Pretending is better. Pretending that it was special and his and only his all along is better. Pretending is safe and helps him sleep at night.

Sometimes.

He avoids looking at Edward too long – afraid his friend will read something he’s been trying to keep quiet for too long. The status quo is good. Things are alright. He doesn’t want to lose this last parcel he has. Not for something trivial. Not for something he’s told himself he’s shelved and put away. He’s made his peace. He’s accepted his fate. So long as he has Edward in his life in one shape or form, he’s fine. It doesn’t have to be like before. It doesn’t. Even if it would be nice. Beggars can’t be choosers and the likes. This is fine. It’s fine. He’s fine. They’re fine.

But his heart is a whole parade of people marching down the street.

He waits for Edward to say something – anything, but his friend remains silent once more and he remains still. Waiting for the consequences of his actions.

He’s surprised to feel a hand tug at his fingers – startled by its warmth and he looks up to find a gentle smile on Edward’s face. It’s a pretty sight – like all of Edward’s gentle smiles and he wishes he could catalog it into his file of gentle Edward smiles – but he can’t. They’re not his to catalog anymore. Not how he wants to, anyway.

“I like it,” Edward goes on, “It sounds nice,” He adds and then falters, “Coming from you – it feels… natural.” Étienne doesn’t say anything. He can’t. There are too many thoughts running through his head and too many emotions to process. He tries to keep his breathing under control and nods for a lack of something to do.

“Were there others?” Edward asks, shy and uncertain, after a while, pulling Étienne back from his thoughts and his memories of tranquil afternoons with Edward much like this one as he plays with one of Étienne’s fingers and Étienne wonders if he’s aware of the thousands of times he’s done that in the past – if this is deliberate or a call from the past. For a moment Étienne wonders if Edward doesn’t mean others as in people – other men who would have called him such intimate names – others who would have known Edward this way. He supposes there were – there have been. Edward dated others before Étienne. But Étienne never asked to know what names they used. “Did you have other names for me?” He clarifies, as if he could read the storm in his mind and Étienne wouldn’t be surprised. Edward was always good at reading him. Sometimes, Edward still surprises him.

“Yes,” He says after a beat, “There were others,”

He thinks of quiet nights – of entwined legs and entwined hands. Of a gentle caress running down his arm, or his back, or his cheek. He thinks of his beating heart full to the brim with love and affection. Ready to burst. He thinks of pulling himself closer, nuzzled noses and warm breath. The softest of “Édouard” – reverent – kept for moments such as these, for when it is them and the infinite possibilities of the universe – when everything feels right.

He thinks of “Murphy” – of teasing. Laughter. Sometimes even partial annoyance. Fondness. He thinks of an unexpected friendship that blossomed and grew and took a life of its own. Of late summer nights sitting outside drinking beer, having a smoke and talking. Of hopes, of fears, of ideals. He thinks of a quiet friendship that becomes dear and important to him. Of Edward surprising him in the best of ways. He also thinks of petty fights, arguments and disagreements. Of rolling his eyes. Of being annoyed. Of wanting to take Edward by the shoulders and shaking him until he starts making sense and gets over himself.

He thinks of the one that came after that – years later, developed after months and weeks and days of moments spent together. The one reserved for special occasions, used sparingly but lovingly. He thinks of “Hon” – of enveloping Edward in a warm embrace and tucking him safely away from the harms of the world. Of the fondness and affection he has (he still has) for him. Of doorway greetings and lingering hugs after some time away. Soft kisses and gentle smiles. Showering Edward with all the love and affection he has for him he’s not always good at saying – so he shows and tells in his own ways. And Edward picks up on it and reads and understands him like no other.

There are others, he knows, other pet names and terms of endearments that he’s used over their long relationship, but they never held as much weight as those. He tells Edward as much and doesn’t miss the way Edward’s hand curls just a little more around his own. Étienne wonders if this shouldn’t have been a conversation for their old couch, but it’s too late for that now. Instead, he watches him take the information in. Watches him try on these old names for himself – see how they feel, tries them out for a moment. Watches Edward wear the names before putting them aside again. There was a time, once, but now no more. Not now, anyways. Not anymore.  Étienne watches carefully, holds his breath and waits for a reaction.

Edward is careful, nods his head and maybe looks just a little sad, but the expression is gone before Étienne can read too much into it. Instead, Edward catches his gaze, gives him a little smile and asks, “What about me? Did I have pet names for you?”

Étienne stills, his heart stopping and accelerating. He tries to pull away, but finds himself drawn in by a hazel gaze and Edward’s hand that keeps him grounded close. He nods, once, briefly and quickly and tries his best to sort through the names.

“Tell me? Please? So that I may remember?”

And Étienne steadies himself –

And he thinks.

 FIN

[themurphyzone]

Ficlet: Paint it Red

Based on @drakotts lovely art of Dakota reacting to Cav covered in red paint! 

“Savannah and Brick are selling pistachios at the Farmer’s Market,” Cavendish explained, writing down a series of abbreviations and scribbles on the brochure for the event. He had at least five different plans for destroying the nuts. One of them was bound to work. 

Dakota munched on chips from the gas station, which irked Cavendish because he didn’t ask what brilliant and totally-gonna-work plan they were going to try first. “Farmer’s Market. Like a market for farmers. Wouldn’t it be funny if the guy sponsoring the entire thing was had Farmer in his name somewhere? Like Farmer Brown...Joe Farmer...duck!” 

Cavendish yelped as Dakota suddenly knocked the wind out of him. His head hit the pavement, making his vision swim. Above them, the blurry outline of a hollow metal bar swung back into a construction site. 

Once he could see properly again, Cavendish shoved Dakota off and shot to his feet. “Instead of giving me a concussion, use words next time,” Cavendish snapped. “You seem awfully fond of them.” 

“Hey, that metal bar is the one to blame for nearly concussing you, not me. Besides, you made me drop my chips,” Dakota protested, picking up the chip bag he’d dropped. “Oh good, all in there.”

“Right, the chip bag is clearly the most important thing here,” Cavendish muttered. 

“It’s the bratwurst flavored limited edition,” Dakota shrugged. “These babies are good. Want one?” 

He practically shoved the interior of the bag up Cavendish’s nose, and the processed corn chip scent was enough to make him stumble backwards in surprise. 

Cavendish coughed, wafting the air in front of him to get that horrible smell out. “I’ll pass, thank you.” 

“More for me then!” Dakota exclaimed. He crammed the chips down his throat with renewed vigor. 

He had no choice but to drop it. Honestly, Dakota could be so blind to how utterly selfish he was sometimes. The mission would always be secondary to food. He always answered a question with a ‘Dakota-ism’, which Cavendish defined as ‘deliberately avoiding the subject with a distraction and going off on unrelated tangents’. 

He had been ready to break up over an egg roll, for crying out loud!

A stupid, insignificant egg roll. 

Science would never be able to explain the enigma of Vinnie Dakota. 

“We’ve dilly-dallied enough,” Cavendish said after his temper had somewhat cooled down. “Let’s get this over with.” 

“Who even says ‘dilly-dally’ anymore?” Dakota wondered. 

Cavendish ignored the question, knowing it would only lead them into an argument about the vernacular of the 21st century. It was a perfectly valid expression. 

His attention returned the brochure he’d scribbled plans on, which was miraculously intact. Dakota could distract Brick and Savannah while Cavendish overturned the stand. Then he overruled it since they needed to be more covert so Mr. Block didn’t realize that they weren’t cleaning outhouses in the Renaissance period. 

Someone shouted from above, but Cavendish tuned it out as regular city noise. Then a silver blur crashed directly in front of him, and Cavendish yelped as he suddenly felt something wet and sticky splash all over his front. 

When he bent over to look at the substance that had seeped into his shoes, an uncomfortable coldness pressed into his skin. He touched it, leaving a crimson streak across his green overcoat and a sticky residue on his hand. 

“Blast it! This was my best suit!” Cavendish shouted, glaring up at the clumsy construction workers who’d dropped the bucket of red paint. They slowly retreated into the frame of an unfinished building. 

He debated going through with the mission, but figured that the red paint would ruin the stealth Cavendish wanted to use. It could wait half an hour. 

But still. Today was just incredibly frustrating. 

Even giving the container a harsh kick didn’t do much to relieve his irritation. 

“Dakota, I’m going back to the time vehicle. I have a spare set of clothes in there,” Cavendish said. Then he caught a rare startled look on Dakota’s face. Okay, fair. Anyone would be shocked if they were nearly hit on the head by a moving object. “Really, I only kicked the bucket a foot at most. By my estimate.” 

“Haha...kicked the bucket. That’s rich,” Dakota murmured, though there was no humor in his voice whatsoever. “Cause you kicked it.” 

Cavendish didn’t know whether to be annoyed or worried about Dakota making less sense than usual. Even more disturbing was the way Dakota’s eyes seemed to bore right through him. He placed a non-paint covered hand on Dakota’s shoulder, which jolted him back to reality. 

Dakota blinked up at his partner. “You’re here?” he asked softly, before turning away and covering his mouth. Cavendish couldn’t tell if he was trying to avoid throwing up or if those words had tumbled thoughtlessly out of his mouth. 

“I’ve been standing here the entire time,” Cavendish said, carefully steering Dakota in the direction of the Time Vehicle. “The Farmer’s Market will still be here tomorrow. The mission can wait until then.” 

[jchichibu]

Things that God told me.

Hi, this took me a little long to pen down. It’s not because I’m too busy or I’m procrastinating – but simply because I am someone who tends to rank priorities wrongly. Penning down my thoughts about my 7-month journey in SOT (School of Theology) was something I was tasked by Lester, but something I really wanted to do even before he asked for it. Take it as a reminder for me, and take it as a 17-minute read of my 7-month endeavour for anyone who is interested.

My name is Jasmine, better known as Chichibu or CCB (Titus 1:15 lol) and I am 24 this year (it’s still 2018 as of 6:43 PM 31 December 2018 as I pen this on my way home from Malacca on the coach :P). I graduated from City Harvest Church’s School of Theology Class of 2018, and the course began from 26 Feb and I graduated on 30 Sep. As quoted by one of my favourite persons in my life Claria, I am certainly the “last person ever you will think of going SOT”. True, SOT never once crossed my mind even being in church since I was 16 and every year they ask you to tell your neighbours “Join SOT!”, but I never wanted to, or never thought I needed to. Throughout my Christian walk, the OG and most tangible thing was the love of God. I was never the most holy, most spiritual, most caring, most enthusiastic person for Christ and I might feel somewhat stagnant in my walk (but I was contented honestly). I was becoming lukewarm. I forget to read the Bible, spurt vulgarities or flash finger signals I probably should never ever have, think or covet for things I should not and did things I’m not proud of. I sometimes would not want to show I am a Christian because I don’t want people to think badly of Christianity. I am just not a standard girl you would expect to want to go SOT.

However, a week before the closing of registration of SOT I had a push from God to join SOT. I went for a jog and I remembered clearly at the uphill of Toh Tuck Rise I made a decision to register for SOT. Yea, people who are not from my church will think I really sot, I just got lifted my burdens of having 4 private tutees out of my full time job, and now am I really doing this to myself? To burden myself with SOT, full time job and attempting have a social life? I was also motivated to have my routine of working out every morning and even had plans to sign up something with Ling Hui at the gym. SOT is a commitment and yes, I have to wake up at 7 AM everyday for SOT at 8.45 AM and end work generally when the sky is dark. Ok la obviously I just yolo-ed and ‘took a leap of faith’, said goodbye to chill 2018 and registered for SOT!!! Through it all I know that God will carry me through and nothing is too hard for Him. Though at that moment I really can’t believe I’m doing this to myself.

I am not going write about what SOT is about, but I am going to pen my revelations. I did keep a dated record of things that spoke to me throughout my journey and I hope some of these will relate to some of you and serve as a reminder for me as the year closes. Hopefully the (long) introduction above gave you some sort of context as to who I am, and now I begin: Things that God told me.

1.       It is not by my might that I am saved, or that God loves me. You can rely on Jesus to forgive you, but do not take it for granted. Cheap grace is not what we are looking for here. When God forgives, remember to learn something from it and avoid the mistake again.

2.       Since 16, I recalled every moment that I prayed for something, gets it eventually and forget that it was God. Countless times with my knees bent worshipping God in SOT, I was reminded of how smooth my life has been. I remember when I was 18, I was praying to get into a local university because my results were not fantastic. I was scared. But look, I got accepted into my first choices for the 3 local unis. I remember when I was 21, I got into exchange programme without even meeting the critieria of cGPA 3.5 (lol). I remember when I was 22, I was so anxious after my paper because I felt I would fail the paper and that means I will retain and not graduate with my peers (Ely do you remember us drinking Tiger at ahlian? Haha). Look, I scored a D or something in the end but I graduated as planned.

3.       I’ve disappointed God several times, I am in church but I feel like shit, you know. I have had bad days, where I feel freaking unworthy of God to love me and I want to run away. Having the revelation that God has not disappointed me a single time makes me more mindful how mighty He is, and how weak I am, and how much I needed to stop disappointing God. We cannot not sin, truth is, we all have. But we can make a decision everyday to rely on God. The authority to defeat Satan is in me. God loves me so much. So so so so sosoososososososoooooo much what is my next move?

The woman was left alone. Jesus stood up and spoke to her. “Woman, where are they? Does no one condemn you?” “No one, Master.” “Neither do I,” said Jesus. “Go on your way. From now on, don’t sin.” (John 8:9-11)

4.       Learn to wait upon the Lord. Those who know me personally know I am a relatively fast paced person. I do not really like to wait or queue up for things and I speak super quickly.. I know Jeremiah 29:11 very well but I still plan things for myself anyway. Is this lack of faith/disbelief in God that I am experiencing? But I know God has a plan for me. You see, it gets very conflicting, for fear that my impatience will ‘spoil’ God’s good plans for me. As 2019 becomes less fast paced and I become older, may I calm my tits down and tarry in the Lord. It means to stay longer than expected and be patient in hope. Because for the record, God’s plans has always been good to me – when I see the big picture now for the uncertainties I felt in the past, everything makes sense. I need to truly believe that God will provide, God is truly the overseer of my life, God’s timing will come.

But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. (Matthew 6:33)

5.       Be thankful to God and always be. If you are thankful, you will always find your way back to Jesus. Take thanksgiving to God more seriously, EVERYDAY. And I thank God that every night before I sleep I always have something to be thankful about up.

6.       Right values and right spirit translates to right actions. I’ve learnt to set boundaries for my value system, not everything is okay, even if my free-spirited soul tells me “aiya yolo” countless times. Spirit wise, I need to talk to God more consistently. The Holy Spirit is something I learnt to engage more in SOT, and I need to remember to communicate with it more (considering how slack I was in the past and it has yet become a habit). I am a reflection of my own routine.

7.       To not find ways to see how close I can go without stepping over the line. Instead, think how far I can be from that line. This was mentioned during one of Pastor Ed’s session, struck a chord in me since then. People like me, free-spirited, come-what-may kind of personality, running away from things I deem as fun (but not exactly morally upright) is hard. I crave excitement and adventure. I need to learn, not everything that makes me happy is beneficial for me. I am responsible for my own freedom. Deliberate habitual sinning makes us okay to cross this line and it’s scary. I forget that it is actually not pleasing to God, I forget that it will hurt me, because I’ve gotten used to it, I’ve gotten immune to it. I do not feel bad anymore. And that itself, is toxic.

8.       Repentance, I need to repent from things in my life. Inward change + outward action = repentance. I feel constantly that I’m doing both half-heartedly. It’s hard to truly 100% repent if I continue this way. Deal with the heart problem.

9.       Life is worth living for the Lord. Quit thinking that life without acknowledging is my Saviour is better. I used to have thoughts that life would be better without being a Christian – I don’t have to feel shitty about having done something bad, I can sleep till super late on a Sunday, look my friends who are unchurched are living alright too… I envy them sometimes. Then I realised I need to be secured in my identity in Christ. I am a child of God, and knowing Jesus should be one of the best decisions of my life. Yes, people who do not know God can lead a good life too. But I should not think that knowing God has compromised my happiness and freedom in life. God gave us free-will and there is freedom in Him. Quitting Jesus will likely mean I am not returning.

You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh ; rather, serve one another humbly in love. (Galatians 5:13)

10.   If we think closely about most of the things in our lives, there must be an exchange. I gave the auntie my 3 dollars in exchange for a plate of chicken rice this afternoon. The handicapped uncle busked in the streets in hope that someone could give him some money in exchange for his time. Jesus died in exchange for the forgiveness of our sins. I cannot keep taking for granted that I will go to heaven if I keep doing things not according to the will of God; I need to exchange something. Is it my lack of discipline, is it a person, is it a hobby? Surrender.

11.   My life should not be a paradox. Make my words precious. From my heart, motives and mind, I need to understand why things cannot be done. Does my verbal profession translate to moral obedience?  My life is the most powerful message for people. No one has seen Jesus but they have seen me. Live my life for Christ. Be mindful of what I speak about, don’t say or do things I don’t mean. Treat people genuinely. I should learn to not just receive God’s love, learn to give God some love too by loving His people. He deserves it. When people say my name, what do they say about?

Don’t fool yourself into thinking that you are a listener when you are anything but, letting the Word go in one ear and out the other. Act on what you hear! Those who hear and don’t act are like those who glance in the mirror, walk away, and two minutes later have no idea who they are, what they look like. But whoever catches a glimpse of the revealed counsel of God—the free life!—even out of the corner of his eye, and sticks with it, is no distracted scatterbrain but a man or woman of action. That person will find delight and affirmation in the action. (James 1:22-25)

12.   I can live at my own level of faith. I always categorise my friends as upz and never felt equivalent to them. You see, I don’t speak or edify people so much, I don’t lead people, I speak whatever comes my mind (#uncensored) and I am not a standard example of a holy person. Then I talked to some people I deemed as upz and I realised we are all human beings with real temptations and fears; whatever I face they face too, just differently but we have inadequencies. Maybe I’m just more vocal about these things, but everyone’s fighting their own battles even if they looked perfect on the exterior. I learnt that God did not create robots, but created us in His image… and we can be comfortable with who we are. I do not need to be whoever for God to love me more, God is happy with who I am, as long as I live my life with integrity, offline and online, real life or secret life. I can just stay rooted in Him based on my own pace. God isn’t impressed by human strength. If I want real and divine strength and power, first I have to be weak by the standards of this world. When I’m weak by the standards by the world, then I can get the grace to become strong in God. I need God.

For I say, through the grace given to me, to everyone who is among you, not to think of  himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think soberly, as God has dealt to each one a measure of faith. (Romans 12:3)

13.   Leadership is not about title, leadership is about influence. Note to self about my life as a teacher or colleague or friend. I want to influence positively, I want to be someone who honours my word, that what I believe in is in sync with how I act out and live out.

14.   God does not waste every experience I face in my life. No one knows the full shit I’ve experienced, the real training that I’ve been through but when the situation calls for it, I can be useful to people around me. Don’t come out of experiences empty-handed, instead bring treasures of darkness.

15.   Read the Bible more, spend time with the Holy Spirit more, pray more. I was forced (ok, at the last feel moments of SOT I was truly forced due to time constraints) to complete the Bible and I realised how much wisdom the Bible has and how little I’ve read it through my years. Contradicting isn’t it? I fail to read the sole thing that was given to me to know God better. As I said earlier, my relationship with God is based on experience – experiencing His love. What if one day I stopped experiencing God’s love during sessions, will I still follow Jesus? The word is indeed important, in times of need I can become a blessing. I beat myself up for the fact that I lost time in my years as a Christian not reading the Bible as much as I should have, but may 2019 be a year where I find time on my own to look deeper into His word and know His word.

Preach the word! Be ready in season and out of season. Convince, rebuke, exhort, with all longsuffering and teaching. (II Timothy 4:2 NKJV)

Pray until inadequacy leaves me. Pray until my prayer is answered. Pray until my burden is lifted. Be close to the Holy Spirit and ensure that when God knocks at my door, I am available and present to answer it. My thought pattern is developed through years and I need to undo this thought pattern by the Holy Spirit, prayers and word of God.

But you, when you pray, go into your room, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in the secret place; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly. (Matthew 6:6)

16.   Make decisions when you are not emotionally unstable. Decisions is rooted in your character. Learn to stop acting on impulse. Learn to say no at times. Align my decisions with the will of God.

17.    Whatever I focus on grows. Become wiser this year about the people, the finances, the health, the things i spend my time on...

Get wisdom—it’s worth more than money; choose insight over income every time. (Proverbs 16:16)

18.   God loves me so much… through SOT, I am certain of the love of God. Now remember this and know that nothing I do or not do can make God love me lesser or more.

19.   I can decide what comes into my heart. Let what is worth it come into your heart.

Keep vigilant watch over your heart; that’s where life starts. (Proverbs 4:23 – 27)

20.   Be secure in myself, no need to strive to prove myself. If I’m good people can see.

21.   If God speaks, will I be willing to listen?

Sooooo, is SOT necessary? To be honest, no. I was so tired at that time, thankful that my dad was able to send me to work straight after SOT at 1 PM. I had no time for myself at all, there was something to do that I cannot cancel everyday. SOT was more of a routine that I learnt to follow, a controlled environment for me to know God more. I had to praise and worship every morning, pray with my peers, read the Bible, complete assignments to graduate. It gave my life some sort of order because everyday I am put in an atmosphere that allows me to meet God. However life after SOT is what really mattered the most. Certainly I got distracted and travelling a lot during my holiday did not help. However, the experiences and revelations in SOT, those are things that cannot be taken away from me... that I just need to regularly be reinforced in my head and heart. My biggest takeaway for me is that nothing will make me leave God and nothing will make God leave me. 

May life after this see me becoming more matured, where I have self-realisation as to what is good and bad for me, having a mature love for God that knows no fear because I’m fully convinced that God loves me sooooo super much. Live life with integrity!

This is by no means a 2019 New Year Resolution post because I don’t want that shit anymore (typing this on 31 Dec simply ‘cuz yo girl kept forgetting to do it since 30 Sep after graduation). I’m sure I am bound to make mistakes and bound to screw up and get lost again in my life time but I just want to live my life to my best. Life never really turn out the way it is planned  – some parts better than you planned, some parts worse than you planned. A general word for 2019 though, Gr. Apokaradokia: To wait with expectation with head raised and eyes fixed over the horizon  –

+ Apo: Means to turn away with concentration. Ignoring other interests.

+ Kara: Means head.

+ Dokia: Means to stretch forward.

Two of my favourite verses throughout my SOT times and have a blessed year ahead.

But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love, And don’t take yourself too seriously— take God seriously. (Micah 6:8 MSG)

God , your God, has blessed you in everything you have done. He has guarded you in your travels through this immense wilderness. For forty years now, God , your God, has been right here with you. You haven’t lacked one thing. (Deuteronomy 2:7 MSG)

[fabermemorialrink]

some mistake, part 3

This part marks the end of what would be chapter one! Still a good handful of sections to upload after this one, but uh I should warn you I probably left off in the middle of writing the most important part, so I hope y’all don’t mind some suspense later on haha. Thanks again for reading!!

So Derek takes Dex’s advice to heart and tries, he really does, and...it kind of works. There are some people in each of his classes that he becomes friendly with, that he can grab a bite with or have study sessions with. And the team has several guys he's pretty close to now. There's Shitty, who’s easy to talk to and shows his support for Derek in his free-spirited, oft-naked way, and Ransom and Holster, who take him under their defensive wing. Ollie and Wicks, Indy and Alph and manager Sierra who treats them all like her out-of-control little brothers.

Derek likes them all but just even being in school drains him every day, over time. There's nothing wrong with any of them, per se, but they're all part of the same system, and it's like a vortex of bleakness that everyone at Andover is caught in. So he goes to class and talks to the tolerable people, and re-learns every single morning how to ignore the intolerable ones, and he goes to practice and bonds with the guys, and when it starts cascading into the always present shadow of pressure and prejudice, he escapes to where he can take a moment, just to be himself without being berated for having the audacity to exist.

He doesn't usually see Dex when he's just meditating in his hidey-hole, his head poking out to rest on the roots and stare up at the treasured glimpses of sky that are revealed to him through the shifting leaves. But he realizes soon enough, shortly before he heads back to the city for Thanksgiving break (because all three of his parents are actually going to be home simultaneously for once) that when he dares to delve deeper, and the woods entangles itself around him slowly and imperceptibly until he's lost in a dark corner again, Dex appears like clockwork to rescue him.

It's an accident at first, just a genuine attempt to try and teach himself more about the outdoors. He read up on camping and shit, and some Thoreau for good measure, but putting what he read into practice doesn't seem hugely successful for Derek. Inevitably, he ends up stranded in the unknown - in the inner ring, as Dex finally tells him one day when they're sitting by a pond Derek's never seen before and eating trail mix he swiped from the dining hall - where his sense of direction fails him.

Dex is nothing if not supremely reliable and strangely, suspiciously, always aware of Derek's whereabouts, so Derek is never left waiting long before Dex storms out to chastise him for endangering himself. Derek still doesn’t get it, because literally nothing seems to live in the goddamn woods except his ginger stalker/self-appointed bodyguard/friend, so he continues to tell Dex to chill and make half-baked promises to not get himself murdered. Dex always does this hilarious hand-clench of frustration when Derek brushes off his concerns, but nevertheless semi-reluctantly puts up with his company until he deems it too dark or too cold for Derek to stay any longer.

Soon it becomes habit to search Dex out whenever Derek's feeling numb. On good days, they get along, talking about the junk they’re interested in. Dex isn’t up to date on the newest shows or movies that Derek likes, but they bond over the nostalgic films of the past, and Derek gives quick and dirty summaries of all the shitty books he’s read on long plane rides. If he exaggerates the inanity of some of the plots, well, it gets a laugh out of Dex, so whatever.

On not-so-good days, at least he has someone he can argue unapologetically with. Sometimes it's important stuff, because Dex is still very much a know-nothing white boy who doesn't understand what Derek goes through on a daily basis. And though Derek still doesn’t actually know much about Dex at all, he does know that Dex thinks he’s too damn rich to understand his hang-ups about buying nice but frivolous things, and dropping more than eight dollars on brunch. So they fight about these things sometimes, but because Derek can’t physically find his way back home without Dex’s assistance, it becomes a forced learning experience for the both of them, to learn to listen to one another without tussling like elementary-schoolers. It works more than it doesn’t, but they’re also both dumbass fifteen year olds who don’t know when to quit, so there are nights that Dex dumps Derek at the field without another word and Derek spends the next day moping in his bed, then moping in his hollow until one of them has enough guts to go and apologize.

And sometimes, their arguments are about whether the pet rock was the best cash grab of all time, or how much money it would have cost to fake the moon landing, or whether it’s a terrible idea for Derek to try a backflip on the ice.

What it comes down to is this: even when they fight, at least Derek feels alive. At least he knows the person he’s talking to cares, about something. They’re not always in sync about how they see the world, but Dex is real in a way the kids at Andover never are, and willing, in his mulish way, to consider Derek’s point of view after a shouting match. And, for all the faces and weird noises he makes, he’s a good listener. Derek practices his public speaking assignment on him and his oral presentation for Spanish; Dex claps in the right places and throws pebbles at him when he’s avoiding eye contact too much. He asks after Derek’s family and his team, and almost always remembers to ask Derek about his games. Derek thinks he probably follows Andover hockey more closely than Shitty’s parents do. Several invitations to their home games have been extended, but Dex always apologizes before turning them down.

Derek doesn’t put it into words until the day Dex sets him to work gathering herbs “for reasons” and they’re sitting in the dirt and fog picking through weeds and chirping each other about their bad hand-eye coordination. Derek has mist in his face and there’s soil caked under his nails from digging up tiny sprouts and silvery roots, but it’s been the best part of his day by far.

“How’d you get dirt on your nose?” Dex asks when Derek delivers another handful of shoots to him.

“Just living that natural life, Dexy.” Derek swipes at his face with the back of his hand, but from the look that crosses Dex’s face he’s not finding much success. He makes another attempt with the heel of his palm this time.

“No, you- there’s even more now,” Dex says irritably. He reaches up, as if to brush the smudge away himself, but aborts the motion halfway and digs him hand harder into the ground instead.

Derek grins, and tries again. “Did I get it?” he asks as he deliberately streaks dirt from the bridge of his nose across his cheek. The corner of Dex’s eye twitches as he fights with himself, until Derek slowly and deliberately digs up a solid handful of muck, ready to plaster it to his own face.

Dex dives for him as he brings his hand up in slow-motion, flattening him to the ground as they battle over Derek’s hand.

“You’re a literal child, I swear to god,” Dex hisses, wrestling Derek's arm in place long enough to smear most of the dirt off.

“Lots of adults enjoy the rejuvenating properties of a mud mask, bro.” Derek pats his cheeks gently with what's left of the soil on his hands, and offers the remainder to Dex. “Give it a try. Refreshed skin will bring out your freckles more.”

“Why would I ever want that.” Dex has to pin Derek’s arm down with his shoulder to protect his face.

“Seriously? People would kill for the Look you got going on, dude.” Dex’s eyes narrow when he hears the capital L, but Derek continues. “You're like a concept painting of autumn. All gold and red and orange.”

“What does that even mean, you weirdo?” Dex groans into the dirt as he rolls away from Derek, ending in a patch of brambly leaves that stick in his shirt.

“It means you’re beautiful inside and out. Own it.”

“Were you put on this earth to torment me?”

“Maybe! Aw, that's cute. Like we were made for each other.”

“What.”

“Well, like, if I exist just to annoy you, and you exist to be my bff, then it's kinda like we were made for each other, right?”

“Wait- are we even having the same conversation right now?” Dex asks, confused. He bounces up like a pop-up book insert to give Derek his classic squint of suspicion. “Who's what now?”

“You’re my best friend, Dex, is what I’m saying,” Derek tells him, smiling at him sideways from where he's still tipped over into the mud. This is what it should feel like, right? This comfortable, unfiltered ease that Derek has grown used to in Dex’s presence. No pretenses, no fear of letting his chill slip or his anger surge. Derek is Derek, and Dex, even with all his secrets, is Dex, and that's all they need.

“Oh. That’s not where I thought this was going. Are you sure?” Dex asks, scratching awkwardly at his hair tucked under his cap. He cut it recently, choppy and slightly uneven; Derek suspects he may have done it by hand himself. Hopefully not with the hatchet. He seems to be in disbelief, so Derek solves the problem the only way he knows how: by being extra annoying.

“No, actually, now that I think about it more, I don't know if I can be friends with someone who’s afraid of barbershop quartets.”

“Oh my god, I'm not afraid of them, I just think the striped vests are fuckin’ weird! And the hats, too, Jesus. It's creepy, okay?”

“You are legit the strangest dude I know. You scared of 90s boy bands too? Leather pants, frosted tips?”

Dex undergoes a deep, full body shudder of disgust, visibly trying to shake the memory off himself. “Quit it, Nursey-”

“Matching track suits! Bandanas and denim overalls!”

“I don't understand how the hell we’re still friends,” and Derek’s smile must be embarrassingly real, because Dex flushes that nice shade of red he gets when he's flustered but not angry, and half-heartedly gives Derek a “yeah, okay, me too,” which, in the current flow of the conversation is a non-sequitur, but Derek gets it.

When it draws close to six, Dex packs up his basket and walks Derek back out, even though Derek has got a pretty good handle on navigating the outer ring by now, where the forest isn't yet labyrinthine and dim. Like always, he halts at the edge, but this time, he stops Derek with a hand to his arm, his skin warm despite the biting coldness in the air.

Dex is about to say something, but Derek word vomits on him before he can speak up. “You wanna come visit my dorm? We could watch Netflix, eat stale pop tarts.” It's such a fantastic proposition that Derek is surprised Dex doesn't immediately begin heckling him.

“Sorry, but I, uh, also gotta get home. Besides, you know they'd never let me into your prep school dorm room. Blue collar cooties,” he says with the sort of uncasual shrug that says he's accepted long ago there are places he isn't meant to go.

“I can't believe you just used the word cooties in a sentence,” Derek says, trying to lighten the mood, because even he's more than willing to sneak Dex in, doesn't mean his friend wants to go. He probably wants to keep their lives compartmentalized. They can share the woods; everything else is off-limits. That's okay. Derek can handle that.

“Some of us have to make do with our dollar store vocabulary.”

“I didn't say I didn't like it. You have the best cooties,” Derek says solemnly and clasps Dex’s shoulder.

Dex shakes him off, but cracks a smile, so it's a solid win. “Shut your face, Nursey. You know I wouldn't fit in with those guys. You'll just have to bring your pop tarts here. Not the laptop though; electronics don't work right in the woods.”

Derek swallows thickly, suddenly overcome with this invitation. It's new. Dex almost always sees Derek off with a demand that he watch his back and stay in school, like some kind of twisted after-school special. He never makes any indication that he actually wants Derek to visit, though Derek’s learned enough of his tacit signs by now to know that Dex doesn't mind his company. “Yeah? What flavor?” he asks when he unties his tongue.

“Wild berry. Extra stale.”

“I'll open a pack and leave it in my math binder for a week.”

Dex must remember that Derek avoids even touching his math materials if he can, because he laughs, and gives Derek a little shove closer to the field. “I'm counting on it. Hey, we need to make some ground rules though.”

“Rules? Like the name prohibition.”

The first couple of times they ran into each other again Dex had reiterated the ironclad importance of Derek never, ever uttering his name while in the woods. Dex nods now, relieved that Derek’s been bludgeoned with that information until it stuck.

“Right. Never tell anyone your name; that’s the most important one. Rule number two: don't trust anyone you meet in the woods. Got it?”

“Uh, what's that supposed to mean? Didn’t I meet you in the woods?”

Dex makes a complicated face and a jerky, ambivalent motion with his hand that Derek does not understand at all. “There's just some strange people in here sometimes,” he says, still hedging around something. “Be wary around them. If they ever try to make you break rule number one, get the fuck outta there. Even if it’s me, okay?”

What? Why would Dex ever…”Okay? If you say so?” What’s Dex afraid of? Brainwashing? Doppelgangers? Clones??

“Promise me, Nursey,” Dex says intensely, gripping Derek’s elbow tight. “I might not always be around to watch out for you.”

Derek must look too hesitant still, because Dex pinches his arm and he lets out a yelp. “Alright, chill, Dex. I promise.” Then, narrowing his eyes, he ventures to ask, “Is this a cult thing? ‘Cause my parents know people. We can help.”

“It's not a cult thing. And if it were, it’s not like I’d admit it.”

“Hmmmm.” Derek looks around, giving the woods a leery once-over, before leaning in to hiss, “Blink twice if they’re watching us. Blink three times if they’re holding you against your will.”

Dex stares at him for a few seconds before blinking deliberately twice (!), then a few more times for a total of five. Derek’s brain flies into overdrive as he tries to decipher this. Is it five as in two plus three? Is he giving Derek a signal? Or is he just messing around?

While he dithers over this, Dex purses his lips and blows a sharp stream of air right into Derek’s eyes. He recoils, clutching at his face.

“Ow, what the fuck, Dex!”

“That’s enough cultist bs for one day. Time to go home, Nursey. Walk slowly; wouldn’t want you to trip on literally nothing again and ruin your pretty face, city boy.”

“Ha ha,” Derek grouses, still rubbing his eyes. He’s well aware of his bad skin and awkward legs. Dex doesn’t need to rub it in. “D’you practice those lines on the squirrels before you try them on people?”

“Don’t be dumb. You ever seen a squirrel around here?” Dex snipes back, but the corners of his eyes crease in a smile and he mutters, “I practice on the trees.”

Derek is still laughing as Dex shoves him out onto the field toward home.