#hes meant to be confusing and contradicting on purpose he is a mess

[rottenstrawberrymilk]

Just finished "hatchet" (I leave you 10000 Kudos and cannot wait for your next work) - but I got a lil question (SPOLIERS FOR CH. 5 and 8)

Y/N surprised kissed Toby while they were in emotional distress and crying then, later in the story when Y/N was in emotional distress and crying Toby surprised kissed them

Did Toby think it was an appropriate time because that's what Y/N did? Or did he just seize the moment?

thank you, i want to do eyeless jack next c:

toby is a nut. he is also under -socialized and (in the beginning of the story) not good at reading body language and social cues

Probably a mix of the two. Wanting to reciprocate + return back to the feeling of being kissed in a moment where the relationship is most strained and hurting and confusing to him. like his way of trying to turn back time to when it was better (his unhealthy, immature definition of "better")

He wasnt entirely lucid starting near the end of ch 5 and lasting until ch 12 . with the way i ended this story, i do not believe he would be completely lucid again for a long time after suffering the seizure. even when he has clarity he's still not right because toby is just beyond gone to begin with. i was attempting to hint at that with a lot of his internal monologues.

for future reference, in my telling and characterization of toby rogers-- he is not a good guy and the final chapters are not meant to redeem him. none of his actions are redeemable by any means haha. the tags on the work are all there for a reason (INCLUDING unreliable narrator)

[rederiswrites]

I'm slowly piecing together the fragments of Erik's mind--the childish ignorance contrasted against the hypercompetence of a leader and killer trained by vicious necessity. The clumsy desperation to be good struggling against a deep sickness he doesn't understand.

Here is an early fragment of the high-stakes struggle to make something coherent out of his soup brain:

___

He was afraid to care for things. He was desperate to care for things. Some days, the contradictions felt like they were tearing him apart. 

The squirrel haunted him. He had felt nothing but admiration for that little creature, so sweet and lithe, and then he had destroyed it. He hadn’t wanted to. Hadn’t meant to. Had no recollection of deciding to, no moment when he could have decided not to.

He was afraid of the things he knew, and the things he didn’t know. He couldn’t remember who he was, but it was hard to convince himself that he’d been a good person, when he knew clearly how to dismember a corpse, which targets would lead to a clean kill and which would leave the victim suffering for days in sepsis. 

What he didn’t know was how to resolve an argument without blood. How to hold a conversation without giving offense. How to make his own food or do his own laundry. It had been a tenday of blithely assuming the problem would resolve itself before Shadowheart informed him that he stank and he would wash his clothing now, immediately. It had taken Wyll watching him walk into the river fully clothed to realize that he didn’t know how.

He knew how to give orders in battle. How to disappear into shadows. But he had to be gently shown how to clean his own underpants, as ignorant as a babe.

He didn’t know the whole, but the parts that cropped up were never good. It wasn’t good when you unthinkingly announced that your favorite meat was dwarf. It was bad–very bad. And it was bad that he’d recognized the smell of spit-roasted dwarf as soon as they’d entered the goblin camp, and it had smelled so good.

But still–there was the little voice that told him it was bad. He knew these things were bad. Something in him was good, surely, or where did the voice come from? He clung to that with frightening desperation. It was a quiet whisper, whereas the Urge was a hand around his throat, a clap of thunder. But it was there.

He had begun to say it out loud, to amplify that little voice. Sometimes he had to whisper–the others already thought he was crazy. They were right, of course, but it served no purpose to amplify their belief. Sometimes the voice sounded like Gale, sometimes like Wyll, sometimes it was broken and confused and purely Erik, only his weak little voice. His conscience, Wyll said. If so, his conscience was very poorly trained. Sometimes, the whisper was nothing more than “Don’t kill. Don’t kill. Leave now.”

But tonight the whisper came too late. It was a wail, a dirge. 

“I didn’t mean to! I don’t understand! I didn’t–I didn’t want to.”

The others were gathering around him in the dark. He could feel them there, but all he saw was the bard’s broken, mutilated body. Her pink hair clotted black with blood. He’d gathered her up, cringing at the way her arm flopped, ripped out of joint. He held it in place, cradled it against her chest, and almost she could have been sleeping. If you didn’t look at her eyes. He rocked her in his arms, keening.

“She was so good! She was beautiful! She was kind.” He sobbed, aware that his face was a mess of blood, snot, tears…a child crying over a slain pet. Only he was the child and the wolf both.

“I didn’t want to. I don’t understand.”

___________

It was after Alfira that they had Dammon make the shackles. It was Erik’s idea, but only Karlach really objected. He knew the others secretly wanted them. He wanted them for the same reason–so that they could sleep at night, with a monster at their fire.

Dammon looked askance, but he made them without asking questions. Erik supposed that time spent in the Hells would teach you to leash your curiosity. He supposed that Dammon understood well that there were some things it was better not to know. 

The left shackle interfered with the bow string, but the right he wore at all times. He let it chafe. Let it be a physical restraint on the Urge, a constant reminder that he must control himself. The shackle was his conscience, the physical embodiment of that little voice.

The right shackle was his own self-restraint, thin and poorly trained. The left was the acknowledgment that sometimes that wasn’t enough. That he didn’t know if it could be enough.

[bloodycassian]

Rhys x reader - reader is a winter court runaway who the bat boys find almost freezing to death. longer! - I'm also interested in writing for the crescent city universe if that's something you guys would like. absolutely no Ruhn x Bryce though. It made me uncomfy reading it!! what did yall think about the weird (IMO) tension between Ruhn and Bryce?

Cold seeping into your bones, the dark figures looming above didnt comfort you into the sweet embrace of sleep that you wanted. Sleep or otherwise would be welcome at this point. You could no longer feel your body, besides the painful shuddering your core would occasionally give.  "No-" You heard a deep voice snarl. Then there was ripping, and rustling among the dead leaves on the ground. The sickly sweet smell of their decay made you grimace further.  "We have no time Rhys. We need to go now." A gravelly voice said calmly.  "I cant-" There was gasping and suddenly you were being lifted, warmth caressing under your knees and around your back. You sighed into the relief the welcome heat brought.  Rhysand's legs quivered as he watched his brother pick you up. His eyes brimmed with shock and tears. His mate. How could the cauldron be so brutal? To make a Winter Court noble his mate. To make such a politically powerful family's heiress his. His partner. His everything. A threat to Kallis' throne was his person. His tether that now speared him to the spot Cassian held him in. His heart yearned, wide and open and firey with rage. He had no doubt Kallis himself had a part in this. Azriel's shadows were warm against your skin.It contradicted every rumor you'd ever heard about the spymaster killing in a cold beautiful way. Your lips chattered as you tried to form words. "Who-" You attempted, but were shushed by the male carrying you.  The last thing you remembered before passing out was the bite of wind and a sound of branches breaking under someone's heavy footfall.  + Rhysand wallowed. He didnt care if he looked like a simpering love sick teenager.. But his brothers were concerned. He hadn't eaten or seen you since he had felt that bond snap into place. His chest constricted at the very thought of you. He flew, in the dead of night. Once he had made sure you were alive and stable he just left, flying and flying without a purpose or a place in mind. He didnt doubt that Azriel knew about it.  The one time he landed, on a high peak overlooking the cool city of Winter Court...he did not get up again. He let the cold winds beat him, until he could no longer feel his toes, his feet. He sat until the overcast skies began darkening. Contemplating if he could kill Kallis himself or wait for you to decide what to do with him. His teeth yearned to tear out his throat himself.  Kallis was the only foreseeable reason Rhys could think of that would have explained why his mate had almost died at the hands of this merciless barren land. There was no way the noble family had just let you run off and... Rhysand shuddered - the thought of the family even being alive hitting home. Azriel hadn't found anything but a bloody trail that night.  His heart raced. A sudden feeling of anxiety loomed over him. He shot into the sky as fast as his stiff body and cold wings let him. Your hand was still wrapped in bandages, and you were sure your hair was a mess as the two wraiths doted on you. They had said nothing, even when you had pleaded with them. They had merely stopped and gotten the healer. She was insisting on using her magic on your neck and head when darkness shaded the room, and there were hurried footsteps up the stairs. The healer shook her head and opened the door, where night and shadows itself stood, staring at you with wide violet eyes filled with stars. Your heart hummed in your chest, and your head spun at his beauty. You knew him without ever meeting him, like a switch you were suddenly - secure. More at home than you'd ever felt in your cold homeland. The breath was stolen from you. His lips parted and he stepped into the room, "May I stay?" He asked, voice raw and charming.  The healer scoffed, returning to your side, placing her hands on your blanketed legs. You nodded at him. "Only if you tell me what is going on." he nodded back, glancing suspiciously towards the healer. "Where is Madja? I sent for her yesterday." He seemed irritated, his jaw clenching. "Madja is still working on your brother after what you did to him." She said in a clipped tone. Rhys' face went a shade red at that. Regret bloomed in his stomach. He sighed, sitting on the floor at the end of the bed burying his head in his hands, exhausted. Your head spun. "There are no stories of you having a brother." You said. His figure moved with a slight chuckle. "Brother in a metaphorical sense. Though they may as well be." He let out a long breath, unhiding his face and pulling a hand through his hair.  "He tried getting me to see reason while I was being...well.. unreasonable."  There was a small tug on your chest towards him, as if he was calling you to be on the floor with him. You wanted to. You wanted to tell him that you wanted to join him too. But you were bound to the bed by exhaustion and the bandages covering you. The healer placed her hand on your knee, a coolness thrumming down your leg into your foot. She tisked in disapproval. "Now you being unreasonable has this one refusing to let me heal her head. Do something about this your highness, I dont believe theres anything wrong but we must be abso-" Rhysand cut her off by holding a single finger up.  She scoffed and left the room, closing the door a bit too hard for normal. You smiled slightly at that, glad to be rid of a healer even for a few minutes.  He blew out a  long breath, avoiding eye contact with you. "What do you remember?" He asked you, eyebrows knitting together. He stared at his feet, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle.  You knew what he meant. You cringed away from the few memories. "It was cold.." You started, shying away from the tingling in your foot at the memory. "Why wont you let the healer try to help?" He asked, not judgemental but more curious than anything. He got up with a tired grunt, and pulled a leather armchair beside you.  Your heart raced at the closeness he presented. You didnt want to imagine what you looked like. Even with Fae healing you knew the tips of your ears may have still been blue from the cold of the wilderness of winter court. "I dont need it. I dont... want the help. I dont see a point to it." You tried your best at a shrug, your arms protesting.  "Your family..." He began. Your heart fluttered, cheeks heating. A headache bloomed in your temples as your brain grasped for memories of the night. Rhysand waited patiently, studying your face. They had screamed and threatened to cut you out of the family dynasty if you refused the marriage. Broken glass and running. No shoes, pain in your lungs from the cold air.  "My sorry excuse for a family left me to die." You growled once you felt steady enough to say.  Head pounding, you took a drink of water from the night stand. "I was meant to marry Kallis' oldest, but when I refused they took issue with it."   "And they tried to kill you.. so you ran?" He asked, his voice strained.  "Not exactly... I cant...." You rubbed your aching head. It felt like you were sick, like you needed a cold bath. Your stomach roiled with the pain.  Concern took over Rhys' features. "I can help." He offered, his hands fisting in the blankets, like he wished he could rip the pain away from you.  "Do whatever" You groaned, sinking back into the pillows. "I dont care anymore." You wanted so badly to just let your body give out in those woods. Let some snow bear find you and be a snack for its cubs. You had no family, no home.. and no status any longer. Your mind seemed to be coated in a dark blanket, relief flowed through you. For the first time his eyes were locked with yours when you looked up. The magnificent depth of them was astounding. His dark brows pulled together, studying your features. There was that tug towards him again. You picked up that thread and tugged back, lazily.  He blinked, taking a sharp breath. Confusion rolled through you, then his voice ripped through your mind like an echo. "I've been waiting for you."

[starshipsofstarlord]

I feel, and it sucks

Pairings | Damon Salvatore x reader. Eric Northman x reader

Summary | after moving away from Mystic Falls, you finally return, and Damon is prepared to see you again. The only problem is, that you aren’t alone...

Warnings | includes angst, mentions of a breakup, sorta lead up to smut and mentions of it, blood play/kink, tiny bit of violence

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

He cared not for the lack of logic that ran through his mind. Not as he went towards your home, you had returned from your year long departure. Mystic Falls had been left in your rear view as you went to a place called Bon Temps.

As much as Damon wished to chase after you, he’d have crawled if he could, he respected your desire to leave everything behind, and move on. And that included him, the man that you had loved, and the one that was profusely enamoured in you.

But now, he had the opportunity to whisk you back into his immortal embrace, and forever be by your side, to protect you, and spend every waking moment with you. Stefan would call him sappy for his advances, but his brother’s opinion simply did not matter. He was so close to being happy again, and he couldn’t deny he was reeled in by the prospect.

Damon was eager to make you pancakes every morning, waking you up with the aroma of breakfast on a tray that he greeted you with in bed. Or even the simple excitement of watching your various expressions whilst reading twilight; ugh, he hated that book, but he would willingly endure its presence if that meant he could become wrapped up in you once more.

But he had to see you first, and get past that progression again. Whilst you had been gone, and in that other town, he had become lost. No amount of bourbon drinking, or hanging out with Ric, could fix his settled mood. He felt like a sinking stone, drowning in the deep end, and remaining on the bottom of the bed, until he was washed away, back to shore.

And your return had done just that; grounded him. He wouldn’t feign to admit his immediate reaction when he first found out you were to come back to your original home. First, he had been in utter disbelief, hardly taking Bonnie’s statement seriously when she informed him of the ordeal.

But then, she showed him the messages that had transacted between the pair of you, and how you were eager to see her again. Nothing of him was mentioned in the conversation, although he was sure that the witch and you had spoken over call sometime after your surprise reveal.

The lack of voicing of your prior breakup gave him some hope; you were willing to take him back. And that was a possibility that he safely held onto, finding it to be a net for him to fall down onto. However, the prospect of a net was like that of a rocking boat, it had an inability stay still when it held a weight, and that mass of pounds was him.

And he knew, as you left, the thought of you had attempted to pull you back, and force you to stay with the selfish power. But as the past had played out, you had not let it, and so you left him all alone, in the claws of the Grill, which was somewhere he found himself to be often in general, but more so after your transcending departure.

The curtains to your room swayed with the evening wind, and he found himself to be enticed by the sight of the open window. It hadn’t been an unusual occurrence for him to climb through the ajar square, and talk about your day, and thus, make it better by his simple appearance.

But, he was deceived. What a fool he had been to think that you had not moved on from little old him, for there was a tall legged man over the top of you, both of your chests bare, and your mouth viscously devouring the inclination of the others. You were oblivious to his accidentally snooping presence, too distracted by the estranged blonde that was now teasing his lips down your throat.

The sight had him freeze, but he was incapable of interrupting whence he watched the man’s teeth sink into the parting of the bottom of your neck and your warm shoulder. It was no man, instead, he was much like him; a vampire. There was a ample difference though, he would never hurt you.

To Damon, you were a treasure, not an edible treat. And it sparked a pulse of fear through his entirety as he watched you be drained by this vile creature. Perhaps he were a hypocrite, he had done the same to many people countless times, and still continued to do so. But the food was not being extracted by anyone, it was being pulled from your veins, and making its way into this stranger’s awaiting mouth.

You shut up as something, a familiar blur, came crashing against Eric, sending his form flying off from your own, the intruder and him ending up on the floor. To cover up and show some surprised decency, you pulled the sheet upon yourself, stretching your red printed neck to view the scene below.

Eric was recomposing himself, shooting immortal daggers towards the reckless, who was... “Damon?” Seeing him once more was inevitable, but the scene of it was a dread of yours. And here he was, in your bedroom, the circumstances with much difference than from what they used to be.

At the sound of his name, both the strapping vampires turned towards you with fixed frowns, both worn for their own reasonable purposes. Damon was studying you, and understanding the scene, now seeing that you had been open to the removal of your blood, and this stranger was with you in some kind of way that he was not a fan of.

And Eric’s, well, it was a combined factor of fury, that was directed at the raven haired and uninvited visitor, and confusion, as he attempted to put together pieces of the puzzle that he was missing. He presumed correctly that the two of you had previously known each other, and thus, his intrusion could be explained, or so he hoped.

There was a longing wrenching in his dead gut, that there was something more than a friendship between you and this Damon. He was far too well adversed with the tell of history, that the looks the pair of you were silently exchanging were anything but friendly.

From the get go, there was a smouldering charm that reflected out of Damon’s blue eyes, and your own showed a conflict of interests. But nevertheless, you straightened your back up against the headboard of the bed, and questioned him. “What are you doing here?”

The interrogative underlining to your voice stung like a bee, but the younger of the two vampires refrained from wincing. That would only show a weakness towards the new vamp in town, and that was not the aim of his game.

“Bonnie told me that you were back.” He thought it would be a simple and trouble free resolution, however, the other immortal presence in the room now told him otherwise. “And I thought this guy here was going to drain you dry? What’d you expect me to do, let some stranger kill you before I even have a chance to see you?!”

A prominent eye roll swayed from your foresight, and you cast a look to the other guy, as though you were talking silently with the newcomer. “He’s not a stranger, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Eric Northman.” He extended his hand frankly to your previous partner, attempting to draw a hateful truce between them. But instead, Damon whence he took the offer, attempted to squeeze the bejesus out of ‘Eric’s’ hand, which only ended in the result of his own bones being crushed.

That much informed him that this Northman was older, and that information alone served as a factual repercussion of him in turn being more powerful. This vampire wasn’t one to mess with, but who knew what he would do, after all, he was Damon Salvatore.

“Damon Salvatore.” He begrudgingly spoke through his clenched teeth, taking his broken and healing back into the safety of his side. “So, the boyfriend. Y/n, I thought you were done with relationships, more specifically, with vampires.”

“You sound like Caroline, bitching about my relationship choices. And the only sense that she spoke to me was to get out of this town and-“

“Shag another one of me.” He quirked his brow, and Eric breathed heavily. One thing he had picked up on, was that he didn’t like the way that this vampire was speaking to you. He was making digs, and making contradictions to all of your past statements. “I believe you even said that I would be the last one, and that isn’t in the same context. You wanted to spend forever with me y/n, not someone like this.”

“Listen here.” Eric hissed, prowling half naked towards Damon, his fangs slipping out from beneath his top lip. “I can see what’s happening here, you want her back. But it appears that she has moved on, so that is something that you’re going to have to suck up.”

“Suck up.” Damon childishly snorted, finding the pun hilarious in his state of mixed delirium. He felt everything, a sense of urgency to win you back, and great pain that was sinking into his age old skeleton. “I feel, and it sucks. But it’s fine, completely fine.” He waved his hand off, staring past the slim brute and finding a painful solace in staring at you. “No, he’s allowed to suck your blood, and what, you suck his dick in return?”

A shove sent him flying into the furthest wall, Eric holding him against it. “She’s mine.” It was a common description of a companionship between human and vampire. He had thought Sookie and Bill’s bond had been a foolish one, however, he met you, and his whole perception changed.

There was something about the collaboration of weakness and strength that worked so perfectly together. It was a true love, in rare occurrences . But the sheriff could feel that the myth was blooming in his own consideration. And he would not allow a young (in comparison to him), selfish specimen of his kind, ruin his chance at keeping that peace.

“She’ll never let you turn her.” Damon gulped, trying to look over the giant’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of you, whom was avidly watching the scene. “If you want forever with her, it will only last a minute, and it’ll kill you when she goes, because if you really love her, then I know it would to me too. She deserves to see the world in all her short life, to be treated like a queen, because she is one.”

Damon gulped, feeling guilty, knowing that as much as he wanted to give you that all, he couldn’t. He would not leave Mystic Falls, and that was what had ended your run in the end. His first priority, as admirable as that was, was to always shadow Stefan, and look out for his little brother.

But that gave him no life, which was exactly what you wanted with him. It didn’t matter if you were to one day become pruned and shrunken, the moment that you lived in was all you wanted. There were memorable tears held in your eyes, but you refused to allow a single one slip.

“Y/n has already agreed that one day, she will go through the change, for me.” Biting your lip, you could only imagine the dispersed appearance that struck Damon’s face. He had wanted forever with you, and instead, you had given it to someone else.

Slinking out from the shirtless man’s grip, Damon cautiously pushed Eric’s hands off him, walking to the window, and casting you a cold look. “I hope you enjoy forever y/n.”

And with that, he was gone in the night, presumably fleeing to annoy Matt until he drank half the bar. And thus, he was the one this time that departed instead, abandoning you, and leaving you in Eric’s claim.

[mxpseudonym]

Just The Guy From The Club

Alt title: Peaky Blinders but you’re buzzed and making out in the bathroom of a party

Pairing: Tommy x OC (or she/her pronouns Reader)

Summary: Tommy’s supposed to be a posh, untouchable GQ cover man, and yet he’s exhibiting real slut (affectionate) behavior in the bathroom of a club with a stranger

Length: 1160 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Handjobs, Public-ish Indecency, Hook up with a stranger

A/N: Have you ever wanted to make out with Tommy Shelby in a bathroom at House of Yes? Then this is for you. 

--

He was there to find Arthur. He was there to pinpoint his eldest brother, who could be seen stumbling, high on whatever party drug he was hooked on, between hole in the wall clubs on Thursday nights. 

So why, how did he end up in the employees-only bathroom with this woman? 

It was sometime after she had him buy tequila shots at the bar, he knew because he could taste the salt and lime on her tongue as he pressed her against the sink. 

The air was buzzing from the brain-rattling house music thumping outside of the door. It was numbing and loud, but not enough to drown out their panting. His thumbs caressed the material of her high-waisted fishnet shorts that laid under her denim shorts. The soft pink hair was cut bluntly at her soft jawline and brushed against Tommy's own sharp cheekbones. He couldn't help but leave one hand on her waist and let the other one come up to slide into the nape of her neck. Tommy pulled back for a moment, panting and looking down at her with a look of realization, confusion, but ultimately humor. It was a wig. Obviously.

"Who are you?" Tommy asked with a huff of laughter. She looked up at him with dilated pupils and a wicked smirk. 

The black lights strained their eyes, showing off the graffiti on the wall, her glowstick jewelry, and the bold lines she'd made on her eyes with a neon eyeliner. Even with the shadows, the dim lights caught her face just enough for Tommy to read her lips, filling in the words he couldn't hear.

"Just the girl from the club."

It should have been enough to put him off like. Enough for a bachelor like him who had frequented magazine covers and had Instagram accounts dedicated to candids of him since he was notorious for turning down selfies, to come to get his wits about him. But the smokey club floor they'd met on, the loudness, the lighting, it was making him forget to put his guard up. He let her make him dizzy instead.

He picked her up by the backs of her thighs and turned them, placing her on the sink. Tommy's hands found the band of her fishnets and explored the skin of her waist.  He was getting handsy. He was getting a thrill. If Polly found out about this or his brothers, Ada even, 

"Ah!" 

Sharp teeth over his pulse point just under his ear brought him back to reality. His reaction made her laugh, and he took a moment to take in how cute her smile was when her nose wrinkled like that. But only for a moment. There was no time to think about what she might have been like outside of this. He pressed closer and cupped her face.

Their kisses were clumsy, teeth knocking into each other, not minding the casualties while their hands slid under clothes to grab sloppy handfuls of flesh. Tommy's hands cupped her through her bra. It was blue and strappy and glowed through the thin white crop top with a vintage logo he didn't know on the front. He wondered if she dressed like this all the time or if this was a special occasion. She was kissed him like she meant it- like she knew what she was doing. But there was something that still made him wonder...

It was her turn to hiss at the newfound cut on her bottom lip. Tommy leaned down and ran his tongue over the tiny bead of blood before giving a languid kiss. The taste of copper shared between evoked a moan from her. Her fingers laced into his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

"You taste good. But you don't usually do this sort of thing," Tommy said.

She hummed against his mouth and stopped any further comments when she moved her hands from his own plain white t-shirt that she'd slid under all too easily to found him semi-hard through his dark jeans. Any upper hand he thought he’d get with his last comment was nonexistent. How she managed to find the tip of him and press the rough material against it in a way that quickly had him hardening was beyond him. His eyes closed as he panted and pushed into her hand. 

"Slut."

His eyes shot open, and he found her smirk once again. Anything he could say would contradict that he'd just bucked into her hand. 

"Wha-"

She kissed him again, using the moment to unbutton his jeans and slid over his briefs. She kissed his cheek when she parted and made her way up to his jaw until her breath was hot in his ear. 

"You taste good too. Like you've never done this, but you've thought about whoring about just like this plenty of times."

Her tongue traced his ear lobe before she caught it between her teeth and made Tommy swear. He'd once had control, hadn't he? Didn't he, at some point, dominate her? No. From when she had him buy her a shot at the bar to dragging him to the second-floor staff lounge, to swirling her thumb over his very sensitive cock, she'd always been in control. 

"You're making a mess, good boy," she teased, feeling the dampness forming on the cloth. 

"Christ,"

"You're gonna cum right here, just from this. Tsk, tsk, such a slut."

His subdued senses made her crass words echo through him and rattle him. Her legs were still around his waist, a hand was fisted in his hair, keeping his lips pressed against hers, and he felt her everywhere at once, consuming him. 

"Fuck," Tommy grunted as his hips bucked and he spilled onto her hand. Tommy leaned his forehead against her shoulder while closing his eyes to keep them from crossing.

Banging at the door kept him from gathering himself entirely. The woman slid against him when hopping from her ledge.

"Just a minute!" She yelled. She turned to him and, again, laughed at his expression. The perplexed look he had from his post-orgasm clarity. 

"I didn't, or you didn't," He stammered while fixing his jeans. Meanwhile, she was using the sink for its intended purpose, washing the evidence of him down the drain. 

Another bang on the door cut off his statement that she must have been unsatisfied and was met with an aggravated shout that they were, in fact, on their way out. The woman wiped wet hands onto her jeans then turned to him, grasping the front of his shirt and pulling him down to her level for a kiss. 

"I know I didn't. You owe me, Tommy Shelby."

She gave him a wink and unlocked the door. The heavy bass and electronic thumping flooded past the temporary barrier as Tommy watched his mystery woman pass an annoyed bouncer with ease, leaving him to solve the problem and ask himself several questions. 

Had he just...? Yes, he really had. But more importantly:

Did he know her?

[natsumiheart]

I look at a lot of stuff on Pinterest and one of people's reasons on why Oumasai is toxic is because Kokichi made Shuichi want to kill himself? Something tells me this is wrong but I'm not sure what proves it wrong. (I mean they also point out that Kokichi mocks Shuichi for mourning Kaede-) I'm asking about this because its been eating at me and trying to prove that it isn't toxic.

Hooo boy this is gonna be long so buckle up! I’m sorry I couldn’t make this shorter I just really go all ace attorney mode when it comes to this type of stuff.

Sorry if there are any mistakes or some parts are too confusing my internet might go soon so I can’t proofread and edit anymore!

I think what they’re referring to is how Shuichi got really depressed after discovering that the world had ended, but how can it be Kokichi’s fault? He literally wasn’t the mastermind, he didn’t make all that stuff up. Heck, he was the first one to even see that motive and on his own it was way worse to deal with. His behaviour was so out of line that Kaito got fed up with him and punched him for the nonsense he was saying.

The motive was supposed to make everyone fall to despair, it’s purpose was legit what happened to Miu where she NEEDED to go out to help out the world before everyone was gone. The motive was MEANT to be seen to make the game “More interesting” but Kokichi didn’t let the others see it until he finally convinced them that he’s the mastermind. If he didn’t the Mastermind would find a way to show it to them in a different way and there’s no knowing what could happen, and if he showed it to them himself they’re bound to believe what he’s saying considering the fact it’s obvious he already knew about this. He took that motive to basically make everyone give up on trying escape by killing each other, since as the mastermind he said “The game’s over now! There’s no point.” to prevent another murder from happening. AND IT WORKED, for a long while no murder took place but of course the actual mastermind couldn’t just sit idly and let the game be “boring” (Which was Kokichi’s goal) So they made a flashback light that Maki ended up seeing and calling the others to see, and the flashback light made everyone including Maki believe that Kokichi was a remnant of despair. They wanted to get rid of Kokichi for messing with the game and taking over their position, and this was their way to do it.

So, after all that, if others see that KOKICHI was the reason Shuichi wanted to give up for a second there. Then I really don’t know what to say. Shuichi has went through so much already because of the killing game and Kokichi’s attempt to stop the killing game is not the reason he wanted to give up. It was because he lost a lot his friends and because the world was most probably all gone. At that point he had nowhere to go back to and everything he has worked so hard for was for nothing because there’s nothing left. Kokichi didn’t do anything to Shuichi for him to be the sole reason he suddenly wanted to die. His depression got the best of him after being all alone with his thoughts for a couple of days, not eating or moving just sleeping the entire time. If anyone is at fault it’s the mastermind for making up such a cruel lie that even made Gonta commit murder to “save” the others.

And for the mocking him about Kaede’s death part (Which is literally one line after Shuichi removed his hat) Kokichi at that point had witnessed that the killing game was real and it was going to get him eventually. He wasn’t alright either and he had already started to make everyone hate him, acting more hostile and annoying so they all stay away (since anyone who groups up everyone or brings them hope will end up like Kaede did) He didn’t want to be the next Kaede or Rantaro. It started with that line but in the end he cut off all ties he had (if he had any) in chapter 4 so that they have no doubt that he is only full of malice and that he is indeed the mastermind.

“But how do you know that he has been devising that plan since back then?” Remember the “horse a” message? the first letters were added to it right before the next morning after the first trial where Shuichi entered the dining room without his hat. If you don’t believe me, here’s a paragraph from well written wiki!

Sometime between the end of the first trial and the morning of the next day, Kokichi would begin to devise of a plan to get everyone to think that he was the mastermind of this killing game, willing to be seen as evil for the sake of ending this madness. To begin this plan, he would leave a subtle message in the courtyard "Horse A", which he would later fill in with more letters as the killing game continued.

And here’s the source if you wanna check for yourself: Click here!

If it wasn’t already obvious, Kokichi is a LIAR. And his biggest lie of being the mastermind started after he saw the deaths of Rantaro and Kaede. That first chapter affected Kokichi a lot, he lied and lied to hide it but he was shaken up by the sudden death of Rantaro and was devastated by Kaede’s death. Though all he could say at her last moments is that she wasn’t boring. Because he knew, if he was truthful? Eyes would be on him immediately and he would be in danger.

Kokichi did his best to be the person he would hate the most, he lies so much yet says he hates liars, then says that’s a lie. Making everyone confused as to what the hell is right or wrong in what he’s saying. But he couldn’t keep up his facade forever especially when he was starting to get interested and even attached to Shuichi. In one completely optional scene in chapter 3 he legit says that he doesn’t want Rantaro to be the one who gets resurrected (Though he probably was more interested in him because he obviously knew more than he let on in chapter 1. Asking everyone about the Ultimate Hunt when no one else remembered it until they say the flashback lights, his fight with Hoshi, and how he was so sure that he WILL end the killing game. Kokichi even had his effigy in his room because he saw it as a clue or evidence that can help later, he needed to know what he was hiding and what his talent was.) and despite all that when Shuichi asks why he doesn’t want Rantaro to be the one, he says “Because you’d rather have Kaede back.” Of course he writes it off as a lie, but then right after that he SHOWS Shuichi his interest in Rantaro saying he might be working for the mastermind. The exact lines are:

Kokichi: “What if Rantaro was working for the mastermind? Bringing him to life might be a bad idea.” 

(Trying to make Shuichi believe that he really did lie there about his reason why he didn’t want Rantaro to come back by making him believe that THIS was the real reason. I don’t know exactly if he entertained the idea or not, but he most probably did not believe Rantaro to be the mastermind here. He might have even made up that killing game anime he was talking about. Its’ real for us but might not be for them.)

Shuichi: “N-no that’s idiotic! Rantaro couldn’t have been working for the mastermind...:

“But is it really impossible? We only knew Rantaro for a short time. He did seem as though he was kind of used to the killing game”

The “used to” in that sentence was highlighted. THIS was Kokichi’s intention, to make Shuichi realise that Rantaro knew more than he let on. Which reinforces Kokichi’s interest in him. But Shuichi fell for Kokichi’s trap earlier and didn’t notice at all that he slipped the fact Rantaro would give more information.

It’s confusing I know, Kokichi’s thing is mind games after all. But what I’m trying to say is that for Kokichi’s goal to figure out this killing game and how to end it Rantaro would be most ideal to bring back but he just wanted to tell Shuichi that he’d rather have Kaede instead just so he’s happy. The evidence for that is how even after he says its a lie he lowkey shows Shuichi he’s more interested in Rantaro instead. It reminds me of those scenes where he says “WAAAHH I THOUGHT YOUD KNOW I HATE COFFEE” then right after he’s like “I’m tired of all that crying can I have a cup of coffee please.” Or “I actually can’t taste anything!” then “anyway my faves are spice and sugar!”

Kokichi did say something insensitive when he said “Is it cause Kaede died or whatever?” but it didn’t bother Shuichi at all he just brushed it off since he saw how he acted in the trial earlier. It wasn’t a surprise to him. Kaede’s death affected Kokichi too, and that line doesn’t match up with what he said about bringing Kaede back.

You never know what’s the truth and what’s a lie with Kokichi, everything he says contradicts each other. So how is it that all these people who hate Kokichi and call him toxic take his worst lines or moments as the truth when the context of his entire character and motive says otherwise. When he had to crush Shuichi the most so he believes that he is full of malice without a single doubt. To make him believe he was really the mastermind immediately, so he doesn’t go all detective on him like he usually does.

Kokichi’s actions were terrible yes but they were LIES he did it for a purpose that’s what makes him a grey character when in a KILLING GAME. It’s shown in salmon team that under normal circumstances the two would get along and Shuichi would want to learn more about Kokichi and his true self.

TLDR; Leave these children be, they were in a killing game. No ship is toxic unless it’s shown that person was terrible / messed up from the start and would hurt whoever they’re with. Those users just obviously don’t like Kokichi and hate seeing him with anyone XD and it’s obvious with how they blame him over a motive Monokuma/ the Mastermind has created and straight up ignoring the intentions behind his actions.

Now without evidence and stuff, truly speaking from my heart from here with full on bias XD

I get hating a character or a ship but oh my god can you not spread misinformation for others to feel obligated to agree? Toxic is such a strong word and I hate how people keep associating it with every ship they dislike. Making others feel bad for what comforts them! If Saiouma was so toxic how come it makes so many people happy? How come it makes people literally calm down,  stop crying, and feel warm. Saiouma is one of the most adorable and realistic ships out there... Don’t ruin it for everyone else just because you don’t agree with how we feel. Just say you’re not a fan and move on!

Anyway don’t worry your ship is very valid! You can continue supporting them without feeling any guilt and if anyone calls it toxic they can see me so I break their kneecaps.

[bitterepiphany]

my thoughts on 139

part 1 of 2

***big spoilers for 139 and the manga***

so, i read 139.... and as much as, yeah, it's disappointing (imo), and yeah, it doesn't really make sense (again, imo), this is what isayama gave us, and there's nothing we can do to change it, despite our complaints. THIS is the ending we got, and ill be damned if i don't try and at least understand it

and a disclaimer: these are entirely MY opinions, if you disagree, that's fine! these are just my thoughts and analysis on the chapter and it's perfectly okay if you have different opinions about it. also, this is going to be quite long, just a warning

so i'd like to start by saying that none of us actually know what eren saw back in chapter 90 when he kissed historia's hand. throughout the whole wfp arc we've seen eren (mostly) from an outside perspective. his true motivations have, for the most part, only been revealed to us through the reactions and perceptions of others. take chapter 123 for example, when armin figures out that eren is actually on their side by activating the rumbling, but then is confused as to why he tore down all of the walls, rather than just the one in shiganshina

i guess the way i'm trying to rationalise it is through what eren is desiring to be the outcome of this situation. he cares for his friends. we know this. he loves them more than anything. it seems to me that he is aware of his friend's desires. the people of paradis are in an impossible situation. if they activate the rumbling, they kill off all the other humans outside of the island. if they don't, they all get massacred by marley and the other world forces. so here, eren is trying to give them a solution that doesn't mean (entire) world genocide. he knows that armin and his friends don't support the rumbling, but also understands the cost of the freedom he so desperately wishes his friends to have. so he comes to a compromise - set off the rumbling, make his friends the saviours of the world, and prove to the rest of humanity that they were wrong in thinking that all of the people on paradis were 'devils'.

armin makes a good point here. did eren really have to go this far? and eren's lack of response is really answer enough for us. we don't know. it's not something for us to know. it just is.

so enter the founder ymir. this is one of the only parts of this chapter that really make sense to me and i'm able to piece together in my head. ymir was in love with king fritz. that's something that has already been established. we've all wondered why ymir didn't just break the restrictions holding her as basically a slave to fritz when she was so powerful. and as much as it might seem cringey and boring, it was simply love. since she gained her titan power, ymir was (however superficially and non-genuinely) acknowledged. and after being a kicked-upon slave her whole life, being acknowledged and valued by the king would have been incredible for her. so it does make sense that she would fall in love with the only one who (presumably) gave her life any value.

and love makes us do stupid things. we hold onto the things we love, even if we know that it brings us more hardship than happiness. and that's what ymir was experiencing. she couldn't stop loving king fritz, even though it brought her pain. and that's tragic.

ymir was a slave to love. love didn't mean freedom to her. enter mikasa. mikasa, who has never been a slave to anything in her life. mikasa, who has loved eren unconditionally, and has chosen to love eren, despite his urgings for her to forget him. now, i see the differences in ymir and mikasa's love as being the choice to love. ymir saw her love as restrictive and painful, and wished to be free from it. mikasa actively chose to love eren, despite everything, and was still 'free', so to say - proven by her wrapping the scarf around herself in 138, choosing not to forget eren, because she loved him. and it's quite poignant to me because it is her choice, and her choice alone that makes her do this.

so maybe ymir was waiting for someone who could show her that love isn't just the pain she's become accustomed to, and that love can be pure and freeing, rather than restrictive. maybe that's why ymir was standing and smiling as mikasa kissed eren, because she saw the pure love that mikasa had for him, and how she chose him freely. maybe mikasa was that person who showed her how love wasn't necessarily a bad thing. but again, it's not something we will ever know for certain, and as eren says:

now that's just my interpretation of this whole 'ymir was waiting for mikasa' thing, and there are still some things that don't really make that much sense to me, but that's how i'm rationalising it.

the power's of the founding titan have clearly taken a massive toll on eren. he now exists in all of time itself. as he says, he's just trying to reach an end goal, and even doing that is extremely taxing for him due to the past, present, and future he is experiencing all at once. and i believe that end goal is split into two different parts - eren helping ymir find mikasa; and eren trying to find the best possible outcome for his friends in regards to paradis' fate. he has seen the future, and that future meant the inevitable rumbling, so that was what he had to achieve.

i've always held the belief that eren is a 'slave to freedom', doing everything he can to achieve the freedom he so desperately wants. but now it seems that eren is a slave to the freedom of his friends, and the freedom of the founder ymir, rather than the freedom of himself. and honestly? that kinda contradicts what his character has been up to this point, but again, that's just my opinion.

so eren made the dina titan eat his mum instead of bertholdt. i'm not quite sure why everyone is so caught up on this fact? yes, it's a horrible thing. but you can clearly tell that this was not an easy thing for eren to do. it explains why bertholdt was ignored after he came out of his titan, and wouldn't doing this give eren the drive he needs to have, the hatred that is necessary for him to 'keep moving foward'? i remind you all that eren massacred 80% of the human race; what makes you think he is going to stop his goals simply because he doesn't want his mother to die. but if his mother hadn't died, would eren be where he is today? i don't think so.

these next few pages make me sad. now, this is just me trying to make sense of what happens, not me saying that this is a good thing that isayama did with eren's character. i think here, we see eren as something he tries hard not to acknowledge - human. i think a lot of us forget that eren is only a young 19 year old boy, who has the fate of the world thrust in his hands. did he ask for this? no.

no, eren is only trying to follow the path that was set out for him, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. he's so young, and he loves mikasa and the rest of his friends so much that it hurts him to have to make the choice to be away from them. while he does work for the greater purpose of freedom, and actively chooses to do this and make choices because of this, he is still bound to yearn and long for the things he could have had - just like the little alternate reality we got in 138 about living the rest of his life in peace with mikasa. like he says, he wants mikasa to live happily, but it hurts him to acknowledge that his death is the only way to bring that about (in his opinion, at least).

here, eren is reminded of why he has made the choices leading up to this moment. freedom. that is what he is striving for. even if the founder's powers are messing up his head and making him unsure of why he even did all this, he did it for freedom.

now, i'm not gonna address the 'thanks for being a murderer for us' line. i can't explain that one. it just doesn't make any sense to me and i'm not gonna try and make it make sense. sorry.

i'm only allowed 10 images per post so this will just be part 1!

[prettywordsyouleft]

Labelling Love | Part 4 (Collab)

Summary: Meeting you changed the way Eunwoo viewed romance and love entirely.

Pairing: Cha Eunwoo x female reader

Genre: university au / romance / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: Welcome to the second series in the monthly Love In Fours Ways collab with @jackiejacks923​ @noona-clock​ & @this-song-thats-only-for-you​ . In the final week of each month during this collab, we’ll be each sharing a mini-series using 4 of the pictures/concepts illustrated in the book that inspired our series that I’ve credited below.

Credit to: Puuung - Love Is In The Small Things // #76 , #60 , #4 , #33

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 // Collab Masterlist

Part 4 - Visiting The Library Together

Even after all this time of dating you, Eunwoo realised this was the first time he was meeting you at the library. He was always the one to arrive first or you would enter together.

It only hit him when the déjà vu experience washed over him as he stood in the lobby staring at you reading a book at the table. Much as it had two years ago, his heart began to thud erratically in his chest and his breathing heightened.

Unlike then, however, he grinned.

Eunwoo had been so scared to accept what he felt back then could have led to something as magical as he had with you now. Perhaps he was a hopeless romantic after all.

He was certain now that he had fallen in love with you at first sight.

Of course, it had taken him all this time to admit that to himself. However, ever since he had told you last winter that he loved you for the first time, he didn’t go long between uttering it again. And if he wasn’t in a position to say it out loud, he would show you.

Which was what he did when he reached out to give your shoulder a gentle squeeze before sitting down across from you at the table.

Closing the textbook, you rested your hands under your chin and stared over at him lovingly. “Hey you.”

“Studying going well?”

“Hm, let me see,” you said softly, staring at him for some time before nodding with a sly smile. “Yes, I think you’ll do.”

Eunwoo couldn’t help but chuckle despite rolling his eyes at your response. “Quit looking at my face and do something more productive. Exams are just around the corner.”

“I’d aced a test all about you.”

“There’s still a whole lot about me you have to learn, don’t be so rash.”

“Maybe you should give me a mock exam so I can stretch my expertise,” you offered and Eunwoo shook his head as he pulled out his laptop and textbook. You whined lightly. “You’re here to actually study?”

“Well, that’s why we meet up in the library, Y/N.”

“Didn’t you once say this is where you saw me before our first class together?”

“You remember that?”

“I even chose the same table.”

Eunwoo tilted his head as he looked over at you. “You choose the exact same table every time you study on this level.”

“Because it’s-”

“In the center of the room and provides the best studying environment. I know.”

You folded your arms across your chest with a smirk. “Are you practising for your exam on me?”

“No, I don’t have time to take that test yet,” he admitted, opening the screen to his laptop. “Though there is something I realised today.”

“Which is?”

“Back then I was struggling to know what I felt when I saw you for the first time.” Smiling over at you, Eunwoo entangled his legs with yours under the table. “It seems completely out of my depth, however.”

“What did you feel? Attraction? Did I intrigue you?” you wondered, dropping your hands onto the table and leaning in closer to learn the answer as if Eunwoo was about to utter a secret.

So he prepared it like one, looking around you both before whispering. “Love.”

“Don’t mess with me!” you huffed, getting up and heading into the rows of bookshelves to the right. Eunwoo abandoned his computer and followed you, pulling you further into an aisle where fewer people frequented. He then placed a hand upon the shelf above your head and the other around your waist. You gasped at his bold move. “What are you doing?!”

“You always call me a romantic. Isn’t this one of the moves made in romance novels? The handsome student blocks the main protagonist up against the books and hopes they don’t whisper of the sins that happen upon them?” he suggested before ducking his head down to kiss you.

Despite your concern before, once his lips melded against yours, you gripped at the front of his top and stretched up to meet him midway. The kiss was sweeter than usual, perhaps being chased with the concept of being caught out by another student. This idea spurred Eunwoo on, kissing you until he sensed movement coming towards you both.

Instantly reaching for the spine of a book, he then flipped it open and then blinked.

Of course, it was in Latin.

“Well, this is rather a difficult text to understand,” he mentioned as you slapped his chest and barely gave him the time to place it back on the shelf before dragging him back to your table. Gesturing for him to collect his belongings, you then dashed out of the library, all but running down the main steps leading into the largest building on campus.

And then you started to laugh.

“Okay, the one time you purposely put effort into being romantic and it feels way too much!” you confessed in between giggles and Eunwoo bit at his bottom lip whilst shrugging.

“You didn’t like it?”

“Who wouldn’t like that?” you admitted, poking him in the chest. “Especially with such a handsome student like you.”

“You know, as students, we should be studying right now,” he reminded, but you shook your head adamantly.

“How am I meant to understand anything today after hearing my boyfriend tell me he fell in love at first sight with me?”

“I guess that might be difficult to navigate.”

“I’m jealous,” you told him with a pout and Eunwoo frowned. Following you over to the stone ledge lining the library’s courtyard, you let out a dejected sigh. “I can’t say I fell in love at first sight with you.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Why would that be a good thing?” you wondered and Eunwoo leaned over to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“Because you’ve been able to approach us with clarity for a whole lot longer than I have. From the very beginning, I’ve been overwhelmed by you. And it confused me because I thought I didn’t believe in things like love at first sight. Even though it’s the only thing that makes sense to me now, I wish I could contest it. Just so my logical side can be satisfied.”

“Logic has no place inside the heart,” you murmured, placing your hand over his. You beamed up at him. “That’s what belongs in your mind. Your heart led you to me. You shouldn’t regret that.”

“And you shouldn’t be jealous that it took you some time to let your heart find mine. I mean, you acted before me in most situations.”

“It’s been both of us. I distinctively remember almost face planting last Christmas when you told me you loved me.”

Eunwoo laughed. “I did appreciate you asking me out on our first date too.”

“We should continue to surprise each other like this.”

“Deal.”

“So what should we do now that we’re not going to study today?” you asked and Eunwoo shot you a look.

“Who says I can’t study today?”

“You’ll leave me to struggle like this?!”

“If you want to get behind in your studies all because I said some cheesy romantic lines to you, then that’s up to you.”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“You’re welcome to come over to mine whilst I study,” he offered and you glowered at Eunwoo, folding your arms firmly across your middle again.

“Can’t you go back to being the unproductive one in my company?”

“I had enough of that back then. It’s your turn now.” Eunwoo smirked. “But don’t worry I know how to help you with your problem. We’ll work together as a team. If you spend all your time with me, maybe you’ll be able to overcome this moment.”

You smiled, though your next words contradicted the gesture. “You’re not funny.”

“Who knows, you might not be the only one with feelings to explore,” he continued and you couldn’t hold back your laugh before diving into his arms.

Nestling against his shoulder, you let out a sigh of content. “I love visiting the library with you. We have spent a lot of our time together in that place.”

“Do you want to go back in but up to another floor?” he suggested and you lifted your head to glance at Eunwoo. He grinned mischievously. “If you can let me get an entire page of my exam essay written, I might even reward you again in the bookshelves.”

“What an offer,” you replied with a laugh and shook your head. “You underestimate your own self-control. I bet you’ll find yourself staring across at me and grow distracted from your studies altogether.”

“What will you do if that happens?”

Standing, you tugged Eunwoo back towards the building. “I guess I’ll have to press you into a bookshelf myself.”

“So either way, we’ll be thankful that the books don’t have ears?” he surmised and you giggled, heading back to the library, shooting him a demure look over your shoulder before bounding up the stairs again.

Eunwoo chased after you, knowing that he was eager to prove you wrong and end up rewarded. And even if he did fail and found himself staring at you mid-thought, he knew it would only lead to kissing you in the seclusion of an aisle of books.

Had he known back then that the initial reaction he felt towards you would lead to this; he knew he wouldn’t have believed it for a second.

But now that he believed in love at first sight, he was certain every time he looked up at you would lead him to further experiences shared together.

And that’s what love was all about, after all.

_________________

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[raziroo]

Chapter 3 | I Am Not At All Wise

Pairing: There's hints, but none

Genre: Angst?

Warnings: Overly Casual Mentions of Depression and Anxiety, Mentions of Trading of Lives

Word Count: 1,926

Author's Note: This might appear a little rushed, because I got this sudden surge of inspiration and sat down to write this and this isn't even proofread. Sorry, hehe.

‘Guys, what’s wrong with you?! This my father we’re talking about, my father! Why are you so hesitant to trade him for Lotor?’

The tense energy in the room only became even more suffocating when Pidge let that question, among others, loose like cannonballs. I was glad I was sitting even a bit away from the ongoing discussion, because the questions and not up to par answers were succeeding in making me uncomfortable. After all, the topic at hand wasn’t light at all – a topic such as trading of lives is one that questions your morals, your beliefs, literally everything you, as a person, stand for. I stared at Pidge, her absolutely enraged expression making me gulp nervously`. If Pidge didn’t get her father back now, after finding out his destination, then God knows how many shots are going to get fired at whom. And although I’m not saying that Pidge is wrong, she isn’t even right.

That’s confusing.

What I meant to say was, that although Pidge’s actions and fury and incredulousness were fully justified, it didn’t mean that we could all just nod heads in tandem and send Lotor off as some sort of pig for slaughter in exchange of Pidge’s dad. It wasn’t fair.

As my eyes lost focus, I recalled Captain America’s words – we don’t trade lives.

I snapped out of my thoughts. I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t want to. I wouldn’t, ultimately. Heading to my room now instead of just sitting there and making myself look like an unopinionated fool wasn’t helping me anyways, and neither was Lotor’s presence a couple feet beside me.

I decided to head to my room.

After all, that was what I was best at, wasn’t it? After finally accepting that I was a time traveler and couldn’t ever see my friends or family ever again and that aliens did actually exist, and not just on Mars (wait, did aliens exist on Mars? I never asked that), all I did for a good sum of time was hide in my room. Activities except hiding in my room included roaming through the castle and running to my room as soon as I deducted any trace of intelligent life near me, being strangely intimate with the white lion – intimacy including venting about how I was probably depressed, possibly had anxiety, caressing the lioness because she’s beautiful, and nestling in her cockpit because she felt like home – and running to my room when Shiro questioned me about my connection with White.

A bit after, when I felt more reassured and had begun craving human communication, I finally emerged from my cave, only to find that some of the Paladins didn’t seem too happy with my presence. Time went on, spirits fell, only to rise once again in blazing hopes of dethroning Zarkon, and my naturally social abilities helped me blend in with the Paladins soon. A lot of the comfort I felt among the Paladins, I owed to Shiro and Hunk. Those two were literally angels, especially to me. I couldn’t count on all the fingers of the Paladins and Allura combined how may times those two, and occasionally Lance, came to offer me a hug or talk to me when I looked glum. Even Allura and Pidge talked to meif they were free. The only person I had problems interacting with was Keith. But we’d nod to each other, say our greetings, and I accepted that. I couldn’t be besties with everyone. However, mine and Keith’s communication skills only worsened and problems only increased once Shiro disappeared. Keith straight up would refuse to pilot the Black Lion, and even when he finally agreed, he was so unorganized and his decisions so rash it was costing the coalition. When Lions started becoming unstable to fight after longer, tougher battles, White was expected to fill in. After all, it was the White Lion’s purpose – to be the mind of Voltron when the Paladins couldn’t, to keep the soul, fire, water, air and flora elements in check, Allura had once said to me. Only, White needed a pilot, a Paladin. And all expectations of being White’s pilot were pinned on me, naturally, because I was the one who seemingly materialized in her cockpit out of nowhere.

I, obviously, failed to do that. Because apparently (and quite obviously, if I do say so myself) even though White warmed up the cockpit for me when I slept there and seemed to purr when I caressed her face, I wasn’t worthy enough, in her gaze, to be a Paladin. And I truly had no qualms about that. The only issue was that Keith wasn’t satisfied with that. Pidge and Lance tried to hide it, but they too, felt that I should try harder. Hunk comforted me when I accidentally let the hurt I was feeling shine through. Allura tried to convince everyone that it wasn’t my fault at all, that the Lions only accepted whom they deemed fit to Pilot them, and the reason the White Lion even was the “extra” Lion in the first place was that it was hardest than any of the other Lions to convince to be Pilot of. It was simply too calculating and cynical and choosy – and I agreed with White wholly, because stepping in as the voice of reason, as the mind of Voltron when all these worthy, noble, brave people who were specifically selected to be the defender and judge of the universe when no one else could failed to do their jobs, then you needed to be one hell of a person to be honoured with the name “White Paladin of Voltron”.

When Shiro had come back, or as he said, when Keith brought him back, the Castle seemed to light up more. I understood why he was chosen to be the soul to combine the other elements and form Voltron. I was ecstatic, perhaps happier than some of the Paladins even, but that didn’t mean I didn’t notice – or rather, didn’t choose to shrug off - his strange and simply out of character behaviour at times. I wasn’t the only one that did. It was when I voiced to White about my concerns, and she glowed – literally glowed as if in agreement did I know that shit was serious. White, as weirdly impossible as it sounds, also noticed. She knew, too, that something wasn’t right with Shiro. It was beyond me how she did, but I didn’t get to ponder on that for too long.

Why?

Because Lotor happened. He arrived as our saviour at the most unexpected moment and in the most unexpected way, and then became unpredictability, unanswered questions, and uncertainty personified for us. How many rifts and arguments he alone had caused between the Paladins was the slightest bit alarming, but justified, in my opinion. Lotor had succeeded in messing up our functioning. It didn’t matter if it was only a tad – he was the anthropomorphic form of all the flaws and hesitancies and wrongs and uncertainties in the coalition that we’d turned a blind eye to.

And now Zarkon had offered us Pidge’s dad’s freedom in exchange of Lotor, but I would be lying if I said if I wasn’t the tiniest bit worried as to just what Zarkon would do to Lotor. I know, I know, I really was no one to be straining my brain for that, since Lotor was an alien Prince who had equal chances of being good and evil, was capable of killing us all if he wished to, and had probably endured worse than his father’s wrath. But that wasn’t even the biggest issue we had. Pidge getting fired up was reasonable enough, I was aware of how emotionally driven she could become at times despite being a genius. And her brain refusing to work when her family came into play was the reason I was bothered most – even if she convinced the other Paladins to go through with the exchange, there was absolutely no surety that Zarkon would keep his part of the deal. It was legit the dumbest, most irrational thing the protagonist could do. If that happened, we’d lose both Pidge’s father, and an extremely valuable asset to the coalition.

I didn’t really realize that during my very acceptable train of self-depreciating thoughts I’d changed my route and had instinctively begun for White. I guess it was only right, as I felt more at ease there than anywhere. It was only when I reached her and stroked her, she seemed to… close in on her herself. I furrowed my brow, a small frown on my lips.

I sighed. It was probably nothing.

Relaxing my facial muscles, I closed my eyes, leaned forward, and nudged White’s snout. I jumped back with a start when instead of the usual purr or whimper, she growled at me. The crease between my brows returned with a higher intensity.

‘What is it, girl? Hmm?’ I cooed at her, not risking touching her. ‘Is something wrong? Do you not want to talk? Should I go?’

Silence was what I received in exchange.

‘My love,’ yes I called White “my love”, “girl”, have and will continue to call her “babe”, and no you cannot do jack about it. ‘You need to tell me, please,’ I continued, my voice gentle as ever, ‘how am I supposed to know what you want to say? You’ve never growled at me before. I don’t know how to interpret that gesture. Do I take it as you being upset? Angry? Sad?’ She still didn’t answer. All the life seemed to leave her.

I tilted my head. My sigh bounced off the walls.

‘The White Lion is said to be the mind of Voltron,’ a naturally assertive, deep, thunder-like voice called. I was sure I jumped at least a foot before whipping my head to where the voice resonated from. Lotor. What -?

‘Forgive me if I scared you. I thought it wise to offer some assistance; you seemed to be in need of help.’

I didn’t answer. He took it as a “yes, I need your help”. ‘The most probable reason it is not responding to your calls, is because you are contradicting what the White Lion stands for, you aren’t being wise. That is, assuming the Lion does answer you typically.’

I turned back to White, my jaw setting. My lingering suspicion turned into certainty at Lotor’s remarks.

Well. As much as I cherished my relations with White, I wasn’t going to voice my thoughts and concerns regarding the life trade. I wasn’t particularly keen on getting involved. I wasn’t the White Paladin. I wasn’t the voice of reason. I couldn’t be. This was the exact reason as to why I couldn’t be the White Paladin. I had many a thought, but didn’t always think it wise to share them with others.

Especially not when “others” included a leader that was not being himself, a princess who wanted to get rid of the Galra empire and Zarkon as soon as possible no matter the cost, and a Paladin who was going feral and becoming blind by rage at the thought of not getting her father back when she was so close.

Yes. Now definitely not.

Without sparing Lotor or White another glance, I headed to my room, for real this time. I didn’t notice both of their piercing gazes aimed at my retreating figure.

[sleepymarmot]

Opinion: MAG 187 doesn’t invalidate Helen’s more sympathetic moments

It is possible to interpret the episode as retconning everything the Distortion has ever said and done into a manipulation targeted at Jon, which would undo the character’s complexity and make them revolve entirely around the protagonist. The key for this interpretation seems to lie in the following exchange: 

ARCHIVIST You worked to hurt us and help us, all with the same smile, until we can barely tell one from the other. Keeping us off-balance, constantly second-guessing our own opinions of you. Never quite crossing a line we could never forgive, but never putting yourself on the line either. And when one face finally stopped smiling, you just changed the face.

HELEN Fine. So if that’s all true… why? Why would I do any of that? What’s my actual motive?

ARCHIVIST I don’t think you even have one. It’s just what you are.

But I don’t think most of what was said here is new information.

Let’s go back to season 3. Here’s how the newborn Helen Distortion explains her identity:

HELEN Michael isn’t me. Not now.

ARCHIVIST What happened?

HELEN He got… distracted. Let feelings that shouldn’t have been his overwhelm me. Lost my way.

In other words, the Distortion’s modus operandi is a long, long game of cat and mouse (see also: MAG 146 Threshold). Michael got sidetracked by his (or Michael Shelley’s) revenge against the Archivist(s) and decided to actually kill the mouse. But it was unnatural for the Distortion, so it shook off the troublesome identity, and Helen was both an instrument to get rid of Michael and a continuation of what was started by him and worked so well.

ARCHIVIST A-are you still going to kill me?

HELEN No. That was Michael’s desire, not mine.

The Distortion doesn’t want to send the Archivist into its corridors. Why would it, when it’s so rewarding to misdirect and mess with him in other ways?

Now, for episode 115.

HELEN I… I’m not… I’m not entirely sure. I’m… having trouble. I don’t think I was meant to be Helen.

ARCHIVIST I’m – I don’t understand.

HELEN Neither do I. Michael was… pulling away. His anger was interfering. I don’t, I don’t think I have a choice but to be Helen. Self is difficult.

ARCHIVIST Michael, he, uh, he, he wasn’t meant to be you either, though, was he?

HELEN No.

There’s an internal conflict between Helen and the Distortion -- just like there was between Michael and the Distortion. I don’t think the new episode invalidates or undoes that. On the contrary: it restated that Michael strayed from the Distortion’s purpose, which means Helen could have done the same.

HELEN Something happened when I became ‘Helen’. She wasn’t right, she wasn’t ready.

ARCHIVIST I don’t…

HELEN Before, talking to you made Helen feel better.

ARCHIVIST You’re not that Helen!

HELEN I just want… I just want to feel better.

Helen was supposed to be a meal that replenished the Distortion’s energy. But it seems that the food was not as fully digested as the Distortion would prefer, and tried to bite back.

ARCHIVIST Wh-what? Why should I believe… a-a-any of this? You’ve told me over and over that you’re… what was the phrase? The ‘throat of delusion’? All of this is –

HELEN I have never told you a lie, Archivist. I wouldn’t dare. I, I just thought you might understand.

ARCHIVIST Uh… How could I possibly…

HELEN We’re both changing, Archivist. I had hoped, that together –

The Distortion has never lied (and now we know why). The Distortion has truly changed. Its new face genuinely wanted Jon’s company, just like the previous face had wanted him dead. But both faces interact with Jon in a way that leaves him confused and upset, because such is their nature.

In MAG 131, Helen insists that her identity is not a mask but a new but inseparable part of herself. As we now know, she is not lying: 

ARCHIVIST

You’re still wearing her face.

HELEN

Not this again. I’m not “wearing” anything, Archivist. I am at least as much ‘Helen Richardson’ as you are the ‘Jonathan Sims’ that first joined this Institute. Things change. People change. It happens.

We get a double confirmation that Helen is different from the Distortion’s previous incarnations in MAG 146, in the words of both Helen and her victim:

This wasn’t like before; there was no playfulness here, none of that malicious joy that I had always felt coming off it. Now there was just a cold hunger, a deep anger, as though I had no right to just stand there looking at it. The street was silent, but I could feel it screaming at me to open it.

HELEN (all business) Oh, well; the son, I was pursuing long before I was even Michael. And technically, I didn’t eat the old man. He passed away from terror long before I got a chance to open properly.

ARCHIVIST His son Marcus – he – he was fine when I read his father’s statement two years ago, but now, suddenly, I can’t get through to him.

HELEN No. I imagine not. I decided it was time to finish that game a few months ago.

ARCHIVIST You – Why?

HELEN Not sure. I suppose Helen didn’t have quite the same attachment to him as a project. I’m not quite as much for decades-long campaigns of subtle terror these days.

ARCHIVIST (soft) That’s horrible.

HELEN Is it? We do what we need to do when it comes to feeding, don’t we? (pointed) Don’t we, Archivist?

Helen Distortion doesn’t derive joy from terrorizing people for months or years with doors. That’s just food now. Now she gets the same joy from messing with people with the help of her humanlike appearance and personality.

An often-quoted line from MAG 152:

HELEN Even if it were capable of doing so, what possible reason would the Eye have to change how you feel, when it makes no difference to your actions? Helen was like you, at first. She felt such guilt over taking people. Until one day she realized she wasn’t going to stop doing it. So she chose to stop feeling guilty.

Again, the new episode confirms two things: 1) Helen wasn’t lying. 2) Helen was telling this to Jon to make him doubt his loyalties. And again, this is not new information! She laughs at his misery and confusion very openly!

Episode 157. Jon gets a shocking reminder that Helen is Just Here To Troll:

HELEN Because I have a good enough sense of what’s going on to know that it will be much more fun without my involvement! (begins laughing)

...

ARCHIVIST Just tell me what’s going on. Please.

HELEN (gleefully) Bad things, Archivist. Really bad things.

MAG 164, Helen’s first appearance in s5. There’s so much going on, let’s try to list at least some of it: she congratulates jonmartin on their relationship, immediately tries to play them against each other, cheerfully deflects all blame onto Jon and also Georgie and Melanie, admits to betrayal, announces she wants to be friends “again”, then expresses pity that Jon isn’t hostile to her enough. Absolutely everything she does is about creating relationship chaos.

MAG 166, second encounter with Helen post-Change, and she is delighted to see disagreement between Jon and Martin unprompted by her:

MARTIN Yeah, I, I, I think we should go for it, get our murder on!

ARCHIVIST (disbelief) Sorry, what?

HELEN (surprised delight) Yes, Martin!

In MAG 177, she moves the focus of ridiculously blatant manipulation and provocation onto Basira, and also doesn’t bother to hide she enjoys scaring her “friends”:

HELEN Not interrupting anything, Am I?

MARTIN Christ, Helen, you scared the life out of me.

HELEN [Insincere] Sorry, darling.

And finally, MAG 183. By now, everyone in the scene is aware that she’s here just to get a rise out of our heroes and metaphorically eat popcorn.

MARTIN Look. Listen, I’m getting really sick of all thi–

ARCHIVIST Leave it, Martin. She’s just trying to get under your skin.

MARTIN Yeah? Well, she’s really good at it!

HELEN Aww. Thanks, sweetie. But to be honest, I’m mainly just here to see which path you choose.

Which brings us to MAG 187. We already know that Helen isn’t Jon and Martin’s “friend” as in “ally” -- she hangs out with them to provoke strong responses and sow chaos. The plot twist is that she’s not just doing it for fun, like a human would -- it is her way of avatar feeding.

The Distortion has always been a trickster. I am glad that they died this way, instead of becoming either an over-the-top villain or a reluctant hero -- before the plot could corner them into becoming one. And as Jon said, the reason Helen had to die was not her trickster nature, but the side she picked on the “Eyepocalipse: keep or cancel?” issue. 

The reveal in 187 does not contradict the information we had before, and so it doesn’t retcon or undo the complexity or character development that the Distortion had. The fact that the Distortion fed on Jon (and others’) reaction to them does not mean that they never had any motivations or thoughts beyond that. Jon says it himself: “keeping us off-balance” is not the Distortion’s motivation, it’s “who they are”, it’s the natural, instinctive way they conduct themselves. We have learned that the Distortion's behavior was Eldritch Trolling instead of Regular Trolling, that's all.

[jaehyunskitten22]

(Poly!) Wonho x Changkyun x Chubby!Reader - Two’s a Party... Part 1

prequel // part one // part two

Summary: You and Changkyun are unlikely childhood best friends- you being the shy chubby girl and him being a flirtatious, traditionally attractive guy. Still you two hit it off, and grow very fond of one another. But what happens when he meets someone new? Is there a place for you in his life anymore? 

AKA- How the hell Changkyun managed to get himself into this mess

(A/N) Hello cutie pies. I would not blame you guys at all if you are angry and annoyed at me for taking so many breaks, but 2020 has been a freaking dumpster fire for literally everyone so I feel like you guys might understand (at least i hope >,<) I love you guys so much, and I don’t want you to forget that you matter, and you’re so important. You’re never alone, and you are capable of doing anything, even if you’re too scared to try <3 the beginning is a little rusty, but I hope you guys enjoy! xx

Changkyun and you had been friends for too long to remember at this point. You two had grown up together in the same school and at first he seemed almost a little cold and slightly arrogant and flirtatious; he was mouthy and couldn’t resist a challenge. You were so shy and quiet, being giggly and chatty within your circle of friends but to others not so much. You wanted to avoid conflict and he was often right in the middle of it.

That’s why people were so often confused by the way he had taken an interest in you, how he would hang around you and try to get you to open up; he did like a challenge after all. Everyone just assumed that he would give up eventually as he never seemed to be able to get you to talk, but they were then shocked to see your friend groups slowly blend together, and how you and Changkyun had grown inseparable.

It would have been foolish to say that you weren’t attracted to him, he had a tempting cool and relaxed energy around him, like nothing bothered him and that had piqued your (and everyone else’s)  interest. But you quickly realized he was just a big dork, playful and chatty when he wanted to be and it helped dissolve your nervousness around him. He was quietly caring, not liking to express his emotions verbally, but more through small touches, looks, and actions, playing with your fingers when you two sat together or smiling at you if you apologized for getting too excited and chatty about something, always making sure to let you know that he cared about what you had to say and that he was always present to listen, which is what really attracted you to him. 

You had never had a guy take interest in you in the way Changkyun had. He was never ashamed to be seen with you. When girls would come up to him and start to flirt, asking why he was always hanging around you and if you just wouldn't leave him alone, he never hesitated to fill in the “boyfriend” role, telling them that he was the one who wouldn’t leave you alone and how he enjoyed your company more than everyone else’s. Sometimes he would finish it off with something he knew would make their heads spin; something like “She’s pretty fucking hot too” with a wink before casually walking away. He never lied about what he said, something that made you almost mortified and you would hit him on the arm, asking why he thought something like that was necessary before rolling your eyes and walking away. He would always trail right on your heels, throwing an arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his side, and leaning down to whisper “Because it's true.” which would just make you groan in response and tell him to quit messing around, but melting into his side nonetheless.

He was attracted to you as well. He couldn’t resist flirting with you, first making you blush and then roll your eyes and laugh at him. He loved your smile and laugh, the way your cheeks would turn rose-y and the happiness in your eyes. When alone in bed together, talking about anything and everything, he would often use your laugh to cut the somber mood that conversations sometimes took, to hide how comfortable he was with you and how he was so open to you emotionally. He would lean up onto his elbow and give you a devilish smirk before going to town on you, throwing his leg over yours to keep you in place if you tried to get away. In these moments he would randomly pick up on something; how you smelled, the way the soft skin of your stomach was peeking from underneath your shirt or how close he was to you, chest heaving and breathless. He would stop then, and let his mind wander, wondering what this would be like if it was caused by his hands doing other things to your body. 

You two had definitely had your close calls; lingering hands in places that a friend’s hands shouldn’t be, subtle shifting of hips and almost kissing, but at the last minute backing off, always being interrupted or thinking better of it at the last second.

These actions made you nervous; you didn’t know what they meant to him or his reasoning behind them, and not knowing scared you. In response, you decided to distance yourself from him, instinctively wanting to protect yourself from things going bad and ruining your friendship.  In your head, it just didn’t seem plausible for him to like you, so it seemed like a bad idea to continue spending time with him to avoid giving him a chance to catch on.

But his feelings for you overwhelmed his mind. He was unable to look at anyone else the way he had begun to look at you, no one else could make him feel the things that you made him feel. He couldn’t figure out what he had done wrong, as you had seemed interested in him before. 

Hoseok came seemingly out of nowhere; at first glance he seemed like a fitness nut, a guy who couldn’t go 15 seconds without trying to shove his lifestyle onto you. But when Changkyun was introduced to him by Hyunwoo, a mutual friend, Changkyun quickly realized that he was just like a big puppy with a bright smile. He was shy but playful with a caring and protective nature, completely contradicting his original assessment’s conclusion: “gym nut alpha male”. 

When they got together you felt threatened; you felt like your spot was being filled by someone else, someone better suited for him and his companionship. Changkyun made it clear that he still wanted you around after they became an official couple, but you just felt too shy to be yourself in front of the both of them. You were very familiar with the way Hoseok looked, how seriously he took the appearance of his body and you were afraid that his attitude towards himself would apply to you as well. You didn’t want to make Changkyun feel uncomfortable or like he had to choose between the two of you if Hoseok ended up being disgusted by you or your appearance so you didn’t even give him the chance to develop an opinion on you.

As Changkyun grew closer to Hoseok, you guys continued to drift apart. He still texted you everyday, of course, but he found himself being hesitant to let those two parts of his life collide. He was confused and conflicted, because despite his slowly emerging feelings for Hoseok, he still couldn’t stop thinking about you. He tried to throw himself into his relationship with Hoseok, seeing if him putting a label on it would make it any easier but it didn’t, and he felt awful for it. 

He had started developing ideas after he and Hoseok had started sleeping together, fantasies of what it would be like to have both of you in his bed. He fantasized what you would be like and what role you would take. What would it be like?

Changkyun liked control, liked telling Hoseok what to do and how to fuck him. Hoseok liked pleasing him, wanted to be good for Changkyun and make him feel good. But you? You seemed completely clueless and like a blank canvas, someone who needed to be taught and taken care of, and that naturally fit in with Hoseok’s personality. Changkyun didn’t often imagine him fucking you, but his boyfriend instead, and him opting to sit behind you and cradle you against his body, holding you close and cooing dirty praises into your ears and telling Hoseok what to do to you, telling him how to take care of their baby. He wanted to watch his innocent Hoseok take your own innocence away, to taint you in the most beautiful ways.

All sorts of sinful and wrong thoughts. 

But there were innocent thoughts too. He often thought about how you would look, curled up between them or against Hoseok’s broad chest. Would he like making you laugh as much as he did? Or would he prefer to dote on and treat you like his little baby? It drove him crazy to think of all of the possibilities. He couldn’t help but wonder if Hoseok would be interested in you in the same way he was. 

So he brought it up to him. He told him that he loved him, and that he would never do anything to purposely jeopardize their relationship and how he and you were just friends currently, nothing more. He opened up about how he had been keeping his distance from you because he felt guilty for how he was feeling and for how much he missed you. 

“But I just can’t stop thinking about her. She’s so sweet and genuine. And loving. So, so loving. She’s caring and- and,” He had been looking at his hands, trying to avoid looking into Hoseok’s eyes. They both were sitting at the foot of their bed, facing one another, and when he looked up at Hoseok he saw that he had an unreadable look on his face, but he didn’t seem upset. He  took a calming breath and finished with  “Everything about her is beautiful. Everything.” He waited for Hoseok to say something and when he didn’t he became embarrassed, opting to flop back onto the bed and throw his arms over his eyes. 

“This is the most passionate I have probably ever heard you be, Kyunnie.” Hoseok slowly came to lay beside his sprawled out form, leaning up on his elbow while looking down at him. Truthfully he didn’t know what to say. He had never thought about this before; about how he would feel if his partner came up to him and expressed interest in another person. 

“I know… and I’m sorry. You obviously don’t have to be okay with this, but I couldn’t stand you not knowing. And I just don’t know what to do...:” He trailed off, wondering if Hoseok would mention the idea himself. 

“I’ve never been in this kind of situation before, Kyunnie. And I don’t really know what our end solution will be, but I would like to meet her…” His voice grew quiet at the end, worrying about what would happen if you didn’t like him, but he wanted to see what you were like. If Changkyun loved you this much, he knew he would like you too. And he wanted to try.

Changkyun felt a little bit of worry settle into his stomach, not knowing how he himself would react to both of the people he had grown to love so much being in the same room together. But he knew that he couldn’t handle being so distant from you anymore either. When Changkyun didn’t say anything Hoseok decided to try and bring you up again, wanting to help him feel more at ease in any way that he could.

“What’s her name, and what does she look like?” Changkyun looked at him and smiled, relieved at the change in direction. He grabbed his phone and pushed Hoseok onto his back so he could cuddle into his chest, and Hoseok responded by wrapping his arm around him and pressing a kiss to his head. Changkyun pulled up his gallery and started swiping through your pictures, a wistful sigh leaving his lips.

“Y/N. Her name is Y/N.”

[curedeity]

Ursa Major

Summary: The strange routines we form with our friends.

    Working for the WBBA was a strange experience for Hikaru Hasama, and more than half of that came from her boss, Director Ryo Hagane. 

    Hikaru had not really known what to expect from him when they had first started working together. He was Gingka’s father, and the Phoenix, which was very strange and Hikaru didn’t understand it at all. Why would he be Gingka’s father, and yet break his pointer and set him so far behind? He was a mess of contradictions that she didn’t have the energy to untangle.

    And working with him only confirmed his strange nature. Hikaru would be the first one to say that Director Hagane made no sense whatsoever, if it was an unprofessional setting of course.

    Hikaru had remained respectful at first. He was her boss after all, and none of his eccentricities were harmful. He knew full well when to get serious, like during board meetings, which kept her from having to deal with that second-hand embarrassment. But after watching him accidentally put hot sauce in his coffee for the fourth time in a month then stick his head into the water fountain to rid himself of the taste, Hikaru just rolled her eyes and turned away. 

    She couldn’t remember what exactly had started it, but she started chronicling all the stupid things Director Hagane would do in a day. Perhaps it was her way of staying sane while working under a man who could sometimes be an utter disaster, and having to manage all the workings of the WBBA. Perhaps it was also because she could respect the hilarity of some of the things he managed to do. Regardless, she’d return home each day with at least a list of at least ten moments that had slowly chipped away her belief that the Director was a functioning adult.

    Hikaru was very purposeful about remaining in contact with all her newfound friends. She made sure to send each one at least one text a week, making sure their bonds stayed forever kindled. Some of them would rarely respond, like Kyoya, while others she didn’t even have to remember to text, like Kenta, who asked for advice all the time.

    Madoka was possibly her favorite to talk to though. She always had interesting things to say, whether it be about a new project or an interesting interaction she’d had, and was a patient listener whenever Hikaru wanted to talk. 

    It was during one of these chats with Madoka where Hikaru, struggling for topics, just sent Madoka the three stupidest things Director Hagane had done the past week. Madoka sent back a video of them all being read aloud to Team Gan Gan Galaxy. Hikaru couldn’t help but crack up at the horror on Gingka’s face, the resignedness of Tsubasa, the confusion of Masamune, and Yu’s utter joy.

    After that, it became a tradition for Hikaru to text Madoka the stupidest things Director Ryo did every week. 

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

    Yuki was very diligent in the search for the Legendary Bladers, and he was lucky to have the resources of the WBBA open to him. Ms. Hikaru was very helpful, she responded to all his emails very quickly with the information he needed. She also helped to inform them about all the tournaments they were trying to check out. He was even able to have some interesting conversations through the WBBA network about astrophysics.

    Yuki was glad for that, because after having traveled with the group for a while, he had discovered that they seemed to have a few problems with remaining on task, or any form of organization.

    Not that he meant anything bad by that! Mr. Gingka was very nice, and was always encouraging him or willing to listen to his concerns, and Mr. Benkei was very… driven. And Mr. Kyoya---well Yuki tried not to think about him most of the time.

    Ms. Madoka was sane though! And they had the support of the WBBA behind them! That was certainly enough competence and professionalism to stop the end of the world!

    They were currently resting in a large hotel room the WBBA had rented for them. Yuki was performing some more research into legends that may provide any insights into their situation, Ms. Madoka was doing some bey maintenance after Mr. Gingka had decided to train a bit too close to a swamp, and the others were watching TV.

    He hardly noticed when Ms. Madoka’s phone buzzed, but when she stood up everyone quieted and the sudden change in atmosphere caused him to look up. It was rare for anything in this group to be silent, and Yuki found himself growing uneasy. This was not helped by the expressions the others wore.

    Mr. Benkei and Mr. Kyoya seemed to be suppressing smiles, though Mr. Benkei was failing given he was already softly (or as softly as he could) cackling. Mr. Gingka had his face hidden in his hands. Ms. Madoka’s shoulders were shaking, and her hand had come up to cover her mouth.

    “Come on Madoka tell us already!” Mr. Benkei exclaimed, and at least Mr. Benkei being eager about something was familiar. Mr. Gingka’s reaction was… not.

    “Alright, alright,” Ms. Madoka responded, her voice trembling with what Yuki thought (hoped/feared) was laughter. “So, today, Mr. Ryo decided that to make sure the speaker system for the stadium would work, it should be tested out. This would be the case but he apparently didn’t know that Blader DJ actually wore a mic. So he just got a megaphone and tried to yell to Hikaru, who was standing at the edge of the stadium to help with the testing.”

    What--- what had Yuki just heard?

    Mr. Gingka groaned while Mr. Benkei and Mr. Kyoya completely cracked up. Ms. Madoka was smiling at her phone with something that made Yuki’s blood run cold.

    The man they were discussing, that was the WBBA director? Mr. Gingka’s father? His name was Ryo, was it not? 

    This was the WBBA director?

    “He also attempted to climb onto the roof of the stadium to grab a kite that had gotten stuck. He did not use a ladder and therefore was stuck up there for 15 minutes while Hikaru went to grab a ladder,” Ms. Madoka continued, not even attempting to contain her glee.

    This was the man who was helping out their entire operation, the one overseeing all bladers everywhere?

    “He finally decided that they should also test the ring to make sure it was suitable for battles. Hikaru declined to battle though, so apparently Mr. Ryo went out and got another practice bey and launched and directed both of them in a mock battle. It’s apparently too long of a file to attach to a text, but Hikaru has promised to email me a copy soon.” At this last piece of news Mr. Gingka let out a sob of despair and Mr. Benkei fell off the couch with laughter.

    The world was doomed.

[migila]

MitsuChou Week, Day 1!

Day 1: Treating Her Condition

“He’s so in to me” Mitsuki heard Chou Chou say as she walked away with Sarada. All he had done was answer “yes” when she’d asked if her new dress suited her.

“Maybe it’s time we did something about that condition of hers” he mutters, but can’t keep the small, fond smile away from his face, not that he’s even trying.

“Her what now?” Boruto asks “Which of them are you even talking about? Wait, probably Chou Chou; if something was wrong with Sarada, aunt Sakura would take care of it. What’s wrong with Chou Chou?”

“She has the tragic heroine syndrome.”

“…The what now?” Boruto asks, confused. After Mitsuki explains it, Boruto just laughs.

“She’s fine, Mitsuki” he says “That’s just how she is!”

“She’s delusional” the blue haired boy points out. Boruto just shrugs “Maybe a little, but what’s the harm?”

“…” Mitsuki had no answer to that. It’s not like he really minded her delusional assumptions about his affection, so there was indeed no harm. But what if her delusions one day caught the attention of someone who would be bothered by it? Or worse, of someone who’d end up hurting her for it? There had already been a close call with that actor, even if that case had ended well in the end.

“Don’t worry about it” Boruto tells him “She’ll grow out of it eventually. Or find some sorry sucker that’ll become her boyfriend and she won’t bother you anymore with her delusions.”

Mitsuki did hope she’d grow out of it. Somehow though, the second option didn’t sound too appealing to him.

“How puzzling.”

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

For once, Mitsuki chooses to go against Boruto’s advice. He has decided that he should do something about Chou Chou’s condition. But how? He doubted she’d just go to a doctor if he told her to, nor would she agree to it even if he offered to take her there. What kind of doctor could help her in the first place? A psychologist, maybe?

“But she definitely wouldn’t agree to see one” he knew “I need to try to snap her out of it myself.”

But how?

“Hello~, Earth to Mitsuki!” the said boy jolted, looking up to see the very source of his conflicted thoughts in front of him.

“Hello Chou Chou”

“I called you many times, you know” the girl said “What are you thinking so hard about?”

“You” he said, bluntly as always, but realized his mistake right after. The girl’s condition being what it was, she was surely going to-

“Can’t get your mind off of me, can you?” she said with a proud smile “As flattered as I am, I need to remind you that I’m way out of your league.”

“…” how to get through to her? “…You’ve misunderstood.”

“Keep telling yourself that” Chou Chou says with a laugh.

“No, you really have” Mitsuki insists, and he can see he caught the girl off guard. No wonder; usually he’d just let it go after all “I think it’s time you face reality.”

“Huh?”

“We should start with the fact that not everyone is in to you just because they talk to you” Mitsuki tells her “You should stop assuming so.”

Chou Chou crossed her arms, unimpressed.

“Uhhuh, and what makes you so sure they’re not in to me? Did you ask them?”

“I did not, however- “

“Then you’re just jumping to conclusions” the girl interrupted, narrowing her eyes “Is there some particular reason why you would think that?”

Mitsuki knew what she was hinting at; despite her confidence, her appearance, her weight to be more exact, was still a source of uncertainty for Chou Chou, especially when talking about attention from the opposite sex.

“Aside from this particular delusional side of yours, no” he said, smiling a bit as he said to reassure her “That excluded, you’re fine as you are.”

He saw her blush a little. Uh-oh, he might’ve made things worse.

“You insist you’re not in to me, yet you say stuff like that!” Chou Chou laughs “You’re contradicting yourself; you know.”

“That’s not what I meant” Mitsuki said with a sigh. Normally he’d just be amused, but since the purpose was to knock some sense in to her… “But you’re proving my point by twisting my words in to something that you like.”

“Like?” Chou Chou repeated in disbelief “You think I’d want someone like you to be interested in me?”

“…” well, to Mitsuki it seemed that Chou Chou would be flattered if anyone showed any interest in her, but he was smart enough to not say that out loud.

Chou Chou, taking Mitsuki’s silence the wrong way, quickly stuttered: “I don’t mean that there’d be anything wrong with you as a person, just that- um- well…”

“I know” Mitsuki interrupted her with a smile. He wasn’t offended, he was used to this.

“Ah, okay… good” Chou Chou said, looking away awkwardly.

“But someone else might take it the wrong way, regardless of if they are or aren’t interested in you” he pointed out “If you continue with that attitude, things might get dangerous for you.”

“Ha!” Chou Chou said “So you’re that worried about me?”

This time Mitsuki wouldn’t mess this up.

“I worry about all of my friends” he clarified.

“But do you talk to everyone one on one and express your concern like this?”

“I do this all the time” Mitsuki pointed out, smiling happily “With Boruto.”

“I can imagine that; bet he’s a real piece of work” the girl snorted, her gaze momentarily softening “He is really special to you, isn’t he?”

“He’s my sun” Mitsuki said with a smile, and Chou Chou smiled back.

“And because he’s special to you, you look out for him a lot.”

Mitsuki nodded. This was one of the things he liked about Chou Chou; she didn’t question the way he saw Boruto.

“In other words: you look out for people who are special to you.”

Mitsuki froze, finally understanding the grin on her face. He’d walked straight in to her trap.

“You’re twisting my words agai-“

“Sure Mitsuki, sure” she interrupted, patting his shoulder “Whatever keeps your disappointment at bay.”

Moving her hand, she started to walk away.

“Inojin and Shikadai are waiting for me, so I’ve got to go. See ya!”

Mitsuki watched, dumfounded, as the girl walked away. He was so used to these antics of hers, and yet she still managed to catch him off guard.

“Chou Chou, you really are one of a kind…” he smiled, shaking his head “Looks like curing you will have to wait.”

[aesthyuckic]

AVENOIR | l.dh - DUODECIM

(gif not mine - credits to rightful owner)

Genre: High School AU (at beginning) ; Tarot Reader!Witch!Hyuck

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: (bold if in use) slow but with a purpose, belief contradictions, mentions of r*pe, blood, swearing, violence, mentions of abuse

Pairings: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan) x Reader (F)

II OF SWORDS: difficult choices, indecision, stalemate

Donghyuck could hear the birds chirp outside the window was well as the sun warm up the sheets of the bed on the cool morning. He hummed to himself in his half awake state before he felt the bed suddenly dip behind him. A warm hand came to rest on his shoulder that radiated through the white shirt as it gently shook him to wake up.

“Haechan, you have to wake up.” She cooed, softly from behind him.

He groaned as he hugged the pillow under his head tighter, “I fell asleep a few hours ago. I deserve to get more sleep before I go insane.”

“But it’s your birthday.” She whispered. “I wanted to do stuff to celebrate.”

“Exactly why I deserve more sleep. You should’ve wished me a happy birthday last night when I was away at midnight.”

“Fine.”

He could heard she was slightly pissed off by her tone and usually she wouldn’t have walked away so easily. He thought maybe she’d give him a break since it was his birthday after all. He heard her footsteps recede away from the bed once she got off of it which he smiled, sleepily at as he hugged the pillow again. He signed at eerily peaceful quiet, it seemed almost too quiet but he was too sleep deprived to care. Then he heard footsteps come out of nowhere, running toward him. Before he could do anything, he felt the whipped cream and frosting all over his face.

He shot up in that moment, whipping the cream out of his eyes to see the girl standing at the end of the bed with an evil grin on her face as she giggled. Which he’d admit, would have been kind of cute if he hadn’t been so ticked off. She turned around and darted out of the trailer before he could get her. He huffed before throwing the blanket off of him and running after her.

“Cosimia, I’m gonna get you back so badly!” He yelled at the top of his lungs as he slipped on his scandals and ran out.

As soon as he stepped out to go track her down, he was bombarded with all of their friends and co-workers standing right in front of him. He felt quite embarrassed about having cake all over his face, but luckily the frosting hid his red cheeks. He noticed Cosimia standing in the middle and in front of it all, now with a sweet smile on her face as everyone wished him a happy birthday and set off party poppers that littered the ground with colored paper.

He felt so small in that moment as everyone cams over and surrounded him. Sicheng even handed him a towel to wipe his face with to get rid of the frosting, which he did, happily. He felt overwhelmed by the amount of people coming over to wish him a happy birthday, yet again, while giving him a pat on his back or something as he cleaned his face. He really didn’t want to make a big deal out of his birthday or even celebrate it. It was the one time he finally got attention since they had gotten there though. It was just... harder for him to be happy about it with so many people.

He finally saw his friend emerge from everyone as they left, a small smile still gracing her face, “I’m sorry I had to wake you up like that. Everyone just wanted to say happy birthday to you.”

“And you couldn’t have just told me that?” He asked, getting the frosting and cream out of his hair with the towel.

“Have you ever heard of a surprise?” She scoffed as she crossed her arms.

“That was the intent...” Sicheng butted in. “But hey, you’re eighteen now! So as a legal adult, what do you plan on doing?”

“Wish to be seventeen again...”

“No, I meant are gonna go see an R rated movie since you can see one without your mommy.”

“You know how easy it is to sneak into a movie theatre? And don’t bring up my mommy.”

“You seem so bummed about being eighteen, usually most people can’t wait.”

“That’s because all the fun stuff got moved up to twenty-one. It’s just not all that.”

He finally handed the towel back to Sicheng, not without a frown on his face. He appeared upset about the fact that he was adult to them. They wondered why but he just felt nostalgic and started to reminisce on old memories with his friends and families. He knew Mark, Yangyang and Renjun had plans for his eighteenth as well as his mom and little siblings. Somehow, he completely forgot about it when Cosimia came along.

“I’m gonna go inside.” He said, quickly before turning back and going up the stairs.

“But we were going to cook you breakfast...” The girl pouted.

“It’s okay, I’m not hungry.” He shrugged.

The screen shut behind him with a creak. Cosimia and Sicheng both look at each other with concern. It was too obvious something bothered him beyond just the number by the heaviness in his steps. She excused herself to follow shortly after he went inside.

By the time she was back inside she could see him sitting down on the bed from the kitchen. She pouted to herself once again as she walked back into the room. She noticed there was still pieces of cake on the floor and bed he didn’t seem to care much about. He didn’t look at her when she came in, rather he continued to stare outside the window on his side. She sat down on her side of bed which was luckily still clean as his back was to her.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, softly and gently.

“Eighteen is not a great number, that’s all.” He responded.

She sighed as she crawled over to him to put her arms around him from behind in a hug, “You never learn, do you? I know there’s more to it than just that... It’s your family, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“You know you can back if you really want, Haechan. I’ve told you multiple times I’m fine on my own.”

“It’s hard to know what I want anymore...”

“Where are your tarot cards?”

“In the drawer, why?”

She didn’t answer him, rather just release him from her warm embrace which made him internally whine. She reached over to open and grab the box out. He started to feel an attachment to the cards, oddly enough. He would have never thought seeing her handling his cards, that were given by her, would make him so anxious. He could hear her shuffle the cards behind him, not very well by the little buffs and puffs. It kind of made him smile to himself as she was still horrible at shuffling.

“Fuck it.” He heard her cuss under her breath before she handed him a card over his shoulder. “The chariot; it means willpower, a journey and overcoming obstacles. That’s you when we first ran away. You didn’t really care about anything else and were focused on moving forward.”

She handed him another card.

“Death; You shouldn’t be scared of this one. It simply means profound change, letting go of attachments and endings in this situation. This is you now, meaning you are still deciding what to do but it’s a sign to let go of what was in the past and move on, whatever that means to you. You need to close one chapter to start another one.”

She handed him the last card.

“The hanged man; similar to death but different. It means letting go, breaking old patterns or habits and a metamorphosis. It’s a very clear sign to move on from the past if I ever seen one. Basically, if you take the guidance the cards offer you, you’ll have a change in whatever it be... You just need to close that chapter in your life you’ve been hanging onto for too long...”

He looked at the cards in his lap, taking in what the girl had told him from just those simple cards. He thought about it for a moment too before he threw the cards beside him.

“You chose those cards.” He scoffed.

“You really think I chose those cards without taking longer?!” She retorted. “The spirits chose them for you. When you say shit like that, you insult their credibility! They get mad and will get you back for it, dumbass.”

Once again, he could tell she was ticked off by her tone of voice in what she said. There was always that suffocating silence that came after that seemed to eat him inside too. Cosimia put the cards on his table, rather aggressively. Without a word, she moved away from him and open her own drawer. He didn’t look at her out of the guilt the silence made him feel. He could hear wrapping paper in her hands before she moved once more to hand him his gift over his shoulder.

“It was my mom’s...” She said. “The tarot cards are too. I hid this from you since the beginning and saved it. I thought you might be interested but maybe not.”

She left the trailer, not even sparing him a lot before she left to go get breakfast. Donghyuck was confused by the interaction. There was bitterness, but also sadness in what she said. He slowly started to rip at the green bow and the orange wrapping paper covered in little cactuses. When the paper was gone, the present was revealed to be a book. The pages were wrinkled, a cafe color with stains in them. It smelled like sweet wood too...

The Complete Book of Magic and Witchcraft by Kathryn Paulson.

He sighed to himself as he slouched even more. Staring at the book in his hands started to make him think... Maybe Cosimia was right about moving on... or the spirits, whatever it or who was. There’s a reason he followed her all the way here...

He set the book down on his bedside table. He promised himself he’d read it later to see what it was exactly all about. He’d gotten ready for the day and walked out to the dining tent everyone was at, at that time of morning. Everyone that wasn’t there for his little surprise earlier was now wishing him a happy birthday which made him blush a bit. When he asked where his friend was, they simply pointed to the smaller blue tent right outside where the cooking was done.

He walked into the tent, the place was crowded with a bunch of people just trying to cook. Luckily, it didn’t take him long to find her in the mess. It was hard to miss the red-headed girl with her hair up in a very messy bun with the blue tent and also the checkered blue apron.

She hadn’t seen him come in as she was too busy mixing something in a bowl. All of it made it that the much easier to sneak up behind her and touch her shoulders. She jumped in shocked before she turned around, ready to hit the boy with the mixing utensil she used. The most it did was get a little batter on him though.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” She muttered. “I was about to slap the shit out of you!”

“Sorry,” He giggled. “I was just wondering... if that breakfast you and Sicheng were gonna make me is still on the table or not?”

She smiled, relaxing a bit from a moment ago, “If you can go find him for me, then yes.”

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

“Wait, Haechan, did you open your present?”

“Uh, yeah... I did. Thank you too.”

“Just so you know, witches aren’t necessarily bad, so don’t be scared.”

He nodded, not taking it much into consideration. After all, he did believe witches were purely fairytale villains and something stupid colonizers made up in their own heads due to fear. Though, he guessed that wasn’t the case once he started to read the book given to him later that evening after his party... They seemed to be very real and not at how people typically thought of them as. He remembered one part in particular; they’re the ones to first read tarot and all and it suddenly made sense to him.

“Cosimia,” He called, noticing she was washing the dishes but turned around anyway. “Was your mom a witch or something?”

“Yeah, she was,” She nodded. “I think she was a green witch to be exact. I remember her loving bunnies a lot and going out to the meadows too.”

“Are you a witch then?” He asked. “Is that how you have your ability?”

“No, not exactly. I don’t practice so I wouldn’t call myself one so I’m just a psychic. I’d probably be one if she stuck around though. I believe she’s the reason I can see the future, prayed to whatever god or goddess that was for. It was like she knew.”

“Goddess?”

“Witches often believe in god and goddess. Greek, Celtic whatever or all of above. Women are especially sacred, if i recall correctly. I don’t remember much, I looked into awhile ago.”

“You could’ve become one without her. It even says I can be one. Didn’t you ever want to follow in her footsteps?”

“I did, for some time. People said I was a lot like her in many ways but I guess not in that... It just wasn’t for me, it was too much.”

“What happened to her?”

“Long story short? She was run off a cliff in Oregon. I think her car is still there too actually... I’ve never seen it though which makes me believe she’s still out there somewhere. It makes wonder why she left me with my dad. I mean, why would she want any of that for me?”

She started to talk in a hushed voice, mostly to herself. It made feel bad about bringing it up in the first place. He couldn’t even make out the words she spoke but he did still wonder what happened to her at the hands of her father. He took a deep breath with his eyes closed while gripping the soft, old pages of book in his hand that was oddly comforting.

“Can I ask what he did to you exactly?” He questioned.

“I think my mom was enough for today,” She mumbled. “But I’ll tell you one day, I promise.”

“I understand,” He nodded. “Whenever you’re comfortable, you can come to me.”

She nodded back with a small smile on her face as a response. It was quiet between them for the rest of evening. Donghyuck even fell asleep on the yellow plaid couch that Kun has given them while Cosimia slept in the back.

His head was laid back on of the arms, prompting a knot in his neck he’d find painful the next day. He seem peaceful there until he started making noises in his sleep that eventually progressed into screams. They were loud enough to be heard from the back room and startle Cosimia out of her slept.

She didn’t seem to waste time running out into the living room. She saw him laying there, still struggling in his slumber with the book in his lap. She rushed over and shook him awake while saying his name. She could feel the sweat on his tan skin as he shot up gasping for air. He looked back to find her there with a concerned look on her face. He just stared into her as he had a hand on her arm that was on him. It was sudden when she sat up and brought him into a hug, even playing with his damp hair to calm him down. He clung to her as she could hear his heart still raced in his chest, faintly.

“What happened?” She murmured.

“Nightmare.” He answered.

“Hmm,” She hummed. “Do you wanna tell me what about?”

“Your father. It was like I was you trying to kill us after he finally found us...”

She seemed to freeze for a moment after he explained it simply to her. She assured him it was just a bad dream before she helped him back to the bed. There was a dream catcher that she had gotten back in Arizona, made by the Navajo around the parts they visited. She had gotten just in case things like this had arose. She hung it above the bed before they went to sleep that night just in case the nightmares wanted to come back. Though, Donghyuck didn’t want to sleep much after that night...

a/n: i’m well aware it’s almost a week after hyuck’s birthday :(( i haven’t had time to write with what’s been going on though but happy late birthday to hyuck!!

[writehardwhumpharder]

The boys decide to play a drinking game with Z2 as their victim, it doesn’t end well.

Disclaimer: These are @deluxewhump OC’s not mine. It takes place in the same universe but it’s not necessarily ‘canon’ and might diverge from the story a bit. Also the characters Brian and Jared I made up just to be side characters, it was easier than calling them frat boy #1 and frat boy #2.

You'd think finals week wouldn't be that big of a deal in a frat house but when that time came at the end of the semester, everything dissolved into chaos. Z noticed a shift in atmosphere immediately. The guys left him alone more, having no time to mess around with him. But when he did see them they were unusually tense and hostile. Z found himself shrinking under their presence. Even Alex and Dominic were irritable with him but he could tell that they were just stressed and tired.

"Bro, since when did you care about political science?" Jared asked.

"Look man, if I don't ace this final I'm gonna fail the whole class and have to retake it." Brian explained.

"So?"

"So college costs money dickwad, now go away, I need to focus."

The frat boy rolled his eyes and left the room, trying to find someone else to drink with no doubt. He almost ran into Z2, forcing Z to jump back and slam into the wall. He glared at him. "Watch where you're going."

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Hey Z, are you out there?" Brian called out from his room having heard them talking. "Come in here."

Z2 entered slowly, coming to stand a few feet away from the desk as he awaited more instructions. Brian shuffled some papers around looking for something in the mess of books, journals, and packets.

"You're gonna help me study," he said, finally finding a stack of notecards hidden under a textbook. "Ok so you read the question on the card and I'll guess the answer which is right below it, see?" Z nodded.

"Wait... can you even read?" He asked suddenly. 

"I don't know... I guess," Z said. It was difficult for him to do but this was a direct request from one of his masters. His training waged an internal battle with him. He was supposed to forget all that and not know anything, it was part of keeping him dependent. But Brian asked him for help so he has to try.

"Guess we'll find out, first question." 

Z2 sat down on the floor next to the bed and looked at the first question. "Um, who is the leader of the house of re-represent..atives," he stumbled over the last word. An internal block in his head throbbed as he said the words but he forced himself to do it.

"Nancy Pelosi."

"Yes," Z2 flipped to the next card, "How many c-cabinets does the president have?" He asked, brows furrowing in confusion. What does it matter how many cabinets there are in the kitchen...? He looked at the answer and a little note written off to the side trying to make sense of it.

"14."

"This says 15," Z responded, a little afraid to contradict him. "There's a note."

"Okay what does it say?" Brian asked.

"15, including the vice president."

"Right, right.. I forgot. Continue."

"What is the order of the presidential line of... s-sus-se...." Z2 tried to sound out the final word. He was completely at a loss for how it should be pronounced or even what it meant. He glanced up to see that Brian was in fact looking down on him like he was a total idiot. 

Z thought he'd been doing pretty well so far but now he just felt like quitting.

"Well what are you waiting for?" He teased. "What's the question?"

"What is the order of-"

"Yeah I got that part," he clipped. "This is bullshit anyway."

Z stared down at the ground in front of him feeling like he'd failed. Can't even read some stupid cards. 

Brian twisted back and forth in his wheely chair deep in thought, "I have an idea that could make this a lot more fun," Brian smiled mischievously. "Let's play a game. Every time you get to a word you can't read you take a drink."  

The door opened wider and the same guy from earlier poked his head in. "Did I hear the word drink?"

"Were you waiting out there the whole time? God, Jared, you're such an alcoholic." Brian said.

"I just happened to be passing by, but, I think I like the sound of this. I'll go grab my biology homework, he won't last the night." Jared laughed.

Brian rubbed at his face with annoyance before conjuring up a bottle of vodka seemingly out of thin air. He set in down in front of Z2 and unscrewed the cap. "Take a sip for the one you already missed."

Z picked it up reluctantly. He hated it when they made him drink. Bringing the bottle to his lips he made a sour face as the foul liquid splashed his throat.

"You call that a sip?" Brian said, tilting the bottle further. More vodka poured into his mouth and Z had no choice but to drink it. When Brian took his hand off the bottle Z2 set it down quickly. The taste made him want to throw it right back up and the burn spread all the way into his lungs. He was still sputtering when Jared came back with his own study materials.

"Where were we?" Brian asked, nodding towards the notecards.

Z picked them back up hastily, looking for the one he had just read. "Uh, line of su-sess.."

"Line of succession," he corrected, "President, Vice president, speaker of the house, president something something of the senate, then the federal department heads." Brian answered. As he said the answer out loud Z matched it up with the words on the card, not really reading them. 

"Hey let's alternate." Jared suggested. Brian didn't look at all happy to share his study buddy, but whatever, alternating questions would just confuse Z2 even more.

"S-sarco… sarc- omer is the..."

Jared made a buzzer noise and slammed a hand down on the floor. "Wrong, drink."

Deep down Z knew that they were doing this on purpose, it didn't really matter if he got it right or wrong. He took a swig of the vodka to get it over with as quickly as possible and continued. There was a brief window of time when the vodka actually made it easier to read. It became more natural, like he was on autopilot. The skills were there… they just weren’t very accessible to him.

"... is the smallest functional unit in what kind of body tissue?"

"Muscle." Jared answered, looking pleased with himself.

This went on for a while until Z2 started having a hard time even seeing the cards. They kept alternating between topics and he found that Brian's questions were a lot easier to read than Jared's. To be fair he was using a bunch of words Z2 had never seen before. Anyone other than a biology student would have a hard time reading them, at best he could sound them out and hope he was right.

Every time he got something wrong they they smiled and laughed at how dumb he was. If he didn't feel so sick Z2 would have drank the vodka willingly just to escape this situation.

He looked back down at the paper swimming in his hands, either the handwriting on these cards was getting sloppier or his vision was getting blurry, probably the latter. He had to open his heavily lidded eyes wide and hold the paper up close to his face. "What is the.. difference between.. mmm" he started to doze off mid sentence. Slurring even the easy parts.

"That counts as a fail, take a drink," Brian said. Z2 eyed the bottle and reached for it with uncoordinated hands. He managed to bring it up to his mouth, taking another sip of the poison. It didn't sting anymore. 

Brian and Jared had been sipping on the vodka as well but not nearly as much as they made Z do. 

"I really.... don wanna drink no more." Z2 said. He knew it was a risk but he had to say something. The more he was forced to drink, the harder the game got, forcing him to drink anymore. It didn’t take long for things to spiral out of control. The frat boys have made him do things like this before but usually it was with something weaker, like beer. This was straight vodka, hard liquor.

"We went over this already Z2, if you don't help me study I'll fail my class. You don't want to be responsible for that do you?" Brian said.

Z2 was so drunk now that he didn't even pick up on the manipulation behind his twisted logic. All he wanted was to please his masters. 

--

When Alex was ready to take a break from studying he got up from his desk and stretched, just now checking the time. It was 2am, he'd been studying for hours straight. No wonder his brain felt like mush. He paced back and forth at the end of his bed a few times to restore circulation and headed out to find Z2. It was best not to leave him alone for too long, you never knew what the other frat boys might do to him.

"Zee zee?" He called out at the top of the staircase where noise traveled the best. No response. It was possible Dominic was sheltering him in his room. "Hey Dom, is Z in there with you?" He asked.

"No." Dom called out from inside.

Z2 had a number of hiding places in the house Alex could look in but usually he responded when he called him. It was arguably the middle of the night, most guys here considered 2am mid afternoon, but it was possible he was just asleep somewhere. He heard talking from one of the other rooms upstairs.

“Hey have you seen…” Alex started as he walked into the room. His face twisted into anger and disgust once he realized what was going on. He had found Z and the boy was on the floor leaning against the wall, slowly listing to one side. Brian and Jared sat around him surrounded by papers and textbooks somehow oblivious to the fact that Z2 was passed out and pale as a sheet. He hadn’t even perked up at the sound of him entering.

“What the fuck is this?” He demanded.

“We were just… studying,” Jared said with a laugh. “You can take him now if you want, he stopped reading the questions a little while ago.”

Alex forced down the panic welling up inside him at the sight of Z2 slumped against the wall with a nearly empty bottle of vodka at his feet. He probably just fell asleep... “Zee, wake up.” He said, leaning over to pat his face gently but as his hand made contact with the boy’s skin he froze. “Why is he so cold? And clammy? Do you guys even realize how dangerous this is?” Brian and Jared looked at each other and shrugged. “Zee, it’s Alex, open your eyes for me.” 

Z2’s head just lolled against the wall giving no indication that he’d heard him. This was bad. If they couldn’t wake him up he might need to go to the hospital but Alex didn’t even know if you could take pets to the hospital. He had to do something, and fast. Alex picked up the boy with ease, carrying him just a few doors down to his own room. Finding his phone on his desk he sent Dominic a frantic text. “My room. Now.” If it was anyone else he would have called an ambulance already or somehow gotten him to the car to take him to the hospital. Alcohol poisoning was no joke. But with Z it wasn’t that simple. It made Alex feel guilty, like deep down he didn’t think Z was worth the trouble.

He got him comfortable on the bed and pulled a blanket up to his shoulders to keep him warm. Then he emptied out the trash can under his desk having a feeling they might be needing it. Dominic skidded into the room a minute later.

“Go get water, and some gatorade!” He ordered. Dominic turned on his heel and rushed to the kitchen.

“Zee zee, you have to stay awake, open your eyes.”

“Hnnnh,” Z groaned.

“Good! Good, now open your eyes,” he told him again. Alex’s voice came to him through a long dark tunnel. He couldn’t really tell what he was saying but some instinct deep inside him compelled him to listen, no matter how difficult. It only felt like a couple seconds but it took him much of the next five minutes to do the simple task of opening his eyes. They were glazed over and unfocused but at least he was somewhat responsive.

Dominic burst through the door again carrying supplies, “Is he okay?”

“No, but he’s waking up a little. If it’s not too late we should try to make him throw up to get some of the alcohol out of his system,” Alex told him.

“Okay how do we do that?” Dom asked,

“Good old-fashioned fingers down the throat I guess. You hold the trash can and get ready.”

Alex sat to one side of him and Dom sat on the other holding the small bin under his chin. Z2 was still very disoriented but he did manage to trail his eyes between the two, making an effort to stay awake despite the warm fuzzy feeling trying to pull him under.

“I’m sorry for this, Zee, but I have to, okay? For your own good,” Alex said. He grimaced then sat him up a little straighter and proceeded to finger the back of his throat. It didn’t take long before Z started gagging from the unpleasant sensation. His body already desperately wanted to throw up but it needed a little help to do it. Dominic made sure he was in a good position the whole time. With gravity on their side there was far less of a chance of him choking. 

“There you go, that’s good,” Dom said as he patted Z’s back in a comforting manner. Alex sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “What?”

“Nothing… it’s just. This is such a dangerous place for him you know? These guys do some of the dumbest shit, it’s amazing they’re here to go to college.”

Z2 heaved over the bin until he had nothing left in his stomach to bring up. It was lucky they got to him when they did because if his body hadn’t managed to purge the insane amount of liquor they made him drink he would have just gotten worse and worse.

“How do you feel, Zee? You still with us?” Dom asked. 

“Mmm,” Z responded. They both sighed in relief knowing that he was listening now. He shivered under the blanket, trying to nestle further into it.

“No, no, you have to stay sitting up.” Alex said. He grabbed the water and gatorade, opting to start with the water then in a little while he could have some of the gatorade for sugar and electrolytes.

Alex brought the bottle to his lips and told him to drink. To his surprise Z turned his head away and shuddered, “I don’t… want to… no.” He said. A single tear fell from one of his eyes. He must think they were still trying to give him vodka.

“It’s water, you need to drink it,” Dom added. Z blinked a few times, willing his eyes to focus on the two boys in front of him. Seeing that they were his friends he started to drink from the water bottle with blind trust. After only a few swallows though he had to stop. Everything was spinning, he felt overheated, any more than that and he’d just lose it again.

“What happened? Who did this?” Dominic asked, taking the bottle of water from Z and setting on the bedside table.

“Brian and Jared, they made some kind of drinking game out of studying I guess. So stupid,” Alex said.

“Stupid,” Z2 echoed.

“What?”

“Wouldna happ’ned if I wasn’t so dumb.. if I could read better. ‘s my fault,” he choked out.

“It is not your fault.” Alex said firmly. He wasn’t there for it but he had no doubt that once Z was drunk enough not to notice they made him drink for no reason at all. They thought it was funny seeing him like that. They thought it was funny to almost kill a person. “I’m gonna go bash their brains in.”

“What? Hold on,” Dom sputtered after Alex’s sudden change of mood. He wanted to follow him but he also didn’t want to leave Z alone so he just watched as Alex stormed out of the room.

He kicked the door in to Brian’s room. The knob scraped across the doorframe from the unnatural motion. Brian jumped up in surprise. He and Jared were still lazing about in his room, making a passive attempt to study.

“Woah. Someone looks mad.” Jared laughed. Alex crossed the room and knocked Jared onto his back. He didn’t even have the words to yell at him. He ended up just sitting there with Jared pinned under him. His chest heaved and his eyes burned with rage. A look of fear crossed over Jared’s face, finally realizing that he was serious and Alex was probably a few seconds away from strangling him.

“Dude stop, that’s enough,” Brian said, tugging at Alex’s sweatshirt.

“Wait your turn, Brian,” Alex spat. Unable to let this go without some kind of punishment, Alex punched him in the face twice. He could have done a lot more damage but violence wasn’t really in his nature.

“Keep hitting him like that and he’ll lose the only two brain cells he has left,” Dom said suddenly from the doorway. “I don’t think we should risk that. Come on, Zee is asking where you went.

“Oh how swe-” Brian didn’t get the change to finish that remark before Alex got up off of Jared and hit him too on his way out. Brian fell back against his bed frame, holding his jaw protectively, looking dumbfounded at what just happened.

They didn’t waste any more time getting back to Alex’s room. Without someone there talking to him Z could fall asleep and he was still in far too bad of shape to take that risk. Z looked so small in the bed tucked under the blankets. He smiled drunkenly when Alex came back to sit on the edge of his bed.

“You should have some gatorade too, and some saltines later,” he said. Z nodded obediently.

Dom stood off to the side awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, “So uh, I really need to get back to studying. My first exam is in less than six hours.”

“Shit, me too. But I don’t know how I’ll focus now. Someone should watch him for a while longer at least.” Alex said.

Z picked up bits of pieces from their conversation making him feel more and more like a burden. He struggled to sit up, his arms didn’t want to cooperate with him. “I’m okay.”

“You are not okay.” Alex said.

“If only there was someone here who already took their tests…” Someone piped up from the hallway. Cam poked his head in as if to respect his privacy before throwing the door the rest of the way open in a grand display of how little he gives a shit.

“You? Took tests?” Dom said skeptically.

“C’s get degrees,” Cam shrugged. “You guys look pretty busy. I’ll take Zee zee here off your hands.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Alex argued.

“What? You don’t trust me? I’ll make sure he drinks his water and eats his crackers. Don’t worry,” He paused to look right at Z2, “I’ll take good care of him.”

[foursideharmony]

Division of Labor

Summary: Creativity was not the first Side to split...

Word Count: 3,673

Relationship(s): Uh...hard to say. None of the characters are fully formed in this.

Warnings: Blood and violence mentions, arguing, proto-Deceit

When Thomas Sanders was very small, he got in trouble for hitting his brother, who was even smaller. They had been playing in the living room on a quiet evening, and Thomas saw movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see little Shea shamble over and start messing with the Spider-Man doll—his Spider-Man doll, that he won fair and square from the crane game in the pizza place while everyone cheered—and so he went over and smacked him. Shea dropped the doll, wailing, and Thomas grabbed it.

Dad saw the whole thing, of course. Oops. And Thomas was made to sit in the time-out chair for four whole minutes in a row and then apologize to Shea, and only then did Dad ask him why.

“That's not a good enough reason to hit someone,” Dad said afterward. “You should never hit. Your mom and I never hit you, even when we're angry, because it's not right. We use the time-out chair instead. Do you understand? It's not right to hit, especially someone smaller than you.”

Thomas did understand. The words right and wrong were frequently said in the Sanders household, so he knew they were important. He picked up the Spider-Man doll and handed it to Shea, who was by that point engrossed in some other toddler activity and simply threw it halfway across the room, but it was the thought that counted.

The next day, Thomas had kindergarten, which was the best now that he was used to being away from Mom and the house all morning. There were so many other kids his age to play with, and picture books to look at, and toys they didn't even have at home. And twice a week they had Arts and Crafts, which was, like, the best of the best! Thomas could never keep the grin off his face when the teacher opened the big cabinet and brought out the stacks of paper and six big jugs of finger paint with the pump spigots.

“Today we're going to do something special,” the teacher said. “We're going to learn how to mix colors with paint! I know you can all name these colors...” And she pointed to each of the six jugs in turn, and the children dutifully named the colors with one voice:

“Red! Blue! Green! Yellow! White! Black!”

“But what if we want more colors than that? What if we want orange? Or purple? Or brown? How would we get them?”

Something went ping! in Thomas's head, and he raised his hand so fast that he felt his shoulder pop a little.

“Yes, Thomas?”

“Red and yellow make orange!” Thomas said breathlessly.

“That's right!” said the teacher. “Good job, Thomas! Everyone take a little bit of red and a little bit of yellow and mix it on your paper!”

Now something in Thomas's head went whummmmmm, because the teacher had just used the same word Dad had used the previous evening.

Right...

Hitting Shea wasn't right. “Red and yellow make orange” was right. But the two...weren't the same, were they? It wasn't bad to mix other paints, trying to get orange. It just wouldn't work. And while hitting Shea had certainly worked to get Spider-Man away from him, it made Dad angry...it made Shea angry, for that matter, and even the memory of it made Thomas feel bad. It was mean.

Thomas had a lot to learn about right and wrong. What they actually meant, for starters.

*****

Whummmmmmm...

In the depths of Thomas Sanders's mind, someone coalesced from the swirls of thought and emotion. He didn't have a defined form just yet, but if an image is required, use this: a boy just Thomas's age, and looking much like Thomas, even wearing the same royal blue overalls over a charcoal gray tee-shirt that Thomas wore that day, but with the important addition of glasses.

Dad wore glasses. So did the teacher. And so, in time, would this fellow, because as of this moment, the moment of his emergence, all he had was his mission: to guide Thomas in the role of both Dad and the teacher. All he knew was his purpose, which was to know everything else, everything he could find out, so that Thomas could be right as much as possible, so that he could say the right things and do the right things.

It was going to require a great deal of thought, so let's call him Thoughtful. Just for now.

As far as he could tell, he was alone. That too would change, and soon.

*****

The general consensus was that Thoughtful was the leader—after all, he was made of grown-ups. He wanted to be a good leader, since that was Right, but he had a problem.

There wasn't much to be the leader of.

It was mostly just him and Pretend, and things were awkward. Thoughtful liked Pretend—he was good company, most of the time—but he didn't get Pretend. Their worlds were so different!

Thoughtful's world was the real world, with real people and their feelings, and real things, and it was reasonably predictable. If Thomas did this, then that would happen. If he did this again, that should happen again...and if some other thing happened instead, it was probably a sign that the this wasn't quite the same the second time around.

Pretend's world was...everything but the real world, it seemed. Pretend made things up. He made up songs sometimes, and those were nice. He made up nicknames for people, and Thoughtful liked those quite a lot, because they usually played with the sounds of words and that made them funny. Pretend also made up stories, and that was where Thoughtful got confused, because telling a story was sort of like explaining something that happened, but the things in the story weren't real. Sometimes they were impossible, and those were Pretend's favorite kind of stories. Thoughtful knew that hitting people was Wrong, but Pretend could make up a story where hitting someone not only wasn't Wrong, it was actually Right, because the one you were hitting was a monster and you were hitting it with a magic sword, and that was the only way to save the villagers.

Thoughtful could agree that, all right, if the only way to save the villagers was to hit a monster with a magic sword, then that would be Right. But that was also the sort of thing that could never ever actually happen.

But Pretend's way of telling stories was better than some mind-people's. For example, there was Worry, who also made up monsters but forgot to include the magic sword. And there was Sneaky, who made up all kinds of things and said that they weren't made up, which offended Thoughtful so much that he could hardly stand it. Sneaky tried to make Thomas lie to other people, which would make him a bad person, and even worse, he tried to make Thomas lie to himself, which would make him a stupid person. No, Thoughtful didn't like Sneaky one bit, and as the leader, he made Sneaky mostly stay in the shadows around the edges of Thomas's mind. Worry hung out there a lot of the time too.

So it was mostly just him and Pretend, but maybe that was for the best. Thoughtful had a lot to do for Thomas as it was, without also having to do leader things all the time. He was busy, busy, busy all morning at kindergarten, helping Thomas learn his ABC's and how to count numbers (up to 50, and then 100! The teacher was very impressed) and how to share the LEGOs. He was busy after kindergarten too, helping Thomas behave for Mom while she ran errands—and that was hard sometimes, because the store was boring and he couldn't carry more than one or two toys and Shea always got the seat in the shopping basket because he was so little. Thoughtful was even busy on Sunday, helping Thomas learn the Ten Commandments and why they were important, and other things like that.

Sometimes he thought he might be too busy. But there was only one of him, so he figured he was stuck with it.

*****

Time passed, as time is wont to do.

*****

“Whatcha drawing there, kiddo?” asked Dad.

“It's my superhero, Splitman!” Thomas explained, holding up the crayoned paper.

“Oh yeah? What does he do?”

“He can split in two and fight two crimes at once! But each half only gets half his powers, so like if there's a plane crash and a bank robbery at the same time, he can be one guy who can fly and be super-strong, and another guy who can zap people with lightning and doesn't get hurt by bullets, and fix both things.”

“Wow! How creative! I bet he'll have all kinds of adventures!” Dad ruffled Thomas's hair and continued to the garage.

How...what?

“Get the dictionary, Thomas,” said Thoughtful. That was always the first place to look for new words, to see what they meant. “No, not K...it sounds like create, so it's probably in the C-words.”

“Did you hear that?” Pretend bubbled. “Dad likes Splitman! I bet everyone will like Splitman! We're gonna sell comic books and make a million dollars and be famous!”

Thoughtful found that unlikely, but didn't contradict him. Instead he said: “But maybe Splitman shouldn't zap bad guys with lightning. They could die, and a good guy should catch the bad guys alive so the police can take them to jail.”

Pretend pulled a face, but it was his “considering” face, not an unhappy one. “Maybe. What if he freezes the bad guys instead? Not in ice, but just, like, they can't move?”

Thomas found the word he was looking for and skimmed its definition. Then he read it more carefully, tracing the bigger words with his fingertip in order to sound them out syllable by syllable. Yeah, that made sense based on what Dad had said. Almost involuntarily, his gaze fell upon the next two words in the book—creatively and creativity, and he read their definitions as well, even though he had a pretty good idea of what they would mean.

“That's me!” Pretend said. “I'm changing my name! I'm Creativity now!”

Thoughtful frowned. “You can't just change your name.”

“Says who? I picked my name in the first place and I can change it if I want. Besides, we're not five anymore and I can do way more than just pretend. Drawing pictures isn't pretending, it's creative!” He flopped down on the sofa and wiggled around until he was hanging his head upside-down over the cushion. “You could change your name too. I bet you're more than just Thoughtful by now.”

More? Thoughtful recoiled from the very notion. If anything, he wished he could be a little less—Thomas was learning new things every day and it was so much to keep track of! If only someone else would show up in the mindscape to help take the slack! But Thomas was seven now, and there were about as many of them as there were going to be unless something drastic happened: Thoughtful himself, and Pre...Creativity, and Worry, and Sneaky, and one or two other shadow-lurkers.

He wondered what might happen if he did change his name. Creativity had changed his because he was changing and the old one didn't fit anymore. But was it possible for that to work the other way around? Could Thoughtful become less by naming himself something less? If so, what would happen to the other parts? Would someone else show up to be those, or would Thomas lose that part of himself?

Better not risk it. But maybe he could test the idea—change his name just a little, and see if his purpose changed at all, and also see what else happened. Then he would know if it was safe to go further.

Just a small, simple change...

And maybe he could improve the grammar while he was at it.

*****

More time passed.

*****

“Now what?” Thoughtfulness snapped. “I don't have time for this! I need to help Thomas study for his science test!”

“That is exactly my point,” said Dishonesty with a smug smile while Anxiety fumed. “Thomas doesn't need to study for the test. He knows everything that's going to be on it. He can draw more pictures instead.”

“What if Mom and Dad come in and catch him not studying?” Anxiety pointed out. “He'll get in trouble!”

“It will be fine, Anxiety. “He can keep the science book next to him and pick it up if he hears anyone coming. Then we'll all be happy.”

“I won't! What if—what if Ms. Feldman put something on the test that Thoughtfulness doesn't remember? Thomas needs to study for real so he isn't caught off guard!”

“But studying is no fuuuuuunnnnn!” Creativity lamented. “And I have this great idea for a picture! Where the knight is killing the dragon and there's all this blood coming out and it's wilting the flowers and there are unicorns crying and—”

“ENOUGH!” Thoughtfulness barked. “Mom and Dad told Thomas to study for the test, and that's what we're going to do! Creativity, your picture will have to wait! And I don't like some of the things you've been imagining lately! All this blood and guts...Thomas is a good kid, and he needs to stay that way!”

“He won't be a kid forever,” Creativity sulked. “Only babies are afraid of a little blood.”

“I'm surprised you're taking Anxiety's side, of all things,” Dishonesty said. “Not what I would expect after what happened between you two yesterday.”

“Anxiety was wrong yesterday,” Thoughtfulness said, causing Anxiety to flinch a little. “Nothing bad was going to happen to Thomas just for asking the lady in the store where the pens and pencils were.”

“...it might've...” Anxiety mumbled.

“I'm just saying that you're not being very consistent,” Dishonesty said.

“Enough, Dishonesty. Go away. In fact, all of you, go to your rooms. Thomas needs to concentrate.”

And so do I, he didn't add. Maybe it was Dishonesty's lingering presence that prompted that little lie of omission, but...whatever. Disputes like these were becoming more common, and Thoughtfulness was finding both his patience and his problem-solving abilities taxed to their limits...on top of which he was still responsible for everything he had always done for Thomas.

I can't keep doing this. It's too much for one Side to handle...but what can I do?

*****

Later that night, while Thomas slept, as Thoughtfulness sorted through the memories he had accumulated during the day, deciding what to keep long-term and what to chuck into the Subconscious, he found himself with company.

“Hi, Thoughtfulness...” Creativity said, singsong.

Thoughtfulness made a non-committal noise; he was focusing on his task.

“I've been thinking about what you said earlier, about my darker ideas?”

“Oh? And...?”

“And...” Creativity took a deep breath. “...you can keep your big mouth shut about it! Thomas's imagination is my job, not yours!”

Thoughtfulness was so shocked that he dropped the memory he was holding into the “keep” bin without looking at it. (It was just the shape of a stain on page 76 of Thomas's science textbook, so no real harm done, but sloppiness always bothered him.) “How dare you!” he retorted.

“You're always saying you have too much to do!” Creativity pointed out. “Well, here's something you can stop doing! Quit trying to control me! Because I'm busy too, and if you have to check everything I do to make sure it meets your 'standards,' neither of us will ever get any rest! Do you want to see all the ideas I had today?”

“Of course I—”

“Here they are! Have fun!” Creativity manifested a stack of paper the size of a phone book, dropped it at Thoughtfulness's feet, and sank out.

Thoughtfulness steeled himself and resolved not to look at the ideas until he was done sorting the memories, but he found himself on the brink of tears. “Too much...” he muttered under his breath, “too much...”

He didn't have to go through all the ideas. But if he didn't, he would just be letting the increasingly erratic Creativity win. He needed to keep things under control, to make sure Thomas remained good and sensible.

He glanced at the top of the pile. It bore a single line of written text: “Make up a song for Aunt Patty's birthday.” That seemed harmless enough. Thoughtfulness dropped the last few trivial memories into the “Subconscious” bin and turned his attention to Creativity's work.

The second idea was radically different from the first: “Make fart noises when Jimmy Zarnecki gives his book report.” Thoughtfulness tore that one up—he didn't like Jimmy Zarnecki any more than Creativity did, but being disruptive in class was a big no-no.

The third one took up half a dozen pages. Thoughtfulness stared at the top drawing for a moment before he recognized the figure portrayed. “Splitman...” he said. “We haven't thought about Splitman in over a year. I wonder...”

Creativity had redesigned the hero's costume with a column of interesting symbols down the middle of his torso. And as Thoughtfulness went through the other pages, he realized what they meant. Each one stood for one of Splitman's powers, and the papers were covered with drawings showing how he could divide himself into different complementary pairs to accomplish various tasks, with the symbols divvied up between the halves of each pair.

Thoughtfulness couldn't speak for the merit of the idea itself, but he thoroughly approved of the organization. And it got him...well, thinking...

Could he split in two? He had always brushed off the idea of it even being possible, but he realized that he had always framed it in terms of duplicating himself. When he contemplated something more like Splitman, it seemed oddly plausible. The rules inside Thomas's mind weren't the same as the rules outside it. They could shapeshift, materialize and dematerialize objects, even teleport. They had superpowers. What was one more?

He manifested a new, blank sheet of paper and a freshly sharpened pencil and began making two lists.

*****

Okay, time to try this thing...

Focus on just half of my job...focus on just the/h/ot/a/the/l/r/f/half

I don't have to be in charge of all of Thomas's insights, just the rat/emot/ion/al ones.

Which half will get the glasses?

NO! I was getting somewhere! Okay, try again and focus...

Just take one big step to the righ/lef/t.

Concentrate on being object/subject/ive.

Y/w/I/e/ou can do this.

Help Thomas know what's R/R/ig/igh/ht!—

SPLIT

*****

Creativity rose up in the commons and did a double-take. “You changed your look. The lighter blue looks good.”

“You don't know the half of it!” the other Side said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I guess you also changed your attitude.”

“Not exactly. Uh...Logic? Can you come here a sec?”

“Who's Log—ah!”

A second bespectacled figure had risen up beside the first. “Will this take long? I was helping Thomas devise a mnemonic for his science test...oh. I see.”

Creativity had taken several steps back. His eyes darted rapidly between the two of them. “Wait...wait...which one of you is Thoughtfulness and which one is new, and who are you?”

“It's a little complicated,” the one in the light blue overalls said a little sheepishly.

“It may very well be accurate to say that we are both new...but also that we are both Thoughtfulness,” said the other, who was dressed in a crisp black polo shirt and dark blue-violet slacks. He adjusted his glasses as he spoke. “The workload had become untenable and so I...we...he...Thoughtfulness divided into two, in order to specialize for greater efficiency.”

“Divided in two? You—we—can do that?”

“It sure looks that way, doesn't it, kiddo?”

“Going forward, I will handle Thomas's logical thinking and intellectual learning, whereas Morality here will be responsible for his emotional intelligence and moral judgments.”

“Hey!” said Morality. “Morality was my father...you can just call me Dad!”

Creativity grimaced. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“Yyyes...I seem to have received all the sense in the equation,” said Logic. “It was largely by design.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were planning to do this?” said Creativity.

“Because we did not exist until it was done,” said Logic. “Lacking existence, we had no ability to tell you.”

“Oh yeah, you'll have to get used to that,” said Morality. “Logic tends to take things literally. Anyway, Creativity, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision when Thoughtfulness saw your new pictures of Splitman. He made a list of everything he does, sorted it into two lists, and then...willed himself into two parts. And now here we are!”

“So Thoughtfulness is...gone?”

“Not precisely.”

“Everything about him is still here, kiddo, it's just not...all together. But this is really for the best. We'll be able to help Thomas a lot better now that there's two of us. And we'll fight with you less since we'll be less stressed out.”

“So...which one of you is the leader?”

Logic and Morality traded a glance. There was an eerie synchrony to their movements, as if they weren't quite completely separate. “We can work that out a little later,” said Morality. “And Anxiety and Dishonesty should be there too. This concerns everyone.”

“Are we done for now?” asked Logic. “Thomas needs me.” Without even waiting for an answer, he sank back out.

“He seems nice,” Creativity muttered, his voice brimming with sarcasm.

Morality sighed. “We'll work on that. And...Creativity?”

“Hmm?”

“Since it's just you and me right now, we need to have us a little talk about some of your ideas...”

Author's Notes: I wrote this to explore a little idea I had about Logan and Patton having been one at some point. It can't have escaped anyone's notice that their logos match—just as Roman's and Remus's do.

Thomas is five in the first part of the story, seven in the middle part, and about nine in the last part.

My headcanon regarding OG Creativity is that he started out mostly like Roman is today. But as Thomas got older and picked up influences from various less wholesome sources, he started indulging in more violent fantasies, gross-out humor, etc., until Thomas (via Patton and probably Virgil) was horrified enough to lock all that stuff away, resulting in the creation of Remus. That's not, by the way, what's about to happen at the end of the story. It's not that bad yet. Morality is going to try to talk Creativity around first.