#i am unable to do this or else i will be banned from contact after finally allowing it

[moeblob]

Chris works in a different room than Right, Brent, and Karen so he just pops in and is like "Karen why does it feel so tense in here and it's dead silent please help me" and Karen is just done with the two guys so she's just "this is my work environment now thanks for noticing".

[cockroachmotherfucker10]

PRIDEFALL UPDATE: real or fake?

What is Pridefall?

Operation Pridefall, also known as Project Pridefall or simply Pridefall, refers to an attack planned by /pol/ (a political discussion board on the anonymous website 4chan) for all of June, AKA Pride month. The original 4chan thread, which has since been deleted, was primarily focused on “redpilling,” i.e. spreading queerphobic propaganda to make people question the LGBTQ+ community. However, now that it has spread outside 4chan, there are threats of harassing, doxxing, and outing queer people (especially minors) on social media, spamming gore and rape videos in private messages and Pride tags, and even kidnapping, assaulting, or killing queer people in real life.

Specific targets include Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and dating apps. The goal is to go after smaller accounts so the queerphobia isn’t lost in the comments.

Is Pridefall real?

Yes and no.

I searched “pridefall” on 4chan last night. Apparently any new threads on it are being deleted, and anytime someone mentions it, everyone calls them slurs and says no one is doing it.

However, Pridefall is gaining some traction on Instagram--I have seen it for myself. I don’t have TikTok or any dating apps, but I’ve heard that some people are spamming homophobia on TikTok. As for Twitter, I only looked briefly, but I saw some Pridefall accounts there, as well as a lot of warnings and blocklists from people who are worried about it.

I’ve also heard that there have been a few Reddit and Discord raids, and that there is an Operation Pridefall Discord server (someone who spied on them says they have been banned on Discord as well as a platform called Riot before, so very few people are left on the Discord server now).

What do you think, Lia?

This is not coming from 4chan. No one on 4chan is interested anymore.

Most likely, people outside of 4chan heard about it and decided to take matters into their own hands.

The original 4chan thread wanted to make Pridefall “normie-palatable” by avoiding Nazi imagery or other overt unpleasantness, but I have seen a LOT of both on Instagram. This reinforces my belief that 4chan isn’t doing this.

A lot of the people behind this are young, or at least unsophisticated. Most of the Pridefall accounts on Instagram engage in very childish trolling, and one of them said they were a minor. Some of the threats I’ve seen are so outlandish that I can only imagine they came from a fairly young person.

My guess? Most of these people are around 13-19.

There are also very few of them and some of them probably have multiple accounts. Anti-Pridefall accounts outnumber them by far.

However, on Instagram I’ve seen Pridefall accounts following each other and commenting on each other’s posts, so there may be a few groups working together.

A lot of this shit is going to get deleted. I know Instagram is working through reports very slowly right now because they have fewer people available due to COVID-19, but most of the worst accounts I saw last night were deleted by this morning. I saw some more accounts deleted today.

Most, if not all, of these Pridefallers are just trying to scare us. Because they’re probably quite young, there’s very few of them, their accounts keep getting deleted, and law enforcement can track online activity, there is no way they have the balls or resources needed to coordinate major attacks.

There is a very, very slight chance this could spill over into real life, but as long as you practice basic online safety, you will be fine.

That being said, if you are threatened or doxxed by a Pridefall account, PLEASE contact the police. Better safe than sorry.

I do think that the threat of being doxxed or outed is more real than the threat of being attacked. I have already seen one Pridefall account who posted a trans boy’s address on Instagram (he is okay, he posted recently) and another who posted someone else’s address.

There is little chance this will last throughout Pride month. Apparently the goal is for Pridefall to worsen until the end of June, but given that this is most likely just some vastly outnumbered teenage trolls who are bored in quarantine, I seriously doubt they’ll be able to stay interested for a whole month.

This might not be as big on Tumblr. Tumblr is a lot more anonymous than, say, Instagram, which will hopefully deter would-be doxxers. It’s also known to be a highly liberal and queer-friendly site, so any Pridefaller with half a brain cell should know that A) their content is sure to be outnumbered and reported (only us Tumblr users know how bad staff is at deleting questionable stuff), and B) anyone with the original goal of “redpilling” is sure to fail here. Plus, I only remember seeing few, if any, mentions of Tumblr on Pridefall planning threads.

Still, expect to see some Pridefall activity here. Unsurprisingly, not all of these Pridefallers have half a brain cell. Some of them will definitely be unable to resist the lure of a community as openly queer as Tumblr, and we’ve all seen or heard about doxxing, harassment, gore, Nazis, and queerphobes on here. Also, 4chan has historically had some beef with Tumblr, so young teenage boys who idolize 4chan may target us for that reason.

How can I stay safe?

If you have any social media accounts where you A) have posted identifying personal information, and B) are openly supportive of the LGBTQ+ community (especially if you’re queer yourself), put them on private for June. Any other accounts are probably fine to stay public.

If you need a private Tumblr, you can make a password-protected secondary account and only share the password with mutuals you trust.

It is probably okay to be openly queer on a private account (e.g. have pronouns/rainbow emojis in your Instagram bio), since a private account is not likely to be doxxed. But if you want to be extra careful, remove queer identifiers from anything that is publicly visible.

Use Pridefall blocklists. They’re all over Instagram and Twitter. I may repost some here.

Report any Pridefall accounts you see. This is VERY important because this is how we can actually get rid of Pridefall content.

DON’T RESPOND TO ANY PRIDEFALLERS WHO PERSONALLY INTERACT WITH YOU. I know it’s tempting to give a snarky reply, but if they message you, comment on your post, etc, just block them. Seriously, don’t feed the trolls. It's exactly what they want.

Make sure your password game is strong. Use a different password for every site (I know, I know, it sucks), and use passwordmeter.com to test their strength. Write them all down on a piece of paper.

Make sure your username game is strong. Don’t use the same username for multiple sites, and avoid putting personal information in your username, such as your name or birthday.

Do NOT open random links!! Pridefallers could message you links that will give you viruses or track your IP address.

Don’t accept DMs or follows from people you don’t know. Pridefall accounts don’t always look like Pridefall accounts. Some of them are undercover.

Use a VPN. This is probably a little overkill unless you’re particularly at risk of being doxxed, but it will hide your IP address.

Be careful who you interact with. A lot of queer people on Instagram are DMing Pridefall accounts or commenting on their posts, but this could make you a target. As helpful as anti-Pridefall accounts are, you might even be targeted for following those.

Be wary of Pride tags. Unfortunately, a lot of Pridefall accounts plan to infiltrate tags commonly used by queer creators during Pride month. Use discretion when looking for queer content.

Be safe IRL. Lock your doors, lock your windows, be aware of your surroundings, don’t walk alone in poorly lit places, know basic self-defense, etc. Again, I absolutely do not think people will be attacked in real life, but you should be doing this shit all the time, not just in June. Thanks to COVID-19, you’re safer inside anyway!!

Make yourself hard to dox. Even though I have a very unusual first name (it's not really Lia), I am extremely hard to find online. I just went into an incognito browser window and searched my first and last name in quotation marks, but I didn’t find myself until page 4 of Google (and that result wasn’t even posted by me). I’m only half as careful as I could be, but here’s some of the things I do:

-I never use a picture of myself as my profile pic, except for Facebook and Instagram, which are both on the highest privacy settings possible.

-If I post identifying information on a public account (my college, my age, etc), I use a pseudonym or my first name only.

-On Instagram, I only use my first name, and I used special characters to type it, so you won’t find me if you search my name.

-On Facebook, I only accept friend requests from people I know. Most, if not all, of my Instagram followers are IRL friends, friends of IRL friends, and trusted Internet friends.

-If I’m really being paranoid, I’ll make a brand-new email account to sign up for a site. That way, my accounts aren’t all linked through one email address.

-Before I post a picture online, I delete the EXIF data with verexif.com, since EXIF data can hold GPS coordinates.

🌈 Stay safe, everyone.

You will not be harmed. You will be okay. Like cockroaches, we are survivors, and we will get through this!! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

-Mod Lia

[creativeashproductions]

What If...? IV // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: 1997 and 1998 are big years for Luke Patterson and his fiancée with their engagement and wedding planning. If you thought wedding planning and the wedding itself was the big things well, you’d be wrong. I mean this is the couple that almost ended with a car accident. Join the year long adventure.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy, minor angst, sweet groom!Luke, and fluff

Words: 3.3k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog. There is one more part after this. 🥺😭

A/N: It’s finally here! The Patterson-Y/L/N wedding makes its appearance here and a little cameo of a future character. The next part is the last part in the miniseries as well. Enjoy.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

Hollywood 1997

An entire year had flown by from the day of your engagement to Luke filled with frustration, elation and greatness. Sunset Curve toured around California, leaving the Y/L/N-Patterson women to plan the wedding. Nineteen years old now in the modestly sized apartment, Luke sat beside you in the bathroom.

Two nervous teenagers a mere month away from their wedding day they cuddled each other eyes pinned at the floor. Apprehensive of the stick that held power to change everything in their lives. For the last week, you hadn’t felt very well with being tired and nausea laying you out in bed.

“It’s been long enough.” Luke murmured reaching for the test, “No matter what. I love you.”

Kissing his cheek, the two of you slumped at the negative with surprising emotion. The negative greatly disappointed you.

“I’m sorry,” Luke mumbled to his fiancée equally torn up because while the timing wasn’t perfect, he had pictured what life would be like.

A tiny baby growing in his fiancée womb, growing into bump made flutters in his belly. Of love, he already felt for your future unborn children and snuggling his kids. Introducing them to his loved ones and bonding over music. Teaching his son or daughter how to play the guitar.

He’d love to see his parents cradle a new addition to the family freshly born with the tiny knit hat Emily couldn’t resist making. Sharing a celebratory beer with his father and wisdom for the coming years. To learn the parental reason of why they had been against his career choice.

“I really wanted it to be positive.” You admitted playing with your fingers disappointed at being wrong about your body. Luke smiled as your words as he grabbed your hand in his calloused grip.

“Do you…do you want to try for a baby?” Luke trailed off flushing at how beautiful you would look growing his child. The bathroom was quiet as you thought the idea over, “With the tour just finishing the band will be writing music and recording. I could be here for the whole pregnancy and birth.”

“If we get pregnant in the next month. But we’re also getting married in a few months.” You sighed leaning to rest about his bare arm staring at the pregnancy test.

“If it happens then it happens.” Luke spoke, “If you want, we can try.”

Raising your eyes to meet Luke’s you hesitantly nodded at his words as it settled that is there ever a perfect time to get pregnant? So many people struggle with conception like your parents did with you; your mother’s labour was so complicated that you’d never have siblings.

“Okay.” Luke breathed, standing up to scoop you into his arms, “Best get on with it.”

The laughter filled the simple bedroom as Luke crawled over your body to hover with a matching smile. There was no one else in the world that could get his heart fluttering and focus on something other than music. It was terrific, and he couldn’t be mad about.

“So, Rockstar…are you gonna help?” You whispered tugging on the chain of his necklace to drag his face closer. Closing the distance, Luke’s lips brushed yours before time stopped in a collision of senses.

The callouses of his fingers trailing a fire under the flowing shirt chosen for the lunch date earlier. The warmth of his hands nowhere close enough to match the heat your body burnt with. The taste of the cherry chapstick he shamelessly stole from you, but it was the heady scent of Luke that got you.

 Luke heavily breathed as he pulled back with a hazy gaze with the green almost overtaken by the black pupils. No hesitation as your lips sucked on his neck, bringing a gravelly moan from the man over you, a sound that caused your lower half to clench. Legs unable to fully close as his fingers drew symbols on your inner thigh.

Symbols that spelt out his full name. Now that was really hot.

A gasp pulled from your throat you arched as a hand came up to cup your breast in his hand; Luke could argue all he wanted, but he was boob man when it came to you.

Thoughts disappearing the ecstasy with the love of your life overtook your senses.

July 1998

The white dress was a little snugger than the previous month, but you had a good reason for it. A tiny little blob had taken up residence in your womb with a sickness that lasts all day from day one until the start of trimester two. Getting pregnant had to be easy with Luke from the number of times.

Didn’t matter where you were when Luke tugged you away. The small bathroom in the studio? Three times.

Luke’s couch? Yeah, Alex refuses to sit there now.

At this point, you had been everywhere, trying for a baby was incredibly fun, but the hormones sucked. Luke’s deft fingers creating the chords of a song? Bobby banned you from rehearsals, and you had an emergency bag of clothes as well.

“You look gorgeous.” Nancy Y/L/N told her daughter with tears glittering in her eyes as she took in the sight of her daughter. The wedding dress the bridesmaids, mother’s and Alex had hunted for; the boy had tagged along as he was like a brother. Reggie, Bobby and Luke had spent the day with Mitch and Lance.

A sob broke from the lips of Lance; his baby girl no longer needed him with her soon to be husband. There was no one in the world he trusted more with his daughter than Luke Patterson. The boy never placed the band ahead of his fiancée, and it was quickly noticed how much Luke adored the Y/L/N girl.

“Dad.” You spoke, rushing to hug the man in your arms, “Stop crying. You’ll make me cry.”

Lance was able to hold his tears until the music started and the doors opened to the venue that Luke’s parents married in. Luke stood at the altar with Bobby, Alex, and Reggie. On the opposite side stood your best friend, a childhood friend and your close cousin.

“You look beautiful,” Dad told you slowly making their way to the man cupping his hands over his face. Overtaken by your beauty and the glow, Luke thanked Lance.

“Baby, you look like an Angel,” Luke whispered, squeezing your hands tightly in his as the ceremony began.

“It’s rare that one can find their soulmate, the other half of themselves on such a large plant. Luke and Y/N orbited each other as young children and fell in love in a perfect place. For those of you who don’t know, these two met as a concert. The first step to falling in love. Music is important to this couple.” The officiant spoke, “Luke’s mother told me once that music tethered their souls together, they truly met at a concert, and every important moment had a song.”

Luke’s eyes watered meeting the brown of his mother’s love-filled eyes holding hands with her husband. Luke had no clue how much his mother came to accept, and he felt the relationship fully fix itself as it settled that his Mom had personally made the ceremony better.

 “These two souls came together and became one. Luke and Y/N’s love is rare and beautiful. Today these two had decided to make their own vows.” The officiant finished, “Luke if you could start.”

“There has always music in my heart and soul since childhood. I adored listening and begging my parents for new music. My parents, one year, gave me a guitar as a gift, and it started a deep passion in my soul. I made a band with my best friends, and the band brought me to a person that would become more important. Y/N, I had had a crush on you for a long time before you first spoke to me. I had hit Reggie in the calf with my father’s car, and you made a joke about my height. It wouldn’t be until years later than I somehow convinced you to take a chance.” Luke squeezed your hands, “I love music because it brought me to you.”

“Luke. I am absolutely positive that I have loved you for more than this lifetime as my love is so vast and deep. I believe we have been destined since the dawn of time to find each other together by music. I can’t compete with your vows because you have a way with words with the songwriting you’ve done. You’ve been there through the hard times and best times holding my hand ready to catch me if I fell. I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives catching each other when we need it.”

“May the rings be presented?” The officiant asked with a smile as your best friend and Alex gave the rings.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Luke whispered as he slid the band to rest against your engagement ring. You repeated the words as you slid the band on his finger as well.

“I now pronounce you as man and wife. Mr. Patterson, you may kiss your wife.” The officiant spoke, sending the room into applause.

You and Luke ran down the aisle still holding hands with the biggest smiles of your entire life to the limo that would deliver you to the reception. Luke couldn’t help himself as he pressed kisses all over. This was a glorious day for the musician, his career was going really well, and he married the most beautiful girl.

“God, I love you.” Luke murmured to the girl in the white dress. Leaning closer for another kiss, Luke froze.

Digging into his ankle was a heavy object. Your nervous eyes glittered under the dimmed lighting in the limo. Never-ending eye contact Luke lifted a moderately heavy wooden chalkboard. Written on the sign was: ‘Unofficial flower girl or ring bearer’.

“Are you serious?” Luke asked gobsmacked at the news that heightened the greatness of his wedding day. Eyes flickering to meet yours he watched as your hand unzipped a hidden pocket on your dress.

Flat on your hand was a pregnancy test similar to the one you took months back. The only difference being this one had two lines.

“AS serious as a heart attack. There will be a baby Patterson in six months.” The laugh was joyful as your lips parted.

Luke wasted absolutely no time in setting his hand on the slight bump the dress had covered, “This is why you mentioned your dress being snugger?”

“Mhm.” You replied, stroking the softness of his cheekbone in pure love with him and the life you carried, “We’re in for a wild ride Patterson.”

“Bring it on.” Luke finished kissing your cheek as the limo came to a stop in front of a large venue. The duo you ran inside where your wedding guests threw paper airplanes that Reggie had suggested.

Each airplane had a personal note from your friends and family along that would be gathered into a binder. Reggie had found out that rice wasn’t good for birds and while the reception was inside, he couldn’t do it. So, he brought the idea of paper airplanes; in class, the boys would throw airplanes at each other. It was a nod to their adolescence.

“I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Patterson,” Alex announced into the microphone set on the stage with Sunset Curve’s instruments. It didn’t surprise anyone that the band would play at the wedding.

On the stage, a beautiful Hispanic woman played a soft piano ballad, if you could recall that maybe the bartender from the Orpheum. Her name was on the tip of your tongue as Luke twirled you into his arms with a big grin.

“Mrs. Patterson.” You hummed tugging him to the head table with where your wedding party would join as well. The second Luke helped you sit he knelt down to reach the box covertly placed.

Your eyebrows came together as he opened it, revealing two matching pairs of personalized vans; following the wedding theme one pair was white and another black. On the right shoe, it had ‘just married’ with the wedding date while the left shoe had a picture from your engagement pictures. Of course, Luke made them have Mr. and Mrs. above the image as well.

“How?” You breathed as Luke gently removed your heels to replace them with a thin pair of no-show socks. Over the socks went the white vans that gave your feet a break from the four-inch heels.

“We’re supposed to party now.” Luke beamed squeezing your hands in his only bending to kiss the back of each. His hazel eyes had shifted to a rich green as he stared up at yours with such a tender look, you could feel the heat building in your cheeks.

As your wedding party took their seats, Luke had already changed his shoes and pushed the box back under the table. His left hand refused to leave your right one as you both took in the magical room that had once only been a concept on paper.

“This is amazing.” You breathed leaning into Luke’s arm, sending a smile to the table near the front with both your parents, “Also thank you for the shoe surprise.”

 “I am so happy they got done on time.” Luke sighed slouching in his seat, waving at the photographer you had hired.

If you can recall correctly, Luke had met him at a band photoshoot, and he was the assistant to the head photographer. You believe his name was Ray and incredibly talented and under-appreciated by his former boss.

“Did you let the photographer know we have an open bar?” You leaned over to your new husband with a flutter in your belly at his new title. The question turned the corners of Luke’s mouth for the first time that day.

“I find it unfair that we have an open bar and we can’t drink anything.” Luke snorted nudging Reggie in his side.

“Oh, I think we both know you’ll sneak some for the guys and you.” You chuckled leaning back in the chair. One hand resting on your stomach to caress the material with your thumb, unaware, “I’ll stick to the sparkling juice.”

Luke’s one eyebrow raised at the sudden change in your drink choice as in the past you wouldn’t turn down your favourite. His eyes shifted down to your hand with raised eyebrows.

“Wait…are you…?” Luke drawled out slowly in your ear taken aback when your head in a surreptitious manner. His jaw unhinged mind opened as he took in the tiny bump; in the years together, he was very acquainted with your body.

“We are. How cliché are we?” You laughed as Luke lunged to press a kiss to the supple skin lightly painted with foundation.

Your makeup was natural and straightforward to last longer for photos and make it through the dances for later. It was also Luke’s favourite look.

Dinner, the dances and speeches had sped by ending with both the bouquet toss and the garter toss. The guests mingled with the newlyweds as some danced, Emily had managed to drag Luke back on the floor.

“I’m proud of you, Luke.” Emily smiled up at her son, “And you said those dance lessons were a waste of time.”

A light pink flush took over the nineteen-year old’s full cheeks reminiscing the lessons he had taken with his mother. He had been eleven or twelve at the time when his father pulled a muscle at the worst time. The coupons nearly expiration Emily took Luke to the lessons that initially had been for date night.

“I think it helped with singing-“Luke instinctively cut himself off as he had done years before when music was a no go subject, “Sorry you don-“

“Luke, I can never explain how sorry I am about what happened. I was wrong to push you into a box you didn’t fit. Music is a part of you, and I understand now.” Emily squeezed the bicep of the guitarist, “Besides you’ll understand where we were coming from in a couple months.”

Luke’s jaw dropped at her announcement, “What.”

“Luke, I am a mother. I know the signs such as your wife turning down the wine.” Emily admitted stepping back from the boy that had so suddenly become a man before her very eyes.

No longer was he the chubby-cheeked boy running naked from his bath after splattering spaghetti sauce on himself. He had outgrown his interest in soccer and baseball with his little friends. He had matured into a man that lived up to Emily’s teachings. Luke, in her eyes, was now a man of honour, integrity, kindness and stood up for himself.

Emily and Mitch Patterson had done a fantastic job raising their son, but now they could step back. They would get to watch Luke find his way as a husband and a father.

“Hey, man,” Reggie spoke as Luke walked off the dance floor finding you among family congratulating the couple.

“Hey, Reg.” Luke beamed tugging the bassist into his arms for a tight hug. As the two boys leaned back, they looked over at their friend.

Alex discarded the pink suit jacket at the table in favour of leaning against the wall talking with the bartender. A smile blossomed on the two men’s faces as they took in that Alex was utterly relaxed in the conversation.

“They were hardcore flirting.” Reggie piped up, referencing the male bartender, “His name is Billy, I think.”

The bartender had shoulder-length dark hair pulled back in a bun with glittering brown eyes drowning in the shy blonde. He wore a dark shirt opened a few buttons with white detailing on it. A white necklace as well, but it was the lovesick smile Luke loved; Alex deserved happiness the most in Sunset Curve.

“He’s totally a skater.” Reggie spoke, “It’s a love story. He’s a skater boy, and he’d like to do ballet.”

“That would be a sick song. He was a punk, she did ballet.” Luke hummed to a melody created on the spot, “Not really our sound.”

“Someone will figure out a way to use it.” Reggie waved off, and he was right. A singer would use the exact lyric in her song ‘Sk8er Boi’ in 2002 when Sunset Curve would bump into her.

Slowly the boys of Sunset Curve found their way to the stage to perform a few songs directed towards you. At your urging, you had demanded they give a live performance of Unsaid Emily for your now mother-in-law. As they sang, you wrapped an arm, Emily, as she cried.

“This is his best work.” You mumbled to the older woman cupping her wet cheek leaning into the touch of her husband’s touch.

As soon as the song was over, Emily yanked her son into her arms both parties of the hug emotionally moved. It seemed the performance had shifted something in their relationship for the better. Luke didn’t need to explain as he pulled you into his side once more.

 “Alex isn’t the only one that found someone.” You whispered, finding Alex and the bartender on break dancing on the edge of the dance floor. At your husband’s puzzlement, your finger pointed in the direction of the stage.

In a conversation photographer, Ray captivated the lead singer of the band you had hired when Sunset Curve didn’t play. Even Reggie seemed to have the attention of your twin showgirl cousins from Las Vegas.

“Love attracts love.” Luke simply spoke, wrapping his built arms around his wife, thinking back on the changes that had happened.

Luke hitting Reggie’s leg with the car at thirteen, finding each other at the concert a few years later, the accident that threatened the relationship. Proposing twice and finally marrying over a year later on the same day you confessed the pregnancy. So much had happened in such a fraction of time.

“I love you.” Luke murmured at the shell of your ear watching his friends have the time of their lives on a beautiful day in the summer of 1998.

Above are the example of the shoes that Luke got.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 9

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 9

Chapter Summary: What happens when a busy schedule leaves you lonely?

Rating: 18+

Chapters:  {Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8}

It had been weeks since Faye had seen Henry outside of work. Henry's schedule was packed with choreography practice, training, filming and hush hush phone and zoom interviews he refused to tell Faye anything about. She was starting to get the feeling he had given up on her and was moving on. Why else would he refuse to tell her anything about this 'project' he was working on? Not a single clue was dropped. He continuously sited 'not wanting to jinx it' as his reasoning for not telling her. She was banned from his house for the last three weeks, finding herself right back where this had all started. Could it even be called a relationship? They had never agreed to be exclusive or anything, so it wasn't like she could lay some sort of claim on the man. It seemed he was drifting further and further away with every passing day.

Briar was taking it harder than her mother was. He was the first male presence outside of her grandfather and uncle she regularly had contact with. To say she had quickly become attached was an understatement. One particularly heartbreaking evening, she had convinced herself he would be coming over and bringing "Princess Kal" as she had dubbed the poor canine. She sat by the front window, clutching her stuffed bunny stubbornly until far after her bedtime, finally breaking down into hysterical sobs when she realized he really wasn't coming. Faye's texts to Henry about the child's expectations went unanswered.

A few days ago, Mrs. Anderson was unable to babysit, leaving Faye no choice but to either call in sick, or bring her daughter with her to work. Last time hadn't caused much of a problem, so hopefully she would be able to get away with it again. Just as long as it didn't become a habit, it wouldn't be a problem, right? It really wasn't, either. For the first hour or so, the child sat in the corner of the makeup trailer, mesmerized by the movie playing on her tablet. Faye had breezed through the battle wounds on some dwarves and applied the prosthetic ears on the elves in that time, her daughter calmly tucked away the entire time.

Then came time for Henry to get into the makeup chair. The second he stepped foot into the trailer, Briar had latched herself onto his legs, sobbing and clutching his pant leg like her little life depended on it. To say Henry panicked would be an understatement.

"I told you she missed you." Faye shrugged. In fact, she had mentioned several times how Briar kept asking about him. It was a bit of a wakeup call as far as her dating life was destined to go. If Henry was only around for a few months and Briar had attached herself so firmly to him, what would happen if Faye actually dated someone and spent even more time with him? Briar would be devastated if it didn't work out.

"I'm so sorry, princess." Henry soothed, detaching the toddler from his leg and scooping her up, letting her continue to cry into his neck. "I've been busy, I wasn't trying to make you sad." He assured, sitting in the makeup chair with the little girl still clinging to his shirt.

Faye may have failed to mention the multiple meltdowns she'd had to endure due to his sudden absence, but why should she bother the man with it? It's not like it was his job to pacify her daughter. She just wished the little girl hadn't grown so attached to him in the short time she had known him.

Briar completely refused to be apart from Henry for the rest of the day, perching herself in his chair while he filmed, staring intently at him as she clutched her bunny to her chest, whimpering unsurely the first few takes of a particularly rough fight sequence. Thankfully, she had calmed quickly, Faye explaining to the little girl that he was just playing pretend and wasn't going to get hurt.

She had reattached herself to him the second he drew too close, practically climbing him like a monkey to cling to his neck again. Faye was past the point of trying to stop her by then. She had been the one dealing with it ever since he had decided to vacate the little girl's life. At least now he could see first hand why Faye had been so irritable with him lately.

He vowed to Facetime later that night to say goodnight to the little girl when he had strapped her into her car seat that evening, the child unwilling to let her mother take her to the car by herself. His promise didn't stop her from sobbing the whole way home. The poor girl cried herself out by the time Faye had pulled into the driveway, half asleep all the way through dinner, ultimately passing out at the table, a forkful of pasta clutched in her chubby fist.

To his credit, Henry had called later that night, well after Briar's bedtime. Again, he apologized profusely for his insane schedule in the voicemail he had left. Faye wasn't in the mood to talk anymore, too drained from her daughter's most recent meltdown.

Now, here he stood at her doorstep five days later, his shoulders slumped in defeat and a pleading look on his face as Faye blocked his entry into her home with her tiny body.

"Can I help you?" Faye asked calmly, crossing her arms and leaning against her door frame.

"Faye, please, can we talk?"

"What's there to talk about?" Faye brushed him off, fixing him with a cold look.

"You're avoiding me."

"Excuse the fuck out of you?" Faye hissed, stalking toward him and shutting the door harshly behind herself. "I'm avoiding you? Are you seriously going to pretend the last three weeks never happened? One second, you're around all the time, the next I only see you at work. You dodge my calls, refuse to see me and break my three year old daughter down into hysteria thinking she did something wrong. Please, go on, tell me how I'm the one avoiding jack shit here!"

"I deserve that." Henry sighed, roughly shoving a hand through his untamed curls.

"Goddamn right you do." Faye hissed, fury burning intensely in her usually wide, innocent brown eyes.

"Please, Faye. Can you hear me out?"

"What's there to talk about? You got bored and you left me behind. I don't want your fucking excuses."

"I promise, I wasn't trying to avoid you, and I didn't get bored of you!" Henry growled, anger taking over his once apologetic face at her accusations.

"Then what the hell is it? Please, tell me why I should be okay with only being in your life when it's convenient to you."

"I've been busy, Faye! My life doesn't revolve around you!" Faye's entire body tensed at his outburst, returning his fiery gaze with a cold stare.  

"And mine doesn't revolve around you either, Mr. Cavill. If you don't have time for us, that's fine. I understand we aren't a priority for you. You've made that much clear. That doesn't mean I have to be at your beck and call whenever you can fit me in. I have my own life. I have a daughter to take care of, and I don't need you breaking her heart every time you can't spare a goddamn second for her."

"I wasn't trying to hurt her. I wasn't trying to push you away." Henry seethed. "You think I enjoyed being away for this long? You think I liked not spending time with you?"

"You make time for the things that matter, Mr. Cavill. Clearly, that's not us." Faye replied, her calm tone slashing through Henry's heart worse than any previous rage or hostility could. These were not words created by anger and meant to hurt him in the heat of the moment. This was coming from a detached, practical place in her mind. This was something she had thought about, long and hard.

"Faye." Henry sighed, his tense shoulders falling in defeat. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt Briar. The time I've spent with you two these last few months have been the happiest I've been in years. I understand if you don't want to see me, but I really wish you would. I... damnit, I fucking need you two." He admitted shakily, his eyes falling to Faye's feet, taking notice of the black ink covering the top of her right foot for the first time. Had he really paid so little attention that he hadn't even noticed that? Was he really that detached from something that brought him so much unconditional joy?

"And what am I supposed to do when you vanish again? It's the life you live, Mr. Cavill-"

"Henry. Please, call me Henry." He pleaded softly, each utterance of the removed name feeling like a knife to his heart.

"You aren't tied down to one place. You travel all the time. Why should I let you continue hurting us? What promise can you possibly give us that you won't just leave again?"

"I never left, I've been right here." Henry whispered, unsure hands coming to rest on her hips, slowly lowering his forehead to rest against hers. He had no idea when they had gotten so close during their argument, but he had to admit, it felt good to hold her again. "Please. I promise, I won't vanish again. If I can't be here in person, I'll call, I'll Facetime, I'll send video messages, I'll text. I will do anything and everything I can to be here for you."

"Then what happens when you find someone else?" Faye countered, remaining stiff in his hold, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, subconsciously trying to block him out and build a wall between them.

"I'm not looking for anyone else." Henry assured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

"Doesn't mean you won't find her."

"Then this mystery woman can sod off. I'm not interested." Henry hummed, pulling Faye closer to wrap his arms around her, resting his cheek atop her head, her tension slowly fading away with his embrace. "Can you forgive me for being an ass?" He asked hopefully, peppering the top of her head with kisses.

"This time. There won't be a next time. I don't have time to invest in someone that won't make any time for me."

"I promise, I will make time for you two." Henry vowed, reluctantly taking a step back to look into her face. "Would it be too much to ask to come inside? I sure could use one of Briar's special cups of tea."

"Mmm, you might be out of luck then. She's decided she wants to be a knight instead now." Faye informed him, slipping away from his desperately clutching hands to push the door open, Briar freezing in the middle of charging through the house on her hobby horse, sword in hand when she saw the man standing outside.

"You're back?!" She gasped, dropping her toys and bolting past her mother, Henry catching her as she rushed him, hoisting her into his arms and letting the little girl sling her arms around his thick neck. "I sorry... I be good." She sniffled, her chubby hands gripping his collar tightly.

"Oh, sweetie. Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." Henry soothed, rubbing her back softly. "I was the one that was naughty, can you forgive me for being mean to you and your mommy?"

"Don't go." Briar whimpered, burrowing further into his neck, her sobs only increasing at his apology.

"I won't, I won't." Henry promised, smoothing down her wild, uncombed hair, looking fearfully up at the child's mother. Was this what she had been dealing with since he had been away?

"She got it in her head you were mad at her, and that's why you weren't coming around anymore." Faye explained, nodding him inside.

"I'm so sorry." Henry repeated, holding the toddler a little tighter as he slid past her mother, perching himself on the arm of the couch as she sobbed into his neck.

"You understand why I'm not too keen on second chances?" Faye sighed, locking the door behind herself. "I'm not going to keep putting her though this. I don't expect you to change your lifestyle, so when we fall to the backburner again, please, do me a favor and stay gone. It's not fair to her."

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I truly have been busy."

"I know. That's your life." Faye shrugged, leaning against the archway to the living room.

"What can I do to make it up?"

"You can't. You just have to understand that this is the last time I will allow this to happen. If you get too busy for us again, I won't open the door the next time you come knocking." Faye's declaration hung in the air, the sureness of her voice leaving no room for argument or further exchange of words. A desperate sort of silence befell the two adults, the only noise in the house being made by the small girl in Henry's arms.

Briar's sobs slowly gave way to small sniffles and hiccups, her tiny hands refusing to release his shirt, unashamedly wiping her nose on the fabric. Henry was the one to finally break the suffocating silence that had taken over the room.

"Could I ask for your help with something?"

"What might that be, Mr. Cavill?"

"Please, Faye. Henry. Call me Henry, or anything else really. I didn't mean to hurt you or set us back months. Call me any number of mean names, just... not that." Henry pleaded, resting his head against Briar's.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need to shave my head." Henry sighed after a long moment, turning sad eyes up to her.

"You want me to shave your head?"

"You're the only one I trust to do it right now."

"You literally have a hairstylist on set."

"This is different." Henry insisted.

"How is this different?"

"Believe it or not, I like my hair. Shaving it off isn't exactly a fun time for me."

"Is the tape getting to painful to remove?" Faye asked, raising an inquisitive brow.

"I mean, it will be a plus not having to deal with that for a while, but no. I... I have a screen test in a few days. Over zoom, but a screen test none the less."

"Oh, congrats."

"But the role calls for a military style cut." Henry continued. "Which means it all has to go."

"What role is it for?" Faye asked, crossing the room to run her fingers through his unruly curls.

"Mass Effect." Henry divulged, leaning into her touch.

"So you showed up for a haircut?" Faye asked, detangling his hair with her fingers.

"I showed up because I missed you, but it made me realize you're the only one I'm comfortable with doing it. I've been dreading it for over a week now."

"I only have scissors here. The best I can do is a hack job." Faye informed, continuing to play with his hair absently. It was so soft when he didn't try to tame it. The products that kept it in check, looking so neat and orderly, always made it stiff and crunchy. His natural hair was a thing of beauty.

"I have clippers back at my house. You're both more than welcome to stay the night."

"You know Briar won't stay in the guest room." Faye sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm fairly certain I'm not in good enough standing with you for us to be doing anything that young eyes shouldn't see." Henry chuckled, looking hopefully up at the woman gently running her nails over his scalp.

"You are not." Faye confirmed around a giggle of her own, playfully tugging at his hair.

"Easy, love, the baby is right here." Henry lightheartedly scolded, raising his brow at her.

"You should have mentioned you enjoyed that sooner. No time to take advantage of it before I chop it all off now." Faye sighed, reluctantly letting her hand fall away, Henry reaching out to pull her closer, looking up at her hopefully.

"What are the odds I can talk you out of a kiss?" He asked, staring longingly at her mouth. Faye smirked and rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, leaning down to allow him to press a slow, affectionate kiss to her lips, reluctantly pulling back when Briar began to stir from her crying fueled power nap against his neck. "There you are, sleepy head." Henry chuckled, easing the child down to his lap instead.

"You here?" Briar asked, rubbing her still red eyes, staring up at him with a wobbly lower lip.

"I'm here. Would it be ok if you and Mommy stay at my house tonight?" Henry asked, wiping away the dried tears from her face.

"I bring Bunny?" She asked, her face finally splitting into a grin when Henry agreed to her request.  

"You go get Bunny, I'll pack you a few things." Faye instructed, Henry reluctantly setting the girl down so she could do as her mother asked.

"Thank you, so much." Henry sighed, pulling the tiny woman against his large frame, dropping his head to rest against the top of her chest.

"For letting you use my tits as a pillow?" Faye teased, running her fingers through his hair again, wanting to memorize the feel of his curls before she had to chop them all off.

"Secuititty." Henry chuckled, pulling her in to straddle his hips, needing to be even closer to her. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

"Try not to blow it."

"I'll do my absolute best."  

@Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

[theimprobabledreamersworld]

A Time of Magic

Merlin AU

I got really excited about writing this after getting so many great ideas from people! So I spent most of today on it :) I will make it clear now; some parts will follow how it went in canon, some parts will be similar to how it went in the show and other things I will be deviating from completely <3

Taglist: I’ll do my 'general writing taglist for now' but if you would like to be tagged (or not tagged if you have been) then please let me know via dm, asks or comments/tags! 😊💜

@psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @lost-in-thought-20 @red-imeanblue @writerwithtoomanyships

Summary:  “No one can know their destiny, no matter how grand that destiny might be. No one can truly comprehend how they wind up in the vast, complex tapestry of life. He cannot glimpse into the future of his great story. He will have to allow it to unwind for itself. Our young warlock must live to follow his destiny, and learn how to survive in a harsh world. His name… Virgil.”

Tags for this chapter: OC death, (not graphic in any way) description of execution, brief mention of a weapon, alternative universe (Merlin and human AU) 

Word count: 2,818

Read on Ao3!

Chapter 1: Into the Realm of Camelot.

“No one can know their destiny, no matter how grand that destiny might be. No one can truly comprehend how they wind up in the vast, complex tapestry of life. He cannot glimpse into the future of his great story. He will have to allow it to unwind for itself. Our young warlock must live to follow his destiny, and learn how to survive in a harsh world. His name… Virgil.”

The young man scrambled up the sandy hill and laughed when the grass brushed under his legs. He looked behind him at the vast expanse he had left behind. The blue and grey hues of the Brighsonee Mountain that would usually loom above him every day now seemed significantly smaller, for the first time in his life, he could actually see the dusting of snow that covered the sharp peaks.

This was the beginning of a new start.

He looked into the distance and saw the last wooden house of village he had called home for the last twenty years. The feeling of sadness threatened to overwhelm him, but he couldn’t go back now even if he wanted to. Home was no longer safe, and he couldn’t put his mother through any more heartache. If he hadn’t been so reckless, he wouldn’t have been forced to leave his mother behind to fix his mistakes. He felt his eyes fill with tears at the thought, but he shook his head and violently wiped away the one tear that made its way down his face. There was no point looking back, he had to move forward.

“You must go to Camelot and find Logan. He will help you and protect you.” He listened to his mother’s words that echoed in his mind. He could feel the daunting pressure of the rising sun push him forward, with one final look at his past. He adjusted the bag on his back full of his meagre possessions and walked down the other side of the hill.

As he continued to walk for another two hours, he found himself in a wild forest. The path would come and go continuously, and he found himself fighting through trees while getting his dark brown jacket tangled in branches. He finally found the path again and stopped to remove a sharp stone that had somehow got in his shoe before freezing in awe at the sight in front of him. As he looked through another set of trees, he could see the walls of Camelot. It was clear to Virgil now why Camelot had been deemed the most powerful kingdom in the entire realm. He picked up the shoe that he dropped in surprise and put it back on his foot before moving swiftly along the path with a new-found burst of energy.

Virgil was so eager, but also anxious, to reach the town that he almost collided with a knight on his horse. The knight nodded politely as Virgil moved out of the way, his bright red cloak with the golden insignia of the dragon billowing behind him. At least Virgil could be reassured that he was definitely go the correct way. The sun began to beam brighter as the trees lessened. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the town somewhere in front of him, so he ran towards the noise. Virgil stopped just before the cobbled path of the town and took in the new surroundings, he was intimidated by how busy everything was. He knew it would be more chaotic than his miniscule village, but this was something else entirely. The main part to dominate his attention completely was the castle that towered over the town, just like the Brighsonee Mountain at his village.

A multitude of lean, square towers dominate the skyline of the castle and were connected by extremely tall, thin walls made of dark brown stone. Virgil was unable to count sheer volume of flags that fluttered in the breeze all around the castle. Small windows decorated are scattered generously across the walls in an asymmetric pattern, some decorated in stained glass, some left as they were to let the light in. He could also see symmetric crenelations for archers and artillery, that was a reassurance that Camelot was protected. Statues of kings were lined up outside of the castle gates, serving as reminders of the past. This castle had stood the test of time and despite knowing some very rough wars and battles, the castle still stood. It looked like it will do so for many years to come.

As he was accidentally pushed to the side by a townsman carrying goods on his back, he knew it was time to take the first step into his new home. He brushed off his torn purple shirt, then adjusted his classic red neckerchief before taking a deep breath and walking into the town. He smiled as he saw small children giggling and chasing each other through the crowded street. He watched as men and women wandered around the market stalls, Virgil couldn’t help but be fascinated by the food and jewellery stalls he passed. His stomach rumbled and it reminded him that he really needed to eat the food his mother packed for him, but that could wait. Right now, he really needed to find Logan. He caught a glimpse of the familiar red cape of a passing knight and followed him in the right direction of the castle entrance.

There were plenty of people walking in and out of the castle at a rapid pace, smiling as they went about their business and Virgil smiled back politely. As he walked over the drawbridge and caught a glimpse of the water in the moat, he had to admit to himself that he was pleasantly surprised. Part of him was expecting for the castle to be closed off and daunting considering how it looks from a distance, but the fact that it was so welcoming made him feel much more assured that he would be okay here after all.

He saw a significantly large group of people standing in the middle of the castle grounds and he excitedly raced over to see what had everybody so excited. They were standing around a square that had been cordoned off by rope, everybody was desperately trying to make sure they could see the spectacle. Virgil could just about make out a small stage with a block in the middle surrounded by a variety of weapons. There were guards to keep everyone from moving any closer and he saw one more man wearing a black mask over his face standing in the middle of the stage. Virgil was confused, why was there so much protection for a magic show? Before he could think about it any further, he jumped as two guards with bugles began to play a mournful fanfare. A man wearing a golden crown with a burgundy cloak stepped out onto the balcony high up in the castle, Virgil made a note that this must be a member of the royal family, most likely the King. It would explain the gold jewellery around his neck anyway. The serious expression on his face made Virgil tense up. He nodded and another set of guards played large drums at a slow marching pace while a townsman was dragged out into the courtyard wearing heavy chains. ‘This is going to be one intense show.’ Virgil thought.

As the man finally reached the stage with an incredibly morbid expression on his face, the crowd began to mutter excitedly before turning towards the balcony. Virgil followed suit as a loud, authoritative voice boomed out across the courtyard.

“Let this be a lesson to all who reside in Camelot. This man, Peter Robert Sclator has been judged as guilty.” There was a substantial pause, and Virgil took the opportunity to glance at the man before furrowing his brow.

‘Guilty?’ He looked around and saw people bowing their heads and nodding slowly, it started to dawn on him. Maybe this wasn’t a magic show after all. His heart began to fill with dread as the voice began to fill the courtyard once more.

“He is guilty of conspiracy. Conspiracy of using enchantments… and magic.” Virgil’s eyes widened with fear at the sheer distain in the King’s voice as he practically spat out the word magic. The way he gritted his teeth made every word much more sinister. Gasps filled the silence after his words reverberated around the walls. The man was desperately trying to make eye contact with people he must have known in the crowd, but everyone avoided his gaze. Virgil felt his heart beat rapidly, he wished he wasn’t so curious. He shouldn’t be standing here watching this, but if he left now, would he look guilty? If someone could be punished for conspiracy… what would happen to someone like him? He gulped as he trembled waiting for the next declaration to be made.

“In accordance with the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that these types of practices are banned… on penalty of death. I ensure that I am a fair and just ruler. For the crime of sorcery. This is the only sentence that will be passed.” The crowd were ushered into silence and Virgil had to grip tightly onto the handles of his bag so he didn’t gasp or draw attention to himself. Now the man bowed his head, completely resigned to his fate. Virgil didn’t understand, why didn’t he call out? Swear that he was only using his magic for good? He looked around as subtly as he could, and couldn’t believe that no one was standing up for this man, he must have friends… a family. He glanced up and saw one of the castle windows open slowly, someone looked out to the courtyard. Virgil couldn’t help but notice the overwhelming sadness on the young man’s face, almost pitying the situation as much as Virgil did.

As the man was dragged to the stage and pushed down to the block. It finally dawned on Virgil that this was real. This was how life was going to be in Camelot, and the thought petrified him. The drumbeat began to speed up and Uther slowly raised his hand into the air. He couldn’t watch so he focused on the ground, and winced when he heard the axe swoosh into the air before the inevitable groan of everyone who decided to watch the man’s fate. Virgil forced himself to look up and he saw the man in the window; the disgust, pity and rage on his face was palpable and his eyes looked like daggers aimed squarely at Uther’s head. Everyone slowly began to gather their things and walk away from the display, but Uther stopped the people in their tracks. Virgil was desperate to run, but again, the fear of looking guilty plagued his mind. Despite how disgusted he felt, he knew that he was compelled to stay.

“When I first arrived in Camelot. The kingdom was consumed with chaos. It was only thanks to the bravery of the people, that we were able to rise up and be free from the evil of magic. So I wish to declare a festival. Tomorrow marks twenty years since we captured the Great Dragon. Let us celebrate this joyous occasion.”

Virgil’s head began to spin as he saw the smug look on Uther’s face as he raised his arms above his head in pride. How could he look so proud after what he had just done? Magic was a source of good. There had been bad events though, there was no doubting that. If it was harnessed by a corrupted person, that was the only way magic could be evil… He didn’t understand why Uther refused to accept that. Virgil finally realised just how careful he was going to have to be, even though he didn’t even know how to control his abilities. He looked up and saw the window slam shut making the glass crack from side to side. He couldn’t say that he blamed that guy for his reaction. Virgil just hoped that he was okay.

He finally took a step and broke away from the shock of the last hour. He made his way to the far end of the courtyard searching for The Court Physician’s quarters. He needed to calm down, and he hoped that Logan would be able to reassure him like his mother promised. Virgil was still shaking but he swallowed his pride and asked one of the patrolling guards for directions. Despite hearing words coming out of the guard’s mouth, it didn’t process in his mind at all. So he nodded and walked in a direction, hoping it was the correct way.

After about five minutes, and two laps of the bottom of the castle. It was clear that he was lost because he hadn’t seen anything that looked like a space for the Court Physician. He sat in one of the gaps of the castle walls and let everything sink in. He must have ended up being there for a lot longer than anticipated because an older man with grey speckles in his hair looked at him with sympathy and knelt down to his level.

“Boy? Is everything alright? Are you lost?” The caring voice was enough to snap Virgil out of his overthinking mind. He looked into the deep blue eyes and immediately felt a sense of calm wash over him. He looked down and saw the large book on herbs that the man was holding close to his chest. Could this be…

“Logan?” Virgil asked hopefully, he was desperate for this day to end. The man’s eyes glimmered with agreement and he nodded in a calculated way. Virgil sighed deeply in relief, finally, this day might come to an end and he could start from scratch tomorrow.

“That is me, yes... Who are you?” The hint of uncertainty shone through in his voice and Virgil remembered the letter his mother wrote for him to give to Logan. He frantically opened his bag and searched desperately for the letter, he knew it was somewhere near the front, because his mother knew that he would lose it otherwise. He felt paper brush against his fingertips, and he pulled it out to hand to Logan. He was met with an apologetic smile, and he couldn’t tell what he had done wrong.

“I’m so sorry my boy, I’ve misplaced my glasses.” Virgil looked up and saw they were actually sitting delicately on Logan’s head, but he didn’t want to embarrass the man who would hopefully become like a guardian to him. So he smiled softly and began to introduce himself.

“I’m Virgil...?” The silence between them became almost uncomfortable until Logan beamed brightly as he seemed to recognise the name.

“Hunith’s son!” Virgil smiled back just as brightly. “You’re not supposed to be coming until Wednesday!” Virgil’s smile faltered as he worked out again how to say this in a delicate manner.

“Er, today… is Wednesday.” Logan went to say something but he stopped himself. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and calculated something on his fingers before sighing in realisation. He stood up and held a hand out to Virgil while pulling him out of his seat in the wall. They started walking together towards a set of stairs which led to Logan’s quarters. He had only just realised that it was quite late in the day now as the corridors were illuminated with burning torches. Logan stopped Virgil from coming in, and he could see him scrambling around lighting candles. When the rooms were sufficiently lit, he welcomed him in with open arms.

“Head to the bedroom at the back and put your things in there. I’ll get us some dinner while you get settled in.” He left swiftly and Virgil staggered to bedroom. He looked around and as he put his bag down on the floor, he already felt at home. He opened the window and saw just how high up they were in the castle. The flickering lights of the houses and the still open market stalls made him smile, it looked eerily beautiful. He closed the window and sat on the bed waiting for Logan to return, but his exhaustion got the better of him and he immediately fell asleep.

When Logan came back and didn’t hear any response to his calls of Virgil’s name, he was slightly concerned. He briskly walked to the bedroom and smiled softly when he saw Virgil fast asleep, so he left a piece of pie and a glass of water delicately on the table next to Virgil’s bed and blew out the candle before heading back into the main room.

The night was quiet except for a deep, intimidating voice calling out into the darkness.

“Virgil.”

[magnoliasinbloom]

Lie To Me - 19

AO3 :: Previously

Jamie prays as he has not done so in a long time. He prays on his knees in the hospital’s nondenominational chapel, long enough that there are likely permanent dents in the bone. He lays prostrate on the weathered linoleum, hands held fast in supplication, hands beating at the floor in anger and desperation.

His voice in the empty chapel is rigid with fear and grief. He pleads; he bargains; he threatens; he begs for a miracle out of the lavishness of his God’s grace.

“Dinna leave me, Sassenach. This time I’ll beg. A Dhia, dinna take her from me.”

Dr. Denzell Hunter is listed on a whiteboard as the man responsible for operating on Claire. She had been rushed to the nearest operating room, and it had taken several nurses and a security guard to stop him from going in after her. The threat of being kicked out and banned from the premises had made him acquiesce.

Now, curses mingle with his prayers as he recalls the fabric of Claire’s dress turning almost black with her spilled blood. He vows to destroy the MacKenzie, to strangle Dougal with his own bare hands and watch with fervent glee as the life leaves his eyes.

Jamie had failed, once again, to protect her. That particular thought gnaws at him and will not let him rest. He briefly touches the bright red stains on his white jacket, some already rusted brown; a nurse had offered him clothes from the lost and found to change into, but he had refused. He would wear this until he knew for certain whether Claire lived or died.

Claire.

He struggled to his feet, knees protesting from the hard floor. He stumbles to the nurses’ station near the waiting room, hoping for an update on her condition. Geillis rounds the corner, in surgical scrubs but an incongruous, fully made-up face from the gala.

“Jamie!” She hugs him briefly and takes in the bloody jacket with a gasp. “I came as soon as I heard. The group chat blew up, saying a doctor had been shot outside the museum. I’d hoped it wasna Claire, but…” she trails off and suppresses a sob. “Hunter’s operating, he’s one of the best. She’ll be alright, Jamie.”

“They dinna ken… they havena—” He gestures helplessly towards the board and the nurses’ station and Geillis grips his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Aye. They’ll talk to me, let me see what I can find out.” She whirls away through the doors marked for authorized personnel only. Jamie feels time slog by in fits and starts, minutes dragging on endlessly, and before he knows it, it’s already been three hours since Claire arrived in the ambulance.

Geillis returns and takes him by the arm, dragging him to a secluded corner of the waiting room. “She’s stable, for now. The bullet hit her liver, which is very vascular—meaning there was a lot of blood loss, because it has many blood vessels,” she adds, understanding the look on his face. “But the liver regenerates itself, and she’s received blood transfusions to replace it. She was damned lucky.”

“Not lucky enough, to be with the likes of me,” Jamie whispers, dragging his hands through his hair. Geillis pulls his hands back down roughly, shaking him out of his stupor.

“It verra well could have been you, and I’d be having a different conversation with Claire. Now.” She regards his blood-soaked jacket with distaste. “I’ll take you to the doctors’ lounge, and ye’ll have a shower and change into something less morbid. Ye have to take care of yerself too—do it for her, at least.”

Her words tug at what’s left of Jamie’s heart and he agrees, if only to kill more time while the other half of his soul lies on a cold operating table.

X-x-X

“John Grey is here to see ye, Fraser,” Geillis calls into the lounge where Jamie is tying up the drawstring on the too-short scrubs. He fits the brace back over his hand and comes out to meet John Grey.

Jamie’s first instinct upon seeing the chief inspector is to wrench him into a hug. It catches Grey by surprise, but he is quick to return Jamie’s tight embrace.

“Thank ye, John,” Jamie manages, fisting handfuls of Grey’s shirt in his hands, the struggles of the previous night catching up to him once more. “I dinna ken how to thank ye.”

“No need, Jamie.” Grey pulls away and gestures toward the waiting room. “If you don’t mind, there’s someone here from SCD who would like to take your statement regarding the… incident. I know it’s a lot to ask, with what happened to Ms. Beauchamp, but it’s important to have all our ducks in a row. We’re moving ahead with the legal process, and bringing Leoch down. And I brought Murtagh along as well.”

The thought of seeing his godfather lifts Jamie’s spirits. The waiting room holds an elderly couple and a young man reading a French newspaper, and Murtagh surrounded by a few police officers. He sits and at Grey’s prompting, begins to recount everything that happened. Remembering the moment that Claire was shot makes his voice and hands shake with anger, and he glances at the clock behind the nurses’ station. Almost 3 AM. As he signs the affidavit, he’s suddenly yanked to his feet by Geillis.

“Family for Claire Beauchamp?” A tired-looking surgeon with blue paper booties covering his shoes emerges from the direction where they’d taken Claire.

“Yes, doctor?”

“Are you family?” He has an American accent, odd amongst the Scottish burr he’s accustomed to hear in Glasgow.

Jamie wavers, but Geillis intervenes before he can say the wrong thing. “He’s her fiancé, Dr. Hunter. Jamie Fraser.”

“Very well, Mr. Fraser. Miss Beauchamp is presently in the post-op recovery room. We managed to extract the bullet, and patch up her liver as best we could. The next 48 hours will be critical, as we’ll be watching for infection, but hopefully that won’t be an issue. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me. She was very lucky indeed.” Hunter extends a hand to shake Jamie’s, and he feels a small weight lift off his shoulders.

“Can I see her?”

“We’ll make sure to let you know when she’s in a room. She’ll be sleeping most of the time. And yes, Inspector Grey, I’ll appraise your team when she is in fit condition to talk to you,” Hunter adds, anticipating the officer’s comment.

With a grateful handshake, Jamie watches Dr. Hunter walk away. He drops onto the vinyl couch like a stone, his face in his hands, as the storm within finally gives way to racking sobs.

Alive. Claire’s alive.

X-x-X

Claire is aware of her body before anything else. A dull, throbbing ache laces her right side, and it feels rigid. Bandages, her mind thinks fuzzily. Why am I bandaged?

Her eyes still closed, she tries wiggling her toes. Still there. The feeling traverses up her legs, avoiding her abdomen which she instinctively knows will hurt like bloody hell, and then a fluttering of her fingers. She finds her left hand entrapped and she panics for a second. At this, she struggles to open her eyes. She blinks at the harsh white lighting above her head.

Claire glances down as she feels a warm wetness, and she realizes it’s Jamie. Jamie is crying, kneeling by her bedside. She wishes she could cradle his face and wipe his tears away, but decides it would hurt too much to move. She settles for speaking, after clearing her throat.

“I’ve decided… not to die.” Claire’s voice is soft and rusty from misuse, but it still startles Jamie. He comes out of his reverie to see that her eyes are open, a luminous gold in her white face.

Jamie doesn’t know what to say to that, so he manages a strangled, “Oh, good.”

“I could have. This is… bloody awful.” She winces as she tries to shift her body, but Jamie stops her. He is afraid to touch her further, for fear of hurting her, but can’t bear not to. He lays a hand as lightly as he can on her cheek, finding it cool. No fever; the IV pumping antibiotics into her via the needle in her right arm seems to be working.

“I know,” he says roughly, recalling the weeks spent in hospital healing from his own wounds. Jamie brings her untethered hand to his lips. Her bones feel frail. She hasn’t even the strength to squeeze his hand.

“But I… wouldn’t do that to you.” Already this small interaction is tiring her, and she is out of breath, but it seems important to let him know, that she is here, and she is still fighting. For herself, and for him.

“Thank ye, Sassenach. Truly.” He pushes himself off the floor with a groan, knees stiff and painful. He drags an uncomfortable-looking chair from the corner of the room and sits, still as close as possible to Claire. She looks him over, notices the dark bruises under his eyes and how his hands shake slightly.

“You haven’t slept or eaten, have you?” she asks critically; Jamie ducks his head and she knows she’s right. Claire is mindful of how much energy each word expends. She wants to remain awake, to drink him in, to just be with him, but knows the road to recovery is just beginning. “It won’t do me any good to have you sick, either. Go eat, please, and then get some rest too.”

“I dinna want to—”

“Stubborn Scot.” Claire sighs, and exhaustion wants to pull her under again. “There’s a couch. I’m sure it pulls out.”

Jamie offers a small smile. “What I want right now, Sassenach—I want verra much to kiss ye.”

“Come here, then.” Afraid to hurt her but even more desperate to feel her lips against his, he brushes his mouth in the gentlest kiss.  

“Do ye need anything, Claire? Shall I call the nurse? Geillis has been around, but ye were still out.” Jamie is anxious to leave her, but understands that he cannot run himself ragged; he would be unable to help her recover and be with her.

“No.” Her eyes are already drifting closed, with a combination of what her body endured and the pain medication. “I just need… you. Go. I’ll be… here.”

With a final peck on the lips, Jamie heads for the door. Even though Claire is sleeping again, he makes her a promise, out loud: “You werena the first lass I kissed, but I swear to ye that ye’ll be the last.”

[burgerkang000]

Who needs a soulmate?

also this is a wooyoung fic

yes, ill be adding the read more thingy

@beyoncesdragon @aixy-hpsa (if anyone else wanna be tagged, tell me )

enjoy? :/

THIS FIC IS BEARABLE BECAUSE OF @mingination​ so, actually most of my fics are bearable cuz of her so uhm go hype her up?

In a world where soul mates exist, your soul found amity whenever you were with Jung Wooyoung. You always thought people had soul mates because it brings peace to their souls. You thought it exists because when two people were together; their souls go on an adventure, an adventure that was never the same for a pair, or even a trio of people. 

But all that changed when you met Wooyoung. It happened when you were dragged outside by your friend, because you tend to hole up in the dorms. As she was dragging you to her car, you bumped into a stranger holding a house plant, the glass pot shattered and the soil scattered, making quite a mess.

“Ah, that hadn’t had set yet.” The stranger exclaimed. You had no idea why he was so calm about it as you expected him to lash out any moment, but instead he smiled at you, displaying his beautiful pearly white teeth and told you not to worry about it.

You stared at him dumbly as he tries to pick up the shattered glass, and that’s when you decide to speak up.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You kneel down to help him with the glass all the while expressing how sorry you are, and rush up to your room to grab cleaning supplies to clean the soil. After the both of you cleaned up the mess, you offered to go plant shopping with him, to pay back for the one you clumsily broke.

Of course, he refused, but you insisted and he gave in.

Your friend had seemed to leave, leaving you to make small talk with the stranger.

Later that night, you shrieked at your friend for leaving you alone with the handsome stranger and she laughed it off leaving you absolutely furious.

The day that you had planned to go to the greenhouse, Woo contacted you and said that there was a change of plans, you were confused but agreed anyway. But you were a little surprised when he took you to the flower shop, where the enthusiastic florist explained the meaning behind all the flowers Woo had picked. You had enjoyed yourself very much that day, surrounded by the scent of different flowers and the rays of sunshine that had brought a specific kind of warmth to the store, even though this was going to burn your savings for a good whole month and you’d have to stick to ramen if you wanted to pay rent for the shared college dorm you were in. When you were done picking flowers, Woo ended up paying, saying that your company was enough as a payback for breaking his plant.

Before he dropped you off at your dorm, you were shocked when he handed you the flowers he bought and your eyes widened as he leaned in closer to leave a soft kiss on your cheek and whispered to look forward to his texts. As he left you stood there dumbly, blushing profusely and unable to comprehend what just happened. And that night you went to bed with a smile on your face, sniffing the flowers which now were placed on your bedside table.

 .

.

.

That was how it started; now you have a theory on what soul mates are; they’re people who were created to be perfectly adaptable to you, but the chances you find them were 0%, except for the few people who would search everywhere for their soulmates and find them. You’ll never meet your soul mate in this world or the next one, because there is a definition of perfect for the universe, but everyone else’s definition of perfect is different.

And even if you do meet your soulmate, there is no guarantee that they’re the one for you, since the universe is changing. And it’s about time it changes the rules set for humans.

You find amenity when you’re with Jung Wooyoung and that’s all the reassurance you need.

 .

.

.

Even though your theory has helped ease (like the tiniest bit) of your frustration over the resounding problem which was, what if Woo finds his soulmate? The thought of that suffocates you; you turn into a human zombie pondering through assumptions, and possibilities. Until one day Woo sits you down and asks what’s wrong.

“What would you do if you find your soulmate?” you ask quietly. He shakes his head, conveying silently that your worries are unnecessary or maybe he’s disappointed in you for thinking things like that, but it’s not like you can help it.

“I’d tell them, no thank you, I have a lovely girlfriend who wants the universe to change its rules and I stand by it.”

You lightly hit his arm and huff out a laugh.

“I’m serious”

“I’m Wooyoung”

‘’I’m sick of your bad jokes” and as you get up to leave, he pushes you back down, places a hand under your chin and says-

“I won’t leave you for the fucking world. You hear that?” 

 .

 .

.

After a few weeks of dating and becoming official, Woo took you to visit his friends, who were the reason you met in the first place, the innocent plant was asked to be delivered by one of his friends, you needed to thank them, since the plant was long gone.

And, you’ve heard a lot about his seven friends, who share an apartment house, with four rooms. When you were led inside, you were attacked with greetings, compliments and questions; you tried to reply to all of them, you really did. They were more intimidating in the beginning, but now you wonder what was it about them that made you feel that way.

Jongho was a person you would always avoid, you were mostly shy (read: terrified) of him. But one day you were eating an apple, and he wanted to show you a trick. And you were beyond shocked when he just broke it into two halves with his bare hands. And every day after that, you’d bring an apple when you feel like it, and pass it to Jongho and tell something utterly ridiculous like

The cat ate my knife

I’m too broke to buy a knife

It’s banned to cut apples with knives; I heard it on the news

And he would roll his eyes and do it for you anyways. 

Once you handed him a melon, and you were surprised that he attempted to break it open. He banged it on the table twice and glared at you for making him look weak; you ran as he chased you around with a melon.

Seonghwa was your favourite. He’d come over, be annoyed at the mess you and Woo made and then proceed to clean it up. But all jokes aside, you really liked Seonghwa, and he does laundry too!

Hongjoong, you assumed would be very authoritative, was actually an adorable goofball. And you enjoyed teasing him about his height.

Yunho along with Mingi were the dorky and mischievous pair, and always managed to earn a yell from Seonghwa for dirtying the place with their ridiculous pranks.

Yeosang, who was Wooyoung’s friend for over 5 years, appeared to be a very quiet person and somewhat normal compared to the others. That's what most people would think anyways, but once he opens his mouth you’d regret ever calling him quiet. The guy knew how to expose people better than Dispatch did.

San, now San you have beef with.

Because he takes Woo away from you, and you keep on complaining to no one in particular-

“This is not fair-” you ramble off

“Look I’m only helping, it’s for the greater good-“

“Oh? What would that be?” you shot.

“Woo, likes it when you get all jealous”

Your cheeks heat up and then you angrily look at Woo who shrugs and says “I didn’t say a thing”

You storm out the room and hear something along the lines of

“He also likes it when you get all hot headed; I’m helping you get laid, your welcome….”

.

.

.

 You and Woo have fights too, But you have an unspoken, but definitely existing rule; communication. Sure, there might be couples out there who can guess what the other person is feeling, or what the other person wants-

But for you and Woo, communication is key and you like it that way.

.

.

.

It’s impossible to wake Woo on Sundays, so you have taken the matter into your own hands.

Despite being adults who have different jobs and no longer go to school, you aggressively shake him and yell

“Woo, time for school, you missed the bus, wake up”

Or

“There’s a fire, the cat is dying”

.

.

.

“I love you”

 You were the first one to put it out there. You just blurted it out one night, lying in bed, when you were lying next to each other, hands intertwined in between you both, just staring and outlining each other with your eyes. You were ready to drive off the nearest cliff when-

“It’s obvious I do too, no words necessary”

You were suddenly embarrassed and rolled over to the other side to hide the colour of your cheeks, yanking your hand away and muttering-

“Great or else you can find me at the bottom of a cliff with your damaged car.”

“Didn’t know your life was on the line”, he says back hugging you and grabbing your hand back.

“It’s clearly an exaggeration, dumbass”

He chuckles and both of you fall into a silence of nothing but the sound of your breathing and the clock ticking. And right when you were almost asleep, you hear him mutter I love you, I love you, I love you and press a kiss to the side of your head before pulling you closer and tightening his hold around you.

You think you’ve never felt more content, sharing a complex emotion, which is filled with other complex emotions and being understood, it was profound to be understood.

Who needs a soul mate, you’ve got Jung Wooyoung and that was more than enough for you.

.

.

.

[kurowrites]

Anytime

So, I saw this post and @sarah-yyy‘s tags, and since I’m a dumb person with the attention span of a goldfish, I completely forgot about all my other projects and wrote this instead.

So have Wei Ying owning a car, and Lan Zhan being very, very weak for that smile. Enjoy.

---

The first time it happened, it was… not necessary, perhaps, but certainly welcome.

Lan Zhan stood just outside the large central entrance of the library, barely shielded from the downpour by its projecting roof. The weather broadcast this morning hadn’t announced rain, so Lan Zhan had rode his bicycle to university as he usually would. While he had been studying in the library, however, the weather had changed from partially sunny to what some might be tempted to call the precursor to the apocalypse, and he had missed his chance to return home unscathed. The library would close soon; returning inside wasn’t an option. Neither was riding his bicycle home in this deluge. He could only wait, and maybe call his brother if the bad weather persisted.

He had just made peace with the thought that he would be standing there for a while when someone bumped into his side. Taken by surprise by the sudden physical contact, he swung around, stepping back, but what he found... was Wei Ying, smiling up at him with his usual incandescent grin.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying had shared exactly one class in their first year of university, but ever since then, Lan Zhan had been unable to escape the acquaintance. Had eventually given up trying to escape the acquaintance, submitting to the inevitable.

It didn’t help that Wei Ying’s happy smile always made his knees weak. Wei Ying was loud and obnoxious, but Lan Zhan would gladly take that loud and obnoxious if it came in combination with that smile. The one that Wei Ying always used on him.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaimed happily. “Fancy meeting you here! Are you going home?”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed.

When he didn’t move, but simply kept staring out at the falling rain (in an attempt not to stare at Wei Ying for too long), Wei Ying’s smile turned into a frown.

“Ah,” he said, concern now tingeing his voice. “You forgot your umbrella, huh? Not that it will help you much today. It might break in this weather before you’ve made it as far as the next building.”

Lan Zhan had expected Wei Ying to leave after he’d made his customary greeting, but a moment later, he bumped into Lan Zhan again.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. Want me to give you a ride? I have a car!”

Lan Zhan opened his mouth to decline politely, but Wei Ying was already pulling on his arm.

“Look!” He pointed through the heavy rain, though Lan Zhan couldn’t see what he was pointing at. “My car is right over there. If we run, we can make it!”

And with that, he ran out into the rain, pulling Lan Zhan after him.

It was a mad scramble to reach the car relatively unscathed, and Lan Zhan was panicking about the contents of his bag all the while, but eventually they made it, only halfway drenched. They jumped into the car and slammed the doors shut as fast as they could, not caring about anything but getting out of the rain. For a moment, they just sat there in the front seats, breathing heavily as the rain kept pounding onto the windshield. Suddenly, Wei Ying laughed, shook himself, and inserted the key into the ignition.

“That was something, huh, Lan Zhan?” he asked between his laughter. “Look at us, two rats drowned in a storm.”

He shot a look at Lan Zhan.

“You still look as handsome as ever though. That’s so unfair. Do you ever suffer from the phenomenon known as human condition?”

Lan Zhan didn’t bother to reply to that, but privately, he thought that Wei Ying too looked as handsome as ever. The wet hair and drenched jeans added something to his look. It was... Lan Zhan quickly averted his eyes.

“Come on, Lan Zhan, tell me something fun,” Wei Ying continued, not cowed by Lan Zhan’s unresponsiveness. “Is there a time of the day where you don’t look perfectly put together? I’m asking out of scientific interest.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said in warning.

Wei Ying laughed again, more quietly this time, put the car in reverse, and skilfully manoeuvred out of his parking spot.

“You can’t blame me for my curiosity, Lan Zhan. Can’t you help a fellow man out?”

“There is nothing for me to help out,” Lan Zhan replied. It was, after all, the truth. Wei Ying was already handsome enough. Beautiful enough. Attractive enough. Bewitching enough. There was nothing that Lan Zhan could do to improve that.

“Ouch, Lan Zhan, that stings!” Wei Ying said dramatically. “I know I am a scruffy, feeble man, but do you have to say it like that?”

That was certainly not what Lan Zhan had meant. He opened his mouth to reply, but Wei Ying shot him a teasing look.

“Careful, Lan Zhan,” he warned him with more laughter in his voice. “If you aren’t nice to me, I’ll leave you on the roadside, drowned rat or not. See if someone else will pick you up in this weather.”

Wei Ying would never do that, Lan Zhan knew, but he didn’t want to risk insulting Wei Ying by accident a second time. He kept his silence.

“Honestly, Lan Zhan, I had figured you’d own a car. Your family is certainly rich enough for it. “

“Unnecessary,” Lan Zhan replied. “Uncle is strict about protecting the environment.”

“Ah, I see, I’m an evil polluter then,” Wei Ying laughed, shifting gears. “Sorry. I swear the car is necessary, or I’d never make it to university.”

“It was not a judgement.”

“I know that, Lan Zhan, I know that.”

He quickly patted Lan Zhan’s knee, probably to express that he wasn’t angry, but the gentle touch robbed Lan Zhan of his breath. Wei Ying had touched him again. This was the fourth time tonight.

Not that he was counting.

Silence settled over the car, only interrupted by the unceasing sound of pounding rain, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Being with Wei Ying was never uncomfortable, unless one considered Lan Zhan’s inappropriate feelings.

One day, he would learn better than that.

One day.

From time to time, Lan Zhan gave the necessary directions, and before long, they arrived at their destination. The rain had grown slightly weaker by now, though definitely still not enough to risk going home by bicycle.

“Thank you, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said into the silence of the car as it idled at the side of the road. “I’ll see you at university.”

“Anytime, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying folded his arms and leaned on the steering wheel as he smiled at Lan Zhan, a Cheshire grin as if he was letting him in on a secret. “I’m always happy to drive you around.”

Lan Zhan didn’t know what to say or where to look, so he simply bowed his head once before he opened the door and dashed to the entrance of his apartment building, his bag of papers clutched to his chest to shield it from the rain.

That had been the first time Wei Ying drove Lan Zhan home, and, Lan Zhan assumed, the last time, as well.

He was wrong about that.

 ---

It wasn’t a big difference to take public transportation to university the next morning, though Lan Zhan missed his customary bike ride. The public transport took longer and he’d never particularly liked being surrounded by so many people at once. Still, he arrived at the university in good time and went on with his day as he usually would.

He didn’t see Wei Ying that day and returned with his own bicycle in the evening. He banned all thoughts of Wei Ying and moved on. It was useless to dwell on it. It had been a favour, and Wei Ying was simply a good person for making sure Lan Zhan made it home safely in a rainstorm.

Three days later, when he was leaving the library, someone bumped into him again. This time, he didn’t startle, but simply turned around, and there he was: Wei Ying. He looked good in his usual black leather jacket and high ponytail, smiling up at Lan Zhan with that particular smile of his that seemed fine-tuned to make him weak.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying greeted, repeating his words from last time. “Fancy meeting you here! Are you going home?”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan replied.

“Well, in that case, let me give you a ride again, okay? You were such a good customer last time.”

And just like last time, Wei Ying took his hand and led him over to the parking area, and Lan Zhan, smitten fool that he was, followed without complaint.

During the drive home, Wei Ying chattered on about his day, about his siblings, about the horrible dog he had seen the other day; about anything his brain would settle on for a moment, it seemed. Lan Zhan enjoyed the chatter, offering quiet, encouraging noises for him to continue from time to time. Before he knew it, they were already home.

“Thank you again, Wei Ying,” he said when Wei Ying stopped the car.

“Anytime, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying replied with a smile.

Lan Zhan’s bicycle had been left at university again, but that didn’t matter. Not when he had found a way to spend time with Wei Ying, just the two of them on their own.

 ---

The next day, Lan Zhan found a notice from the university tacked onto his bike to not leave it at university at night, or it would be towed.

We-ll, he thought to himself, this was a sign that he should stop accepting rides from Wei Ying.

And yet, when Wei Ying asked him the next time, he let himself be guided to the parked car by Wei Ying’s hand, and he sat next to Wei Ying during the ride thinking to himself that he had to go back and pick up his bike later on. It was a waste of time, and yet he found himself incapable of rejecting Wei Ying’s offer.

“Lan Zhan, my neighbour got pet rabbits,” Wei Ying excitedly told him. “They are so cute, I tell you. I could eat them, they are so cute.”

Lan Zhan frowned. “Not food.”

“I know, I know. Have you never seen anything so cute that you’ve wanted to eat it?”

You.

The thought came unbidden, and it startled him. He felt his ears burn at the thought, but luckily, Wei Ying kept his eyes on the road.

This time, he stifled a sigh of relief when they finally arrived at their destination. He felt like he was losing his mind. Wei Ying was too much.

“Thank you again, Wei Ying,” he said out loud.

“Anytime, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying replied with a smile.

Returning to university to pick up his bicycle was a waste of time, but he had to do it.

It was also so, so worth it.

 ---

Lan Zhan’s new habit of letting Wei Ying drive him home, returning to university, and driving home again continued for a while. It was fine, he told himself. He wasn’t hurting anyone with it. Except for himself. Keeping his desperate hope up that Wei Ying could ever see him as more than the person he sometimes drove home after seeing him at the library.

It was fine.

Like all good things, however, it had to end at some point. The end came unexpected.

Wei Ying had driven him home that day as usual, talking about his neighbour’s rabbits and how much they had grown since they had first arrived. As usual, Lan Zhan had thanked Wei Ying before he’d gotten out of the car, and Wei Ying had replied, “Anytime.”

As usual, he had returned to university to pick up his bike. Before he could pick it up at the parking area, however, he had run straight into Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaimed with surprise. “Didn’t I just drop you off at home? Did you forget something? Do you want me to drive you back?”

“I– Wei Ying is still at university?” Lan Zhan asked, confused.

“Ahahaha yeah, funny story that, I forgot I still had a meeting to go to!”

Was it just him, or did Wei Ying seem strangely nervous?

“Forget, my ass, you’re just trying to avoid your responsibilities,” Jiang Cheng groused.

“Hey! I had important stuff to do!”

“Oh yeah? What’s the oh-so important stuff you had to do? Every Thursday, you say you have important stuff to do and end up being late, but you evade answering what that ‘important stuff’ is.”

Wei Ying’s eyes flickered over to Lan Zhan for a moment, before they settled on Jiang Cheng again, teasing whim while simultaneously trying to appease him without actually answering the question.

Something stuck in Lan Zhan’s mind. Thursday.

Thursday was generally the day that Wei Ying would catch him at the library and drive him home. Thursday was apparently also they day on which Wei Ying had meetings which he was late for regularly.

Wei Ying shot him another look, his cheeks tinged red. He looked… panicked.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I came to pick up my bicycle,” he said.

In a moment, Jiang Cheng was forgotten. Wei Ying’s attention was all on Lan Zhan.

“Lan Zhan! You commute by bicycle? I didn’t know!”

“You never asked.”

“Oooh, shit, you are right! Oh man, I’m so sorry! You were too nice to say anything! I feel so bad now!”

“I did not mind.”

Wei Ying stopped and looked at him with big eyes.

“I did not mind… Wei Ying driving me home.”

There was a punctuated moment of silence between them. Lan Zhan was quite sure Jiang Cheng was frowning somewhere in the background, but he could not attend to that now.

Slowly, understanding dawned in Wei Ying’s eyes.

He took one step ahead.

Then another one.

Then he latched onto Lan Zhan’s wrist.

Squeezed once, and smiled when Lan Zhan’s hand turned around to hold onto Wei Ying’s wrist, too. They were almost holding hands.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying quietly said, looking at their hands and then up at Lan Zhan’s face. Looking at their hands again, holding onto each other. “Next time… let me pick you up in the morning.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed. His ears burned, but he wouldn’t let go now.

(“Not with me in the car!” Jiang Cheng shouted from somewhere behind them. But Lan Zhan couldn’t be bothered, because he was currently faced with something far more devastating. Wei Ying’s smile, while he had thought it impossible, had just managed to grow so impossibly bright he had to close his eyes. He couldn’t look, or he might go blind by the sheer force of it. Still, he looked. The damage was worth it, he thought. That smile was sure to burn itself onto his soul, and he could not find it inside himself to regret that the slightest bit.)

[willcwthewisp]

spirited away | eddie & willow

TIMING: before mother’s day. LOCATION: willow’s apartment. PARTIES:  @specterchasing and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: eddie goes on a medium-driven chore, but gets medium uno reversed. also the spiderman meme except it’s mediums.

Willow sighed as she lowered her paint brush, feeling that familiar nagging sensation tingling in her neck that came whenever a portrait wasn’t quite right. It looked fine— lovely, even. But there was simply something amiss that the ghost in question hadn’t approved of, and she’d lost the snippets he was saying to her quite some time ago, as if his words had flitted out her open wind on the breeze. Oh well. The piece would be a nice one to sell, and there still might be a person who recognized what it was that she’d painted. There’d been quite a few instances of people coming forward, asking questions about certain pieces she’d done that looked far too similar to their memories of loved ones, or scenes of their youth. That was generally when she passed the painting off to her brother, a medium and exorcist who was much better equipped to deal with the ghost of the painting, and the loved one that came along with it. 

It almost came as a relief when she heard a knock at her door. Almost. Rising from her place at the easel in her art room, she peered through the peephole of the door only to be met with the face of someone she’d never seen before. “Ah- sorry, can I help you?” she began nervously, already thinking of the disaster that could strike if she ended up having to open the door. She didn’t have any interest in causing a hospital visit today. Or any day for that matter. Maybe she should request to be moved to the first floor of her complex. Then it’d be a little less worrisome when it came to potentially throwing people across the hallway. 

Eddie had some reservations about showing up to a stranger’s house unannounced, but they were outweighed by curiosity and a sense of duty. The ghosts made Willow out to be someone like him. In all of Eddie’s years in White Crest, he’d never had the opportunity to meet someone else who could interact with the dead. Admittedly, it seemed like she had a knack for ignoring them and that didn’t sit well with him, but he tried to reserve judgement until there was proof beyond the claims of a few disgruntled apparitions. 

“Yeah, so, hey,” he said, eyes locked onto the peephole. It struck him as odd that she didn’t open the door, but they lived in White Crest, after all. Being careful saved lives. “I know you don’t know me and this is probably wicked weird for you, but I’ve got a message from a, uh, mutual friend that they’d really like you to hear. It’s a little private, so I’d feel a little more comfortable giving it to you in… well, private. You wanna open the door for me?” He thought about reassuring her that he wasn’t some kind of bloodlust-y murderer, but realized that would only make him seem more dangerous.

Willow’s fingers tapped nervously against the door, still looking through the peephole and reminding herself that this man couldn’t see her in return despite the eye contact he made. “A mutual friend?” she echoed, the phrase throwing her. She’d purposefully distanced herself from the bulk of her friends ever since this whole sporadically throwing people problem had come to her attention, and she hadn’t had all that many to begin with. It was a choice of her own, never having been someone to seek out the company of too many people. Willow had been more than happy with that before her telekinesis had made any company dangerous. Now she relied on the people she called at her telemarketing gig to remind herself she was alive. It wasn’t all that helpful when they were yelling half the time. 

The ability to say ‘no’ was another of her shortcomings, and Willow walked a few paces back and forth as the man asked to be let in. Going back to the door, she glanced at him once more through the peephole. “I...okay- alright. But just- don’t come too close, okay?” If she could keep a table between him and her, things should be alright. Without further delay, she was opening the door to reveal the interior of her apartment, already taking a few careful steps away from the man. 

When Eddie’s question was met with a few long moments of silence, he half-expected his venture to be rendered fruitless. He couldn’t find it in himself to blame Willow for not trusting him, but he did wonder where her sense of adventure was. If a stranger came knocking on his door with the promise of a vague message, they wouldn’t have been able to finish their sentence before he welcomed them in.

Just as he turned away from the door, she finally spoke up. A warning. “No problems there, I’m a big fan of boundaries,” he enthused as the door opened. Willow seemed even more skittish than the average White Crestian as she put ample space between them. Eddie decided not to let it bother him—she likely had her reasons.

“Okay, so, the friend in question is a little on the dead side,” he explained carefully as he stepped into the apartment. “Actually, there’s a few dead friends. Is that… like, is that unusual for you, having dead friends?” As accustomed as he was to having conversations with ghosts, he knew that wasn’t exactly normal. His parents made that perfectly clear to him. If Willow wasn’t as much like him as he hoped she was, he needed to ease her into the subject matter.

“Great- good, that’s good,” Willow babbled nervously as she did exactly as she’d planned, skirting around to the other side of the table that was in her kitchen while Eddie spoke. But the mention of dead friends was more than enough to catch her interest, and in a reflexive move she looked over to the chair that Kal often loved to frequent. He was the ghost she heard most reliably, and currently her best friend seeing as she’d banned herself to as much isolation as possible. Unfortunately she wasn’t entirely sure whether or not he was here at the moment, her focus pulled away from any attempts to perceive him by the stranger in her apartment. 

Thankfully, Kal had no problem speaking for himself. The ghost had already taken up a spot at Willow’s shoulder the moment Eddie had stepped into the apartment, feeling rather protective after the last stranger to enter Willow’s abode had left her tired and crying. “What do you want?” the ghost asked the man reflexively, not actually expecting an answer from one of the living. That was- until he recognized the familiar aura of what Eddie was. “Oh shit- you’re a medium, too?” 

Willow, still blissfully unaware of the guardian ghost asking questions on her behalf, was doing her best to play it close to the chest. She wasn’t entirely all that private about mediums and their abilities, but it wasn’t exactly the best idea to lead with ‘occasionally I see and hear dead people.’ “Um- do you have dead friends?” she asked, unable to come up with any better reply while being entirely oblivious of that fact that Kal had already given her away.

Willow’s babbling and general nervousness faded into the background the moment Eddie laid eyes on Kal. “I am!” he announced, eyes glistening with pride before finally prying them away to look at Willow. “Looks like we both do,” he said with a wide grin. Hope had taken hold of him before he reached Willow’s apartment, and now he knew it wasn’t in vain. Finally, he knew someone like him; someone he wouldn’t have to hide from, not that he usually did such a good job with keeping secrets. Eddie didn’t know how to be anything except himself, but he thought it might be nice to have someone in his life who didn’t look at him like he was speaking in tongues when he talked about the dead.

“You don’t have to hide anything from me, I’m just like you,” he told Willow. He thought it was a little strange that she apparently hadn’t heard the ghost out her, but maybe she was just playing it cool until she knew she could trust him. “Okay, maybe not just like you, but we’ve got a pretty cool common denominator.” 

Eddie took a moment to center himself. Amidst the excitement, he nearly forgot what he came here for. He looked back to Kal. “I’m just here to talk to her about her paintings, nothing weird, I promise.” Again, his eyes switched their focus to Willow. “See, some of our dead friends aren’t exactly happy with how they’re being portrayed, and they’ve been very adamant that I bring the issue up to you.”

Willow almost jumped at the stranger’s exuberance, momentarily confused while he replied to Kal. She still couldn’t hear the ghost, her mind moving far too fast at the moment for it to slow down enough to listen to her ‘dead friend.’ “Like me?” she repeated the words skeptically until he began speaking to Kal once again. “So you’re a medium?” Kal put his hands up as if trying to stop Eddie’s words before he could get them out...to little avail. “Hold on- don’t say that!” Willow’s paintings were one of the few, free joys the woman had left in the world, and he wasn’t too keen on seeing whatever reaction she might have in response to the other medium’s claims. 

But the words had been said, and Willow’s lips had already turned downwards into the beginning of a frown, looking towards the door of her art room and then back to Eddie. “They don’t like them?” Did they want her to stop? She’d always loved painting the stories she heard from the ghosts, even if some of them were sadder than the rest. Those were the paintings she also gave to her brother, the ones that had such miserable stories attached to them. Surely all ghosts deserved to move on if that’s what they wanted, but the ones that could only focus on their pain...that could only give Willow the traumatic stories of their demise, those were the ones that needed it the most. “I mean...I know my pictures aren’t perfect to what they remember but…” she trailed off with uncertainty, not entirely sure where that sentence had been going.

Kal’s warning went unfortunately unheeded, and Eddie only realized its importance once he saw the frown on Willow’s face. Her second question dampened his initial excitement. He didn’t know how important her paintings were to her, but it already sounded like he wounded her pride. So much for making friends.

“Well, I didn’t say that,” he quickly backtracked. “I’m sure they really appreciate the time and effort you put into memorializing them—I know I would.” Eddie spent more time than he cared to admit wondering about his own demise and what would follow it; how he’d be remembered. If someone cared enough to put his final moments on canvas, he couldn’t imagine being anything other than grateful. “Really, they just have a few minor critiques. You know ghosts, they can be a little picky.” He shot Kal an apologetic glance. “I know how hard it can be to feel the pressure of someone’s last wishes on your shoulders, it makes you really wanna do right by them, but there’s no way to do it perfectly every time, y’know? And only a few have come to me, so I bet you’re actually doing a really great job overall.”

The stranger was sure of the dead’s gratitude because the ghosts had said as much to him? Or was it because he assumed such a thing? “Did they...tell you that?” Willow asked tentatively, hoping that the answer might be yes. She didn’t paint solely for the ghosts, but it’d be nice to know that they got some enjoyment out of it as well. She’d always thought they liked having their stories listened to, being given a moment to relay something important of their life and seeing it painted before their very eyes. Still standing behind Willow was Kal, nodding his head emphatically as if he could provide the answer for Eddie, or at least signal the other man into giving a good one. 

The mention of ghosts being less than fond of her paintings was awkward enough, but now came the part where Willow had to tell this man that she actually wasn’t all that familiar with working for the dead, at least not in the way most mediums were. She wasn’t as self-conscious about her lack of abilities when it came to her family, having accepted long ago that she was different, and actually being somewhat grateful for the fact that she’d gotten to live a life of her own rather than one ruled by the departed. But when such an admission was being made to another medium that wasn’t related to her...well, it was nerve wracking to say the least. “Ah- well- about that. I don’t actually see and hear them all that well. Just sometimes. Not like the rest of my family or most mediums or whatever.” The last of his words had another semi-hopeful spark entering her eyes. “Really? You think so? Do you know which paintings the ones that have come to you are upset about?”

Seeing Kal’s emphatic nodding convinced Eddie to mirror the action. “Yeah, of course,” he said. In truth, they were usually more concerned with their grievances than what they enjoyed about Willow’s work, but Eddie felt like her spirit had been crushed enough for one evening. If she needed to hear a white lie to keep her self-esteem from folding in on itself, he would more than happily oblige. 

“Oh,” Eddie uttered upon hearing her confession, more interested in learning that her family shared her gift than anything else. He wondered what that must be like—to be surrounded by people that understood you. Mild jealousy flared in his gut. He thought he’d met someone like him, but instead it seemed to inhabit two completely different worlds. “At least you have people in your life who can help translate,” he offered, smiling sadly in spite of himself.

Willow’s follow-up question pulled him out of his self-pity. “Yeah, one sec.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and opened the notes app. “George, the guy who died in a house fire, he said his eyes weren’t that close together. Shelly, the elderly woman who died of natural causes, says that you got her bedroom all wrong—she can’t stand your choice of wallpaper. And, um, Andrea, killed by some kind of demonic moose, would like it if you painted her with a little more dignity. She swears she didn’t go out screaming.” Eddie looked up from his phone to see how much damage their criticism had done. “See? Not so bad, just… little things.”

“Really?” Willow asked again, rather smitten with the thought that the ghosts might like her work. Sure, the person she painted most for was herself but...it was still nice to hear that people had enjoyed your work— especially when they were the inspiration. “Well then...I’m glad they like it.” The very beginnings of a smile had taken to the corners of Willow’s lips, looking the most relaxed she had since this conversation began. 

But that smile quickly turned to concern as Eddie spoke. He didn’t have anyone with him? How had he learned about the world of ghosts in the first place? “You parents...they can’t sense ghosts?” Willow supposed the ability didn’t have to run in families, but she was rather biased when she’d been raised in a family full of spirit-sensing humans. “Well you know- if you ever needed someone to help you translate I’m sure anyone in my family would be happy to. Especially my mom or brother.” It’d been some ten minutes of knowing the man after he’d shown up unaccounted at her door, and she was already offering him access to her family. This was probably what some of her more cynical friends were talking about when they said her kindness would get her hurt. 

Willow listened carefully to his requests, trying to memorize them all before she realized she’d most likely forget. “Do you think you could send the list to me? I could give you my number.” Then he’d also have it if he had any ghost questions, and was too nervous to ask how to contact her in the future. Going over what she remembered from his list, her lips pursed ever so slightly as she thought of the paintings in question. She couldn’t be sure, but this seemed more like an issue of vanity rather than her skill. Except for the wallpaper one. She often filled in the lesser details of paintings that ghosts didn’t bother to outline with her own artistic license. “Yeah- not too big.” Now that it was clear it was more the ghost’s problem than her’s, she was somewhere closer to being set at ease.

At the sight of Willow’s sort-of-smile, Eddie grinned from ear-to-ear. It felt like he managed to do something right. “Yeah, me too,” he enthused. He didn’t know Willow well, or at all really, but he already had a sense she might need the validation. Eddie couldn’t blame her, he had a lot in common with Tinker Bell, himself. When the applause stopped, so did his heart. Considering that, he realized he might have been projecting, but doing so in this instance seemed harmless enough.

The smile dropped as quickly as it disappeared, giving Eddie a taste of emotional whiplash. Willow seemed concerned about him, he didn’t intend for that, but her offer struck him right in the heart. “I don’t really wanna bother anyone,” he said politely while every fiber of his being revolted against his ill-timed manners. “But, I mean, if they… if they would be happy to help, like you said, it’d probably be better for everyone if I took you up on that, right? Who wants an uneducated medium running around solo?” He shrugged while his heart beat wildly in his chest. Finally, people who would understand him. Eddie’s throat tightened as he considered the possibilities.

“Oh, yeah, no problem!” Eddie brandished phone and closed the distance between Willow and himself with little regard for how intentionally she’d cultivated it. “Here you go,” he said amicably as he offered the device to her.

Oh! The younger man looked very nice when he smiled, like he didn’t have a single intention to hurt anyone that lived in this world. The change in his demeanor had her mirroring it instinctually, and her own smile grew bigger— as if they were stuck in a feedback loop of grins. While he began to speak of being a bother, Willow’s head was already shaking in a fierce denial of the concept, not willing to let him disparage himself in her presence. “You’re not! I’m the one who offered, anyway! And I mean- it’s always nice to have more ghost friends, isn’t it?” Friends were the last thing she needed while she was a literal flight risk in the sense of sending those around her sailing via telekinesis. But she couldn’t just let him fumble in this strange world by himself. “Perfect, then! I could put you into contact with my brother first! He’s the most involved with all the spiritual stuff- he’s actually an exorcist in addition to his mediumship.” If this young man latched onto her brother, Forest, there was also less risk of him coming around Willow to get hurt. 

Gingerly accepting his phone while being careful to avoid any contact, Willow tapped her number into the contacts, adding her name to the entry. Oh, right- she hadn’t actually introduced herself quite yet. “I’m Willow, by the way. Willow Finch.” She made no inclination to offer a hand for shaking, still avoiding physical contact at all costs. 

The moment Willow uttered the words ‘ghost friends’, Eddie felt a rush of unexpected affection. His entire life, most people either completely denied the existence of ghosts or spoke poorly of them. For a moment, Eddie struggled to find the right words to say, an unheard of predicament for him. “Sorry,” he said with a laugh. “It’s just—you ever hear something that sounds too good to be true? I’m waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me.” Not only did her family have mediums, it had exorcists. He wondered if she knew how lucky she was.

Eddie watched as she entered her phone number, half-expecting it to begin with 555. “Oh, right, I kinda did walk into your home without telling you who I am, didn’t I?” It wouldn’t be the first time he disregarded common courtesy and overstepped boundaries, and it likely wouldn’t be the last either. “The ghosts told me your name, but I’m Eddie, Eddie Carridine. It’s awesome to meet you, Willow Finch.”

Willow’s heart already ached for him, recognizing a loneliness in his words that she knew intimately these days. Perhaps their situations of isolation were from different patterns, but they’d been cut from the same cloth. The feeling of being alone wasn’t kind in the least, no matter where it stemmed from. Not for the first time she wished she could lend someone physical comfort in addition to emotional solace, the desire to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder growing stronger the longer he stood in front of her. “Of course. The world can be disappointing in the worst ways,” she began softly while forcing herself to stay where she was. “But I also know me and my family. And I bet you’ll be begging to get rid of us before they’d even think about leaving you alone. It’s just not in our blood.” After all, wasn’t that one of the tenants of being a medium? Ensuring that not even the dead were left behind, let alone one of their own. Where that was potentially comforting to Eddie, it was less than ideal for Willow— constantly having to make her own space when it came to the people that loved and raised her for fear of hurting them. 

“You were just trying to help,” Willow began with a chuckle, the only reservations left in her being based around keeping Eddie out of arms-length. And so far he’d respected that. “And the dead...they have a lot less people helping them than the living- so I’m glad you did.” Her smile was softer this time, still settling into who she was while she was less concerned about a stranger being in her home. “It’s awesome to meet you too, Eddie.”

Kal elected this as good a time as ever to re-enter the conversation, some of his wariness stirpped away as the conversation proceeded. Besides— he was naturally inclined to like any medium he came across. “She means it- you know. About not leaving people alone. She can’t see me half the time, but she still talks to me. Even if she’s not even sure I’m here. She’d do the same for you.” It was why he’d become so attached to Willow in the first place, unable to deny the heart she had for caring.

Eddie smiled sadly when Willow mentioned disappointment. The world let him down a few times, but he placed the blame on himself more often than not. He made eye contact with his biggest disappointment every time he looked in the mirror. Willow swiftly pulled his mood out of the gutters of self-deprecation when she told him he wouldn’t be left alone, not by her family. A lump formed in his throat, forcing Eddie to convince himself not express such intense emotions around someone he met minutes ago. “Where’ve you guys been my whole life?” he asked, making an attempt at levity. Nothing she said felt real, but Eddie had a penchant for far-fetched beliefs.

“Yeah, you actually get it,” he said, nodding as he did. It made sense for a fellow medium to empathize with ghosts, but that didn’t make it any less surreal. “I’m glad I did too, otherwise we might not have ever met. That would’ve been a pretty big loss, I think.” He didn’t want to sound too certain, he knew how intense he could be. 

Kal captured his attention next, confirming what Willow said. The lump in Eddie’s throat quivered, forcing him to clear it. “You guys make quite the duo,” he observed. “I, um, appreciate it—everything, I mean.” His gaze turned back to Willow. “You didn’t have to be so kind, most people wouldn’t. So, I… yeah, I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”

Willow could tell he was on the verge of spilling over, she recognized it well when she’d seen it so often in herself. A gentle shrug tugged at her shoulders in response to his question, knowing he was trying to lighten the mood, but unable to perfectly match the nonchalance. “Just sitting here waiting, I guess. I think you’re actually running a bit late.” Another bell-like laugh trickled from her lips, not wanting to come on too strongly despite the kindness in her words. But she recognized a lost soul when she saw one, even if she’d seen less wandering spirits than most mediums had. 

She got it. Maybe not quite as much as someone with fully realized abilities, but she’d seen enough of it through her sister and brother, and parents as well. For a moment Willow was also overcome by emotion, her throat tightening as Eddie landed his compliments. How long had it been since she’d had such a tender moment in person? How long had it been since she’d made actual eye contact with someone for this extended amount of time? “I think I’m the one who would have been missing out,” she answered with the corners of her eyes crinkling in a welcoming happiness. She didn’t mind his intensity, oftentimes having a penchant for it herself when it came to the delicate side of life. 

Willow was silent a moment while she assumed Kal was talking to Eddie, reckoning the way his gaze flitted to the ghost over her shoulder. She’d seen it in the eyes of her family more than enough times. “Kal’s been here with me when...I haven’t been able to see much of anyone else. He does just as much for me as I do for him.” Possibly even more. “The way I see it- kindness is free, isn’t it?” Another shrug claimed her, and for a moment she thought she could almost feel Kal’s hand as he laid it onto her shoulder. “I’m just glad I can give it. You just focus on being kind to yourself, and we’ll call it even, yeah?” 

Fresh tears stung Eddie’s eyes. He immediately blinked them away, trying his best to save face. Showing his emotions rarely sat well with him, but he felt safe here even though he only just arrived. “Sorry,” he offered yet another apology as a second wave of tears formed in his eyes. “I’m sorry, this is probably so awkward.” He wondered what Willow thought of him crying at the first sign of kindness. Eddie pulled the hem of his jacket’s sleeve into his palm and wiped away the evidence of his emotional outpouring. “I promise, I don’t usually do this in front of people I’ve just met… or anyone, actually.” He let out an empty huff of laughter, suddenly unable to make eye contact.

The blows kept coming as Willow turned the compliment around on him. “Yeah, well, we’ll see,” he countered. “Get back to me when you’ve known me for a few hours.” Eddie felt pathetic and happy at the same time; exposed and protected. It didn’t make sense, emotions weren’t supposed to contradict each other so harshly, not in his experience.

Eddie watched as Kal’s hand rested on Willow’s shoulder. He said she couldn’t see him half the time, but Eddie liked to think he could recognize love when saw it. An irresistible urge came over him and, before better judgement could kick in, his arms wrapped around Willow.

Willow was a sympathy crier. There was no way around it, and her own eyes were beginning to well as she watched Eddie’s fill with tears, though her’s were born of the happiness that came from witnessing the weight fall from the other medium’s shoulders. Her heart ached for him, recognizing just how desperate he must be to break down so easily when faced with the bare minimum in terms of showings of kindness. Her own clumsy laugh danced with Eddie’s while she gave him whatever time he needed to recollect himself. She’d already decided she was going to ask him to stay for some juice and cookies. Or maybe wine and cookies? He looked fairly young, just at the cusp of drinking age. Someone so young should never have been as alone as he seemed, and her soul began to hurt all over again. 

All that turned to panic in the very blink of an eye as Eddie reached for a hug, and Willow’s hands were thrown out in front of her while she yelled frantically, “No! Don’t!” But it was too late, and as the young man came into contact with her hands she felt the telekinesis flash along with her flaring emotions. In another blink, he was pulsed back from her with a thrust far too powerful for the force to have come from her hands alone. “Oh god- oh god,” she gasped as she ran to his landing place on the couch. He’d fallen on something soft, but she wouldn’t feel relief until she knew he was alright. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Oh no- oh god I’m so sorry.” This time her tears were ones of dread and hopelessness. She should have known. Should have known things were going far too well, and that danger was lurking around the corner.

Eddie pushed the envelope often, it didn’t always end well, but he could honestly say that being telekinetically launched across the room was a first. He hit the couch with a thud, feeling like the air in his lungs had been knocked out of him. Before he could manage to sit up, Willow appeared next to him spewing apologies and concern. Eddie looked up at her, recognizing that she never meant to hurt him, and couldn’t help laughing. His lungs hurt, but he preferred the pain over crying. Propping himself up on his elbows, Eddie shook his head. “Hey, accidents happen,” he said with a wide grin. “But, uh, do you think you could teach me how to do that?”

Accidents happened, but they happened far too often when it came to Willow and her telekinesis. “But they shouldn’t,” she insisted, head shaking even as she skittered to put space between her and Eddie once again. “I don’t- I don’t control it.” The admission was paired with a blanket of shame and guilt falling over her features. Eddie had trusted her to give an answer when she offered help, and she was already failing the first question of that test. “I’m sorry- I can’t- I don’t know how to teach you. I don’t even know how to teach myself.” That was why he should stick around her brother more than he ever clung to her. “You should- you should go for now, I don’t want to hurt you if you stay longer.” How could she offer him a home, and then cast him out in the next breath? Was that not the cruelest thing she could have done? But if he left disappointed, at least he left whole and with his life still intact.

“Thank you, though.” He’d given her so much in just the span of a half an hour or so. “Really- thank you. I’m um- I’m glad the ghosts chose you to deliver the message, and brought you here.” Now the ghosts of her anxiety would just have to get him to leave. “And I do want you to text me.” In person wasn’t something she was willing to offer in the wake of having lost control, but she remembered how relieved he’d look immediately before everything had gone south, the look of a man crawling towards an oasis in the midst of a desert while he’d throw himself into his attempted hug. She wanted to be the person that quenched his loneliness. Willow just wasn’t sure how to do it while keeping him in one piece. 

[daikenweek]

Daiken Secret Santa 2020!!

A bit of a surprise here, but we’re throwing together a Daiken Secret Santa gift exchange!

The challenge runs from NOW to December 25th, when gifts are distributed.

SIGN UP HERE!!!

RULES

Any participant who requests or offers Mature or Explicit (R-18) content must be 18+ years old.

Participants must complete a story of at least 1,000 words or create a finished art piece using the prompts and details that your recipient requested. Use this information as guidelines, but you absolutely cannot ignore the recipient’s do-not-wants (squicks, triggers, general dislikes, etc.).

Defaulting or dropping out before the sign-up deadline means you will not be penalized. If you do not upload a completed submission by the submission deadline, you are considered to have defaulted. Participants who default repeatedly will be banned from future participation.

Do not contact your recipient directly for information, even anonymously. All contact should go through the moderators as an intermediary.

Do not publicly discuss details of your creative content that would identify what you are creating or for whom you are creating it.

The mods reserve the right to ban any participant who behaves inappropriately during the gift exchange.

While it is not required to comment on your gift, in the spirit of the holiday season and the exchange itself, you are encouraged to thank your author/creator.

FAQS

What is the Daiken Secret Santa?

The Daiken Secret Santa is an annual gift exchange for the Digimon Adventure 02 pairing Ichijouji Ken x Motomiya Daisuke (Davis). Participants sign up to write a story of at least 1,000 words or create a piece of artwork for a prompt someone else has requested. In return, they receive a story of at least 1,000 words or a piece of artwork for a prompt they requested.

When does the Daiken Secret Santa happen?

2020 Schedule

SIGN-UPS OPEN! till November 7th

Assignments go out: Between November 7th and 10th

Posting deadline: December 20th at 12 p.m. UTC

Story reveal: December 25th at midnight UTC

How does the Secret Santa work?

During sign-ups, people use a Google form to request and offer to write stories and/or create artwork for the exchange. Participants must fill out all required questions to sign up.

After sign-ups, participants are matched up based on their requested prompts and general likes and dislikes, and assignments are sent out. Participants have approximately 5-6 weeks to write one story of at least 1,000 words or create a finished art piece for one of the recipient's requested prompts.

Prompt fills must be completed by December 20th. Fanfiction should be posted to the AO3 collection, where they will wait until the reveal. By this date, artists should email their art piece to miracles.kindness@gmail.com to confirm their completion.

At midnight on December 25th, the stories and art pieces are revealed. For fanfiction, this will happen on AO3, where the works can be gifted directly to the recipients. Artists should post their art pieces in time for the reveal and email the direct link to miracles.kindness@gmail.com, so we can pass that link on to the recipient.

How to contact the mods

The fastest and easiest way to contact the mods is by emailing miracles.kindness@gmail.com.

What am I committing to if I sign up?

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The link to the sign-up form will be shared on various other social media websites, and participants are encouraged to share the link and invite others to join the exchange.

Can I change my mind about my sign-up after I submit it?

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How are assignments generated?

Once sign-ups are over, we will use an automated matching process to match the authors/creators and recipients, though we will manually tweak this to make sure the matches are a good fit.

Once everyone has a match, the mods will send out official assignments.

Do I have to create content for all of my recipient's requests?

No, you're only required to write one story or create one art piece, and you can choose which of your recipient's requests to respond to.

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Of course! Once you have one completely story of at least 1,000 words or one finished art piece for your recipient, you are more than welcome to create more.

How do I add my story to the AO3 collection?

On AO3, please go to the collection and click on “Post to Collection” under the title. This will take you to a form with the challenge collection name already filled in. You must then add the recipient’s AO3 account name manually, as provided with your assignment, and the rest of the story information.

Can I add my story to the collection before the deadline?

Yes, you are welcome to post it to the collection whenever you want, as long as it is before the deadline.

Can I edit my story after it's posted?

Yes, AO3 allows editing at any time. But it is important to note that your content must be complete when it is uploaded.

What if I can't finish my submission?

If you cannot finish your story or art piece in time, you can default. This lets the mods know they need to find a pinch hitter to create content for your recipient.

Life happens, and it is better to default earlier rather than struggling to meet a deadline you might not be able to meet. This also allows the pinch hitters more time to work. You can always default, have the prompts sent to the pinch hitters, and if you manage to finish, you can still upload and your recipient will receive an extra story.

To default at any time, please contact the mods at miracles.kindness@gmail.com to let them know you are unable to finish your submission, and we will find a pinch hitter to fulfill the assignment.

What are pinch hitters?

Pinch hitters are people who agree to help fulfill assignments where the original author/creator had had to default or drop out. As people default, the mods share the assignments to the pinch hitter group, where they're available for anyone to claim.

Pinch hitters are not required to participate in the challenge, but once you have claimed a pinch hit, you are committing to the same rules and requirements as if you had signed up to participate from the beginning.

Story reveals on AO3

At midnight UTC on December 25th, the mods switch all the posted content from hidden to visible on AO3, and participants are notified via email that they have received a gift with a direct link to the content.

Artwork reveals

Within the 24 hours prior to midnight UTC on December 25th, artists must post their art piece and email the direct link to the mods. Then, at approximately midnight UTC on December 25th, the mods will email out the links to the recipients.

[dharc16]

STONE DIVINATIONS

Divination is a magical process which utilizes various tools to provide glimpses of the future. The use of tarot cards is a form of divination, as is watching clouds pass overhead or gazing at the patterns caused by tea leaves in a cup.

For those who are unable to be consciously psychic when the need arises, divination is the next best thing, although the ability to intuitively divine is also a gift that is not given to everyone, despite what modern paganism would have you believe, it is something that anyone can do in prayer while trying to discern God's will in their own lives.

While performing this magic, we focus our conscious mind on the symbols presented to us and allow them to contact our psychic mind. The symbols – coins, rune stones, raindrops on a window – are simple keys which enable us to unlock our psychic awareness or messages from our higher selves or more importantly from God.

There are thousands of forms of divination. It has been practiced in all cultures throughout history. Sometimes these rites were performed by the individual, sometimes by priestesses, priests or shamans. It was practiced by God's people in the Bible, including by Jesus' own disciples. The quest for knowledge of possible future events is still alive today. What was banned in the Bible was practicing divination for selfish reasons, for reasons that might cause harm to other people, or gaining information by using demonic spirits.

I said, “possible future events” above because nothing is carved in stone. The future isn't mapped out in advance. Our choices change our futures. The story of Jonah was one of those examples. We are creating our futures every second of every day. Our lives are the results of our decisions. Divination can help us make those choices.

Just as we determine our futures, other persons can influence our lives as well if we allow them to. Universal forces ebb and flow, adding their energy to the shape of tomorrow. The factors that are at work here are incomprehensible.

Fortunately, we needn't understand these processes to gain a glimpse of the future. All we need do is choose our tools and use them ritually to contact the spiritual guidance that is available to us all.

Stone divination is an excellent form of this ancient art. When you need guidance regarding an important decision, look to God and use the stones for help. If fear grips you when you think about an upcoming event, look to God and use the stones. If you;re unsure whether or magical rite you're about to perform is designed for your goal, use a stone divination to bring all sharply into focus.

This can easily become a crutch. The man or woman who won't leave the house without consulting a psychic is a cliche, but it is too often true. Divination isn't a necessity for daily living; it is a tool which we pick up and use when needed, then set down. Divination can help us make decisions, warn us of possible dangers or ill-health, and provide another perspective on a problem.

It may be exciting to perform a divination, but it should never be done “just for fun” or out of boredom. Like magic, divination is used when it is necessary.

Most divinatory systems contain some sort of element of 'chance.' This determines which tools – in this case, stones – will be available to help us unlock the secrets of tomorrow. Pulling a stone at random from a bag, opening our Bibles randomly for a verse, shuffling tarot cards, or tossing I Ching stalks or coins brings chance into the divination.

Always pray before doing any form of divination. Ask for God to show you what They need for you to know for your quest.

Other forms of divination rely on more direct communication with the subconscious mind. The pendulum, for example, is a tool which is set in motion by minuscule movements of the arm and hand that hold it. These movements are caused by the conscious or sub-conscious mind, and are interpreted to gain an answer. These are less likely to be supernaturally influenced and there is a larger margin for error because our minds may know what we WANT to hear and will influence our movements to provide that answer, even if that is not the answer that we NEED to hear. I, personally, can make a pendulum give whatever answer I want it to give without anyone else seeing any movement at all. This is nothing more than slight of hand and can be dangerous when asking for God's will.

If you're consciously psychic at will, you won't need divination. If not, you may want to begin working with one of the systems outlined in this chapter. In doing so, remember these things:

It may take a few sessions for you to properly work the divination, to approach it with the correct frame of mind, and to use the symbols presented to you to unfold your psychic awareness.

The future isn't predetermined. If you see something that bothers you, you can change it through your choices and through prayer, intention, and magic! If an unreasonably rosy picture is presented to you, you might question yourself: Am I reading my desires into this? Am I properly utilizing the system? Is this system appropriate for me? (In other words, does it speak to my psychic mind?). I have found that it is rare for one person to be “gifted” in more than one or two forms of divination. Like I am very gifted in Tarot and do well with Runes but not really with any other form of divination. In fact, I am honestly afraid to use my pendulum because I CONSISTENTLY get the answers I want to receive so that I do not feel safe in basing choices and life decisions on it unless it is something that needs an answer from my own subconscious mind and not from a higher source. It is wise to acknowledge this and take steps to develop my true gifts instead of trying to force a divination form that does not work well for me. Everyone has gifts and one gift is not better or worse than any other gift.

That is my advice to you. Everyone has different God-given gifts. Not everyone has “witchy” gifts but their gifts are no less important. And those who DO have “witchy” gifts do not all have the same ones. Just because you think Trelawny is amazing and you want to be like her does not mean that you will ever have the gift of reading tea leaves or crystal balls. Be sure to pray to God and ask Them to show you what your God-given gifts are, and then be honest with yourself when you see that one gift, even if you wanted that gift, is not for you. And be sure to use your intuition always!

If you DO find that you have a gift for divination, remember this: Divination is performed out of necessity. If an honest conversation, a few phone calls or letters, or a few moments of concentration will successfully clear up your questions, try these things first. If not, work with your divinatory gift.

STONE SCRYING

Scrying is gazing into or contemplating a shining, luminous or reflective surface.

Stone scrying is probably the best known form of divination. Highly polished, reflective stones have been used for thousands of years in developing psychic awareness.

Most people have heard of the ubiquitous 'crystal ball.' This magical tool is simply a sphere of quartz crystal. Large, clear quartz spheres can cost $1,000 to $10,000; but smaller ones an inch or less in size are available for about $20. The six-inch variety seen in cheap movies are made of glass or plastic. The six-inch quartz spheres are more rare and more costly but, fortunately, aren't necessary.

Quartz isn't the only stone chosen for scrying. A multitude of other stones are also used for forms of scrying. Flat, square pieces of obsidian were favored in ancient Mexico and beryl spheres or eggs were the stones of choice during the Renaissance, but the crystal sphere captured the popular imagination long ago.

This is a guide for those interested in scrying with quartz crystal spheres. Remember, this is a GUIDE only! As with everything in magic, listen to your intuition!

After obtaining your scrying stone, wash it in water. Dry and wrap it in a soft, dark cloth.

Traditionally, stones used for scrying are never exposed to sunlight, as this is thought to hinder its ability to contact the psychic mind. Perhaps it would if you believed it would.

However, moonlight is used to purify crystal or gemstone spheres. The Full Moon is an ideal time to cleanse and 'charge' a crystal or gemstone with your magical intent – in this case, successful scrying. Take the wrapped stone out into the moonlight. Unwrap it, and, with both hands, hold it up to the moon. Feel its cool light raining down on you. See it (through visualization) flooding the stone, attuning it with your energy. Then visualize yourself successfully scrying with the stone. Don't forget to pray to God, consecrating the stone to God's service. After a few moments, wrap it up again. It is done.

As for the scrying itself, here are a few pointers:

Scrying is best done at night. Symbolism is certainly at work here: night rules the psychic mind. Also, there is probably less chance of interruption.

Find a quiet spot. Sit comfortably. Place the crystal on a stand on a table or hold it in your hands.

Candlelight can be conducive to scrying. Through some say that reflections of the flames in the crystal are disturbing, for others this is exactly what helps them achieve the proper state.

Experiment to see what works best for you. You might place white or yellow candles behind your back at first, then move them to either side of you, and finally ring the crystal itself itself with the candles.

Once you, the crystal and the candles are all situated, relax. Breathe deeply for a few moments with your eyes closed. Forget the worries of the day, the stresses, the problems. Relax your body. Relax your mind.

Then open your eyes and hold the crystal in your hands until it is warm. Some magicians say that stones won't work in magic unless this is done. As your hands warm the stone, your body is releasing personal power into the stone. Visualize your area of inquiry during this process.

Now replace the stone on the stand or continue holding it, whichever you feel comfortable with.

Continue to relax; gaze into the crystal. Don't stare unblinkingly into its depths, simply gaze. Blink your eyes if you wish. You must be calm and relaxed during scrying.

The crystal is a symbol of psychism, of water (the psychic element), of your need to divine the future. Hold these things in mind as you gaze into the sphere.

Now take time to pray. Ask the Holy Spirit to guide and direct your efforts and to communicate the Divine will to you regarding your query. Then open your eyes and begin to gaze into the crystal.

If the operation is successful, you will contact your psychic mind and communication will take place.

Will you see pictures? Probably not – the crystal isn't a movie screen. You may see wisps of smoke swirling within the sphere – this is common. But few see images within it.

If anywhere, you'll see them in your mind. Images seen during scrying are often symbolic; they aren't psychic news footage of future events. Interpret the symbolism as best you can.

If you see no pictures, unbidden thoughts may come into your mind instead. Words, phrases or complete sentences may 'pop up' out of your psychic mind.

Whatever you see or think – either images within the sphere or in your mind, or words or phrases – try to relate them to your question or your area of inquiry.

Words are simple enough. Think about them. Do they mean anything to you? Are they ambiguous or direct?

Symbols are more difficult. For example, if you were asking if it would be a positive action to move into a new home, and you saw images of bats flying above slithering snakes, then interpret these symbols.

To some, snakes are related to wisdom and bats to luck. For such a person, the move would seem to be favorable. However, if you fear snakes and find bats disgusting, your symbols are suggesting the opposite.

See how it works? Symbols are the language of the subconscious mind, and, while we may all speak the same language, we use different dialects. Thus, the psychic mind uses a personal language which may mean nothing to others.

If you can't find or afford a crystal or gemstone sphere, or don't wish to use one, there are several other methods of stone scrying. Any naturally reflective stone, most crystals, and those which see to possess inner movement can be used as 'mirrors of the psychic mind.' These last stones include cat's-eye, moonstone, sunstone, tiger's-eye, star ruby, opal and many others.

Take the stone out into sunlight or moonlight, or hold it near a candle. Still your conscious mind. Move the stone slowly in your hands while visualizing your area of inquiry.

Do this for several minutes. Don't WILL anything to happen; simply wait until the strange movements in the stone and the hypnotic movements of your hands break your conscious mind's hold on psychic input.

Again, interpret any symbols or words that come to you.

FIFTY-STONE DIVINATION

This is an entirely different form of stone divination. Though I'd love to have fifty emeralds to use for this ritual, the type of stone used isn't important. If financially practical, select psychism-inducing stones such as amethyst, aquamarine, citrine, quartz crystal, moonstone, in any combination. Or use whatever you have. Since God provides the answers to your inquiry, there are no symbols to interpret. Yes, this divination is limited but it just may provide the answers you need.

Fill a bag or a box with 50 stones of approximately the same size. Think of your question and reach into the bag and grab a handful of stones. Place these on a flat surface before you and count the number of stones you have randomly chosen. Odd numbers indicate favorable conditions, a positive answer, success. Even numbers presage the reverse.

BLACK AND WHITE STONE DIVINATION

This is the most simple form of divination. According to the Bible, the Urim and Thummim were two large stones of great brilliancy that were worn by the High Priest of ancient Israel in the Old Testament on the Ephod, one to the left and one to the right of the breastplate. According to extra-Biblical and inspired sources, when questions were brought for decision before the Lord in prayer, a halo of light encircling the precious stone at the right was a token of Divine consent or approval, while a cloud shadowing the stone at the left was an evidence of denial or disapprobation. They are most often pictured as black and white but no reliably known source actually tells us the color. The stones were lost in the Babylonian invasion during the time of Daniel. It would be wonderful if we could still, today, ask God a question and have a sign light up that said yes or no. But we don't. The closer we get to God during study, prayer and meditation, the more clear Their answers will become to us, by whatever form of communication God chooses to use. But we can do what is essentially "drawing lots" when asking God for a special yes or no question. It is chancy, and therefore in my mind risky, but many people do this.

Take a black stone and a white stone of the same size and shape, such as a marble, and put it in a black bag. Prayerfully ask your question and then pull one stone from the bag. Make sure that you have decided which stone means yes and which stone means no before doing this. Most people use white as a positive answer and black as a negative answer. The stone you pull will serve as an answer to your question.

RAINBOW STONE DIVINATION

This divination uses the colors of stones to provide clues regarding the future. You'll need seven stones, one of each color, all approximately the same size and shape. Place these in a soft cloth bag, and, when you need guidance, select a stone at random from the bag. It may answer your questions. If not, take another stone and 'read' or interpret them together.

Here is a list of suggested divinatory meanings by color. If this doesn't speak to you, make your own list.

• RED: Symbolizes anger or other destructive or negative emotions, birth, change, sex, passion, endings, energy, and confrontations.

• PINK: Symbolizes love, friendship, relationships, family, interchange, the heart.

• ORANGE: Symbolizes illumination, personal power, energy, movement, travel, exchange.

• YELLOW: Symbolizes communication, happiness, joy and other positive emotions, light work, protection.

• GREEN: Symbolizes growth, money, grounding, health and healing, fertility, business, transactions.

• BLUE: Symbolizes peace, sleep, purification, emotions, subconscious, psychic mind.

• PURPLE: Symbolizes spirituality, mysticism, expansion or growth in the previous, royalty.

How do you interpret these stones? I'll give an example:

Say I'm wondering what's causing me to be so depressed lately. I've been down for weeks and can't figure out why. So I still my mind, and then get my bag of stones and reach inside. I pull out a green stone. The first thing that flashes into my mind is money. Wanting more input, I pull out a red stone. 'Energy' is my next thought. Money and energy. But I asked about depression.

Could I have been depressed all this time because I wasn't making enough money? No, not that. Could it be that I haven't been putting enough energy (work) into making the money I earn? That could be it. I analyze it, and it seems right.

I've found a possible reason for my depression. Now what do I do?

Use choice, prayer, intention and magic to change my condition. Transform a negative into a positive. Working more will help, but using magic will help even more. I might wish to carry or wear green and red stones to push me further toward what I should be doing.

See?

It isn't always this simple, but try it out. Work with this or any system to receive its greatest gifts!

This lesson was adapted from Scott Cunningham's book Crystal, Gem & Metal Magic.

[sadclearance]

red nail polish

pairing(s): mukuro ikusaba x female!reader, junko enoshima x female!reader

summary: y/n loves junko enoshima.

category: fluff(?) angst(?) idk what this is

warning(s): tiniest mention of blood and a knife

word count: 1691

voluminous pink hair covered y/n's vision as she blinked her eyes awake.

"junko," she smiled, pressing her face further into the strawberry blonde goodness. "waking up to you is the best."

"y/n! i told you not to mess with my hair! i'm the ultimate fashionista," junko sat up quickly and backed away, giving a dramatic pout to y/n.

"you never cared about your fashionista title before," y/n pouted but let her beloved have her space.

"we're adults now. we have to care," junko puffed up her cheeks and got out of bed. "it's how i bring in money!"

"i know, i know," y/n smiled, getting out of the bed with her. "and i appreciate all of the hard work you do."

y/n pressed her lips to junko's cheek before being abruptly pushed away.

"did i make you mad?" y/n frowned.

"no," junko sighed, pressing her own lips onto y/n's cheek. "but i'm running late! i have to get ready!"

"okay, okay," y/n laughed. "i won't interrupt you anymore. go get ready."

junko was in the bathroom before y/n could even finish her sentence, almost knocking over a white cabinet. y/n spotted the red nail polish stains. she'd have to search up how to get rid of that later.

"amazing how serious she's gotten," y/n smiled to herself as she prepared breakfast. "how much she's... changed..."

y/n tried to pinpoint when junko changed, but she couldn't remember. the more she tried to focus on the timeline of their relationship, the less of a grasp she had on time.

she didn't dislike the present junko. she liked how serious and motivated she was, especially about her career. before, y/n couldn't get junko to be passionate about anything no matter what. junko was always talking about how predictable everything was and how uninteresting the world had become. something about...

"i can't remember," y/n sighed as she turned down the heat of the stove. she licked her lips as she tried to focus on the task at hand but paused when she tasted something bitter and acidic.

she moved to the closest mirror and saw that the part of her lips that she hadn't licked look paler and beige than the part that she had.

"junko! did you fall asleep in your makeup again?" y/n giggled at the thought. she never would've imagined junko to be so careless. well, it just made her a thousand times cuter. "so even you have these clumsy sides..."

"yeah, yeah. my skin's too good to be affected by makeup," junko winked and posed with a peace sign as she stepped out of the bathroom.

"i know, i know. my lover's just too perfect," y/n said as she set down the plates. "your hair even dries super fast for how thick it is."

"it--it's a hairdryer, stupid. try it some time," junko stuck out her tongue childishly before digging into her meal. "thank you for the food!"

"it sure does feel nice being appreciated," y/n sighed exasperatedly as she took the seat across from her. "you used to not even look at the food i made for you!"

"... i must've been real stupid, then," junko said after another bite, "because this is the best food in the world."

"should we start up our own restaurant then?" y/n suggested playfully. "that way i won't have to be jealous of all the people that get to see you in your commercials."

"don't be silly," junko waved her hand exaggeratedly. "no way i'm cut out for restaurant work!"

"yeah, i guess that'll have to wait until you get old and wrinkly," y/n scrunched up her nose buoyantly.

"yeah, i guess," junko said, stuffing her mouth with the rest of the food on her plate. "i'm seriously running late!"

"don't choke!" y/n said as she took the plate from her.

"i'll be back later tonight!" junko waved quickly before running out the front door.

y/n smiled at her work ethic before washing the dishes.

"night, huh?" y/n pouted. "well, i guess i could get groceries."

she left the cozy apartment and walked to the local grocery store.

"what?" she frowned when she got to the place that she thought the store was supposed to be.

she was sure she had taken the correct route, so why was she standing in front of an apartment complex?

"did i walk in a circle? apartments look similar and all..." y/n tried walking around more, only to find more tall buildings, both for housing and for companies. it was nothing like the remote street that she was used to.

there were billboards and big lights, as if she was in some busy district.

"maybe i got lost in my thoughts and wandered off somewhere..."

everything about this place was unfamiliar.

"excuse me, where am i?"

"what do you mean?"

"where is this place?"

"you mean... tokyo?" the stranger looked at her with a confused expression.

"tokyo? no, that can't possibly be right," y/n shook her head.

"lunatic..." the stranger frowned before walking away.

y/n took a deep breath. there was no way that she had walked all the way from her mediocre town to tokyo.

"i can't believe that was banned."

"i know! it's already been two years. plus, it's not like junko enoshima's the one reaping the profits of the sales for her clothes, anyway! she's long gone. i don't see why it's such a big deal to wear her stuff."

"she was a terrible person, but she made the cutest things!"

two years? long gone?

what did all of these things mean?

and why were they saying such terrible things about her?

"they're probably just jealous since she's such a pretty model..." y/n shook her head, keeping herself from defending her lover. she was a celebrity, so of course junko was going to get hate. y/n shouldn't let it get to her.

she refocused on the problem at hand. she didn't understand how she was in tokyo.

"maybe if i try going back the way i came from..."

she eventually made it back to the door of her apartment. the building and hall didn't look familiar at all, the only thing she recognized being the door.

she cautiously turned the doorknob and peaked inside. it was indeed her apartment. she could see her kitchen and parts of her living room.

"home sweet home!" y/n sighed blissfully as she closed the door behind her. she didn't understand anything else that had happened, but seeing something familiar again made her feel better.

"y/n?! where were you?!" junko shrieked in a panic when she saw y/n.

"i wanted to get some groceries, but i couldn't find the store i always go to. i swear it was just there last week," y/n hummed.

"i told you. we have people to deliver that stuff for us," junko shook her head.

"well, it's boring not to have anything to do. i wanna be useful sometimes, too, you know?" y/n pouted. "and it's no fun being inside all the time."

"thanks for trying then," junko embraced y/n. "but don't go out like that again! you scared me!"

"yeah, i was scared, too," y/n shivered just remembering. "you won't believe the day i had! there was this crazy person who thought we were in tokyo! no way i could've walked all the way to tokyo. and, they looked at me like i was the crazy one."

"you're not crazy, baby," junko kissed y/n's forehead.

"i know, it was just a weird day," y/n sighed into junko's touch.

"you look tired. you should take a nap," junko ran her fingers through y/n's hair.

"that's a good idea," y/n agreed, closing her eyes and letting her weight fall onto junko.

"i didn't mean on me," junko rolled her eyes playfully.

"but i wanna," y/n whined.

junko bent down, snuck her arm behind y/n's knees, and used her other arm to carry y/n's back.

"well, this is new," y/n giggled. "i could get used to being carried like a princess."

"in your dreams," junko said, unable to hide her smile.

"i love you," y/n said as junko set her down on the bed.

junko's smile faltered, and the joy in her eyes was replaced by some indistinguishable faraway look. nonetheless, she whispered back, "i love you, too."

"join me in bed?" y/n asked.

"in a sec," junko promised as she went into the bathroom.

y/n kept her eyes open, waiting for junko to come back. as tired as she was, she wanted to wait until she could fall asleep in junko's warm embrace.

her eyes wandered to the dresser, where something red was dripping out of the white cabinet. she got up from the bed and pulled it, gasping to find a bloody knife.

"make-up is so... i hate... no, i have to--"

"junko!" y/n said as she threw open the bathroom door.

her mouth fell open to the sight of a woman with short black hair, rubbing vigorously at her face with a soaked cotton pad, revealing the soft brown freckles that were once hidden by foundation.

"jun... ko?" y/n stumbled.

"i took a real long time, huh? i'd be impatient, too, if i were you," the woman dropped her cotton pad. "c'mon, let's go to bed."

she took a hold of y/n's hand and pulled her to bed, putting her thin arms around y/n's frozen body.

"sorry for making you wait so long..." she sounded sad, even with her voice muffled by her face being buried in y/n's hair.

"don't sound so defeated," y/n pulled away to look at her in the eyes, voice soft and careful. "purple suits you..."

mukuro's eyes went wide with shock.

"after all, blue and red make purple[1], right? i love you no matter what color your eyes are, junko."

mukuro froze before letting a somber smile settle into place as y/n snuggled back closer, closing her eyes and falling asleep.

the bunched up abundance of strawberry blonde strands obscured y/n's vision as she slowly opened her eyes.

she smiled, pressing her face further into the nest of pink strands. "waking up to you is the best, junko."

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

a/n;

[1] apparently junko's real eye color is red and she just wears blue contacts idk i haven't watched it since i stopped writing three years ago.

just another shitty work. i thought this would be a good idea, but i once again didn't know how to execute it.

i also wanna do one where it's the inverse as in junko pretends to be mukuro, but i might not since i'm discouraged by how shitty this one turned out. well, we'll see.

also i once again didn't know what to title this

[dcubang]

2020 Rough Draft Submission Guidelines

Hello! I hope everyone is doing well, and your writing and creating is coming along! These are the Rough Draft Submission Guidelines, and I will be accepting rough drafts between July 1st-July 8th, Wednesday-Wednesday. Please make sure to read everything!

Rough draft submission is only for the Traditional Author track. If you have chosen Solo Author or Tandem Author, do not submit a rough draft! This is only for the authors wishing to be paired with a fanworker, and are not already working with a fanworker. =D

If you signed up as an undecided author, now is the time to choose if you will continue as a Solo author, Traditional author, or if you have paired up with an already, Tandem author. I will only be sending emails out to those that signed up as undecided and have yet to let me know which path they've chosen, however, if you need to switch please get in contact with me, either on Discord or email dcubang@gmail.com. Now is also the time to switch down from the 10k Big Bang to the 5k Mini-Bang if you need to!

Here's a helpful post for writing summaries!

Beta readers are not required this year, but if you are wanting a beta reader, here is a resource post for finding one: Beta Reader Resource Post. Please note that these might be outdated!

Summaries will be posted for preview on Friday, July 10th. Please look your summary over when it is posted for preview to check for any errors and contact me ASAP to make corrections. Author information will be removed as claims are done blind. It’s okay if you’ve talked about your project already, just refrain from telling people which number your summary is once it is live!

Story Requirements

I am only looking for rough drafts, so it is okay if your story is still very rough at this point. I'm just checking for length and completion, which means your story does not need to be completely finished or polished, but around 60% of it needs to be done. This means that an author signed up for the 10k Traditional Bang must submit at least 6,000 words, and a 5k Mini-Bang author must submit at least 3,000 words.

If you are writing a story that will be significantly longer than the 5k/10k minimum, try to get as close to 60% finished as you can before submitting your rough draft, but I do understand that it may not be possible for a really long story! Please use your best judgement and decide for yourself if you can get your story finished by October, should you choose to work with a fanworker.

If you are submitting an incomplete draft, please be aware that it needs to have all the scenes at least outlined, including the ending. Your fanworker needs at least a few scenes to choose from so they can create their fanwork, after all! It will also be really important to communicate with your fanworker, in the case of a major story change!!!

Please read this carefully, as this is about the consequences of not being able to finish on time.

In previous years, once an author submitted a rough draft, they were required to finish or were subject to being banned from the Bang for the next year, and fanworkers, once they claimed a story had to create an accompanying fanwork, or they would be banned. This year, Traditional Path authors and artists will have a grace period to drop out, without consequence, after claims have passed. The final drop out date for Traditional groups is Saturday, August 1st. Participants that drop out after this date are subject to being banned. (If something major comes up in your life, just get in contact with me so we can discuss things together!)

If an artist drops out, I will arrange for a pinch hit artist for the author, should they wish to continue with an artist, or they can choose to go Solo. If an author drops out, artists are welcome to continue on as Solo, or they can claim a different story, if they so choose.

The final posting date is Sunday, November 30th, and any Traditional author/artist pair that does not post is subject to being banned from DCU Bang 2021. There is no penalty for dropping out before rough draft submissions or during the grace period, nor is there a penalty for switching to Solo Author prior to claims and being unable to finish. Tandem teams can drop out together at any time with no consequence. Once you are paired with an artist, please make sure that you can finish, as it is unfair to the artist if you cannot finish. This works the other way too! It's not fair to an author if the artist cannot finish!

If you are worried you cannot finish, or do not already have around 60% complete, but still want to continue writing, consider switching to the Solo Author track! Even if you don't complete your story by November 30th, there are no consequences. =D This way, you still get to share your story with the communities and have your story listed on the masterlists.

How to Submit Your Rough Draft:

-- Email your fic files to dcubang@gmail.com. -- I can accept the following file types: .doc, .docx, .rtf, and Google Docs. If submitting a Google Doc, share with dcubang@gmail.com with editing capabilities, otherwise I cannot verify the word count. If none of these file types work for you, contact me ASAP on Discord, or send an email to dcubang@gmail.com! Do not send a different file type without first contacting me! -- The subject line should say: Username ROUGH DRAFT - and include the username you used to sign up! -- In the body of the email, copy and paste the information below and fill it out, keeping the HTML tags. This is so I can quickly post summaries without having to format everyone's submission! Also, if submitting via Google Docs, you still have to email me with the following information filled out. If you need help with the HTML, please contact me. If it's not done correctly, I will ask you to redo it.

<b>Username:</b> (your username here) <b>Completed Percentage:</b> <b>Title:</b> <b>Word Count:</b> (At least 3k or 6k) <b>Genre:</b> (Action/Adventure, PWP, Fluff, etc) <b>Fandom/Universe:</b> <b>Characters/Pairings:</b> (Major characters/pairings only) <b>Warnings:</b> (e.g.: non con, mpreg, etc) <b>Rating:</b> (PG, NC-17, etc) <b>Summary:</b> (3-5 paragraphs)

-- Take your time with your summary! This is what artists are going to use to make a determination in their claims. Make sure to give enough information for potential artists to make decisions, but don't write so much that it is overwhelming. Here's a helpful post for writing artist summaries! Also keep in mind that this is a summary for attracting an artist, so the information you give might be very different from what you would want to give to a potential reader. The artist summary does not need to be the same one you use for your story later on! -- Make sure to be clear and thorough about trigger warnings so that artists will know what they are signing up for! You must put any and all warnings in this version of your summary, even if you decide to use an "author chooses not to warn" label later. Artists need to know what they are signing up for, after all, and we don't want artists, nor authors, unhappy with the match. Please warn for: noncon, dubcon, excessive or graphic violence, underage sex, incest, character death, and anything else that might be potentially problematic for a reader! Do not warn for slash, femslash, or het.

Once I receive your submission, I will be sending a confirmation email in return. If you do not get a confirmation email within 24 hours, please get in contact with me at either the DCU Discord server, emailing me at dcubang@gmail.com. If you have any other concerns or questions, please be sure to get in contact with me through any of those means as well!

The deadline to submit a rough draft is 23:59 MDT, Wednesday, July 8th!

[lokiondisneyplus]

Today I left the house wearing a face mask for the first time.

I had woken up to the sound of heavy rain, which is always surreal in Los Angeles, and when I look out of the window to the hauntingly dehumanising sight of bandana-clad dog walkers, an eerie weight settles as I remember: this is our reality now.

I’m standing in the supermarket queue, a line dotted by crosses taped on the floor of the underground car park to signify our designated 6ft distance. Easily 50 people long and snaking around the perimeter of the building, I make my way to the last available X-marks-the-spot and join the other masked Bandits. I haven’t food shopped for over a week and am in need of supplies.

There is an obnoxiously loud man two crosses ahead of me ranting into his phone with such a high energy, the surrounding Bandits have allowed an extended social distance of a cross on either side of him. I sigh, remembering I’ve left my headphones at home, so am unable to tune him out, I wait and exhale, wondering how I am going to get used to the claustrophobic sensation of hot air and fabric condensing on my face.

Loud Phone Man is not wearing a mask and it's clear we’ve passed the tipping point of mild judgement, at least here in LA, where Bandits exchange a raised eyebrow, (about the only non-verbal Bandit communication available) which somehow magnifies the annoyance of this shopper - not only loud, but breathing indiscriminately all over us in this confined space… what does he think this is? Last week??

It’s Monday on #Week4 of Covid-19 lockdown in La La Land and as I shuffle to the next X I reflect on the journey so far.

After a whirlwind press tour to promote the release of Misbehaviour in UK cinemas (sadly cinemas were shuttered just days after the film's theatrical release – but it's available to watch online at home from April 15th!) I returned to work in Atlanta for Loki, the Marvel limited series for Disney Plus I’ve been working on, so am on set when I get the news that we are going on hiatus as a precaution due to the accelerating coronavirus, initially for one week. Thinking it would be longer, but still unsure at that point, I book a flight to LA to sit things out there for the time being. The next day Trump imposes a travel ban on travelling in or out of the US for 30 days, and with my visa situation and the pace at which everything is moving, it feels risky to fly to the UK in case I cannot get back into the country when filming recommences, whenever that will be.

So, with my housemate and her dog for company, we embark on social distancing, self-isolation and Lady Macbeth-level hand-washing.

Managing a constant low-level anxiety about my parents and loved ones, and friends in New York, London, Johannesburg and all over the world, I become consumed by the news, glued to the BBC website and KCRW talk radio for the latest figures. Like families gathered around “the wireless” in wartime, everything is unfolding so rapidly and the news, never this dramatic in my lifetime, takes on disaster-movie proportions.

FaceTime and WhatsApp become my lifelines as the reality of the pandemic is tinged with a weird detachment… a numbness I later realise was a form of shock that lasts for nearly two weeks and puts me into a hyper-focused state as I race to keep up, stay informed and learn how to adapt to this new rhythm.

I am of course aware that I am so privileged to be safe and personally unaffected thus far, but grasping the truth from what is overblown, and fact from politics and propaganda, give everything an out-of-body zero gravity quality; a new normal we are all united in.

Things are kicking off in the food line as my attention is caught by an exasperated Valley Girl three Xs ahead who finally explodes at Loud Phone Man, “ OH MY GAAAAD, USE YOUR INSIDE VOICE, CANT YOU SEEEEE EVERYONE IS LOOKING AT YOU CAUSE YOU’RE TALKING SO LOUD… WE ALL HAVE TO STAND HERE, OHMYGAAAD!” As she stomps her Ugged feet to the next X the security guard and smiling store employee (no mask) approach and I can feel a repressed inside-voice-cheer emanate from the rest of the line in applause.

The Bandit Couple ahead of me raise another eyebrow in solidarity and Female Bandit begins to capture a video of Loud Phone Man on her iPhone. The air gets thin, the energy tightens, “Hey Man,” Smiling Store Employee intercepts, Security guard flanking, “You wanna keep it down a bit, people are stressed, y’know? Thanks Man.” Valley Girl scowls, Bandit couple exchange glances, while still filming, Loud Phone Man defends, “I WASN’T EVEN TALKING THAT LOUUUUUD!!!” (Collective Bandit eyeroll) “YESSSSS YOU WERE!!!” Hisses Valley Girl, “Yeah Man, sorry you were,” Store Employee placates. taking the referee stance. I notice Loud Phone Man is wearing flip-flops, on a rainy day. He continues his conversation into his device, phone held to his lips, like a dictaphone, barely any quieter. “We have to be prepared…”

I sigh and feel warm breath on my cheeks. Mouth drying I look at my phone for escape and see that Boris Johnson has been admitted into intensive care for persistent and worsening Covid-19 symptoms. I suddenly feel very far from home and very sad.

I remember the things I’ve been doing to keep grounded and my spirits up. One of the benefits of turning out old cupboards was rediscovering my long dormant art materials. Painting, such an absorbing and transporting activity for me in childhood, was once something I considered doing instead of acting, but found it a little socially isolating - so acting won because it felt more collaborative. Now, of course, painting in isolation is perfect and becomes the most comforting of pastimes and a creative channel as I make images of my family and feel like I am spending time with them.

Understanding how superfluous actors are in a crisis such as this, I come to terms with the fact that staying at home, as passive as it may seem, is my contribution for now. Having the luxury of not having to home-school any children and knowing my work is pretty much on pause until social distancing recedes, I try to reframe this time as a chance to rest and refill the creative well. I read novels for pleasure, something I rarely find time for beyond work-related reads. I take my first Zoom yoga class (alexdawsonyoga.com), I join a 21-day online meditation experience (chopracentermediation.com), I take local hikes for fresh air and make first ever batches of banana bread and chicken soup. I even buy a mini trampoline online which, after a mildly challenging self-assembly, I’ve been sweating it out on to streamed classes online (lekfit.com) with a friend in Toronto, followed by accountability FaceTime coffee dates to virtually high five!

By the end of week two, the adrenalin crash truly hits and I’m exhausted from the constant rhythm shifting, news consumption and uncertainty. I’m an eternal optimist and good at self-motivating, but even when you’re Keeping Calm and Carrying on, you need to crash at some point. I nearly cry when I get my mum an Ocado food delivery slot - nothing has been available for weeks - and the “what ifs” that I have been keeping at bay with all my other activities release with relief and gratitude.

That’s when I discover Brené Brown’s new podcast Unlocking Us and find such solace in her calm and thoroughly researched words and conversations. Since her TED talk fame as a charismatic shame and vulnerability researcher, I’ve read all of her books and there is always something practical and nourishing in her work, told with humour and in a deeply relatable way - which I’ve found comfort in while in the midst of folding laundry, cleaning the bath or chopping vegetables.

Back in the food line and things are moving; the tension of the Loud Phone Man Vs Valley Girl dispute still simmers but everyone relaxes as they get closer to the front-door finish line. Smiling Store Employee does his speech on the new system: no reusable bags allowed, sanitised trollies and a one-way system in the aisles inside marked by arrows on the floor, to minimise contact with other customers. It all feels so surreal and regimented, but the Bandits, already drained from the 30-minute wait, constant Loud Phone Man soundtrack, near car park fight and everything else they’re all adjusting to, nod wearily behind their moist makeshift masks. It’s a bizarre sight.

Still chatting, Loud Phone Man makes it in and there’s a collective “phew” eye-contact exchanged between Smiling Store Employee and the remaining Bandits. Then his smile drops and crinkles for a second. “Yeah, he’s been in every day this week. It’s kinda sad. There’s no one on the phone.” The Bandits' brows knot quizzically. “Yeah, I think he has mental health issues, he just talks but the phone’s not on and he has no ear pieces, he just talks into it… 'They’re coming, we have to be prepared.'… I don’t know what to do.”

The reality breaks my heart. It seems to highlight the collective insanity we’ve all been processing and in that moment I just feel so frustrated at the state of the world and how this pandemic has exposed so many cracks in our society - from mental health to healthcare to privilege and poverty, everything just feels so raw.

I try to look for the silver linings and, among all the fear and anxiety and loss, I’ve been so inspired by human resilience, adaptability and creativity. I’m hopeful this great pandemic leveller will bring a new era of authenticity. An opportunity to shift mentality from Me to We.

Week three in self-isolation felt almost normal, which feels weird to admit. I’m getting lots of sleep and take regular meditative baths, which I’ve renamed Home Spa. I’ve found ways to safely contribute in my local community. When the shelves were bare from panic buying, I chatted with the manager of our local grocery store, who seemed so overwhelmed, so my housemate and I volunteered to stack shelves after hours. Although not exactly the front lines, we have fun and it feels good to give something back in our small way.

We of course negotiated to be paid in baked beans and toilet paper.

[long-after-love]

Some personal ramblings on love/marriage

(This is actually a non-Beatles post, even though I relate this story to Lennon/McCartney, which is funny)

The other day, I learned something about my cousin. Thanks to anonymity I can tell everything here.

Let's just call him Steve and his wife Anna. An admirable, hard-working, very likable man. His wife is a beautiful and sweet lady whom I also have massive respect for. They have two beautiful children, one boy and one girl. The boy inherits his dad's quick wit and his mom's fair complexion. The girl had her father's intense eyes and her mom's gentle charm. I have never known any family that looks so pretty and wholesome, they are the sort that you see in commercials – a bit too perfect to be true. 

Steve is never really close to me, but we are on great terms when we meet. Anna likes me as well. They used to invite me to join them on family trip when I was younger. I looked after the boy and the girl, so that they could have some private couple moments. Steve was openly sweet to his wife, and Anna held his hand all the time. The kids would run around me, laughing out loud at nothing as kids would. I felt like I was watching a movie.

And just recently, everybody in my extended family was shocked to find out that Steve had an illegitimate child that he has supported in secret for more than ten years now. His mistress could not compare with Anna in any way, and the most absurd thing was he wasn't even in love with her. Now everybody are asking, "Why, Steve? Why?" and I could imagine that even Steve was unable to explain it. 

Last week, I called my sister in Australia to ask about her current situation amidst Covid-19 and of course we talked about Steve's little scandal. Here I have to provide some background about her, and my family background. She is a single mom, and she is closer to Steve than anyone in my extended family. When she divorced her husband, my parents were so against it because they thought that she was selfish and the child needed a mom and a dad. My parents were old-fashioned that way – I think they were not wrong from where they stood, back when they had my sister and me. I never thought of my parents as a very loving couple. They rarely fought, but they had zero romantic vibe. I always had the impression that they stayed married because of me and my sister, not because they were in love.

I’ve realized that my mother and my father never ever taught me about sex, and as long as I could remember they’ve never shared the same bed. They did not even have a wedding photo. I guess it was because they were very poor and could not afford to take a photo of that day, but they didn’t even have couple photo either. They had to be with someone else in any photo al all: with me and my sister, or relatives, or in a group photo of friends and acquaintances. My father is a stern, quiet man and my mother is a nurturing, traditional woman. I could understand their love and their bond, but I can’t feel it. Their love was mutually built on their devotion to their kids, aka my sister and me, so to me it was a culmination of shared responsibility, understanding, appreciation, respect and most important, mutual sacrifice. I never saw any true moment of romance between them, I have never, ever seen my parents kissing ever. 

Love and sex in my household was a taboo subject – when I was younger my parents did not want me to have a boyfriend, and then when I got older they wanted me to get married and have kids as soon as possible. 

It sounds a bit ridiculous but I discovered love through The Beatles, and their songs were, in a way, painted my outlook for love. Of course, after all these years consuming other kinds of art I’ve established for myself a far more detailed concept of love, but it is The Beatles that gave me the rough idea. Some might say they were just four young lads singing pop songs about love just like every other pop song out there – I agree with them, at the time they did, and I am sure they didn’t think much about what they were writing – they only wanted to sound good and sell a few records after all. However, I don’t think they were fully aware of their extraordinary talent and their unprecedented influence at the time – such are the stuff that only those with the gift of hindsight like us can see. The Beatles would never know that decades later their songs still changed the life of a little girl in Vietnam for good. Loving The Beatles set me apart not just from my peers then when I was 12, and in a way, I alienated myself from my surrounding because of that. I started drifting away from my parents’ influence consciously (but of course on an unconscious level they still have their influence on me), and became an aberration – not just within the household, but also later on at school or in the workplace, however, I don’t consider being different means I am special, useful, or deserve anything better. Being different is just being different.

Back to the topic of my parents, perhaps my sister felt the same way as I do – we were living in a household where any discussion of love and sex was shadow banned after all. The nearest ideal we can look up to, was Steve’s family. They were the pinnacle of success and domestic bliss. However, before this scandal happened only my sister knew that everything was far from perfect – I happened to realize that she become Anna’s close friend after her divorce. And of course, she wasn’t so surprised about Steve’s illegitimate child at all. 

Through my sister I’ve learned about Steve and Anna’s story. 

Steve and Anna were classmates, and they had been dating for more than 7 years before the marriage. It was 7 years of an on-off relationship. I don’t know anything about Anna, but Steve, at one point, fell in love with another girl (let’s call her Sarah) and even proposed to her. Sarah’s parents did not approve their relationship because they much preferred Anna, and Steve’s parents were against the idea of having Sarah as daughter-in-law as well. Now I need to tell you that I’m from an Asian country where a woman doesn’t simply get married to her husband, she marries the family of her husband as well, so many women have to live with parent-in-laws. Steve’s and Sarah’s families are way too different and they could not stand each other. Due to fierce objections from both sides, they had to break up.

Sarah was still madly in love with Steve then, that even before the wedding she came to meet Anna, and asked her to let him go. My sister told me:

“Steve said that Sarah still saw him one week before the wedding. She told Anna that Steve loved her, and he nodded. It was the worst experience in his life -  having to confront these two women about his feelings. About four or three days later, Anna called Sarah’s parents, begged them to intervene. Sarah’s father had a terrifying meeting with Steve’s family, demanded Steve to break up with Sarah for good and never see her again, because he was supposed to marry Anna and Sarah, of course, would ultimately have to marry someone else as well. After getting married to Anna, Steve had fell into depression in 3 months. He could not sleep, he got up at 3 am just to sit on the roof and smoke or take a walk outside until he had to leave home for work. Finally he got himself together, because he could not just throw his life away – he was the only son of the family and his parents had so much hope in him (once again, where I live, parents valued their sons more than daughters, and women are but a lost cause – it’s an East Asian thing especially for countries being heavily influenced by Confucian’ philosophy). He put on a façade for nearly twenty years. It’s not that he didn’t love Anna – he loves Anna because she is the mother of his kids, he admires her effort and patience, her decision to stick with him despite all the things he did behind her back. He owes her a happy family. He acts out that kind of love publicly and proudly because that is what his conscience forced him to do. On the other hand there is always a vacuum inside him, he longs for the kind of love he had with Sarah and found the ghosts of it in his affairs. The illegitimate child was his accident, he have been quietly supporting the mom and the kid – however due to Covid-19 he cannot make as much money as he could and the financial support was dwindling. The woman was furious, so she decided to expose him. However, Anna still forgave her husband, as she did many times before in silence.” 

I asked my sister if she knew what Sarah was doing now. She said she didn’t know, but according to Steve, Sarah also got married about one month after his wedding. Perhaps that deepened his depression back then, he was shocked that she could find someone so quickly – however, that was the way it should be. He deleted her number, never contacted her again. He said he wouldn’t want the present to mess with the image of Sarah in his mind, and probably Sarah had done the same thing.

Now I’ve come to a point in my life, where I believe that anything can happen. I’m not too surprised that some weird shit happened, I’m just surprised that it happened under my nose. Even in my own relationship with my partner, sometimes I don’t understand what was going on without asking for other people’s different accounts on our relationship. There are so many things we could not tell each other, but from the outside, people could feel it. Then again there are things we want people to see, however true the opposite of them are. We did not lie when we were showing how in love we were, but we were not entirely genuine either.

It is never black and white. But of course, it is also never the perfect balance of black and white or an unanimous grey.

[fanfichideout]

Chapter Two - The Floating Hat

“Gah…!!!” Misthel exclaims loudly in frustration after she discovers that they just passed the same silly big rock, that they had already passed nine times now! Nyzz sighs tiredly at Misthels sudden outburst and climbs up on the big rock. 

Nyzz’s height didn’t make it any easier for her… she couldn’t see or spot anything up there…except for those tall trees blocking the view. Nyzz lets out a defeated sigh and slides slowly down the rock, and is now leaning her back against it in a resting position. While Misthel keeps muttering frustrated to herself. 

Nyzz is about to fall asleep, when Misthel suddenly hears something rummage nearby and pulls Nyzz up on her feet and gestures to her with a silent hand movement, that she should stay close by. Nyzz tiredly fights to keep her eyes from closing and rubs them repeatedly with her tiny hands. 

Misthel  wants to get closer to the source of the sounds and pulls Nyzz with her once again. Making Nyzz grumble a bit annoyed at Misthels sudden need to explore further into the forest. 

Suddenly Misthel halts, causing Nyzz to almost trip by the shift. There between the trees, on the other side of the thickly grown bushes is a…. floating hat? Misthel is immediately intrigued and throwing all caution to the wind, not to mention forgetting about the fact it could be dangerous, rushes after it! 

Nyzz is sure that if Misthel keeps this up, her arm will be ripped out of its socket! Luckily in her hurry to catch up, Misthels grip loosens and Nyzz’s arm is free! Not that Nyzz had much time to enjoy this seeing as Misthel is rushing off, ducking and jumping over any obstical in her way…. How in the world is this clumsy, reckless elf suddenly so graceful?! Normally she would have ended up face first in a bush or running into a tree! Nyzz thinks to herself, as she tries to stretch out her arm after being dragged a few miles. 

Finally Misthel catches up to the hat, there is now only some thick bushes between them. Nyzz catches up and walks over calmly only to see Misthel on top of a fallen tree trunk, on her toes, stretching in an attempt to grab the hat from over the tall bushes. This plan quickly fails as Nyzz lets out a loud yawn, catching not only Misthels attention as she falls back landing on her ass, but it seemed to also have stopped the magical hat in its tracks. Misthel and Nyzz looks between the hat and each other, not really sure what their next move should be, however Mistel soon realises that this is her chance and quickly jumps through the bush, grabbing the hat and holding it up in victory! 

Nyzz cautiously walks after Misthel, nervous of what mess the elf had caused now. Nyzz then looks up to see an elderly man in grey robes looking shocked between her and the female elf who was now……… doing what appears to be a victory dance? While she is holding the hat tightly in her grip. Nyzz is both amused and slightly embarrassed of the scene happening before her. 

The elderly man lets out a forced cough, catching Misthel off guard and causing her to freeze on the spot for a few seconds, before she turns around to face the two. Misthel attempts hurriedly to hide the hat behind her back, even though they not only knew she had it, but they could also see it poking out from behind her on both sides.

Much to Misthels disappointment, Nyzz somehow convinces her to return the hat to its owner. “I’m still believe I should keep it! After all i did find it!” Misthel claims as she hands it back to the elderly man, who now stands in front of her. “Perhaps, but you did happen to find it on top of my head!” the elderly man says with a slightly amused undertone. “Allow me to introduce myself, I am Gandalf the Grey! Now if you don’t mind me asking, what could two young ladies such as yourselves be doing out here in the woods?” The elderly man, whose name apparently is Gandalf, asks them kindly. 

As Nyzz opens her mouth to answer she is stopped by a hand covering her face “ Don’t answer that Nyzz! It might be a trick!” Misthel tells her before letting go of her petite face. “Listen old man! How do we know we can trust you? We are not telling you our names or anything until you prove you're trustworthy!” Misthel exclaims to the old man, not even realizing she just indirectly told him Nyzz’s name. Nyzz however looks unimpressed and shakes her head at the foolish elf. Gandalf lets out a low chuckle as he looks between the two, he does recognise the young elf as the daughter of an old friend, although the small woman besides her was new to him, but something about her seems familiar...

“You truly are Lord Elrond’ daughter!” Gandalf laughs and Misthel’s face gets slightly paler, if that's even possible, at the mention of her ada. “Y-you know my ada?....wait you know who i am?!” She questions him. “Most people who have traveled the realms of the elves have heard of Elrond's youngest.” He explains still highly amused. “Is this because I’m shorter than the other elves?! Because for your information I could still grow old man!” Misthel yells in her defence, even though, both of them knew there was no chance of that happening.

“Never mind that, now what is you and your friend doing wandering out here in the forest? I can’t imagine your father being very happy with all of this… or perhaps he does not know?” Gandalf questions slightly annoyed at the nickname, and clearly already knowing how her father feels about her being outside Rivendell, especially without supervision.

“Well first i was in a carriage, because ada banned me from trying to ride a horse due to an incident that happened when I was small, anyways then we got attacked by these ugly, big, gross and nasty orcs that the guards chased after. Then the one who was left to protect me ended up being asleep on the ground, completely unrelated to the fact, that I hit him with the door, so then I had noone and nothing to protect me. The only logical thing then was to hide in the forest, which was also kinda gross with all those large and nasty bugs, then i saw something shiny and ended up in this dark cave! There I found this crystal made of ice, and of course I did the only logical thing ever!” Misthel explains hurriedly, as she makes a lot of hand gesturing during her ramble … not noticing Nyzz and Gandalf just standing a safe distance away to avoid getting hit, staring at her with blank expressions on their faces.

“I poked it! And suddenly... I’m blinded by light! And once i regained my sight, as you know elfs eyes are pretty sensitive, there was a tiny person!” Misthel’s ramble is paused for a second as she pulls Nyzz infront of her, which made Nyzz let out a tiny squeak - clearly unprepared.

“I didn't know what she was and she didn't know what she was? It was very odd! But then I realised she HAS to be a hobbit, therefore I named her, cause she didn't have a name label on her! Like your parents put on their children..., you know?” Misthel says as she looks questionly at Gandalf before she continues, not letting anyone else getting a chance to interrupt her. 

“My ada still does it because he’s convinced I’ll wander off…. which I do... but still!” Misthel said slightly embarrassed by the sudden topic and tries to shake it off with a certain haste.  

“Anyways I named her and now we were... well, we are... on our way towards the shire! You see my ada told me that's where hobbits live! So I thought it would be a great place to start and see if anyone is looking for her there!” Misthel finally finishes the long ramble looking excitedly at the wizard.

“Seems like quite the adventure the two of you are on then, I myself was on my way to the shire just now!” Gandalf comments as he starts to smoke on his pipe. “Do you think we can travel with you then? I’m pretty sure we were going in the opposite direction, before Misthel here... started to follow your hat.” Nyzz asks looking hopefully at Gandalf, no longer trusting Misthel to lead them in the right direction...or letting the silly elf forget their goal within an hour to rush off after something else... that might end up being their death...

“Wait! Old man, you wouldn’t happen to know her, would you?! And if neither you nor anyone in the shire are looking for her, do you think I can keep her? After all I WAS the one who found her!” Misthel asks, which only causes Gandalf to look at her weirdly, and sigh at the nickname that once again appears. He isn’t THAT old! He thinks to himself and tries his best to hide his annoyance. 

“I’m afraid this young lady and I haven’t met before today...” He says before turning to Nyzz “And I certainly wouldn’t mind the company on this journey!” He tells her, which causes Nyzz to sigh shortly in relief and then beam with joy, which makes Gandalf chuckle at the sight before getting interrupted by a certain elf...

  “In that case let’s continue!” Misthel exclaims happily and starts walking….. in the direction of which Gandalf just came from. After a few meters, she realises that she can’t hear the others following her…? She then looks back over her shoulder to see them, still standing in the same spot, just staring at her…

“What...?” She asks a bit confused over their passive behavior. “I’m afraid the Shire is in this direction.” Gandalf explains and points in the opposite direction. “No! It is not! It's this way! …Just ask Nyzz! I’m great at leading people the right way!” Misthel says, looking at Nyzz for backup, but Nyzz just avoids eye contact, not wanting to hurt the elfs feelings but also unable to agree with the preposterous statement.

“You know what? Fine! But the two of you better not come crying to me! When you end up getting us lost old man!” Misthel grumbles clearly provoked, before she walks past them in the right direction. Nyzz and Gandalf shares an amused and slightly worried look before accompanying the stubborn elf...

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                                 !❤ ! (>’o’)>”Bootylicious”<(’o’<) !❤! 

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And the adventure is slowly starting, be excited for the next part! We are ;)