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reinvent-and-believe · 4 years

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48 from dialogue prompts + 50 from wordless i-love-yous for geraskier?

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

It catches Geralt’s eye while he haggles over an outrageously priced jar of alchemy paste with a none-too-impressed herbalist on the outskirts of Novigrad, a buxom widow with thick-braided auburn hair by the name of Irmina.

“This for sale too?” He picks up the brooch from the countertop where it rests in a beam of golden light streaming through a dingy window. He examines it. It’s simple enough metalwork, a brass oval with a scalloped edge, but inlaid in its face is a single pressed yellow flower framed by tiny white blooms encased in resin.

The herbalist’s dour demeanour brightens immediately. “It is indeed!” she answers, her brown eyes shining in a plump, suddenly pleasant face. “Made it myself just last week. It’s something of a hobby of mine, making pretty knick-knacks from the flowers we can’t sell. Got plenty more like this if you’d like to peruse ‘em, master witcher! Forget-me-nots and arenaria, hellebore, violets, any flower you might like.”

A buttercup, he realizes belatedly. That’s the yellow flower in the center.

“No.” He sees Irmina’s brow furrow in offense, so he hastens to appease her. “No need, I’ll take this one. I...I’m partial to buttercups.”

Her freckled face breaks into a sly, knowing smile. “Oh, aye, I’m sure someone is partial to buttercups.” She winks, waving away his stammered attempts at an answer. “Never you mind, I know a man besotted when I see one, and it seems a witcher’s not so different. Tell you what. Fifty crowns for the paste and I’ll throw the brooch in for only ten.”

Leaving the herbalist’s shop with an overpriced paste, a lighter purse, and a useless trinket, Geralt curses himself for a fool.

He’s not sure why he bought it.

He knows buttercups are Jaskier’s favorite, of course. “None but the noblest of flowers for my sobriquet!” Jaskier had squawked indignantly when Geralt once made the grave mistake of referring to the pesky things as weeds after he’d stopped Roach from chomping on a patch of the bright, poisonous blooms.

They are weeds, buttercups. They serve no function. They can’t be used in any of the potions, decoctions, or oils Geralt brews, nor do they have any particularly helpful curative properties for humans.

“As ever, my dear witcher, you have no sense of poetry,” Jaskier had sighed in a most put-upon voice when told as much. “Their function is they’re pretty. Their function is to enrich our lives through the beauty of the natural world.” He’d looked to the sky, tip of his tongue between his teeth showing through his frown as was his custom when puzzling through the right way to turn a phrase. “From a strictly utilitarian perspective, perhaps the buttercup has less value than, say, moleyarrow, or verbena, or chamomile, even. Some plants provide nutritional or medicinal or alchemical qualities of various sorts. But some exist to make life worth living! To transform the banal into the sublime.” He’d plucked a buttercup from the roadside, twirling it between his long fingers. “It’s graceful and balanced, effortlessly beautiful. It’s vibrant, bright like...like sunlight, on a summer afternoon! And when you see it growing alongside the various and sundry flora, it fills you with the loveliest burst of warmth, like a lover’s smile.”

“So...it’s a pretty weed.”

“You’re incorrigible, witcher, that’s what you are.” Jaskier had huffed dramatically before tucking the buttercup behind Geralt’s ear, his face alight with a delighted grin.

Like sunlight on a summer afternoon.

The Kingfisher Inn is crowded when Geralt arrives. He goes to the bar, orders an ale from Olivier, and leans against the counter to take a look at the stage.

Jaskier loves playing the Kingfisher. In many of the inns he plays across the Continent, he’s relegated to a corner to try to sing over the clang of dinner, his only option to win the common folk over a raucous drinking song or a filthy ditty. And while the bard doesn’t shy away from such vulgarities, the patrons of the Kingfisher tend to be of a more artistically inclined ilk, responding with appropriate gusto to the virtuosic art songs that he rarely performs outside of competitions or Oxenfurt.

Or so he’d explained to Geralt when he’d suggested they meet up at the inn.

Jaskier sits atop a tall stool on a rather large stage framed by crimson curtains, his sky-blue doublet a vivid contrast. The audience, enraptured, listens to his ballad, a melancholy tale of a fair maiden who’s violently killed before she can profess her love to a farmhand in her village, a beautiful, strong, kind man whose hair shines like a blaze of pale fire in the sunlight. Her love for him tethers her to this world, and her spirit—bitter, weary, and endlessly yearning—calls the men working in the fields to join her dance at midday, when the sun is in its zenith, hoping against hope for the chance to finally confess to her beloved.

In the end, the brave, noble farmhand sacrifices himself, hoping to stop the spirit’s killings by listening to her song and joining her as she beckons. And as they are reunited, as she finally kisses the lips she’s longed for in a blinding blaze of sunlight, they pass on together, their spirits becoming one.

It’s a contract Geralt worked a few years ago, a noonwraith outside Oreton—or at least something close. As ever, Jaskier has taken artistic liberties, romanticized the actual events (“Sometimes, in our pursuit of Truth, we must sacrifice the facts,” Jaskier loftily explained on more than one occasion. He seemed quite taken with the profundity he seemed to find in the statement. Geralt called it pretentious once and Jaskier hurled a chunk of bread at his head). Once it might have bothered Geralt, but he’s grown accustomed to Jaskier’s rather malleable relationship with veracity in his ballads. There’s no denying the impact of his storytelling: when Geralt glances around the inn, he sees several patrons discreetly dabbing at their eyes.

It’d been an ugly case, leaving him feeling empty, drained. Noonwraiths haunt his thoughts far longer than most the monsters he dispatches. They’re victims of circumstance more than anything, young women who’ve been transformed into bloodthirsty, violent spirits through no fault of their own, through the violence inflicted upon them. Nearly forty men had fallen prey to her before the farmhand distracted her with his kiss—though Geralt would hesitate to classify his grotesque, gruesome sacrifice as such—so the witcher had a chance to strike her down with silver. Jaskier has spun the miserable tale into something beautiful, moving, something that clearly resonates with his captivated audience, that speaks to a greater force at work than the chaotic, banal evils the witcher sees every day, and Geralt thinks he understands, for a moment, what the bard had told him of Truth and facts.

(Geralt doesn’t know what greater Truth is served by changing the beloved farmhand’s hair from the dull brown it really was to “a blaze of pale fire,” but then, Geralt’s not a poet.)

The final notes hang in the air, all eyes fixed on Jaskier for a rapt, breathless moment before the room bursts into wild applause. Jaskier stands and bows deeply, once, twice, a third time, surveying the room as he offers his thanks. When his gaze catches Geralt at the bar, his expression of showman’s grace vanishes, a flash of something that looks almost alarmed for a split second before it’s replaced by a small, gentle smile.

Geralt nods and raises his mug toward the stage in cheers, draining the remainder. Jaskier is quickly swept into the swarm of captivated fans, accepting their praises with a gracious, if distracted, smile.

The witcher turns back to the barkeep to order himself another ale along with a glass of wine.

“Geralt!” Jaskier swerves to avoid a near-collision with a frenzied barmaid on his way to join his companion at the bar. He grabs the wine glass with a groan of appreciation, taking a swig before asking, “Is this for me? Gods, but you’re a marvel, darling, I thank you.” He takes another sip and sends a disarming, roguish wink to a pair of girls staring at him and giggling to each other. “I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive, but it wouldn’t have mattered, I suppose, they only had one room to let when I checked in and it hasn’t cleared out since. You’ll share mine, of course, but I’ve been here a week so, you know, best brace yourself, I’ve quite made the place my own.”

Geralt snorts. He’s stayed in enough rooms that Jaskier has made his own over the past decade to predict with some certainty what mess he’ll soon venture into.

(Doublets draped over furniture after they’ve been discarded; crumpled sheets of paper tossed near, never in the fireplace; a few near-empty bottles of wine; a shirt hung to dry over the modesty screen between the sleeping and bathing areas; bottles of a dozen oils and perfumes and soaps scattered haphazard near the tub; an unmade bed that may well contain an abandoned undergarment or forgotten stocking left by some well-satisfied guest.)

“Have you eaten? Shall we? I’m starved, felt jittery all afternoon and didn’t eat a damned thing which was all well and good until I got onstage and suddenly wished for a fainting couch. Or we could take your things up to the room first, of course. Oh! We could have them bring our dinner up to us, it’s awfully crowded down here tonight and I’m not sure I’m up to socializing all evening, to be honest, I’ve been dreadfully out of sorts, did you notice, Geralt, that I’ve…”

Jaskier continues his ramblings, and the witcher can’t help a twinge of worry for his friend. It’s not unheard of for Jaskier to be in a heightened state over a particularly important performance, but usually afterwards the nerves dissipate and he seems more himself. Not to mention, why would playing in an inn prompt such anxieties? Even if the Kingfisher clientele trends toward the more refined than the country folk he often plays for, it’s still rather a low-stakes environment to trigger such stress.

“New song?” he asks casually. Jaskier always beams when he notices such things, when he makes an effort to ask about his music.

Instead, Jaskier blushes, looking away with an expression that almost seems guilty. “Ah, yes, well, I wasn’t certain when you’d be arriving, of course, I thought I might try out something different, a sort of test audience, as it were, to feel out the piece before I use it for anything important.” The look he’s fixed on Geralt seems almost wary. “Did you...like the song?”

Geralt shrugs. “Not quite how it happened,” he grumbles, out of habit more than anything.

A smile, genuine and rueful, breaks out on Jaskier’s face. “Gods, I’ve missed you, my friend,” he says, shaking his head and looking away quickly.

“Hmm.” He reaches quickly into the coin pouch at his side, thrusting the trinket from the herbalist into Jaskier’s hand with a brusque, “Here.”

“Whatever have we got…” He cuts off as opens his palm. “Oh.”

There have been so few times over the years that Geralt has seen Jaskier speechless that he begins to worry he’s offended him. He turns the brooch over in his hands, once, twice, his thumb swiping gently over its smooth enamel face. He doesn’t look up.

Even in the crowded room, Geralt can smell the shift in his demeanor, the muted sickly-sweet anxious smell becoming something sharp, metallic, pained, like he’s been stabbed. “You’re upset.”

“I...no.” Jaskier shoves the brooch into his trouser pocket, a tense smile on his face, not at all reaching his eyes. “Thank you, Geralt, it’s lovely. Shall we take your bags to the room now?”

“I didn’t...I didn’t get it to upset you.”

Jaskier laughs, a broken thing, and Geralt grows even more alarmed. “You didn’t, it isn’t that, sometimes I want things I can’t have is all.” He grabs the saddlebag sitting at Geralt’s feet, not meeting his eyes as he rushes past him up the stairs to the last bedroom in the hall.

Geralt follows after a moment, giving his companion a respectful distance. There’s a tightness in his shoulders, a knot in his gut that only grows as he watches Jaskier’s hand tremble on the key as he unlocks the door.

It was a stupid idea. He knew it was stupid when he bought it, yet he bought it anyway, somehow ruined everything anyway.

“Here we are.” Jaskier’s voice is filled with a forced cheer as he sets the bag down, hand never leaving the doorknob. “I’ll go fetch us some supper. Or, actually, you know, now that I think of it, I’ve a few errands to run before it gets too late, meant to do it earlier but you know how it goes, lost track of time…”

“Jaskier.” Geralt moves toward him but stops himself, helpless. “Please. I’m sorry I upset you.”

Jaskier stands in the doorway for another moment. He takes a deep breath, closes the door, and walks slowly to the writing desk in the corner. He pulls the chair out, moving the doublet strewn across it before sitting. He doesn’t look at Geralt.

“You didn’t.” Every word is calculated, deliberate. “What kind of ungrateful wretch gets upset over...over an exceptionally thoughtful gift from a friend after a time apart?”

Geralt sits on the edge of the bed. His elbows rest on his knees, fingers locking together as he stares at the floor. “You’re not a wretch. The fault is mine.”

“Dammit, Geralt, there isn’t fault, I only—why did you bring me a gift?”

Geralt frowns. “I’ve bought you things before,” he says slowly.

“Things, yes!” Jaskier vaults from the chair, pacing listlessly about the room, no longer trying to mask his inexplicable distress. “Lute strings when I broke a string and I was low on coin. The lute is my livelihood, it made financial sense for you to replace the string so I could pull my own weight, help you when we pass through several towns in a row with no contracts. Boots when you noticed the hole in the heel of my old pair, because I slow you down limping about in footwear that’s falling apart. Room and board, sometimes, because you know I’m good for it, I’ll cover you the next time.” He’s stopped pacing, stares silent into the fireplace.

“Wasn’t keeping a tab.” Geralt’s voice is quiet. “You needed strings and boots and food and a room.”

Jaskier doesn’t turn to face him, but Geralt sees his hand slip into his pocket, pull out the brooch. His head bends, studying it.

He’s not offended or annoyed or angered by the gift. He’s hurt. But why?

Except...

Jaskier looked guilty when Geralt brought up the song. Like he’d been caught red-handed. Did you like it? he’d asked. Incredulous.

The noonwraith singing her song in hopes that her beloved hears her confession. That he’ll hear her song of longing and come to her.

Hair like a blaze of pale fire, not dull brown.

Sometimes I want things I can’t have.

“Geralt?”

The witcher snaps back to attention, eyes fixed on Jaskier, finally facing him.

“Why did you get it for me, Geralt?”

Geralt frowns. “It’s...pretty,” he starts lamely. “I thought you might wear it when you play. You wear gaudy things.”

Jaskier snorts, a small, crooked grin on his lips.

“It made me think of you,” he confesses quietly, his eyes tracing the wood grain of the floor. “Sometimes...things don’t have to have a function. It was a buttercup and it was pretty and it…made me think of you.”

When Geralt dares to raise his eyes, Jaskier’s staring at him, brows drawn together and mouth slightly agape. After a moment, he walks toward the witcher, sitting carefully beside him on the bed. He reaches his hand towards Geralt’s and presses the little brooch into his palm.

“Will you pin it on me?” he asks softly.

Geralt nods.

His fingers feel thick and clumsy as he fumbles with the delicate clasp. The top few buttons of Jaskier’s doublet, as ever, are undone, but it closes neatly just beneath his exposed neck. Geralt slips a finger beneath the satin fabric to pull it away from his throat, cautiously piercing the fabric with the thin pin and sliding it into its slot, locking the clasp with shaking hands.

His hand doesn’t move from Jaskier’s chest. A sword-calloused thumb, seemingly of its own volition, grazes lightly over the bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Geralt.”

He looks up, almost pulls away but for the flushed cheeks, the tongue that darts out to wet pink lips, the hooded eyes beneath dark lashes fixed on Geralt’s mouth. Jaskier’s breath is warm against his face. When did they draw so close?

“Are you going to kiss me, Geralt?” The breathy whisper is laced with wonder.

And he didn’t...didn’t buy the brooch to entice Jaskier into anything, didn’t mean to solicit any sort of reward, and he opens his mouth to tell him so, yet as his rough hand moves to gently cup the back of Jaskier’s neck the words that tumble out instead are, “I’d like to.”

And Jaskier throws back his head and laughs, a euphoric, intoxicated sound, as his lovely hands cradle Geralt’s face. He brings his forehead to rest against Geralt’s as they still, breathing each other for a moment before Jaskier surges forward to capture his lips.

His kiss tastes like sunlight.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fic #the witcher #my fic #anon asks #prompt fill #thank you so much for this absolutely lovely prompt!!!!! i'm so sorry it took me months to actually filling it!!!

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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afterdeath | lucas

title: afterdeath pairing: vampire!lucas x fairy!reader genre: angst, forbidden romance, fantasy, vampire!au request: May I request a Vampire!Lucas with a fairy!s/o (Forbidden romance perhaps?) word count: 8.6k warnings: descriptions of death and sickness, mentions of a funeral, viewing, and funerary preparations, major character death (but...with a slight twist), mentions of blood and drinking blood, smoking cigarettes, arguments/conflict, mentions of physical violence, some romeo and juliet elements? a/n: hmm this fic probably could’ve been more detailed but i was trying to avoid triggering my own damn self with so much talk of death...ha...not sure why i went this route but i wanted a forbidden romance with an actual decent ending for both characters and this was the first idea i had recommended songs: OLLA - jhené aiko

Year 1508

“We’ve felled the demon!”

“Indeed, we have!”

Cheers ring through the dawn as a large group of fairies dance around an immense bonfire, raising their shouts of celebration to the sky. Within the fire burns the body of the Primitiva Vampire, the One and Only Pureblood, haphazardly thrown over the wood pile and relieved of her head—which sits near the bottom of the burning mass of wood, her face still twisted in a mien of anger.

As the sky begins turning lighter with the onset of sunrise, the fairies continue their celebration, staying close to the fire all the while. They carry large flaming torches to guard against any of the Primitiva Vampire’s followers who might try to sneak upon them and strike in that sliver of space where the sun has yet to rise.

The Primitiva Vampire had a long reign of terrorizing fairies and turning humans and other supernatural creatures into vampires. Each transformed being became a terrible revenant, one which viciously hunted villages and stole into people’s homes for more blood, more death, and more unwilling adherents to the vampiric cult.

Mass numbers of fairies had been decimated once the vampires first tasted their blood and took a unique liking to it. For over 200 years, the carnage continued on at the hand of the Primitiva Vampire, who had one day blinked into existence in a way that could never really be explained by any conceivable means, either human or magic. And without ever giving a hint to her strange conception, she tore across cities and towns, converting others into night creatures like herself and building a loyal following of half-bedeviled beings.

When fairy populations had dwindled to nearly extinction-level quantities, they were left no other choice—fight back or be wiped completely from the universe’s ledger. So they took up arms, honed their magic skills, and did just that.

And now, all their efforts culminate in this blood-stained morning. It marks a much-anticipated moment of revelry before they have to return to their posts to watch for the night creatures inevitably waiting on the other side of the sunset, ready to avenge their slain Goddess.

Present Day

“You probably shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I wanted to come,” Lucas replies, taking your hand is his large one. “I wanted to see you.”

“I can figure that.” You laugh quietly, a little afraid to let your voice rise higher in case it carries too far. “But that doesn’t mean you should’ve come.”

Lucas holds your hand tightly. His skin is cold against yours due to his slow blood, and colder still from the chill permeating the air. It’s only one of many vampiric traits that the other fairies would think of as strange or barbaric, but you don’t see it that way. The chilliness just reminds you solely of him.

“Well, I missed you. And I’m here now, so you’ll just have to deal with me.”

The building you’re standing behind is damp, old, and dilapidated, and it’s not even one of your pre-designated meeting places. In front of you is a rusted chain link fence, which barricades a field of tall and unkempt grass. More aged and crumbling buildings scatter themselves across the distance, taken over by grass and climbing vines.

You don’t know what’s out here. This is one place within your district you haven’t been to before. It was Lucas’s idea to come here, after your last meeting place had nearly been discovered and he found it too risky to keep going there.

The entire city of Beijing is split up into different districts, each belonging to a different faction of supernatural beings. Some nonhuman races have close ties with each other and allow frequent cross-district mingling; others are sworn enemies, forbidden to fraternize with each other under pain of death. In these latter cases, crossing into another’s territory without express permission—or in rare situations, ties to a powerful ally (or allies) on the other side—is asking to get arrested, injured, or worse.

Lucas would be your tie to the vampire side and you his tie to the fairy side if your species weren’t centuries-long enemies. Instead, you’re relegated to having him sneak in and out of your district and hide what he is with blood-scent blockers and eye contacts to make the trickery easier to get away with. There’s only so much you can do to disguise your fae nature; stepping into vampire territory would turn you into a shining beacon.

“Hmm…” you sigh, shaking your head with a small smile on your face. You grasp Lucas’s hand so you’re now holding it with both of yours. “How long do you think we can keep this up? Going from place to place like this. Hiding like criminals.”

Lucas gives a lopsided grin—one that cannot morph into a full smile because of the sadness coloring it. “I don’t know. Forever, if we’re lucky.” He chuckles.

You stare at your intertwined hands, unaware of the sheer intensity of the longing expression on your face, though Lucas sees it clearly. It threatens to burn his heart to ash. “Unfortunately, fae don’t live forever like you do, so maybe not. Besides, your people would probably find out and come after me before we could even settle into a ‘forever.’”

He shakes his head fretfully at your words, squeezing your hand. “Do we have to talk about all that now? You know we don’t have much time together. Let’s just enjoy it for what it is.” Lucas pulls you into him, tucking your head into his shoulder.

“That’s fine by me,” you say, and resist the urge to make some dark joke about how scandalous it is for a fairy to have their neck so close to a vampire’s mouth—or a vampire’s anything.

You both stay together in that dingy and old spot for a while, talking in the dark until he tells you he has to go. He follows you the whole way back home to ensure you’re safe, keeping to the shadows until he sees you disappear past your front door. Then, he slips away again to head back to the familiar manor in his own district.

It’s nearly morning when Lucas gets back to the large house he shares with the other six men. By this time of day, he knows they will either be in bed or getting ready to turn in.

“Still visiting that fairy, I see.”

The unexpected voice doesn’t scare Lucas, but it does make his body tense up a bit in irritation and a slight sense of anticipation. He sighs and stops in his tracks on the way to his room, though he doesn’t face the clan leader just yet.

“Is that a problem? Because you know I’m not going to stop.”

Kun makes a noise of disbelief. “Of course it is. You know what the consequences are if anyone outside of us finds out.” Lucas turns to him slightly, and the look on Kun’s face is more disappointment—maybe even slight fear?—than anger. “I clearly can’t stop you from doing what you want to, but I can’t help you if the Association gets involved.”

Lucas rocks back on his heels and sighs, rolling his eyes at the mention of the vampire organization. “Fuck the Association. They’re nothing but a bunch of old ass hags who have no purpose in their lives other than ruling over every other vampire in the world.”

Kun looks weary at his words. “You really don’t care, do you, Xuxi. They’d have your heart on a stake if they ever heard that.” He pauses and rolls his eyes. “They’re also not that much older than me, so I wonder who you’re calling an ‘old ass hag’...”

“Isn’t it a good thing that they won’t hear it, then?” Lucas laughs, but it’s not an entirely humorous sound, and he gives Kun a searching look as his chuckles die off.

“Don’t look at me like that. I have no interest in telling them anything, mostly because I also have no interest in our whole clan being wiped out.”

Lucas nods, reaffirming his somewhat shaky but still present trust in Kun, needing the regular reassurances for his own calm. He stretches his arms above his head and takes a few steps like he’ll go to his room, though he doesn’t move to leave just yet. “Just don’t see what the big deal about all this is. All this over some ancient bloodsucker who died like 500 years ago...who cares.”

Kun winces again, though he doesn’t bother with reprimanding Lucas this time; he only shakes his head and sighs heavily like it’s already a lost cause. “A vampire and a fairy together is more than blasphemy—it’s ridiculous. It’s illogical. They all think we’re bloodsucking demons hellbent on killing them.”

“To be fair, there’s definitely a sect of vampire zealots or two who are trying to do exactly that despite the laws.”

Kun sighs. Lucas is right; what can he say to argue that? “Xuxi…”

“I’m telling you I’ll be fine, Kun-ge. You don’t need to worry about me and Y/N. Things have been going fine for this long.” Lucas nods, then heads off to his room for real this time. Kun watches him leave, feeling a lot less reassured than the younger man.

Ten takes Xiaojun and Lucas on one of their weekly outings to a blood lounge. Blood lounges are an easy and accessible way for vampires to get blood, though the legalities of this practice are a little muddy. Before getting with you, Lucas didn’t mind drinking straight from the source—going to one of the back rooms and sucking some willing, vulnerable being just to the point of death—but now, it feels like a type of transgression. Drinking someone else’s blood can be an intensely intimate act, on the same level as sex depending on the context, and he doesn’t want to do anything to make you think he’d be unfaithful.

To his fortune, there is no club rule about having to feed off other beings; many vampires take their blood in fancy champagne glasses, just like drinks in a human club. He does that now as the three men sit in a darkly lit booth.

Their conversation is unexciting for a while, with Lucas keeping careful not to mention you or any of his recent visits to your district to avoid any prying ears in the lounge. However, things soon get interesting. “We all know how Renjun got taken off the Association’s Registry a year ago, right?” Ten asks suddenly.

“Yes, of course.” Xiaojun answers like he’s already bored of this turn in the conversation. “That’s what happens whenever a vampire dies.”

Ten nods, but his eyes are wide like he has a secret he’s itching to tell. “But I don’t think he actually died.”

Lucas’s ears perk up at that.

“Why?” Xiaojun asks.

“He was seeing that human before he supposedly died, you know—”

“The one who lost it and drove the stake in his heart? We all know how it happened—”

“Can you let me finish? Anyway, I’ve heard some...suggestions that he faked his death—that maybe he got a magic user to set the whole crime scene up and make it look like it was real. Illusory magic, or something like that.”

Xiaojun sits forward. “A magic user. As in a fairy? Or a witch? Who?”

“I don’t know, just someone who uses magic. People are starting to think he and the human faked it all and ran away to Tianjin. I heard someone even claimed they saw somebody who resembled him when they went to Tianjin recently, though I don’t know how true that is…”

Xiaojun’s interest is thoroughly engaged now. “Think the Association will go looking for him, if it's true?”

“I don’t know if they’d care enough to hunt down an unregistered vampire who’s laying low and not creating chaos with other citizens. We all know Tianjin is way more relaxed about inter-species relationships, too. But the Association doesn’t like looking stupid. And that kind of trick definitely makes them look stupid.”

Lucas sits back, taking all of this information in. He is uncharacteristically quiet, but he doesn’t know what to make of that situation or why Ten is telling them about it. He thinks he can guess why, though, by the way Ten’s gaze lingers on him, and that scares him a little. The way this rumor piques a forbidden interest in him scares him. Lucas lifts the glass of blood to his lips and drinks from it, trying to distract himself from the current conversation.

“All this for a damn human. Only an idiot would try something like that,” Xiaojun says, shaking his head.

“Maybe a smart one. It did get him off the Registry.”

“How can you be a smart idiot?!” Ten and Xiaojun start arguing over the semantics of the term, and Lucas watches them in amusement, though his mind remains in two different places for the rest of their time in the blood lounge.

—

Later that night when they are back at the manor, Lucas pulls Ten aside, just like the older man expected him to.

“What’s wrong?” Ten asks, though his expression shows he already knows exactly what’s the matter.

“You...the stuff you said about Renjun earlier. I…” Lucas doesn’t know how to start or break his idea to him softly, so he decides to just say it. “Is it really possible?”

“I think it’s possible. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to get off the Registry…though many other attempts were way less successful.” Then Ten hesitates before saying, “You could try it.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.” Ten’s expression softens a little. “I know you and Y/N love each other a lot, but there’s no way the Association will ever let you stay together if they find out. Y/N’s life could actually be in danger. Both of you are, every moment you spend together while living in these districts. If you really want to stay with Y/N, then…”

“...But I wouldn’t be able to see any of you again.” You and Lucas have become so entwined with one another that he can hardly imagine a life without you, but he also finds it difficult to picture his existence without his brothers. They’ve become like blood family to him over the last couple centuries.

“Yeah.” Ten sighs deeply, and although his reply is short, Lucas knows that one word is carrying the weight of all of his stress and sorrow about the idea. “Maybe we could find a way to visit you sometimes. Get the fairies or witches to do some of their magicky shit.” Ten laughs quietly. “But...it’s still just an idea. You don’t have to do it.”

Lucas shakes his head slowly. He wants to put the idea to bed and try to continue on with his life, managing his clandestine visits to your district when he can. But now that he knows of an alternative way, no matter how unreasonable or unbelievable it is, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget about it. “Kun-ge is going to kill you once he finds out this was your suggestion. You know that, right?”

Ten shrugs, and the sadness lifts momentarily in the curve of his lips. “He can try.”

The next time you and Lucas meet up, it’s in yet another different place under an ancient and mostly abandoned bridge. As a precaution, you stand together underneath the darkness of the bridge and stay out of sight, though there are few chances of anyone being around to see you in the first place.

He has to muster up the courage to tell you of his idea, unsure of how you’ll react or what you’ll think of it. It’s a lot to ask of you. Your kinships and friendships are not as extensive as his, only having a brother and two cousins left in the world, but he doesn’t know if he could ever ask you to leave them behind like this. Or if he could shake off the guilt that would remain from it.

“There might be a way for us to change things…” Lucas starts, skipping the build-up because he knows it would take him forever to think of something appropriate to say. “But I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Change things?” You glance at him curiously. You wish you could see the deep red of his irises, but they are hidden behind his brown contacts. “As in, with us?”

“Yes. So that maybe we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore. Or at least...not sneak around as much as we do now.”

“What is it?” you ask. Despite yourself, your wings flutter against your back as wonder and excitement rise in your chest. You and Lucas have waxed poetic many times before about how you wish things could be different; and neither of you have ever been able to come up with a workable plan. But now, his claim that maybe something is possible has you dangerously curious.

“Taking myself off the Registry. I could basically just...disappear. The Association can’t harm what technically no longer exists.”

You stare at him in confusion. “But you can’t do that, right? Only under special circumstances…”

Lucas sees the question in your eyes and nods. “Right. Like if I die…” You flinch, shaking your head immediately. “...or pretend I’ve died.” This makes you pause, not expecting to hear something like that come from him.

“Pretend...you’ve died. Faking your own death?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but...there’s another vampire who we think has done it before. And...it worked. Supposedly.”

You shake your head again, but you turn the idea over in your mind. “How would you even do that? Someone would have to know you’re not really dead. That can’t be as easy as it sounds...”

Lucas swallows hard. “I know, it doesn’t, but maybe if we plan it right...I think we could pull this off. Some of the others...already know about it.” Only Ten, really, but that’ll inevitably change soon.

Your heart is hammering in your chest just thinking about this plan—the small, undefined plan that it is—and you’re unsure how to approach it. “If we leave under those circumstances, we can’t come back here to Beijing. Which means we won’t see anyone else again, our families and friends...”

“You understand that.” Lucas’s voice comes out strained.

You sigh, wringing your hands. “I do.”

Lucas hangs his head, closing his eyes tightly. “It’s too much to ask of you. We can just forget about this, really. I know sneaking around has been difficult, and I just—”

“I never said I wouldn’t agree to it,” you say softly, interrupting him before he can begin deriding himself about the idea.

Lucas’s head perks up again, and you both look at each other for a long moment. A cold night breeze flows through your clothes and rustles your wings, which remain tucked close against your back.

“Just think of it as leaving the nest, I guess,” you say, though there are tears welling in your eyes. “Growing up and making a life for ourselves. We can do that...right?”

Lucas bites his lip and closes his eyelids to stave off the tears trying to form in his own eyes. “Yeah. We can do that. Even if it’s a bit...unconventional.”

You nod hurriedly, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands before any more tears can make their way out. “If you really want to do this, then we need to visit my brother.”

—

Your brother is predictably not thrilled about the idea. He likes Lucas well enough, but he’s never been very good at hiding his skepticism about your relationship. Though he would never say this to you directly, he never expected your relationship to make it past a few months; and yet it’s been a year and a half since you and Lucas started seeing each other. Maybe he’d be glad about your relationship’s stability if your partner was anyone other than a vampire. Alas, he instead spends all his time stressing over whether either of you will be found out at any moment’s notice.

“You’re playing with fire,” your brother says as he sits down at his desk within his apothecary office. He shakes his head the entire time, but he rifles through his collection of books on magic anyway. If there is anyone who knows a potion or spell that could work for this scheme and would actually be willing to keep it all secret, it’s your brother.

“I know that, Aldriel.” You cross your arms, sighing impatiently at your brother’s continuous reprimands since you’ve stepped through his door. “That’s why we came to you. You’re one of the best magic wielders and potionists around.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. No need to blow smoke up my ass,” Aldriel replies, never one to let a moment to brag slip away. He continues flipping through his book fast enough to make the words on the pages blur, his brow creased with focus. He is paying attention to the words and pictures on the pages, though you also know him well enough to realize this is him trying to distract himself from the many thoughts that must be crowding his brain.

“Don’t be so worried about it,” you say, trying to speak against the lump that’s suddenly forming in your throat. “You’ve always complained about wanting me out of your hair, anyway.”

Aldriel pauses in flipping through his spell book to look directly at you now, his brows creased even further and his face creating a visage of bitter desperation. “Not like this.”

Sighing, you turn away from him and let him go back to his textbook, knowing you’d probably start to cry if you look at him any longer. And who knows what will happen once that begins.

You go back to Lucas, who is sitting in the other room with his face turned to the window. It is nighttime and the blinds are closed, so you know he’s not looking at anything in particular. His mind must be similarly preoccupied.

“You okay?” you ask, touching his arm.

“Fine,” he answers, though he doesn’t turn to you. He just grasps your hand where it slides down to his own, gripping your fingers tightly. “As fine as I can be in this situation, I guess.”

You sit down in front of Lucas on the floor’s intricately decorated rug, resting your head against his knee. “It’ll be okay.” You aren’t sure of the words when they leave your lips, but you have to believe in them or else all will be lost.

—

You both spend a few hours at Aldriel’s place. At one point, you try to prod Lucas into going back to his clan to avoid raising suspicions for being gone too long—you can just get the potion to him some other day—but he insists it’ll be easier for him to stay and receive the potion now.

Finally, in the hour before dawn, your brother’s door opens and he steps through. “It’s ready.”

Both you and Lucas come alert at that, and you step back into Aldriel’s apothecary to see what he’s developed.

“This is an advanced death glamor potion,” your brother says, holding up a small glass bottle. “It contains a magic incantation that will leave you dead for a week and only a week. Seven days. Your body will remain in perfect stasis, so there’s no risk of the regular side effects that come with death.”

“A week?” you repeat, nervousness coursing through your body. Lucas looks equally apprehensive, and he squeezes your hand tighter.

Aldriel nods, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “That should be enough time to take care of the funeral arrangements and make everyone else think you’ve passed.” He says the last bit while gesturing to Lucas. “I’m not super clear on how vampire funerary customs work, though, so—”

Lucas nods. “No, it’ll work. That’s enough time.”

Your brother’s mouth creases into a thin line. “Good.” He passes the vial to Lucas, makes an expression like he might say something else, and then shakes his head, glancing to you instead. “You plan to go to Tianjin, right?”

“That’s right,” you say quietly.

“You’ll need to find a place to stay, then, until you can get one of your own. And I think we both know exactly where that will be.”

The potion works just as Aldriel said it would. It’s hard to know whether to be dismayed or relieved about this, though the former emotion quickly wins out with everyone.

Lucas takes it a week after meeting with your brother and procuring all the necessary fake documents, claiming it’s best not to wait any longer for it. You feel apprehensive about doing it so soon; or maybe you just want to stall for a little while longer. By now the other five men in his clan all know, each with varying reactions to it but ultimately unable to do anything to change his mind—not even Kun.

On the night Lucas uses the potion, Kun makes one last ditch attempt at reasoning.

“You don’t need to go to this extreme,” the older man insists. Though his voice is cold and sharp and deceptively calm, his entire face is a picture of perfect anger. Everyone had already had their turns talking to Lucas alone and telling him what they needed him to hear—and now it’s just Kun left.

“It’s my decision,” Lucas says, keeping his voice steadier than he feels. “I want to be with Y/N. There is no other way.”

“You’re endangering the entire clan with this. You’d throw us all away for one person?” Kun’s eyes are red-rimmed, but not just from the rage; Lucas knows he’s been crying. Lucas shuts his own eyes, his forehead creasing as he presses the pads of his fingers to his temples.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Lucas shakes his head, knowing he is treading on very dangerous waters with what he’s about to say. As if the situation weren’t already contentious enough. “You closed yourself off to love a long time ago. After Jingyi died. You just wouldn’t know.”

The vivid red hue of anger bleeds into Kun’s irises at the mention of his late human lover, and he has to make a very concentrated effort not to reach for the younger’s neck. “How dare you speak of her.”

Lucas opens his eyes again and looks directly at his elder now. “You’ve let the Association run your life too much,” he says, though the words come out sounding a bit defeated. He’s not even sure why he invokes Kun’s lover now; maybe he is trying to make the split easier by provoking the other man into hating him. “You’ve let them beat it into you that love is not worth trying for. What did you gain from that, in the end? But more loneliness.”

Lucas gets the breath knocked from him when Kun slams him up against the wall, and the unpleasant sound of wood splintering strikes against his eardrums. A long vertical crack forms in the wood behind Lucas, but not wide enough to make the wall separate completely. Not using his full strength, then, Lucas thinks to himself.

Kun looks for all the world like he might kill Lucas then and there without the younger man ever needing to take a potion—just bite his heart right out. He crumples Lucas’s shirt in his hands, fisting the fabric tightly enough to create small rips in it. His irises are the color of newly spilled arterial blood, and alongside the red rimming of his eyes from his earlier crying, it makes for an agonizing sight—one that sears itself into the back of Lucas’s mind. It’s made even worse by the new tears spilling down the older man’s face.

He chokes out through the tears, “You cannot do this. I raised you. You would have me destroyed twice?”

Lucas wishes he could shut every one of his senses off right now, but he can only manage to shut his eyes, once again, against the pain in the other man’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Kun-ge.”

—

After that, Lucas goes back to his own room and sits on the bed for a long time, replaying the events in his head and growing colder with the realization of what he’s about to do. He stares at the small vial on his dresser until he can’t stare at it anymore, and then he downs it all at once. He looks at the vial with renewed interest as it actually disappears once the fluid is gone, the glass evaporating away in the palm of his hand like water droplets under the sun. No evidence.

Lying on his side, he stares at the wall across from his bed and waits for the spell to begin working. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually his vision begins to blur, almost so imperceptibly that it’s difficult to realize until he notices everything in his field of view is doubled, objects bleeding out of their lines like pictures drawn by a drunken artist—there’s a strange ringing in his ears too, a sound on the edge of his hearing but still present, and he doesn’t know what any of it means, or if this is how other beings feel when they are on the brink of death—it’s frightening, and he feels a momentary pang of sympathy for other nonhumans and humans alike who have no choice but to experience this terrible ordeal at the closing of their lives—

It’s harder to keep his eyes open now, so he closes them and lets all sounds and sensations fade out of his hearing—he only holds one last memory of you in his mind, of the soft and filmy texture of your wings underneath his fingertips, of you laughing whole-heartedly at something silly he’d said, and he joins his hands together in the universal symbol of prayer even as they grow weaker, hoping and praying even to his cursed vampire ancestor that this won’t be the very last memory of you—

—

“Yes, he has...most certainly departed from this world.”

An Association council member known as Belial announces this to the room of men after doing a thorough check of Lucas’s body. His voice is distant and saddened. The texture of it is almost tangible, dragging everyone down with it like a physical thing—akin to a rock being dropped into a thin sheet. “Such a fledgling, too. Truly tragic and strange circumstances.” Belial stands beside the bed, shaking his head and looking down at the still form of the younger man as if he might discover an answer if he stares for long enough. “Was there no indication…?”

“He was probably exposed to bad blood,” Ten replies, his voice tense and quiet. Though Kun is clan leader, he doesn’t say anything at all, leaving all the dirty work of explaining the lie to Ten.

Belial’s gaze turns to Ten. He shifts his head slightly to turn his ear towards him, as if he didn’t understand what the other man said. “Bad...blood? As in death by blood weakness?”

The room feels like it’s been sucked of air once these words are spoken, and the younger men shift uncomfortably. Sicheng never lifts his gaze to look at Belial, though Yangyang’s eyes keep darting between Belial and Lucas on the bed like he’s waiting for something to happen. Hendery is just as anxious beside Yangyang, both of them passing uneasy energy between each other. Xiaojun’s face is still fixed into the same permanent frown it had been in since Lucas first told them of the plan. His eyes remain downcast and fixed on Lucas, silently asking Why did you have to be the idiot this time?

“Yes, blood weakness. He hadn’t drank as much blood as usual in the last few days...maybe he seemed a little restless...but we didn’t think it was unusual. He...didn’t seem sick.”

“Where would he have gotten bad blood from? We vampires always take such care…” Belial’s tone turns condescending, as if he could expect no better from a young vampire—someone not even wise enough to tell bad blood from uninfected blood. How could one let themselves be taken out of this world by such a fundamental, basic mistake? Kun curls his fingers into a fist at his side, though he quickly remembers himself and tries to let them relax.

“The blood lounge,” Hendery blurts out. Every eye turns to him now, and Ten’s mouth thins into an agitated line. This isn’t what they agreed on. “M-maybe it was spoiled blood from the blood lounge. It had to be. He’s more careful than that…”

Belial’s eyes are whirling with so many emotions that it’s hard to pin any singular one down. “Serving bad blood, with or without knowledge of it, is an incredible offense within any vampire district. In that case, the establishment must be shut down—after an exhaustive investigation, of course.” This statement causes more discomfort among the gathered men, almost too much of it to be properly concealed.

“I think that won’t be necessary,” Kun interjects quietly. Belial looks at him with an expression that reeks of offense, and Kun returns the stare, glaring straight into the elder vampire’s eyes. “He died of blood weakness, most likely from drinking from some disease-ridden human. Even though he used the blood lounge and blood bags, he was in the habit of getting outside blood on occasion. It was a moment of poor judgment that cost him his life...and nothing more than that.”

A tense silence stretches over the room, and Belial’s eyes still don’t leave Kun’s. The other men remain statue-still, waiting to see what will happen—if it will work—until Belial says, “Yes. Of course. I’ll file his passing with the Keepers of the Registry, as protocol states.”

The other men stay quiet and motionless until Belial departs from their house.

“You used your compulsion on a council member,” says Yangyang, and even his voice is trembling when he speaks.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Xiaojun notes, though his tone is more irritated than awed. “They’re all so much more advanced.”

That action obviously didn’t come for free, though, because Kun is holding his head like it hurts, turning away from the rest of them. “Such recklessness is not my style. Primitiva help us all. We’re all dead if we’re found out.”

“Why did you say that,” Sicheng deadpans, his words directed to Hendery. Even though Sicheng hasn’t said or done anything since stepping into the room, he looks thoroughly exhausted. “You almost gave us away.”

Hendery holds himself up on the bed as if he’ll collapse, his body bent with all the weight of their lies. He makes a motion like he might sit on the bed before remembering it’s where Lucas’s body is resting, and he straightens himself with some effort. “I...but he was thinking badly of Lucas. Like it was his fault.”

“It was,” Kun says faintly.

“You can’t let your emotions get the best of you right now. Just let me handle the talking.” Ten’s expression is stressed, and for a moment he starts to wonder if he should’ve ever said anything to Lucas at all.

Xiaojun shakes his head. “For now, there is a lot more we need to do than just talking.”

Vampire funerary procedures are much different from what many other supernatural races are used to—even blasphemous to some. Everything is handled at the home of the deceased instead of a funeral home or mortuary, in keeping with the tradition of honoring one’s vampire ancestors—and ultimately, the Primitiva Vampire. After the Primitiva’s gruesome death hundreds of years ago, all that had been left was her ashes once the fire burned out, but her followers still gave the remains a proper processing and burial.

The men dress Lucas in one of his nicest suits and perform all the necessary actions that would be involved at a funerary home, including preparing the casket. All of them help throughout this process as tradition dictates, though it is more difficult than any of them expected it to be. (No one even makes a dark joke about you’ll have to do this for me when I’m gone, which speaks to their inner turmoil.)

The viewing is equally challenging to get through, if not more.

Many of their vampire friends and acquaintances attend, including various members of the Association. Everyone seems to buy the blood weakness lie perfectly, which means Kun’s compulsion worked as it should have. That knowledge does very little to relax any of them in the grand scheme of things, though.

Though they know Lucas is not really gone, the sight of him lying there in that dark coffin with other vampires looking sadly down at his still face and dabbing their tears away is deeply frightening.

The night of the viewing goes by at a glacial pace, and every other night after that up until the funeral passes even more slowly, like time itself has dropped its speed to prolong the torment.

When the last few straggling visitors for the viewing are gone, the men go their separate ways to try to deal with the not-so-small trauma of the day’s events. Kun goes up to one of the manor’s several wide balconies, one that they’ve all used as a familiar hangout spot or simply a place to unwind over the years. The sun will not rise for another forty-five minutes or so, giving him enough time to sit and think before it becomes unsafe. He is not very surprised when he finds Ten already there, though he decides not to leave.

“You stopped smoking three decades ago,” Kun comments, waving his hand in a pitiful attempt to clear out the smell of smoke filling the air. There’s no hint of teasing or personality in his voice, only hollowness and exhaustion. He sits beside the other man in one of the chairs sat outside. “Where did you even get cigarettes from?”

“Don’t worry about me. This is just for the nerves.”

“Why would I worry, it’s not like you can—” Kun pauses before saying the word they both know, realizing it hits far too close to home right now. Silence falls between them until Kun asks, “Do you actually believe this will be worth it?”

“It will. We’ve worked too hard for it not to be.” Ten takes a drag from his cigarette. “We’re giving them a second chance. Isn’t that something to feel good about?”

“A second chance. How interesting.”

“Everyone deserves one.” Ten glances at Kun from the corners of his eyes and doesn’t say anything more, but Kun already knows what he’s vaguely implying.

“And yet everyone doesn’t get one.”

“All the more reason to take the opportunity when it becomes possible.”

Kun doesn’t reply to that. Ten places a hand on his shoulder, but the older man meets this with little regard as he rises from his seat and walks away at a sluggish pace.

You stand in the train station ready to buy a ticket, clutching documents falsifying your identity and feeling more terrified than you possibly ever have. Today marks the seventh day, and you don’t even know if Lucas is alive right now. It was too risky to have any of the other clan members contact you—not until you and Lucas meet up in the designated place. You know Aldriel is an excellent potion master, and if he says the spell will work as intended then it will, but there’s always that seed of doubt.

Your parting with Aldriel had been typical of your relationship with him—you crumbling before him and him pretending like he was fine, lending enough strength for the both of you to survive on, though you knew he was also bleeding from the heart.

“You better not forget about me,” you’d told him, smushing your face into the sleeve of his shirt to hide your tears, though there was no stopping the flow. It was staining his shirt sleeve right through.

He’d scoffed at you, though it was a watery sound. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He’d held your head closer against his shoulder, the both of you glued together in whichever way seemed fit when you’d walked through his door one last time to say goodbye. “We’ll see each other again. Don’t worry.”

You’d lifted your head from his shoulder then, looking at him with an aggrieved expression. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Aldriel put his hand on top of your head, petting you like a small puppy. It was a thing you’d disliked since you were both children, but which only made your heart hurt even more now. “Have more faith in me than that, dear sister. You’ll see.”

When it’s your turn to get a ticket, you step up to the counter and hand over your information, trying to keep the shaking in your hands to a minimum. The teller behind the counter is also a fairy, their wings tucked against the back of their uniform but peeking out at the sides. You childishly try to take some solace in that, hoping there will be some solidarity between you two. Maybe they’ll be less critical of your legitimacy than any other being might be.

The process is scarily easier than you’d thought it would be, though you are sweating the entire time. A fake name and birth date, and no one suspected anything. All of this would have to be your new identity now if you were to live with Lucas in Tianjin without being discovered.

Getting on the train when it comes is only part of the long journey ahead. It doesn’t provide you with much relief, but you are at least thankful to have one segment of that journey complete.

—

It takes another cab to get to your destination once you’re off the train, but you soon arrive at the house of one of Aldriel’s friends and his similar-name twin—Raziel. Raziel was Aldriel’s most trusted and oldest friend, their woven history extending back to childhood. The three of you had grown up together, and you’d even been quite familiar with Raziel until they left for Tianjin some years ago. Now, you’re back in front of each other again under circumstances that you never could’ve guessed.

“You’re here. Good.” Raziel welcomes you into their house with open arms, tugging you into a jittery hug that you anxiously return.

“Have...you heard anything?” you ask, though you know it’s futile. Raziel wouldn’t have gotten any more information than you have, not until Lucas was standing right on their doorstep. They shake their head and give you a sympathetic look, patting your hands.

“He’ll be alright. Everything will go well. I believe it.” Raziel guides you further into their house, presumably towards the room you’ll be staying in while you’re there. “It’s all so romantic, though—even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. I hope you know you’re doing a good thing, in the end.”

You force your facial muscles into a smile, though it is a ghostly and fleeting one. “Thank you.”

Either way, you will have to wait until nighttime to know if Raziel’s words come true or not; the sun is still high in the sky. It’s only midday. You’ve never before hated the sunlight, but right now you curse the sun’s rays that elongate the time between you and your lover.

—

“You all, give him some damn space,” Ten says, trying to pull the younger vampires away so they won’t crowd around the coffin. “He doesn’t need the scare of his life looking at all your faces when he wakes up.” Despite trying his best to be the voice of reason, Ten also has to refuse the urge to station himself beside the coffin and watch for the slightest movement of eyelids, the tiniest twitch of the lips. His hands shake from the frayed nerves of a week of nothing but death and gloom, and even though he doesn’t need to sleep, he thinks he will be out for at least two days after all of this is over.

There is no set time, no designated signal for when—or the dreaded if—Lucas will awaken. The waiting game feels longer than it really is, especially with the hours until the funeral commences steadily counting down. However, it is not very long before there’s a big sucking breath coming from the coffin, the sudden sound of lungs being filled after a week of complete stillness. Everyone rushes back to the bier when this happens, peering wildly inside the coffin.

Lucas’s eyelids flutter for an eternity before shooting open. He immediately seems distressed upon waking, sitting up out of the coffin so quick that it stutters on its stand, and the others have to steady it before it tips over.

“Xuxi...are you okay?” Sicheng asks, voice hushed with nervousness. Despite his unending anger and distress about the situation, Kun has also crowded in to witness Lucas’s awakening, and he visibly sags with relief to see the younger man is at last awake.

The look in Lucas’s eyes is wild. They are momentarily afraid that maybe something has gone wrong with the potion—maybe it has affected his mind somehow and he doesn’t remember any of them— but then he says,

“Y/N. Is Y/N okay?”

“We don’t know,” Sicheng replies. “I mean, hopefully. But it was safer to not have so much cross-communication going on—you’ll have to go to the meeting spot to find out…”

Though the reasons for this make sense, this does not provide consolation. Lucas fumbles his way out of the coffin with the men’s help. It’s clear he’s still disoriented, which makes them even more nervous, if that’s possible at this point.

“You should drink some blood before you leave,” Hendery suggests, and everyone else agrees. Lucas won’t argue that, so he downs one of the blood bags they have stored until he feels a little more like himself.

“You have to go soon, the funeral is set to start in another hour—we’ll have to leave—” Yangyang warns him, though the words fade at the end of his sentence. He doesn’t know how to continue his thought or how to even begin saying goodbye.

Lucas fills that gap by steeling himself and saying his farewells to each of them in turn, though his eyes are troubled and his chin crumples like he might cry at any moment.

“Don’t say I never helped you out with anything,” Ten says, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. Being separated is painful, but it’ll ultimately serve its purpose of giving Lucas a chance at having a love that none of them could. After seeing Kun suffer the way he did after losing Jingyi, Ten wants to spare another one of his mates from dealing with the same fate.

When Lucas gets to Kun, there is a slight awkward silence and a swift exchange of glances—Lucas’s soft gaze butting up against Kun’s more solid one, which is simultaneously pleading to him and rebuking him for his actions. Still, Kun embraces him tightly enough that their bodies could join together.

“Xuxi…” Kun starts, “I don’t…” And then his words break, leaving an unspoken thought between them.

“One day, you’ll forgive me for this,” Lucas whispers to the older man. Kun gives him an endlessly hurt look in return, silently asking him how he could even conceive those words. When they separate from each other, it’s with much reluctance. Lucas looks at them all and nods once, his mouth tight with grief.

“Right. Time to go, then.”

—

You awake in the middle of the night to cool fingers on the side of your face, which startles you completely out of your sleep. Opening your eyes to an unfamiliar room scares you even more, and it takes you a moment to remember why your surroundings have changed. The knowledge comes back to you quickly when a large palm slips against your own, long fingers twining with yours.

“Xuxi,” you whisper quietly, the sound of his name hanging in the air like a prayer. One of the last few times you’ll be able to freely call him that, except in private.

You can’t see his figure well with all the lights turned out, but he had no problem navigating through the dark to reach your bedside. Wanting desperately to see his face, you fumble around for the bedside lamp switch before turning it on.

“Y/N…” Lucas’s face is suddenly illuminated to you in all its golden glory, a myriad of emotions flickering over his features.

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” you say breathlessly. You’re somewhat sad and wish you could’ve met him at the door, embraced him after his long trip, but it doesn’t much matter anymore because he’s here now.

“Poor Y/N. My baby must’ve been so tired.” Lucas bumps his forehead against yours, his whole body drooping with relief as he practically sinks into you, and you giggle a little as you complain about having to hold his weight up. There is a tingle behind your eyes that threatens to turn into a sudden burst of tears, but you try to hold them at bay for a while longer.

“Are we safe?” he whispers, needing your confirmation. “Raziel said so. But...are we really safe?”

“That’s frightening to even think about,” you reply quietly. “We can’t stay here too long, but for now…I think we will be.” Lucas nods without a word, still holding your hand. His blood-scent is completely absent, as it usually is when he’s around you, and you know he’s used the blockers. Soon, with the ability to go out together and not be arrested or threatened for it, that will not be necessary to disguise his vampirism anymore. “It...won’t be easy.”

“No, but the things we want out of life usually aren’t.”

You squeeze his hand. “Raziel will help take care of things for us. It won’t all be trials and tribulations. I hope.” More hesitantly, you ask him, “What was it like? Being dead?” You know that vampires, being once human, still have souls and an afterlife to go to like most other living beings.

The look on his face is worrying. He doesn’t meet your eyes; he only shakes his head and stares at your joined hands. “It was cold without you.” His lips pull into a weak and chapped smile, if only to quiet your worrying, but that doesn’t work as intended. You decide to leave it for now, figuring there will be more time to talk about it when he feels ready.

Turning the light back off, you both press your bodies together as close as they can physically get, Lucas’s head on your chest and his long legs all jumbled together with yours. You fall asleep before he does, lulled away by his comforting and safe presence. He stays awake for a while longer, staring into the dark and the dark staring back into him, before everything else falls away.

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silentfcknhill · 4 years

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FAVORITE SHOWS IN POSTERS

Well, we’re back for another installment of this tagged meme, this time for TV shows! I also stole this from/was indirectly tagged by @jcmorrigan. My taste in shows also differs a bit from my taste in movies, as I tend to like a lot of comedy shows with not as many horror ones. I’m not into shows as much as movies overall, but there are some that I am very passionate about so I picked twenty again. So, here we go for part 2, in order:

1. Avatar: The Last Airbender/The Legend Of Korra (2005-2014)

I'm including these as one show since they take place in the same universe and tell a continuation of the same overall plot. Altogether this is probably the best piece of media to ever exist, including movies. It has so many great characters and villains especially and some of the most epic sequences, charming humor and heartwarming moments ever. I've never met a person who didn't like these shows, even people who normally don't like cartoons. My dad, who is biased against animation? He loved it. My mother? She loved it, watched it with her multiple times. My grandmother? Loved it. My ex-boyfriend? Loved it. My best friend? Loved it. I dare anyone not to, and I'm so glad it's making a resurgence since it's on Netflix for a new generation to enjoy.

2. Black Butler (2008-2014)

I never was big into anime growing up and only really started watching anime when I was like 16 and above, but this is one of the exceptions because holy shit is it ever dark and epic. I'm not sure I'd really recommend it for kids, it's more of a teens and young adults kind of anime and that's probably why it's so good, because it isn't afraid to explore dark and mature topics and do it with all of the intensity and gravitas required to do said topics justice. It has lots of great characters, and the story of demons who make deals with children who have a dark side is fun to watch play out.

3. Seinfeld (1989-1998)

My dad was a huge fan of this show so I watched it growing up since I was a toddler and it became a classic for me. I've watched thw hole show through at least 8 times, and I'll never stop because it never gets old or boring. It's also my only comfort show when I'm having a panic attack because of one time a few years ago when I was having a drug-induced psychosis episode and watching it calmed me down, so now it's like the opposite of a trigger and whenever I'm having an episode or something I watch it to bring me back to reality. For that reason it's more than a show to me, it's a medical treatment and I'm forever grateful to it.

4. The Good Place (2016-2020)

The big four shows made my Michael Schur all made it on this post (The Good Place, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, The Office and Parks And Recreation), either in the main list of the honorable mentions, but this is my personal favorite of the four. It's so funny, quirky, relatable and basically tailor-made to suit my interests. Not only is it an entertaining and wholesome show, but I think watching it helped me come to terms with a lot of things like mortality, ethics, philosophy, religion and my relationships with other people. It gets alot of different viewpoints across and if you're a very analytical and philosophical person like me you'll probably enjoy seeing it all play out. Not to mention, every single character is 'favorite character' material. It's rare you find a show with no filler characters in the main cast, but I genuinely can't choose who is best.

5. Brooklyn Nine-Nine (2013-?)

Another of Michael Schur's shows, this one is just barely under The Good Place and to be honest it was tough to pick my favorite between the two because they're both equally funny. I know it's kind of controversial right now because of the whole law enforcement thing, but I actually think they do a good job of handling social issues in the show and remaining respectful of real-life systemic problems. As for the characters, this is another one of those shows where every single character is gold and I think that tends to be a trend among Schur's shows in general. He produces damn good comedy, and damn good characters. I can't wait to see what they bring next.

6. Rick And Morty (2013-?)

This is unfortunately one of those cases of 'great show, horrible fandom' and for that reason I don't get involved in the fandom even though I love the show. It's a shame because it really is a great show, so funny and, again, such good characters. I think it's a lot more accessible than the fandom likes to claim, so I'm hoping more people will give it a chance and not get put off by the intellectual elitism of the fandom because it does have some of the most entertaining and batshit crazy episodes ever, poking fun of some of the staples of science fiction in media while also poking fun of itself the whole time. Unlike the fandom, the show doesn't take itself seriously and that's enjoyable nowadays.

7. Orange Is The New Black (2013-2019)

While this show is a comedy, it is also a lot of other things and it's probably made me ugly-cry just as many times as it's made me laugh. Well, maybe not as often, but those few scenes (if you've watched the show then you know the ones I'm talking about) made me hysterically sob hard enough to be worth like fifty minor sads. But I didn't even mind because the show is just that good, and it makes you /feel/ something in a real way. Probably because of just how real it gets in terms of telling stories that happen all the time in the real world, sometimes with inevitably tragic endings. But these things do happen every day, and it's important to shine a light on that. It's not just representation for LGBTQ+ but also for POC, the neurodiverse, the poor, and many more. Give it a watch to broaden your perspective!

8. Big Mouth (2017-?)

This is probably the grossest show I've ever seen but by god is it ever funny. Maybe it's because I have an immature sense of humor or something, but I love this show. It definitely won't be everyone's cup of tea and I don't recommend you watch this show with anyone else around because it will get awkward. I think part of its appeal to me is that everyone I talk to who likes it considers it so relatable to their lives growing up but for someone like me who grew up on the autism and asexual spectrum and who was physically an early-bloomer by years, nothing about this show is relatable to me in any way so it makes it all the more crazy and bizarre watching how the people around me must have experienced things. Did y'all really have these experiences with puberty in middle school???

9. Dexter (2006-2013)

I recently heard that this show is coming back for a reboot soon and I'm so excited because this is my absolute favorite drama/thriller show, as evidenced by the fact that it's the highest one on the list so far that isn't a comedy. I love the idea of having a protagonist who is sort of a villain (or at least morally dubious), and the idea of a serial killer who only kills bad people is particularly satisfying for some reason. Maybe because he's the vigilante we all deserve and want in this unjust and evil world of modern times? Idk but the very premise of this show set it up for big things and aside from the ending I think it delivered consistently.

10. Once Upon A Time (2011-2018)

This show took us on some journeys, and you can't deny that. Sure, maybe it didn't always finish what it started and didn't always end in the most satisfying way, but part of its charm is that you didn't care because the experience was just so much fun. They took characters and stories that have been told to death and somehow managed to put a unique and unexpected twist on them, and that alone is admirable. Good twists, good villains, and pretty much every cliffhanger known to man will keep you hooked on binge-watching every episode.

11. RuPaul's Drag Race (2009-?)

A bit different than the other entries on my list in that it's not fiction but a reality competition show, but I couldn't leave Drag Race out because it's just so fucking iconic and perfect. Even when you disagree with the judges or can't stand a certain contestant you'll still be having a good time. It's got the personalities you love to love, the ones you love to hate, and the comedy that's completely meme-able. I mean just how much has this show contributed to pop culture and the internet? More than most of us, henny. I've watched every single season, even the international ones and all of the spinoffs. This show will probably be on for another thirty years when Ru is throwing shade from a hospital bed and I'll still be watching.

12. House (2004-2012)

Some people hate on this show, and I don't get it. I love House. Yes, he's an ass. That's the point. He's supposed to be unlikeable, and that's why I like him. Maybe because I always love the rude, sarcastic, misanthropic jerkass-genius characters for some reason. And I also love procedural shows, so it's a win-win. I also work in the healthcare field so it appeals to me for that reason too, because obviously the whole premise is outlandish which is what makes it funny. Of course it's not realistic for a hospital, so just enjoy the absurdity and don't get too hung up on the details of medical accuracy and professional ethics and you'll be fine.

13. The Office (2005-2013)

The third of Michael Schur's show and the last one that made the main list (sorry Parks And Rec, I love you too but there was just so many good shows to choose from and I saw you last so the nostalgia isn't as strong!) I don't think I need to hype this show up any, it's already a classic and you can't even turn around online without getting hit in the face by a dozen Office memes. You'll have to pry this show and it's relatable characters (especially Michael Scott) from my cold, dead hands.

14. All Hail King Julien/The Penguins Of Madagascar (2008-2017)

Like Avatar/Korra, I also consider this as one show for the sake of this list because it also takes place in the same universe (Madagascar, specifically) and I just couldn't choose one over the other because they're both so perfect. They're funny and I love all the characters (it cut out the weaker links of the Madagascar film series and just focuses on expanding the standout side-characters like King Julien and the penguins). It also delved into some lore, particularly the first show, and even though I didn't also agree with the directions it took (you may have seen me get salty about the ending because I cared too much), I can't deny how much I love it.

15. Bones (2005-2017)

One of the other scarce non-comedy shows on this list, it still has it's funny moments. It's also, like House, another procedural show that involves some medical stuff, but this time on a more scientific and forensic level which is even more interesting. It's nice to see a lead female with Asperger's, too. There's a lot of cop/law enforcement shows where they try to solve crimes, but this one is the best, and I'm saying that as a fan of CSI as well. Don't fight me on this, I'm right. Oh yes, it's corny, it's campy, it's cheesy, but I love every minute of it. Don't watch if you have a weak stomach though.

16. The Simpsons (1989-?)

We all grew up with this show, don't lie. It's been around longer than most people on tumblr have even been alive. Should it have ended seasons ago? Hell yes. But that doesn't take away what the first like 20 or so seasons gave us (there's a lot of argument about when the show jumped the shark, for me it wasn't until much later than the popular consensus). The characters are amazing, but the secret to the show's longevity is that they always return to status quo and there's comfort and nostalgia in that. Bart will still be in 4th grade when you're out there pushing 90. This show is persistent. This show is eternal. This show will outlive us all.

17. Ash Vs. Evil Dead (2015-2018)

Sorely underrated. This show is hilarious, gruesome and campy as hell and I love it. I don't think you necessarily have to watch the Evil Dead movies beforehand in order to get the plot of the show, although it would probably help. In my opinion this show ended way too soon and I'm hoping someday we'll get a comeback because Ash is the reluctant, self-absorbed hero we all need and it's 2020 so at this point there really might actually be a demon-zombie apocalypse and who's gonna save us then if not for the impulsive womanizer with a chainsaw for a hand?

18. Malcolm In The Middle (2000-2006)

Another show I grew up with, I don't think it gets as much credit as it deserves. It has some damn funny episodes and great characters, and it did a lot of the popular sitcom tropes before they were 'cool'. Some other great sitcoms, The Middle in particular, took a lot of influence from this show and it helped pave the way for the future of sitcoms at a time when they were about to make a comeback. If you want a good show about the real experiences of growing up, this is a much more accurate representation of the highs and lows of being an awkward tween from a dysfunctional home.

19. A Series Of Unfortunate Events (2017-2019)

Unlike most people I actually liked the movie version from the early 2000's, and I read the books growing up so I was excited when I saw there was a live action television adaptation of it on Netflix because I felt like they cancelled the movie franchise too soon. I was interested to see how new actors would handle the roles, and I was not disappointed. I wouldn't say I liked either portrayal of the characters better or worse, they both added their own twist to it and this show is a great and loyal adaptation to the books, probably because the author was so heavily involved. He knew just when to stick to the books and when to improve upon what he had done with the benefit of hindsight. This show is basically the books, but remastered.

20. Winx Club (2004-?)

Sort of an odd one out on this list, but I really love this show even as an adult and it may surprise you to learn it is still going on and the most recent season came out last year. They take big breaks sometimes in between seasons, but it's still going strong and in multiple countries. The only thing I don't like about watching this show is all the different and inconsistent dubs since the original show is Italian and each dub only goes for a couple seasons so by the time you get used to one set of voices/names for the characters oyu have to abruptly switch to another, but it's still worth it for the beautiful animation and cool characters (especially the villains!)

Honorable Mentions:

13 Reasons Why, America's Next Top Model, American Horror Story, Arrested Development, Bates Motel, Battlestar Galactica, Black Mirror, Care Bears, Chernobyl, Courage The Cowardly Dog, Criminal, CSI, Duck Dodgers, Goosebumps, Kenny Vs. Spenny, Kim Possible, Kingdom Hospital, Lazytown, Lost, Making A Murderer, Mayday, Mindhunter, Modern Family, Monster High, Obsession: Dark Desires, Parks And Recreation, Prison Break, Project Runway, Queer As Folk, Queer Eye, Salem, Schitt's Creek, SCTV, Spongebob Squarepants, The Emperor's New School, The Good Doctor, The Haunting Of Hill House/Bly Manor, The Middle, The Pretender, The Walking Dead, The X-Files, Through The Wormhole, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, Unsolved Mysteries, Yugioh

Tagging: @bullet-farmer and anyone else who wants to!

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siavahdainthemoon · 3 years

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In idris do they have field trips for schools? (Zoo, aquarium, movies, plays) Psych, rehabilitation, and physical therapy wards and hospitals. Do they have college (light world majors, downworlders rights) Thank you and love this and you :)

OKAY HI WTF

So apparently you sent this to me in 2016 @ikeea-world but my notifications have been fucked for years and also, somehow this posted??? Even though I hadn’t answered it??? And it was invisible in many views???

I don’t even know

BUT HI I’LL TRY TO ANSWER

FIVE YEARS LATE BUT W/E

In Idris, Shadowhunters attend the Academy, and most purebloods will also have private tutors before+during their time at the Academy. They definitely have field trips, but they’re of the ‘let’s test your demon-killing skills’ variety so I’m not sure they count!

(And they have no art classes except music, so. No drama performances or movie nights, etc, so definitely no school trips to go see them. All those things are a Distraction!)

Non-Shadowhunter kids, on the other hand, have a ton more options. Depending on your caste, you might end up in an apprenticeship when you’re older, and most of those don’t have field trips but they do have days off + possible journeying around Idris with your teacher, so you might see some things. Younger kids, or older ones on their days off, can visit various libraries and Alicante’s museums (they have a few of them, one which is mostly Nephilim history and another for [super]natural history (aka magical creatures + demons etc)(yes demon bodies dissolve when they die UNLESS they are quickly+specially treated, they can be preserved it’s just a lot of effort). The Clave is also really big on art, there are art museums and galleries that are open to the public. No zoos or aquariums, though.

They definitely have hospitals, including facilities for physical therapy (as we see in City of Knives, Nephilim prosthetics are pretty damn impressive). And there are mental health services, but, it’s considered Unacceptable for Shadowhunters specifically to use these. It’s not other Nephilim who really think this, it’s a prejudice that’s grown within the Shadowhunter caste over time. Shadowhunters exist to defend the world; anything that makes them ‘sub-optimal’ (their phrasing not mine!) is taboo. Plus, most Shadowhunters aren’t aware of how fucked-up they are, so they wouldn’t ask for help anyway.

Universities mostly don’t exist in any format we’d be familiar with; instead of college, Nephilim will study either one-on-one or in small groups under someone who is specialised in the thing they want to learn. That being said, again, there is peripatetic teaching available for non-Shadowhunters - teachers paid by the Idrian government to offer free (to the students) lessons in things like music, runes, and the basics of various art forms (these teachers are usually the ones who connect promising students with ‘masters’ in the subjects they want to continue with). Although this kind of teaching is mostly for kids and teenagers, it’s open to adults as well.

If you want to learn about the Light World, your only real option is to study with and join the merchant adventurer caste, since these are the people who leave Idris to work in what we think of as the normal world. Like Shadowhunters, most people are born into the caste, but those born outside the caste can join it as well (with much less work + facing far less prejudice than those who want to become Shadowhunters). Some merchant adventurers actually specialise in Light Worlder pop culture, since keeping an eye on what humans think of magic and fantasy things is potentially very relevant.

Becoming a merchant adventurer means very rarely coming home to Idris, though, since most of them have Light Worlder identities that they live almost 24/7.

Alternatively, you could join the scholae caste, who are literally scholars of various subjects. Scholae study at the Studion, which is the closest thing to a university that Idris has - it’s part university, part research center, part record-keeping office, and part Very Restricted Library. (Alchemists and various others spend time here too, and lots of representatives of other castes visit when they’re seeking guidance or information.) There are scholae who specialise in Light Worlder studies, for sure - they tend to work pretty closely with merchant adventurers and/or serve as advisors to the Clave, helping explain developments in the Light World and giving advice on new laws/interactions with Light Worlder governments. Even scholae who don’t specialise in Light World stuff get to take research trips out of Idris, depending on their field of study - a bunch of the ones who study Downworlders showed up in City of Knives to try and help sort out the threat to the Accords.

(The secretari are a sect of the scholae, scholars who specialise in angelic history and magic etc; they spend time in the Studion, for sure, but they also have their own special clubhouse, the Ziggurat.)

(Also, while the Studion is dedicated to Uriel, archangel of wisdom, the Ziggurat is consecrated to Raziel, in xyr office as archangel of mysteries and keeper of sacred secrets.)

The Shadowhunter Academy does have courses on Light Worlders, but they are, as you might imagine, not very in-depth, and the lessons on Downworlders are also, um, let’s go with lacking. Like, they EXIST, those lessons, but Simon + Clary would be Extremely Unimpressed with them. They’re far more about how to kill xyz and what parts of the Law apply to them then they are about what werewolf culture is like, for example. Shadowhunters kind of roll on the assumption that if they need to know about ‘nerd stuff’ they can just call the scholae to come explain things.

So yeah, FIVE YEARS LATE BUT HERE IS YOUR ANSWER LOVELY <333

#Runed stuff #ruining you with runed

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jeannereames · 3 years

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Hi, Dr. Reames! I just read your take on Song of Achilles and it got me thinking. Do you think there might be a general issue with the way women are written in mlm stories in general? Because I don't think it's the first time I've seen something like this happen.

And my next question is, could you delve further into this thing you mention about modern female authors writing women? How could we, beginner female writers, avoid falling into this awful representations of women in our writing?

Thank you for your time!

[It took a while to finish this because I wrote, re-wrote, and re-wrote it. Still not sure I like it, but I need to let it go. It could be 3xs as long.]

I’ll begin with the second half of the question, because it’s simpler. How do we, as women authors, avoid writing women in misogynistic ways?

Let me reframe that as how can we, as female authors, write negative (even quite nasty) female characters without falling into misogynistic tropes? Also, how can we write unsympathetic, but not necessarily “bad” female characters, without it turning misogynistic?

Because people are people, not genders, not all women are good, nor all men bad. Most of us are a mix. If we should avoid assuming powerful women are all bitches, by the same token, some women are bitches (powerful or not).

ALL good characterization comes down to MOTIVE. And careful characterization of minority characters involves fair REPRESENTATION. (Yes, women are a minority even if we’re 51% of the population.)

The question ANY author must ask: why am I making this female character a bitch? How does this characterization serve the larger plot and/or characterization? WHY is she acting this way?

Keep characters complex, even the “bad guys.” Should we choose to make a minority character a “bad guy,” we need to have a counter example—a real counter, not just a token who pops in briefly, then disappears. Yeah, maybe in an ideal world we could just let our characters “be,” but this isn’t an ideal world. Authors do have an audience. I’m a lot less inclined to assume stereotyping when we have various minority characters with different characterizations.

By the same token, however, don’t throw a novel against the wall if the first minority character is negative. Read further to decide if it’s a pattern. I’ve encountered reviews that slammed an author for stereotyping without the reader having finished the book. I’m thinking, “Uh…if you’d read fifty more pages….” Novels have a developmental arc. And if you’ve got a series, that, too, has a developmental arc. One can’t reach a conclusion about an author’s ultimate presentation/themes until having finished the book, or series.*

Returning to the first question, the appearance of misogyny depends not only on the author, but also on when she wrote, even why she’s writing. Authors who are concerned with matters such as theme and message are far more likely to think about such things than those who write for their own entertainment and that of others, which is more typical of Romance.

On average, Romance writers are a professionalized bunch. They have national and regional chapters of the Romance Writers of America (RWA), newsletters and workshops that discuss such matters as building plot tension, character dilemmas, show don’t tell, research tactics, etc. Yet until somewhat recently (early/mid 2010s), and a series of crises across several genres (not just Romance), treatment of minority groups hadn’t been in their cross-hairs. Now it is, with Romance publishers (and publishing houses more generally) picking up “sensitivity readers” in addition to the other editors who look at a book before its publication.

Yet sensitivity readers are hired to be sure lines like “chocolate love monkey” do not show up in a published novel. Yes, that really was used as an endearment for a black man in an M/M Romance, which (deservedly) got not just the author but the publishing house in all sorts of hot water. Yet misogyny, especially more subtle misogyny in the way of tropes, is rarely on the radar.

I should add that I wouldn’t categorize The Song of Achilles as an M/M historical Romance. In fact, I’m not sure what to call novels about myths, as myths don’t exist in actual historical periods. When should we set a novel about the Iliad? The Bronze Age, when Homer said it happened, or the Greek Dark Age, which is the culture Homer actually described? They’re pretty damn different. I’d probably call The Song of Achilles an historical fantasy, especially as mythical creatures are presented as real, like centaurs and god/desses.

Back to M/M Romance: I don’t have specific publishing stats, but it should surprise no one that (like most of the Romance genre), the vast bulk of authors of M/M Romance are women, often straight and/or bi- women. The running joke seems to be, If one hot man is good, two hot men together are better. 😉 Yes, there are also trans, non-binary and lesbian authors of M/M Romance, and of course, bi- and gay men who may write under their own name or a female pseudonym, but my understanding is that straight and bi- cis-women authors outnumber all of them.

Just being a woman, or even a person in a female body, does not protect that author from misogyny. And if she’s writing for fun, she may not be thinking a lot about what her story has to “say” in its subtext and motifs, even if she may be thinking quite hard about other aspects of story construction. This can be true of other genres as well (like historical fantasy).

What I have observed for at least some women authors is the unconscious adoption of popular tropes about women. Just as racism is systemic, so is sexism. We swim in it daily, and if one isn’t consciously considering how it affects us, we can buy into it by repeating negative ideas and acting in prescribed ways because that’s what we learned growing up. If writing in a symbol-heavy genre such as mythic-driven fantasy, it can be easy to let things slip by—even if they didn’t appear in the original myth, such as making Thetis hostile to Patroklos, the classic Bitchy Mother-in-Law archetype.

I see this sort of thing as “accidental” misogyny. Women authors repeat unkind tropes without really thinking them through because it fits their romantic vision. They may resent it and get defensive if the trope is pointed out. “Don’t harsh my squee!” We can dissect why these tropes persist, and to what degree they change across generations—but that would end up as a (probably controversial) book, not a blog entry. 😊

Yet there’s also subconscious defensive misogyny, and even conscious/semi-conscious misogyny.

Much debate/discussion has ensued regarding “Queen Bee Syndrome” in the workplace and whether it’s even a thing. I think it is, but not just for bosses. I also would argue that it’s more prevalent among certain age-groups, social demographics, and professions, which complicates recognizing it.

What is Queen Bee Syndrome? Broadly, when women get ahead at the expense of their female colleagues who they perceive as rivals, particularly in male-dominated fields, hinging on the notion that There Can Be Only One (woman). It arises from systemic sexism.

Yes, someone can be a Queen Bee even with one (or two) women buddies, or while claiming to be a feminist, supporting feminist causes, or writing feminist literature. I’ve met a few. What comes out of our mouths doesn’t necessarily jive with how we behave. And ticking all the boxes isn’t necessary if you’re ticking most of them. That said, being ambitious, or just an unpleasant boss/colleague—if its equal opportunity—does not a Queen Bee make. There must be gender unequal behavior involved.

What does any of that have to do with M/M fiction?

The author sees the women characters in her novel as rivals for the male protagonists. It gets worse if the women characters have some “ownership” of the men: mothers, sisters, former girlfriends/wives/lovers. I know that may sound a bit batty. You’re thinking, Um, aren’t these characters gay or at least bi- and involved with another man, plus—they’re fictional? Doesn’t matter. Call it fantasizing, authorial displacement, or gender-flipped authorial insert. We authors (and I include myself in this) can get rather territorial about our characters. We live in their heads and they live in ours for months on end, or in many cases, years. They’re real to us. Those who aren't authors often don’t quite get that aspect of being an author. So yes, sometimes a woman author acts like a Queen Bee to her women characters. This is hardly all, or even most, but it is one cause of creeping misogyny in M/M Romance.

Let’s turn to a related problem: women who want to be honorary men. While I view this as much more pronounced in prior generations, it’s by no means disappeared. Again, it’s a function of systemic sexism, but further along the misogyny line than Queen Bees. Most Queen Bees I’ve known act/react defensively, and many are (imo) emotionally insecure. It’s largely subconscious. More, they want to be THE woman, not an honorary man.

By contrast, women who want to be honorary men seem to be at least semi-conscious of their misogyny, even if they resist calling it that. These are women who, for the most part, dislike other women, regard most of “womankind” as either a problem or worthless, and think of themselves as having risen above their gender.

And NO, this is not necessarily religious—sometimes its specifically a-religious.

“I want to be an honorary man” women absolutely should NOT be conflated with butch lesbians, gender non-conformists, or frustrated FTMs. That plays right into myths the queer community has combated for decades. There’s a big difference between expressing one’s yang or being a trans man, and a desire to escape one’s womanhood or the company of other women. “Honorary men” women aren’t necessarily queer. I want to underscore that because the concrete example I’m about to give does happen to be queer.

I’ve talked before about Mary Renault’s problematic portrayal of women in her Greek novels (albeit her earlier hospital romances don’t show it as much). Her own recorded comments make it clear that she and her partner Julie Mullard didn’t want to be associated with other lesbians, or with women much at all. She was also born in 1905, living at a time when non-conforming women struggled. If extremely active in anti-apartheid movements in South Africa, Renault and Mullard were far less enthused by the Gay Rights Movement. Renault even criticized it, although she wrote back kindly to her gay fans.

The women in Renault’s Greek novels tend to be either bitches or helpless, reflecting popular male perceptions of women: both in ancient Greece and Renault’s own day. If we might argue she’s just being realistic, that ignores the fact one can write powerful women in historical novels and still keep it attitudinally accurate. June Rachuy Brindel, born in 1919, author of Ariadne and Phaedra, didn’t have the same problem, nor did Martha Rofheart, born in 1917, with My Name is Sappho. Brindel’s Ariadne is much more sympathetic than Renault’s (in The King Must Die).

Renault typically elevates (and identifies with) the “rational” male versus the “irrational” female. This isn’t just presenting how the Greeks viewed women; it reflects who she makes the heroes and villains in her books. Overall, “good” women are the compliant ones, and the compliant women are tertiary characters.

Women in earlier eras who were exceptional had to fight multiple layers of systemic misogyny. Some did feel they had to become honorary men in order to be taken seriously. I’d submit Renault bought into that, and it (unfortunately) shows in her fiction, as much as I admire other aspects of her novels.

So I think those are the three chief reasons we see women negatively portrayed in M/M Romance (or fiction more generally), despite being written by women authors.

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

*Yeah, yeah, sometimes it’s such 2D, shallow, stereotypical presentation that I, as a reader, can conclude this author isn’t going to get any better. Also, the publication date might give me a clue. If I’m reading something published 50 years ago, casual misogyny or racism is probably not a surprise. If I don’t feel like dealing with that, I close the book and put it away.

But I do try to give the author a chance. I may skim ahead to see if things change, or at least suggest some sort of character development. This is even more the case with a series. Some series take a loooong view, and characters alter across several novels. Our instant-gratification world has made us impatient. Although by the same token, if one has to deal with racism or sexism constantly in the real world, one may not want to have to watch it unfold in a novel—even if it’s “fixed” later. If that’s you, put the book down and walk away. But I’d just suggest not writing a scathing review of a novel (or series) you haven’t finished. 😉

#misogyny in m/m romance #how to avoid misogyny writing women characters #writing complicated women characters #asks #writing life #writing advice

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rpbetter · 4 years

Text

Reblog Etiquette (and ships)

At this point, we all know about “reblog karma” and “reblogging from source.” Though, I say that...and am questioning it. You should fucking know this by now, but in the event you don’t, let me define that shit for you.

Reblog Karma: the RPC’s oldest attempt at keeping people from clogging notifications and using others as meme resources. Essentially, don’t reblog a meme from a mutual unless you are sending them something from that meme first. Not all blogs practice it, or practice it the same way, please see their rules.

Reblogging from Source: another effort to stop being used as a meme/aesthetics resource. Many RPers would like you to reblog quotes, aesthetics, and memes from their source (original post location or the meme/aesthetics/quotes resource blog they got it from), even if you are sending them a meme. This is especially applicable when not interacting with the RPer.

Okay, that’s out of the way.

There is more to Reblog Etiquette than this!

And, when that etiquette is nonexistent, it almost always deals with a RPer’s ship. Mentioning ship partners and/or tagging ships on a reblog from another RPer, not removing that RPer’s mentions or tags, and even dropping a mention or outright RPing in the comments of another RPer’s reblog.

Don’t reblog from another mun and tag your ship or mention (@) your ship partner(s).

Don’t reblog a post with someone else’s mention still stuck to it.

Don’t reblog a post and leave the previous mun’s tags still in the tags.

Don’t go into the comments on someone’s post and mention your ship partner(s).

Don’t roleplay in the comments of someone else’s post.

None of this is alright, I have no idea what would make anyone think this is appropriate reblog etiquette, but it very much is not. It’s incredibly rude and lazy. Because I know that many people have similar ship aesthetics and so on, I’m not saying you shouldn’t reblog something for your own ships that a mutual has for theirs. (That’s a whole other in depth conversation we’ll have later.)

I’m saying that this is how you should be going about it:

Reblog from the source.

-What if there is no source because it’s deactivated, or there is another reason why I can’t access it?

Go into the post’s notes. At some point, damn near every post that could be used as an aesthetic, quote, or prompt for a ship (and RP in general) has been reblogged by at least one source blog. Look for RP meme, aesthetic, help, and other resource blog urls. If you cannot find one of those, look for urls that are general resource-style blogs. Personal blogs reblog aesthetics etc. as well, and there are many such resource blogs out there. -If you’re uncomfortable reblogging from a personal, that’s tough shit; I hate to break it to you, but most of your resources came from personal blogs. Deal with it, or don’t reblog anything you can’t find filtered through a RP specific resource.

-- “But this takes time/effort lol I just want to use it for my ship.” Again, tough shit. Sometimes, it does take energy not to be rude and do the right the thing. In all honesty, it’s fairly rare that doing the right thing is effortless, even when it’s something as simple as RP. Grow up.

--- You went through the notes, but there’s no appropriate blog to reblog from, now what?

Just because it’s a rare occurrence doesn’t mean it’s impossible. I know this one isn’t, I’ve had it happen too! My choice was to not reblog it at all, I just sent the link to my ship partner privately instead. If you don’t have that kind of friendship, you really wanted it on the dash, or another reason, you are now left with one option, and you’re not going to like it. Message the mutual you want to reblog from. Politely, explain that you’d like to reblog the post for your ship, and ask if they’re comfortable with it. No guilting, begging, or general, weird ass rudeness. If they decline, accept it just as politely, thank them for their response. If they accept, thank them, and especially if this isn’t a mutual you interact with much, be sure you’re showing them continued support on the dash by reading and liking/commenting on their headcanon posts and other appropriate material. (You should be anyway.)

Remove any mentions present (@’s)

Seriously, this is incredibly rude! Yet, with the typical lack of self-reflection and awareness of others in the RPC here, I see it multiple times a day on my dash. Not just with RP-blog-to-RP-blog interaction either, I also see RPers reblogging from personals and leaving their mentions attached. (I see it the other way around too, but I’m not here to school personal blogs.) For all the excessive emphasis RPers put on appearance, you’d think they’d want to get rid of something that looks this sloppy, but no. Not if it takes one extra second of effort!

-I know that xkit’s editable reblogs tends to break whenever tumblr gives us a new, exciting, hideous, insulting, limitation, I mean update, but come the fuck on. It is also one of the quickest things to regain functionality, so, maybe you should save the reblog to drafts, be following xkit’s blog for updates, and edit it once there has been a patch. If it’s worth it to you, it’s worth a short wait. When it’s working, you can easily remove that mention with editable reblogs.

--If you’re going to use being mobile as an excuse, or if you don’t want to wait on it/don’t use xkit, again, go to the source. And, also again, if that isn’t an option, you can find where it has been reblogged by an appropriate blog at some point in its history, sans mentions. Reblog from there.

Do not reblog someone else’s tags (#)

Some people have their xkit set up to reblog automatically with the previous poster’s tags. While that can be useful in some situations, I can think of, very literally, no situation this is appropriate for an RPer to use. If you have this set up on your personal/resource blog/wtfe and your RP blog is a sideblog (or you are using certain methods of having your browser open to two separate blog accounts where your xkit settings are transferring over), it’s up to you to delete the tags on these posts.

-It takes maybe one full second to click in the tag field and hit your delete button a few times to clear it. Do that. It’s never, ever, appropriate to keep someone’s ship, muse, verse, or other personalized tags attached to a reblog.

--If you are a personal blog reading this somehow, maybe you’re wanting to get into RP, please take note of this. This is one of the many reasons why most RPers will not interact with personals. We don’t like you reblogging an aesthetic post and keeping our tags on it.

In the case of both situations, not only is it rude and lazy, it’s fucking with someone else’s tags and privacy. Most RPers don’t want their content showing up in generally searchable tags, it’s one of the reasons that personalizing tags came about. Furthermore, if I’m on my dash and click a mutual’s custom tag for aesthetics, verses, ships, and so on, it’s now going to come up with instances of those tags on someone else’s blog as well.

Delete the fucking tags if they auto-populate. Don’t use someone else’s custom tags of your own volition either.

“Subverting” reblogs to mention in comments is a hard no, too

-So, you don’t want to reblog the post, but do want to @ your ship partner(s) in it? There’s no way to do that without being rude and strange. To be honest, this is even worse than just reblogging and tagging your ship.

I may not be the OP, but you came onto a post on my blog, one very likely tagged for my ships and/or having my ship partners mentioned on it, and commented on it mentioning your ship partner. It’s every bit as offensive and more so than someone reblogging from me and using it for a ship I’m not a part of. I don’t know what’s worse, when that other mun is a ship partner, casual mutual who doesn’t interact, or a writing partner but not ship partner. It’s all deeply fucked up. No one’s RP blog is here for your use like this!

--You’re also not subverting anything. I think the idea is to be polite or go unnoticed. People seem to lack a basic grasp on how tumblr works; you get notifications on reblogged posts you are not the OP of when someone comments on them just like you get a notif when someone likes it. The only way to genuinely be secretive about this would be to comment on it from the source or a resource blog. They will get the notification.

If you are commenting on, liking, or reblogging a post you see on the dash, the person having reblogged it, putting it there for you to encounter, will be notified of your interaction with it.

---What I’m saying, just in case it isn’t abundantly clear, for the third time now: you’re not being slick. Your mutuals will see that you weirdly @’ed someone in a comment on their reblog. They know.

----The appropriate behavior is to do just as advised in the above points: GO TO THE SOURCE. If no source exists, find an appropriate resource blog in the notes. You may then, and only then, give that mention in a comment.

Frankly, it’s still weird, and I would recommend you just reblog it from the source to interact with it. There is always the option of sending it to the intended party by way of tumblr’s messenger or linking the post in an off tumblr messenger like discord.

I say this because it hasn’t escaped my attention that the only time I have this issue on my own RP blog is when the imagery or text is fucking filthy. As in, Other Mun didn’t want something that sexual, kinky, violent, and so on to be posted to their own blog. You need to grow up if that’s your deal. Like writing smut or violence, if you need to do it in private only, you’re obviously not adult enough to handle the topic.

Keep your roleplay where it belongs; in your inbox and threads

-It’s not appropriate to start up RP in the comments of another RPer’s reblogged ship aesthetic. (Or anything else, this just happens to be the most common.) It’s incredibly odd and offensive to look in your notifications and see that a mutual and their ship partner are flirting, or outright fucking, in the comments of a post you reblogged for your ship.

It’s just as awkward feeling and offensive when someone reblogs the post and begins full-blown RP on it. It’s one thing when it’s a post originating from an RP resource blog, or when it’s kept to something like a mention and a short line that your writing partner can start their original post in inspiration of. But...

--You know how I said above that auto-copying tags thing is one of the reasons why RPers are iffy about personal blogs? Well, this is one of the reasons why personal blogs think RPers are exceedingly weird members of fandom that need to be excluded and devalued. It’s odd, especially if you’ve never encountered RP, to see someone reblogging your quote, moodboard, or other original post and RPing on it.

Listen, we all need to RP some crack and commentary sometimes, but it’s best left in the tags or put into a new post.

---Instead of RPing (not sorry, especially if it is smut) on that post, link the image to show in a new post, and go from there.

Please remember to be polite about artists, including photographers and gifers, when you do this! Tumblr automatically gives the source of imagery when you use a link to display the picture, that’s why I recommended doing that instead of saving, then re-uploading the image as though it is your own. If you’re going to do that, even if it’s just silliness going on, give mention of the artist, photographer’s blog/site, or gifer’s blog in the tag or below the image.

Tumblr is deeply unfriendly to artists of all sorts, don’t be fuel that. When you upload artwork for the sake of RP, again, even if it’s just crack, that’s literally violating what artists ask people not to do; you’re reposting their art without permission and credit.

#rp better #reblog etiquette #rp advice #rp help #psa #rp psa #mun behavior #ships #tumblr rpc

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doctorreids · 4 years

Text

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER NINE - this is me trying

previous chapter | next chapter

word count: 2k

“i’ve been having a hard time adjusting. i had the shiniest wheels, now they’re rusting.”

SPENCER

He knew that the first case back would be difficult, to say the least. However, he hadn’t accounted for it being this hard.

He felt as though his brain is completely scrambled - so many theories flying around his head are blocked by the memory of the nights prior and he doesn’t know what to do.

He sat at the roundtable listening to Garcia rant off the details of the case - four young women murdered, all within one month of each other in Baltimore, and each worked in high-paid, male-dominated fields. He knew that it was likely to be a male who was envious of their achievements, a husband scorned by his wife being paid more than him, or a man who believed women did not belong in the workplace. He didn’t say anything, kept his eyes on his file. He was too afraid that if he spoke the tears would fall again.

He was too afraid to look up and see her.

They usually sat beside each other on the plane but this time she tucked herself in beside Emily, he noticed how tense her shoulders were, how she never held anyone’s gaze, how she hadn’t looked at him at all. He knew that it was his fault but he refused to let himself dwell on that guilt. Instead, he turned the wheels in his brain towards the case. He forced out any memory of the prior nights and replaced them with the pictures and words in the case file in front of him.

By the time they'd landed he followed Rossi into the SUV and ignored the concerned looks of the man he came to know as a kind-of father figure as they walked into the local PD. Geographic profiling was the only thing he cared about, everything else faded away.

As he stared at the map before him, nothing seemed to fit. Each crime scene in a different area, no clear comfort zone for the UNSUB, and no clear answer for him. He was frustrated. He felt like he was rusted, like the gears in his brain that ran smoothly were jammed, unmoving, and broken.

He felt utterly useless and helpless.

His mistakes with the geographic profile were proof of that. He had hardly listened to anything that was going on with the case, trying instead to figure it out himself. But when he found himself standing in front of them all, he noticed his mistakes.

The first words she had spoken to him in days were pointing out his mistakes. The irony of the situation made him want to cry. So, he did what she did all those days ago. He left, letting the door swing past him, he ignored the soft call from JJ, and the confused looks from Emily. As soon as he felt the cool air of the small bathroom, he let the tears he had been keeping in fall for the first time.

“and maybe I don’t quite know what to say, but I’m here in your doorway. i just wanted you to know that this is me trying.”

“Spencer.”

It was Derek.

“Kid, I know you’re in there. I-“ his voice broke, “I just want to help you.”

He slid the lock out of the bathroom door and wiped his face before he opened it. He was met with the most concerned look on Derek’s face, mixed with confusion and sadness.

“What happened, kid?”

“We… we broke up.”

“Oh.” There wasn’t much he could say.

“I messed up, I know I did. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

There was a beat of stillness between them, Derek let out a soft sigh.

“Look at me kid.”

He looks up from his scuffed converse.

“I don’t know what happened between you both, I cannot tell you how to fix each individual problem. What I can tell you is that you love each other.”

“So I should let her go, is that what you’re saying?”

“God no, kid,” he recoiled at his absurd assumption, “I’m trying to tell you that you both love each other, you think she hung the stars in the sky. Sometimes people just get lost and need time away from each other to find each other again.”

He continued, “Love is a tricky thing. It’s full of compromises and disagreements, but you have to be able to push through that. I know how much you fear losing her, but so does she. Fight for her.”

“I-i… I don’t know how to. She’s the only person I know inside and out and I can’t figure out how to get her to stay.”

Derek pauses, unsure about his next few words.

“Are you sure you’re not the one running away, Spencer?”

Now it was his turn to be stunned by the absurdity of the question.

“Derek,” his voice was stern, “just tell me how to fix this”

Derek’s eyes soften once again at his desperation.

“There’s nothing that cannot be fixed if you just tell her how you feel, kid” With that, he turned and left him in the bathroom, alone.

His eyes found his own reflection, he examined the deep circles under his eyes, lined with red leading to his tear-stained cheeks. Splashing cold water on his face, he adjusted his tie and jacket. With one deep breath, he walked back out into the precinct.

No one was in the conference room, Hotch had left a note to say there was another victim. Then he noticed it.

The coffee cup sat beside his files, a small smiley face on it. It was from her. For the first time in days, he smiled.

Y/N

“they told me all my cases were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential and my words shoot to kill when I’m mad, i have a lot of regrets about that.”

She was rarely angry, her temper was typically calm and collected. She’d been scorned and hurt enough in the past, by friends and ex-partners, that if you hold onto anger it will only increase the pain you inflict on yourself.

The first case back with Spencer, she decided, was the exception to the rule she made herself.

She came into work as early as she could with the knowledge that Hotch would be in his office, grinding away at the endless mountains of paperwork that lay on each of their desks. She was brief when she told him that her relationship with Spencer ceased to exist. They were finished.

Hotch didn’t even try to hide his disbelief. If she was honest with herself, she could not believe she was uttering out loud that they were over.

The weekend, however, had given her time. Time to think about what had happened. She was conflicted; she wanted to hear him out but she also thought she would be able to predict what he would say. She couldn’t. She had no idea why he could not deal with her anymore, with their relationship. She wracked her brain to try and figure what was plaguing him.

She came up empty each time.

Despite her earnest wishes to fix things, he didn’t look at anyone. He didn’t even speak. He just sat there completely mute. That pissed her off.

She told herself she didn’t know why but, in reality, she did. She wanted him to say anything, didn’t even need to be an apology, all she wanted to hear was him rant off some facts about women in the workplace or the percentage of women who earn more than their husbands. But he didn’t.

It angered her that he just bottled up - that he wouldn’t even just carry on, do his damn job. But this was Spencer and she thought she knew him. The first case back, she thought, proved to her that she didn’t know him at all.

So she was snippy. Snide remarks here and there, pointing out that he had missed some locations on the geographic profile, getting coffee for everyone but him.

She regrets her sharp tongue at times but in some twisted way, her sharp words gave her power over him she didn’t have a few nights prior. The power to hurt him as much as he hurt her. She let the worst get ahead of her, she failed to notice the dejected looks on his face when she passed him by without a word. She tried her best to not profile him, to not profile the cracks in his voice when he spoke or the way the bags around his eyes were darker than usual.

“So, this is the UNSUBs comfort zone, so far we have four victims killed a month apart so there is no sign of escalation other than the violence of the crime.”

The map was wrong. He had messed each victim up and, like before, it pissed her off.

“Your profile is wrong.”

Those were the first words she spoke directly to him. The whole room went silent, waiting for whatever it was bubbling under the surface to erupt. She regretted them as soon as she said them.

“Pardon?” His voice was small, so quiet you wouldn’t have heard it at first.

“Victim four was found where you’ve placed victim two, therefore making your profile wrong. The locations are significant for the UNSUB, they form a pattern.” She pauses. “If you actually engaged with any of us you would know that.”

She knew it was cruel but she was angry. She was hurt. She had loaded her gun and fired.

Hotch’s stern voice cut through the silence.

“Y/L/N. A word.”

She knew she’d fucked up. She just didn’t know how to fix it.

“it’s hard to be anywhere these days when all i want is you. you’re a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town.…i just wanted you to know that this is me trying.”

After that case, Hotch had lectured her about how unprofessional she was. She didn’t need to be told though, she already knew. It had been a few cases since and even though working alongside Spencer had gotten easier, to some degree, being apart from him had gotten even harder.

Going home to an empty apartment to simply play out their shared memories in her mind was like a slow death, thousands of cuts and scars covering her. She could hardly concentrate on anything on the TV without wondering whether Spencer would enjoy it, or catching some old movie they’d watched together.

If she knew one thing about herself is that she found it easier to make people hate her rather than accept their love, it was easier to push people away than to make them understand. So, she twisted in every knife in her back before they were even there in the first place.

She was disappointed in herself. She wasn’t a quitter - she should’ve fought for him but she knew she didn’t have the answers she kept searching for. She still couldn’t quite explain why everything had fallen apart.

The cycle of questions and no answers made her angry. It made her even angrier that he didn’t seem to fight for her either - he’d shown no signs of wanting to talk, even just small talk on the weather. She couldn’t begin to describe how much she missed listening to him talk about anything, especially his ramblings and, for lack of a better term, his knowledge dumps.

She just wanted to feel like herself again, there were too many nights that she got lost in him for her to know herself. Now that she was alone, she was trapped, strapped into a seat of a movie theatre, forced to watch their relationship build, grow, and crumble over and over again.

She questioned why she made him and left him the coffee that day. She tried to tell herself it was her way of saying that she was sorry for being so cruel. If she was being honest, she wanted him to know she was trying. Trying her best to fix what she had broken.

Each day she stepped into the office, he was there and she felt like running. That urge dwindled as the days passed, but it’s a reminder to herself that she’s trying.

Trying to be a better person for herself. For him. For everyone else.

As Hotch told her, “you can only fix this when you have fixed yourself. Until then, you try.”

...

taglist: @itsfangirlmendes @toosassy2handle@toosassy2handle @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @rexorangecouny @myheartbelongsintz @toizerdecker @baddestbau @haylaansmi @hess016 @blameitonthenight21

#spencer #reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #reidxfolklore

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 years

Note

Can I get Korekiyo and Kaito both having a crush on the ultimate Astrologist (more involved with the stories behind the constellations than horoscopes) and realizing the other has taken a liking to said ultimate?

“I see you’ve fallen for [y/n]. Am I wrong?”

“H-Huh? How did you--oh..I forgot you’re good at reading expressions.” The Ultimate Astronaut chuckled as he looked at Korekiyo. “Well..yeah! I mean they’re the Ultimate Astrologist, for crying out loud! We’d be a perfect match!”

“...is that all? You only see them for their infatuation for the universe?”

“No, there’s obviously more to it than that!” Kaito huffed, growing a bit annoyed at the questions about his crush. “They’re just..fun and cool and I like hanging out with them. But..I wanna tell them how I really feel. Why wait?”

“I wouldn’t charge headfirst into the field of love like a reckless bull,” the anthropologist warned. “You must carefully consider how you wish to express your true feelings. Love can be a beautiful, but also ugly, thing.”

“.....sheesh, alright “love expert”. Then maybe you could gimme advice on what I should do.”

“Kehehe, I’d be glad to.”

Little did Kaito know, Korekiyo was frowning slightly under his mask--for he shared the same feelings with you, too.

But maybe talking with the astronaut would help him figure out how to confess his own feelings to you first.

..........

“Kaito and Korekiyo have been acting weird today. They seem to be avoiding me for some reason...did I do something?”

“Hmmmmm...I am not sure, but Atua is certain you’ve done no wrong to them!”

“That’s reassuring, thanks.” You sighed as you continued painting a constellation on the canvas.

Today you were just hanging out with Angie; she invited you to her lab to paint, and you were glad she did. Lately you’ve noticed both Kaito and Korekiyo behaving rather...strange.

Both of them left random gifts at your door, but you never actually got to see them in-person. Although you appreciated the surprises, you wondered what their true intentions were.

Of course, you were still best friends with them, though you weren’t sure why they were avoiding you.

“Ah!” Angie suddenly gasped. “Auta has given me another vision! Kaito and Korekiyo are both...in your lab!”

You nearly dropped your paintbrush. “...they what? You serious?”

“Oh, [y/n]..I know you wouldn’t defy His words,” she giggled innocently. “You can leave your painting here to dry while you investigate!”

“I think I will.” You got up to leave the lab, wanting to figure out what those two wanted. “Thank you, Angie. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye-yonara~!”

............

“The hell?!! I thought your “true love” was-”

“I was mistaken. I’ve...come to a realization that I admire [y/n] a lot more..perhaps even more than just as a friend.”

“As if they’d ever talk to some creep like you! You don’t even give a damn about outer space!”

“On the contrary, I’ve heard plenty of tales from them about constellations. Humanity is fascinating, but..beyond that lies even more wonders I haven’t even considered-”

“Wait a second, didn’t you accuse me of liking them just for their talent earlier?! Then what the hell are you doing now?!!”

“There’s no need to shout, Kaito-”

"So Angie was right.”

Both men jumped as they glanced over at you, seeing you standing in the doorway of your lab with confusion. Then they looked at each other, before staring at the gifts in their hands, sweating nervously.

“You guys leave me gifts all day, barge into my lab, and suddenly clam up when I appear? That’s not like either of you at all.” You huffed, waiting for an explanation.

Finally, Kaito gave in. “Fine. I can explain.” He nearly tripped as he handed you his gift, a blush forming on his face before he tried running out of the room-

Only for you to grab the back of his coat.

“I’m a dead man!!”

“Kaito, enough. Just tell me what’s gotten into you. You’re acting like you got a crush on me or something.”

“....!” The astronaut stiffened up immediately.

“....um-”

“O-Okay, you got me..” He turned around, coughing nervously. “Jeez..this wasn’t how I expected my confession to go, but...yeah.”

“Neither did I.” Korekiyo gave you his gift next, grateful his mask hid his own blush. “But it seems..we have a dilemma on our hands. A sort of love triangle.”

“You, too, Kork?” You were surprised, but also flustered, that your two close friends actually took a liking to you.

For some time now, you’ve held the same feelings. Though..you couldn’t really choose who you wanted to be with more. You’ve captured both of their hearts..and it seems only one could be yours.

Unless..

“How unfortunate.” The anthropologist lamented. “If..you do accept one of our poorly-executed confessions...one of us is walking out of here with a broken heart. That’s the ugliness of human love, especially in rare conflicts such as this.”

“Damn..any way you look at it, Kiyo’s right. But hey, at least we did get to confess! There’s no pressure, [y/n]!” Kaito grinned. “Just listen to your heart and whoever it chooses is-”

“Who says I gotta choose?”

“Eh?” They both stared at you, confused.

You just chuckled and set the gifts on the table, adding to the collection you’ve already received. “If you both like me then..I can live with that. Surely there’s some way we can work this out.”

“..oh, I see. So what you’re saying is...you wouldn’t mind a polyamorous relationship?” Korekiyo mused.

“A poly what now?”

“It’s a kind of relationship that involves intimacy with more than one partner. While considered taboo in most religions..it puts great emphasizes on trust and honesty, and reaps great benefits.”

“Huh...I never even thought that existed,” Kaito mumbled, though he turned back to you. “But..I guess that’s alright! If you like both of us, then there’s no way I’d ever force you to choose!”

“Then that settles it. I accept both of your confessions.” With a smile, you walked up to the pair and hugged them. Their arms wrapped around you in return, which were warm and comforting.

“But..you two idiots really had me worried sick that I did something wrong. Try not to do that again.”

“My apologies.”

“Hey, d-don’t call me an idiot!!”

#i love these two ahhhh thank you ;w;#clanask #anonymous #danganronpa x reader #drv3 #kaito momota #kaito momota x reader #korekiyo shinguji #korekiyo shinguji x reader #fluff #poly relationship

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

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Dr. Maël Halvorg (Fae)

Rating: Teen Relationship: Male Part-Fae/Female Part Fae Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Fae, Naga, Reader Insert, Anthropology, Genetics Content Warnings: Children, Pregnancy, Incubation, Infertility Words: 4723

A commission by @ivymemnoch! With Amai and Yenuno's children getting older, they need a teacher, and Amai calls a friend to help out. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“Amai, it’s great to hear from you!” You said, sitting back and sipping a coffee. You were typing up reports at your desk when she called. “God, it’s been forever since we last spoke. How are Yenuno and the children?”

You were surprised to get a call from your old friend while you were working overseas. You and Amai had gone to college together, and while she was getting a law degree in civil rights, you were studying anthropology. You were both in fields specializing in non-humans, which is why you were studying together.

There was a college that offered specific studies in exology, or the study of non-human sentient life, Exanian University. It provided classes in medicine, law, sociology, politics, cultural exo-anthropology, and many other subjects that focused solely on non-humans.

It was established in the early 1890’s and originally only taught humans about the nine Established races. The Established were allowed to attend school in the 50’s, and during the Neogon rights movement in the 80’s, the campus and curriculum was expanded to included education on the newer races that had begun to emerge as well as open its doors to non-humans. In addition, they began to petition and encourage other colleges to offer exological studies. Many alumni of E.U. were now teaching exological studies at other colleges.

You were now a research professor for E.U., studying newly emerged races and reaching out to those shy about integrating. When you first started your career, Amai and the firm where she worked would often help draw up protection papers for the new races until they were formally recognized as a Neogon race and therefore protected under the Neogon act, which granted them the same rights as humans and the Established. Though, as time went on, new races were much rarer, and you hadn’t needed their services. The surprise call was the first time you’d spoken in months, and you hadn’t seen her face-to-face in eight years.

“They’re well, thank you!” She said. “Whereabouts are you these days?”

“Portugal,” You replied. “We’ve had reports that the Encante people may actually exist, and we’ve been attempting to locate and make contact with them. Unfortunately, because they’re underwater creatures, they’re ability to shapeshift, and their reputation as seducers in the mythology of the region, it hasn’t been an easy task. Although, several people in the local villages claim to have Encantado ancestry, so we’re running blood tests to determine the legitimacy of that claim. If they’re blood comes back with unidentified DNA, we can start the protected race process. I assume that’s why you’re calling? You must have heard the news from Song. I sent him an email about drawing up papers a few days ago.”

“He did tell me, yes, and that’s wonderful news,” She replied. “But that’s actually not why I’m calling.”

“Oh?” You’re head rocked back, surprised. “To what do I owe the pleasure, then?”

“Well,” She sighed heavily. “The older children are at the developmental stage enough now where they should begin school, and the younger ones could use some help with supplemental skills. But both Yenuno and Dr. Halvorg don’t think putting them in a normal school a good idea, so I’ve been outvoted. At the very least, they need a tutor. I’ve done what I can on my own, but I’m not a very good teacher. At least, not for fifteen children. Soon to be eighteen, actually.”

“You’re carrying a new clutch?” You said, excited. “That’s wonderful! Yenuno must be very happy.”

“He is, and so am I,” She said, sounding please but tired. “Although we think this might be the last one. My body isn’t recovering as quickly as it used to and Yenuno worries about my health.”

“Understandable. So why did you call me?”

“Well, Yenuno doesn’t know anything about the educational system, having grown up in the wild, and Dr. Halvorg wants to hire some stuffy colleague of his who will bore the kids into a drooling stupor. Halvorg won’t accept anything less than the best, which I mean… I guess it’s nice that he wants the kids to have nothing but the utmost quality, I just wish he wasn’t so damn rigid. He needs to get laid, honestly,” She huffed, and you stifled a laugh. “Do you have someone you could recommend?”

“To get him laid?”

She snorted. “No! You know what I mean. Do you think any of your colleagues at the university would be interested in educating the children of a rare, endangered race? That’s got to have appeal to you academic types, right?”

“Hmm,” You hummed, sitting back in your chair and contemplating. “I’m not sure. You know, it occurs to me that I’ve never even met your children. Or your husband, for that matter.” You sat up and looked at your calendar. “You know what? I’m due for a vacation. Why don’t I come back state-side and meet all of your little ones? I can get a better idea of who would be a good fit for them. I know several people in early education who could be great for tutoring a large group of children at different development levels.”

“Ah, you’re a lifesaver, thank you so much,” Amai said. “I’ll owe you one big time.”

“Just find me a man and we’ll call it even,” You said, laughing. “I’ll text you when my schedule frees up and we’ll make some plans.”

Two weeks later, you stepped off the plane of the airport in Coleville and rented a car. Willowridge was an out of the way town that had the E.U. campus where you and Amai had gone to school. It was a little bit of a drive from the city to get there, but Coleville had the closest airport.

You arrived at the research facility sometime around mid-afternoon, greeted out front by Amai and her youngest child, Yenu. Yenu was a 50/50 hybrid between naga and human, which was unheard of; all other hybrids were a 95/5 percent split since the males both created and fertilized the eggs. Females were simply incubators in the breeding process. Yenu was a curious mix between Amai and her father, from her stubby little legs to her long snake tail and the blue scales running down her neck and back. From an academic perspective, it’s no wonder this Dr. Halvorg was so keen on keeping her and her siblings in the facility for study.

On the other hand, she was adorable, and the entire world needed to know about it. You wondered how many specialists actually knew about her existence and why there wasn’t more published about her in scientific literature. You’re fairly sure there was only one article based on her, and it was authored by Dr. Halvorg. They were likely keeping her under strict protections until she was older, to spare her the media circus.

“It’s so good to see you!” You said as you scooped her into a hug. Her belly wasn’t big yet, but you could feel it’s hardness against your own belly. Yenu squealed happily in her arms as you squished the two of them.

“You, too!” She said, kissing your cheek. “How was the drive?”

“Scenic, as always,” You said, following her as she went inside. “I got the email from Dr. Halvorg last night about accommodations. You’re right: he’s a little abrupt, but in all honestly I’ve yet to meet a geneticist that isn’t.”

“Believe it or not, he’s way less uptight than he used to be. The children really help lighten him up.”

“He likes kids?” You said, your opinion of him rising slightly.

“Oh, very much,” She said, then her voice lowered to a sad whisper. “He can’t have any children, apparently. His kind are bad breeders, he says.”

“His kind?”

“He’s part fae,” She replied.

“Oh,” You said, frowning. “That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“Well, I’m part fae, too, and I have three brothers. And I know of several subraces of fae that are prolific breeders, several of which I helped integrate myself. Exogenetics is still an evolving science. Perhaps he has been so focused on his current work that he hasn’t checked recent literature in the field. He’s been working in conservation for several decades, didn’t you say? I’ll make some calls and see what I can find.”

“I forgot you were part fae,” She said thoughtfully. “What subrace are you, again?”

“Russian Bereginya,” You replied. “What is he?”

“I’ve never asked,” She said. “He very rarely talks about himself at all. Honestly, it seems like a sore subject with him, so I’ve never brought it up. Even Yenuno seems hesitant to ask, and he gets along better with Dr. Halvorg than I do. The only reason I know his first name is because I’ve seen it on official reports. Only the children are allowed to say it, even if it’s to call him ‘Uncle Maël’.”

“A hard nut to crack, huh?” You asked as she led you into the public lobby and fished out a personnel I.D. badge.

“You could say that,” She said. “He and I don’t always see eye to eye, at least.” She swiped her card in a card slot and pressed her thumb on the printpad. “I’ve got a temporary I.D. waiting for you in the back. It’ll be good for the next two weeks. Let me know if you decide to stay longer, and I’ll have the expiration extended.”

“Sure, thanks,” You said.

“You’re about to meet the man himself,” She said as she walked though an automatic sliding door. “Plus my man, and my children. You remember their names?”

You nodded. “It’ll take me a while to match names to faces, though. You always were an overachiever.”

She laughed.

The two of you walked into what looked like the receiving room of a warehouse, except it was empty. There was a large, rolling aluminum wall that was raised and led to a forested area outside. There was an enclosed greenhouse type thing that had several nests built, as well as a cottage at the far end.

Each little nest had a small body with blue scales and warm almond skin lying in it, curled up into a coil, eyes closed and breathing softly. The cottage at the far end also had a movable wall, which was up, and a large, blue naga with long, straight, black hair and pale skin was sitting there, typing on a laptop that was perched on a standing desk.

“Yenuno is a bit socially shy, so he connects with others through the internet,” Amai whispered. “It’s about as much social interaction with the outside world as he can tolerate sometimes.”

“It must be naptime,” You whispered back, nodding toward the kids.

She laughed softly. “The older ones only need to eat once a day now, depending on the size of their prey, and they get tired after hunting and feeding, so we schedule it for noon. They should be up soon, though.”

She waved her hand to get Yenuno’s attention. He looked up and smiled, closing the laptop. He slithered down the ramp, over to Amai to plant a kiss on her lips, and then took Yenu in his arms, tossing her up once to make her giggle before squishing her in a big hug and blowing a raspberry into her cheek. Amai shushed him.

“Let’s go to the lounge to talk,” Amai said quietly. “Yenuno, this is my friend I told you about, the professor from E.U.”

“It’s nice to meet you finally,” Yenuno said as the three--no, four--of you went to a sitting area nearby. Half of the room had chairs and a couch, while the other side had cushions with a table in between. “Amai has told me many stories about you.”

“Most of them are true,” You said, sitting. “But I won’t say which.”

He laughed and set Yenu on the floor in front of him, watching her carefully as she scooted her way across the carpet. “Dr. Halvorg will be around soon. He usually talks to the children after their naps about their hunting experiences.”

“Jeez, I thought I was a workaholic,” You said. “Does he ever relax?”

“Not that I’ve ever seen,” Amai said, handing you a cup of coffee from the bar behind the couch. “If he’s awake, he’s in research mode. He even works through meals.”

“Well, I’ll hope he’ll make some time so I can discuss the children’s developments with him.”

“Oh, if it’s for the kids, he’ll make time,” Yenuno replied. “He’s practically adopted them.”

“I swear, if he thought he could get away with it, he’d forge our signatures on adoption papers,” Amai said sardonically.

“Speak of the devil,” Yenuno said, jerking his head at the open loading space near the greenhouse. A man stood there, surveying the sleeping children for a moment before heading over to the lounge area. He was thin and tall with long, white-blonde hair in a sleek braid down his back. He was pale complected and had a sharp, angular face with bushy eyebrows and vivid, amber colored eyes. His ears had a definitive point to them.

Yep, definitely Celtic fae heritage; you could spot it a mile away. It’s true that the Celtic fae populace had dwindled over the years, though you hadn’t really considered why. You chalked it up to interbreeding with other races or being edged out of their territory. Historically, since fae were immortal, or at least very long lived, they often didn’t feel the biological incentive that mortal creatures felt to procreate. Could their long-held disinterest in breeding have eventually rendered them infertile? That was a startling thought.

“Is this the professor I’ve heard so much about?” Dr. Halvorg asked as he approached. Yenu toddled her way over to him on her short little legs and he picked her up, popping her onto his hip like a pro.

“Yes,” Amai said and introduced you. Dr. Halvorg used his free hand to shake yours.

“Lovely to meet you,” He said. “I look forward to working with you. You have an impressive reputation. I’ve actually been following your progress for quite a while.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Oh, yes,” He replied, shifting a squealing Yenu to the opposite hip. “You’re the foremost anthropologist in the field currently. You and your team are responsible for integrating over thirty percent of known Neogon races in the last ten years. As a geneticist, as a scientist, seeing the steady expansion and confirmation of known non-human races happen in my lifetime is pretty incredible to watch.”

“Wow,” You said, stunned. “I didn’t realize I had such a reputation.”

“Well, you’ve been in the field for a long time,” He said with a smile. “It’s not surprising that you might not be aware of the impact your work has had on the world.”

You may have blushed, but you’d never have admitted it. Thankfully you were spared from finding a way to follow up that statement by a range of sleepy groans issuing from the enclosure. One by one, the children began to stretch and yawn and make their way over to their parents, the first of which was one of the youngest.

“Mommy!” He said, his curly hair bouncing as he slithered over the lip of the carpeted lounge area. “Who’s that?” He pointed directly at me.

“Osan, it’s not polite to point!” She said sharply. “This is my friend who I told you was coming to meet all of you. Wait for your brothers and sisters to get over here before we start introductions, okay?”

Osan shot across the enclosure to rudely awaken the rest of his siblings. His excited hollering echoed throughout the empty enclosure.

“Ah, youth. I’d love to siphon some of that energy and drink it like an espresso,” Amai said.

“Girl, I hear that,” You replied, chuckling.

A small army of nearly identical naga children came following Osan, curious about you, chattering and craning their necks to get a better look at you.

“Kids, line up, line up,” Yenuno said, wading out into the sea of small clones of himself. “These are the five year olds: Keenai, Tani, Fuma, and Amaia. The four year olds: Nenish, Tahara, and Sadji. The three year olds: Jinsa, Ishni, Chidil, Itheti, and Dashu. The two year olds: Osan and Khuzho. And little Yenu is eight months old.”

“I don’t know how you tell them all apart,” You laughed.

“I have a mole!” Sadji said, pointing at it. “See!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” You said, bending down to pat his head. He shook off your hand but laughed. You tickled his chubby cheek and he giggled, trying to fend you off.

“So what would you like to do?” Amai said. “I assume you already have a plan.”

“Yes,” You said. “I’d like to interview each child with a behavioral therapist and get a sense of their development levels myself, and then Dr. Halvorg and I will compare notes. I can make my determination then.”

“Sounds good,” Amai replied. “But it doesn’t have to be today, does it? You just got into town. I’d love to take you out for an early dinner, if you haven’t eaten. Yenuno hunted with the kids, so he likely won’t eat again until morning.”

“Sure, I’d love to,” You said. “Dr. Halvorg, do you have dinner plans?”

“Oh, no, I have a lot of work to do,” He said. “Besides, I’m sure the two of you will want to catch up. Please, enjoy yourselves. If you all would excuse me, I have a report to write.” He kissed Yenu on the cheek before handing her back to Amai and tousled a few of the kids’ hair as he passed. “Come along, children. Let’s do our interviews and I’ll take you all out to the playground.”

The kids cheered and followed him down the hall to the offices.

“You weren’t lying, Amai, he is really good with kids,” You said.

“Between him and the volunteers, we never have to hire a babysitter, which is nice,” Yenuno replied.

“Some days, it’s his only redeeming feature,” Amai said with a sour smile. “I still haven’t quite forgiven him for what happened when I was pregnant with Yenu. If I sit too long, thinking about it, I get mad all over again.”

“Think of the eggs, my love,” Yenuno said patiently, patting her belly. “He’s apologized many times since then. You can’t hold a grudge forever.”

“I absolutely can,” She said churlishly. “I understand his job is conserving and repopulating your species, but our marriage is an entirely separate thing and he can keep his nose out of it.”

“Well, let’s get a cheesecake and forget all about it,” You suggested.

“Sound good to me,” She said. She kissed Yenuno on the lips and waved goodbye to him. “There’s a new Italian place that’s got really good reviews.”

“No seafood! Or wine!” Yenuno called after her.

“This ain’t my first rodeo!” She called back.

The Italian place was as good as Amai said it was, and the two of you went to Tumble’s Cafe for dessert and coffee. Tumble had actually been a client of Amai’s when a hate crime had been committed against him. Now his wife and kids had two shops open in town and were doing very well for themselves.

Lucy, Tumble’s wife, was a few years your junior and a mother of three. Amai and Lucy had become close friends over the years and they were both in an interspecies mommy group. You knew of her, since you’d both grown up in the same small town, but you hadn’t actually met her before. Amai told you that the triplets often played with her children at the park, and you had to stop for a moment and contemplate the strange image of bunnies and snakes playing together.

“Is this the professor?” Lucy asked as you came in with Amai.

“Did you tell the whole town I was coming?” You asked Amai.

“I didn’t need to,” Amai replied with a laugh. “Word gets around.”

“What can I get you guys?” Lucy asked, a big smile on her freckled face.

“Coffee and cheesecake to go, please,” You said.

“Oh, no coffee for me,” Amai interjected. “Can I have a decaf iced cinnamon chai instead?”

“You got it. Whipped cream on top?”

“Yes, please. Where’s Tumble?”

“Putting the kids to bed upstairs,” Lucy said. “Such a good daddy. We’re talking about having more.”

“More than three?” You asked as she handed you a steaming cup of coffee. “I can’t imagine having more than two, at the most.”

“I guess it comes with having a non-human partner who’s used to the idea of having many children,” Lucy said, nodding at Amai, who tilted her head in agreement. “Not all non-humans have litters or clutches, but the ones who do always want more kids. At least the girls are in school now andTumble gave me a good five years before asking for another litter, unlike supermom over here. How’s that going on your end, by the way?”

“That’s why the professor is here,” Amai said, bumping you slightly with her shoulder. “She just got in today. The evaluations start tomorrow.”

“Well, good luck.” She handed you a box that contained two generous slices of cheesecake.

“Thanks, Lucy,” Amai said as the two of you left. “I’m sure I’ll be back in here soon. Tumble’s pastries are the best in town.”

“I’ll tell him you said that!” Lucy said with a laugh, waving.

The next morning, you began setting up for the individual assessments when Dr. Halvorg entered the room.

“Good morning,” You said. “Are you observing with the behavioral specialist?”

“I am the behavioral specialist,” He said. “I have a PhDs in child psychology and clinical psychology.”

“How many degrees do you have?” You asked, impressed.

“A few,” He admitted. “I’ve been alive for quite a long time, so I go back every once in a while to get another, or for a refresher. The education for each degree is much different now than it was fifty years ago.”

“How old are you?” You asked. “I know you’re part fae.”

“Amai told you that, eh?”

“Maybe,” You replied. “I mean, I’m part fae, too, so it’s not like I’m bothered by it.”

“You are?” He asked, looking at you keenly. “That wasn’t in your dossier. European?”

“Russian, and it’s not really a secret. I’m surprised you didn’t already know; I figured Amai would have said something. I was actually thinking you and I should have a conversation about that.”

He looked at you with an indecipherable expression and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, one of the eldest children came in the door.

“Later,” He said. You nodded.

The evaluations were interesting. The children were advanced for their ages, though Dr. Halvorg told you that was normal among nagas, who had to mature quickly in the wild. Watching them problem solve during the assessment was actually fascinating. They grasped new concepts relatively quickly and were wildly curious. They actually seemed happy to learn new and unusual things and kept asking you about your work with new races. You imagined they got a lot of that exuberance from Amai. Yenuno seemed a great deal more anxious and withdrawn.

The assessments took the entire day, and Dr. Halvorg asked you back to his office to compare notes when they were done.

“I think Ishni is slightly behind the others in his age group, or rather his brothers are more advanced. Honestly, it’s hard to tell with nagas. Their development is so unusual.”

“I would agree,” Dr. Halvorg said. “With Ishni being behind, that is. But it’s nothing some focused work won’t fix. The rest of them are advancing well, based on the available statistics for their age groups.”

“Yes, it’s shocking how quickly they pick up new things. I wouldn’t be surprised if they completed a full curriculum in just a few years.”

“Based on today’s evaluations, do you have a candidate in mind who would work for them?” He asked.

You sighed heavily. “I do,” You said. “I actually know of several that would be good fits. Unfortunately, all of those people are currently under contract.”

“Oh,” Dr. Halvorg said. “I thought you said you knew someone who would be perfect for this job.”

“I said early development!” You replied. “But these children don’t need early development. That’s shapes and colors and numbers and things like that. All of these kids can already read. Even the two year olds! They need more advanced tutelage, and I didn’t realize that when Amai first asked.”

“So what would you recommend?”

You sat back in your chair. “Give me a few days to think it over and make some calls and I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, just go about things as normal. I’d like to observe how things run here naturally.”

“Is that in reference to the search for an educator?”

“No, it’s for my own personal observations,” You said, smiling. “I am still an exo-anthropologist, after all, and quite honestly, the last couple of days have been riveting.”

He grinned. “A woman after my own heart.”

Two nights later, you walked into the enclosure after dinner to a strange sight: Dr. Halvorg reading the kids a bedtime story. He was sitting on the ground in the circle of nests and reading from a big book of non-human fairy tales. Race appropriate ones, of course. It was so unusual that all you could do was lean against the doorframe and listen.

When he finished, he helped settle all of the children and wished them a good night, and set the lights to starlight, with little pinpricks of light shining through the ceiling. When he saw you, he walked over.

“So, no good,” You said. “There aren’t any teachers who can come in on short notice.”

He sighed unhappily. “Well, what now?”

“I’ve decided that until they make contact with the Encante people, I’m not needed, so I might as well make the most of my time here and be the kids’ tutor until I need to go back or a teacher is made available.”

“Really?” Dr. Halvorg said, surprised. “Well, the kids like you, and you’re certainly well-educated. Have you ever taught before?”

“Briefly at E.U.,” You replied. “I taught one year of anthropology. It was nice staying in one place for a while, and the students seemed receptive to me. I only left because I was needed for a first contact situation.” You looked around. “Where’s Yenuno and Amai?”

“Date night,” He said. “They’re off… doing whatever people do on dates these days. I haven’t dated in decades, so I’m not certain what that entails anymore.”

“I could fix that, if you like,” You offered.

He smiled, but tilted his head. “How do you mean?”

“You could go on a date with me,” You said. “Since I’m going to be staying a while and working with you, it’ll be nice to get to know you better. And… maybe more than that.”

He looked like you’d hit him with a brick. He was still smiling confusedly, but his mouth was open and he couldn’t seem to speak.

“You okay there?” You asked.

“Ye--yes,” He stammered. “Forgive me. I… I appreciate the offer, but… I... I, uh…”

“It’s okay to say no, Maël,” You replied, laughing a little. “You don’t have to find an excuse. ‘No’ is a valid answer.”

He laughed a little self-consciously. “I’m sorry. I’ve been married to my work for so long that I just haven’t considered the possibility of dating. It’s… not something I’m interested in. I hope you understand.”

“Of course,” You replied. “That’s completely fine. And if you change your mind, that’s fine too. You know how to get in touch with me. No pressure. We’re both adults, after all.”

“Yes,” He said, adjusting his glasses. “I appreciate that. Thank you for the offer.”

“Think nothing of it,” You said. “I should get back to work. See you tomorrow.”

“Yes,” He repeated. You waved and walked away, unaware of his curious, piercing gaze on your retreating back.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Fae #Naga #Reader Insert

213 notes · View notes

chidoroki · 4 years

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Emma - 63194

So, it’s August 22nd, otherwise known as the best day of the month because we get to celebrate Emma's birthday! I feel like she doesn't get enough credit, especially as a shōnen protagonist, probably because she's just a normal kid compared to others with overwhelming powers/magic/quirks/etc, but I think that just makes her feats all the more interesting and amazing. So, here I am, ready to praise the hell out of everything she's done, what she's capable of, and who she is on her special day.

(spoilers for the entirety of The Promised Neverland, so if you haven't read/completed the manga yet, consider this your first warning, because I'm literally going from start to finish with this.)

This is gonna be one hell of a long post, so here we go.

- She's one of the smartest kids at Grace Field, alongside Norman and Ray, who all get full scores on the house's daily tests, which is by no means a simple task.

- This is thanks to her ability to learn things quickly, which she puts to the absolute best use throughout the entire story.

- She's undoubtedly the most athletic out of the full-score trio, as she can pull off a leap like this with no issue!

- I gotta give her voice actor credit here because her scream at the end of EP1 is simply fantastic.

- She noticed the windows in the house were screwed shut, which reinforced the idea that the kids were merely raised like cattle. (Ray was also aware of this, of course.)

- Suspects the use of tracking devices. (The anime had Norman voicing this realization, so whoever you want to give the credit for this is up to you.)

- Believe me when I say that her acting skills are top-notch.

- She's so good that she was able to control her emotions enough and even regulated her pulse to fool Isabella.

- This! Just all of this. Her crazy ideals, her never-give-up mentality, her ability to stay optimistic and strong despite everything they're up against.. just amazing.

- She always thinks of her family first. (she honestly rarely cries too, now that I think about it.)

- By using what she overheard from the demons at the gate and the “blood tests” Isabella once told her about, Emma was able to figure out where the tracking devices were located on her own. (Yeah, Ray knew of this too, but he kept that info to himself.)

- She then created a situation that allowed her to confirm this and that yes, Isabella is indeed always checking their trackers.

- It was Emma's idea to train the other children by playing tag. Not only did this help them during the escape, but afterwards as well.

- Takes advantage of every opportunity to learn. (also, the strength she has!)

- Amazing learning ability x2 (I'm aware the manga says 10 instead, but still! I bet she could memorize 100 too!)

- She believes in everyone and makes Norman realize that no one in their family is truly bad and that leaving anyone behind, even the “traitor,” could cost them their life.

- She called Ray out on his bluff about him actually being willing to help everyone escape.

- Then confronted Ray about the possibility of him experimenting on the tracking devices of their siblings, thus resulting in their early shipments, which is something Norman didn't even realize, if his surprised expression is anything to go by. (Emma scolds him and hides her anger well, though she only stays mad for like, a minute.)

- She, along with Gilda, notice Isabella disappear every night after 8pm, leading them to assume the house might contain a secret room. They eventually pinpoint where it's located. (Ray suspects such a room must have existed, but wasn't certain.)

- Introduces the boys to William Minerva's books and the morse code bookplates they held, which the trio all know how to decode and understand. (I know Phil pointed them out to her originally and manga Ray was also aware of them, surprise, but..) the hunch she had about the two special books being important guides for them turned out to be true later on after the escape.

- Accepts her mistakes and is quick to apologize when she's wrong.

- Thank you anime for giving us these wonderful lines.

- Has her leg broken and yet she doesn't shed one damn tear. (the horrific sound still haunts me.) Ah, might as well also mention this now, but her theme, 63194, is one of the best songs on the soundtrack.

- Once again caring about others more than herself, as she was ready to destroy her leg/foot even more if it allowed Norman a chance to escape.

- This absolutely amazing moment right here! Easily one of the best panels of her by far!

- Used what she heard from Krone and spent two months hiding her emotions and plans from Isabella. Learning ability & best actress x10.

- Isabella actually believes this. Seriously, someone give Emma an award. Best actress x50.

- Do y'all know how strong physically, mentally and emotionally this girl must be to cut off her own ear? I know she was in a rush to escape while Isabella was busy with the fire, like she literally had about ten seconds (anime) to remove her tracker, but damn! Not once does she ever cry over it either. May I remind you she's only 11!

- Stops Ray's suicide attempt by catching the match, thus burning her palms.

- It was her idea to let the other kids know of the escape, which helped in proceeding with the preparations behind Isabella's back.

- I love Ray x fire jokes as much as the next person, but we all know who the real pyro is. More props to her voice actor again for the scream that follows!

- Successfully carried out Norman's plan and escaped Grace Field with 14 other children.

(post-season one spoilers beyond this point)

- Keeps her cool in dangerous situations, which helps calm down the younger children. Also fairly knowledgeable of the books from Grace Field's library, such as “The Adventures of Ugo,” which came in handy in the demon forest.

- Remains positive and completely hopeful after learning the truth about the demon world they're living in from Sonju.

- It only took three days for her to become proficient enough in archery in order to hunt successfully. She apparently also knows how to use a harpoon (ch49) (but I don't think we ever see that, sadly). Learning ability x20.

- She also didn't panic when she was held at gunpoint. She stayed reasonably calm and forced her way free instead.

- Didn't even flinch when Yuugo's bullet grazed her cheek.

- Can she just get a round of applause, please?

- Emma is just so fearless. Gun to the head? Knife in her face? Doesn't matter. She'll threaten you right back.

- Kudos to her learning ability yet again x50.

- Her quick reflexes and accuracy are phenomenal.

- Of course, cue the talk-no-jutsu skills that every shonen protagonist is undoubtedly skilled with.

- Even Lewis knows at a first glance that our girl is good. Takes a lot to receive praise from this demon.

- Offers herself up as bait to lure the poachers away from the other children.

- Literally cares for anyone, as she helped countless kids she didn't even know during her first hunt at Goldy Pond by keeping them safe.

- Thanks again to her knowledge of the “The Adventures of Ugo” novel, she was able to locate the memory chip for the pen that contains information about Minerva's supporters, the paths to cross over to the human world, Goldy Pond, The Seven Walls and Project Lambda 7214.

- The damn skill she has in handling guns in the matter of two weeks is astonishing.. and she's still only 11.

- Informed the Goldy Pond kids on how to accurately aim for the demon’s center eye, which greatly helped them take out the poacher Nouma.

- She has the audacity to taunt Lewis right back and I love her for it. She also offered to stay behind in order stall Lewis on her own, despite knowing he's the most dangerous of the poachers.

- When the talk-no-jutsu towards the crazy demon fails, she summons a wide array of guns against him, because why the hell not, right?

- She once admitted that she was no good at reading an opponent's moves, but after watching many people in her life who are skilled in such a way (Norman, Ray, Isabella, Krone) and thanks to the knowledge she recently leanred about Goldy Pond, she manages to catch Lewis off guard and electrocute him. Her level of adaptability is wonderful. Learning ability x100.

- Can we all just take a moment to obsess over Emma's Goldy Pond outfit because it is fucking fantastic! She just looks so damn good! (I owe Demizu my life for this.)

- Actually manages to get Yuugo to call her by her real name after he was so adamant to no learn them or get attached to the kids.

- This bright smile adds five years onto my life.

- She’s the first to notice the disadvantage demons have with regeneration, which ultimately leads to their winning strategy against Lewis.

- She somehow survives this. (plot-armor, I know, but goddamn!)

- Now presenting, the exact moment I fell in love with Emma, because holy fucking shit! Not only does she survive getting stabbed like that, but she gets back up and continues fighting! Can I get a big ol' HELL YEAH!!

- She busts out the pistol with the trick shots she's kept hidden this entire time until the very right moment, effectively taking Lewis by surprise and granting Yuugo a clear shot to his middle eye as the demon stands defenseless against the shower of bullets.

- Emma's influence over everyone else is so powerful. We see it many times throughout the story, but because of her, they all accept that the impossible is possible, everyone is worth saving, and to never give up. This is especially amazing to witness in scenarios with Ray, since Krone once said that his weakness was that he's "a little quick to give up. He makes a decision fast but abandons other just as quickly."

- Because of everyone's assistance, they were able to destroy Gold Pond and rescue over 60+ kids, which probably wouldn't have happened if it weren't for Emma presence at the hunting ground in the first place.

- Not to discredit Ray, because I'm sure he did a fine job of cauterizing Emma's wounds, but she did survive a day and a half with a low blood count. (She was unconscious, sure, but her body didn't give up either.)

- Finally wakes up from her coma a month later and the first thing she's concerned with is the safety of everyone else.

- I swear, this girl has a heart of gold, but we knew that already.

- Doesn't let her missing ear hinder her at all, just adjusts how it would function normally in her daily life.

- Memorized the many maps found in the shelter's reference room alongside her siblings. Learning ability x125.

- She's capable of taking out three wild demons in the matter of seconds. Accuracy and speed on point still on point.

(Ah post-timeskip, just a little over halfway done now.) - Will not hesitate to jump in and save someone, regardless of the danger to herself.

- No 13 year-old should have this amount of pressure on their shoulders, but I'll be damned, she handles this and so much more well.

- She pushes aside her own anxieties over losing the shelter, those two boys and possibly Yuugo and Lucas and decides to lift the spirits of everyone else instead.

- Y'all see this demon? Do you think she cares? Not one bit! All that matters is her family's safety and she'll do anything to preserve that. We stan one reckless girl.

- Doesn't cry over the deaths of Yuugo and Lucas (at least, I don't think she does? She appears more frustrated here than upset.)

- She can pick up on how others are feeling, even if they're trying to hide it. (also does so several times to Norman (ch30, 128,153) and even to Yuugo (ch64))

- Is the first to volunteer to sneak into the mass production farm guarded by demons in order to retrieve the medicine Chris needs.

- Honey, how are you not screaming for you life right now?

- Official translation has Hayato saying “The Boss is saying he wants to meet you,” but I feel like this unofficial one here conveys the exchange between Emma and Oliver better. Their large family has children who are older and more experienced as a leader than Emma, but they all choose to follow her.

- Just a casual reminder of how strong our girl is. (She even beats out Ray and Don in terms of strength too.)

- I probably only find this impressive because I love my sleep, but she wakes up at 6 in the morning. Always. Without fail. For thirteen years. Then panics the one time she actually oversleeps.

- She knows every life is precious, no matter who or what they are. Also doesn’t want to follow Norman's civil war plan, which is good, because damn that's a bit extreme. Doing so would only create more fear and hatred.

- Say it louder.

- LOUDER!

- Agrees to go and find out more about The Seven Walls in hopes to stop Norman's plan, despite the many risks. Can she really arrive at TSW? What's actually there? Could she even make a new promise? Will she be able to return afterwards? There's a bunch of unknowns, but that won't stop her. (“Simple?” “It is simple.” That line kills me every time.)

- TSW proved to be very mentally exhausting but she and Ray did survive all the craziness they faced while trapped there.

- Due to her unique way of thinking, she managed to remain sane and was able to figure out how TSW worked, which is something even Ray couldn't quite comprehend.

- Because of that, she was then able to finally meet the bastard demon god.

- Thus allowing her to..successfully.. make a new promise. (Ahhh)

- Best actress x500 (damn damn damn!)

- Honestly, have they practiced this before or is her athleticism just that superior? Either way, she never fails to surprise me.

- Isn't afraid to speak the truth and put one of her best friends in their place.

- But manages to (somehow) forgive him, after his plan successfully killed the queen, the demon royals and poisoned the capital city, which forced the nearby demons to degenerate.

- Her optimism knows no bounds.

- She & everyone else were able to infiltrate Grace Field which is not only guarded by demons but the Ratri clan as well.

- Just how? I know your athletic but wow!

- The woman who shipped out so many of Emma's siblings and broke her leg now holds a gun to her face and yet our girl doesn't look panicked in the slightest. Girl, how are you so brave?! Holy shit. There's no fear in those eyes, only anger.

- AND she ends up forgiving her! After learning Isabella betrayed Peter and realizing that all the mothers and sisters are also fighting for their freedom, Emma gladly accepts Isabella's assistance. (Best mother daughter moment I've ever seen.)

- The entire talk-no-jutsu she pulls on Peter in ch172. She's angry, even downright hates the Ratri, but she refuses to get revenge for all the trouble they've caused to her family and friends by killing Peter. She admits the clan's actions can never be forgiven, but she still shows sympathy because she knows they were also suffering due to the world and roles they were born into.

- We find out that Emma worded the promise perfectly which allows every human raised as food to cross over into the human world. Truly thinking of everyone as per usual.

- She kept her promise to Phil and came back for him and the rest of the children she had originally left behind at Grace Field.

- Again, showing no hesitation to save someone she barely knows, even when unarmed.

- Pretty sure I was in literal tears at this point of the chapter, so kudos to her for making me bawl my eyes out. Aahh, she's just so forgiving and her heart is so big.

- Best actress x9999 (*screaming internally*)

- SHE LITERALLY SACRIFICES HER OWN HAPPINESS SO EVERYONE IMPORTANT TO HER CAN LIVE IN PEACE AND BE HAPPY!!

- She loves her family so deeply that even without her memories, her heart still remembers them. (it makes me cry too, hun, it's okay.)

- She has a heart literally made of solid gold. Of course she can't refuse the bastard's reward, but still accepts it with a smile on her face knowing that all humans and demons, of the present and future, can now live freely without any fear. She completely ended the tragedy that persisted the last 1,000+ years and changed the world like she set out to do back in ch4. Sweetheart please, you're anything but selfish.

- She has the most precious family on the planet. Her influence was so strong that they searched endlessly for two years just to see her again, by never giving up or doubting her words back in ch178. They're beyond happy when they do finally find her and are a bunch of sweethearts who accept her no matter what.

- Ahh, I just really love Emma okay? She's honestly one of the few protagonists I actually enjoy. Happy Birthday again to this all-around amazing girl and I can't wait to see her in action in future anime seasons!!

(congrats, you've made it to the end. i apologize if i missed any other moment worth mentioning, but yeah, i think this is enough for now.)

#the promised neverland #tpn emma #tpn manga #tpn anime #emma #chidoroki used chatter

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lassieposting · 3 years

Note

Vile/Mevolent for the last ship ask? 😘

Who starts most fights?

At the start of their relationship, it's Vile like a solid 70% of the time - he's got a hair-trigger temper and it's practically impossible to tell what will set him off. That's one of the things Mevolent initially finds exciting - Vile is unpredictable, and the sporadic explosions of temper keep things interesting.

After a few hundred years, though, he's more than used to Vile's tells, and at that point it's more likely to be Mevolent noticing the prickly atmosphere and the general spikiness and the agitated shadows and being like, "Good gods, what, I can feel you sulking from here."

Who surrenders at the end of most fights?

If it's a physical fight, it varies. One of the first things Mevolent liked about Vile, one of the first things they bonded over, is that he's strong enough to take Mev in single combat. It's incredibly refreshing to have a sparring partner who's a) a challenge and b) not afraid to try and fucking end you. A lot of their fights get worked out physically, so it's really a toss of the dice as to who comes out on top - who's having a bad day, who's got a healing injury, who's more upset or distracted.

Who is more likely to cry during a fight?

Neither of them are really upset/frustrated criers. They don't? Really cry at all, tbh, unless they're injured and like, can't help it.

Who is more likely to storm out during a fight?

Mevolent, when he's not in the mood to physically fight it out. Usually accompanied by an air-assisted door slam and an "I can't stand you sometimes," or an "I can't deal with you when you're like this."

Who is louder in fights?

Mevolent. Vile's stutter comes back under stress, so if anything he shuts down during arguments and mostly expresses anger through his magic - sharp shadows, power surges, throwing furniture, that kind of thing.

Who is more likely to throw things in fights?

Vile. Both of them will throw things in a fight, but Vile is also more likely to just. Demolish rooms to get the anger out.

Who is more likely to bring up past mistakes?

Vile, to devastating effect, but it's rare. Ultimately, this is his trump card when Mevolent gets frustrated over how unreasonable he's being or how the latest explosion came out of nowhere. You signed my death warrant, you let him torture me, you're the reason I'm like this. It's a sore subject for both of them, and even Vile - who's notoriously temperamental - only really uses this as a last resort, when he feels cornered.

Who is more likely to give the silent treatment?

God, lbh, if both of them were into giving the silent treatment they'd fight once and never speak again. Vile is practically a selective mute. Mevolent can Silent Treatment so effectively he can tune out Skulduggery infodumping for eight hours straight. But they're not really the couple who drags fights out - they build up, they explode, and very quickly they go back to normal.

Who is more likely to blame the other?

Both of them, outwardly. They're both traumatized wrecks with bad childhoods who never really mastered healthy communication, and when they're confronted with conflict, they lash out at whoever they're fighting with. They'll both be furious at the other one for starting shit until they've calmed down.

Who is more likely to blame themselves?

Both of them, inwardly. Mevolent has some weird not-quite-guilt going on around being the one who ordered Skulduggery's death - he doesn't regret it, because it was the smart move for his ultimate goal and he has no attachment to Skulduggery Pleasant. He's even happy he did it, because if he hadn't, Vile wouldn't exist. But he does care for Vile, and he doesn't enjoy seeing him hurt, and this does hurt him. He still has nightmares about the torture, still vividly remembers being burned alive, and there's nothing Mevolent can do to change it, and that bugs him.

On Vile's side, he doesn't really understand why he is the way he is and he 100% blames himself for being like that. He doesn't understand why his temper is so explosive and unpredictable, he doesn't understand why sometimes he just has to fight someone, anyone, no matter who it is, because he feels like he'll burn up from the inside if he doesn't. He knows he used to be better at hiding how angry he is all the time, he knows he used to be able to compartmentalise better, he knows that a lot of the time he's not really angry at Mevolent specifically, he's just lashing out at whoever's closest. He's a breathing, walking ball of trauma - a psychiatrist would have a field day with him - but he doesn't know what's going on, only that there's something wrong with him that he doesn't know how to fix.

Who gets jealous more easily?

At the beginning, it's Mevolent for sure - he's a man who always wants the shiny new toy, and someone as powerful and vicious as Vile is a toy he doesn't want anyone else to get to play with. He knows Vile isn't interested in the religious aspect of his cause, he knows he's a heathen - so he puts a lot of effort at first into like, almost courting him to make sure he's invested enough not to defect to someone else's army - the Sanctuary could win the war with him, the Necromancers could re-enter the fray and become a real threat with him at the helm. It's in Mev's best interests to make sure Vile doesn't want to leave, and he hates the idea of someone taking his new toy away.

After they catch Feelings, though, it's Vile. He's clawed back a tiny little bit of happiness and nobody is gonna touch it this time. He's incredibly territorial, and he's the type to kill first and ask questions later.

Who is angered more easily?

Vile. Mevolent is, for an insane genocidal warlord who worships eldritch evil gods, actually pretty chilled out and reasonable. It's one of the reasons he's so good with Vile in the first place - Vile picks up on the negative emotions of people around him, like all Necromancers, and because he's so powerful, he's very sensitive to little shifts in the level of emotions that appeal to his magic - fear, anger, etc - and they fuck with his mood. Mevolent isn't afraid of him, and he doesn't get angry easily, so Vile himself is actually a lot calmer around him.

Who is more likely to break off the relationship?

They both think it's the other. As far as Mevolent is concerned, he needs Vile more than Vile needs him. Vile is his not-so-secret weapon, the living, breathing nuclear bomb who's winning him the war. He was losing before Vile came to his side, and he's smart enough to know that if Vile ever got it in his head to walk away and go back to being Skulduggery Pleasant, he'd probably start losing again.

From Vile's side, he hates himself. He doesn't see himself as loveable or worth fighting for. He goes after the competition mercilessly because he's terrified of someone better coming along - someone less scarred and less difficult or more powerful - and Mev losing interest to go after the New Thing. He doesn't really understand why Mev is fond of him in the first place, only that he wants to keep it that way.

Who is more likely to threaten to leave?

It's less Vile threatening to leave and more Mevolent calling his bluff. Like, oh, well, if you hate being around me so much, I could recall Vengeous and send you to fight the insurgents in Tanzania for a few years, how about that? Or you could go home? Go ahead, go back to whatever's left of your friends.

Vile hasn't left yet. And Mev never really wants him to.

Who is more likely to actually leave?

Vile. The palace is Mevolent's, the city is Mevolent's, Vile even moved into Mevolent's quarters rather than the other way around. Mev isn't going to be the one moving out if they have a row. He lived here first, damn it.

Who is more likely to forget the other first?

Probably Vile by virtue of being capable of a whole new level of repression. It's how he deals with a lot of his trauma. He doesn't, for example, remember much about Skulduggery's family. He remembers they existed, he remembers that at some point he was that person who cared about them, maybe as much as he cares about Mevolent. But if you asked him to describe them, or what Skulduggery loved about them, or the last thing they said to him, he wouldn't be able to remember. Likewise, he's blotted out a lot of the details of the three days he spent with Serpine because they're just? Too much. He can't handle that and also be with Mevolent. It's a mess. So if a breakup was traumatic enough, he'd probably protect himself the same way.

#bubblemoon66 #fire message #skulduggery pleasant #sp headcanons #violent #god this was actually really challenging bc they? dont actually fight that often imo #they're both messy as fuck and when they do fight its Nasty but theyre weirdly healthy for two homicidal maniacs #long post

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generallybarzy · 5 years

Text

did you miss me? ❤ mat barzal

Part 1- ~2,750 words

So that video of Barzy singing this song (which I will never stop reblogging) brought up some old nostalgic memories because I kinda forgot this song existed and I used to listen to it so much when I was younger. So I listened to it and started feeling emotions. I’m sorry if this is too crazy I just really went off. @matbaezal because I promised you this. I hope its okay, it’s my first real hockey boy fic.

Summary: You get the opportunity of a lifetime, but it means saying goodbye to your boyfriend for half a year. Mat starts feeling a little bit of self-doubt in the relationship. This part is literally just describing your’s and Mat’s separate sides of the experience and then a fluffy scene. There WILL be a second, emotional part eventually.

As you pushed yourself down into the cramped airplane seat and tried to drown out the noise of rowdy children a few seats behind you, you pulled out your phone and pressed on the ‘Mat❤’ contact one last time in a final attempt to send one text to your boyfriend. But no matter how many texts you sent, that damn little ‘Not Delivered’ message just had to keep popping up.

It really felt like the world was out to get you these past few days.

You hadn’t been able to get a hold of your boyfriend for the last three days- even when the messages did deliver- to tell him about your flight back, and now the flight itself was late and it was gonna take a few extra hours until you were back home. In all honesty, you didn’t even know if he would still be waiting when you got back. The internet connection had never seemed crappier than when you just wanted to send just one more text to him before your flight. Airports had never seemed more crowded than the moment you began to become overwhelmed with the need to just be home. Six months had never felt like a longer time than when you just needed to crawl into your boyfriend’s arms.

The last six months had really been something, huh? You could barely believe they’d even happened at all.

As someone heading into the social work field after college, you had always wanted to get out in the world and help people less fortunate than yourself, which is why you jumped at the opportunity to fly with other students from your university to underdeveloped countries to do nonprofit work and volunteering to get a taste of what this career path would feel like. And damn, how cool would it be to put something that good on a resume? It was the opportunity of a lifetime for you, so it should’ve been an easy decision to jump on that plane. But of course, there was still one thing that made you hesitate- Mathew Barzal.

Six months ago, at the start of all this craziness, you had left behind your amazing boyfriend. Of course, Mathew was 100% down with your decision, happy you were getting the chance to do what you love and explore beyond the world you were used to, but that didn’t make it any easier to go without him. The two of you had been dating for a solid 4 months at that point and had been hanging out as much as your hectic schedules allowed, always there to pick up each other’s pieces after a hard day. Knowing that you wouldn’t have someone to curl into and hold at the end of the day was the biggest obstacle standing between you and the potential start of your dream career. God, you would miss him so much. But you wanted to go so bad, to look for your passion, your career, yourself.

You remember holding onto Mat after telling him about your conflicted feelings, tears in your eyes as you tried to savor the feeling of his arms around you. “I want this so much. It could be the start of my career. I want to find myself, you know? But you deserve someone who can be there for you.” Mat shook his head a bit. He always made it well known that he appreciated every moment he got with you, even if it wasn’t much on certain days.

“You are there for me.” He insisted.

“But now I’m going to miss six months, Mat! Half a year! By the time I’m back, you might not even like me anymore.” With teary eyes, you looked up at him. “It’ll be easier if we just break it off right now so you can find someone else. Someone who can be there-”

“Hey, hey.” Mat tried to hush you with a kiss, but you pulled back.

“Six months, Mat, we haven’t even been together that long yet.” You spoke softer this time. “That’s a long time to be without someone.”

“Shut up, please, babe. Shut up.” He pulled back to look at you, holding your gaze and letting you know he was serious now. “Look, it might be a long time, but I’m not gonna let you hold yourself back for me, alright? You want this, right?” You nodded. “Yeah. This is an amazing chance for you to start your dream. Your dream! You’re gonna change the world, babe. And I can promise you I won’t just stop liking you because you want to chase that dream.” His thumb stroked across your cheek and a smile finally cracked across your face as you were reminded again of his dedication to your relationship.

“It’s gonna be so hard, though. I might not be able to answer calls or FaceTime with you very often. And the time zones…”

“I can handle it. I’ve got plenty of pictures of you on my phone for when I get lonely.” You laughed at that, reaching up to lace your fingers through his hair. “And we’ll just have to savor our time together for the next few weeks. Make every second count.” He lay a few kisses across your face and smiled into the crook of your neck. “Go find your purpose, babe. Do a little soul-searching. I’ll still be here waiting when you get back. I promise.”

———-

Six months without Mat may have been hard on you, but you were also getting the chance to do things you loved and find your purpose. On the other hand, Mat, while he happily supported and encouraged your choice and never let you think he doubted it, wondered if maybe you would come back and realize that there was a lot more to life than staying with him. You were finishing a degree- and a freaking cool one at that- traveling the world, helping people and doing good in the world, and he was just a hockey player. A great one, sure, but still just a hockey player.

You were smarter, more compassionate, an overall cooler person than him, and soon to be better traveled and more knowledgeable about life in the underdeveloped parts of the world that most city people rarely spared a thought for. It was just a matter of time before you realized just how much better you were than him. You could find someone out there, someone else who’s volunteering, and you’d fall in love with how selfless and worldly they were. You’d fall in love and get married and go on saving the world together, while Mat was still just scoring goals on TV, living alone-

Shit, I have to stop thinking like that. You liked him. He liked you. Done.

He wasn’t sure when all this self-doubt started- it was so unlike him. Maybe it was after he would get back from late-night games to find you waiting on his couch, stressed over your own assignments but still there nonetheless to help him relax, putting everything aside for him. Of course, he did the same for you as much as he could, but with practice and games and roadies and media days and more practice and more games, he felt like he couldn’t be there for you as much as he wanted.

Surely, while you were out there doing some soul-searching in a foreign country, you’d realize that you could do better than him.

After you left, Mat realized just how lonely he was without you. The two of you hadn’t even lived together before you moved out, but he understood now that you had been a much bigger part of his life than he ever realized. Sure, he had his teammates and his friends, and they hung out often, but he couldn’t really go over to their place and snuggle them at the end of the day. He couldn’t have them come over just so that he would have someone to hold- to fall asleep and wake up next to. There was a hole in his life.

Mat remembers the moment he realized why all these feelings- the doubt, the loneliness, the fear of losing you- were so intense. A month or so into your trip, he was FaceTiming you and the feeling of being separated was still new. It was almost time for you to go to bed, but Mat had just gotten back from practice and was upset that he couldn’t spend the rest of his day on a call with you. He was sitting at the table in his apartment, propping his head up with his fist and smiling at you through the phone. You were thousands of miles away, sitting up on your bed, looking exhausted with your makeup-less face and hair thrown up in a bun, a radiant smile across your face and wearing a hoodie of his, the one you took with. “A part of you to cuddle out there”, you’d said. She’s so beautiful. “Are you having fun?”

“So much, Mat!” Your smile was contagious.

“Tell me about it.” Even if he was upset you were so far, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Is it everything you wanted?”

“And more! I got to hang out with a bunch of the underprivileged kids today, they’re so sweet! We’re helping them make better schools here so that all the children can get a chance at an education. We’re flying over books and materials for them, too! They’re all so excited to have us here…” He listened intently, honestly interested and amazed by everything you were doing. “I really think I found what I wanna do for the rest of my life, Mat. I’d prefer to not be so far from you, though…” You really were finding yourself, making a difference, changing the future, and he was so in love with that.

In love with you.

“Babe, go get some sleep alright?” Mat laughed slightly after a while as you lost your train of thought and started dozing off a bit. “You got a big day of changing the world tomorrow. Call me when you get lonely.” You nodded sleepily at him. “G’night, (Y/N).” I love you, he wanted to add before he ended the call. But you were already half asleep, thousands of miles across the ocean from him. It wasn’t the right time.

In love. Wow.

Mat had to take a moment that night to think. He knew that he liked you, seriously liked you, from the moment you had your first date. But now, knowing he loved you? He couldn’t stop smiling that night, dreaming of the ways he would tell you. He couldn’t calm down at practice the next few days either, all smiles and giggly to his teammates, who were honestly getting a bit tired of hearing Mat gush over you. Like, it was sweet and all but Mat, could you please for the love of God focus on practice?

Through all the wins and losses, the stressful games and lonely nights, at the end of the day, nothing could wipe that smile off his face. Because he was in love with you.

And he couldn’t wait for you to get back home.

———-

Part of you felt like it had been years since you’d last seen Mat in person, the other part felt like it was just yesterday that you left him at this very airport. Now, back in the United States, standing in the airport and hopefully minutes away from being back in Mat’s arms, you were sure that all your time away from him was worth it, thinking back on all the people you’d helped and the lives you’d changed. You’d made it. Made it through six months without him, and you enjoyed every moment of the work you’d done there, even if it was spent without him.

At this point, you hadn’t heard from him in three days, and before that there were only a few back and forth messages that had taken hours to respond to. You’d texted him before and during the flight, reminding him that today was the day you’re coming back. He didn’t answer. Okay, you thought, maybe the times just didn’t match up and he was just busy. Maybe he was at a game or practice. For three days, though? What time is it, anyway? You sent him another text, thankful the messages were finally delivering. ‘Hey, I’m back :) You there?’ It’s fine, it’s fine, he probably just doesn’t have time to respond yet. Maybe… maybe he broke his phone? But another part of your mind wandered into darker areas. Maybe he did get tired of you. Maybe he needed someone and you didn’t respond fast enough, so he went out to find someone new. Maybe he wasn’t going to show up after all. You shut off your phone in defeat.

Maybe you were on your own now…

“Hey, (Y/N).”

One statement alone had never made you feel as much as at that moment. All the bustling noise of the airport went silent in your ears as you turned toward the voice in what felt like slow motion. There, a few feet away from you, your boyfriend of 10 months now stood in front of a bench, looking sleepy and disheveled and wearing your favorite hoodie, one that you had often told him he looked really boyfriend-like in. He had a bright smile and a soft flush on his face. “Mat.” All your worries of him not showing up were suddenly forgotten as you dropped all your bags and met him halfway, falling into his waiting arms as he lifted you off the ground in a hug. “Mathew. Mat, Mat, Mat…” You let out all the emotions of the last six months, tucking your head into his neck and feeling dizzy with happiness at the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne. His arms held your waist close against him, his nose finding its usual place by your temple, breathing in your shampoo.

“Did you miss me out there?” He set you back on your own two feet and you pulled out of the hug only slightly to look up at him, studying his face as you held it between your hands. He’d changed a bit since you last saw him in person- still the same Mat, your Mat- but somehow he seemed warmer, softer, happier. Not that he was unhappy before, but now he was just… lighter. He’d cut his hair a little bit and it suited him, and his face was completely clean-shaven. But that beautiful, vast grin that always left you smiling was the same as always. You smiled and pressed your lips to his, threading your fingers through his hair. Finally. Finally. Seeing Mat on a tiny phone screen could never compare to being here in person, holding him, kissing him, feeling his arms around your waist. Six months of lost time exploded between you, and it felt like hours before you pulled away breathless, with grins on both of your faces.

“So much, Mat. I missed you so, so much.” You pulled yourself back into him, one hand on his shoulder and the other tracing along his jaw, and choked back a happy sob. “You scared me so much. You didn’t answer my texts. I thought you weren’t going to show up. I thought you’d actually moved on.” The grin fell from his face immediately.

“Shit, really? I was just trying to surprise you. I thought it’d be romantic?” You laughed into his chest. Mat, Mat, Mat. He was the same as always.

“I missed you. So much.” You felt him smile as he pressed his lips against your neck, just taking a moment to hold you.

“You’ve gotta tell me everything about this trip. Was it everything you wanted?“

"Later, Mat. I just wanna get out of this airport and back to someplace more private.” It was physically starting to hurt that you couldn’t just jump on him and cuddle him right here at the airport.

“Your place first?"

"No. Your place. I just want to shower and sleep right now. And you’re crazy if you think I want to go home without you after all this” You shared a smile with him again, still overjoyed to be back home with him, not wanting this intimate moment to end. Then again, moments like this can’t be that intimate when you’re literally standing in the middle of a crowded airport. Mat grabbed some of your luggage and tucked you snug into his side, right where you belonged.

“Well, I’m not gonna complain about that.”

❤

——

//But tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet? Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day, And head back to the Milky Way? And tell me, did Venus blow your mind? Was it everything you wanted to find? And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?//

——-

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #fic #imagine #WOW #I WRITE THIS!!#:D #I'm really happy with this actually #<3 #nhl #nhl writing #mine #did you miss me?#op

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