#it is actually explained in various places but if it had a tag i dont remember it

[coolnonsenseworld]

Realized I never published this piece for Cursed Love story. Lance is performing a protection spell 🕊️

Last day for 15-20% off prints

Linktr.ee/mezzy

[peterparkersnose]

Three Years

pairing: Javi Pena x reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: anxiety, reader has a child, angst if you squint, re connection of the two characters, reader has a liking of photography, out of character javi but who cares (i crave this man domestically)

a/n  babies! the pedro wave recently has me worried. i dont want them to make him into eddie munson/joe quinn bc i cannot loose pedro (ive been a fan since march ‘22) and i will be heartbroken if it becomes embarrassing to stan this wonderful man. tell me he doesnt look good in that gif god damn. any narcos inaccuracies I apologize I havent watched it since the summer

summary Javi reconnects with his former fling (the ambassador’s daughter) and finds out a secret

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read time: 6 mins 15 seconds

His palms were sweating. Maybe it was the Texas heat, or maybe for once in his life Javier Peña was actually nervous.

He sat parked on the busy street of San Antonio trying to muster up the courage to knock on your door.

2213 Ace Street, San Antonio, Texas. Y/N.

The crumpled up post it note Steve had hastily written your address down on. It was his final goodbye gift to Javi, handed over to him secretly through a handshake.

Javi figured he pulled it from a classified document. You were the ambassador to Colombia’s daughter anyways, it’s not like your address would just be laying around in the Colombian embassy.

He felt a bit out of place in the expensive neighborhood. Everyone around seemed to glare at him in his tight jeans. Maybe it was all in his head, he wasn’t sure. Anxiety seemed to overshadow his unbeatable confidence that day. He stared at the house numbers trying to figure out which one was yours.

2205, 2208… 2211

2213

Your townhome was nice. Natural brick house, a bit large for just yourself.

After all these years, you have had to move on. Three years with no contact. There was no way you were still single. And the size of this house was just living proof that you had moved on.

Three years. Javi stood with his hands on his hips, glaring down the avenue at the setting sun. When the secret relationship was exposed, it had all been swept under the rug. The facade of close friends the two of you had been putting on was figured out by your father. One of Javi’s biggest regrets was letting you leave and go back to the states. He didn’t want to admit it then, but he knew.

He was in love.

Three years. Javi couldn’t believe it.

He swallowed sharply. Three years, he had to at least see you. Be in your presence one more time, even if it was just to say a proper goodbye. The crumpled up post it returned to his pocket as he made his way up your steps.

The doorbell was an antique painted white; typical for these upscale neighborhoods. He rung it, and prayed you weren’t home.

His stomach dropped when he heard your sweet voice.

“Coming!”

The door whistfully opened. Your hair was tied back and you had an apron on over your outfit. Flour was smeared over the apron along with other various baking ingredients Javi couldn’t name.

Your expression fell from ‘I think my package I ordered is here’ to a face Javi couldn’t even explain. Confusion mixed with such an unannounced wave of hurt.

Silence and stares became the moment as your soft radio in the background ended its song and switched to a commercial.

“Hi,” Is all that he could manage to say. He let out a breathe of air he had felt like he had been holding for years.

“H-hi.” you stuttered, giving him one more glance to make sure this was real.

“What are you doing he-” you began to say, but you were interrupted.

“Mommy!” said your son, trotting in from the kitchen to find the two of you standing there. Your back stiffened as you took in a sharp breath. “The cakes, there big! Too big.” the child exclaimed, waving his hands in the air to tell the story.

“Shit, Grant!” you scolded your son, scooping the boy up in your arms and whisking him back to the kitchen.

“One second, Javier!” you called from the kitchen. His stomach seemed to turn at the use of his name. His full name.

He stood dumbfounded at your door. So you had moved on.

Javi slowly entered your house. Pictures hung on your wall; he recognized one from a date he took you on. He hated hiking, but the beautiful sights were just too good to miss in Colombia. He could see the corner of the picnic blanket in the photo, remembering the nice time together. Pictures of the boy were hung, of course. Baby photos and photos looking like they were taken yesterday of Grant were in various frames around the house.

His heart stopped when he saw the one picture sitting on your fireplace. An easy one to miss, but he spotted it.

You, himself, Steve, and Connie all smiling at the bar you used to frequent. Wouldn’t your spouse be mad about those pictures being on display?

“I see you let yourself in,” you said, entering the room once again. “I can go, I’m sorry but… you still have these?” he asked. Your eyes widened as he mentioned leaving.

“Your welcome to stay, please, have a seat if you’d like.” you offered, taking off your apron and hanging it on a hook. Javi could sense your shock. “Wouldn’t your husband be upset? I mean with our history…”

“No husband.” you said with a tight lipped smile. “Just me and Grant.”

“Your son?” Javier asked, looking down the hallway leading to your kitchen. There he saw the boy peeking out behind the wall. Once they made eye contact, he gasped and retreated the kitchen.

“How did you find me?” you asked, ignoring the question. “I… had help?” he said, trying not to throw Steve under the bus. He took the post it note out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Steve’s handwriting,” you chuckled to yourself. His distinct chicken scratch was hard to not recognize.

“I saw that you finally got that bastard,” you scoffed. “I was so relieved when I saw Escobar was killed on the news. It was strange, though. Seeing you and Steve through a screen.”

“Yeah,” Javi awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Would you like to meet him?” you asked, biting the bullet. “Escobar?” Javi asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. “No,” you chuckled, turning around to see your snooping son again.

“C’mere,” you said sweetly, giving into the child’s interest in this stranger.

Grant came running and hit your form so hard you almost fell forwards on your knees. “Careful baby,” you chuckled, caressing his dark brown hair as he hid behind your legs.

“This is Javier,” you introduced your son to the mysterious man.

“From stories?” Grant asked, peeking out behind your legs. “Yes, baby. Like from the stories.”

Javier’s heart seemed to drop. This kid has heard stories about him before? No father around, no husband? Tell me why this kid was starting to look more and more like his mother.

He didn’t want to admit the very possible truth to himself.

“He got the bad guy?” Grant asked, now holding on to your hand. He was still very obviously weary about Javier. “Mhm,” you said, crouching down next to Grant. “Remember the TV a few weeks ago? When they caught the bad guy?” you asked your son. He looked at Javi intensively.

Your eyes met Javi’s and you felt the guilt consume you. You had to do it; even if the pit in your stomach was about to erupt out in vomit. You had to.

“He’s yours.”

“No,” Javi immediately responded. He didn’t mean to give such a negative response, he was just stuck in a haze in this new reality.

He was a father.

“Your kidding?” he asked, a hand coming to his forehead and sliding down his face. “Your the only guy I slept with in Colombia.”

“What’s his name? Full name,” he asked. “Grant Javier Peña.”

Grant looked up to his mother when she said his name. “He turned two in April,”

A silent tear rolled down Javier’s face as a hand moved to his mouth. It was early January. He had about a two and a half year old son. The little boy that had now moved to playing with action figures on the floor in front of him was his; his own flesh and blood. Half of him, half of you.

“And your father?” he anxiously asked, rubbing his hands together. “He wasn’t pleased. Doesn’t visit much anymore anyways,” you scoffed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said, trying to keep his tone steady. “I wasn’t allowed. I promise, I begged my father through my whole pregnancy. I tried letters, ways to get to Steve or Connie. Nothing. I had given up hope after his first birthday.”

“And you did this all alone?” he asked you, standing up to embrace you. His hands took yours as you shook your head yes. You bit your lip, trying your best not to cry. You wrapped your arms around his chest and felt his heartbeat. It was beating fast.

“I’m so sorry, mi amor.” he whispered in your ear. “What can I do?”

“Whatever you need to,” you said, breaking the hug. “I know it isn’t easy. It’s a hard decision. I’ve been doing it alone now for almost three years. If you don’t want to be involved, Javi, I completely understand.”

“No, no.” he said. “I… if you’ll have me, I’ll stay.”

“Javi-”

“No questions. My decision, I’m here for you two. Emotionally, financially, whatever you need from me.” “That’s asking too much, just maybe give it some time to think about-”

“I’ve been thinking about you every day for three years, Y/N. I am absolutely sure about my decision.”

“Mama,” Grant asked, turning around to look at the two of you standing above him. “Play?”

Grant approached Javi cautiously, holding a G.I. Joe figurine in his hand. He offered the toy to his father. “Play?” he asked once again. Javier looked to you; you shook your head in approval.

The sight of your son and his father playing together was enough to make you happy for a lifetime.

Javier was cautious. His experience with children was basically non existent. “Who is he?” he asked in his softest voice he could think of. “Joe! This Jack, Jasmine, Kevin, Gumball and…”

Javi listened as his son named off all of his action figures along with some stuffed animals strewn across the room.

You slowly crept to your bedroom where you kept your camera hidden away. Adjusting the settings, you hid behind the couch to get a perfect angle of this moment you never wanted to forget.

Snap!

Both of the boys turned around to see you standing behind the couch. “No picture!” Grant complained, stomping his tiny fist on the ground. A smile spread to Javi’s lips as he saw his son squirm.

“I’m sorry baby. Keep playing.” you said, placing the camera on a desk in the living room.

“Mommy take pictures a lot.” Grant sighed, picking up another action figure and kept on playing.

This was definitely going on your wall.

all posts ​ @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh holy holy heck this chapter is SO DAMN EXCITING hehehe I had sosososo much writing and doing all the research!! please let me know if there is anything factual/cultural that I need to fix! I tried the best I could although I most def am not an expert in Egyptian culture so I appreciate it a lot :) hehe i hope ya have fun reading this chapter teehee oh! also I love hearing what you thought of it too! :D 

Four 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, royal!minho, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, several mentions of food and alcohol as well as getting tipsy/drunk that good, good making out, suggestive themes

CWs: mentions of guns, mentions of knives, themes of jealousy (expressed by the reader) 

Word count: 7.5k

Parts 

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE 

“Well, we’re in Cairo alright.” 

Two tugged the amazed young stow-away-student, Seungmin, by the hand of his backpack to keep him from running into one of the palm tree planters decorating the terminal. The young man had nearly slept the whole flight due to the length as well as the exasperation that he had just been through. While his eyes were still darkened from his nap, his glossy pupils still wondered all around him. 

“I take it back. I’m so glad that I almost died so I could end up here with you guys.” 

Jeongin slapped him from the backside of his head. “Never be thankful for almost dying. Life is a lot more fucking fragile than you think. This isn’t just some joyride--” 

“--Ease up F.” You interrupted your partner as you shouldered your bag. The kid had already been through enough already: he didn’t need accosting on top of it all. 

The dashing prince sighed out and stretched his arms. “Ahhhh Cairo. It’s been a while; too long actually.” 

The airport was humid: the kind of sticky warmth that dripped down your neck in a matter of seconds to then get caught above your lip. It wasn’t much help to the anxiety that already had seeped into your veins. The closer you got to a gun the more comfortable you would be. You and the other two guards created a formation around the prince with two in the front and the other in the flank. While each of you were dressed in regular street clothes, your responsibility of his detail still hung over your head with a severe air. 

Chan threw his arm over the young student with an obscene grin. His hair had become a little disheveled from the plane seat and his hoodie, but he didn’t appear to mind. Seeing him so normal was somewhat of an odd change to your previous unbreakable impression of him. 

“Seungmin my friend, you’ve never lived until you’ve been to Cairo. I’ve never seen another place so enriched in history in my whole life...it puts my kingdom to shame. It’s almost like...you can just feel the time here: hundreds of thousands of years...beauty, art, food, industry...I’ve got a thing or two to learn.” 

Seungmin nodded at the prince’s grandiose gestures in the terminal with an enamored smile. “I can’t wait to see it!” 

Your partner put a firm hand on the prince’s back to guide him to the baggage claim. “We won’t be here for long, so, don’t get too excited. We’ve come here for one reason and we shouldn’t dally otherwise.” 

The young boy appeared to frown, and Two bit his lip with a little chuckle. “Way to crush the kids dreams F.” 

“You know the mission, J.” Jeongin gritted his teeth with the words. “Everything is set, there will be a car waiting for us in the garage, and at the hotel we’ll have anything we need.” 

Prince Chan lulled his head back with heels clicking on the flooring. Rogue strands of his hair hung over his sunglasses where he threw a look back at you while pulling them down. 

“Don’t forget our little deal Bee? We’ll have time for a little pleasure.” 

The white haired agent rolled his eyes with gusto then adjusted the royal’s glasses over his face. “We’ve still got to be careful, you Highness. We never know where they could have eyes.” 

“I know where I’ve got mine...” He turned back once more to throw his cockiness in your general direction. 

“Listen to F, your Highness...if you want to live.” 

“Oooo. Feisty as ever, Bee. I love it when you bite back.” Chan turned to his new pet, Seungmin, “She’s really something isn’t she?”

The young man nodded, but not necessarily because he agreed, but it just seemed like it better to agree with a prince than to disagree with him. 

The air appeared to turn even thicker in the summery and arid city and your group approached the parking lot half shaded. Outside of the cement lot, iridescent waves of heat wiggled on the horizon, and further, the astonishing urban sprawl of Cairo, and just over it, the stretch of the Nile and Giza. Palms and other varieties of plants spotted the landscape and above it all, a perfectly crystal blue sky streaked with thin clouds. Had the circumstances been different, you really would have wished to have been there for pleasure. 

“This one. Right here.” Jeongin announced upon spotting the black armored sedan. It wasn’t the most inconspicuous vehicle, but you were prioritizing safety over aesthetics. Your partner touched his index fingerprint to the car door’s invisible panel, and it flashed blue just as the lock had at the safehouse with the ticking clock insignia. 

Two whipped his head around to make one last check of the surroundings before taking off his sunglasses and reddened eye. “Get in. Both of you.” He urged the prince and the student. He popped the drivers side open to find a different pair of glasses in the storage compartment: gold framed aviators. 

“Huh,” He said happily while putting them on. “This is more my style.” He rummaged around a bit more to find a new pair of black framed glasses there too. “Fox! Think fast!” He threw them over to your partner who sighed out with relief. 

“Thank god.” 

The trunk opened with a mechanical sounding creek, and you lifted up the trunk bed to find your whole arsenal: Heckler & Koch MP5′s submachines, Remington 870 shotguns, and Glocks complete with thigh holsters. Among the pile of metal, various knives and other weapons were held in foam holders. 

“They’ve got knives back there?” Two asked while pulling the rearview mirror to see. 

“Oh yeah. What? You more of a knife guy?” You teased while looping your thigh holster over your cargo pants. It fit just right. 

The illusive man popped his gum with a shiny smile. “‘Don’t ever have to reload them...that’s what I’m saying.” 

“Thank you Carroll.” Jeongin sighed upon seeing the thick laptop among the weapons. “Finally I can do some real work. That kid’s damn Chromebook was killing me. I nearly short circuited it trying to connect to our network.” 

“You what?!” Seungmin was suddenly much more interested. 

“Dont worry yourself too much, its still fine.” 

“Are there cameras in here?” You quickly asked your partner. 

“Agency should’ve fried them a long time ago. Why?” 

From the trunk bed you sized up the Glock to feel its weight and how cool it settled into your sweating hand. You unloaded the magazine to see that it had already been filled. 

“Carroll. She really is too kind to us.” You slid the magazine back in then, pulled back the slider to lock it once more, catching Chan’s adoring glance. 

“Something interesting pretty boy?” 

The prince appeared to shiver a little, but brushed it off sighing, “Oh, nothing.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Either it was Carroll or the King, but someone had spared no expense on the young prince. The sun set upon the sparking Nile where you had arrived at the Four Seasons Hotel Cairo at Nile Plaza. 

Anything for His Royal Highness The Prince. 

The towering and gleaming building was a sight to behold in and of itself. It was nestled right into the riverside anchored with several leisurely sailboats bopping in the evening breeze. As day crept into night, the city grew with a swell of lights washing as far as you could see. Extensive bridges and roadways glowed with headlights and every building appeared to be illuminated along with more boats strolling down the river in a rainbow of colors and music. 

The prince craned his head as close to the window as he could and rubbed together his hands excitedly. He looked from you to your partners, finally making a disapproving scoff. 

“Come on. You’re not just a little excited to be here?” 

“We’re here on business, how many times do we have to explain?” Jeongin typed away at his computer from the front seat. 

“Bee?” He looked back to you with a hopeful little glint to his eye. 

“Like Fox said...tomorrow is our appointment with White Rabbit, then we’re on the first flight back home for you.” 

The young prince frowned, but this quickly faded once he had seen the golden brass doors to the magnificent hotel. Seeing the state that the four of you were in, it was a bit comical that you had rolled up to a place such as this. Immediately a valet and bellhop jogged up to the car wearing perfectly pressed uniforms and spotless shined shoes. Little did they know you had no belongings to your name...the rest was waiting in your suite: the royal kind. 

Seungmin cranked his neck to take in the scale of the building in all of it’s regal glory and let out an airy laugh his with his backpack straps snapped tight. 

“Holy shit.” He exclaimed with a giant smile 

Two rose a “no thank you” hand to the valet, and asked him where the garage was in perfect Arabic. The gesture surprised you...as many things did with that man. Jeongin gave a little nod in appreciation to the bellhop and expressed with his own broken version of Arabic that you group had no luggage. The young man was confused, but still gladly took the bills that Jeongin had slipped into his hand for the inconvenience. 

“We’re staying here?” Seungmin wondered while he followed you in. 

“When you travel with The Prince, it comes with some perks.” Chan tore off his glasses with a particularly prideful grin. 

“I feel like I need to pay for just...breathing in here.” 

Indeed, it was a luxurious and grand place. The atrium was patterned with various plush lounge chairs and benches and the path was made of emerald green marble tiles with swirling designs of beige loops. Thick, round columns also supported the ceilings in the lobby, and crystal glass chandeliers sparkled. On several tables, massive floral arrangements had been freshly placed, and you wondered how much the hotel must've paid for them to look that good just to have them replaced the next day. 

A couple formalities were exchanged with the worker at the front desk, and soon the keycards to the royal suite were placed into your hands. Seungmin held his piece of plastic as if it were a gold bar in his hands whereas Chan shoved it right into his front pocket. 

“Everything that we should need should be up in the room.” You told the group who were too distracted to hear what you had just said. 

Just before you had entered the elevator, a tug at your sleeve stopped you in your tracks. Jeongin pulled you back, nodding at Two to go with the others up first. 

“Remember what we talked about before?” He muttered in the hollow and stone corridor. “About the prince?” 

“I need to stay beside him?” 

Your partner nodded with a furrowing brow. “We’re out in the open here, it’s a big city...anyone could be watching us. No distractions, no messing around, no anything. We see White Rabbit and we leave. Hell, I’m even inclined to make sure he doesn’t leave the room...” 

“Jeongin...” You squeezed your partner’s shoulder which felt stringy and tense under your fingertips. “I got it. Trust me. He won’t leave my sight. I promise.” 

“..Okay.” He said with a nervous brush to his hair, then he pressed the elevator button with his knuckle. 

“You...okay?” 

The young man appeared to snap out of a trance. “What? ...Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m keeping it together fine. It’s just...there’s a lot riding on this mission. I don’t...” 

The gold and reflective elevator dinged to the ground floor. 

“We can’t disappoint Carroll with this one. There’s too much riding on it...I can’t disappoint Carroll.”      

You invited your partner into the marbled and mirrored interior of the small space. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━ 

 Even without the help of his royal helpers, Chan managed to clean himself up nice...provided, only the finest clothes had been sent for him to wear. While they weren’t the usual designer labels that he was used to, it was clear that they had been picked out from the finest markets and boutiques in the area. Chan, as he always was, was a prince to the full extent of the word. After a shower and some perfume to his chest, he was the same man that you had been introduced to. 

A loose linen shirt swayed from his frame with little regard for the usage of buttons. He wore slacks that had been pressed made of a kind of fabric that you had never seen before, but looked airy and comfortable. As always, there was a small assortment of shoes for him to choose from as well. He picked brown leather loafers, then tucked up his sleeves to reveal his arms; scratched as they were, but still strong and spiderwebbed with thick veins. 

Arrangements had been made for you to share one of the bedrooms with him--as much as you had fought it at first. Chan was thrilled with the idea, and gladly let you settle into his room with your small assortment of sidepieces and modest set of clothes by regulation of The Agency. While it had mostly been denim button downs and several kinds of functional trousers, they had sent an evening gown. 

The silky white fabric was not unlike the dress that had worn for the gala, but it appeared to be even more sultry once you held it to your frame. The thin spaghetti straps barely held to your shoulders and the back dipped nearly halfway down your back. 

Knowing the man that you had an appointment with, you figured the dress would make it just a little bit easier to talk to him. Along with it, there was a matching set of diamond earrings and a necklace that glinted with the same sheen of the sea. 

“You’ll look gorgeous in that.” Chan said while slipping on a wristwatch. “I’m sure that it will suit you perfectly.” 

The wooden bedside nightstand creaked when you put your holster and Glock in with a matching matte black knife. You had to be careful with that one, as it had nearly cut your finger upon inspection earlier.         

“Hm. I think the both of us know that you’d prefer it on these lovely marble floors rather than on me. Correct?” 

The confident prince strode across the room in the dim lighting of a couple lamps with stained glass shades. Outside of the balcony attached to your room, the sheer curtains blew in the night air and distorted the city lights across the river. Further, Cairo Tower surged with a pink light wrapping around the length were the cylinder pierced the sky. 

“Maybe.” He tutted, then crinkled the king-sized bed where he sat. The prince’s disposition was alluring, there was no denying. He tiled his head to inspect you further, jaw clenching with a sharp angle and a testing glare to his brown pupils. The man smiled slightly while rubbing his index and ring finger down the sleeve of your considerably less scratchy blouse. 

“I hope that during our time here Bee, I’ll get to know you a little better. I’m...really looking forward to our drink later. I made reservations for us.” 

“Reservations? When did you do that?” 

“Oh. When you were showering.” He smirked at his sneaky plans unbeknownst to you. 

“If you think that I’m letting you go anywhere else besides this hotel--” 

“--Bee?” The young royal grew quieter, softer, careful even. His hand cascaded from your arm down to your waist where he tentatively went to grab at your hip and squeeze lightly there. 

While your first reaction was to swat him away, your second crept up on you unexpectedly, and swelled with a kind of confused euphoria feeling the pressure of him on your body. You let his hand linger there, thumb pressed into your hipbone. 

“You don’t need that dress to be beautiful.” 

His words snapped you back; sickly sweet, and sticky in your chest. You cast his hand off of you. 

“You’re crossing the line, your Highness. Don’t...don’t touch me again.” 

The royal sighed as he rose, then inspected his face in the sizeable mirror. Each of his cuts and scars had been skillfully covered with makeup the best he could manage.  

“Bee, I’d cross multiple lines for you. I thought you knew?”    

“THIS BED IS FUCKIN’ AMAZING!!” Seungmin called from the opposite of the suite. 

The prince smiled, then followed you to the door. 

“I’ve already got enough on my hands, your Highness. I ask that you not distract me.” 

“Distract you?” 

As soon as you had said it, regret bit at the tips of your ears. You couldn’t meet his teasing glances, but rather slid one of your more discrete sidepieces into your crossbody bag--as if guns as such could be such a thing. 

“I-I...I’ll sleep on the couch.” You then resolved out loud, however the prince chuckled at your sudden break. 

“As you wish Bee.” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“I think that this is the best meal that I’ve ever eaten in my entire life!!” 

Seungmin kicked his legs under the table to the embarrassed glances of both Jeongin and Chan. Before you, the prince had ordered a variety of both cold and hot mezzah dishes with a couple main entrees for you to share. While he was the only one to drink, he indulged in the most expensive wine that the hotel had to offer. Granted, everything would be paid for in cash from The Agency, however the Prince swore up and down that anyone could order anything that they wanted and that The Agency would be paid back in full. You and your partners ate modestly, however the young student didn’t hold back. As the boy shoved his face, it appeared to make the prince happy to see him eating so well. 

You were still an odd group, and garnered curious glances from other restaurant guests. While they were only glances in passing, they still didn’t make you feel any better. You had already drawn enough attention to yourself with you being an odd mix of foreigners who each held themselves differently. You could sense that you partner felt it too while he sipped at his seasonal soup with eyes up to scan the room as he did so. 

Chan threw his arm behind your chair to take in the rest of the room: perfectly decorated with jade green chandeliers and perfectly symmetrical wallpaper and furnishings. It was as if he felt somehow content with your strange little group; like he was the ringleader of it all or some king of the round table. For a moment, he paused to watch the way that the boats passed by on the river from the window nearest to him and sighed. Knowing him, he was probably enjoying running for his life in this way. 

Two cleared his throat and unbuttoned his fashionable suit jacket as the waiters came to clear the table for dessert. 

“So. What are the specs for tomorrow?” 

Jeongin fiddled with his glasses, then dabbed away at the corners of his mouth. “He’s invited us to come around 11pm. He wants us to dress up too--as I’m sure you’ve all seen the clothes that have been provided for us. He apparently loves his formalities, but, anything to make him feel more comfortable I suppose. His men will meet us in the front and take us to him, then we try our best not to fuck it up.”

“--Which we won’t.” You soothed your partner. 

Seungmin perked up, “I’m coming too?” 

“How else are we going to look after ya, kid?” Two ruffled up the young man’s hair. 

“W-wait. Didn’t you say that it’s a club? Will they even let me in? I’m not like, 21 yet? I mean, I will be in a couple months--” 

“--Ahhh you’re so cute.” Chan beamed. “If you’re rolling with us that doesn’t matter.” 

Seungmin blushed and played with the condensation of his water glass. “Oh.” 

Your partner shifted in his seat. “Speaking of. Considering that you’re “one of us” now. We need to discuss something important with you. Your identity.” He looked over to you to finish the rest of the speech that had been pushed off for just a bit too long. 

“Your name...is your most valuable asset. It’s the only thing about yourself that you can keep for yourself. No one else should know it besides you...and, well, us. If they know your name, they know your family, they know where you live, where you go to school, even that girl that you had a crush on in the fourth grade. Got it?” 

Seungmin gulped dry with blown out eyes. “I-I think that I understand.” 

“What do you want us to call you from now on?” 

He paused, considering towards the ceiling. ”Well...if you’re B, and he’s F...and he’s J...I could be S? Simple enough right?” 

“S it is then.” 

The waiters arrived with every dessert possible: chocolate cake, Crème Brule, fruit cheesecake garnished with mint, as well as traditional desserts like Om Ali and Mehalabiya--a type of milk pudding dressed with delicate, pink, edible flowers. 

Seungmin--now dubbed S--made happy little eating sounds while he tried a little bit of everything. 

“Thank you.” You finally spoke to the prince, who now smelled strongly of Lotus and Jasmine. 

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind treating my friends.” 

The word hung in the air, and you didn’t quite know what to do with it. 

Friends. 

“Where is this reservation that you mentioned?” 

He took a swing from his crystal glass with finesse. “Hm. That’s for me to know and you to find out.” 

“Jeongin told me that I need to keep an eye on you, you know that? It would be best if we didn’t leave the hotel at all--” 

“--But what would be the fun in that?” The prince nearly pouted. 

From the others side of the table, Two in his aviators brushed off his lap before standing. “I’m going to get some sleep, if that’s alright with you? I’m feeling pretty jetlagged and I want to be prepared for tomorrow. Excuse me.” 

The slender man bowed to you at the table, then even deeper to the prince. 

“What was that about?” Jeongin muttered while he poked at the thin caramel layer of his French dessert. 

“Actually, I think I want to head to bed too, I’m stuffed.” Seungmin rubbed his belly in his contentment. “Also...I think I might have homework due...heh. I don’t know...I’ve got to figure out all these all these time differences and stuff.” He pushed in his chair then gave the prince a deep bow. “Thank you, your Highness.” 

“My pleasure.” Chan said with a tiny bow back. “Rest up, kid.” 

With the empty holes at the table, the silence was deafening. 

“And then there were three.” Jeongin yawned. “Bee? Wanna do some laps in the morning? I saw that they had a pool? Wanna see if you can beat my record...again?” 

“Psh. I was coming off that biochemical cocktail the last time we tired. You had an advantage.” 

“Then you’ll beat me? Hm! I look forward to that.” Your adorable partner flashed the first smile that you’d seen in a couple days. You missed it, you realized. 

“Sleep tight Bee. Goodnight your Highness.” 

“Thank you Fox.” The prince mirrored his warm smile. 

Knives and forks clinked on china in the dining room, and music softly payed the soundtrack of the evening. A low hum filled the space where the tourists and patrons chatted among themselves. It was peaceful and normal amidst everything that had been pricking your skin and plaguing worry over your mind. The prince merely sighed, sparking eyes reflecting the candles dying out on the table. 

“And now it’s just the two of us.” 

“Seems like it.” 

“Can I whisk you away now?” 

“Whisk? Who said that I would allow any whisking?” 

“Come on...Bee. Just this one time? I promise to be on my best behavior.” 

You laughed out incredulously at the comment. “You out of all people can’t promise something like that.” 

“I guess you’re right about that. But...still, I won’t try to make a scene or anything.” 

The royal placed his napkin on the table with his knife and fork respectfully tilted off the edge of his plate. 

“Follow me?” 

Chan held out his hand. It was pink with heat and scraped a little from the glass that had pierced the fragile flesh. In some way, you had felt a twinge of guilt seeing the small injury knowing that you couldn’t have protected him well enough then. You allowed him to lace your fingers with yours, and felt the rough cuts of his scars in your palm. 

You had promised to yourself that he would never know such pain again. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“Annnd...this is it!” 

You had taken all of twenty paces outside of the hotel when Chan gestured with open arms to the riverfront. Just at the riverbank, a steamboat was anchored with open doors for hotel guests to enter. The massive, multideck, white steamboat shone like the moon peaking at the ocean’s horizon. Each of the semi-circle windows were lined with white lights and from the inside, the delightful sound of laugher and live music spilled out to the glossy water of the Nile. 

“W-what is this?” 

“Well…it’s a dinner cruise but I just signed us up for the bar part. Are you...surprised? I thought that it must be pretty safe considering that we’re on the water and no one can drive up and shoot at us.” 

“I mean...it’s a bit closed off, but nothing that I can’t handle.” 

The prince held out his arm for you to lead the way, then took your hand to help you watch your step down the stairs. Chan provided his name to the conductor in elegant sounding Arabic, leaving you shocked. 

“Y-you speak Arabic too?” 

Chan chuckled once more, taking your hand in his to bring you down the creaking wood deck with swinging with lanterns above your heads. 

“As a royal and diplomat, it’s best for me to know how to communicate if I might need to.” 

“I must say your Highness, I am definitely impressed.” 

“What? You thought I was just another pretty face?” The charming prince escorted you to a room within the steamboat that was lined with red velvet carpets and small bar tables with tea candles and water lilies floating in a shallow dish. He pulled out your chair before his own, then settled with hands folded in his lap. “I’m trained in hand-to-hand too, although I could use a refresher; that was so long ago, back when I went to school.” 

“Hand-to-hand? Well! You really are full of surprises.” 

The prince appeared smug and faintly amused by the compliment as he crossed his legs under the table and leaned in with his dizzying floral scent. 

The waitress appeared and Chan flexed his language skills once more while he ordered a Hemmingway Daiquiri for himself and a French 75 for you. Somewhere off in the distance or perhaps a different part of the boat, louder and more excitable music played along with the echoing claps of those who listened along. Here, it was much quieter, and the loud sound was replaced with a jazz song that you had heard before--likely from your more formative years. 

“It’s a beautiful night.” Chan began, “Thank you for agreeing to do this with me. I know that I’ve been a bit forward, but, I appreciate you entertaining me.” 

“If I had said no, what would’ve happened then?” 

“Well, maybe I would’ve dropped it, but...knowing you...I don’t think that I would’ve given up easily.” 

The waitress returned with the drinks on a silver platter: his grapefruit pink and yours the color of a lemon drop. 

The royal rose his glass for you to clink with yours, “To...adventures.” 

“To adventures.” 

With a resounding sound, the glasses met, and you watched the way that the shimmering liquid ripped across the prince’s nose. 

The two of you sat for several moments more, saying nothing, but sipping and soaking in the night breeze and the humidity that made your whole body feel blanketed with a sense of calm. You had felt this way before back at the safe house, and it snuck up on you once more. Simply exisiting with the prince provided you with a sense of solace that had long since faded from your life. The sense of responsibility that you felt for the man was noticeable, but you couldn’t help but notice how he provided for you the same sense of safety that you did for him. 

Perhaps it was the loneliness of the job and the solitude that came along with it. Was that you craved to be touched? Listened to? Admired? You had distanced yourself from irrational things such as love and other feelings of attachment. In your line of work, people died often, and you had to move on just as fast as their lives had been taken from them. You supposed that you had become unfeeling at this point...but this prince, so full of himself and focused on the material...there was something about him that reminded you how to feel. 

“Bee? What are you thinking about?” He asked carefully. 

“Oh...nothing.” 

“You looked kind of lost here.” 

“Was I?” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah...yeah. I’m fine. Maybe the drink is just...getting to me.” 

“Just one drink?” Chan giggled a bit, “I didn’t take you for being a lightweight Bee. I thought that they gave you like, drinking lessons or something back at that agency of yours.” 

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have more than one drink anyway.” 

The prince nodded, understanding. “So, what will you tell me about yourself? Is there anything that you’re allowed to tell me? Or...will you always be this mysterious, beautiful, enigma?” 

“Me? Enigmatic? Ha! Hardly.” 

“Well? What then?” The prince sucked at the lime garnishing his glass. “Since I don’t have the pleasure of knowing your real name, I’d love it if you could tell me something.” 

Over the stereo, the muted trumpet played along with the twang of thick upright bass strings,

“I suppose I could tell you how...” Chan leaned in, “I didn’t want to join The Agency. At first.” 

“Oh? Why’s that?” 

“It felt like a bit of a last resort and anything that is a last resort is something that can’t come easy.” 

Chan titled his head as if to say, I’m listening. 

“Life...fucking sucks sometimes. Sometimes...you’re left...living with your sleazy uncle with a letter addressed to you post mortem telling you to carry on the family name if you want to feel some connection to the parents that you never knew.” 

The royal cast his eyes down, “I-I’m so sorry.” 

“The Agency has been everything I’ve known since I was a teenager. This life...it’s everything. I think in a way I feel obligated to it...since it was what took my parents from me...I owe it to them to do a job that they spent so much energy on so that it wasn’t in vain.” 

You stopped, realizing the weight of your words in the air and how they cut like the blade of the knife that you kept tucked in your waistband sheathed in a leather cover. Once the sharp metal was taken from it’s confines, there was nothing to protect those from the damage it could do. 

“Bee...I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry. That’s terrible. I can’t imagine what it must be like to loose your parents and have been thrown into this life...no one deserves that.” 

“Its okay.” You sighed. “I did it to myself. Now, it’s of no concern. I can take care of my own, and I have a new family. I try not to look back.” 

As he had done numerous times before that night, Chan’s hand reached out for yours under the table, brushing up against the white cloth. 

“I can’t say how much I appreciate you enough for what you do; risking your life for me...I owe you everything Bee.” The prince softened, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. 

The chug of the steamboat hissed softly behind you in that back bar room, and just through the windows, you could see the stars dotting the sky just as they did in any corner of the world. They were a reminder that while some things changed, others didn’t. 

The echo of footsteps on the deck clicked, causing you to turn a careful glance back to the direction of the sound. The man who entered was dressed in a casual cotton button up and navy slacks. On the white of his breast, he wore a pin holding the symbol of a crest.

“Lee Minho?” Chan gasped. 

“Your Highness!” The handsome man bowed immediately with a startled little smile. 

The friendly prince stood immediately upon seeing the other royal to shake his hand. “What a coincidence that we meet again!” 

Lee Minho shied with a polite smile while fiddling with his hair that looked to be masterfully styled. “Must be...fated. Or something like that.” 

“Are you alright? Last I saw you was at the shooting at the gala. I’m so glad to see that you’re safe. You didn’t get injured I hope?” 

This close, Lee Minho had oddly cat-like eyes that were as intense as they were alluring. He was just as you had remembered him to be--put together and polished like a true royal, dastardly handsome with all the right curves to his body, and just enough mystery to him to pique the interest of anyone who had sensed his air--just as the prince had. 

“What are you doing in Cairo?” Chan asked, gesturing for the stranger to pull up a chair. 

Lee Minho swatted away the question with an annoyed cringe. “Royal stuff, you know how it goes. Everyone is always trying to poke their noses in places where they shouldn’t be...unless they’re looking to get themselves killed. That's why they send me. I’m dispensable.” 

“Oh, I’d hardly say that.” 

In seconds the prince’s entire body had shifted towards the direction of the other man, and hung onto each of his words as if they were a siren song. 

“When you’re not as high up in the ranks as you are your Highness, royalty starts to feel more like servitude than a legitimate position.” 

“So, where are you poking your nose?” 

Lee Minho’s eyes nervously flicked to you, and Chan realized that he had skipped right over introductions. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce the two of you. Minho, this is Bee, my--” 

“--I’m a member of his detail.” You spoke for him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you formally Lee Minho. I recall seeing you at the gala.” 

Minho bowed slightly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” 

It was obvious that you had made the man uncomfortable, just as you had liked it to be. While you could see what the prince had seen in him, you had the disposition to be much less trusting than his Highness. 

“Which royals are employing you? I’d love to know! It’s always exciting for me to learn about who is plotting what. The royal drama keeps me really entertained.” 

Minho sat up straighter, then waved a hand for the waitress to come scuttling over. 

“Some of my family members. You wouldn’t know them, we’re all dreadfully insignificant to be honest. They heard all this business about those men with the red crests and they’re starting to get scared. After they targeted...you, they’re wondering which royal family might be next...if any. I’m here to find out who they are, their whereabouts, anything else.” 

“Wow! That’s actually what we--”

“--And where are you planning on getting this information if I may ask?” You hushed the prince’s loose lips as quickly as you could. 

Minho leaned in over the flickering candle to lower his tone, “I heard that there’s an informant here in the city who might now something about this group. They’ve been popping up on national news too as of late. I’m looking to talk to him tomorrow evening. Luckily, I was able to make an appointment but it was no small feat. I had to bribe him to high hell to get him to speak with me.” 

“Hm. Sounds familiar.” You mumbled. 

Chan’s eyes widened, then he looked back to you to ask for permission. You gave him a nod.

“It seems like we’re here for a common purpose my friend.” The prince leaned in to bridge the gap between them, his hand notably reaching to rest on the other man’s thigh below the table’s surface. “We’re seeking similar information and I think we might be speaking of the same informant.” 

“But your Highness, isn’t it dangerous it you to do something like this?” 

“Not when I’ve got her around.” Chan threw a sly grin to you across the table. “I’m well protected. And you? Where’s your detail?” 

“I’m afraid that I’m out here alone. Like I said, when you’re as low in the ranks as I am...” 

“What? That’s terrible!! They aren’t even protecting their own? Bee!!” 

“Yes, your Highness?” You already knew where this was going. 

“Let’s bring Minho along with us tomorrow! We know that there’s safety in numbers--” 

“Your Highness, in case you haven’t noticed, our hands are already a bit full...”

“I can fend for myself.” Lee Minho suddenly piped. “Travelling alone, I’ve picked up a few things about protecting myself. You don’t have to protect me, but, I appreciate the offer.” 

“Nonsense! You should come with us! I would feel more comfortable if you did rather than went by yourself.” 

Lee Minho gave the royal a smile in his thanks, it was pure and a little adorable you had considered...but that was likely the champagne going to your head. 

“Really? I appreciate it, your Highness.” 

While you were distanced, you nearly could’ve sworn that the prince had squeezed the other’s leg reassuringly, and you were willing to bet he had rubbed it with his thumb too just as he had done to you. 

After long, the waitress returned with Lee Minho’s drink, and the two men chatted like old college buddies while you slipped away at your drink in an attempt to make it last as long as you could. While Chan did try to engage you in conversation, it would never last for long until he would become puppy-eyed over the stranger again. In the end, you wondered if the tipsy prince would’ve also confessed to this man if he had one too many drinks. 

The table bumped with their jovial and restless legs, and you could only imagine what wandering hands sought to discover. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The hotel was quiet save for the click of heels on the marble floors from ladies who had just gotten off the steamboat and clung to their husbands in their drunken stupor. They cackled in the empty and golden lobby, then pressed hasty kisses into the stuttering mouths of their husbands who’s mouths then smeared with hot pick lipstick. Chan giggled at the sight while he tripped over his own feet too. 

“Ahhhh. Being in love is so cute.” He adored them once you had entered the elevator. 

“You’re not going to throw up on me, are you?” 

The prince hiccupped, then shook his head. “Unlike you I know how to hold my liquor. I’m fine. Just a bit sleepy I think. Must be the jet lag.” 

The tones for each floor beeped in the compartment, and Chan lulled his head back and forth. 

“So. Lee Minho huh?” You said, not even able to help yourself. The alcohol had brought you a bit of an edge...so you thought. 

“Lee. Minho.” He sighed out dreamily. “What do you think of him?” 

“I think I can’t trust anyone as long as I haven’t ran at least three background checks on them.” 

“Awww, Bee, you’re so thoughtful of me.” 

In the empty hallway, the prince with squinting eyes leaned against the doorframe to the royal suite, reaching out to brush up against your blouse once more. You let him, excusing his drunken state. After he did so, his eyes hazed over with something much different, while he looked exhausted, it was laced with something else: something much more longing. 

“Bee...fuck, I really want to kiss you again.” 

“Hm. That’s ripe coming from you who was just viciously flirting with Lee Minho.” 

You could see his head spinning in his dilated pupils. “What?” 

The door clicked open and you less than gracefully lead the prince through the dark to your shared bedroom. 

“B-Bee, what are you talking about?” 

You scoffed, “I’m not blind, you know.” 

“A-are you...jealous?” 

“W-what? Fuck no. I’m just...you can’t just...toss people around thinking that they’ll all bend to you.” 

Chan sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed at his temples when you turned one of the lamps on. 

“I-I was doing that?” 

You tore a pillow from the bed as well as the throw blanket at the end. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Good evening, your Highness.” 

“Wait! Bee!” The young prince stumbled after you, stubbing his toe against the bedpost in the process. “Ah-FUCK!” He grunted. 

“What?” You growled back to him, half shrouded in the darkness of the suite living room. 

The royal stumbled out, eyes blank and backlit from the bedroom. While you couldn’t see him fully, you later could assume that there was something in him terribly torn and ripped in that moment that made little sense to him, as it did to you to. 

Arms reached out, bodies softly illuminated by the lights of the city, and the prince leaned himself fully into you, pressing bitter tasting lips to yours with a heat and desire that only seemed amplified the breather he had gotten. While he tasted of lime and grapefruits, with a twinge of alcohol. He was just as addictive as any vice. You wanted to feel him. As infuriating as he was, and oblivious, your abhorrence to him was just as strong as your attraction. 

“Mm, Bee--” He moaned directly into your mouth while shuffling both of you back to the bedroom. 

The prince’s trembling breath floated from his mouth to yours where he used both of his large hands to pull your face closer to his. You knew that in some way, there must have been something ingenuine about the whole scenario, but you didn’t care too much, not when kissing him felt like something. Maybe he had kissed you out of pity, or because he really had wanted to kiss you. You broke for seconds before both of your tangled limbs hit the bed. 

“Before...you said that you wouldn’t kiss me.” 

“I didn’t make any promises...but, how come...you said that you wouldn’t hesitate...? But you kissed ba--” 

You silenced the prince’s words with your own heated kisses that made little sense, only that kissing him as such felt good. You straddled the man while his hungry fingers traced all the way down your back. The prince’s hips sunk into the cushiony mattress, and you screwed him down even harder into it with your own heated hips grinding into him with as much pressure as you could muster. 

“This is what you want, right?” You pulled at his lip with your teeth to hear him groan from it. 

“Is it...what you want?” Chan got out between more kisses. 

You could blame it on loneliness or lack of touch all that you wanted, but it wasn’t even close. 

“Wait. Wait.” Chan suddenly interjected. 

“What? What is it?” 

The prince looked up at you, that haze in his eyes now fading to something much different that wasn’t covered in the lust that he held before. 

“Bee...I-I don’t know if I want it to happen this way. It feels...it’s not...” 

“Not what?” 

He brushed his hand upward now to caress your face, lingering on the side of the peach fuzz on your cheek. “You deserve better than whatever the hell this is.” 

“Oh, so when I finally want to fuck you, you’re saying it isn’t right?” 

“I’m saying, I’m drunk, it’s late, clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you, and I want to know what it is before we do anything else. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

It might’ve been Lee fucking Minho, or it might’ve been something else much stickier for you to admit, but seeing the prince like this, it was too much. He was gorgeous under you, practically angelic looking. 

“I-I’m...complicating things.” You whispered out, and the prince softened even further. 

“That’s what it is? Bee, I told that you don’t have to worry about--” 

“--Yes. Yes I do...your Highness. I-I can’t feel...” 

“Bee--let’s just talk about--” 

The prince might’ve said more, but his words faded into murmurs once you closed his door behind you, then crawled onto the couch in Jeongin and Seungmin’s room, locking their door too. 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

[queenofwerewolves]

Future Hope - chapter 2 - Starting something new..

They were almost ready, all they needed was the one thing every revolution heroes needed: Badass outfits. For that, they counted on Griff to make some patterns to stick on their outfits or whatever weapons they carried, Kip suggested to make stickers to glue them around the city whenever a crime occured and they came to the rescue, to leave a message that something happened. Everyone loved that idea, and eitch one got to work in making their outfits, stickers and whatever else they needed to start the revolution for real...

With stickers and acessories settled, now they needed the main thing: The outfits. But.. No one knew how to sew or make clothing.

"Wait!" Maria shouted. "I know someone! Ya'll remember Maggy yeah?" She added with a tone of excitement.

"Ah, isnt she the one who draws the Metal Werehog and how you joke she refuses to tag you in them?" Togekiss answered with a tone of sass. Maria blushed and pouted her lips.

"Yeah yeah. Anyways she's visiting here for a local con, selling her drawings and prints, did you know she actually sews and knits clothes?" Maria added with a tad of admiration.

"Really? Well shit badass then" Blink added with a soft smile. "How do we get in contact with her?" She asked.

"She should be at the event center setting up her booth stand. If we leave now we'll have plenty of time to talk to her." Maria answered with a confident tone.

"What are we waiting then?" Kip added. "Let's go!"

Everyone nodded and made their way to the local event center.

At that same event center, Maggy was setting up her booth, putting her prints up on the sides and on top of her desk, showing the kind of work she does and displaying her various pieces she drew herself, whether it was her OCs, Silent Hill or Sonic theme, eitch was individually beautiful and unique. She also set up a small cashier and some paper and pens for possible requests on the fly, or a doodle with an autograph, you can never be too prepared.

She was organizing her papers when a small hand knocked on the wooden booth to call her attention, she looked up to see the entire Future Hope crew, with Maria in front and smiling confidently.

"Maria!" She exclaimed happily, going around the booth for a hug, who Maria happily accepted the hug.

"It's so good to see you!" She said with an excited tone, she pulled apart from the tone and looked at the remaining others, many she didnt recgonize. "And.. Who are these?" Maggy asked.

"Ah, Maggy these are some of my Tumblr friends, like you! Im sure you know Griff already" Maria said referring to Griff, who had a hand behind his hand and sheepishly smiling. "But you see.. We kinda need a moment to talk to you, if that's OK" Maria asked, practically whispering to Maggy.

Maggy nodded, and leaded them to another area of the convention center which was emptier, so they could have some privacy. Once they got there, Maria explained as basicly as she could about her and Future Hope, the wishing fountain, their new powers, their intentions.. Maggy listened quietly, but intriguied as anyone would be.

"Woahh.." Maggy said, finally hearing the end of the story. "You guys really are gonna be super heroes?" She asked with a spark of excitement. "And I get to help?"

Maria nodded with a smile. "We need you to make outfits for us, whenever you have the time of course. None of can sew but we have the designs here for you. That is, if you-"

"Yes!!!" . Suddenly being cut off, Maggy got up with smiled with pride, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "I'd be honoured to help! This'll be so cool!! I'll have those made for you as soon as I can!" She said taking the designs from Maria.

Maria smiled and pulled her in for a hug. "I knew I could count on you.." She said softly. "Of course" Maggy responded. "After all: Nós portuguesas têm que contar uma na outra né?"

"Haha! Falou e disse amiga!" Maria responded in portuguese, both laughing together while leaving the others clueless, but nonetheless happy for them.

"Well." Maggy said. "I should head back, the con will start soon". Maria nodded and looked at the others, who agreed it was time to go home and wait, with a final hug, they said their goodbyes and headed back to Maria's house.

They werent simply gonna stand around and wait for the costumes to be ready, until then, they decided to fix up the one thing every SuperHero group needed: An HQ. A place to reunite, plan, organize and discuss strategies whie also knowing about whatever recent crime could be going on.

But of course, they were only a couple of young and very, very broke adults. Griff's Youtube Channel was starting to blow up but nothing too extreme yet, but he will get there soon. Same for Maria and her animation channel, they were started to get discovered but they had a long way to go. But it'll happen.

In the meantime, Maria does have a big and very spacious basement, they decided they would settle there for now. Blink and Kip started brooming the floor, Muffin and Spooks were dusting the walls, Muffin used her wings to reach the roof and corners, and Spooks enjoyed the darkness of the basement to summon her Dark Hands to help the job go quicker. Rooko and Rooki decided to go to a hardware store and get some new materials and give the basement a better fixer upper, install some new lights, maybe install a window...

Spike and Togekiss were out looking for things to decorate the HQ, a table, a rug, some chairs, a new wallpaper perhaps.. Meanwhile Maria and Griff were online shopping for some cool props to decorate the HQ as well, using Maria's laptop, they scowered the internet.

"Oo!" Exclaimed Griff, pointing at the screen. "This life-size Master Chief would really spice up the place!" He said excitedly, Maria shook her head with a soft smile. "Griffy we're only looking for small decorations, not turning my basement into nerdvana" She answered.

"Oh.. Right.. Sorry.." He sort of mumbled out, Maria raised a brow in concern and set the laptop next to her, placing a hand on his arm. "Is something wrong..?" She softly asked..

".. It's just.." Griff started to answer. "You know how overly-excited I get. You know how hyped and impacient I get for these things.. Im just worried that... That.."

"Yes..?" Maria asked.

"... What if I blow it?" He asked, with a tone of sadness. "What if my powers arent as good as I thought? What if instead of helping everyone, I just make everything worse..?!" His voice tone got louder as he started to slightly panic. "Im a big, musculent WereRabbit, that HAS to be scary in a way isnt it? Im practically a Mons-"

"Dont you dare finish that word!!!" Maria shouted at him, gripping his shoulders hard, looking at him straight in the eye, her black eyes glimmering like a starry night without the moon.. Glimmering with worry.

"Listen to me very, carefully. No matter what you are, or what you do. You.. will never, be a Monster.." "Monsters arent the big unknown creatures we see in movies, they're out there, looking like us, gaining people's trust just so they can take advantage of them, taking or ruining innocent lives, people who have their heads so far up their asses they've become blind and see nothing but themselves. THOSE ARE MONSTERS!!!" She raised her voice, shaking a little bit. Griff only stared at her, shaking a bit as well, until suddenly Maria placed her head on his chest, pulling him in for a hug..

"You're not even close to being like them, and your physical appearance doesnt define your heart.. Please, never doubt yourself like that again.. Because you are better then this, and you know it.." She quietly spoke, waiting for a reply.. Which she didnt receive. Griff embrace the hug back, and that was all that needed to be said, without words whatsoever. Between those two, the message was clear:

Monsters are the ones who cause darkness around them, and not them, or their friends are even close to being them, they are the opposite. They will be the light, a new beginning, a new..

Future Hope..

[bbbqlays]

다섯: 강한 감정

5: Strong Feelings

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

It was a new day, and after your encounter yesterday with the man in charge, you were sort of on edge with everything.

“Hey there Eri. I heard you got new books to read.” Your hand reached to a box, opening it you found picture books along with fantasy chapter books. “Do you have a preference for any of these?”

She picked out the most colorful picture book. “You want to read the Paper Dragon?”

You picked up the book and looked at the cover. It was very colorful. She smiled widely, reaching out for the book with awe. “Okay!” You chuckled playfully sitting on her bed, she followed behind and brushed up against you.

You began reading, trying your best to make it entertaining, you even got one of the guards to laugh, a golden blonde haired man. You’ve never seen him until now, his eyes were a boost in mood, and you could tell he was smiling at certain moments.

The book was finished and Eri was way more excited about books, she jumped up but only fell on top of you as she laughed loudly.

“Ms, L/n, could you read another?”

“Why dont we do something better?”

Eri’s eyes lit up, wondering what could be better than a book. You stood up and went up to another box, you looked through to find one pair of child scissors and a bunch of colorful paper. You pulled out stacks and stacks and put them on the ground.

You waved eri over and pulled out a stack of papers. They were orgami papers with various colors. “We can make a paper dragon and hang it up on the ceiling” eri’s eyes brightened at the suggestion. “Oragami is one of the best things they teach you in school. Only because you can create anything out of paper by just folding.”

You divided the colors as quickly as you could before guiding eri through a talk. “Choose the colors and 12 pieces of paper.” She started picking out the colors, mostly being blues and purples, and everyone watched as she chose.

“Okay, and then now we are going to take the first piece.” You grabbed a random sheet of paper and sat on the ground across from her. You started to fold the paper and looked at eri to see if she followed. “And fold it... like that.” She did as she was told and smiled cheerfully while doing it.

Continuing, you explained and showed her every step. She followed delightfully. And the end result came to be two dragons long and proud. “And so now choose a color.” You offered the marker case and she randomly chose. It was purple. You picked out a black marker and picked up your dragon. “Draw a face.” You drew two little dots to signify eyes and a smile.

She did the same but instead had the tongue stick out. You both chuckled as you stood up, stretching. You looked at the clock on the side of her bed and sighed. “Looks like I need to go.” You groan and she followed with a sigh.

“Eri, I will be back tomorrow to hopefully do another fun activity. Maybe we’ll draw tomorrow.” Eri ran up and hugged, tightly gripping on your pants. She let go, but her stare seemed extra saddened. “See you tomorrow. Eat well.”

She nodded to that and you were escorted out. The man guiding you out had long golden hair. His mask fit snugly on his face, his green shirt adorned with a pinkish red tie.

You breathed softly as he guided you back to your room. “Does anyone ever talk?”

He looked at you, as if to smile. “Yeah, but usually to each other. Not really to the head.”

“The head... oh you mean Overhaul right?” He nodded in agreement. “What’s your name?”

“If you need to know, I’m Setsuno Toya.” He said it as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He was glad about the short lived conversation.

“Well, thank you Setsuno. Hopefully we can talk again.” He unlocked the doors with a bow, and you bowed again.

When entering you ripped off the mask and dropped it on your desk looking at the warm food displayed on the corner. It looked to be an American dish, specifically pizza. Toppings were placed on the side of the plate mostly meats.

You nodded to yourself and dug in, loving the warmth of the food. You closed your eyes enjoying the savory taste. It was a simple dish, and it tasted homemade. You wondered who made it and where, since you hadn’t smelled anyones cooking while with Eri.

You finished up, and looked around the desk, clothes laid out on the top and a new mask. You rolled your eyes feeling like a doll with all these clothes.

You rummaged through though, curious as to what they were. It was a blue short skirt, with black shorts, and a white button up blouse to match. It was as if it was made for a summer evening, or a date.

The thought made you chuckle as you threw them on the bed. To think you had a secret admirer was funny to also think about. The world built itself on soulmates, why would anyone play around with that.

The thought then hit you. “Fate... wouldn’t put me here right?” And you couldn’t play around with the thought of that because you couldn’t physically touch anyone.

Everyone had protection and you feel like you’d be killed if you were to touch someone. You tried to laugh the thought away but it lingered, and it scared you.

The clothes fit perfectly. Of course, and you felt good in it despite the earlier thoughts. You honestly thought you looked good in blue.

You enjoyed twirling around in it not being bothered to hear the door click open. You stopped twirling to feel good about yourself only to be met with the man in white.

Your face matched a shade of tomato as you went to try and hide yourself. You bowed to him apologizing silently. He simply bowed to you as well verbally apologizing for disrupting.

“I just came to get you for the meeting.”

You cleared your throat as you nodded. You grabbed the mask on the desk and threw it on still blushing embarrassingly. You walked out with him trying your best to slow your heart rate.

“Chrono right?” He nodded. “You’re like his right hand man, correct?”

“Yes, despite his demeanor he’s actually good.”

“I wasn’t doubting him, I was just going to ask... Why all this?”

Chrono looked at you not understanding the question. “Why this whole base? It seems eerie and too much.”

“Overhaul.” Chrono paused and thought about what to say. “He want’s to change the world. He wants an old image to come back.” Chrono nodded to his statement and continue guiding.

“So, it’s to better society... Correct?”

He nodded and that seemed to lift a burden from you somehow.

Chrono slowly opened the door and to welcome you was the same masked face you had seen last night. This time his tie was loosely around his neck, and he seemed more stressed than anything.

“Welcome Back!” Overhaul greeted you with open arms as he watched you sit. “Hopefully today wasn’t too overbearing.”

“No, of course not. Me and Eri simply read and did origami. Which I thank you for getting supplies for that.”

“So, I see you guys are getting along.” He adjusts his tie and looks off into the distance. “Do you have any other requests?”

Your eyes darted to his face immediately wondering what context. “To take care of Eri.” You were shaky now. Your head wanted to explode as you thought of other things to request that wasn’t for the benefit of Eri.

“Just supplies to draw with.” He nodded and looked at you pleasingly.

“And do you need anything? Specific things you had in your living quarters that you need here.”

You pondered. “If possible. A small library.” Your request seemed to peek his interest, and he simply chuckled.

“Very well.” His hand issued you away, and Chrono guided you out.

“Chrono. How can you tell when Overhaul likes someone?” It was a bold statement and you felt as if he wouldn’t answer properly.

“Don’t worry. He likes you just fine.” He gave you a genuine answer, making you think.

“Now, get some rest. And leave a note of all your favorite breakfast items under the door. Our ‘chef’ wants to make your stay here interesting and home-y.” He left with a nod.

You smiled, not a big smile, because what was there to smile about. You turned on the small lamp light on your desk and scanned your room feeling something off.

Flowers were on your nightstand. Not the ones from before but new ones. White roses. They filled the whole room with a beautiful scent.

You rushed to find another note under the vase, your hands feeling the hand writing. Beautiful cursive saying

‘You’re like a beautiful dove amongst a trash filled park. You stand out like a sore thumb. You please me without knowing it, and for that I keep you near.’

You couldn’t help but shiver as you read it. A smile wider than usual filled itself along your face.

“Beautiful.”

Someone is playing with the strings of fate, and falling for you evidently. You held the note close to your heart laughing loudly as you thought of who it could be.

Your heart fluttered as you thought of the man in white. He seemed to have more personality in this place than anyone else, and he’s seen you the most.

You giggle at the thought, and the thought of not even seeing his face filled you with mysterious happiness.

It was like being in grade school again...

Hey hey! Its Lay. I am sad to inform you that I am sick. I have covid and so it’s hard to get things done while sick. So sorry if uploads are delayed, and or not posted weekly. I’m trying my best, and hopefully you guys support me all the way through.

And if you want content from me everyday, I have a tiktok. I try my best to post everyday, but if you like overhaul here, you’ll definitely like overhaul over there! Thank you so much for reading and hopefully you stay healthy!

TAG LIST (OPEN)

@inanabsentia @wormxunii @lalachanya @cth-l @a-monsters-love @irisallenm @awkward-confused

[theggning]

First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors!

Thanks @mayihavethisdanse ! I definitely have more than 20 stories but some of them are from the... let’s call them the shame days. So I won’t be getting into those. Instead I’ll do some first lines from chapters. 

Fallout 4

Stories From the Front (Piper and Danse go on a mission and a ship happens on accident. Danse/Piper) 

The sun rose on another beautiful Commonwealth morning. Birds chirped serenely in the trees outside. A gentle breeze carried fresh air through the open shack window, rustling her hair and chilling her skin.

Piper opened her eyes, and instantly regretted it.

Souls That Cry For Water (Preston and Minuteman!Danse talk feelings. Gen)

“Good morning, Commonwealth. Well I- it’s actually night but when I say morning, I mean… technically it’s 2 AM, so that’s-- morning, since it’s after midnight…

“Anyway. Anyway. I know I usually have the-- have the recordings automated overnight, but I was lying there in bed, thinking about… Well, I started thinking about a scenario...”

All Along The Watchtower (Nick and Danse team up to solve a mystery and a friendship happens on accident. Gen, background Danse/Sole) 

1.  The sky rumbled, green flashes in the distance foretelling the radstorm a few seconds before the click-click-clicking in his chest. His internal Geiger counter hummed to life as the first heavy drops spattered against his fedora.

2. It wasn’t like Nick expected traveling with the least easygoing man in the Commonwealth to be a picnic, but he realized his crucial mistake about two hours in: he’d forgotten to bring a radio. 

5. Claustrophobia was one of the most oddly common reasons that people washed out of the Brotherhood of Steel.

10. Machines do not remember. But he does. 

 11. It had been an eventful 24 hours, to say the least. Much of it still felt surreal, like he had never quite woken up from dreaming. But if this was a dream, it was the best Danse had ever had.

Slightly Crusty Older Stuff: 

Soul Calibur

(YES REALLY OKAY)

Ache (SC4, Maxi realizing the gravity of having an evil sword shard shoved into him. Light one-sided Maxi/Kilik) 

It was disturbing, discovering patches that covered up things you didn’t even realize were missing. 

Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective

Try, Try Again (Yomiel discovers his immortality via extremely dark dry comedy. Gen, TW: suicide, supernaturally unsuccessful suicide attempts)

He'd lost track of the time as he knelt there on the floor beside the sofa. It could have been minutes, hours, or even days. Her hand had long since gone cold in his, and he could feel her body getting stiff in his arms.

Ace Attorney

The Last Drop   (Diego wakes up from his coma and begins his angsty evolution into Godot. Background Diego/Mia.) 

Perhaps it all would never have happened if Julian Dorn, in Room 302 of the Caduceus Trauma Center Neurology Ward, had not complained of a stomachache.

The Best Part of Waking Up  (A kinkmeme fill, Adrian Andrews runs into Godot and they go out for friendly coffee and a chat. Gen.) 

The courthouse was such a divisive place to her now. On one hand, it represented the lowest, darkest time of Adrian’s life. Sitting in that defendant’s seat while the world came crashing down around her… it was like a waking nightmare and she still got chills when she remembered it.

Red Eye (Another kinkmeme fill, Godot visits the prison and kicks the living shit out of Redd White.) 

“Mr. White?”

Redd could barely hear the warden’s voice over the roaring in his head—the ringing in his ears and what he swore was the sound of his pulse throbbing through bruises and heavily bleeding gashes in his formerly perfectimous face.

EVEN OLDER, EVEN CRUSTIER, but included for AO3 completion.............

Kingdom Hearts

Those Lacking Spines  (Xaldin, Vexen, and Lexaeus save the world and endure terrible fanfic tropes in an extremely goofy parody written circa 2006. Gen. EXTREMELY OLD.) 

1.  There was nothing to do in The World That Never Was.

6.  Somewhere across the universe, very far away from where the G.S. Existentialist drifted lazily through space, somewhere all the way past chapter nine, there was a shadowy figure perched at the loft window on the very top floor of a tall, dark skyscraper.

9.  When we last left our heroes at the suspenseful, cliffhanger ending to chapter eight, they had just been swept over by an evil wave of darkness that would, according to the laws of the world, sweep over them and transform their every happy, angry, annoyed or ambivalent feeling into Evangelion ™ Brand 100% Pure Angst, No Artificial Colors.

12.  There is really no comfortable way for the author to relay the climactic events of the previous chapter to you before she embarks on this, the penultimate episode of the epic quest of Xaldin, Vexen and Lexaeus and their battles against all that is confusing and mentally-scarring.

13.  As Xaldin lay there, immobile and stunned on the cold floor of who even knew where, shards of glass sticking painfully out of various parts of his backside, he tried to remind himself that days like this had to happen every so often to keep you humble.

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

THOUGHTS: 

I do love to open on a joke.

Vivid, easily identifiable character dialogue (like Travis in STCFW) is also a good start.

Never underestimate the power of just doing a moody description of the weather. 

Otherwise, it seems like I tend to start with a plainly stated idea and then explain it somewhat before connecting it back to the characters’ present situation. 

I can’t pick a favorite really... they are all my flawed children. 

Tagging anyone who’d like to participate. <3 

oh god please dont judge my crusty old stuff PLEASE PLEASE PLS

[thefivenights]

corpse, business man, and mother dearest?

i put it under a cut bc william is doing that blood tear thing again and i warn to read the tags because i dont just do those willy nilly and if i missed one please tell me so i can add it on!

Inspiration: I'm gonna be honest I have no idea

Micheal was a product of a drunken night between Jennifer and William and the direct cause to their marriage. Takes more after his mother in attitude and most of his looks.

While he had a somewhat better relationship with his father than William did with his own, he didn't have a healthy one. He craved any sort of attention or praise from his dad and soon resorted to bullying his siblings to get some form of attention. He never got any regardless and was told to 'try harder' and he'll be rewarded.

This bullying stopped after he shoved his brother into Fredbear's mouth and got suspended from school due to a nasty fight. This was partially due to being traumatized and also William allowing him to help out with his projects (aka Jen told him to and the couch wasn't comfortable)

He gained a talent for robotics and was even the one who made BonBon for Funtime Freddy

He had no idea until the events of Sister Location that the robots were made to kill, or that his sister was killed by Circus Baby. He genuinely thought that Elizabeth just ran away again.

Moved away from the house after his mom said William wasn't coming home again. Part of him was relieved.

Went to therapy and finally realized that his dad sucked and he can break this toxicity that seems to curse the guys in his family (well, most of them)

Got healthy male role models in the form of Henry and his Uncle and made some friends in the neighborhood

Curiousity kills the cat when he gets a message from an unknown number recommending a job at Circus Baby's Pizza World that featured some familiar faces (he was overjoyed at seeing bonbon again but not when funtime freddy was also involved)

When he took over the role of Mike Schmidt, it was less a new name and more of the actual Mike Schmidt needed to leave town for safety reasons and Micheal offered to just take his place at the pizzeria so he could focus on skedaddling (win-win)

Was unaware of Springtrap/Scraptrap being his dad until he spoke, and then Henry let Micheal have an extra taser because he refused to do his work without it handy (eventually it was agreed that Micheal would be allowed to have metal bat because he kept breaking his computer with the taser)

Grew close to Henry after the move and working with him made them closer, Micheal got a father figure and Henry got to care for someone again (to the point where they sat next to each other in the final moments)

Returned from the dead to assist other spirits with animatronic ties with the task of moving on, regardless of whether it was because of his father or not. Is assisted by his brother who took the form of Fredbear in what he finds to be the darkest joke Louis has ever made

Inspiration: I always think of the Clown from dbd but that's very loosely related but its a lot of the dbd killers tbh

Was always that kid who had animal skulls in his room, or knew just a little too much about medieval torture methods

Had a horrendous relationship with his father that was physically and mentally abusive

Was more or less raised by his older brother (who isn't that much older mind you) and his doormat of a mother, who he cared for dearly

Has only used a firearm once, and it was to finally rid the house of the monster that hurt everyone inside, he hasn't touched one since

Was forced to move to America by his mother after his brother convinced her that he killed her husband

Was favored by his mother over the elder sibling and was effectively free from punishment

Met Jennifer after she threw her stuffed rabbit his face with enough force that she made his nose bleed, she apologized but wasn't sincere ("He looked at me funny Ma!")

Was a little bit unnerving to be around but still managed to make a few friends when he was younger in the form of Henry, Jennifer, and a kid named Casey who went missing (and before anyone asks no he had no hand in this)

Was obsessed with robotics and made a promise with Henry to make robots when they got older

Learned how to play guitar so he could impress Jen, ended up embarrassing himself and also fell out of a tree. Surprisingly, she found this charming and asked him out (while also laughing)

Got wasted on his 21st birthday and take a wild guess what happened that night

Came up with the concept for Spring Bonnie thanks to Jen's stuffed rabbit and even helped make the springlock suit itself

When asked by Henry why he did what he did (aka murder) he just laughed in his face and started talking about freeing them from the monsters while also referring to himself as one. No one had any idea what he was talking about but managed to escape getting the police called on him. He had no reason other than he knew he could get away with it, figured he might as well play tragic villain to amp up the guilt

Probably should've gotten therapy after the move but never did

Genuinely cared for his children but had an obvious favorite in the form of Elizabeth (who wasn't even his)

Figured ignoring Micheal would keep him from patricide but just made things worse

Figured out quickly after a head count during that party with Circus Baby what happened to his daughter and made off with the animatronic as soon as possible, lying to his family that she ran away again but would turn up eventually

Has never laid a hand on his children but was unaware what total ignorance towards them would lead to

After the Fredbear incident he at least paid more attention to Micheal, if only to prevent the boy from shoving his daughter into another bear mouth

Is an excellent cook and good at drink mixing

Never really got along with his own brother but at least respected him for what he did (including the biggest cover he was ever given)

After Micheal made his intent to bash his dad's animatronic face in clear, he decided that Micheal was no longer a child and free to attack (he did get tased and also bashed with a bat a few times before being dragged to hell)

"I may kill children but at least I respect my son's pronouns"

Inspiration: an older friend of mine

Jennifer was always a rebellious child, and an oddity in her mother's eyes

On that note, the two never saw eye to eye on anything, and clashed daily

Resolved to never become like her mother and succeeded

Had a stuffed rabbit named monster truck that she liked to throw at people (namely the new british kid in the neighborhood who looked at her funny)

Was best friends with a kid named Casey Fitzgerald before they went missing

Chopped her hair off at the age of 15 and basically told her mother to suck on a lemon (but with more swearing)

Generally a delightful little child /j

Raised Micheal in a tiny apartment with her then boyfriend before they got the house they raised Louis and Elizabeth in

Saw the situation Elizabeth was in and pretty much just adopted her on the spot (there was some extra hurdles but they got their daughter in the end)

Was the one who actually raised the Afton children due to William being both busy and inattentive for various reasons

Wasn't perfect in raising her kids but was certainly better than her husband

Took dance lessons when she was younger and encouraged her children's creative behaviors

After Elizabeth "ran away" she found out about William's previous... activities and devised a plan to make sure he wouldn't hurt anyone ever again

She told him what she found but mentioned that she was just disappointed in how careless his plan was in terms of the four main animatronics having his face saved in their systems, meaning it wouldn't be long until the police were at their door

When he returned home from destroying Freddy, she insisted it was better to do it all in one night to prevent suspicion, however this almost gave her plan away when he mentioned it was stupidly lethal. She succeeded when he still went back stating that he was smarter than most people

When he never returned home she told Micheal to pack his things and anything else he wanted to take with him, they were moving to another state so they could have a fresh start. She waited til he was a bit older to explain why William never returned home

Encouraged Micheal to get therapy and tried her best to give him a balanced home life. This became easier when Will's brother decided to step in and help and the duo became good friends (what also helped was that he was a teacher at Micheal's new school)

Warned Micheal to be wary about the new job at the pizza world and when Micheal finally rid himself of Ennard she gave him a place to stay while he figured out what to do about his situation

Helped Henry and Micheal set up the fake pizzeria and even wrote up fake lawsuits and ads

Is still alive after all these years out of pure determination to outlive any form of her ex husband

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Ice box Yandere Shoto ❄️

Chapter One.

Part One

A/N. This is my first try at Yandere writing and i felt like Shoto would be a good fit for it. Thank you for reading! (All parts can be found under the Icebox tag!)

You were watching the news on TV in youre dorm. it was a interview with youre favorite Hero, Shoto. You loved him more than anything, his posters all over the walls and his merch scattered on the desk . You even told yourself that this was the same dorm he used when he went to UA. You wanted to meet him and tell him how much you looked up to him and wanted to be a Hero just like him.

“Is it true you will be in the park later in the day to meet fans?” Asked the reportor.

Shoto turned to the camera with a smile. “Yes, id love to meet all of you , maybe we can get dinner together”

The reportor blushed and so did you. Quickly you turned around going to youre desk picking up a planner . “If.. i leave now i could make it to the park by the time it starts. “. You set the planner down getting up and putting on youre shoes. Quietly you opened the door to not see anyone nearby except for a teacher. Aizawa turned seeing you and waved lazilly.

“Hey, Y/N, going somewhere?”

“Uh.. yeah i wanted to go to the park.”

“Hm.. okay. No using youre quirk unless you really need to.”

“Okay!! Ill be back-“

“Are you going to the Shoto Meet and Greet?”

“Oh yes.. uh i am”

“Y/N, be careful. A lot of people will be at that”

“I will Sensei!”

You hurried past the tired teacher and out the door making youre way to the sidewalk to the park. It was going to take a half hour to get to the park and you could grab a crepe on the way.

You passed a bunch of girls while you walked and overheard them talking about how excited they were to meet Shoto and how they would do anything to get to have dinner with him. They were dressed .. a little revealing and you still had the UA uniform on. Was the uniform a little silly? Was it to much? Should you go back and change clothes? You did not want to miss this oppertunity. .. It should be okay you thought. You saw the crepe stand coming into view now and went over getting in line .

The man in front of you had on a black coat with a matching hat, he was quite tall too. He seemed very laid back when he was ordering. The salesmen handed him the crepe and he turned to leave seeing you. Youre eyes widened when you saw his face , his red and white hair and his blue eye. He smiled at you moving to the side turning back to the salesmen.

“I’ll pay for their order too. “ he put money on the cart . You fumbled youre words trying to explain he did not need to do that but he just smiled handing you the crepe and motioning you to the side. You followed him blindly , unaware of where he was actually leading you. It was near a alleyway when he stopped and turned to you again.

“Thank you!!! I ... i dont know what to say! I admire you so much!!! I want to be just like you! ”

“Oh thats so sweet.. im flattered , whats youre name?”

“Y/N.. heh”

“Oh thats a lovely name.. i like the UA uniform too, what year are you in?”

“Uh.. my third . “ you took a nervouse bite out of the crepe and a small smirk came across Shoto’s face.

“ so tell me about youre quirk, i bet its interesting”

“Oh its uh.. “ you started to feel a little dizzy. You rubbed youre eyes and Shoto gently moved some hair from youre face making youre cheeks flush red.”uh.. its just i can make ice cubes and throw them... “.

Shoto laughed making ice in his hand and holding it to youre face , “thats pretty neat, almost similar to my quirk in a way.”

“Yeah.. heh..” you leaned on the wall looking around , everything was blurry.

“Are you okay Y/N? You seem... tired” he leaned down cupping youre cheek .

“ yes i... i guess i took training to seriously today”

“ oh.. you should not do that Y/N, who do you have for a teacher?”

“Uhm.. Mr.Aizawa.” Youre eyes started to close and youre body was slumping.

Shoto caught you chuckling. “Oh my.. maybe you are tired. Aizawa is a hard teacher, lets get you...home”

You woke up cold, freezing even. The room was a small little bunker it looked like. Nothing was in the room, no windows, no desk, no lamp. The only light was coming from a hanging celing buld swinging slightly . You spotted a vent on the top of a wall but it was to high up to reach.. you rubbed youre head trying to get up, youre legs wobbling and numb. What happened...? You held youreself rubbing youre arms . “I ... where am i? Was i kidnapped? Its cold.. really cold.. calm down.. remember the training..” you went over to a wall rubbing youre hand on it and knocking in various places, nothing sounded hollow to you. It all felt like cement. You turned around spotting a door running to it grabbing the handle trying to open it. The door did not budge at all from youre side.,

“Hello?!? Is anybody out there?!? Ive been kidnapped!!!” You yelled banging on the door. .. No answer. You looked down putting youre hands together to form a large ice cube . “Ughn... please work” You lifted up the ice cube getting ready to hit the door , you heard a click and saw the door open as soon as you were about to hit it . Shoto smiled putting his hand on the ice cube melting it .

“Y/N? What are you doing? You could have hurt youreself.” He stepped in closing the door locking it.

“Shoto!!! I think someone kidnapped me! We have to get out of here!”

Shoto smiled removing his hat and coat letting it fall to the floor , his adjusted his black turtleneck looking around the room. “Well the AC is working”

“ what... i.. Shoto.!!”

He walked past you checking over the room , making sure nothing was damnaged . He looked up at the vent then back at you. You ran over tugging his arm trying to drag him to the door again.

“Y/N? Whats wrong?”

“We have to get out of here!!! We need to contact the Pros! “

“But.. Y/N i am a Pro. “ he smirked down at you stroking youre cheek. “Arent you a fan of mine? Admire me?”

“Yes Shoto! I.. i really like you and think youre really cool. “

“Then what are you aftaid of ?”

“I dont know where i am ! I need to get home.. or the dorms. I need to contact Mr. Aizawa..”

His right side started to show and his smile turned into a scowl. You held yourself taking a step back. The heat from his quirk felt nice but...

“Aizawa.. he never believed in me , told me my fire side was .. monsterous .” He stepped to you . “No one at that damn school believed in me!!!!”

You screamed turning to run only for him to grab youre arm yanking you to him holding you close. Your back to him , he held you securely with one arm. You whined trying to break free , digging youre nails in his arm. He laughed yanking you close and holding his other hand to youre face , a flame sitting in the middle of it.

“Shh... Y/N its okay. Im here. Youre safe here okay? I wont let anyone hurt you Y/N .”

What was going on?!? Was this really Shoto? The Hero you wanted to be like?!? The Hero you admired more than anyone?!?

“Shoto..!!! I dont understand.. please lets get out of here! “

He held his hand closer to youre face quieting you down. He smiled letting the flame go out and hugging you very tightly.

“Its going to be alright okay? Dont you see? Im saving you . Im saving you from UA, that school will only hurt you, and tell you youre quirk is useless.” He squeezed youre struggling body. “ i will keep you safe , youre quirk... is amazing. I’ll help you with it! We could make it even stronger!!!” He squeezed youre arm while he talked , leaving small bruises.

“Dont worry Y/N, everything is going to be okay. Because im here okay?”

You were confused and freezing . Nothing made sense and you were alone with someone who you thought was youre Hero.

Meanwhile in the outside world, Aizawa was waiting outside the dorms. Waiting for his student to return.

[lostnfinding]

i recently learned about rick riordan's writing being stereotype ish and like... not the good stuff i thought it was. now im sad bc there r so many issues with like representation and like i can't really do anything about it :( i feel so useless bc all i can do is educate myself? and idk if i can enjoy any of the books anymore... idk i just feel bad about myself thinking they were good representation. i'd like to talk abt this with my younger sibling but idk how... sorry im really lost rn.

hey... ive been seeing that too, and honestly im also pretty confused. from my point of view, rick did do a few things wrong, but he didnt seem to do them intentionally. im really bad at reading people, so this can be wrong, but from what i can sense, he really tries to be inclusive as much as he can, but him being a white, cis, straight male doesnt really make that his strongest point.

i know he made mistakes, but i personally cant stop enjoying his books. they are one of my "hyperfixations", and they were one of the only things i had when i was going through really tough times... plus, they were what brought me and one of my best friends together... i have a deep connection to those books, and i realize that they arent perfect, but they are a big part of my life that i just cant let go of.

its like harry potter: its been a part of my life since i was 5. my 7th birthday was harry potter themed, and it was all i knew gow to talk about for years (probably between my firsts "hyperfixations" and the one that lasted the longest). i have too much of an emotional connection with those two series to stop enjoying them. jkr is just a terrible person, thats a fact, but that doesnt mean we cant enjoy hp anymore. for me, its heartbreaking everything she does, but i decided just to not support her anymore. i wont buy new book editions, i wont go watch new movies, and i wont buy merch.

sure, rick did a lot of things that arent really nice. but he did open a lot of doors. a little while after i finished the heroes of olympus series, i started questioning my own sexuality, and having nico there was actually pretty helpful. it showed me i wasnt alone. the stereotypes can be (and are) harmful, im not going to mask that, but i honestly dont have that much authority or knowladge to talk about this.

i am part of a few minorities he represented (sexuality and gender minorities, and neurodiverse people) but not all, so its not my place to talk about the other side of things.

i still have to do more reaserch, and if i said anything wrong, i apologize. i tried my best to be as uncontrovesial as possible, and give you my personal expirience on that. various people have various expiriences, and im in no place to talk about those

i wish i had people to tag and help you, but i only follow a couple pjo blogs, so i dont have much stuff.

i really do reccomend you do a deep dive in the fandom and the books, so you can conprehend the situation better, and draw your conclusions and opinions from that

and about talking to your sibling: i would suggest aproaching them with a certain character (piper, for example) and talking to them about who she is and how she was potraid, and also look in the point of view of people in her place (native americans, in this case). you could do that to as many characters as you want. be pacient, depending on your siblings age, they may take a while to understand, but if you explain it properly, after doing your reaserch, they will understand.

im sorry i couldnt help more

[geminijackdaw]

Fanfic Author Asks

Tagged by @bereft-of-frogs​! 

I... have a really hard time being positive about my own writing, but I tried OTL 

Author Name: I’m KiwiMeringue pretty much everywhere! I might change it to this one sometime? But I’ve changed it before and I don’t want to keep like, switching all the time OTL I should probably just have called it like KiwiWrites or something, but the thing about this username is I just thought it was cute and unintentionally led a bunch of people to assume I was from New Zealand which is patently false advertising and very disappointing when it turns out I’m Canadian xD; 

Fandoms you Write for: I’ve got stories published for the MCU, and Naruto!  Uhhh I’m blanking on things I’m famiiliar enough with to write for but there are a bunch? Critical role, the adventure zone, Good omens, netflix she-ra., maybe? Homestuck, but more @mr-alice and I’s fantrolls and kids, who still have a huge place in my heart, more than canon.  

Where you post: I’m kiwimeringue on AO3 and FF.net, and then any like small prompt fills I’d probably leave here, 

Most Popular One-shot: Hands down, it’s Therapy Dog.  In which a young Hatake Kakashi deals with grief, survivor’s guilt, or PTSD by acquiring an irresponsible number of dogs. (Disclaimer: this does not work irl if you’re not a magic dog whisperer with a large property out of town) 

Favourite Story You Wrote:  This is as far as I got and this has been sitting in my drafts for days because I really, really struggle with this. I have a hard time being proud of anything I write. I guess it’s Therapy dog, becuase it’s definitely the one that’s resonated best with people, and probably my best example of “Look, I wrote a fanfic!” without having to qualify it with a bunch of asterisks. 

I have given myself a self-imposed deadline of from October 1st to halloween to finish a prompt that I got from @portraitoftheoddity​ in her discord server, (it’s not SUPER spooky, but it’s tenuously thematically appropriate enough that I’m making it my project for the month xD) if I can pull this off, it will be this one. It should be fun. 

Story You Were Nervous to Post: ALL OF THEM. Time I had some Time Alone (TIHSTA) is like a self-indulgent au of a self indulgent au, and I;m amazed anyone enjoyed it xD It got more of a response that Undying Fidelity (UF), the fic from which is is derived, did, for a while, which surprised me. I sort of what to qualify that I started this before I found the incredible corner of the MCU writer’s fandom that I currently frequent, so uh... this is very much Disney Grandmaster. This is Jeff Goldblum in space. Which is what I’m comfortable writing, but feels really pale and inconsequential in contrast to the horrifically vivid and rich dark carnival of twisted Grandmaster fan content that exists, like welcome to fucking weenie hut Jr’s, population: me. 

How Do You Pick Your Titles: With great difficulty and much waffling! Kintsugi is named for thematic relevance that... I haven’t actually gotten to yet but it’s about to become stupid literal anyone who read version 1.0 knows how I mean this. But the idea of things history, and damage being inextricably linked to them, but that the thing can go on anyway, changed but not ruined, there’s recurring imagery and points of fault lines, places where things have been weakened, but that these are important and necessary. 

I don’t feel like I have to explain Therapy Dog xD it’s about coping with grief... with dogs. 

Undying Fidelity is like, painfully obvious, but it’s what I had started calling it, and it just. stuck. Obviously from Loki’s like... second last line in IW, and Sigyn’s title in the Marvel Comics. I’m kind of wishing I’d chosen something else, because there are definitely other fics with the same title, and it’s the name of a song from the IW soundtrack that is... less than fun. For obvious reason. I mean it’s perfect for what it was used for, but it’s not a “ahhh gonna pop this one on for a listen” kind of piece. I still can’t think of anything better, though we’re kind of in a weird place because I don’t quite have all the cards on the table, yet. On Loki’s end though,I’m hoping that I’ve sufficiently established this like... tenuous vestigial little flicker of affection that he’s been able to more or less ignore, but that simply would not go out, despite how much easier that would have been, that’s been given a little room to breathe now. (I could definitely go on trying to justify this for paragraphs, so I’ll stop now xD). Thematic chapter naming is another thing I love to inflict on myself and I always regret it, though I love it so much when other people do it, ahhh. UF’s chapters are all named after cards of the Major Arcana in the Tarot. I’m going to get to one eventually and you’re all going to see why I did this, and you’re all going to hate me and I deserve it xD 

Time I Had Some Time Alone is the thing that’s repeated at the end of REM’s :”It’s the end of the world as we know it” and does sort of describe our reluctant hero’s state at the beginning xD Thriving in his completely self centered backstabbing Littlefinger party hellscape. (I went off on a huge tangent here that I have removed, I may make it its own post). Anyway, more thematic chapter naming, everything’s based on some apocalyptic or post-apocalyptic story. So 21 Days later (since for Loki it felt like three weeks) instead of 28, and chapter two is now titled “beyond thunderdome” because of course it is. (it was “the man come around” for like, THE ARRIVAL OF DEATH  but that uh... that’s going to be a later chapter now). 

Fic-in-planning stages will be called some variant of “Again, from the Top”? Take it from the top? ugh I’m trying to evoke like... redoing a scene. 

There was also Errant, my NaNoWriMo story from like 2012 or something? xD It was about a bunch of idiots that were basically an RPG party in a shitty High fantasy bullshit setting. So like, as in, “a knight errant” wandering in search of adventure, but also in the sense of like like... they’re a bunch of dumbasses making mistakes. 

Do you Outline: Yes! I definitely need to be more organized about it because my outlines are like these stupid irreverent event sequences that involve me remembering nuance way too well. Like for Kintsugi especially I’m scared I’ll have forgotten important minutia that I didn’t bother including becauyse oh pfft, of course I’ll remember that. And then I ...dont. My initial outlines for UF were an excel spreadsheet with scenes in various tiem periods that I dragged and dropped all over the place xD It was SUPPOSED to be thematically relevant paired scenes, with one part of each chapter being zset in the past and one half on the statesman and it just... did not work out that way. 

How Many of Your Stories are complete: One! And it’s the one-shot! FML!

In-Progress:  Undying Fidelity: Currently working on chapter 10 out of 22 TIHSTA: 2 out of... probably 4+ epilogue? Kintsugi: 13/Mayyybe like 30 something?

Coming Soon: From the Top is in its planning stages~! 

Do You Accept Prompts: Absolutely! I can’t guarantee that a prompt is going to like... spark writing? in me? But I’m always open to the idea. And that doesn’t mean that an idea is bad or anything! Just like, can I, personally, take this idea and run with it somewhere. 

Upcoming Story You’re the Most Excited For: Probably from the top, though I am two chapters out from part of of UF I am reeeeeally looking forward to writing :D 

Tag Five Fanfic Authors to Answer These Questions: I don’t know who’s been tagged already, I’m so bad at this, so uhh~ If you have been already, or if you just don’t feel like it, please disregard this! And if I don’t tag you but you feel like it, go for it!  @teleris-night @malicemanaged @cosmicmewtwo @not-so-terrible and @ramblingredrose 

[anarcho-smarmyism]

God i fucking feel the whole psychiatrists are shit / fuck the medical system vibe. My shrink ignored and downplayed my complaints about antidepressants and kept increasing the dose until i went full on manic state mode. Now i dont trust anyone and im still suffering lmfao

yeah you would not BELIEVE the shit i had to do to get doctors in Texas to take me seriously about any mental disorder that wasn’t either bipolar, anxiety, or depression. people really think that it’s just as simple as “getting up and going to the doctor!!!” but in reality it’s more like: 

(this got WAY long so it’s under a cut lmao) (trigger warning for basically everything you can imagine btw)

fucking read up on the DSM, try to figure out which symptoms you have, go on goddamn tumblr and sort through the tags of various MIs until you find someone who seems like they’re not full of shit (professionally diagnosed or otherwise). try to have conversations with these people about these conditions, and what it’s like to live with them meanwhile a bunch of irrelevant assholes are hounding you trying to “prove” you’re lying for attention or something. go look through forums of people with the Edgy mental illness you think you might have, watch how they talk, try to figure out if that’s what you do, or if maybe you’re just over analyzing, or paranoid, or something.

THEN you gotta make calls and calls and calls trying to get seen by a real doctor in the first goddamn place. the only ones that take medicaid are shitty and obviously mostly aimed at “rehabilitating” addicts, but you take what you can get. meet the doctor and be polite and try to, like, surreptitiously feel out whether you can be honest, or need to heavily edit what you tell them so you don’t end up fucking institutionalized. pretend you’re too stupid to use Google and you’ve never heard of the DSM, try to describe the symptoms you have as honestly as you can without letting on that you’ve done any of your own research. have the motherfucker blow you off and say you can’t possibly have what you think you have because you’re “too nice” or “too self-aware” or because you’re in any way interested in self-improvement that you can’t POSSIBLY have a personality disorder. finally convince him that it’s possible you MIGHT have a cluster B personality disorder, but he won’t diagnose it because of ~the stigma~. get prescribed whatever standard mood stabilizers and anti-anxiety he feels like giving you.

go to see a therapist. the therapist ALSO does not believe you when you say you may be dealing with something worse than “depression and anxiety”. when you talk about why you think you have the thing, she asks a million weird, invasive questions that sound like she thinks you live in a fucking Lifetime movie. she OBVIOUSLY doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but she’s a ~professional~ and you’re not, so you just try your best to get whatever out of it you can. you get very, very little out of it, because she’s trying to treat “depression and anxiety”, and that’s not what you have, and she is not qualified to treat what you have, and you both know it, but you’re poor and can’t afford a doctor who’s qualified. all the doctors keep telling you about the godawful stigma and telling you how you want to “avoid the label”. you try to explain that you don’t give a fuck about the label or the diagnosis, you just want the treatment. they obviously don’t believe you, and obviously think you can’t tell that they don’t believe you.

so you think, fuck it. i’ll do it myself. i’ll talk to people online who have the Edgy mental illness i think i have, i’ll ask for their advice. and they actually have good, practical, helpful advice! they share worksheets and stories and tell you ways to cope. and it’s hard and it sucks at first, but you practice and it gets easier. but if you ever try to talk to people irl about that? you’re full of shit. you’re making it up, you’re too crazy or stupid or young, too female and too poor, to know what you’re talking about. “you gotta go talk to the PROFESSIONALS”, people insist. “you gotta get a DOCTOR to tell you what’s going on.” try all day to convince any of them that the doctors are sometimes full of shit. it won’t work. it will NEVER work. you are too easy to dismiss and Professional Authorities are too easy to believe.

and the people who don’t tell you to have blind faith in The Professional Doctor Authority? they tell you that “it’s all in your head”. they tell you, if you would just Buck Up and Try Harder, the shit would go away. they say everyone gets sad sometimes and if you try to explain you didn’t just “get sad”, they roll their eyes and say you’re dramatic. exaggerating. it’s just How Your Generation Is. entitled and spoiled. oh what, you’ve been dirt poor for the last decade? you actually DIDN’T always have laptops and iphones and wifi and all that shit? oh whatever, that’s a fluke, doesn’t really count, you’re STILL entitled because of your “””generation””””

one day, after you’ve been having panic attacks nigh on constantly and deliriously telling yourself that you’re just imagining it, you’re just MAKING IT UP, eventually realize there’s no way you’re making this up. that you don’t know what you’ll do if you don’t get help soon. someone tells you, if you’re thinking about killing yourself, just call the hotline! they’ll help you! you’re suspicious, but what you’ve been doing isn’t working. so you give it a shot. you call them and tell them what you’re going through. they tell you to go to the ER. you go to the ER, they ask you questions, reassure you that you really do need to be here, then have some fuckin’ cop tell you, very slowly and softly, that he’s gonna walk you across a parking lot to a building where they’re gonna help you. for some reason he jokes about how ugly the walls on the inside are. you do not give a SINGLE fuck about how the walls look, but you’re “a girl” and you’re in texas, so you act like it’s funny. he’s annoying you, but he’s also obviously trying to help. you shouldn’t blame him for not knowing how. he’s a cop, not a doctor.

when you get to the building, you talk to a woman who asks you what’s going on. you tell her the truth, she tells you it’s okay if you need to pace around, then she tells you that you should never go through the ER because that’s a $1000 bill. you’ve never even seen a thousand dollars in cash before. what the fuck? she tells you you’re gonna stay for probably about 3 days, and then they tell you to sit on a bench, in a room by yourself, nothing to occupy yourself with but a fucking TV blaring news about the weather, apparently there’s a big storm somewhere and people are scared. you are hysterically crying and panicking and they leave you there for HOURS. you think maybe you’re in purgatory. you hear doctors in the next room laughing, talking cordially. your mind is devouring itself as you sit there shaking and trying to hold it together through faith and tenacity alone, and this is just another day at work for them.

before they’ll let you in, they strip search you. they count your scars and comment, almost laughing, to one another about how many there are, how neat they are. where you hid them. you try to make conversation and they ignore you. you are not a person, you are a patient. you want to scream at them but you know that will only make things worse, so you grit your teeth and stare into space and try not to react to anything at all. finally they believe you aren’t hiding anything and they walk you into the room with the other “general” patients. the woman says something about how “some of them are quiet and some of them are loud”. she smiles at you and you want to tear her fucking face off but you know she just doesn’t know what to say. there’s nothing to say. so you just nod and go talk to some of the other patients. they’re pretty cool, pretty nice. they try to hug you but they get yelled at for it. touching isn’t allowed.

you dont even realize for a couple hours that you’re still wearing the thin blue hospital clothes they gave you after they strip searched you. you have to go ask one of the nurses to give you your clothes and let you into a room to change. you put on your clothes, feeling slightly more human, but you still have to wear those goddamn socks instead of shoes, because your shoes are too beat up and shitty to wear without the laces. you zone out for a while and at some point, realize that while you were hysterically sobbing and packing some clothes and notebooks and books to take with you (most of which they would confiscate, telling you to go read some boring magazines about babies and dating and flowers and shit), you without realizing it, grabbed your Harley Quinn t shirt. the one where she’s looking at the camera, smirking as two cops are, apparently, about to drag her away for questioning. for some reason this is the funniest thing that has EVER happened to you. you start laughing and you can’t stop, and everyone looks at you like you’re crazy -the patients look concerned, the nurses look smug and knowing.

you eventually get it together. you remember you can’t sleep without the mood stabilizers you’ve been prescribed. you tell the nurses that, tell them you brought the pills with you, should be with your things. they politely blow you off with what is clearly a canned response, saying you’ll be able to talk to a doctor tomorrow. they ask you what your dose was, you say you don’t remember but you think it was 200mg, you tell them your doctors’ name so they can check. they nod understandingly and you think they’re gonna check. (you will later find out that they just took your word for it, and you were WAY off; you were only on 50mg. they gave you 200mg anyway. you later find out how fucking lucky you were that quadrupling your dose didn’t ACTUALLY fucking kill you.) when you eventually give up on sleeping at 4am and drag yourself up to pour some of the shitty hospital coffee they’re serving, the nurses ask you how you slept and act surprised when you say that you didn’t. “oh, you poor thing.” then they ask when’s the last time you ate and when’s the last time you took a shit and blah, blah, blah. you don’t remember most of it.

when you try to talk to any of the nurses about trying to actually TALK to someone about what you’re dealing with, they tell you they “don’t do that here”. they tell you that’s the “outpatient program”. they make you go to group where they hand out these cute little pamphlets with cute little cartoon stereotypes of people in abusive homes, make you all go around and say which one you are. the nurses think you don’t notice them smirking at you, but you do. during group one day, they talk about a man who lost his wife of 50 years and who was smiling and whistling the next day, because when asked if the cup is half empty or half full, he replies "it's a beautiful cup". the girl about your age who came here after a bender for help with her drinking problem thinks that is so profound that when she gets out of here, she goes and gets a tattoo of a cup with that quote. later, you will admire her tattoo and be happy that the story helped her. on the other hand, they also say things like that "every situation can be good". they use the example of the big storms that are currently happening, somewhere in the world: the storm is bad, but look at how people are helping each other! it's a good thing, after all! the other patients smile. you don't; you say, but a lot of people still died. a lot of people still lost their homes. that's bad. it doesn't matter if some people also helped. the nurses glance at each other nervously and double down: no, you have to "find the good" in the situation. they smile at you and tell you patronizingly how very, very smart you are. you know that's not a compliment, and you also know that THEY don't know that it isn't a compliment. you decide to just keep your mouth shut; the other patients seem to be comforted by this crap. who are you to tell them they're wrong? you shut up.

every night, one of the nurses announces that she is a motivational speaker “outside of here” and talks about Jesus and Overcoming Adversity for about twenty minutes. she clearly has been through some real shit in her life, and she also clearly believes she is really, really helping somebody with her Motivational Speeches. you don’t know if anyone else is getting something out of this -other people are often comforted by things that seem completely ridiculous to you- but you suspect they don’t. whatever. good luck getting her to shut up about whatever she’s on about. (you confess to the doctor later that day that you sometimes think about hurting people. that night, the Motivational Speaker talks specifically about ‘wanting to hurt people’. you pay close attention, knowing she thinks she’s helping, but actually just thinking that they were lying their asses off when they said this shit was confidential. you think to yourself that you need to remember that.) at one point she tells a story about a girl who tried to kill herself and failed, ended up paralyzed. the moral of the story, she says, is that “if you try to end your life before God is ready to take you, he may send you back worse off”. you stare at her and wonder, vaguely, how anyone worships the God you worship and talks about Him like that, like he’s some evil tyrant who would paralyze a child because she wanted to end it all, had the audacity to believe her life was her own to do with as she pleases. you are used to other Christians talking about God that way by now.

the main benefit of being in here is that you get actual, real anxiety medications -not the cheap, weak shit that Texas prescribes poor people asking for anxiety medications. that, and you’re in a safe place. well, not completely safe; a man much older and quite a bit taller than you overhears you and another inmate trading sex stories, most of them sapphic. he sits next to the two of you and listens to you talk for about fifteen minutes, then gets up and says something about d*kes being disgusting. you joke about him, but nervously. the other girl tells you “well if he tries anything, i’ll kill him”. you laugh and say thank you, but you know that’s bullshit. if he tries anything, everyone around you will be too late to help you. you think oh, maybe i’ll just avoid him, but the next time you go to get coffee he glares at you like he wishes you were dead, shakes his hand at you limply, and it takes you a second to remember that it’s sign language for “f*ggot”. you flip him off, but then go tell the nurses about it. you’re very careful to specify he didn’t actually threaten you, ‘cause he’s a black man and you don’t want to get him in Real trouble for “threatening” a white girl when he didn’t. the nurses tell you to “remember where you are” and that people in here are sick. you nod and say yeah, it’s probably fine. he probably won’t do anything. he has to sleep in a separate room from you, anyways.

at some point, you’re playing cards with about five other patients. talking and shooting the shit, starting to enjoy yourself. one of the guys who is in here for a suicide attempt keeps making “jokes” where the punchline is that women did something sexual. people keep not laughing and he’s obviously getting frustrated that people laugh at your jokes more than his. he starts talking shit about “sluts” and you try to, politely, reasonably, tell him that it isn’t his business who anyone sleeps with, that so long as nobody is lying or getting hurt, everybody has the right to sleep with whoever they want. he slams his hand on the table and says, “No! It’s disgusting and it needs to be destroyed.” He stalks off, too furious for words. You glance at the other “slut”, the same girl you talked about being gay with, and she agrees. everyone else takes his side, follows him around reassuring him that he totally respects women, and you’re just a crazy bitchy SJW. you know you’re right and you know he’s not just some poor wounded frat boy. you know he’s an actual danger to any woman he’s around. you also know that no one will believe you, so you just try to hold your tongue and not pick fights with him, because it doesn’t matter if you’re right. everyone will take his side. everyone always takes the man’s side.

eventually, 3 days are up. you feel calmer but just as empty and lost as you did before, except now you are approximately $2k in debt. you go to a nearby elementary school’s park, even though it’s overcast and cold, and you sit on a swingset and stare into space. there are a couple of kids there, but you figure so long as you leave them alone it’s okay. you stare into space for a good twenty minutes before you realize you still have that fucking bracelet on, the one with a bar code that they would scan every time they called you up to get your pills. you tear it off viciously, immediately. 

a few minutes later, a woman walks out of her house, across the street, toward you. you watch her curiously. she approaches you and asks you “if you know where to get any bud”. you say sweetly, “i’m sorry, i don’t,” as if you don’t know for a fact that the woman is a cop because you live on this block, and have seen her cruiser, and also what fucking stoner walks up to someone they don’t know and asks for pot in front of 2 children and on a public school’s property? she wasn’t even dressed like a stoner, for fuck’s sake; just a cop’s approximation of what a stoner looks like. jeans and an oversized t-shirt and hoodie. please. was she even trying, or do cops really just think all stoners are complete morons? do you really look like that much of a stoner right now? doesn’t matter, anyways. you knew she was a cop, and you never tell strangers you do anything illegal anyways -not when you remember to watch your mouth, at least.

the outpatient program turns out to be more of the same bullshit. starts at 7am and they make you empty your pockets and stand with your arms out so they can use a metal detector on you and make sure you’re not smuggling anything in. they make you put your knife in your locker, and that annoys you because you always carry your knife with you when you’re not at home, but you know if you say that they’ll think you’re Violent. so you put it up and feel naked and exposed and try to act like everything is fine. try to be civil with people while you’re tired and irritable and everything is so fucking stupid but you never know, right? maybe they do have SOMETHING to teach you. maybe you’re just being full of yourself thinking these people are full of shit. so you make the pain in the ass arrangements for the little bus to come pick you up, dodging questions about whether the car outside your house runs and whether you have a license and whether it would be technically possible for you to drive yourself, even though you don’t have a license still and you know for a fact if you get pulled over for driving without a license it may be years until you can actually get your license.

the ‘group therapy’ in the outpatient program turns out to be mostly about making fucking collages and shit. they hand out pamphlets about Christianity and about how a butterfly can’t become a butterfly if it doesn’t fight its way through its cocoon. one of the days, the woman leading the group will not shut the fuck up about how she “knows” that talking to a different woman in a different room is going to give you all soooooo much anxiety. you want to tell her to fuck off, but you figure she’s just really green, they’re probably using you all to break in the brand-new “therapists”. you smile at her and make nice because she’s obnoxious and dumb but she’s trying. the woman who usually leads the group is obviously annoyed with you; you are too blunt, too aggressive, too confident in yourself, even now, even at rock bottom (except fuck,don’t tell yourself this is rock bottom, don’t say that, because then like clockwork, the rug will be torn from under you and you’ll find a way to sink even lower), for this woman’s comfort. you try AGAIN to tell her what you think you have. she tells you there’s no way you have it because you’re “too self aware”. you irritably explain that you think there is a strong possibility you do have it, and you explain why, and you try very hard not to scream when the most you can get out of her is some empty platitudes about “having self control” and “seeing the other person’s point of view”.

when she leaves the room, the other patients commiserate with you about what a fucking waste of time this is. one of them is mourning the death of her daughter, lost to suicide when she wasn’t even in high school yet, and she went to the office like she was supposed to, and had an argument with the girl working there and annoyed the girl, so the girl claimed that she was “suicidal” even though the patient said she’d been dealing with depression for decades and knew it wasn’t an emergency, and that’s why she was even here. she starts crying in group and you wonder if you should go up and hug her, or that would be overstepping a boundary. you stare helplessly. the woman leading group watches sympathetically for a few seconds, clears her throat, and diverts the conversation back to her lesson plan.

at some point, they call you in to talk to a doctor. there are three people about your age also in the room, writing stuff down on notepads. one of them asks you questions about every possible trauma and hardship you may have gone through. after you admit to each one she says softly, “im sorry that happened to you.” you are grateful to be treated like a human by somebody in the room, even as the doctor himself is clearly bored with this whole schtick. the meeting takes about fifteen minutes; within a few weeks they will send you a bill for several hundred dollars. that’s how much it costs to sit in a room while a doctor ignores you and lets medical students do his job, asking you about the worst things that have ever happened to you, for college credit so they can finish medical school.

they tell you to do “homework” that amounts to writing about your feelings, your worst memories, your deepest secrets. you try to convince yourself that you might actually get something out of this whole shitshow if you just go along, but you can’t stand the idea of letting that fucking woman read anything you write. whatever. you show up every day and say no, you did not do the homework. no, you do not feel guilty about not doing the homework. the woman who leads the group glares at you. you are an incorrigible crazy girl who must not want to get any better, after all. one day they have you all go outside, hold hands, and move a hula hoop around in a circle without letting go of each others’ hands. you make a skeptical face and the lady who leads the group says something about “being resilient enough” to do her stupid little exercise. you want to tell her to go fuck herself, there’s no part of this shit that has anything to do with resilience, but you know better than to argue. you participate and, incidentally, you pass the hula hoop quicker than everyone else did, and then you say “i don’t like to touch people”, because you don’t, and the other patients let go of your hands immediately. the lady who leads the group looks pleased with herself.

on the seventh day you drag yourself up in the morning to go to this stupid outpatient program, they just have you watch Inside Out and then fill out a paper about “what emotions does society tell us to repress”. you go through the motions, go eat the lunch they serve you, and go home, knowing you are not going to bother going to the next day. These people are full of shit. you have to figure this out on your own, as usual. at least you got the higher dose of mood stabilizers you needed, though.

you get a new job, because you quit your old one in a panic. you’re too anxious and pissed off all the time and awkward and unsure of whatever the fuck these people are so mad about when you can’t sit them down immediately or whatever, to be good at customer service, so you just start doing the grunt work. you’re still under the impression that being a hard worker when you first start a new job will help you keep the job; this job will be the one that lets you figure out you don’t actually want to give 100%, because then your coworkers will slack off and when you try to slack off, your boss will be mad at you for not performing the way you usually do. 

it’s almost unbelievably difficult, but you keep showing up to work. you hide the panic attacks and you push through the depression. you smile and play nice even though everybody is full of shit and thinks you’re an idiot and you can’t ever, ever change their mind. you feel like you’re going to explode all the time, but you don’t explode. you don’t die. you don’t relapse. you toe the line and you slowly, slowly learn and improve and heal.

you try to talk to people about it. they won’t believe you. crazy people can’t fix themselves. they can’t reason their way through a problem, they can’t realize their behavior is an issue and take initiative, they can’t. it’s impossible. crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. only the Doctors can be trusted.

whatever. they’re full of shit. you have to figure out your own way to survive, just like always.

[pavlovers]

blossom, blush, breeze, bright, cuddly, daisies, precious, smile, starlight, thimble, wispy

blossom; favorite book/movie/song?

book: for sure the great gatsby! almost every sentence in it is just gorgeous and it’s consistently been a book i feel like i can always come back to and gain something completely new out of it. 

movie: hmm this is a bit hard because i dont watch movies all that often and i even more rarely rewatch movies. but off the top of my head, heathers (1988), my own private idaho (1991), mysterious skin (2004), pan’s labyrinth (2006), and eternal sunshine of the spotless mind (2004) are all insanely good. oh and yesterday i actually did end up rewatching a movie (better off dead (1985)) with my friend and like,,, that movie is so stupid its borderline amazing. and oh of course i cant not mention paddington 2!!! unironically though that movie is so sweet and wonderful  :-)

song: lately tbh i have only been finding myself listening to various neil ciceirega mashups but yeah “rollercloser” (which is a mashup of the ohio players’ love rollercoaster and nin’s closer) is just,, it works too well. who allowed it to be that good?!

blush; what was your stuffed animal as a child?

honestly from what i can remember and the very few anecdotes my parents have told me about my behavior as a small child i dont think there was ever a stuffed animal that i had a really strong bond to. not that i had that many anyways, but i still remember some of the ones i did have. i had a teddy bear with a little red shirt that said “hope” on it, a plush of the bear from bear in the big blue house, and a care bear plush (idk of which one since i never watched the care bears as a child but im p sure it was the pink one?). also idk if it counts but i also had a panda pillowpet.  

breeze; most precious childhood memory?

either playing the game of life with my friends during indoor recess or playing tag with my friends at,, (normal?) recess. elementary school for the most part was alright. 

bright; mermaids or fairies?

while i greatly admire the concept of luring sailors to their death via song, i think im gonna go with fairies. being tiny, having wings, living in the woods and causing mischief sounds v rad to me. 

cuddly; what’s your favorite time period?

musically & aesthetically im gonna go with late 70s/early 80s. fashion-wise ill say the late 60s/most of the 19th century (referring to men’s fashion of course). 

daisies; describe a moment when you felt free.

3 days ago when i was at an orchard w my dad snatching up as many ripe peaches as we could from this peach grove even though the orchard specifically said that they were only selling blueberries and raspberries for the time being. it was just 5-10 min of my grubby little hands going ham. the cashier was very nice about it though and let us buy the peaches. 

precious; what is something valuable that you learned in your life?

that i owe a lot more to myself than i do to others. and that receiving assistance from others is ok! and essential sometimes. 

smile; what is one thing that has greatly affected you?

this might be a very obvious answer but well, the internet. i mean it’s shaped my tastes in art/entertainment, my politics (for the most part), my views on myself and my mental illness, and countless more aspects of my personality. its probably the single most formative part of my life (as im sure it is for most people nowadays) besides yknow my family life. and school. 

starlight; what was your favourite show as a child?

kim possible, wizards of waverly place, danny phantom, the emperor’s new school, etc. 

thimble; is there somebody you look up to? who are they?

theres some aspects of my dad that i really admire. hes definitely not perfect but he really is hardworking and motivated when it comes to his career and completing adult responsibilities in general. and hes also great at talking me down and explaining things to me in a calm, rational manner whenever i happen to get terribly anxious about anything. my friend grace, even though she’s a year younger than me, is also just,, a huge blessing. she’s a big idealist and amazing at so many things??? (writing, drawing, straight As, soccer, violin & piano). and shes also so empathetic and has the biggest heart, and has given me so many pep talks whenever i happen to be freaking out about anything school-related. 

wispy; do you like the place where you grew up? do you think you will live there when you get older?

i am perhaps biased because my childhood was and has not been the best but yeah i am not my hometown’s biggest fan. its most likely due to the fact that most people who live in my town are quite old and as a result there’s not a lot of spots for people my age to like,, hang out/meet up at, or really that many places where you can just enjoy yourself, so i dont really go out all that much. and personally i find living in such a sprawling suburb where its basically impossible to go anywhere without a car to be kinda suffocating. so yeah im not planning on staying here for long, but mostly because i feel that i badly need the fresh start. 

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Heya purge! I saw in one of your tags that you’d been consuming fic for around 20 years! That’s like my whole life. Mind telling us how things have changed? I’m sure places like ao3 have changed things a lot. I’m just really curious in fandom and fanfic culture! :3 x

Ao3 is a fucking godsend let me tell you. I won’t make a lot of the same points and stuff that fannish history folks have already documented (how it literally changed, and all the fic we’ve lost that isn’t backed up on floppy disk somewhere… I’d say we’ve lost an equivalent to the digital burning of alexandria honestly) but i can tell you my experience :3

I’ll stick it under a cut cuz i kind of rambled… but i had fun doing so ahahha xD sorry you unleashed the tiger from the cage xD

We all make jokes about ‘being there’ when stuff in fandom history happened, but i’ve been around since all the major purges (LOL my name is so fitting in retrospect ahahha). ff.net’s various purges (and the whole anne rice suing fanfic writers and shit… i never DID agree to their new terms of service haha), geocities sites going down, obviously the more recent shit too, but like I’ve been around even for the creations of certain, older fanfic sites too (one of the oldest slash forums for lord of the rings fics for example… I was there, Gandalf LOLOL!!… and now that i check the date on that i feel old as balls thanks anon xDDD and wow my one fic is still up there PFFFFT) but like, I come from an era where you took your floppy disk and copy/pasted shit from online (once it even loaded) for later reading, and also so you could find it again, because also before ff.net it was hard to find stuff. I’m pre-google ya’ll xD You dont UNDERSTAND the horrors of trying to find anything pre-google. Ya’ll have it so fucking good D:

There was never an abundance of content like there is today, and so you can bet your shit we were grateful as fuck for what was out there, let alone for someone with a decent command of writing and storytelling. Everyone commented on everything (once that was something even implemented… it was email lists before that, and comments sent in that way… i still have my e-mailed comments from fic readers haha), and it was (and still is, in my honest opinion because people entitled as FUCK now) one of the GREATEST faux paus you could do to be reading a fic (esp. multi-chaptered) and not comment. The indignity of not giving back a little (and it still is a little, which is why i get so damn fired up on this subject) for aaaaaaaall the words and story and everything you just read was a serious sin against fanfic writers. I still think its seriously fucked up not to comment (and again, i’ve mentioned that if you dont got the spoons, thats obviously different) but like, the entitlement that runs rampant today did not even exist back then. Yeah, you still had the assholes whose comment would literally consist only of “where’s the rest?” with ZERO actual thanks or input while expecting/thinking they deserve more (and THEN you could remove chapters or stories, cuz god giveth and damn does she taketh away xD), but it wasn’t nearly as prolific as it is today.

The commenting culture today and the backlash against writers wanting comments on their work in return for providing said free content makes me mad enough to wanna curb stomp some people. I’m a bartender, I don’t put up with shit HAHA xD But the entitlement especially now and people who act like writers are being uppity for wanting a small return on their craft are disgusting. Same type of entitlement as art thieves (we all know the type). We didn’t put up with that shit back then. People acting like little bitches wanting free stuff for literally nothing? We’d pull the whole fic. And the community would handle it and it usually turned into a teaching moment about how damn important it is to comment and just how much freaking control writers DO have over their media. We’d pull it from public view unless amends were made (whether that be a private note from someone entitled finally paying their fucking due with proper humility, or reaching a comment count when you had hundreds of people reading but not commenting). Damn i miss taking away fic xD We played hardball back then xD

That was the fucking worst and people were rightfully denied access to fic if hits didn’t coincide with comments. You could publish a chapter and then decide to remove it from view (either for editing, or hostage taking for comments…. which i miss dearly AHAHAH it forced people to learn to be proper commenters and interact with those whose media they were consuming). It’s a big part of what I miss because just like a proper community, people kept each other in check and made sure everyone played nice. You enjoyed a fic? You sure as hell let that writer know. Now though…. the entitlement drives me up the fucking absolute walls and makes me wanna put stuff behind a paywall sometimes…. everyone is lucky im lazy as shit tho AHAHAH and im usually fine after venting xD

But yeah, fanfic culture in general has shifted in a major way to constantly consume and NEVER give back, either in comments, or creating new content yourself to also add to the community (for example as i’m sure we’re all aware, like ALL the people who bitch about certain ships or ‘why ship this when you can ship THIS?’…. Like, instead of bitching that ‘WAH WAH this author doesnt WRITE the ship I LIKE why can’t they write THAT??’ people came up with the radical idea of CREATING the content they wanted to see :| And if weren’t that good of a writer/artist to do so? Well then you SUPPORTED the writers/artists you enjoyed by leaving comments on their shit OR getting a commission… Goddamn i remember when even ‘commissioning’ people was a wild concept… Ya’ll dont know ahahah xD

I do believe that this is a huge source of where Anti-shipper behavior has stemmed from; entitlement gone berserk. And public schools and shit are still largely full of my parents’ generation who were not computer-literate either in function or courtesy, so even as internet social skills are not being taught correctly (or safety; they scared the SHIT out of us back in the day and now everyone has all their shit and pictures online haha) so there’s also a huge disconnect socially which i think has impacted online fandom spaces and what is considered acceptable or not. People also turn into fucking swine when they think they’re anonymous online (and boy do they change their tune fucking quickly when you out them) and i think the whole anonymity thing is also a factor of this whole entitlement issue in fandom spaces; making demands without giving ANYTHING back. Like I’ve mentioned in the past, I don’t put up with that shit, and it’s not a coincidence I was going to work for the CIA after I just left Japan about 3yrs back (thank fuck I didn’t cuz FUUUUCK this administration) cuz people are dumb as shit and basic tracking skills to call someone out on their bullshit has been my bread and butter since i was like 12 haha. You act dishonest and entitled, and it’s gonna come back to you in some shape or form. You’re going to reap what you sow. That was the motto back then and I still believe in it today.

Hell, it has shocked the FUCK out of me the few times i’ve had people tell me ‘omg me and my friend were talking about your latest update!’ and i’m just like O_O????? because also back in the day, ‘fanfiction’ was kind of a taboo word. You never said you were into fanfic in mixed company. You more or less NEVER discussed it publicly (I’m not even talking dirty stuff, just normal, sfw fanfiction) because it primarily existed only online (for me; i’m post-fan magazines but pre-internet fanfic sites LOLOL). Hell, I got my college english professor into fanfiction. She didn’t even know what it was, let alone that something like that existed, and I had to explain it to her my first year of college kind of with a red face xD She was a writing-professor too so like, let that date the culture a bit. Like, if that was literally her major field of expertise and she didn’t know about it, that should tell you how not-mainstream fanfic was.

I’m kind of out of touch with that myself. Do kids (ya’ll are kids to me okay? xD) mention fanfiction as a reading/entertainment medium in normal conversation? Like, you could mention, without getting weird looks, ‘oh i enjoy reading fanfiction’ or (and i’m like internally gasping at the idea here) being able to say ‘yeah i enjoy writing fanfiction’? Is that a thing? I sure as hell don’t tell my peers that I write fanfic, let alone that i’m approaching 1million words for borderlands stuff alone AHAHAH It’s STILL taboo and seen as a lesser writing medium to folks my age. If you weren’t in a ‘geek’ circle (and i mean, i had friends who played D&D at lunch, and one friend who we mentioned fanfic together with) then culturally, as an art form, it wasn’t acceptable to discuss. Like, i’m STILL in that mindset that fanfic is not something to be discussed off the internet with people and it makes me very very uncomfortable to do so unless i know 100% I can speak discretely with someone. That’s what the offline culture was. I know its way different in some respects, like me and my youngest sister are 10yrs apart and her experiences with fandom are wildly different, but the idea of people actually talking about someone’s fic together with friends absolutely blows my fucking mind.

So, it’s changed in good ways too xD I just fucking HATE people who think they’re entitled to never comment or give back to the community sooooo i tend to get stuck on that issue, ESPECIALLY, again, as a writer approaching 1million words. *salute* doing my duty to the fandom community LOLOL or polluting the fandom community if you’re an anti AHAHAH antis can suck my entire ass and i’ll go on to put another million words of what they HATE into the world and they cant stop me ;3 spite is a fabulous motivator xD

The tools back then were a lot more crude, abilities and functionality was limited (but also better in some ways; moving fic to the ‘backroom’ so to speak), and even finding stuff was hard and relied on the hushed whispers of friends, but damn the community was better. So much better. So much more positive and accountability made people decent. So like, I do LOVE a lot of what we have now, but we have lost SO much. Both in terms of content and sense of community. I wish people would put more positivity into the content they’re consuming and lift up others. It’s why i try my damnedest to leave commenting tags on EVERY SINGLE THING i ever reblog here, because i *know* firsthand how much it means. To scream your art into the silence and only get the equivalent of stares back is maddening.

So yeah. Stuff has changed. Capitalism and censorship are running especially rampant hand-in-hand right now, and lord forbid we come full circle where there are no more places for us. I mean, if we have to go back to email lists, hell I’m already ready and an old veteran to that system anyhow. I’d miss all the content we all have access to…. but then there’s also that 90% commenting rate you get with that kind of system so HEEEEEY let it all fall down! bahahah xD

[dcsidcrium]

FULL NAME.  nikki eryl faden MEANING. ‘victory of the people’ ‘watcher/lookout/hunt’ ‘yarn/thread’ NICKNAME. nik, and various forms of ‘shithead’ and dog puns GENDER.  female HEIGHT.  5′1′‘ AGE.  25 ZODIAC. gemini SPOKEN LANGUAGES.  english, beast speak (how she explains speaking to animals tbh), and a couple others that are completely verse dependent 

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOUR. dark brown with just the slightest hint of red EYE COLOUR.  dark blue SKIN TONE. tanned BODY TYPE. can dip into the underweight category.  typically well toned/muscled and petite.  got some curve to her thanks to her bone structure ACCENT. she’s got a slight twang, but not much VOICE. fairly feminine.  Enough so that it’s...comical to hear how crudely she talks and the things that spew from her mouth tbh

DOMINANT HAND.  right. POSTURE.  she actually???  has really good posture??? stands up straight with her shoulders back and shit.  mostly to try and make herself appear bigger/taller.  Known to slouch at home and at the bar though SCARS. SO MANY.  See here for a detailed list, and here for a visual TATTOOS. a hawk in flight across her upper back, a black wolf and a snow leopard on her right outer thigh, a quote on each side of her ribs MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). pointed ears, enlarged canines, one of her many scars that is most likely showing from beneath her clothes

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH. a tiny ass village in the middle of a forest i havent named in the 6 years ive had nikki’s blogs lmao HOMETOWN.  ^^ see above BIRTH WEIGHT.  average BIRTH HEIGHT.  average MANNER OF BIRTH. home birth.  Camira had her natural at home with doctors FIRST WORDS.  ..dada dont @ me SIBLINGS. one younger sister, Dani PARENTS.   Camira (mother, deceased), Aaryan (father, absent since she was 2) PARENT INVOLVEMENT. Camira was very hands on and very loving and just THE BEST FUCKING MOM OKAY.  Aaryan is a piece of shit and bailed before Dani was even a year old.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION.  Works at a wildlife rehabilitation center as a caretaker.  Petty theft/crimes/swindling people out of their money in any verse she hasn’t settled in.  Bartending in some verese. CURRENT RESIDENCE.  Verse dependent, and flexible for thread purposes.  Typically, a small, woody area outside a larger city.  Oklahoma, USA in her main verse CLOSE FRIENDS.   Main verse, not counting rp’s?  Duke and Ryker, her two beta wolves.  She has a few casual friends in some coworkers, but she tends to stray away from forming deep bonds for fear she’ll have to uproot everything again. RELATIONSHIP STATUS.   multiverse/ship so singe by default.  Fairly avoidant, mostly for the above reasons, and well, her last relationship turned out fantastic, didn’t it? FINANCIAL STATUS.   definitely the lower end of the spectrum.  Not quite paycheck to paycheck, but close to it. DRIVER’S LICENSE.   It’s a really, well made fake.  Being born in a secluded village of shapeshfiters that isolated themselves from humans kind of means that there’s...no paperwork on her.  Any legal documents are well crafted fakes. CRIMINAL RECORD.   A mile long, honestly.  She’s been arrested a fair amount of times, and being broke and having no one to post bail, she’s broken herself free just as many times.  Though she’s not caught very often any more, she’s got record of breaking and entering, assaulting an officer, petty theft VICES.    Alcohol and sex mainly.  Whatever gives her that brief numb feeling or makes her feel anything other than guilt

𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION.   heterosexual-ish?  idk i have a long winded answer about this somewhere ROMANTIC ORIENTATION.  panromantic

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.  to not have them.  one night stands.  running at the first sign of deep feelings on her end or the others.  if she thinks its just an infatuation, she’ll stick around, assuming that it will go away.  THAT BEING SAID, she’s very keen on when people want to sleep with her but not when people actually want to date her.  She doesn’t pick up on romantic interest very well at all, but can easily distinguish the difference between romantic and sexual attraction

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. Weapon by Grant HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.   Anything outdoors, especially running or hiking.  She likes to read as well, and enjoys photography. MENTAL ILLNESSES.  depression, ptsd PHYSICAL ILLNESSES.  none LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. right brain

PHOBIAS. fire, snakes, abandonment/betrayal

SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.  this is a tough one??  Nikki is very confident and cocky about a lot of things, but if you ask her about what she thinks of herself as a person in general her view of herself is very, very low.  Nikki absolutely loathes herself. VULNERABILITIES.  she has a hard time trusting people, but she’s so fucking lonely and touch starved, she craves being around people and being touched.  fire is a HUGE vulnerability.  she often forgets to take care of herself and has insomnia.  she can and will pass out from exhaustion.  low impulse/self control and can be easily manipulated once you know how to push her buttons

TAGGED BY: i stole it from icesuffice

TAGGING: steal it and tag me

[dr-gloom]

Recover

Part 7!!!

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 8  Part 9

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairings: Past Reman (Roman/Remy), Past Anxceit

Summary:  Virgil goes over to Roman's to watch some movies. He's been feeling great lately, and wants to just have a relaxing day with his friend away from the apartment. Nothing bad could possibly happen, right?

Tags/Warnings: mentioned rape, Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of Emotional Abuse, Mentions of psychological abuse, PTSD, Panic Attack, description of rape 

Read it on AO3

fic masterlist

like what I do? buy me a coffee or GoFundMe

Virgil glances down at his phone as it buzzes with an incoming text. He grins when he sees Roman’s name and unlocks the phone, reading the text.

Wanna come over and watch movies, JD-Lightful? :D

Virgil rolls his eyes and texts back.

sure dude, as long as you dont pick any more dumb musicals this time

D:< NEWSIES IS A CLASSIC

actually pretty sure to be a classic it has to be old

and good

HOW DARE just get your emo butt over here, i miss you </3

Virgil laughs, typing out his reply and sending it before rolling out of bed to get ready.

relax romeo

im getting ready, be there in 20

Virgil’s phone buzzes again, but he ignores it in favor of pulling his torn black jeans over his hips and tying the laces of his black boots. It’s probably just Roman letting him know he read the text, anyways. He throws his hoodie on and pockets his phone and wallet, exiting his room.

He walks through the apartment, spotting Patton and Logan on the couch and waving to them. “Heading over to Roman’s, I’ll be back later.”

Patton turns to look at him, smiling. “Okay kiddo! You gonna be home in time for dinner?”

Virgil shrugs. “I dunno. I’ll text you if not, ‘kay?”

Patton nods and goes back to watching the movie. Logan waves goodbye to him before watching the movie as well, and the front door shuts.

Virgil trots down the stairs, turning on the sidewalk to head towards Roman’s place. He actually doesn’t live that far from the park that Virgil likes to visit, so he won’t be walking for long. As he passes the park, he looks around at the various families and health-nuts dotting the playground and trails. He smiles lightly. It’s been such a good few months, despite some minor hiccups, and this is probably the best he’s felt since he left Dee. He still gets nightmares, and he still has panic attacks, but thanks to the support he has they’re becoming more of a rarity.

He passes the park and keeps walking until he makes it to an apartment complex that’s admittedly more high-end than the one he and Patton live in. He checks his phone to make sure he remembers the apartment number and climbs the steps once he finds the right building, knocking hesitantly. The door bursts open almost instantly to show an excited Roman in a white shirt and red flannel pajama bottoms. Virgil laughs.

“Dude, it’s like, almost noon.”

Roman steps aside to let him in, grinning. “So? This is my apartment, I do what I want.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Sure, okay.” He plops down on the couch and grins at Roman as he sits down next to him. “So what’re we watchin’?” Roman shrugs and grabs his remote, switching the TV to Netflix. “What do you feel like watching?”

Virgil groans and flops onto his side, his head in Roman’s lap. Roman runs his fingers through Virgil’s purple locks. “Why would you ask that? Now we’ll never pick a movie. We’re stuck in the ‘I don’t know, what do you wanna watch’ loop. You know I hate loops.”

Roman laughs. “Fine, how about The Little Mermaid?”

Virgil nods. “Sounds good.”

Roman puts the movie on and sets the remote aside, still running his fingers through Virgil’s hair as the movie starts. Virgil doesn’t bother telling him to stop or sitting up; he likes this, and he doesn’t get enough physical contact, in his humble opinion. He always feels awkward asking Patton for hugs, and he’s seemed kind of busy anyways. The two men watch the movie in relative silence, if you don’t include Roman singing along quietly. It’s nice to just spend time relaxing like this, not worrying, not stressing, no intrusive thoughts of the past or anxieties.

After the movie’s over, Roman gets up to make them some popcorn. He comes back to find that Virgil is still laying down, effectively in Roman’s spot, and rests the popcorn bowl on Virgil’s pelvis in retaliation. Virgil huffs and sits up, holding the bowl, and goes right back to laying in Roman’s lap once he’s seated. Roman puts on Pocahontas, relaxing back into his couch and grabbing a handful of popcorn as it starts. “And for the record I’m not playing the second movie after this. It’s contrived romance-forcing garbage.”

Virgil looks up with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Wow, I never thought I’d ever hear you say something negative about Disney.”

Roman huffs. “The sequel is horrible! They could have left well enough alone, but they just had to continue it and have Pocahontas fall for another man. It’s PocaSmith erasure!”

“...Poca...Smith…?”

“Shut up, it’s their ship name.”

Virgil laughs. “Whatever you say.”

Virgil is so relaxed by the time Pocahontas is over that he doesn’t realize which movie Roman chose afterwards until the music starts. Oh no. Oh, shit.

Beauty and the Beast.

Virgil took a deep breath. It was okay. It was fine. He just…. Had to keep calm. Yeah. He couldn’t tell Roman to change the movie; he’d ask why, and Virgil would have to tell him the truth because he’s such a bad liar, and then Roman would pity him, or be disgusted by him, or hate him for ruining Disney, or-.

Okay, no, that is not how you stay calm, Virgil. Deep breaths.

Roman lightly scratches at Virgil’s scalp. He can’t tell what’s going on in Virgil’s head, but he can sense how tense Virgil is and knows Virgil might need something grounding to focus on. Virgil would thank him if being grounded didn’t mean having to focus on the movie.

Belle walked down the path from her house into the village, singing the beginning song. His breathing picked up just slightly with the pacing of the song. He can do this. Concentrate. Breathe. Gaston is introduced, and Virgil feels like he’s going to be sick. He can feel the ghost of lips on his shoulder and neck. He rubs them roughly to chase off the feeling.

“Virgil? Are you okay?”

Virgil nods, forcing his voice past his lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Roman doesn’t look like he believes him, but he drops it.

Philip and Belle’s father enter the woods, and Virgil’s breathing starts to pick up again. He feels like he’s back on that couch with Dee, sitting quietly as the other bites and sucks marks into his neck. He sits up, the feeling of Roman’s leg against his cheek making him nauseous.

“Virgil?”

Virgil shakes his head. Belle starts singing. He can’t breathe. Roman says something, but he doesn’t hear it. All he can hear is Dee questioning him. “Are you saying you don’t love me, Virgil? That you don’t think I’m attractive?” Virgil whimpers and curls in on himself, clamping his hands over his ears and tucking his head between his knees.

“Virgil!”

Virgil lets out a choked-off scream, the sound absolutely pitiful and completely heartbreaking. The ghost of Dee’s hands on him, in him, is suffocating him, stealing his breath and making his thoughts spiral. Hands on him make him scream and he scrambles off the couch, his head smacking into the coffee table in his struggle. He distantly hears his name being called, but all he’s focused on is getting away, getting somewhere safe, getting away from Dee. His back presses into a corner and he curls in on himself again.

The noise from the TV stops, and soft footsteps shuffle closer. Virgil grips and pulls at his hair, scratches his neck and shoulders and arms, trying to chase off the ghost of Dee’s touch. Someone - Roman, Virgil’s foggy mind supplies - takes his hands to keep him from doing any more damage to himself.

“Virgil, you need to breathe. Come on, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight.” He leads Virgil through the exercise a few times until he’s breathing normally, though he’s still curled up in the corner. Roman frowns in concern, running his thumbs over Virgil’s knuckles. “Wanna talk about it?” Virgil has a far-off look in his eyes, but he blinks a few times and it goes away. He nods, glancing down at his lap.

“I uh… I don’t like Beauty and the Beast.”

Roman raises an eyebrow slightly. “Well I kind of got that… but why?”

Virgil’s face pinches, and Roman squeezes his hands reassuringly. Virgil takes a deep breath and starts explaining.

He explains how, a couple months before they met, he’d been watching Beauty and the Beast with Dee. He tells Roman that he’d tried his hardest to be good, and Dee rewarded him by putting on his favorite movie. His voice starts to waver as he describes how Dee used the movie to distract Virgil, pushing his boundaries until Virgil had to say something. He closes his eyes and tells Roman how Dee had questioned his love and pressured him into sex, how he hadn’t wanted it but he’d been terrified that Dee would beat him, or leave him. He cries as he tells Roman how Dee had gone in dry, how much it hurt, how Dee had ruined Be Our Guest and walked away when he was done.

Roman holds his arms open in a question, and Virgil hugs his friend tightly. Roman runs a hand through Virgil’s hair as he calms himself down again. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Virge…. Why didn’t you say something sooner? I would have changed the movie.”

Virgil whines. “I didn’t want you to…. Be disgusted, or… or think less of me.” Roman’s frown deepens and he sighs, sitting back on the heels of his hands.

“I told you about Remy, right?”

Virgil nods. “Yeah, a little. You told me he was… kind of like Dee.”

Roman nods.

“I met Remy back in my freshman year of college. He was loud, sassy, impulsive, had a horrible sense of direction, and was easily the most flamboyant person I’ve ever met. We hit it off instantly at a college frat party and our romance, as they say, was hot and heavy. We had more… physical chemistry than emotional, I think. Before I knew what was happening he was pressuring me into skipping classes to have sex, getting me drunk so I wouldn’t ‘harsh his mood’ and leave, dragging me to parties when I should have been studying or doing homework. I failed all my classes that semester, and had to retake everything. I was so mad at him, but I didn’t break it off.”

Virgil’s eyebrows were furrowed, looking angry and confused. “Why?”

Roman shakes his head, shrugging. “I’m not completely sure. I think, at the time, I told myself we could do better, that we could talk through our problems. I thought I loved him.

“As expected, things only got worse. I dropped out my third year because I was still struggling through classes. I tried to talk to Remy about all the partying, about being more responsible, getting a job since I wasn’t in college anymore. He didn’t really like that. He said if I got a job he’d never see me.”

Virgil flinches slightly at the familiar words.

“He started saying things that would make me doubt myself. I questioned every decision I made, from the outfits I wore to the food I cooked - Remy would always comment that I was getting fat. I started hating myself, hating how I looked, how I acted. I needed Remy to validate me, like I needed air. And when he would get mad at me and say something that didn’t even sound like an insult but it just had this tone and you knew you did something - I never hated myself more.”

Virgil chews on his lip, looking down at his hands. “So then…. How’d you leave him? I know that’s- I know it can be hard…”

Roman nods. “Actually, I was pretty lucky. He broke up with me.”

Virgil looks up, surprised. “Seriously?”

Roman nods again. “He said he was tired of how clingy I’d become. Found someone who was more self-assured, whatever he meant by that. I’m not sure. But! That was the end. It took… a while, but I recovered. And you’ll recover, too. I promise.”

Virgil smiles weakly. “Thanks, Ro.”

Roman stands, offering his hand to Virgil. “Of course. What do you want to watch?”

Virgil thinks as they walk back over to the couch and sit, Virgil leaning into Roman’s side a bit. “Moana?”

Roman smiles, wrapping an arm around Virgil. “Perfect.”

A/N: if I missed any tags/warnings, please message me!

love you kiddos, stay safe! <3

Taglist:  @hungry-red-panda @neonb-fly @chemically-imbalanced-romance @punsterterry @unbefuckinglieveable @metaphoricalpluto2 @bunny222 @a-fander-named-skittles

[psyched2b]

All My Heroes - Chapter Two (Steve Rogers x OFC)

Warnings: None

Author’s Note will be at the end of this chapter.

Feedback is appreciated and welcomed!

*Moodboard created by the lovely @shreddedparchment

*gif pulled from GIPHY. Tried finding OP, but link was broken! UGH

“Pardon the lack of…everything,” Cece called over her shoulder to the two men following her into the temporary home. “We’ve only been here,” she paused, trying to remember. She looked to Michael, “Six days?” It came out as more of a question.

Her brother rolled his eyes at her memory. “It’s been twenty-two days,” he corrected, moving to the makeshift counter and pulling out four glasses.

Cece flushed. She may be smart, but when it came to keeping track of time…well, that was one reason to keep her lug-head of a brother around. “Right. I take it back. I’m too lazy to unpack.”

Bucky let out a laugh and nudged her playfully. “Sounds about right.”

Steve dutifully followed the eccentric woman and paused inside the doorway, taking in the space.

Small wasn’t an exaggeration when it came to describing the hut. It was ten foot long and eight foot wide. The walls that were made from clay were painted a bright yellow, reflecting the light that streamed in through the windows on the west wall. There were two cots laid next to each other with well-loved quilts covering them, no pillows. The makeshift counter that held various pots, plates, glasses, and silverware was made from an old wooden door. Next to the counter was a large cooler where Steve assumed perishables were stored. He’d even guess that they use it for food storage to keep predators out of their supply. But what stood out to Steve was that this was obviously just a place for them to eat and sleep. There was no living here.

“You must move around a lot,” Steve commented as Cecelia handed him a glass of water.

He doesn’t miss how her eyes flick to Bucky nervously, unsure how much he may have shared.

“You can trust Steve,” Bucky encouraged, moving to lean you against the wall. He casually crossed his arms and leaned all of his weight to one side, ankles crossed. Cece had to suppress a laugh because she always thought that in another life, James Buchanan Barnes was a model.

Instead, she nodded and turned her attention back to Steve. “I’m not sure how much James told you about my gifts,” she ignored Bucky whining about calling him by his given name, “but staying in one place too long has proven to be…a challenge. People want to control what I have or would prefer to have me kept under lock and key so they could study me. Since I am neither property, prisoner, or test subject, I have to move every few weeks or so.” She nodded her head towards Michael who was pulling out things to make dinner with. “That’s another reason why he follows me around. I’m ‘just a feeble young lady who can’t fight off a squirrel’, so now I have a shadow.” Her voice deepened, mocking how presumably Michael would sound when she mentioned how ‘feeble’ she was. Cece took a drink of water before contenting, rolling her eyes. “Of course, it doesn’t matter that I can incapacitate anyone with just a thought, but that’s not something I can use in my argument apparently.”

Michael grunted from his spot, measuring out some powdery substance into a pan. “Unless they catch you unaware.”

Cece just laughed and shrugged her shoulders, giving Steve a ‘what can you do’ look.

Steve idly wondered if something had happened in her past or if she was just cautious. He made a mental note to ask later.

“Anywho,” Cece continued, setting her glass back on the counter and looked between Bucky and Steve. “I can go more into that later. Why don’t you two knuckleheads tell me what brings you in.”

Steve couldn’t keep the shock off of his face at being called knucklehead. He turned to Bucky to see what his reaction was, but his best friend let out a carefree laugh, not at all offended. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he saw Bucky so relaxed. It had to have been before the war. He was starting to wonder if there was more to this Cecelia than Bucky was aware of. He had to be cautious around her until he could make his own judgments.

He cleared his throat, calling attention to him. “Bucky mentioned that you might be able to help a….friend.” He felt awkward saying it aloud, just realizing that he would have to explain what had happened. How a man was now partially paralyzed because of him.

Bucky noticed the shift in Steve’s mood and gives him a sympathetic look. “I can explain if you would prefer,” he offered, wanting to alleviate some of Steve’s stress.

Steve adamantly shook his head. “No, I can do it. I should do it.” He turned his attention back to the small woman in front of him. “There was a fight and a good friend of mine was caught in the crossfire, leaving him with partial paralysis.” He paused, trying to think of how much he wanted to divulge about Tony and the resources that surely would have been made available for Rhodey


“And you’re wondering if I can fix your friend?” Cece asked intuitively. There was a tangible shift in her mood, more serious now than playful. This was Dr. Thompson. “Do you know what kind of treatment options he may have already been offered?”

Steve was surprised that she didn’t ask about what his injuries were, but answered her. “I don’t know for sure,” he admitted, “I only know that Tony would do his damn best to make sure Rhodey got the best care possible. No amount of funding would be an issue.”

She waved her hand at that. “People who are surgeons and need money to guide them to their next job aren’t my favorite.” Her thoughts flashed to some asshole Doctor in New York who only took patients if they were ‘interesting’ enough, but also had a chance of success. Sure, he was good at what he did, but still….what an ass. “Rhodes is the guy who was injured?” she asked for clarification. “As in, Colonel James Rhodes of the Air Force and best friends with philanthropist Tony Stark?”

She threw her head back and laughed at the look of surprise on the Captain's face, giving him a faux-sympathetic look and patted his shoulder in comfort. “I might live in Africa, but I don’t live under a rock.” She switched back from Doctor Thompson to Cecelia with an ease that caused more surprise. Steve wasn’t able to switch back and forth from Captain America to Steve Rogers like that. He wasn’t even sure he knew who Steve Rogers was anymore. Now wasn’t the time to think about that, though.

“Good to know,” he replied, unsure of what the proper response would be.

“Soup’s up.” Michael shoved a hot bowl into Steve’s chest that he caught with his hands. He chose to ignore the hostility directed at him. He was a stranger after all.

Cece wasn’t having it though and smacked her brother upside the head. “Knock it off,” she scolds. “Quit being a pansy and just admit that you’re secretly fangirling over having your childhood hero under the same roof as you.”

Steve was sure he was just as red as Michael looked.

“Shuddup,” Michael muttered under his breath, turning to get another bowl that he politely handed to Bucky and then gifted his sister with one before gathering up his own.

Cece looked back to Steve with a smug grin and Steve’s heart skipped in his chest. Was he dying? He diverted his gaze from the siblings and poked at the mush in his hands, unsure of what it was.

“It’s ugali,” Cece explained, noticing his aversion to the unfamiliar food. “Usually describe as cornmeal mush. Doesn’t look too good, but tastes great and is quite filling.” She took a bite of the ugali and let out a quiet pleased moan, playing on how good it tasted. Steve raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, but took a bite himself and was surprised that it was actually half decent. Satisfied that he would survive the new experience, she continued.

“As long as you promise that Tony Stark doesn’t blow me away in the literal sense or turn me into some science experiment, I’m willing to help.”

Chapter Three

Author’s Note: Thank you to @mermaidxatxheart for your support with this! It means the world to me to have you on my side.

Anyways, I’m going to take a temporary leave from working on “One Touch” because...well, I just lost my Aunt to a drunk driver yesterday afternoon and the next part of One Touch revolves around explaining what happened in the readers own accident and it’s too hard for me to write that right now. SO please forgive me and be patient. I promise I’m not dropping the story, but it will be a week or so before there’s any continuation on it.

Coming up in the next few days will be some Halloween Stories, so be looking for those.

I also have three drabbles and a hand full of ships that I need to do from my 200 Follower Celebration. I haven’t forgotten, it’s just been a busy week.

Anywho......

Everything Tags: @bettercallsabs @thinkwritexpress-official @mermaidxatxheart @geeksareunique @dont-stop-keep-walking

All My Heroes Tags: @deaniebean