#it’s rather comforting to know that karma finds everyone eventually

[vodkadoll98]

Just a PSA: Some people can bring out the worst in you from the toxic behaviors they’ve distributed and if they can’t admit that, they’ll never get it or grow as a person.

No, I shouldn’t have messaged you at all and let you stay delusional because you never liked to listen to opposite views regarding your behavior or take responsibility when it comes to someone you don’t like. I felt guilty after messaging you harshly from that eating disorder awareness account because I do have a conscience despite whatever you believe about me. I didn’t think you’d take the overall message seriously if I had made my identity clear, but it didn’t matter anyway to you. However it’s true that willingly promoting dangerous behaviors for attention and play is not positive or beneficial, and you’ve seen the picture of what fat does to your heart. It’s not empowering and it’s not just fantasy if it will affect your real life. Ask your doctor about it and see what he/she says. Also, harassing people from multiple different accounts with immature lies/nasty jokes long after you’ve cut ties (Telling a family member to message a former friend and threaten to behead them, DEFEND IT, but play as if you weren’t involved at all) and posting a bunch of misinforming TikToks to slander them but then acting surprised when they message you even though it was wrong/immature to stoop to your level, you will get what you give in life. “I should just let people do whatever they want to me?” Same here, even though most likely no sane person would believe someone who’s been in and out of mental hospitals several times and constantly posts about their drama like a 14 year old, blaming literally everyone else but themselves. It’s time to act your age instead of whining when things don’t go your way. Nobody owes you SHIT.

People with god complexes have excuses for everything. No I wasn’t perfect in our friendship and I’ve admitted that. I picked up some pretty unhealthy behaviors from you and other people/projected certain things dumb onto you from my past as well as you did to me, but you DID give me trauma that you won’t admit to, so why should anyone believe what you say? The world doesn’t have to kiss your ass in order to be unproblematic. If you constantly blame everyone else for your wrongdoings to defend yourself when you’re acting like someone else is bad for doing the same thing, that’s beyond comprehension. You’re a hypocrite. When you willingly engaged in/made up the idea for some of those things but it’s not your fault at all in your head, you are toxic.

Funny to call people like me transphobic when there are trans people out there who publicly agree with us but are shunned by much of the LGBT community because god forbid anyone doesn’t agree with them, even their own people. It’s delusional for you to think I wanted to leave you for only one reason when you were constantly destroying yourself in every way possible and messing up my nervous system, not to mention the fact that so many people in my life were baffled by the stability you openly showed that you lack, and thought it was best for me to no longer contact you. Most of your friends that are equally as mentally unstable as you, telling you that I was abusive from whatever you said has no relevance or true knowledge. It is in no way equal or logical for numerous reasons. I don’t even have to say it because looking at them and hearing about their actions/behaviors was enough. The others who may be closer to sane you manipulated because you’re good at that, much like your parent you despise and say you’re nothing like. People never want to hear the other side of the story.

“Don’t be angry because I decided to grow up,” okay.. so posting TikToks of yourself with binkies in your mouth, drawing childish furries to escape responsibility for your actions, never owning up to anything that you’ve done wrong, posting all of your personal info about your life publicly that literally no one needs to know but you and people close to you just to get attention, posting on your story you don’t believe you’ve ever grown up internally and that you’re likely just playing pretend, promoting stuffing yourself up until you get health issues and thinking that people who engage in that “fantasy” actually love you and want you to be healthy (which is twisted if you look at it from an outside perspective), calling anyone who doesn’t agree with your identity when you’ve changed your pronouns and sexuality nonstop bc you can’t seem to make up your mind a transphobe/bigot, saying you feel like a different person constantly, asking your friend if you’re actually trans and then insisting later on it wasn’t from self doubt but rather judgment, openly talking about your privates on your account and bragging about them but insisting you’re still a trans male with real dysphoria, telling your friend when you edged yourself and say you’ll need to talk to them about your sexual attraction/actions with females when they’re not comfortable because of their past, say you would make out with literally anyone but that doesn’t mean you’re attracted to them, make fun of your friend’s interests as a joke but then get offended suddenly when they do the same with you and proceed to call them unsupportive, get pissed that your friend didn’t believe in something that isn’t supported by science and is claimed by people who face many mental issues, defend posting about taking blood baths and downing a bunch of pills ironically after someone respectfully says they don’t want to be friends anymore and say suddenly that it wasn’t for that reason, defend shoplifting and acting like a baby as a legal adult in public, dress as the complete opposite gender than what you want to be referred to as and then get pissed when people point it out because you supposedly face dysphoria, thinking literally everything about your former friend is the same as it used to be because you’re projecting your insecurities onto them.. all of that isn’t childish or delusional at all? I beg to differ. You defend literally all of these behaviors. That is the opposite of growing up.

Whether you want to accept it or not, you influenced me in bad ways and guilted me into staying in your life because I felt sorry and terrified for you. I had to sit there shaking and crying SO MANY TIMES, wondering if you were going to kill yourself after you made it clear you had the intention to harm yourself in dangerous ways. You ended up in the mental hospital joking around as if everything was fine, and expect me to say you were a healthy and good friend to be around??? You shoplifted in front of me and justified it. We both could’ve gotten arrested. I told you to put it back but you didn’t listen. You decided to steal from a very valuable alcohol bottle from my grandmother but justified it because I drank some with you too. You elbowed her aggressively out of the way as you were walking by during the house drama and gave her a bruise. You shoved my mother and father back, but when your father did this to you, you cried that it was assault. You banged hard on my house from the outside and hit yourself in the head repeatedly instead of trying to calm the situation and prove that you’re mentally stable. You edited pictures of people you didn’t like in the most immature ways like a preteen, posted it when I told you it’s not a good idea, and then got pissed when they messaged you about it. You told me it was wrong to not want to hang out in public with someone in a fursuit and not want to watch lesbians make out or act sexual in public because it makes me uncomfortable due to embarrassing reminders of my past. I’m sorry but dressing up as a furry to go to the store, the park, or for god sakes in my damn backyard, is not normal to do as an adult and I do not as an adult woman NEED to be okay with and do everything you want me to, yet you expected me to do/be okay with EVERYTHING you wanted or I was automatically abusive? Get help is all I can say. You blame everyone possible but never stop to think about yourself. Look deep inside yourself if you’re able and question your actions. If you are not messed up like your parents then act like it.

I won’t name you out of respect, because I know I’m a good person. I am not immature or petty enough to do that. I’m proud of myself for how far I’ve come since we cut each other off. I acknowledge my past wrongs and I’ve grown from them just like I’ll grow all throughout my life like everyone else, but I won’t blame myself for things that I know were done for my own well-being. I’ve changed so so much within a few months after we stopped communicating and accomplished things in my life that people told me I never could. It’s been nearly two years now but it’s felt like many more with my growth and change of mind, and I’ve surrounded myself with better people. I really hope for people like you to realize one day though, they are not the saints/Gods they think they are. Spend time alone and think about everything you’ve done and if all of it was reasonable or if you could be wrong about some of it. It will change your life. Believe me.

[lilyclawthorne]

Sorry but now I need Julieta as a grown ass woman being grounded, just her angry sitting in the corner XD

A visual would be more fun, but I simply can’t do that for you, but instead I can write about it. But also like, this is incredibly rushed and dumb and I definitely began half-assing it like halfway through.

For those who need context, it’s right here

Next part

“Mamá, you can’t seriously be expecting me to do this.”

“They won’t stop complaining Julieta, and to be fair, you did do all those things when you were younger, and they apparently did get punished for at least half of them. Besides it’s only a week and they’ll probably get tired by day three of it.”

They did not get tired by day three.

In fact, the two other triplets were having a grand old time tormenting their sister like they did when they were kids, and Julieta’s patience was wearing thin. There wasn’t much they could actually do to her, other than telling her she had to do all her cooking in the kitchen in her room, rather than the one she usually used, but they certainly found their ways. She had just finished cleaning up dinner for the night, and went to grab a book to read before being stopped by both of her siblings.

“Excuse me Julieta, but I believe it’s straight to bed with you,” Pepa speaks up first, grabbing the book from her sisters hands.

“How long are you two going to keep this ridiculousness up for?”

“Ah, ah, ah, Juli, you did the crimes, you do the time, no statute of limitations here,” Bruno chimes in, and when Julieta doesn’t move, the two grab her by each arm and drag her upstairs. To her relief, Agustín is already there, so at least she has someone to complain to. She swears those two are finding more and more things for the man to do this week, specifically so she had to be alone while she was “grounded.”

He, however, did find the whole situation much funnier than she did, “To be fair amor, you did kind of screw them over at times when you were kids, karma had to come back eventually, huh?”

“Agustín if you say one more word about it, I will not be healing you for the rest of the week.” He knows his wife isn’t too serious about the threat, but he backs off, instead coming up with a different idea.

“Well, if they’re gonna treat you like a teenager again, why not have some fun like one again as well?” He asks, and she tells him to go on, “Well, would you care to sneak out, and sit by the river like we used to do when we were young and first falling so fast in love?”

She laughs, remembering the memories there fondly, and agrees to his suggestion, “I’m starting to think maybe I was a bad influence on you.”

They wait for it to grow completely dark outside, and everyone has retired to the rooms for the night, before quickly creeping out of their bedroom, down the stairs and through the front door, struggling not to fall into a fit of giggles at how silly this all was. There was slightly more risk in waking other’s up, Julieta used to just climb out a window, but didn’t feel quite comfortable doing so anymore, and so through the courtyard the had to go. They make it out and head to the tree by the river that they always spent time at when they were teens, pushing Agustín up against the rough wood and kissing him with the same energy she had so many years ago.

Unfortunately for them, they didn’t make it more than five minutes before the sound footsteps could be heard.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” they hear Bruno remark from only a few feet away, but it’s Pepa who dares to grab her sister by the ear and drag her all the way home. Agustín once again can’t help but laugh at the situation at hand, until Bruno and Pepa tell him to take the couch, and now it’s just annoying to him as they say Julieta’s grounded and clearly she can’t be trusted to stay in her room when influenced by others. But now it’s Julieta’s turn to laugh, and comment on his karma, as it was his idea in the first place to sneak out, before Pepa drags her the rest of the way to her room. They’d later come to realize that they’d just gained the added thrill of sneaking Agustín back into her room just like she used to do.

The next day, ALL of the grandchildren are starting to question what’s going on, huddling in Dolores’ room to discuss where no one could hear them.

“Why are Tía Pepa and Tío Bruno being so weird to Mami as of lately?” Mirabel questions.

“Apparently Tía Julieta was actually a troublemaker as a kid, and the other two got blamed for a lot of it? But she confessed to it recently and the other two made Abuela “ground” her but really it’s just them carrying out,” Dolores fills everyone in.

“So basically,” Isabela begins, “the lesson here is that everything you do that you shouldn’t be doing, you should take it to the grave.”

[fandom-monium]

For the Holidays - Part 3

Summary: In which Spencer doesn’t want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “Please, we're FBI agents. I think we have enough stealth training to get by.”

WC: 2k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), fluff, descriptions of panic/anxiety (non-extreme), defensive Spencer, angst but not from unnecessary trauma, emotional-support Reader, reunion arc, song fic

I'm at a party I don't wanna be at And I don't ever wear a suit and tie, yeah Wondering if I could sneak out the back Nobody's even looking me in my eyes Then you take my hand Finish my drink, say, "Shall we dance?" (Hell, yeah) You know I love ya, did I ever tell ya? You make it better like that

You shield your eyes, “Your class sure knows how to throw a party.”

Immediately, you’re blinded by white and gold, the strobe lights bouncing off the matching streamers and balloons surrounding you. Gingerbread and peppermint bombards your noses as Mariah Carey blasts from the overhead speakers, well-dressed men and women swaying all over the gymnasium. Others laugh, walk around, eat, catching up with old friends. It reminds you of a middle school winter formal, aside from the understandable sophistication that comes with age. And the alcohol.

However, there’s hundreds of faces; they’re worn, deep-set, and wrinkled over time but Spencer would recognize them anywhere.

Memories flood in. His heart rate skyrockets.

No, no, no! Not now!

You feel Spencer tense next to you before you see it. His eyes are unblinking and his breathing quickens.

You don’t hesitate, dragging him aside and sticking to the wall.

“I-I’m so-sorry,” Spencer manages between shuttered breaths.

"Sorry? For what?" You don’t look at him, gently guiding him with a hand on his back, eyes searching. You stop next to a Christmas tree. Perfect. Shadowed, private. No one will look twice at a couple in a secluded corner.

Spencer ducks his chin, “F-for all this.”

Although Underneath the Christmas Tree thunders overhead, you still catch the small whimper that escapes him. Your chest tightens; you knew he was bullied, but what the hell did these people do to make him react like this?

Knowing you won’t get answers now, you rest his back against the wall, shielding him from prying eyes. “Reid, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not 'fine',” He rasps, shaking his head. He tries to focus on something⎼anything⎼but tears muddle his vision. So he shuts his eyes and presses a hand over his pounding heart, willing it to calm down. It refuses. “You came all this way to help me, and-and now I’m wasting your time⎼”

“Woah, hold up,” You grasp his free arm, stepping closer and trying to meet his eyes. Mindful of his aversion to touch and his germaphobic tendencies, you leave a sliver of space. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed. Spencer feels your warmth bloom even through the sleeve of his blazer. 

“You have nothing to apologize for. None of this was a waste of time, and honestly, I still would have come along had you asked, even if I didn’t have to act as your partner.” Your smile turns shy as you add, “And for what it’s worth, I had a lot of fun today.” 

Your words, while an attempt to comfort him, only sends his heart into hyper-speed. He finally meets your gaze, blinking through unshed tears. “Really?”

“Really.” 

Your eyes, tender and earnest, sparkle in the strobe lights. Spencer thinks, if you keep looking at him like that, he might kiss you.

He doesn't even notice his heartbeat leveling as you lace your hand over his tentatively pulling it away from his pounding heart. He flushes when you don’t let go. “Reid, this can wait. Whatever your bullies told you, whatever they did, you prove them wrong every time you put a bad guy behind bars, every time you finish a geo-profile, every time you save a life. You can always try another time. If it really is too much, we can leave now and you can show me that first bar you went to, the one that gave you shots of apple juice?”

Your smile broadens as Spencer gives you a wobbly grin. "You think anyone will notice us leaving?"

You snort, "Please, we're FBI agents. I think we have enough stealth training to get by."

Spencer chuckles. Without another word you pull away from him, leading him towards the exit, hands still intertwined as the double doors come into view. Then you feel Spencer resist and you pause, glancing over your shoulder. 

He’s looking at you, and for the first time, you see him looking at you like he’s never done before. 

But he has. The only difference is it’s completely unrestrained. Spencer has looked at you like this time and time again⎼eyes soft and brimming with adoration⎼never to your face, always held back in fear of what it could mean, how’d you react.

Right now he doesn’t care. He just… wants you to know. To understand.

You chalk it up to the lighting. 

“I know I said this already, but,” His eyes crinkle and his voice, though wavers, is laced with such warmth, you nearly melt on the spot. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

… Oh dear. Only Dr. Spencer Reid could knock the air out of you with just words.

Not sure of what else to say, you bite your lip and nod, lips threatening to turn into a full blown grin. “Me too.” You ignore the way your heart pounds. 

Not now.

Satisfied, he moves to leave, tugging you behind him as you approach the exit.

“Spencer Reid? Is that you?”

You freeze.

We at a party we don't wanna be at Tryna talk, but we can't hear ourselves Read your lips, I'd rather kiss 'em right back With all these people all around

I'm crippled with anxiety But I'm told it's where we're s'posed to be You know what? It's kinda crazy 'cause I really don't mind When you make it better like that

It’s been over a decade. Her voice comes hesitant, deeper than he remembers but he could never forget.

“Reid.” 

Your voice shakes him out of his stupor and he glances at you.

Right, he’s got you. He’s safe with you. 

You frown. “Who’s this?”

Before he can conjure an answer (he’s not even sure if he wants to), the woman steps up, “Hi, I’m Alexa Lisbon. I was Reid’s… classmate.” She says it slow, like she’s not entirely sure either, offering a hand and a tight-lipped smile. You introduce yourself, taking her hand.

Spencer wishes he brought a bottle of hand sanitizer. 

Honestly, the one time he doesn’t bother? IQ 187, my ass.

Pushing down his discomfort, he inches himself between Alexa and you, despite the subtle tremble in his hands.

It’s actually her. She's aged just like everyone around them, wrinkles by her eyes and smile lines at her painted lips. What the hell could she have smiled about after what she did to him?

She's still pretty though. He hates that he still thinks she's pretty.

Alexa’s eyes roam over him, and his skin crawls. "Wow, it’s been so long. You’ve grown.“

“Thanks, it’s the trauma. You know, from working for the FBI, among other things,” He spits out the last part. He feels you press against his side, a warning. He doesn’t care. 

If his biting tone affects Alexa, she doesn’t show it. “Right, right. You’re in the FBI now. That’s amazing,” She trails off, rolling her lips anxiously and clearing her throat. “Hey… can we talk in private?” 

Memories flash like snapshots. 

The grass field. The sports shed. A blank-faced audience.

Spencer bristles, “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of (Your Name). Why? You want to laugh at me? Criticize me? Stri-” You adjust your hand in his, reminding him he’s not alone. He grits his teeth. 

He almost feels guilty when Alexa flinches. Almost.

“Okay,” Her tone is soothing, careful like she’s addressing a cornered animal. Her gaze flicks between you two, hesitating. “If it makes you feel better, you can bring (Your Name), but we really need to speak with you.”

Spencer’s brow furrows. “We?”

Alexa steps aside, nodding past the crowd of drunken dancing, waiting for him to decide.

“It’ll be okay,” You watch him from the corner of your eye. It’s strange; you’ve witnessed Spencer snap a few times, usually to unsubs, people who deserved sharp tongues and razored vocabulary. There were rare occasions when the two of you had your spats, but he never lashed out at you. Not like this.

You wonder what Alexa Lisbon did to warrant such hostility. 

“She’s not an unsub, Reid,” He shivers, your whisper brushing against his ear. He clenches his jaw as he stares down Alexa, but he leans into you, listening. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll be right behind you the whole time.”

And you swear if something happens to Spencer, you’ll kill everyone in the room and then yourself.

Apparently, that’s enough for him as he steps after Alexa, weaving through the mass of bodies. His grip tightens around your hand. Eventually, Alexa stops and you find yourselves at the farthest corner of the gym, by the dining tables.

Suddenly, Spencer wants to run. To throw up. 

Like Alexa their faces have aged, matured as he expected. Some have gained and lost weight, dressed completely different than back in the day, while others look like the world treated them so, so kindly. It makes him grimace. 

Of course the universe decided his tormentors didn’t need to suffer after what they did. He’d expect nothing else. Karma is nothing if not a bitch.

Maybe he can projectile vomit onto them.

Wait, he doesn’t have the abdominal strength to do that. Damn it.

“Spencer Reid,” Harper Hillman breathes, as if she’s testing the way it rolls off of her tongue. Like his name is new to her. Makes sense, considering all they’ve ever called him was anything but his name. She stands from her chair, smile tight-lipped like Alexa’s. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

Spencer gestures lamely. “Well, here I am.”

“Yeah, um, would you like to sit? We saved you a seat,” Harper’s gaze switches between Spencer and the table. 

They saved him a seat? They saved him a seat? 

Who are these people? 

Spencer shifts his stance, eyes flitting over each face but never lingering, unable to look them in the eye for long. “I’d rather stand, thanks.“

“Oh, no problem. You remember everyone, right?” Harper glances at Alexa, the few members of the football team that showed up, gesturing to them. 

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187,” Spencer’s face hardens. “What do you think?”

To his delight and astonishment, Harper has the sense to look flustered. “Right, almost forgot about that.”

Spencer nods, toeing the hardwood with his converses. The atmosphere is so thick. Seconds go by.

Alexa clears her throat, “Well-uh⎼”

“What do you want?” Spencer grinds out, one hand fisted in his pocket while the other grips yours tighter. He hasn't even been there for an hour, and already he’s tired and afraid. Whatever they had to say, he wants to get it over with.

Mouths open and close as they try to come up with an answer. Harper, Alexa, the entire group trade hesitant looks, like they had a plan and it wasn’t going accordingly. Like they’re not sure how to proceed. Or who should lead the assault.

Then a nod from Alexa and they stand almost in unison. Spencer’s eyes narrow when Harper smoothes down her dress and tugs at her collar, while Alexa wrings her hands together and bites the inside of her cheek. They all exchange looks between each other and the football team, even they look apprehensive, shoulders tense. Readied.

Oh my god they’re going to jump him. Pin him down and strip him naked again. 

“Reid,” Alexa starts, the group stepping forward as if backing her up. 

Waiting, probably for a signal, Spencer realizes. His stomach turns to lead.

“We want to say…”

Well, good fucking luck. The gym is packed with witnesses, and he’s 90% sure you’d risk your job, bust their kneecaps before you’d let them touch him.

It’s a bold but foolish move, really⎼

“We’re sorry.”

He braces himself.

…Wait. ‘Sorry’?

All his brain function stutters to a halt.

AN: 3/4?? 

guess who wrote 4k just to set up a song-fic?? *raises hand* 

yes this entire fic was inspired by I Don’t Care by Ed Sheeran and Justin Bieber okay dont come for me

we all need an emotional-support reader in our lives

also my first reid angst i hope i set the tone and pacing right, wrote it a lot differently :| 

If y'all notice the reference to starstruck by @spacedikut?? Just a small dedication/tribute thingy to them bc I love and appreciate their everything 😚💛

[flimflamblings]

I spent. a truly appalling amount of time on a verse I will probably never use again. Anyway headcanons under the cut awsecawdedrf

So I was thinking about an obligatory "flim and flam are related to the apples" verse, so I dug up an old idea for it and got a lil too in depth with it zscdvawf.

So basically the framing device of this au in my head is that the apples (main ones) deliver special zap apples to a pretty distant branch of the family (they're related through granny smiths aunt essentially) because the distant fam (I'm gonna call them the redloves) wants to make special desserts to celebrate them all being together for the first time in a long time, specifically the sons are visiting which never happens

The apples just vibe with the family helping them make these special desserts while apple bloom goes into town for something. While Apple Bloom is around guess who she spots, the boys, looking deeply deeply unenthused. She kinda assumes whatever scheme they were doing had already been foiled, but she thinks it's notable enough to go tell AJ.

She can barely get a word in edgewise with AJ as the aunt, Apple Leaves, is running her mouth off endlessly about weird embarrassing details about "Red and Goldie" - the sons who are visiting. Mainly about how they hate coming home and she has literally no idea why. Before Applebloom can tell everyone about who she saw in town, guess who's at the door.

Golden Delicious and Red Delicious - Flim and Flam

Let's get into relations. So as indicated, Auntie Apple Leaves is not the mother of the family, she's the aunt - but she is the main matriarch of the gaggle. Bushel is her son, the little boy next to him is his son, Buck. Then there's Flim and Flam with their respective family names, then their older sister pink lady and her daughter little Redlove. Finally there's their father, Oregon Trail, and late mother Redlove.

Basically, Redlove passed away when Flim, Flam, and Lady were youngish, definately old enough to remember her and the aftermath quite clearly, but not old enough to be super mature about it (so like 10 and 14 respectively I'd say). She was a very sweet mare who always supported her children, an overall comforting presence to contrast the brick wall that was their father. Oregon Trail was a rail pony, he pulled trains before the relatively new invention of engine power. He was extremely absent, he was never home for long but when he was he was sleeping.

Trail couldn't just give up his job when his wife passed, so the kids moved in with Redlove's sister Apple Leaves (okay that's her canon name but,, come on. I'm gonna pretend her name is Ambrosia Apple Leaves but that's beside the point) and her son Bushel.

Flim, Flam, and Lady were cityfolk compared to their relatives. Even the relatively small train stop settlement they lived in was bustling compared to the smattering of houses separated by acres of orchard Auntie and Bushel called home. Lady adjusted fine, she liked being alone and making herself useful but flim and flam... didn't.

Flim and Flam may just be the scrawniest apples to set hooves to equestria. It wasn't really their fault, they were twins which are already small, and unicorns to boot. They really got hit with every recessive gene in the apple gene pool, and they would absolutely feel the ramifications of that.

They would be simply unfit for orchard work, even if they wanted to do it (which they did not). They were too little to buck trees, they didn't have the attention span to sort, and them in the kitchen was a harbinger or disaster. Together, they had many talents, just not useful ones.

Flam's talent was engineering. He had always been curious about the inner workings of household machines and how to make them work better, and he was especially interested in the trains his dad worked with. Into his teen years he started to find them inefficient, and (never knowing when to shut up) argued with his dad pretty often over how much easier everything would be if ponies would just accept steam, or electric, or magic power over horse power - this predictably caused a rift between them.

Flim was more on the creative side. He had a lot of big ideas he was happy to wax on about (if anyone would actually want to hear them) but was overall more of a planner than a doer. He also took a lot of pride in his showmanship and appearance, he tried very, very hard to look 'respectable'. His worst fear was to come off as a simple country bumpkin, but this did not go over well in the country.

One common gene Flim and Flam DID inherit was macromagenisia (very creative yea yea), a fairly common disorder where a pony produces an unusual amount of magic, leading to enhanced abilities but also uncontrollable outbursts. Instead of making them stronger and more in tune with the earth like other apples, if just have them more powerful unicorn magic. Too bad there were no unicorns around to teach them nor to control it.

In there first years on the farm, the boys would do anything to make themselves useful. This usually came in the form of trying to apply their inventing talents to daily tasks - which almost always ended in disaster. Eventually things devolved into a mutual hatred of the situation from both the boys and the family.

Though Auntie always at least attempted to be sweet with the boys, even if she wasn't very good at it, Bushel did not in the slightest. He didn't hate the boys per say, but he certainly went out of his way to give them hell more often than not. He came up with the nicknames "Spiffy and Sparky" which unfortunately caught on with the few other children in the area, which was a thorn in the brothers side until they moved out.

Flim and Flam didn't really know why Bushel didn't like them. Bushel didn't even know why Bushel didn't like them. I guess it was mostly about the tiny sliver of reputation Bushel had with the other kids around, that he was the big manly tough guy everyone wanted to be. His image was somewhat hampered by having to drag the town weirdos around with him everywhere, and being related to them certainly didn't help. He just didn't appreciate their ~ alternative ~ talents, and to be honest, they made no attempt to be kind to him.

The only pony Flim and Flam even kind of enjoyed was their older sister, Pink Lady. She was kind of everything they wanted to be, deep down. She was smart and adaptable - she knew how to make the best out of every situation. Lady was an optimistic, but a realistic one. She put off an heir of maturity, like she was truly above it all. She didn't indulge them any more then the rest of the family did, but she was always quick to defend them one way or another. She was the only member of the family they even attempted to keep contact with after they left, though it was tough being penpals with travelers.

As the boys grew up the farm became more and more grating. The one thing they couldn't stand was routine, and 8 years of it had them on the brink of a breakdown. All they wanted was adventure, literally anything to shake things up. So when they turned 18, they skipped town. They're first act of freedom was changing their names, they simply wanted to become someone new.

The very few times the twins visited the family was to meet their niece and nephew. They actually get along with kids quite well, and despite not liking their family, they had a soft spot for welcoming new members.

Karma manifests in funny ways, because rather than be like his father, Buck is surprisingly like Flim and Flam. He doesnt particularly like farm life, and is overall pretty meek and nerdy, to Bushel's dismay.

Okay so I'm super tired and this is so long, I'm ending the post. yall get the gyst.

[blackcherrykiss]

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.7)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4] [CH.5] [CH.6] previous chapters

[CH.8.] next chapter (unavailable, check back or follow for updates!)

You fell into a distrustful panic that night now that knew the screams of the woods were also where Jungwon and his friends lived. You weren't sure if you should be scared for those group of boys or be scared of them. You'd be lying to yourself if you tried to believe it was only a coincidence the boys had a place in the forest of violent cries.

You questioned your sanity, were they murderers? Was that their dirty secret?

Your conclusions were endlessly dark, repeating themselves countlessly. You had never wanted to sleep away your thoughts more than ever. Eventually, you got exhausted from your thoughts. It was mentally draining to try and tear apart the possibilities of the situation, you didn't have enough evidence to be so sure. You lay in a cold sweat as you drifted off into a deep but horrible sleep.

You dreamt in full awareness. The boys with blood spilling down their hands and onto their swan white clothes. A red mess everywhere on the cream walls of an orphanage that overflowed with rays of a full moon. Although you were scared of what you were witnessing, you could not wake up even if your life depended on it. It seemed as if the dream had sped up your sleep as you woke in what felt like a few seconds. Calmly, you awoke in the misty autumn morning in a crushed up pile of blankets. You sit up to peel your wispy curtains away from the window to get a good look at the dark forest that steamed with a muddy blue fog. All of the memories of Jungwon yelling at you for just being near the woods flooded your brain as you stared. This time you were determined to search deep into that forest and get to the bottom of its mysteries as it called out to you.

"Y/N I think you're going to be late for your first class." Nana knocked before bursting into your room in full uniform, not a wrinkle on her shirt.

"Y-you're already ready? What time is it?!" You glanced back and forth between your pyjamas and uniform that draped over a random stool as you were too lazy to fold nicely the night before.

"We didn't want to wake you... So we went ahead thinking you'd come down eventually." She yanked you out of bed, gripping your forearms tightly before backing out the door, "Don't be late! We promised we'd keep out of detention this year!"

Within a blink of an eye, you slip into your uniform, slinking your arms through the holes of your blouse and adjusting your legs to be cover by your ashy plaid skirt. With your bag and binder in hand, you sprinted across your campus to the gymnasium where you found yourself arriving, everyone already in the proper athletic attire.

"You're late."  Your health teacher grit her teeth in visible disappointment. Your teacher knew how unlike you it was to be late as your classmate's eyes followed your every movement.

"P-pardon me." You clawed your fingers through your bedhead, speeding to the change room, nervous she'd assign you detention.

You let out the deep breath you were holding in as you got into the empty locker room, frustrated at yourself for waking up so late. You can't help but feel upset that you let your thoughts get the best of you and ruin your perfect attendance. Truly you were ashamed but began to see no point in continuing to rush the pace at which your day was running.

The locker room door opens and you see Kyungeun peep herself inside, "Y/N? You alright?"

You pull your boxy shirt flat down, zipping and tying every spot on your tracksuit jacket, "Yeah, sorry rough morning..."

"No worries, I just said that I had to go to the bathroom but I really just wanted to check on you." She had a motherly sound to her voice which comforted your bad start to the day. Perhaps she was in a good enough mood for you to ask her briefly about her relationship with Sunghoon.

"Kyungeun, I think I need to just clear the air... I saw you with Sunghoon in the library." You tilted your head in regret as to whether or not you were starting off the conversation in the right direction.

"Y-you saw us???" Her face drained to an unrealistic hue, "Lord... Sunghoon will kill me if he finds out you know."

"Stop! What do you mean? He'll kill you? Is it because I know that you two are dating?"

"NO! Nevermind then!" She cut you off right after the question mark in your voice. She looked rather relieved at your response which could only mean their relationship was much different than you had presumed. "I just can't tell you about our relationship I'm s-sorry it's between just us two."

"So then it's okay for him to flirt with my roommate?"

"No? Are you serious right now ?!" Kyungeun panicked.

"So you are dating?" You gave a smug smile.

"It's not that..." She was visibly frustrated not being able to describe herself in words, "I'll tell you this, I'm bound to him..." She ran her index finger along the reddened gash on her neck  He's blackmailing me."

"So you're like his pet?" You held in your laughter, you knew you should be more serious but you had no other way of trying to help Kyungeun express the gist of her relationship.

"I'll tell you another day...  Let's just go before the teacher gets mad at you for taking so long to change."

...

After your class full of advanced leg exercises and mediocrely fun games, you got halted by your gym teacher, "Y/N can we speak about how tardy you were today?"

You got fearful of her sentencing you detention, freezing up from your heel upwards, "I'm so sorry, I just had a lot going on last night..."

"Sweetie, I know this is your first late in my class but unfortunately the school does not tolerate tardiness in the way I believe it should be." She tapped her chin a few times, "I have no other choice but to send you to detention but it'll just be a half-hour at lunch." You felt better that it wasn't for a full hour or two after school but you were still dreading the idea.

"Can't you just let me off the hook? I promise it'll never happen again" You pleaded desperately.

"I'm afraid I cannot... If the other teachers or students knew you didn't get sent to detention I could get into trouble for giving you 'special treatment'. I know you didn't mean to love but I cannot afford to lose my job so I'll see you then." She patted one of your shoulders, giving it a little squeeze to cheer you up.

"I understand..." You nod with your head that already hung low.

"It's in the English room down the hall, there is usually only a few students there. Some familiar faces."

...

That rest of your morning would only pull through faster as you got some weird anxiety over walking into the detention room. You could not concentrate at all in the class you had before lunch. You felt as if you were too good for the detention group of kids, but here you were about to join those you criticized. Karma.

"Make sure to answer the questions 8-16 on page 300, you have the rest of the class to do so. Any questions?" Your physics teacher stood with his hands balled up behind his back.

Realizing you had no physics book in your bag after triple checking, you shot your arm up in distress, "ME! I forgot my textbook today... I was in a rush this morning." You faked a polite laugh with the expectation your teacher would have a spare.

"I'm afraid I don't have an extra, anyone willing to share?" The teacher lifted his head to scan the class.

"I could share." Jaeyun winked making your face recoil

"Perfect! You'll probably have to move your stuff to his seat then." Your teacher suggested.

With a thick coat of disappointment, you pulled a chair up to Jaeyun's desk to which he kneed you annoyingly.

Within just a few seconds of settling down, you complained "How the hell am I supposed to write? There is no space... Desks are made for ONE person."

"Okay then don't use my textbook and fall behind" He sneered.

"Wait wait, I just had the greatest idea Jaeyun." He gave you puppy eyes when you said his name, "What if you look for half the answers I do the other half then exchange?" You whispered so the teacher could hear.

"I can't trust you make good answers though..." He jokingly sighed.

"HEY! Okay or work together for every question to get it done twice as fast? Oh wait but then I'll be the one carrying the team... Bummer..." You stretched the corners of your mouth until your lips disappeared.

"I honestly don't feel like doing work so lose-lose." He pouted and rolled his eyes.

"Same... I can't even focus, I'm having a rough morning..." You openly admitted, "I got sent to detention for being late in my first class."

"Detention? Didn't think you were the type." Jaeyun had an unexpectedly sweet giggle which contrasted with his lower tone voice, "Heeseung and Sunghoon get sent often, surprised they aren't kicked out of the school."

"They get sent often?!" Your voice rose to which you quickly quieted down to avoid trouble, "Will I see them there?"

"Why? Looking forward to going now?" Jaeyun whispered with a grin, causing you to scoff.

"As if..." A sudden idea coming to mind, "Say Jaeyun... About the party... Heard you guys have a place in the woods...?" You became aware that you could pry some information out of him that would help you when searching the woods that night.

"Yeah, we do... We don't normally tell people about it." He said casually yet still with some sort of caution.

"So why tell us then?"

"Haven't had any visitors in a while..." Jaeyun toyed with his mechanical pencil, using the plastic part to trace around his lips, "Awfully interested aren't you?" He seemed to have caught on to your intentions, shifting the mood of the conversation around in a full 180.

Suddenly the dream you had earlier slipped into mind, causing you to sit in growing discomfort, "What do you want from my friends and I?"

"Nothing sweetheart... We're more interested in you than your dormmates. You look like someone we know." He laughed like a psycho and it creeped you out how the two of you were just poking lighthearted jokes to something much darker and mysterious, "I know you're afraid of us, you know far more than most girls." His voice dropped to a whisper as he watched the teacher behind you to make sure he didn't see the both of you slacking.

"Kyungeun knows your secrets too she said she'll tell me."

"She's acting like we don't know her secrets." Jaeyun closed his textbook, "Y/N just remember this, Kyungeun is half as bad as we are and half as pure as you are."

"Alright class, that's it for today's class. This textbook assignment won't be due until Friday have a good lunch." The teacher interrupted, causing your conversation with Jaeyun to end on a hanging note.

"Good luck with detention."Jaeyun hushed in your ear.

_______________

p.s, i changed the cover lol don’t make fun of my photoshop skills!

[justdreamsstuff]

Here are 75 quotes about success to inspire you to keep pushing forward and achieve your dreams

"If you set your goals ridiculously high and it's a failure, you will fail above everyone else's success." James Cameron

"Success usually comes to those who are too busy to be looking for it." Henry David Thoreau

"Things work out best for those who make the best of how things work out." John Wooden

"Entrepreneurs average 3.8 failures before final success. What sets the successful ones apart is their amazing persistence." Lisa M. Amos

"If you are not willing to risk the usual, you will have to settle for the ordinary." Jim Rohn

"Take up one idea. Make that one idea your life--think of it, dream of it, live on that idea. Let the brain, muscles, nerves, every part of your body, be full of that idea, and just leave every other idea alone. This is the way to success." Swami Vivekananda

"Stop chasing the money and start chasing the passion." Tony Hsieh

"All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them." Walt Disney

"If you are willing to do more than you are paid to do, eventually you will be paid to do more than you do." Anonymous

"Success is walking from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm." Winston Churchill

"Whenever you see a successful person, you only see the public glories, never the private sacrifices to reach them." Vaibhav Shah

"Success? I don't know what that word means. I'm happy. But success, that goes back to what in somebody's eyes success means. For me, success is inner peace. That's a good day for me." Denzel Washington

"Opportunities don't happen. You create them." Chris Grosser

"Try not to become a person of success, but rather try to become a person of value." Albert Einstein

"It is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change." Charles Darwin

"Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people." Eleanor Roosevelt

"The best revenge is massive success." Frank Sinatra

"I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work." Thomas Edison

"A successful man is one who can lay a firm foundation with the bricks others have thrown at him." David Brinkley

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." Eleanor Roosevelt

"The whole secret of a successful life is to find out what is one's destiny to do, and then do it." Henry Ford

"If you're going through hell, keep going." Winston Churchill

"What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise." Oscar Wilde

"The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success." Bruce Feirstein

"Don't be afraid to give up the good to go for the great." John D. Rockefeller

"Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you." Nathaniel Hawthorne

"If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough." Albert Einstein

"There are two types of people who will tell you that you cannot make a difference in this world: those who are afraid to try and those who are afraid you will succeed." Ray Goforth

"Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can." Arthur Ashe

"People ask, 'What's the best role you've ever played?' The next one." Kevin Kline

"I find that the harder I work, the more luck I seem to have." Thomas Jefferson

"The starting point of all achievement is desire." Napoleon Hill

"Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day-in and day-out." Robert Collier

"If you want to achieve excellence, you can get there today. As of this second, quit doing less-than-excellent work." Thomas J. Watson

"All progress takes place outside the comfort zone." Michael John Bobak

"You may only succeed if you desire succeeding; you may only fail if you do not mind failing." Philippos

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear--not absence of fear." Mark Twain

"Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone." Pablo Picasso

"We become what we think about most of the time, and that's the strangest secret." Earl Nightingale

"The only place where success comes before work is in the dictionary." Vidal Sassoon

"I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everyone." Bill Cosby

"Though no one can go back and make a brand-new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand-new ending." Carl Bard

"I find that when you have a real interest in life and a curious life, that sleep is not the most important thing." Martha Stewart

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." Mark Twain

"The first step toward success is taken when you refuse to be a captive of the environment in which you first find yourself." Mark Caine

"Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect." Mark Twain

"The successful warrior is the average man, with laser-like focus." Bruce Lee

"Rarely have I seen a situation where doing less than the other guy is a good strategy." Jimmy Spithill

"Keep on going, and the chances are that you will stumble on something, perhaps when you are least expecting it. I never heard of anyone ever stumbling on something sitting down." Charles F. Kettering

"If you genuinely want something, don't wait for it--teach yourself to be impatient." Gurbaksh Chahal

"You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backward. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something--your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life." Steve Jobs

"If you want to make a permanent change, stop focusing on the size of your problems and start focusing on the size of you!" T. Harv Eker

"Successful people do what unsuccessful people are not willing to do. Don't wish it were easier; wish you were better." Jim Rohn

"The No. 1 reason people fail in life is because they listen to their friends, family, and neighbors." Napoleon Hill

"In my experience, there is only one motivation, and that is desire. No reasons or principle contain it or stand against it." Jane Smiley

"Success does not consist in never making mistakes but in never making the same one a second time." George Bernard Shaw

"I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well." Diane Ackerman

"Motivation is what gets you started. Habit is what keeps you going." Jim Ryun

"Our greatest fear should not be of failure ... but of succeeding at things in life that don't really matter." Francis Chan

"If you don't design your own life plan, chances are you'll fall into someone else's plan. And guess what they have planned for you? Not much." Jim Rohn

"Nobody ever wrote down a plan to be broke, fat, lazy, or stupid. Those things are what happen when you don't have a plan." Larry Winget

"To be successful you must accept all challenges that come your way. You can't just accept the ones you like." Mike Gafka

"Be content to act, and leave the talking to others." Baltasar

"You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it." Margaret Thatcher

"Be patient with yourself. Self-growth is tender; it's holy ground. There's no greater investment." Stephen Covey

"I owe my success to having listened respectfully to the very best advice, and then going away and doing the exact opposite." G. K. Chesterton

"Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up." Thomas A. Edison

"The greater the artist, the greater the doubt. Perfect confidence is granted to the less talented as a consolation prize." Robert Hughes

"What would you attempt to do if you knew you would not fail?" Robert Schuller

"Always bear in mind that your own resolution to success is more important than any other one thing." Abraham Lincoln

"Successful and unsuccessful people do not vary greatly in their abilities. They vary in their desires to reach their potential." John Maxwell

"Would you like me to give you a formula for success? It's quite simple, really: Double your rate of failure. You are thinking of failure as the enemy of success. But it isn't at all. You can be discouraged by failure or you can learn from it, so go ahead and make mistakes. Make all you can. Because remember that's where you will find success." Thomas J. Watson

"Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere." Albert Einstein

"Success is just a war of attrition. Sure, there's an element of talent you should probably possess. But if you just stick around long enough, eventually something is going to happen." Dax Shepard

"My tombstone? I'm thinking something along the lines of, 'Geez, he was just here a minute ago.'" George Carlin

[thefanficmonster]

Darkest Of Nights

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How to Get Away With Murder)

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Vomiting, Swearing, Spoilers for Season 1 of How To Get Away With Murder

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship

Summary: On the night of Sam’s murder, it’s safe to say everyone is traumatized, looking for comfort and solace. However, one of them gets the complete opposite: Michaela is only offered more pain and trauma, bringing her to the brink of insanity.

Requested by 🐢 Anon, but also meant as a birthday present for an Anon who recently reached out to me. Happy birthday dear Anon! Hope you have the best one yet! Here’s the fic you requested - I hope it lives up to your expectations! It’s been such an honor to be the person to write you a birthday present and I can only hope I’ve done my job well! Love, Vy ❤

She’s still in utter shock and disbelief. She’s shaking like a leaf as she navigates the roads back to her apartment. It pains her that she’ll have to pass by the Keating house again tonight, knowing what happened there just hours ago. She squeezes the jacket tighter around herself, glad to not see any familiar - or rather any faces at all. The bonfire has gathered every college student, graduate and fan of the sport around itself, giving the streets an emptiness Michaela hasn’t seen before.

Michaela Pratt has always liked planning out her life, having her future laid out in front of her always at her disposal for changing and modifying. She’s always seen herself a successful, envied lawyer in the future, someone other lawyers fear and all wrong-doers want. Because who doesn’t want freedom? She’d pride herself on being the one to bring them that freedom. She’d pride herself on owning a title like Annalise’s - a bitch, a beast and a boss in the courtroom.

However, just like she had everything laid out in front of her eyes, she’s watching it all fall apart. Fall into that very bonfire her and her classmates went to take pictures at to own their alibis. To save themselves from possible suspicion. To paint the picture that they aren’t murderers.

That realization will never soften its blow to her chest and stomach. Every time she repeats the word ‘murderer’ in her mind, her heart skips a bit and her stomach turns, threatening to make her release everything in it onto the pavement she’s walking on. She feels disgusting and dirty, not only because of the ash and mud she has all over herself following the venture into the woods where they dismembered Sam’s body, but because she took part in it. She may have stood aside, crippled by shock, disbelief and disgust, but she’s now a part of it nonetheless.

With her heart and mind racing faster than she’s able to comprehend, she finds herself unable to turn that corner and get onto the street which the Keating house is on. She feels that if she sees that place she might just faint right there on the street and if that doesn’t raise a few questions, nothing will. Instinctively, she continues ahead, heading down the street that will inevitably lead her to where the mob of drunk or half-drunk people are surrounding a huge fire, celebrating something Michaela is less than disinterested in. She feels it’d make for an extra alibi in case the pictures they posted aren’t enough proof of their faux innocence. 

Michaela squints her eyes at the brightness of the fire nearby, sensing both a cough and a sickening feeling climbing up her throat. There are reporter trucks everywhere, ones she sees as the perfect hiding barriers to prevent her from being seen by anyone in case that sickening feeling morphs into an urge to throw up. She quickens her pace, eager to find herself in the safe space between two of the reporter trucks and attempt to calm her heart that’s threatening to beat out of her chest. She’s still visible to anyone walking along the street, but as it was established earlier, the street’s vacant and it seems it’ll remain that way for a little longer so she feels almost invisible and tiny in comparison to the two truck that serve the purpose of her protectors in this very moment.

Placing a hand on the wall of the truck, she doubles over, preparing for the inevitable when she hears a whistle from somewhere close by. Or, more specifically, directly behind her.

“What a view baby!“ A drunken slur of a male voice follows that whistle, causing her to straighten up and turn on her heel as fast as possible. “Is that how women ask to get some nowadays?”

Her stomach’s now in knots and she can’t find her voice to say anything. She’s frozen with fear of the man’s silhouette that’s now approaching her. His features aren’t visible in the dark so even if she did know him - which she’s sure she doesn’t - she wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Not that it matters, recognizing him or not, this man’s intentions are more than clear and more than threatening.

“Silence means yes in my book, babe. So...why don’t we have some fun?“ Before she can even register his proximity, he’s grabbed her wrists and pushed her against one of the trucks. The disgusting fucker holds her wrists at either side of her head, firmly holding them there, ridding her of any chance of escape.

The events she’s had to go through have already weakened her enough but even with that put to the side she’s no match for this guy - he’s a lot stronger and bigger in size. He’s basically towering over her like a predator looming over its prey, toying with it before going in for the kill. And when he does, when she feels his lips on her neck, that’s the final straw.

The need to relieve her insides finally takes over and she starts gagging, causing the son of a bitch to pull away and let go of her. And then she throws up, all over him, earning her the perfect distraction that will buy her enough time to get the fuck out of there. Despite the shaking of her legs and her still-turning stomach, Michaela takes off running, feeling sweat drops forming and running down her forehead. She can hear the cursing of that gross fucker behind her, but luckily she doesn’t take notice of another pair of running footsteps, suggesting she isn’t being followed. Even with this knowledge, she doesn’t stop running. Her brain understands she’s somewhat safe but her heart is racing, her heartbeat echoing in her ears warning her that there’s danger all around. So, she keeps running until she’s less then two blocks away from her apartment complex. 

Her adrenaline levels refuse to lower but her legs have basically turned into jelly and she can’t find it in her to even keep walking, let alone running.  She collapses, a mess of tears, sobbing and fear on the sidewalk. It’s too much. All too much and all too soon and all out of nowhere. She feels violated, vulnerable, unsafe. She feels both fragile and like she’s already been broken into shards. She feels alone and worst part is, she feels like she deserves it. She sees what happened between those two truck as a punishment for having participated in a murder and the gruesome disposal of a dead body.

Michaela Pratt always knew karma would catch up to her, she just never expected it’d be this cruel. 

She got taught the hard way that in the darkest of nights, the most evil of demons attack.

                                                                *  *  *

Connor Walsh is known to be laid back and nonchalant to the point of irritative. However, right now, he’s anything but.

He’s anxious, he’s nervous, he’s still under shock and in mild panic mode. He’s restless, pacing the living room of the Keating home while running his hands through his hair, desperately trying to ignore and push away the memories of the events that took place in this very room less than twenty four hours ago. 

“Where the hell is she?!!“ He takes a portion of his anger out on the wooden coffee table with a punch that will for sure bruise his knuckles. His eyes skim over the two other accomplices who have never looked so out of it: dead, bloodshot eyes carrying a thousand yard stare, neither of them reacting to his rage nor sharing it with him. “How the fuck are you so calm?! How can you just sit there and-!“

“Cause there’s nothing we can do!“ Wes suddenly snaps, “You heard Annalise - she called in, saying she wouldn’t be able to make it. So what, you want us to exhibit even more suspicious behavior by thrashing and yelling all over the place?“

“No, no, no. She had said she couldn’t make it because she had something to take care of. That ‘something’ could be reporting us, how do you not understand that?!“ Connor lashes out again, his fists only tightening this time, not finding a victim to take their hits.

“Michaela wouldn’t do that, she’s not stupid. It’ll immediately tie her to it too. She’ll go to jail like the rest of us.“ Laurel says, much calmer than the two men in the room though it probably has to do with the lack of energy due to the lack of sleep.

“You never know what’s going on in the brain of that selfish woman!“ He mutters, suddenly getting up and grabbing his phone. He storms out into the hallway, already dialing Michaela’s number.

With the device pressed tightly against his ear, the dial tone piercing his head like a screech straight from hell, he runs a frustrated hand over his pale as a sheet face, squeezing his eyes shut. The call eventually goes to voicemail, but that doesn’t stop Connor Walsh. He keeps trying, each attempt falling through, each call getting sent to voicemail after about five rings. Each time his anger boiling hotter.

“The hell do you want?! Can’t you catch a hint?!“ His seventh attempt is proven successful when a familiar female voices answers from the other line.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Princess. Am I bothering you? My most sincere apologies! I just wanted to know if you feel like ratting us out to the police, but if I’m calling at an inconvenient time, please forgive me.“ He sneers, his sanity restraints breaking one by one under the pressure of frustration, fear and the anxiety attack that’s been building in his chest all day today.

“Listen here, Walsh.“ Michaela hisses threateningly, though Conner doesn’t fail to pick up on the fact that there’s something off about her voice. He doesn’t dwell on that, too over-occupied with his worries of future jail time to care. “I’m not in the mood for your selfishness or for dealing with any of what happened last night so save your shit-talking for a more decent time. And as for the ratting part, I ain’t that kind of scum, though karma will catch up to each and every one of you. Just like...“ her voice suddenly cracks, the words sounding more like a sob than a threat, “Just like it caught up to me last night.“ That sentence is spoken through a cry, which is the last thing Connor was expecting to hear from the woman he deemed so high and mighty and so full of herself she can’t see the world around her nor how she’s affecting it with her selfish decisions.

That last sentence of hers is what the call ends on and what anchors itself in his head. Connor’s left standing in the hallway with a sickening feeling in his stomach that wasn’t there before and a little voice telling him that something is very wrong with Michaela. Her words were all her trademark, expected and explainable phrases but her tone, and that final statement were odd and far too out of place for him to just brush off. That last line she spoke felt like the most sincere and vulnerable thing she’s ever said to him. To anyone, really. There was no show, no tough act in those words. It was nothing but the confession of a broken girl who’s never felt like her life isn’t her own until now.

With that alarm ringing throughout his head and no good explanation, instead of turning and heading into the living room like he originally intended to, Connor storms out the front door of the home with fast and determined steps, heading for the destination he never thought he’d go to.

                                                              *  *  *

Having ordered food twenty minutes prior, Michaela doesn’t find the doorbell sounding throughout her apartment to be weird or unwelcome despite the fact it made her jump and shudder in her seat. With the comfort of the tiny pepper spray bottle in the back pocket of her jeans, she makes her way to the front door, resting one hand on the handle before pushing up on her toes to check through the peephole that the person she’s expecting is indeed the one who’s on the other side.

Her stomach drops and frustration rises through the roof when the peephole reveals the familiar, somewhat distressed face of Connor Walsh.

“GO AWAY!“ She yells turning and placing her back against the door, now not at all willing to open it.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on with you!“ She hears his voice coming from beyond the door, sounding strangely honest and deeply concerned.

“Why do you care anyway?! I already told you I won’t rat you out, you’ve got nothing to worry about!“ The lack of hostility in her voice seems to encourage Connor to speak a bit more freely.

“Come on, Shooting Star. Students who kill and dispose of bodies together share problems together.“ He says sarcastically but with true gentility behind his words.

That hint of honesty and a bit of harmless humor is what makes her slowly inch her hand toward the doorknob once again. After briefly hesitating, she pulls the door open, not at all bothered by the fact her rival is seeing her the most unpresentable she ever remembers being: hair a mess, homey clothes she can’t even recall the age of, no make-up, eye bags - the whole pack.

“Don’t like a Princess or a Shooting Star, do I?“ She attempts the same amount of humor he used but coming from her it sounds rather dead and flat, not that it’s not to be expected after everything she went through.

“You look like someone who has seen and been through some shit.“ He says truthfully, still standing in the hallway, unwilling to go inside until she gives him the green light for fear she might suddenly snap at him. “And I’m not only talking about what happened with Sam.“

Michaela’s eyes gloss over with tears immediately, mentally cursing herself for being so obvious. In order to avoid eye-contact, she steps aside to allow him inside.

“Thank you.“ He mutters as he makes his way past her and down the hall, arrogantly comfortable in the new surroundings.

By the time Michaela has started regretting her decision of letting him in, she realizes it’s already too late so she shuts and relocks the door before following after him in the living room where she finds him already situated in the armchair like it’s his 100th time visiting. Hell, like he owns the place.

She takes the seat on the couch closest to him, not bothering to offer him any hospitality in the form of drinks and snacks. Such offer feels ridiculous under these circumstances.  Speaking of ridiculous, the circumstances themselves are ridiculous - her biggest rival, and now one of her partners in crime is chilling in her living room with a smug look on his face.

“Karma’s gonna catch up to me, huh?“ He suddenly speaks up, reminding her yet again of how bad of an idea inviting him in was. “Yours caught up to you, you say. Though to me it seems like it beat and battered you too.“

Michaela’s never been a crier. In fact, she’s guilty of silently judging people she’s witnessed crying, thinking of them as weak and spineless. But here she is, fighting back tears at the memories she’d much rather forget.

“It did, but it had the opposite effect. I’m glad we ridded this world of a piece of scum like him. One less man who feels entitled to everything. Who feel free to take anything he wants anytime.“ Her throat feels dry as her eyes fill with tears despite her best attempts at holding them back, “Take a girl’s virginity, take her dignity, her safety, her life, take everything away from her. And all that when she’s most vulnerable and scared and helpless and...“

Her words come to an abrupt halt when she finds Connor has repositioned himself and is now sitting next to her on the couch, has turned to face her and has placed a reluctant hand on her shoulder, “Michaela, what happened to you?”

That’s when she breaks down for the fifth time today. Since that breakdown on the sidewalk on her way home, she’s found it infinitely harder to hold her tears back, keep her emotions at bay. So, instead of easting her energy holding back, she’s been wasting it sobbing into the comforter she had wrapped around herself like a safety cocoon until Connor rang the doorbell.

Instinctively more than intentionally, Connor wraps his arm around her shoulders as she tries to get a few words out in-between sobs, “This guy....h-he t-tried to....” she can’t even finish the sentence without the entire scene playing out in front of her eyes, causing her stomach to tighten and her sobs to grow louder. “But, I-I got away in time. But Connor, what if I d-didn’t? Oh God, what would’ve happened to me if I didn’t?”

“It’s ok, you’re ok now. You’re safe.“ He murmurs, pulling her closer until her head’s resting on his shoulder, “You’re ok. And don’t you ever think of it as karma, you hear me? You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that. That was in no way your fault or your punishment. That guy’s gonna meet his punishment if I ever lay my eyes on him though, that’s for sure.“

“I-I didn’t see his face, i-it was too dark.“ She manages to say through the subsided sobbing that has now reduced to crying with the occasional sniffle. “I just heard his voice.” Despite having calmed down, she surprisingly doesn’t feel the need to pull away from Connor, create some distance between them. She doesn’t even dwell on how out of character this is for the both of them, nor does she dwell on the slightly off-putting thought that she’s actually glad to have him by her side. To have someone comforting and reassuring her that what happened is not a result of her own bad actions. That thought haunted her all night, preventing her from even thinking about falling asleep.

“Well, if you ever recognize his voice anywhere, you know you have three experienced killers and dismemberers you can contact to, you know, do the job.“ He says comfortingly, his tone light but still serious.

She can’t help but scoff, “One kill and you’re suddenly hitmen?”

Connor chuckles, “When someone messes with one of our own, we sure as hell are.”

That sentence feels like a bandage on one of Michaela’s many invisible wounds. That one of our own line fills that hole her loneliness drilled into her last night on that sidewalk when she felt so lost and alone and broken. When she felt she had no one to turn to and no one to seek comfort in. 

Among the many things she saw, heard and learned, the most valuable lesson these past twenty four hours have taught Michaela is that after the darkest of nights still comes morning. A bright morning, a new beginning and a helping hand with it. A helping hand, a safe embrace and comforting words. Bonus lesson is that one can never guess where, or rather from who those three elements will be given. These two are a crystal clear example: never did Michaela think she’d find a helping hand, safe embrace and comforting words coming from Connor Walsh. But here they are.

It may be odd and it may be temporary, but she’s not complaining, he doesn’t appear to be doing so either.

[megalony]

Serendipity- Part 2

Here is the second part in my new murderer! Ben Hardy series which I hope you will all enjoy, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon​ @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh​

Series taglist: @onceuponadetectivedemigod​

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Series masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is trying to keep moving on with her life after her affair with Joe’s brother, Ben who is in and out of prison. But Ben won’t let her go so easily even after the torment he imposes on her. He wants to be in their sons life but things aren’t easy when everyone believes Harvey is Joe’s son, not Ben’s.

Enjoy.

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"Will Benny be here?"

"I don't know baby, he's pretty busy right now." (Y/n) tried hard to keep the irritation from her voice because she knew it wasn't Harvey's fault. He didn't know or understand that Ben was a difficult person to be around and that most of his family didn't want to be in his presence. Harvey seemed to be the sole person who wanted to be around Ben right now and that made things ten times worse because he was the one person who (Y/n) wanted to shield away from Ben.

When the three of them entered Joe's parent's house, (Y/n) let go of Harvey's hand, knowing that he was going to find Lucy and run straight to her.

(Y/n) found herself watching after him for a few moments as a feeling of dread crept into her stomach and chest. Ben was right last week, people were going to tell in a few years to come that Harvey wasn't Joe's boy. If his looks weren't enough to make people think of Ben then his interests were, he was sporty like Ben and he was infatuated with any stories that Ben told him about fighting and boxing. Ben was becoming a role model to him and (Y/n) couldn't do anything but watch as karma came to bite her in the ass.

"It's bad enough that he idolises Ben, but you let him take Harvey out last week. What if something happened? What do we do when he eventually finds out what Ben's like?"

Joe slipped his jacket from his shoulders but his eyes stayed solely focused on (Y/n), waiting for her response and her reaction to his words. He wasn't intending to rile her up but he couldn't help how it was already annoying him. His little brother was dangerous and if it wasn't enough that Harvey was so fond of Ben it was worse that he had been out with Ben when he had only just come out of prison. Joe didn't trust his brother as far as he could throw him even if he was trying to make amends and stop the bridges from burning between them.

"For God's sake Joe it wasn't like Ben stole him, I went with them and nothing would have happened anyway because Ben adores him. And as far as I'm concerned he doesn't find out unless you want to be the one to break it to him."

(Y/n) found herself debating whether to say that Ben loved Harvey but she quickly decided against it. Even if it seemed true, Ben's kind of love was twisted and corrupted and she couldn't bare to think that Ben felt that kind of love for Harvey. It was better to think he adored him rather than loved him.

It was clear that Ben wouldn't hurt Harvey, he won't put him in danger or scare him or get violent towards him in any way and that was clear to everyone. But because Ben was dangerous no one wanted him around Harvey and (Y/n) especially didn't because Ben was a lethal weapon and he could ruin Harvey's life. He could tell him he was his dad and when Harvey eventually found out what Ben was like it would confuse, scare and torment him until all he could think of was that he was going to turn out like Ben. (Y/n) wanted her son safe and protected and thinking Joe was his dad and keeping him as far away from Ben as possible was the best way she could think to do that.

"We both know what Ben's like, sorry for wanting Harvey away from that."

(Y/n)'s eyes followed Joe but her body went in a different direction until she was walking into the kitchen to get herself a drink. They were here for a family dinner since it was Sunday and they hadn't all been together for a while but (Y/n) had a distinct feeling that Ben was going to turn up. He was always invited no matter what crime he had committed or how badly he was bruised and beaten up. Coming out of prison meant nothing to his parents because they were simply too afraid to lose their youngest son.

Cutting Ben out of the family wasn't an option, everyone loved him too much to do that. Even when (Y/n) tried to cut her ties with him he just kept crawling back out of the shadows until it was impossible not to think about him, let alone go without seeing him for a day or a week.

"Hey... Harvey said you've seen Ben, how is he?"

The drink in (Y/n)'s hand was set down after she'd downed half of it when Lucy's voice flooded her ears. When she turned her head to look over at Lucy (Y/n) felt her stomach constricting at the worried look on her face. Joe and Ben had never been the closest of siblings but Lucy and Ben had always been close in a way that reminded (Y/n) of twins. It didn't matter what Ben did or how cruel and twisted he became, Lucy still cared about him and it gave Ben an advantage and something to play on whenever he felt like it.

Lucy leaned her side against the kitchen counter as her lips curved into a soft but concerned smile. Her short platinum hair was crimped into small waves and curls which framed sweetly around her face and the black eyeliner and eyeshadow she had on framed her blue eyes.

Even though she had no idea just how close Ben was to (Y/n), Lucy did know that her brother was rather close to (Y/n), almost like he had an infatuation with her.

"He's... how he normally is. You'd think he was back from a holiday rather than prison, put it that way." There were no words in (Y/n)'s vocabulary right now to explain just how Ben had acted and how he seemed when he visited her last week. Cheeky didn't cover it at all and even though he put (Y/n) on edge, he wasn't on edge himself, he was right where he wanted to be in terms of his comfort zone.

"I suppose that's better, considering how he was when he was released a few years ago." Lucy's words were spoken as she had a faraway look in her eyes causing her to miss the way (Y/n) shivered, knowing exactly what time Lucy was referring to.

It did seem better that Ben was happy and his usual self when he was released rather than bearing a grudge for something because he could be ruthless when he wanted and no one got spared when he was like that. The time Lucy was referring to was when Ben had done six months in prison and came out like Lucifer being released from Hell because he'd been away when Harvey was born. He had wanted to be there when his son was born and it had put him on the warpath that everyone was congratulating Joe and singing his praises when it wasn't even his child.

"Oh, thank you, by the way."

"What for?" A feeling of dread started to slowly build up in the pit of (Y/n)'s stomach because even though Lucy's words and her smile were genuine, she had the same look about her that Ben did. Ben smiled and played innocent when he was about to unleash Hell onto (Y/n) and that shared look made her fear that one day Lucy was going to turn around and shatter her world with a few simple words just like her brother.

"For letting Ben see Harvey. Joe and dad are adamant that he shouldn't but Ben loves spending time with him, it means a lot to him that you let him see Harvey and you never turn him away."

(Y/n) knew she was overthinking what Lucy was saying, but she couldn't help but feel like Lucy knew more than she was letting on. It felt like she was hinting at the truth which no one else should know and it made (Y/n)'s skin crawl and her heart beat faster in her chest. She knew that if Lucy did know the sordid truth, she would never be able to stay quiet about it because her conscience would never allow her to. She was being nice and understanding right now but (Y/n) couldn't help but read more into what she was saying because she was always on edge.

Ben made her anxious and nervous and she knew the catastrophe that would occur if people found out she'd had an affair with Ben and that he was Harvey's dad.

"Harvey adores him, I can't really say no."

(Y/n) couldn't turn Ben away either, he never let her.

Sweat started to prickle on (Y/n)'s skin when Lucy rested her hand on her arm for a second before she left the kitchen, presumably to go and talk to Joe or their parents. It would have been so much easier if Ben wasn't Joe's brother, if he was a stranger to them all so that (Y/n) never had to feel like whenever she saw their family she worried she would be caught out. She felt like a criminal, as if she had committed a crime with Ben and he was going to expose her because he didn't care if they knew or not.

Ben would rather the whole world know that Harvey was his boy and that he had (Y/n) under his spell, wrapped around his little finger. But he didn't say anything because of (Y/n) and what it would do to Harvey if he found out.

It felt like a lifetime had passed where (Y/n) stood drowning in her thoughts and the glass of juice that was almost empty. She knew soon enough that she would have to go and talk to Joe's parents and make her presence known, she also had to find out what Harvey was up to. But (Y/n) didn't get a chance to dwell on the thought of mingling with relatives before an arm suddenly curled around her waist.

For a split second, (Y/n) thought Joe was trying to cling to her like he did whenever they argued to get back into her good books. But when she felt the arm tighten and press into her hips, her eyes darted down to look at the hand. When she saw the roman numerals on each knuckle she knew it wasn't Joe standing behind her and as soon as a tall frame pressed up to her back it was as clear as day who was behind her.

"You look surprised, did you think I wouldn't turn up to see my family?"

When Ben's words were whispered in her ear (Y/n) shivered as her eyes darted around the kitchen to double check that no one was hovering in the doorway bearing witness to their infidelity. It wasn't like (Y/n) wanted to do this, Ben knew how anxious he made her and he knew that trying to be affectionate to her where they could get caught was only going to make her have a panic attack.

All the words got caught in (Y/n)'s throat and then swallowed down when she felt Ben pressing butterfly kisses to her neck until she tensed her shoulders and didn't tilt her head to give him more access. But her denial didn't bother him one bit for he simply leaned his temple against her cheek causing his hair to tickle her skin before he nudged her head until he has as much access to her neck as he wanted. He was like a vampire getting ready to strike.

"Someone will see." (Y/n) hissed the words like a snake but her tone made no difference because Ben only smiled against her skin.

"I'm counting on it, maybe then I don't have to sneak around you. Where's Harvey, I wanna see him." Ben sounded so authoritiative and demanding because he expected to get what he wanted and he knew (Y/n) would always give in to him.

A shiver ran down (Y/n)'s spine at Ben's words that made her stomach twist itself into knots. He didn't sound like he was asking (Y/n) if he could see Harvey, he was giving her a demand that he wanted to and therefore he was going to get what he wanted. Ben knew well enough to know that (Y/n) barely ever managed to go against him, she could always say no to him but her actions never followed through with her words. Ben got his own way and everyone else allowed it because going against him was too hard.

She didn't want him to see Harvey. She didn't want her son getting even more attached to someone who was known to break people. But (Y/n) couldn't stop Ben from seeing Harvey or he would have no problem making things a Hell of a lot worse for (Y/n).

"H-he's here somewhere-" (Y/n) barely got three words out before a gasp left her breathless lungs and she froze in place when she felt Ben's teeth grazing against her neck just below her jaw. "Ben no!" She kept her words quiet in case someone heard when passing the kitchen and she was already surprised no one had walked in yet. She couldn't have Ben trying to leave marks on her skin because everyone would see and Joe would know he didn't leave those marks there.

"Worried your little hubby will know these are my marks, not his?"

"Please." (Y/n) dug her nails into the counter when Ben bit her neck before leaning back up, a sign that he wasn't going to tease her anymore, at least not by leaving any marks on her.

"Oh baby, don't worry I won't leave any marks until I've got you alone." He could feel how his words made (Y/n) shiver and they both knew it wasn't in a bad way. "Now, where's my boy?"

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Anxiety pummelled through (Y/n) to the point her body was shaking and she was coming over in a cold sweat. The phone call she received two days ago made her blood run cold and scared the flesh from her bones to the point she really didn't want to come here, but she didn't have a choice.

(Y/n) had no idea what Ben had called her about but it sounded serious and the dark tone of his voice told her that when he called her his face was one she was thankful not to see. He had been in prison for just over a month now and (Y/n) hadn't heard a thing from him until two days ago, not that she was really expecting to hear anything from him. He had been in prison before and never called her, but they'd never had an affair the last time he was behind bars.

He rang her at eight at night and shouted down the phone until she was in tears, demanding she come and see him within three days or he'd be calling Joe and telling him about their affair. (Y/n) had no idea what had rattled Ben so much but she knew his threat was real which was why she was waiting now to be taken to see him.

The moment Ben came into sight (Y/n) felt herself shaking worse and she was surprised the guard on her left hadn't pulled her to one side and asked if she was okay.

When Ben noticed her (Y/n) could see the anger in his eyes directed at her in a way she had never seen before. He had been cheeky, snide, dark and sometimes worrying around her but he was never frightening like he seemed right now. (Y/n) felt her heartbeat drumming in her ears as she slowly sat down opposite Ben who looked like he didn't know whether to sit or stand. He had his arms leaning on the reflective table, his hands gripped so tightly together that his knuckles were white despite the tattoos.

"Is it true?"

Ben's eyes were darker than (Y/n) had ever seen them before and she was sure his jaw was going to snap with how tight it was held in place. He leaned over the table until he was sneering at her like a rabid dog that was about to snap and bite her.

"What... Ben I- I don't know what you mean, I don't know why you called me or threatened me like that. What do you think I've done?"

(Y/n) didn't know what she was expecting today but she didn't think he would dive right into accusing her of something. She felt compelled to ask if he was okay, how he was coping, what he actually did this time to land himself back into the place that was becoming his second home. But he had no bruises or broken bones or marks so she guessed he wasn't fighting and was therefore doing okay. And he never told anyone why he got arrested, usually no one wanted to know.

"I talked to Lucy the other day, and she told me your pregnant. Tell me it's not true." His words were quiet but there was no missing the cold tone to his voice or the venom that was on his tongue as he spoke.

There was a burning intensity in Ben's eyes as he watched the emotions flood through (Y/n)'s eyes. She tried hard to stop her eyes from glossing over as her arms wrapped around her chest like she was trying to cut off her breathing and her circulation. She didn't think her and Joe were going to be telling anyone right now but he had clearly confided in Lucy that they were having a baby and she thought it was common knowledge. And with how close she was to Ben it was only natural she was going to talk to him about it because she knew he was friends with (Y/n).

"You want me to lie to you?" (Y/n) curled in on herself when Ben's upper lip curled and he snarled as his eyes narrowed darkly.

"We're you going to tell me?"

"We would have told you when we told everyone else, I didn't know Joe told Lucy-"

"That's not what I asked. I said, when were you going to tell me?" Ben curled his left hand into a fist barring his index finger which he tapped against the table like he was making a point or demanding something from her, which essentially he was.

But (Y/n) couldn't give him an answer because she didn't have one. Ben would have been told by Joe or Lucy or their parents soon enough just like he already had been but (Y/n) wouldn't have told him herself. She couldn't have pushed herself to tell him and she didn't even think she would ever get a phone call off him, let alone come to prison and actually visit him. Never before had she stepped inside a prison and she didn't know if she ever would again. But (Y/n) wondered deep down that if Ben ever got put back in prison and he called, maybe she would come running. She came today because he put the fear of God into her over the phone, but if he was kind and determined like he normally was with her she might have visited him then too.

"You're shitting me, right? You've slept with me for the last year and you don't think to mention you're now pregnant? You think I don't deserve to know you're having my kid?"

"Did Lucy say it was yours?" (Y/n) didn't know where the sudden bolt of courage came from that allowed her to use her voice properly and sit up straight in her chair but the courage disappeared the moment Ben's expression changed. He knew his sister clearly assumed it was (Y/n) and Joe expecting a baby but Ben just knew this was his child. He was the one (Y/n) had been sneaking around and sleeping with for near on a year now so it went without saying that there was a ninety percent chance this was his baby.

"I don't believe that after all the times I fucked you, you went straight home to my inferior brother and slept with him too, or else why would you keep coming back to me? Now you tell me the fucking truth and stop lying to both of us. How many months gone are you and do you honestly believe that's his kid and not mine?"

"I came here because at eight at night you blackmailed me and scared the shit out of me. Who threatens someone down the phone and then shouts at them when they go out of their way to see you? You're in prison Ben, do you get that? You're supposed to be here for the next two years and you think you should have a baby?"

"If you don't answer my questions I will walk away from you right now and the next phone call I make will tell my brother each and every time, place and date where I fucked you behind his back. I have no problem with him finding out that he's so useless, tiring and inferior that you turned to me and still can't help yourself. You want him to know everything we've done behind his tiny little back?"

(Y/n) couldn't hold back the tears that fell from her eyes at his cruel, sadistic words.

There was no fear, remorse or pain in his voice. He was deathly serious that if (Y/n) didn't tell him what he wanted to hear then he would use his threats against her to break his big brother's world into shattered pieces and crush (Y/n) in the process without a second thought.

Ben didn't even care how badly he was upsetting and hurting (Y/n) right now. He had never been like this with her and it was frightening, even with the guards dotted around the large room to protect everyone, (Y/n) still didn't feel safe. Ben had never hurt her before but she knew how cruel he could be and right now she wouldn't put it past him that he might turn to violence with how cruel he was being and how tormented he seemed.

"I'm four months along, and it doesn't matter that I... I know it's your baby. You're in prison, you kill people and frankly sometimes you can be a monster, no child should have someone like you as their dad. As far as everyone knows, this is Joe's baby and you will keep it that way because you are stuck in here. No one will believe you if you tell them and if you do then I can promise your sadistic ass you will not see me or this baby for as long as you live."

(Y/n) knew this was Ben's baby and that thought scared her to the bone because she didn't want her child to grow up with the same sadistic tendencies and gruesome thoughts and actions that Ben did. If her child turned out like the man sitting in front of her (Y/n) would go beside herself and her mind would shatter.

But if her baby grew up with someone like Joe as their dad then those tendencies might never come about and they could have a childhood where they were never afraid of their dad or bullied for who their dad was.

She almost lost herself in thought until Ben slammed his fist down on the table so suddenly and forcefully that (Y/n) jumped back in her seat and recoiled into herself. Her eyes were blown wide with fear as she watched Ben hold his hands up in defence so the guard didn't come over and restrain him for showing an inch of the anger he felt inside of him.

"You have the nerve to call me sadistic? You sleep with me, you sneak around behind my brother's back and then go home to him and pretend that he's enough for you. And now you're telling me you plan to pretend my child his his?"

"You had an affair with your brother's girlfriend and you murder people like you're killing a spider. You fucked me, that doesn't make you a dad which is something you should never be."

(Y/n) watched the way Ben's eyes darted from her eyes down to her stomach that was visibly round beneath her shirt that did nothing to hide it. The more he looked at her stomach, the faster his finger started to tap against the table until he was hitting out a brutal beat that got harder and harder until it felt like he was hammering a nail right through her stomach. She had riled him up, something (Y/n) never wanted to do and she knew if she said one more damning thing to him he would explode.

"Lying to Joe doesn't make him a dad either. Trick yourself all you want but I'm not hiding the fact that you're having my baby, not his. That's my child."

"Too bad no one will ever know that. Goodbye Ben."

(Y/n) pushed herself up from her seat and placed her bag on her shoulder, watching with burning intensity in her eyes as Ben stood up but looked like he wanted to grab her or even shout at her for this. He wasn't finished talking but she wasn't going to continue this pointless conversation any longer. Ben was going to be here for months and (Y/n) wasn't waiting around for him or ruining the life she had just because Ben was too obsessive to let her go. She was going to do something cruel to Joe by lying to him but it was for her baby, not for herself. She couldn't let her baby have Ben as their father and she knew Ben wasn't going to tell because he risked never seeing his child and losing (Y/n).

"You fucking bitch!"

The way Ben almost screamed his tormenting words made (Y/n) stumble back into her chair. She had never seen such rage in someone's eyes before that was directed fully and completely towards her. He looked like she had just told him she had cheated on him with his brother and was having his brother's baby rather than it being the mirrored way around.

There was no time for (Y/n) to back away or scream or even to try and ask Ben to calm down before he grasped the edge of the table and flung it on its side out of rage. (Y/n) half expected him to turn into the hulk at any moment and crush her in the palm of his hand. The tears that fell from her eyes and the shaking in her system didn't impact on him one bit when usually he would have broken down for seeing how he was petrifying her. Ben liked to tease and make her anxious and he didn't normally back down but he had never made her feel afraid for any reason and she had never been scared of him before now.

Guards were alerted from Ben's harsh outburst but they didn't get to him before he took two steps and got to (Y/n). His hands clamped down on her upper arms and pulled her until she stumbled over her uncoordinated feet and into his chest.

"You're fucking lucky your pregnant right now. That's my baby and you can't change that, lying to yourself doesn't make it his child it makes it a murderer's baby and you'll never live that down."

(Y/n) couldn't tell if Ben was shaking her or if she was trembling but either way she felt like she was going to be sick and when Ben's hand held her chin bruisingly she sobbed until someone ripped him off her and another guard pulled her a safe distance away.

She watched in terror and pain as three guards had to pull Ben away and pin him down to the ground when he kicked out at a chair, forcefully and precisely smashed his foot into a guard's chest and then clamped his arm around the poor guard's neck to choke him. Ben flung his head back into a guard's head until he heard the man's nose snap but he didn't manage to do more than push himself onto all fours before he was forced back onto his chest with his arms held behind his back.

(Y/n) didn't know how long Ben would actually spend in prison but she knew it was never going to be long enough for her to cope with what he had just said and done.

She didn't want him in her child's life.

[dreaming-of-assclass]

AssClass OC

Mai’s Relationships: Part 1

I’m procrastinating on homework and decided to work on this random ass post about my OC 😂

Her profile is linked here UwU

Warning: this is extremely long and detailed

Tomohito Sugino

Address each other as: “Tomohito” or “Domo” and “Mai”

(The Domo nickname is inspired by one of Fumiko’s ideas UwU)

Besties. Nothing can ever change that. He was the first friend she made when she transferred to Kunugigaoka in 2nd year, and they’ve stuck together since then.

Although their very first meeting was a little unconventional...Sugino almost accidentally hit her with a baseball and she almost threw hands hehe. But they got along instantly after that.

They bonded with similar outgoing, positive personalities and a shared fondness for sports. They hang out all the time and have become so comfortable with each other, they can just randomly show up to each other’s house. Sugino’s family basically adopted Mai, and her family loves him. It’s common to see these two hanging out at a corner store, tossing baseballs at each other to catch, sending memes in class, etc.

Mai is very defensive of him, and will absolutely speak up about his baseball skill, kind nature, leadership, etc. She even stays by his side during the baseball arc to support him. Nakamura calls them platonic soulmates, and both of them honestly agree.

They bicker sometimes since they both can be fiery, but it’s out of fun 95% of the time. The rare occasions they seriously fight are because of Sugino’s overprotective nature/patronizing, and Mai’s clinginess and tendency to get jealous. But regardless of any differences, they will always have each other’s backs. Chaotic besties forever.

Yukiko Kanzaki

Address each other as: “Yukiko” and “Mai”

They did not get off to a good start...it was rather rocky. They just didn’t have good impressions of each other, and neither cared to truly get to know the other. Kanzaki thought Mai was hyper, brash, and difficult. Mai thought Kanzaki was stuck-up and vain because of her idol status. The girls avoided each other, and Mai was less than ecstatic to hear about Sugino’s crush. 

Finally they’re forced to spend time together during the Kyoto trip, when Group 4 forms. They begin to get along more and find a couple shared interests, the ice slowly breaking. Then the kidnapping happens, and Mai stays with the boys and Okuda to find them. Mai is given a job to discreetly locate the girls inside the warehouse and basically figure out it’s layout. She sneaks in and sees the girls, and unintentionally hears Kanzaki’s secret about her 2nd year gaming phase, and is shocked. But now she feels more understanding for her. Mai and the guys and Okuda save the girls, and she especially approaches Kanzaki, making sure she’s okay. Kanzaki opens up to the whole group about liking video games and such. 

Later that night at the hotel, Mai admits to Kanzaki that she overheard her family story and rebellious phase without meaning to. Kanzaki says it’s okay, and thanks her for saving them, and for understanding. They both admit they had misconceptions about each other, but see that they’re not true. 

The girls have an extremely close friendship after that, sharing interests in video games, e-girl fashion, etc. Mai’s competitive nature dies every time she plays against Kanzaki and gets completely owned and teased. They hang out a lot, and Kanzaki comes to basically live at Mai’s home, with how often she’s there. They’re the type of friends to sneak out of an important meeting to play games and talk together. They both become very protective of each other, and grow to think of each other as family.

They definitely balance each other out in terms of personalities and attitudes. Kanzaki is more calm and rational compared to Mai’s bold and outspoken self. Mai’s open-book nature contrasting against Kanzaki’s aloof image. Even if these differences can lead to some clashes, they both appreciate it a lot, and value each other’s views.

Also they definitely try to help each other with their best/worst subjects. Kanzaki trying to help Mai with Japanese work is the funniest thing to see because eventually they just mutually give up and move onto video games.

Hinata Okano

Address each other as: “Hinata” and “Mai”

These two are like two halves. Plain and simple. They hit it off super well on the first day of meeting each other, which was in 3-E. Well, it’s more like Mai wouldn’t stop bothering her or starting up conversation lmao. But they had instant chemistry, especially when around mutual close friends like Kayano and Maehara. 

As soon as she realized they had the same birthday, Mai happily declared them to be sisters, and nothing would ever change that. Okano rolled her eyes, but secretly loved it. Okano uses that against her, saying that “Since she’s the older sister, do as she says.” But Mai always retorts with “But I’m taller.” 

They’re extremely close, and bond over so many things. Being sporty, liking skate-boarding, teasing Maehara, etc. They’re definitely each other’s go-to person for venting and confiding in, since they somehow are almost always on the same wavelength.

They can get into bad arguments though, given their similar temperaments. But it’s over in 2.5 seconds, and after screaming at each other, they’re laughing at memes together.

They love challenging each other in PE and assassination-related things since they have pretty similar styles. They love when they get partnered together, although it’s not as common as they’d like. Overall just an adorably vicious combo of short-tempered cuties.

Justice Kimura

Address each other as: “Kimura” and “Mai”

Oh boy. Whenever these two are around each other, they just become a wild gremlin duo. They equally enable each other when it comes to being chaotic. They’re just really good friends who can be playful with each other. 

They became friends and got to know each other mainly thanks to PE and mutual friends like the class athletes. Before they knew it, they started to just hang out without others, they vibed so well.

Kimura lives to make Mai burst out laughing with his random edgy jokes and humor. There’s just always a lot of laughter whenever these two are together. 

That said, Mai is not immune to Kimura’s worst antics, like the parkour incident. For the first time, she gets so upset at him but after yelling her head off like he expects, she just crumples to the floor and cries. She really needed that good grade to show her mom, and because Gakushuu had spent so much time tutoring her...

Kimura feels like shit and apologizes, and they don’t talk for a couple days. Mai definitely forgives him and moves past it though. Sometime during watching the kids at the school, she hugs him and apologizes for going off on him. Kimura says it’s okay since he was being a selfish idiot in the first place. Their friendship goes back to normal UwU.

Mai loves to tease Kimura for A LOT of reasons, but his name is never one of them. She calls him “Shorty,” “Dumpling,” and always pinches his chubby cheeks, to his annoyance. She definitely roasts him whenever he pulls some harmless stupid stunt that results in disaster. But on a serious note, she’s his biggest hype-man and always cheers him on in PE and in schoolwork. If anyone makes fun of his name, she absolutely will deck them.

Karma Akabane

Address each other as: “Karma” and “May-chan”

Almost everyone was nervous on his first day, and how these would inevitably meet. The class was certain that Karma would test Mai’s already-thin patience, and they wouldn’t get along.

But to their surprise...these two did get along. Really well, actually.

Mai, a natural moodmaker and very open-minded girl, appreciated Karma’s quirks and the odd mystery surrounding everything he did. She thought he made an already weird-situation even wackier and more interesting. She also couldn’t help but have respect for how successful he was at his first try, although it was buried under her envy.

Karma in turn also appreciated her, and how she was so easy to read. Mai is literally an open book, which Karma gravitates towards. In the first ten minutes of meeting her, he realized she was totally fun to tease because of how irritated and snappy she’d get. Hence, their friendship formed and Karma teases her every single day. He also calls her “May-chan” in a very exaggerated American accent since her name is commonly mispronounced like that, and it’s the quickest way to annoy her.

Overall, these two are really good friends, but definitely in a very sibling-like manner. They make fun of each other a lot, but would murder anyone else (outside of 3-E) who dares to. Even though they’re around the same age, it sometimes feels as though Mai is his younger sister. She loves to drag him around by the arm sleeve or wrist, for no other reason to drive him crazy. Also, they both are strawberry snack enthusiasts, which they bond over. Occasionally, Mai will assist him in his pranks, just to try and make sure she doesn’t become the target of one. Nope, she still is. She’s either entertained by or tired of his shit. 

Also...these two clash a bit in Civil War, because Karma’s vagueness really frustrates her. In general, Mai tries to keep an open perspective of the issues surrounding Group 4 leading up to Civil War, so she’s not completely pissed at him. But she does call him out and speak to him upfront about what problems he’s causing.

Don’t worry, their relationship definitely improves afterwards, once everyone receives some closure. Their teasing sibling-like dynamic continues to stay throughout high school and in the future. 

[sir-huffman]

tagged by: @songzhong​ (hello, here’s a wall of text, and I enjoyed reading about you Mao!) tagging: @you on the dash - aka you see this you’re tagged.

———  BASICS!​

Name: Duke ( any pronouns, but most use masculine  )

Face Claims:       - Itsuki Kamiyama from GOTH (professional like above)       - Suga from Night of Drizzling Rain (general)

———  THREE  FACTS!

1) I am an ISTJ and a Taurus...so take that what you will. I’d like to say I’m friendly, but tend to put a very large wall (of text) up so people know what they’re getting into with me and to give an explanation for my actions...as such I am very introverted and only have so much energy for interaction. This leaves me seldom to contact people in the RPC unless I have a specific idea in mind for our muses...which honestly I never do. The best is for me to just chuck a meme at people and see how our muses vibe. After that, well uh...yeah. I’m one of those RPers who have more people I interact IC than OOC cuz OOC interaction takes a lot out of me unless we somehow vibe well.

And by vibe well, I mean our muses generally interact well and aren’t apathetic towards each other. There are so many muns that I respect and consider friends and admire from afar, but we’re not close due to just our muses just not vibing as well as others (which is totes fine it’s just how things sometimes go, ya know?).

( you’ll find that I write a lot hence the read more )

2) I am very stubborn and have a little bit of tunnel vision in my own HCs and world crafting. My muses tend to be people who hold an authoritative and demanding presence where their opinions are stated as truth...which is the complete opposite of my own personality. But I’ve learned that I have to kinda draw my lines and I feel like I can probably give people whiplash between my timid and nervous nature and when it comes to defining my muses. Honestly I’m just very flexible with molding my muses to help fit for interaction, but I do have hard lines and like to make it clear if I’m bending my characters vs how they would naturally act...I tend to make my muses push overs unless I’m like 100% comfy...and even them I make them push overs...hence the amount of my crack threads because I have no sense control and just wanna have fun...with my tight assed muses.

3) That said...I’m just a meme. My main reputation is just being that one mun who RPs a Team Rocket OC with 6 Magikarps. But I truly just have two sides. The very crackish side where (1) I’ll just throw our muses in ridiculous situations and (2) the very angst heavy side that usually only talked about due to my muses handling trauma and very apathetic and nonchalant towards breaking hearts. And as I write this out I feel like I’m giving people whiplash on whoever is reading this since they see Huffman here and is like “oh, how cute what a soft boy” and then I bring up Morax who is just a monstrosity of a muse where I’m toning him down 99% of the time because...well...(*looks at hands*) he’ll end up killing a muse 99% of the time if I don’t stop him and that isn’t fun to RP.

———  EXPERIENCE!

My first experience in RPing in general was on an old website called TinierMe and also a mobile app called VampiresLIVE (lol). However I officially started RPing on Tumblr in 2014 as a Gijinka!Groudon blog originally known as theruleroftheland. After that I’ve slowly branched out of the Pokemon RPC but hold a strong connection with the friends I’ve made there (or kinda, I’m horrible at keeping contact with others since I disappear for months/years at a time). But I’ve found I’m most comfortable writing on tumblr due to the amount of formatting and organization that comes with RPing on here.

I’m slowly branching out to Discord (thank you to my dear RP partners over there who are patient with me because I’m slow) and becoming more accustom with being social over there.

———  MUSE  PREFERENCE!

Gender: 100% male to RP as. I find that I gravitate towards males since I have disconnection with male muses from myself and I like having that wall. Writing females get a little too personal for my own comfort so having that extra layer of distance really helps. Also it helps me look at things differently.

Multi or Single: 

I prefer single-muse blogs to run as I like keeping things strictly relating to my muse on one blog and another muse on another. Over the years I’ve been interested in throwing my old muses onto a multi-muse blog but honestly I can never bring myself making a multi-fandom multi-muse blog due to my own heavy need for organization.

As for shipping, I work under what I call a Quasi-Single shipping (aka multi- and single- ship). I operate under the impression that my muses are in an overarching timeline of their life that is heavily affected by their relationships. As such the MULTISHIP aspect is prone to have cheating and relationship overlap. I’m into having muses naturally engage in threesomes, foursomes, lying, cheating, misunderstandings, fights, break ups, get back togethers, etc. with all muses and muns participating together in the joy of it all. Jealousy and questioning of my muses’ relationships and actions are welcomed as I like having the sense that my muses are human and things aren’t so cookie cutter.

That said I am also SINGLESHIP in the sense that most of my muses are not polyamorous and are very much interested in having an end goal relationship where they settle down and marry. With who and how that happens really depends on both my muse and my partner’s muse. So whoever my muse is really shooting to get married to and actively advances will be my main single ship partner...or really whoever is going to influence my muse the most and I can see my muse actually yearning for (which honestly isn’t that many muses *cries*).

That said...Huffman in particular is going to be really hard to single-ship with as he is 100% dedicated his entire life to his lord and savior Lord Barbatos and this is the thanks he gets to Mondstadt and he will betray his own lover and such for Mondstadt.

He is also a(ego)romantic so he has a huge disconnection with serious relationships as he will honestly treat them just like he treats every other citizen in Mondstadt and it can slowly get to any of his partners since he just thinks is just apart of his job as a partner...which is the same job he has with the people of Mondstadt.

fluff/angst/smut:

Fluff: Generally I don’t find myself interested in fluff, but I realized that is only because of my previous muses couldn’t handle fluff at all. For this particular blog (Huffman) fluff is honestly the only thing that I can offer due to the nature of his character. Fluff with the undertone of angst is going to happen a lot, it’s not going to be sugary sweet fluff but just a result of Huffman’s very grounded and relaxed nature. He is calm and level headed, very rational (a little too rational) and very determined to make sure everyone is happy...and as such angst won’t really happen because Huffman tries to avoid such things naturally.

Angst: I enjoy angst, I’m that person who loves crying and my favorite tropes (especially in shipping) is unrequited love especially when it’s with a character who has so much love and dedication to one person. As such, I find that I’m more inclined to talk about angst than actually RPing it. I’m very slow (really really slow) when it comes to RPing unless it’s crack or relaxed banter. So when it comes to angst, I like to set time aside and fully write it out...making me having to respond weeks to months later...haha sorry. Also I naturally have muses who are apathetic towards angst and other muses feelings that is hard for me to write because I’m the opposite and I get heavily invested...it takes a lot out of me.

That said...most of my angst comes from very slow burns rather than actually writing it out. It’s more of the anticipation of the heartache, breakup, betrayal, cheating, etc. that I’m more inclined to talk about than actually RP...as stated above my muses are generally cold hearted and very accepting of any consequence to their actions...they tend to be planners and expect karma to creep up on them someday.

Smut: I am very particular about smut. I personally like talking about it but actually writing it takes a lot more time for me to do. There are some words that I refuse to write (which happens to be a lot of the smutty words lol) due to how I read them in my head irks me and doesn’t flow right (my worst subject in school was English so I don’t know many words okay). As such, it takes time for me to fully write smut and even then the way I tackle it is very action oriented rather than immersive (I like to think) so uh...RIP my rp partners who want to write smut since I usually respond when I’m half asleep and have no filter and probably stare at me like “wtf did I just read?”. I’m sorry my smut partners who have to deal with me.

plot/ memes:

Memes: I’m more inclined to send memes than actually get around to responding to them. I like keeping my thread count low because I’m slow and usually memes require immediate interaction (something that I may or may not have the time for). However, most of my threads come from memes that will fizzle out over time and I eventually drop without warning- it just how it goes.

Plots: I like plotting and defining pre-established relationships. Having to start everyone off with a blank slate isn’t something I like unless it just seems natural for our muses (ie. for Huffman he probs doesn’t know many Liyue characters, but he definitely is close to Mondstadt characters at least on a name basis). As such, I tend to like establishing relationships and then going from there so I know how Huffman will interact with them.

Plotted threads, however, take a lot out of me as I like coining an idea and then having a starter be written and then go from there. If there are checkpoints to happen, I get awkward because my muses are 95% certain to shift the narrative based on what is being written and the situation that arises. So heavily plotted threads isn’t good, but defining the trajectory of a relationship is something I’m down for...mostly because I’m a quasi-single ship and 99% of my muses relationships are going to fail naturally - which is something hard to bring up when there is ship talking happen.

[vapcrwaves]

━♡ guess the 24 YEAR OLD JULY baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because AOKI IMOJEN is just as BLAZING as the month of JULY. wait, why do they remind me of HIRAI MOMO? beyond that, they seemed SELF-RELIANT & BUOYANT upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of INSURGENT & RECKLESS though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX # 3 / APARTMENT # 2 / FLOOR # 2 ; they seem to have a lot going on with HER job as TATTOO ARTIST / BASSIST. 

bonjour , y’all !! my name’s jade ( she/her , twenty-one , gmt+8 ) !! and i’m super excited to meet and write with everyone !! this is my spunky kid , imojen , and i hope you’ll come to enjoy her as much as i did writing everything about her :D if you wanna plot , do not fret because i’ll be dropping in everyone’s IMs hehe , but if you prefer to plot over at discord , don’t hesitate to tell me !! <3 

*   𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊   ╱  ʙᴀꜱɪᴄꜱ   .

name  :  aoki imojen  nicknames  :  yoki , jen . age  :  twenty - four . birthday  :  july 27 , 1996 . zodiac  :  leo sun , aquarius moon , sagittarius rising . place of birth  :  tokyo , japan . currently living  :  seoul , south korea . occupation  :  tattoo artist , bassist . pronouns  :  she / her . orientation  :  bisexual biromantic . ethnicity  :  japanese .  spoken languages  :   japanese , korean , english .  character insp.  :  kat stratford from 10 things i hate about you , bridget vreeland from sisterhood of traveling pants , effy stonem from skins uk , young carol rhodes from gossip girl tv series , rhonda smith , mia’s backstory from if i stay . label  /  tropes  :  hoyden , icarian , insurgent , reveller , the rebellious spirit . pinterest  :  here .  aesthetics  :   scared of commitment , but has 7 tattoos. a habit of endlessly lighting a lighter. platform boots to boost your height. but then again, sneakers for comfort while running from the cops. forgetting to discard empty cigarette packets from your bomber jacket. spilling your fifth espresso onto your drawings and designs , maybe it’s time to sleep. a frightening look on your face which millennials like to call a resting bitch face. the heat ruining your collection of leather jackets. finding comfort in your friends who seem to understand your mood swings. having a pet cat who’s as feisty as you. spontaneous adventures live inside your head and your friends fall victim to those ideas. liking the rays of the sun more than the moon despite being a night owl. oversleeps anyway. trimming your bangs yourself because you couldn’t be bothered to go to the salon. overcooking your sunny side up eggs. sleeping to forget problems. drinking to forget problems. epitome of a ride or die. 

*  𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗    ╱  ᴘᴀꜱᴛ   .

aoki imojen was born to understand what it was to live a life with no structure. her father was part of a rising band in the 90s, toured all over small venues in japan that they slowly rose to a known local name, and imojen has seen all the chaos unfold from backstage in the arms of her mom. however, slowly transitioning into the year of 2000s, the economy was still struggling from the lost decade and the income from touring never sufficed for a growing family. imojen’s father was forced to leave the music scene with the help of her mother’s influence: “it’s time to be serious”; and work multiple jobs in order to fully provide for his first child and the another growing one inside his wife’s womb. 

growing up, imojen’s no stranger to music and her father loved to introduce rock music and bands to imojen’s upbringing. she adored b’z and the gazette, and it leaves no doubt that imojen’s father had been her greatest influence in life. as she grew older, not only did they share identical music preferences and influences, but imojen’s learned to play various instruments— the bass being her favorite. imojen’s also stemmed from that infamous reckless behavior his father’s known for back in the day, and when the teenage years came, so did the impetuous reputation begin. 

imojen and her mother aren’t exactly as close as she was with her father. in fact, their relationship was a toe out of the civil line. it got worse when imojen started to focus on the band she created with friends instead of school and late night practices turned to never returning home for a few days and having the audacity to blatantly lie when asked where she was when asked. it’s hard not to blame her mother when she assumed things for the worst. imojen’s gone quite defiant especially when she discovered that her and her father’s relationship had began to run askew. imojen blames her mother’s interference with her father’s music career as much as her father did, she loved him so much that she was completely blindsided to always take his side. and when the divorce papers came and went, imojen chose her father as she always would. 

her father got a job as a musician locally and eventually overseas, however, money didn’t come by so fast and easy initially. instead of going to university, imojen invested in learning the arts in tattoo design and worked as a tattoo artist to help with the bills. the pair finally thought to settle in korea when imojen’s father got a permanent job. and at this time, imojen has decided to try pursue a career as a musician as well, hoping that the thrill in her early band days are still well stored in her system. 

*  𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗    ╱  ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛ   .

imojen can never be satisfied of living in the same area for so long, or at least under the roof with the watchful eye of her father. work’s payed well and imojen decided to move out and get an apartment of her own. hence, she found dallyeog, parties almost every single day, drags everyone into spontaneous adventures, comes home terribly drunk and wakes up with a huge hangover—well, still pretty normal. aside from the norm, imojen working at the tattoo parlor and taking gigs at bars as a bassist, imojen’s investing in writing music as well. she hopes one day to finally finish at least one song she’s been procrastinating for far too long and convince her father to make them a rock duo instead, but a band of her own would fantastic too.  

*  𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗    ╱  ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ   .

imojen looks quite mean at first glance, and it doesn’t help that she’s indifferent towards anyone who isn’t part of already her friend. she doesn’t hate, hate is such a strong word, she simply doesn’t have the attention span for people that don’t interest her or she doesn’t know fully well to enjoy a conversation with.

honestly has the gina linetti energy “how was i supposed to know there’d be consequences for my actions” as she literally does anything she wants before her brain can even weigh the pros and cons to it.

imojen enjoys taking risks despite the relaxed attitude and seemingly nonchalant view in life. it might be a surprise to learn that she’s quite ambitious, but underneath, she does aim for the highs (both meanings) in life, except there isn’t exactly a time frame for those and would much rather pursue them steadily. 

everyone can depend on imojen to have a good time, or if someone needed a friend to vent to, she can surprisingly be all ears, but never follow her words of advice. she does mean well, it’s just that she doesn’t know what she’s saying half the time and is quite reckless,, like ask her to pick between two choices and she’ll advice you to take the riskier one bc “it’s fun don’t be a prude”.

she is more sympathetic than she let on. imojen’s not very vocal especially with her emotions and on what she exactly feels about other people’s situation. serious conversations? catch her yeet away from those. they render her uncomfortable, most especially if it is about her. however, seeing her friends gloomy doesn’t sit right with her that she does anything to make them crack a smile. 

believes that people should be left to roam free and that authority is useless and ruins the fun— hence why she’d always be caught defying them. yes, she uses her brain, but acts more towards intuition and what she felt like doing that day. so yes, she might loves setting her life on the line.

*   𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗   ╱  ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ .

plastic hearts   ╱   someone whom imojen shares a passion for music with. the both of you are like peas in a pod as you both are in the same wavelengths as each other. they may not have the same types of music, but open enough to share a plethora of music playlists.

angels like you   ╱   the typical bad-good influence trope wherein imojen’s reckless behavior and liberated thoughts on legalities have gotten your muse in various dangerous but fun adventures. on a flip, your muse may be the reason why imojen’s woken up at 8 in the morning, bright, well, and not hungover.

prisoner   ╱   an angsty and toxic relationship that imojen could not get enough of. everyone sees this partnership (romantic or platonic) of destructive nature, both of you may or may not know, but regardless it can never be broke off no matter how hard both try. 

gimme what i want   ╱   the typical fwb relationship, we can add spice to it, but on the base that’s the idea. 

night crawling   ╱   imojen’s ride or die, the person she would instantly run to for an adventure, midnight strolls, alcohol escapades, and vandalism. but as things you both do burst into haywire, you’re both aren’t afraid to be open to each other too and spill secrets or bodies hidden in the closet. 

midnight sky   ╱   perhaps a new acquaintance?? friend?? that doesn’t exactly have a first good impression of imojen?? maybe vomited on your muse the first time they met, or jen was really mean for no reason under the influence of alcohol?? she’s chaotic so perhaps it wasn’t a good first meeting. 

bad karma   ╱   imojen hasn’t been exactly an angel all her life, and perhaps karma has run around to bite her in her ass. your muse might’ve been somebody who hurt imojen; either a terrible break up or severing trust, let’s explore :D 

golden g string    ╱   a band :D maybe nothing too serious, just a group of pals playing and making music together :D  or maybe the group's been playing gigs for awhile now and wants to head into the big leagues :D

honestly im so down with anything so !!!!!!

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday: The Break-In

In our first Very Special Episode, the Girls’ home is broken into. Rose doesn’t take it well. Blanche has a bad encounter with mace.

Picture It...

The Girls are returning from a Madonna concert, only to open the door and find the house has been ransacked -- they’ve been robbed. After determining that the robbers are no longer present, the Girls separate to check their rooms to see what was stolen. Rose, left alone in the living room, is absolutely petrified the robbers will come back. Dorothy returns and accidentally scares Rose. The robbers made off with Dorothy’s mink stole.

Blanche emerges from the kitchen covered in flour. The robbers got her jewels, which she keeps hidden in the flour or the freezer. Sophia tries to say her clothes were stolen but Dorothy doesn’t buy it. The Girls argue about why they were robbed, with Blanche saying it’s karma, while Rose insists they’d be safer with a man around. Sophia and Dorothy go to rest until the police arrive, while Blanche says she’ll see the robbers whipped and hanged for daring to touch her jewels.

The girls attempt to purchase a security system, but the salesman is doing everything he can to freak them out with statistics about violent crime. Unwilling to acquiesce to paying $10,000 despite the hard sell, Dorothy angrily throws him out. The girls go to get dinner, but the guard dog Rose got is camped out in the kitchen. Sophia eventually gets fed up and goes in the kitchen anyway. According to her the dog peed on the floor and ran for it. Clearly Rose is already starting to overcompensate for security.

Blanche is on the couch, groaning in pain as Dorothy tends to her. Rose comes running in, having mistaken their gardener for a “swarthy man with a weapon.” She assumes Blanche was attacked, but Blanche tells a different story: She took what she thought was a bottle of hairspray from Rose’s room, then went to the police station about her jewelry. When she sprayed herself, she found the hard way it was mace. Rose says she no longer needs mace, as she just bought a gun. Dorothy says Rose is now going overboard, as she doesn’t know how to use a gun, and insists they all go see a psychiatrist.

The Girls return later, having seen the psychiatrist. Dorothy feels better, Blanche picked up a date with him, and Sophia didn’t like him. Rose, on the other hand, wasn’t comforted at all -- she feels worse, believing he was her last hope. The girls reveal that Rose now doesn’t sleep at night at all, but sleeps during the day and then keeps an all-night vigil with the gun.

At night, we see the house in darkness and hear a man’s voice. The door opens, the alarm goes off, and Rose blindly fires her gun in the direction of the door. The lights go on, revealing Blanche and a date; Rose shot Blanche’s Chinese vase. Dorothy and Sophia come in as Blanche sends her date, who accidentally set off the alarm, away. Sophia helps Blanche pick up the pieces of the vase (while hiding some, because she hates the vase).

Dorothy tries to tell Rose this has all gone too far, and Rose can’t live this way, and tries to tell her that the robbery is over and she’s safe now. Rose has a breakdown and says, in her mind, the people who invaded her home will always be there. Dorothy holds her while she sobs.

This comes to a head when we next see Rose walking alone in a parking garage. Suddenly she hears footsteps behind her and looks back to see a shadowy figure. She panics and bolts for the stairs, as a man races after her, calling out for her. She makes it down the stairs before he catches up with her and grabs her. We see her cry out in fear before it cuts away.

Sophia and Dorothy are playing Scrabble, and Sophia denies Dorothy the right to disprove her word “disdam” by saying the robbers took the dictionary. Blanche announces they caught the robbers, and they found Dorothy’s stole. Rose comes home and tells them about the parking garage. When the man grabbed her, she managed to knock him to the ground. She’s finally got her confidence back, knowing she can take care of herself, which prompts Blanche to go put champagne on ice. Unfortunately, the man who was chasing Rose was the parking attendant, trying to give her back her keys. But at least Rose isn’t afraid. Blanche comes back with a surprise: Her jewelry was in the freezer the whole time.

“Now get out of here before the victim of violent crime in this house is you.”

This is by far the heaviest episode of Golden Girls yet. I hesitated at first to dub this a Very Special Episode, since I usually associate that term more with hot button issues of the moment. But it’s got all the highlights -- intense emotional responses, trauma, and references to a social problem of some kind (in this case, crime).

This is another episode written by Susan Harris, and I meant what I said about how her episodes are almost universally good. She has a knack for being able to make the girls feel sad or deeply emotional without it sounding preachy or overwrought. Rose’s confused attempts to verbalize how the crime has effected her perfectly capture how that kind of trauma feels.

ROSE: I know it’s over. I know they’re gone. But not for me. For me, in my mind, they’ll always be here.

Harris is also particularly good at showing how, having gone through that, Rose needs to heal from the inside. Rose’s attempts to compensate for her suddenly-missing security aren’t particularly effective, and it’s because, for Rose, nothing would ever be good enough, would make her feel safe enough. So while, when I first saw this episode I was a little baffled by Rose’s proclamation that “I’m not helpless,” I now appreciate it for what it is -- Rose reclaiming her own inner sense of safety, at the expense of one beleaguered parking attendant.

Speaking as an adult woman myself, being told that we can take care of ourselves and that we’re not helpless is something I think more women need to hear. Though I do have one question: Why didn’t that idiot parking attendant say that’s who he was, or attempt to tell her why he was chasing her? That fool deserves as many knees in his safety deposit box as he gets.

The emotional struggles don’t stop the episode from being hilarious, though. With the first two minutes, Dorothy gives a Dirty Harry monologue that I’d put on par with Clint Eastwood’s any day.

In fact, everyone gets their shot at a great comedy moment: Blanche is hilariously angry about the robbery, and Rue McClanahan gets the chance to show her comedy chops are just as strong as the other girls, especially her rant about the mace. Were it not for Sophia’s awesome line (see below), Blanche’s distressed cry of “I MACED MYSELF right there in the police station” would be my favorite part of the episode.

Dorothy, on the other hand, handles the situation very practically, even pointing out the societal ill that caused someone to rob them in the first place (massive unemployment). She even suggests they see a psychiatrist, which strikes me as surprisingly progressive -- even today, you’ll find people who respond to the suggestion of therapy the way Rose does: “You think I’m crazy!” The only time she really seems to crack is when she realizes Rose bought a gun -- and by the way, an understated but still great moment of visual comedy is watching Rose pull multiple skeins of yarn out of the same shopping bag where she’s carrying a handgun.

At first it seems strange that Sophia is so blasé about the robbery, immediately going to sleep after it happens. While the other girls shriek and gasp when they discover the ransacked house, Sophia’s response is a weary “Oh boy.” But then, in her “Stable Mabel” rant, she points out that she’s seen a lot more than a simple burglary in her time, and there’s not much that’ll phase her anymore. Her attempts to use it to con Dorothy out of new clothes and a Scrabble win are another early sign her character isn’t just “vaguely suffering from discretion-shattering stroke,” but is actually rather clever and devious -- traits that’ll become more apparent when she gets standout episodes.

As Very Special Episodes go, to me this is a good template for how to do it right. The situation is treated seriously, and there are two big dramatic moments (one the gun-shooting scene, the other Rose being chased through the parking garage). However, the show puts in about three jokes for every dramatic moment, and it’s those jokes you remember the episode for just as much as the important moment behind it. GG will do this again, but this will always remain one of the best.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰 (five cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite Part of the Episode:

You can’t beat Sophia, who’s been the stoic all episode, finally blowing her stack after Rose shoots her gun:

[askmicrowavegaster]

Microwave grapes ending summary

Gaster does jump down the elevator shaft, and uses his magic to craft bones as steps to slow his descent, and finally rip through the elevator at a basement level, far below where the elevator usually goes. Beneath Fig’s arboreum and everything. 

And he does find sans, but more importantly-- 

He finds Ursama and Serptrine’s assistants looking over another skeleton, a little bit taller than Sans, and hidden away in a separate room. He doesn’t have Sans’ odd bone deformity from the DT overdose, but almost looks the same age all the same. 

Ursama demands to know what is going on that Gaster burst down like this, clearly destroying the elevator and definitely committing a crime in doing so if nothing else, on top of his kidnapping charges. 

Gaster is going to uh. Take those kidnapping charges again. He walls up the room with bones and grabs Sans to run--and Sans talks to the other little skeleton, who todders over, and holds on, too. 

Unfortunately, Gaster has only really one place to go, and that is back to his apartment. Which he does. And then barricades the door. And then shouts across the wall to Po-Yo that he needs someone to deliver a letter for him. Po-Yo gets a carrier (from chapter 6, Ava) and Gaster slides the message he needs delivered and the handful of gold pieces under the door. 

The letter is addressed to Asgore. 

Gaster never thought he would want to call the attention of an old monster down on himself, but right now, he’s the only one higher ranked than Serptrine that Gaster can think of who might object to the discovery of creating child monsters for warfare. 

In the meantime, Gaster barricades his wall and sets the kids up in the back room of his house and tells Sans to tell-- the boy’s designation is ‘PS-1’ (Prototype Skeleton 1) rather than ‘CS-1’ (Control Skeleton 1)-- to hide if anyone other than he comes in. 

But PS-1 seems to understand his speech just fine. And he doesn’t know what to make of that, except that someone has been teaching PS-1 the same way he taught CS-1. 

He makes them tea, and ignores anyone pounding on his door, and hopes no one pulls out magic or the royal guard. But the pounding on the door stops, and he isn’t sure how much time passes, but there’s not quite enough food in his apartment for three people. There was hardly enough for one. 

He doesn’t want to leave his apartment and come back to find both skeletons gone. 

He tries to pass the time by talking to them and figuring out what was going on. And this is what he learns: 

PS-1 has been outside of the building before. PS-1 knows how to summon his magic. PS-1 has a rotating series of caretakers. PS-1 has seen Sans before. 

PS-1 has a LV of 7. 

Gaster dreams about murder. 

Eventually through a lot of hand gestures and struggling conversation, he starts making a plausible scenario: 

Sans has been taken from his room at night periodically. This is probably where PS-1 met him and they had a ‘comparison’ between the control subject (Sans, who is not being pushed to learn much or learn an agenda) and variable subject (PS-1, who is being trained very specifically towards a goal.) The mistakes and ‘mistakes’ Gaster makes with Sans are corrected with PS-1 and it’s led to a very strong, dangerous, and unhappy toddler in his apartment, and that toddler is getting very hungry. 

The good news is that PS-1 seems to like Sans and will calm down when comforted. The bad news is that while Papyrus (Sans named him) doesn’t seem interested in ‘rebelling’ by attacking his new ‘handler,’ that doesn’t extend to furious pouting tantrums, fits, and crying. 

At some point, Papyrus summons the biggest attack he has— a strange, toothy skull sort of thing. It might’ve been dog-ish if not for the horns. 

Gaster recognizes someone trying to copy his dragon skull design and has to retreat for… a while. It’s sort of like setting off a firework show at a wake, maybe a ‘celebrating of life’ if you were being optimistic, and then turning around and finding your fireworks being pointed at people.

After a long while of hiding where Gaster can start to feel exhaustion weighing on him and is certain the low-magic meals are really starting to affect the kids, too, there’s a knock on the door and a familiar voice coming through.

Choris is a cat monster with a messed up ear and bad personality, but he grew up under Gaster’s parents and they went through college together. It is not an affectionate relationship by a stretch, but jealousy doesn’t mean you want them to fail, and so they’ve kicked each others’ asses through things a handful of times.

Today, Choris has shown up to say things like ‘I bet you haven’t been outside this whole time’ and ‘do you even have food in there? I bet you don’t. You haven’t even checked your mail. Get your shit together.’

Then the mail is shoved under Gaster’s doorway and the thump of several bags of groceries is heard outside the door. Once the footsteps are gone, Gaster reaches out to grab the food and hurriedly makes the kids a meal before checking the mail. 

One of them is a response from the king, alerting him to an investigation and for his testimony to show up at x day. Which is almost immediately. Tomorrow, or in nine hours, even. People probably would’ve shown up to his house and broken in if he didn’t show up, holy shit, he would’ve died (but only emotionally, not literally.) 

The idea of showing up in front of a Fucking Boss Monster is absolutely psyching his little traumatized brain out, but he has already kidnapped like two people barricaded himself in an apartment building for several days, so he doesn’t really have any room to say he’s paralyzed by nerves.

Still paranoid that someone is going to come swipe them when he’s not looking, Gaster gets Sans’ crutches and tells him he’s in charge of Keeping Papyrus Chill, and takes them with him (in a backpack for transport) to the castle for a Fucking Hearing. 

(Once they’re there, they get out of the backpack, but he is extremely not interested in people spotting them on the street and asking questions, because he has absolutely no doubt that someone has gossiped this all the way back to Snowdin by now. )

Serptrine and, unfortunately, Ursama are there as the ‘hey we need to break the barrier’ team, and Gaster shows up with two skeletons half his height wearing stripes, holding onto both his leg and each other. 

It’s pretty obvious who Asgore sides with. Everyone knows the moment he looks over at the kids. 

That doesn’t mean everyone is happy. Serptrine is removed from his post as head scientist, the position is suspended, and Ursama is on leave for a bit, or at the very least is no longer Gaster’s direct superior. They also forget to really give him a new superior. Or if someone is assigned, they aren’t claiming him, and when he’s told to return to the lab for regular work, he finds no one is really looking at him or minding him much at all. People he casually spoke to seem to acknowledge him a bit, but that’s about all. 

Whether they thought he was in the right to kidnap Sans and Papyrus or not, a lot of people also now view him as The Guy Who Stole Our Best Chance at the Surface. 

Yes, humans are falling down, but it’s… taking a long time. And then people are in danger and killed each time. And they’re still relying on the strength of humans when they use that captured power. And what about when they get to the surface, and then there are still humans out there to deal with? 

If they’d just Had Someone Who Could Handle the Barrier and the Humans Beyond It…

Haven’t you ever heard of the needs of the many? If five children die to save a city, how is that the wrong choice?

It’s easy to dream big about a project that barely got off the ground, but seemed to have some promise—especially if one of the experiments was successful and managed to end the last human’s rampage. 

...but Gaster has a child at home who has just learned about jigsaw puzzles, and who takes the newspaper from him to do the word searches and junior jumbles in pen. 

Then again, Gaster has an advantage in being kind, here. He’s never believed they would make it to the surface again, anyway.

++ 

As Gaster raises the two and deals with ostracization at work (which started out as just spite, but then was picked up as a hint by others, and has grown into a Habit) he uses the lack of oversight to start building small CORE experiments. 

He’s doing his best with the CORE but still works a lot on it at home, which Sans watches him do when he’s not watching over Papyrus. 

Because that is unfortunately quickly becoming Sans’ job. He’s still pretty young and needs crutches to stay upright for long stretches of time, but Papyrus has proven to be A Little Troubled, especially since he started talking more. 

He’s fond of fighting, which is normal for a monster child, but he’s actually fighting with intent to harm, because that’s what fighting has been for him this whole time, and at LV 7 it’s very difficult to break that sort of habit. You can think of LV as a disability almost— it makes it more difficult to move through life, as you’re on constant “when all you have is a hammer” mode. They had a fun incident where upon getting very frustrated with a puzzle, Papyrus summoned bones from the floor and one of them happened to have Moderate Contact with Sans’ knee. 

Sans ultimately has a monster version of hemophilia—a small cut can still cause him to bleed out. This eventually affects his magic to create KARMA, where his max ATK being small still bleeds out a little bit longer than would otherwise be expected. 

It is still a very frantic and uncomfortable trip to a healer, where Papyrus ends up left alone in the house because Gaster didn’t know what to do when you had two kids, and one needed the healer, and the other had caused the wound. 

Papyrus has been extremely careful about injuring Sans since then, and they’ve gotten him to somewhat release his pent up energy by doing ‘trick shots’ with his magic. Spelling things with his bones, biggest and smallest bones you can possibly make, haha hey kids what about bones that go backwards? 

Whatever was in that DT was fucking potent, because Gaster was a pretty good kid with magic for his age, but Sans and Papyrus outstrip him fast enough that at some point theyre just swapping tricks with each other and doing things Gaster is pretty sure aren’t physically possible but. Whatever. Fuck it. 

He’s going to do physically impossible shit too if he ever gets this geothermal shit up and running. 

...it is definitely not all fun and games. Most of the time, it is the opposite. When Papyrus grows old enough to start to care more, he starts thinking a lot about morality, and LV, and finds that he can’t even remember where all of it came from, and he doesn’t know if he should want to or not. But he still likes using magic. Even though he’s careful now, he still thinks fighting is fun when he goes out and duels kids in the backlots (the monster equivalent of kittens fighting each other) . 

He and Gaster eventually work out that maybe it’s okay to be happy, even when you’ve done something bad in the past. Puzzles are very popular now, even though they’re historically military traps. Magic is even more innate and expressive than a hobby, though, and over the years Papyrus can hone it to be something different. Maybe knives aren’t only used for murder. Maybe you can fight to defend, too. 

Papyrus decides he’s going to be talented enough he never loses control of his magic ever , and can avoid even the most accidental, normal mistakes. 

(Sans, who curls up on the couch and watches Gaster do physics on the coffee table at night, also starts talking about those sorts of things. Some childhood conversations cropping up that Gaster doesn’t know if they’re normal or if it’s because of where Sans and Papyrus come from-- or if they’re the only ones talking about this at all, even, because these talks feel like the only conversations that have mattered in his whole life sometimes. His parents were kind, and supporting, and loving, but no one has ever said ‘I’m sad’ and then followed up with it—with something other than a quip, or a joke.  But he and Sans and Papyrus keep talking instead.

The people in the underground don’t like talking about the unfixable. Maybe it’s because of the puzzles, he thinks. Maybe the underground has decided that no one would ever make a problem there wasn’t some way to solve.

He doesn’t think there are ways to solve some of them. He doesn’t think there’s a way to break the barrier that will let them survive outside. He doesn’t think there’s an answer he can give Papyrus about how he can feel the LV in him surging with excitement when he fights. He doesn’t think there’s a way he can tell Sans that no one person can fix everything.

“But I guess I have to try,” he says, like a joke and a quip, and exhausted. 

“you just said you couldn’t,” says Sans, who has grown out of his crutches and gained a few centimeters height.

“Yes. But if you’re in a position to do something , aren’t you obligated to try?” Gaster replies, trying his best to stay in this conversation for Sans, who is so distressed lately, and yet he is already so very tired.  “If you’ve got the ability, aren’t you obligated to try?”)

++

(Gaster dreams about finding Serptrine, wherever he is in retirement, and murder. He also thinks about Papyrus, and how frustrated he is at his LV, and his childhood stolen away by other people’s choices, and the cessation of possibility. He thinks about Papyrus who has changed, and so has decided everyone can change if they want to, even if Gaster argues that Papyrus didn’t choose to be a killer— Gaster never chose to be an angry, lonely child. But maybe he did. Maybe he decided going with his emotions was easiest, and maybe he had to grow enough to find the will to reach for something that wasn’t his first impulse. The first impulse to violence. 

He doesn’t know. He was just a kid. But he dreams of killing Serptrine, and when he wakes, he does not follow his dreams. For a crime committed only in imagination, maybe that’s the best he can do.)

++

Gaster talks a lot about Snowdin, when he’s feeling good. He wants to go back some day, because it was such a strange little town, and so much room, and so much more welcoming than he remembers being anywhere before. They never go back to Snowdin. 

His work on the CORE gets him promoted to head scientist after several years of the position vacant and in limbo. A lot of the anger has had time to die down, though there are a few brief surges after he takes the position and starts focusing the whole of the lab towards electrical production. 

Sans and Papyrus have started schooling. Sans tests well and is good at theory, and is rocketing towards college, while Papyrus gets stuck in the minutiae, and seems to be enjoying himself plenty well refusing to move up until he has gotten a perfect score on every assignment each level can throw at him. Fudging to give him a perfect score does not work, as he only trusts his own grade evaluations, and his criteria are mysterious and vague. 

Sans—in a very aggressive move on his part—starts to work at the lab. 

Many people have gone and been replaced since he was a child here. He wanders through halls he barely remembers. He rediscovers Fig and Jam (still very young— fish mature differently, though Jam has sprouted some legs and walks on their own sometimes) and helps some in the medical wing before Gaster Very Firmly transfers him into field work and sets him about laying the wires through the underground that will eventually carry their charge. It is an absolutely mind boggling undertaking, especially with something not actually functioning yet, but Sans finds he’s actually a pretty social guy, and laying groundwork gives him a lot of time to goof off some and talk with the locals. 

Fig and Jam transfer to the CORE building site. The tubing twists and turns like roots an the central walkway is laid out like a maze. It was almost inevitable, with how more areas grew upon each other as needed, more power rods and catwalks anywhere they could go. 

In what seems like a very short time, the CORE starts to tower at the deepest edge of Hotland. It reaches so deep they need elevators to reach the lower floors by the end, and yet they still have to build on the outside around those same elevators. Eventually the moving floors are installed, just to try and keep everything stable.

DT extracted from the atmosphere over the years starts to be moved to the CORE site, because as volatile as DT can be, it’s also one of the few substances that can temper materials steeped in magma, without allowing the metal to melt. 

The channel from Snowdin is dug. Wires are laid. Small central generators are set up, to distribute the energy from within the communities— 

And Sans gets a feeling one day. Not a bad feeling or an omen. A whim, probably, and goes to visit the CORE, knowing they’re near the end of construction and Gaster is going on three days of nauseas energy and Red Buffalo, and soon he is going to explode. 

Sans finds no one on the upper floors, and no one on the walkways. Someone’s been posting motivational posters on the wall, things that started to sound a little like sentimentality and anxiety and a wild hope holding all the mess together. 

When Sans descended to the lowest levels of the CORE, on the floors just above the magma, something was wrong. Different. 

It was cold, for one. Or chilly, at least. The heat from the magma was always rising, but this wind had a bite of cold to it— and as Sans opened the first door to the observation deck, there was light that shouldn’t have been there. The whole platform down here was lit by magma glow, and yet, this light was shining instead.

For a moment, he thought, perhaps, it was electricity. A lightbulb. The first one to turn on, maybe. 

And then he opened the door wider, and he saw oblivion. 

It looked like a hole. A white hole, hovering just above Gaster’s head, in the dead center of the room. 

He could see other things around that said there should be others in the room— Fig and Jam’s water cooler. Head Guy’s binder of notes. A plate of lightly smoking bagels, partly eaten. 

And Gaster, just staring into oblivion as it grew slowly bigger, like a dark drain letting all the world around it just spill in.

And Sans, who was small and lightweight, and who hadn’t had a thought to brace— stumbled forward, and was caught in the current. 

It did feel like water. Like the world rolled up around him, and all the air sucked away, and plunged him into a bright, white ocean. 

...and like a fish, something hooked him. Caught him right in the soul. 

It flung him out, bright purple, and into the elevator a room away, where he didn’t crumble, but blacked out just long enough to miss how The End, losing one mass, took another in his place. 

(And for the first time in his life,

Gaster 

Saw 

Stars .)

[megasaurusssss]

Dr Pershing

If people like this fic, I’ll continue it to the best of my abilities over the school holidays.

I started shipping these two about a week ago and they’re all I can think about. They’re so cute together and we need more content for them. This fic can also be a standalone one-shot if I can’t continue, so technically, even if I never pick it up, it’s still finished, right? Lol.

I do have big plans for this though. 

Enjoy some Dr Pershing/Din Djarin

Title: Dr Pershing (subject to change)

Words: 4836

Summary: Din Djarin finds him in the sewers. Starving. Beaten. Bloody. On the brink of death.  Pershing is trying to figure out why the Mandalorian bothered with him at all.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

"I'm so- so sorry, I didn't mean to alarm-..."

He cowered.

He seemed to be doing that a lot.

"I-I protected him! I protected him!"

He cowered from Imperials and he cowered from those who threatened them.

It seemed cowering was the only thing he was good at.

"If it wasn't for me he would already be dead!"

He trembled and stuttered and all he could think about was, oh god, I'm going to die.

Each and every time.

"Please."

But each and every time, he was spared. He was safe. He was okay.

Never had he been more afraid, though, never had he been more terrified, in the moment that he threw himself in front of the child. Even as he was shoved aside, he begged, please, don't kill him. He's just a baby. He's just a child. He can't even speak. He doesn't understand.

He was never more afraid than in that moment. But for once he found himself afraid for someone else.

But then it was over. The kid was gone. The Mandalorian left with him. Taken. Their work, gone.

And he would take the brunt of it.

There was no being spared. There were no empty threats. He would be killed. Blasted in the head.

Because why should he live when everyone else died at the hands of the Mandalorian if it were not because he betrayed them?

He ran.

He hid.

He cried.

He bled.

They were out to get him. There was a price on his head. No staying in one location. You have to keep moving. Don't get attached.

(You can't stay with this man. You will get him killed.)

(He died anyway.)

Nevarro was not an option. Not when the troopers took over the town. Not after the Mandalorian covert massacre. But he couldn't leave.

(He made money. Used the money he was paid to pay them not to say anything.)

(It didn't work. They didn't care about him. Only about getting what they wanted.)

(He vomited.)

He couldn't stay and watch the sunset. He couldn't stay in one town for the night. Had to keep moving. Get money from sketchy people. Use the remaining to get enough food to not starve.

Pass out in the woods. Wake up in a cold sweat and a searing pain in his spine.

Didn't stop moving.

He wondered if it would have been better had the Mandalorian had killed him after all.

(He never thought he'd reach such a low point, where he envied those living in poverty but held a roof over their heads.)

(His client smashed his glasses.)

It was his just desserts. It was his karma. He chose to work with the Imperials. He chose the life of a scientist.

Look where it landed him.

Dying. On the streets which he ran away from. Not by the hand of the troopers, but the ribs showing through his skin. The hollowness of his cheekbones. The hypothermia. The sleep deprivation.

(He was so unrecognisable that the troopers didn't pay attention to him.)

(Or perhaps they knew he was fucked either way.)

Despite it all, though. Even as he slipped away, even as his vision darkened and his heartbeat slowed to a crawl, even as he slumped against the wall of the sewers, he didn't regret it.

He didn't regret being afraid for someone other than himself, for once. Even if it cost him his life.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬*

When you die, it's a generally accepted fact that you don't wake up.

When he woke up, though, he was warm. Not hot. Just comfortable. Content. The best he'd felt in... well, he lost track of time.

He thought to himself, that if this was the afterlife, he rather liked it. But then his senses filtered in, and he realised with a start: he was not dead.

He was laying on a soft surface. His hair was no longer pooled around his shoulders, his beard no longer scratched at his neck. There was no longer a searing pain in his stomach or his spine. The wounds no longer stung.

His fingers twitched as he awoke. The darkness filtered away and he could see light through his eyelids. He breathed. The rattling in his chest was gone.

It was an easy conclusion. He was in a hospital.

He felt the presence of someone at his side. They did not talk or move, only breathe.

He didn't know how, but eventually, he pried his eyes open. They burned like they were on fire, but he didn't close them - he would not give up.

"Where-" such a weak voice. "Where am-" then again, that's always been the case.

He couldn't finish the sentence, though. A gloved hand suddenly grasped his arm. But it was gentle. It did not startle him.

"You're awake," came a low, modulated voice. It was him.

He didn't respond. He wasn't sure he could.

"I'm sorry."

You have nothing to apologise for.

"It's my fault you turned out this way."

He closed his eyes again. The pain was too much. He was so tired.

"If I had known..."

You couldn't have helped. It's okay.

"You protected him. You protected the kid. I can't thank you enough. He's okay because of you."

It was all he ever needed to hear. That the child was safe. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he opened them once more.

A silver helmet looked down upon him, blocking out the light situated above his head.

A tear ran down the side of his face.

"I'm... sorry," he rasped. And he was. He really was.

"You don't have to apologise for anything."

Except he did. He was a part of this. He was working with the Imperials.

He could have left at any time. But he didn't.

The Mandalorian's helmet was the last thing he saw before he fell back into unconsciousness.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

He didn't know what time it was. The lights were off, and the air was cold.

Pershing, with all the strength he could muster, hoisted himself up so that his back was against the bed rest. It made his head spin, for a moment, before his vision returned to him.

He allowed his eyes to get adjusted to the darkness.

The Mandalorian was still in the room, but he was unmoving and hunched in a chair. Asleep. Something was huddled close to his chest, something breathing and alive. The child.

If it weren't for the situation, he would have found it incredibly adorable. To think he was afraid for the child's life when all the Mandalorian wanted to do was protect it.

He looked down at himself. A needle was stuck in his arm, feeding nutrients and water. It seemed they hadn't given him a nasogastric tube just yet.

Even in the darkness of the room, now that all the dirt and grime had been washed away, he could see how pale he'd become. And how frighteningly skinny. He never had much body fat in the first place, he was surprised he hadn't died of starvation earlier.

The bundle in the Mandalorian's arms stirred. He watched with bated breath as the child turned his head, slowly, cautiously. Their eyes met.

"I'm sorry," Pershing rasped. "I'm so sorry."

The baby shifted out of the Mandalorian's grip, landing with surprising grace on the cold floor of the hospital room.

"You didn't deserve any of this. I'm so sorry."

He watched the child as it shuffled to his bedside, stopping at the edge of the bed to look up with curious eyes.

The tears welled up in Pershing's eyes. All the pain and trauma and overwhelming guilt hitting him like a tidal wave. The tears fell onto the floor below him. "I can see why he didn't want to harm you," he spoke in a broken voice. "You're so cute." A broken sob escaped him. "I'm so so sorry."

"I told you you didn't have anything to apologise for." The Mandalorian sat upright in the chair. His helmet tilted side to side as he stretched.

"I hurt him."

"You protected him."

"He was crying and he was afraid. I gave him a needle to force him to sleep. I hurt him."

The Mandalorian fell quiet. But it was not an angry silence. It was not judgemental. Pershing watched as he trudged over, leaning down to pick up the child. As he did so he did not break eye-contact.

(Or, at least, that's what Pershing imagined - since he couldn't actually see the Mandalorian's eyes. He'd still like to imagine he was looking into them.)

He decided to break the silence. "How long  have I been unconscious for?"

"It's been a day since you last woke up."

"I don't remember waking up."

The Mandalorian gave him a look. It was incredible how one man could portray so much emotion with a helmet covering his face. "You apologised, and I told you you didn't have to apologise. And then you fell back asleep."

"I don't remember. I must've been out of it."

The Mandalorian didn't respond. The child cooed as he settled back into the chair. "Yeah."

"What about before then? The last thing I remember is... the, the sewers."

"You were unconscious for two days."

"I see."

He spared another glance down at the tubes feeding into him. He wanted nothing more than to eat real, solid foods, but he knew the consequences. He had a feeling he'd be having soup for a while.

"Why did you stay?" he asked. He turned his gaze back up to the Mandalorian.

"What?"

"I've been... I've been here for three days. And you've been here the entire time."

"That's correct."

"But why?"

For this, it seemed, the Mandalorian didn't have an answer. Even with the helmet, confusion was written across him in bold red pen. "I... don't understand."

"You could have left by now. With the child. You could be far away from here. You don't need to care about me of, of all people..." he trailed off, averting his gaze to his lap. He fiddled with a loose string on the hospital gown.

There was no answer, and if it weren't for the shadow, he would have thought they'd left.

It was then that the door swung open, and a nurse entered into the room. She cried, "Oh!" before leaving the room as quick as she'd come.

"Interesting." He sighed. He supposed it was a shock to her that he was awake, after nearly dying of starvation. Or...

"Did I die?"

The Mandalorian looked over in surprise. "Not that I know of. When we found you you were breathing. Which is why I took you to the hospital."

"You brought me here?... thank you."

"I couldn't just leave you."

"Still. You didn't have to do that, I... I work for the Empire. Nothing will change that."

"As far as I'm aware you were being hunted by those Imps. I don't think you work for them anymore."

Pershing shrugged. "Being hunted comes with the job description." It would have been funny had the circumstances been different.

"Same for us," the Mandalorian sighed.

Just as Pershing opened his mouth to reply, the nurse reentered with another nurse on toe. A male twi'lek.

The light flickered on.

"You're awake," the Twi'lek nurse said, rushing over to check the nutrients. "We weren't expecting that for another day or so."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises." He chuckled. The nurses did not.

"We're going to have a Doctor come check your vitals. Take your blood. Since you're, well... since you seem to be up and ready to go, you should be able to leave within the week."

Within a week? He was shocked, but he supposed it made sense. It's not like he was injured. Physically at least. Just mentally.

How funny.

The human nurse left, leaving the Twi'lek to fuss over the equipment. The nurse got increasingly closer, encroaching on Pershing's personal space. As he did so, there was a sweet aroma emanating from his neck like he'd had coffee beans poured down on top of him. The lekku grazed his shoulder and, despite himself, he felt his heart rate quicken and his face flush a violent scarlet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Mandalorian shift in his seat. He imagined him with a raised eyebrow.

Finally, the nurse moved away, and he could breathe again.

"The doctor will be here in just a moment." And he left.

The Mandalorian (thank god), didn't pry into what had just occurred. That or he was just not paying attention - to which he would have been incredibly grateful. But that would have been lucky and Pershing was not a lucky man. Luck all but abandoned him as soon as he took the job and title as Imperial Scientist.

The child made a cooing noise, and the Mandalorian seemed to know what it meant. "He's hungry. Do you mind if I-?"

"Not at all."

"Okay."

"Wait-"

The Mandalorian paused in the doorway, turning to look over his shoulder back at Pershing.

"What does he eat?"

The child cooed again. The Mandalorian shrugged. "He's a carnivore. One time he swallowed a full frog, in one go.  It was..."

"Oh, no! Oh no oh no oh no. He swallowed an entire frog whole? Children don't have a concept of what's poisonous and what isn't, and- and goodness, an entire frog? Without even chewing? It could have catastrophic consequences on his digestive system, how long has it been since he-?"

"He's fine."

The low, modulated voice calmed him down immediately. A chill ran down his spine, and he shivered.

"It's been well over a month. I've done enough holding him over the vactube as he makes direct eye-contact to know that he's fine."

"Oh, but..."

"He's fine."

"If that frog was poisonous he would be dead!" he snapped. He knew immediately that he'd overstepped his boundaries when the Mandalorian shifted his stance. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I wasn't aiming to imply that you-"

The Mandalorian stared as Pershing trailed off. He glared down at his lap in shame. His entire life had been leading up to this moment. Every decision only brought him to this. This was his lowest of lows. He couldn't ever be forgiven.

"You're right."

"What?"

"You're right. I need to monitor what he eats. I haven't had much time to think about it. Being hunted will do that- stop trying to make yourself look small."

He hadn't realised he was doing it. "Sorry."

"No need."

The child cooed once more, and the Mandalorian sighed. "I'll go get him some food."

Pershing watched them leave, and suddenly found himself wishing they hadn't. It's not like he had anything else to do in his small little hospital room. But he wasn't in wretched silence for long, as only a couple minutes after the Mandalorian and the child left, an Arkanian doctor entered the room with a clipboard.

"It's good to see you awake," she said. "We weren't expecting it for another day or so, but you seem to have recovered quickly."

"I'm full of surprises," he repeated his joke from earlier, but this time, he didn't laugh. The Doctor ignored it.

"How long were you on the streets for?"

The question embarrassed and mocked him. But it was fair so he supposed he had to answer. "A bit over a month."

"How much did you eat during that time period?"

"Close to nothing." He stared down at his arms. A wave of emotion rushed over him, but he did his best to conceal it.

"What about water?"

He shrugged.

The Doctor sat down on the bed. He felt the weight shift. "What was your source of income?"

She stared at him with a knowing eye.

He didn't answer and he didn't need to.

She wrote something down on her clipboard with a sigh. "You should be able to leave within a week. Until then we're going to closely monitor you. Try not to move around too much, and you're not to eat solid foods until you're dismissed."

His heart ached. No phrase in the entire universe could have ever caused so much pain. You're not to eat solid foods. How he yearned for the crunch of an apple.

It truly felt like his world was crumbling around him.

"Don't look at me like that," the Doctor sighed again. "You're a scientist, right? You know what'll happen if you eat too much too quickly."

"Yes, I- I know."

"Then you won't have any issues with it." She abruptly stood from the bed, and there was another abrupt shift in weight.

Ah yes, the arrogance of the Arkanians rivals no other. She radiated superiority complex. "Sorry."

She gave him a condescending look - probably intentional, knowing their species - before leaving, the door slamming behind her with a bang.

He was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming sense of fatigue. He knew it would be a while since the Mandalorian returned, so... he slipped back down so that he was on his back, resting his head against the pillow. He allowed himself to stare at the ceiling for a moment, before he slipped into another deep sleep.

♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♫ ♬

The next time he woke up, the lights were still on, but he guessed it had been a couple of hours. He was disappointed to find that the Mandalorian was not in the room, and neither was the child... but he shook the disappointment away immediately. The Mandalorian didn't have any obligation towards him.

He's probably left already. He knows you're fine now. Why would he waste time staying with you?

The door pushed open, and for a moment he had a smidgen of hope, but it was just the twi'lek nurse from before. And, well, while he didn't complain, necessarily, considering the alluring properties that this nurse possessed...

"You're awake again, good." He was holding a plastic tray, and situated on it was a small glass of water and a bowl of soup. "I was worried I'd have to wake you myself," he chuckled.

Pershing's heart skipped a beat. "Yeah."

"Don't want to deal with a grumpy patient."

"Yeah..."

The soup smelled nice, and he was sure it tasted wonderful, but he still yearned for something to actually chew. Alas. He knew the risks. Refeeding syndrome wasn't to be taken lightly. Soup it was, he supposed.

"I understand Dr Alva visited you earlier today. I'd like to apologise for her attitude." The twi'lek took an elongated gaze at Pershing's eyes. It's as though they were frozen in time.

The twi'lek was so young. He was round-faced and wide-eyed. So naive.

"The- the Arkanian? Yeah, she..."

"She's brash. You can say it, everyone knows it."

"Yeah."

The doe-eyes of the twi'lek lingered for another moment before the nurse turned away. At this point, Pershing felt his entire face was on fire.

He averted his gaze to the soup and picked up the spoon.

"My name's Jad'futi, by the way. I don't believe I caught yours."

Now the twi'lek was sitting in the chair that the Mandalorian had previously occupied. "Oh," Pershing tried to swallow the knot in his throat away. It did not go away. "Don't you have a record?"

There was a flash of disappointment on Jad'futi's face. "I thought I could ask you." He smiled widely.

Ah. Pershing thought. I see. Maybe if circumstances were different, he would have given into it. Maybe if he wasn't bedridden and out of his mind with anxiety. "I'm... I'm too old for you."

This time the twi'lek actually frowned. "You don't even know how old I am."

"Not old enough."

"I'm seventeen!"

Pershing blanched. "You- you- that's even worse!" he spluttered. "That's! You're not even-"

"I'm an adult! The twi'leks come of age at sixteen, so it's fine... right?"

He stared back down at the soup. He could see his flushed reflection on the wavy surface. "That's not it, I know that... it's just, I'm more than double your age..."

There was a long stretch of silence, then a surrendering sigh. "Alright. I respect that. Technically I'm not allowed to date you anyway," he chuckled.

Pershing glanced back up. Jad'futi was staring at the opposing wall with a furrowed brow. Or at least, as furrowed of a brow as you could get when you didn't have eyebrows. "How long have you been a nurse for?" Pershing asked.

"A little over a standard year, sir."

He winced at the sudden title. He wished (not for the first time) that twi'leks weren't so naturally beautiful. "But if your species reaches adulthood at sixteen, you... how long have you been studying for?"

It had taken Pershing years to gain his title, even with his increased intelligence - if you'd pardon the modesty.

"My whole family has been in the medical field," they met eyes again, "so they started me young."

"Didn't you want to do anything else...?"

Jad'futi seemed to think for a moment. His gaze averted to the floor. "I've been fascinated by the New Republic ever since it was established. But- but my parents would never have allowed me to join, too dangerous they said..."

"Your parents are right."

"I know..."

"But I think you should go for it."

Jad'futi stared. He blinked. "I couldn't possibly."

"I thought the same way about becoming a scientist," Pershing smiled wistfully. "Now twenty years down the road I-" work for the Imperials, "-have my dream job." Not anymore, you moron.

At least this kid isn't in danger of accidentally working for the Empire. But there were so many more dangers. X-Wing being blown up. Having a run-in with storm-troopers. Mission going wrong.

"I don't know... it took me so long to become a nurse. I'm not as strong-willed or smart as everyone else in my family. And my family says that, that I have to be a nurse. Because everyone else is. I can't just abandon that."

"If you're an adult, then you can do whatever the hell you want."

Jad'futi raised his brow-less eyebrows. Before he could refute, though, the door pushed open, and in came the Mandalorian, the child tucked safely in his arms.

"...am I interrupting?" came the low modulated voice.

"I-I was just leaving!" Jad'futi stood abruptly from the seat, causing the chair to screech against the stone flooring. "I'll go now. Um, thanks for the talk."

With that, the twi'lek, with incredible speed and absolutely no grace, flung himself out of the room. The door slammed behind him.

The Mandalorian gave him a Look. Pershing shrugged, then finally took a sip of the soup he'd been brought. It was nice - and he would have expressed this had his tongue not just been burnt on the spoon.

"Ow."

"Hot?"

"A bit."

The child made a gurgling noise, then giggled. "Ow!"

Both Pershing and the Mandalorian had been stunned into silence. They both stared down at the little green baby.

"That was... you, right?" said the Mandalorian.

"No... it wasn't you...?" They both continued to stare. The child bore a large grin like he knew the exact significance of what he'd just done. "Was that his-?"

"Yeah."

"His first word?"

"Yeah."

The child cooed and bounced in the Mandalorian's lap. He definitely knew the significance, and he was proud of it.

"You should get him a treat."

The Mandalorian looked up at him. "A treat?"

"Something nice. Like new clothes for starters," he sighed. "He's wearing the exact same thing as when I last saw him."

"I haven't put much thought into it."

"Yeah, I can tell." There was a prolonged silence. Pershing took another sip of the soup, but it was still too hot. He seethed. "You'd think hospitals wouldn't serve their soup piping hot to bedridden patients. Oh," a sudden thought popped into his head, "What planet is this? There aren't any hospitals like this one on Nevarro."

The Mandalorian shifted, like he was unsure of himself. "We're on Obroa-skai."

Pershing nearly choked on his own spit. "What?" he croaked. "Are you sure it's a good idea for me to be here?"

"As far as I know they have no idea you worked for the Empire."

"But... my patch!"

"They didn't see it."

"But-?"

"They didn't see it."

They stared at each other. He couldn't see it, but he felt the Mandalorian's eyes burning into his skull. There was something there, stirring between them; but he couldn't quite place it...

"Mandalorian... um, how should I address you?"

"Mando is fine."

"Mando, then. If... if the people on this planet find out who I am, I'm... excuse my language, but I'm fucked."

"This medical facility houses all variations of alien life." He gave Pershing a pointed look as if to say, please don't swear in front of the child. "Even if they knew, they wouldn't turn up their nose."

"This planet is the stronghold of the New Republic. If I were anyone else..."

"Well, you're not anyone else." There was a certain bite to Mando's words, but they were still low and soft-spoken. Like he hadn't intended to snap.

Pershing hesitated. "You... you have no reason to trust me."

It baffled him. He worked with the Empire, willingly. He gave his life to them. Dedicated every day to be the best he could be, fought against the Rebellion, made gadgets for the troopers. Improved their tie-fighters. Spent twelve years slaving his life away for the Imperials.

And yet, this Mandalorian took one look at him, even knowing what he was, what he'd done, he took one look and decided he was trustworthy.

Why?

If he had anything other than good intentions, that child would be dead. Or the Imperials would have been hailed.

"You're right." Mando stared at the far wall. "I have no reason to trust you. You hurt the child - my child. You wore that symbol with pride on your shoulder, you stood tall next to the client."

"Yes. I-..." I'm sorry. Is that what he wanted to say? There was no use in it now.

"The Empire has caused nothing but pain. They've brought genocide upon my people. They took happiness and they tore it to shreds. They killed Kuiil, they tried to kill the child." The helmet turned. Pershing refused to look up at it. He refused to look the Mandalorian in the eyes. "I have no idea why I decided to trust you. I have no idea why I wanted to stay and make sure you were alright."

Drowning himself in the soup suddenly sounded appealing. "I'm sorry," he sniffed.

"I just knew I didn't want anyone else to die."

"Well, I'm fine now. So... I won't hold it against you if - not that I ever would, of course - I won't hold it against you if you want to leave now."

There was a long stretch of silence.

And then more silence.

Then even more.

It was deafening. It was suffocating. Pershing's heartrate quickened and his throat tightened and his fists clenched. The soup lay forgotten on the tray, and the tray quivered as his knee involuntarily shook.

He'd always hated silence. Always hated the fear that came along with it. The pure anxiety that washed over him, as his mind raced, thinking about everything and anything that could go wrong.

What's he thinking? Why isn't he saying anything? Should I never have spoken?

He's thinking he should have just left me for dead. Maybe it would have been better off.

Am I annoying? Am I too shy? Does he think I'm weak?

Maybe I am weak.

I'm a coward.

There never was an answer. When the Mandalorian left the room, the child with him, Pershing expected that the tension in his shoulders and the quickening of breath would fade. But they didn't.

He wished in those moments that please, somebody, just help me. Save me from this. I can't control it. I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't want to suffer anymore. I don't want to be a coward. I don't want to be weak. I don't want to live like this. I don't want to live.

Even, though, as these thoughts raced through his mind, and even though he willed it, he couldn't cry. His shoulders shook and his breathing hollowed out, the heart rate monitor beeped wildly and five nurses came in with defibrillators, only to discover him in the midst of a mental breakdown, and not cardiac arrest - but even so, he couldn't cry.

And, an hour later, when he heard the sound of the Mandalorian's ship taking off, he didn't feel a thing.

[afterourhearts]

Eyeliner Tears

Why are Asian eyes so ugly? I thought to myself as I outlined their shape with the blackest liner I could dig out from the free Lancôme makeup samples Mom never used. This was my daily routine since I first discovered the beautiful black pencil when I was 12 alongside lip gloss, mascara, and blush. But eyeliner was my favorite – changing most dramatically what I hated most passionately. • Monolids are ugly because they make eyes look like slits. • Double lids are ‘mutant’ because, as my white medical professor once so aptly described, “Epicanthic folds are a prominent feature of Down Syndrome. If you don’t know what they are, Asians commonly have this feature.” Let’s face it: we can’t win, at least not in the beauty arena. But with my eyeliner adding the illusion of a larger eye, I felt halfway there. Not everyone, however, appreciated my foray into adolescent self-transformation. The Chinese beauty culture operates very differently than American beauty culture: pale skin, small mouths, soft bodies, and youthful innocence are prized over glowing tans, wide smiles, athletic frames, and sultry seductiveness. To achieve the Chinese beauty ideal of youthful innocence, heavy makeup such as eyeliner is unacceptable, and makeup at all is frowned upon for younger girls. Mom called them “raccoon eyes” and told me I looked uglier with it on but I never heeded her advice. She also said respectable girls did not waste their time on vanities like makeup, but rather immersed themselves in their studies. She especially hated when I wore makeup to church, a place where teenage girls are supposed to look extra pure. I rolled my raccoon eyes. One year, I met a new girl at our Chinese Christian Church. She was talkative, witty, similarly loved makeup and rebellion, and we became fast friends. This same year, a new youth pastor arrived at our church. He was funny, fluent, and finally our first youth pastor who wasn’t middle-aged. So how do they tie back to eyeliner? Prior to their arrival, I dreaded attending church, paranoid that the judgmental eyes of multitudes of Chinese parents hated my appearance and shared the Chinese cultural views held by my mother. Was it paranoia, or was I just observant? Adults would enthusiastically praise my younger brother’s handsome features and say nothing about my appearance other than, “She is tall!” Their smiles seemed disingenuous and their attitudes towards me distant. Or maybe I was just overly sensitive. Regardless, much of that paranoia melted away with the arrival of a new friend and youth pastor – two characters who seemed more attuned than the other members to the Asian-American dichotomy that was my life. I began to loosen up at church, smile more, and even happily greet the adults. I felt … safe. Maybe not enthusiastically accepted, but also not frowned upon with disdain. One might wonder why I was so concerned for approval from within my Chinese church. When you live in a country spearheaded by people who don’t view you as truly American, you cling onto the safe spaces that still might take you in and consider you a member. I wasn’t aware of how shaky my walls of comfort had been built, though, until one sentence caused them to tumble back down again. “He said he doesn’t like you because you wear so much eyeliner.” She told me. She being my new best friend and he being the cool and young youth pastor we both adored. “How do you know this?” I asked, disbelief and doubt at each other’s throats in the battleground that was now my mind. “Because he told my mom. And my mom told me that it’s not just him who thinks this way, but a lot of other parents. They tell their kids to stay away from you because you are a bad influence.” Bad influence. Me, the introvert who rarely speaks, a bad influence? I let that sink in. That night, I considered giving up my eyeliner. I thought all my fears about being hated by my friends’ parents were unfounded and paranoid. I thought my youth pastor would especially not judge me by something so exterior – actually, why would he judge me at all? Why would a grown ass man concern himself so heavily with whether a teenage girl wears eyeliner? Anger and sadness bubbled up around me. How did one of my greatest fears, one I thought had been pushed away and laid to rest for good, one which only my new friend knew so intimately, suddenly come to surface all over again? And that’s when it hit me: maybe she lied. The seed of thought that this supposed best friend might not actually like me at all was planted. And over the next few months, it thirstily drank up water and sunlight. I befriended other girls and began to uncover bits and pieces of the horrifying truth: she did hate me, and they had evidence. Screen captures and chat conversations were forwarded to my inbox. Not only did she tell others about how terrible I supposedly was, she also told them I disliked all of them and fabricated statements I had never uttered nor so much as thought. I could not believe it – why did she want to destroy my life and capitalize on my insecurities? What did I ever do but consider her my friend? Sometimes, you never get answers. Not too many months after, she moved again. We stumbled across each other’s Instagram accounts a few years later. She had dyed hair, tattoos, piercings all over, eyeliner wings bolder than I had ever applied, false lashes nearly reaching her thickly painted eyebrows, the same deceptively sweet smile as when we first met, and was surrounded by other Asian girls. I once burned with the anger of her betrayal, but all I could think about now was her new embodiment of the criticisms she claimed were the reasons for my rejection from our community and how ironic our appearances were now – me being the studious medical student who sometimes forgets to wear eyeliner and she being the girl who refuses to be seen in public without it - the pictorial epitome of the bad influence she once used to mark me for social abandonment from our only remaining community. Irony, Karma, or Hypocrisy? Today, I won’t know if sprinkled between her lies were grains of truth, and if her comment about my reputation was one of them. I won’t know if my eventual submission to certain Asian cultural values drew its main roots from my teenage experience of potential two-fold community rejection. I won’t know if she ever realized the extent to which she hurt me or if she continues to hurt in similarly sneaky ways our other Asian sisters struggling to find acceptance and self-love in a land which has subjected them to unwarranted rejection. What I do know is this: We All Cry The Same Eyeliner Tears Yes, we do. They trickle down from our unmistakably Asian eyes, glide along our sunscreen laden faces, and leave smudgy black streaks to remind us of both our perceived physical imperfections as well as our efforts to conceal the ugliness we feel inside. 

Feeling ugly is not just some manifestation of low self-esteem as these American schools/media/counselors might tell us in order to erase from our mutual history and from their responsibility the ‘chink’ comments that we heard or the fingers-pulling-eyes-upward-to-mimic-us that we saw.

Our damaged self-esteem is not some personal mental and emotional disorder or a reflection of our weakness but a collective experience caused largely in part by the pervasive belief that some belong here but we don’t and that some are beautiful but we aren’t. Don’t think that just because dating apps are now asserting, “Asian girls are the most desired race!” that the girls who come after us are protected from the less-than we endured. The American dating scene did not just become more “accepting” of us – we changed to look more like them. But underneath the beautifully and extravagantly drawn eyeliner wings, the perfectly filled in eyebrows, the time-consuming application of fake lashes, the hours spent at the gym to avoid ‘Asian flat butt’ stereotypes, and the sharp cut of the surgery knife on our eyelids, we still cannot help but wonder: is this beautiful yet? And when he says, “Yes”, we still worry, was I not beautiful before? Do we really want to be with the ones who only want what is made-to-order, and overlook the ones who saw the original, in all its imperfections, as worth discovering? So while I have every right to be mad at my Asian sister for the hurtful actions she made against me as a result of her wanting to be more accepted by our community than I was, I cannot lose sight of the more formidable barrier to our collective inability to self-love: not the lies she told before, but the lies they still tell today. Why are my Asian eyes so ugly? I used to think to myself constantly. And if you’ve read this until the end, I think you know the answer.

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Comments: Friends who have read this far or read my shared thoughts at all, I know my experiences are not isolated. My past shared posts related to familial pressures and relationships have shown me just how overlapping our experiences can be. The feelings of low self-esteem and self-image at some time or another in your life is probably a universal one. Experiences of betrayal are sadly quite common. Hopefully you enjoyed this short piece - it’s a bit different from the other posts I’ve written (a little more cleaned up and narrative when compared to my usual frenetic ranting) ... anyways, I wanted to share that I’ve been working on putting together some more shorts + poems in my free time (this is how I destress from school haha) and something I hope to achieve through writing with this project (and since day one) is unfiltered and unapologetic storytelling highlighting the Asian voice that is so often completely ignored in discussions of race and discrimination. I’m not saying our experiences are to be equated to the experiences of other minorities because noo, but I am saying we should at least be included in the discussion. 

This brings me to my next point: I want to continue to share your stories too. If you have experiences you want to share related in any way to your identity as an Asian-American female, I want to hear them and with your permission, try to make prose or poetry of it. Text me, message me, or call me and let’s get in touch :) Thank you for being a part of this whether as a reader or direct contributor. Let’s shape our collective voice!!!

[og-danny-dorito]

oh man i love your hellboy! can i get a request for a first kiss with the big red baby?

I like the way you think, anon. Please forgive me if this bit is bad since I haven't exercised my writing ability in a long while- (and I'm sorry this took so long I only saw it today rip) I decided to make the reader a little bit feisty 

Hellboy x Reader : First Kiss

"Y'know, I've never believed in karma."

  At the statement, you tilted your head, seeming to look in his direction as he lit the cigar teetering between his teeth. He cupped the flame with his larger hand while the other flicked your lighter's ignition to set it, leaving him to keep his eyes down on it to make sure it didn't crap out on him. From up here, you could feel the wind on your skin and the hopeless abandon of dangling your feet over the edge of a balcony. Late nights with Red never were boring, especially if they involved some good old fashioned trouble making and a pack of beer on the rooftops. Of course, it wasn't the most dramatic way to do things, but he really only ever was dramatic when it called for it.   "It's always been a weird concept to me; seems awfully selective- y'know?" His voice held a low rasp one might find in a tired friend who was half asleep in the backseat of their car, leading a smooth drawl to it you never could place. He was a gentle dude now that you thought about it. His question made you shrug a little, looking into the scene before you. Lights spread over the edge of the city, filling your peripheral with images of different colors. It sounded less busy than usual even though the honking car horns and loud music still played in some areas. Maybe because of the whole quarantine going on right now, but at least the two of you had taken some extra measures to avoid others. Like jumping across roofs to not have to walk by others.   The demon was quiet, although you could tell he was expecting some sort of follow up. You never had been a people-pleaser, but humoring Hellboy wasn't ever something you dreaded. Especially like this, where you felt vulnerable and relaxed in the presence of another person for the first time in a while. But outright thanking him would be weird. "I guess the whole concept is that it comes to them eventually, but I don't know, man.", you said, blinking. Your shoulders felt relaxed, and even though you still felt the dull ache of soreness in your muscles, you could tell that it wasn't an uncomfortable ache. No, it almost felt familiar, really. A comforting ache in bones that had been working too long.   The man next to you shrugged, taking his hand from his mouth and handing you your lighter back, and glancing at him, you took it. Hellboy had always been much bigger than everyone around him, but when compared to you he certainly did seem like a giant. Sure, you weren't too short (well, maybe, but it depended on who you were asking) and you held some weight to you enough to fend for yourself, but compared to him you looked like a kid or a tiny animal. Kitten seemed to he his first relation with your size. Although it was initially annoying you got over it quickly seeing as he used it either in teasing or when referring to you endearingly. And you'd lie to say it didn't make you feel things you knew you shouldn't.   You felt his coat rush with the surge of wind coming your way this time, turning the tip of your nose pink and your eyes shutting reflexively to prevent drying. He didn't seem to move, though. Quiet and unmoving, and with a cigar in his mouth fatter than your finger. "I guess no one really knows though?" He turned his head to face you at the comment, seeing as your brows had furrowed a little in thought. It was a good question, one you couldn't answer and couldn't bring yourself to think about any harder than this. But he didn't pressure you to speak more, rather leaning his elbows into his lap, leaning in, and looking out.   It was a long moment before he spoke, the silence only being filled with the sounds of cars honking once or twice and wind rushing over the are. “You know how I know all that karma talk is bullshit?", he asked, looking at you. For the first time you turned your head too face him, eyebrows raising and your lips pursing a little. "How?", you asked. But when you saw the sly smirk that showed up on his face you felt yourself almost prepare to roll your eyes, watching him as he spoke. "Cause I've got someone like you runnin with me."   The comment made you pause for a second, but you still smiled a little and rolled your eyes sarcastically at him. He didn't really mean it, you knew that much. "Wow, so smooth, Red. My panties are basically dropping right now. Oh my god, I'm sweating.", you said raising your hands and faking a voice. At this he pouted a little and grunted, now taking his turn to roll his eyes over dismissively. For a second you thought you did something wrong, until you heard a quiet "I mean it." from the man beside you. And that, genuinely, caught you off guard.   It caught you off guard to the point where you had stilled to a silence, your eyes narrowing a little before you dropped your hands to your lap. You suddenly felt like you reacted wrong, and the butterflies in your stomach began to accumulate at the thought, clearing your throat, you looked in the other direction before scratching the back of your neck. He remained unmoving from his spot but did make small movements, even if only to take the cigar out of his mouth to exhale then do it again. For a few seconds you were quiet, but it was no longer a comfortable silence that remained shared between you two, but an uncomfortable one. You weren't...you weren't sure what to say. Did he actually care about you enough to say that? Only a month ago you were sure he hated you, why did he like you so much now?   "I uh-" You gulped down a lump building in your throat, averting eye contact. The words being thought made your face heat up, but you guessed you had to say it eventually. Why not now when no one else was around? "Th-thanks. That means a lot to me. It's...it's fun hanging around you, too. You're good company." It almost seemed like he wouldn't catch it from how low you were speaking, but he did in fact hear it, and at the response slowly turned his head over to you. You could see his grin from the corner of your eyes, and soon enough you turned to face him, faking irritation. But... you didn't hold it for long.   His lips were spread in an almost comical smile, teeth showing as he clutched the cigar between them, eyes glinting in amusement. You could tell it was genuine from the way his eyes twinkles when he looked at you, and, straightener get his posture, you realized how much bigger he was than you. Weirdly kissable lips upturned in a smile always got you feeliNg more nervous than you should. A few stray hairs came free from his man-bun thing that you never really understood, making him look slightly disheveled. But you couldn't help but grin back at him for it, seeing as his happiness was a bit infectious in you and vice versa.   Slowly, you scooted closer, pushing some hair from your face. But your face was still as red as him, and it made him feel a little bit more...playful. Just a little. "You're blushing. Somethin you're not telling me?", he said, poking your side. Reflexively you squeaked and fake-glared at him, scrunching your nose up and furrowing your brows. Aw fuck, you were cute when you were mad- "No, why would you think that?", you said. But it was definitely obvious you were hiding something, and he couldn't help but be curious about it. How could you tell someone they had kissable lips? How could you also say you wanted your lips on theirs?? Without embarrassing yourself???   The pressure was building up again, and you felt yourself look in the other direction, crossing your arms and lowering your head. Exhaling, you shrugged a little. He seemed to furrow his brow a little, but his hunched over posture returned once again as soon as he realized what he thought was going on was probably true. Oh god, you were never going to hear the end of this, were you? "Do you like me, kitten? You know you can say it, although there might be some co-"

And with that, you turned abruptly, meeting him where he was facing you, and kissed him.

  Now you'd lie to say you weren't struggling to stay up to his height, but considering his surprise was soon dissipating at he began to kiss back, the hands on your waist were slowly pulling you up and closer to him, leaning farther from the edge of the building. Instead you felt yourself turning your head a little to get a better angle, feeling how hot his skin actually was. You guessed it was red for a reason, but the fact that he felt like a furnace when you touched him really felt like overkill for his whole aesthetic. His breathing was steadying out as he eased into it, smiling a little as his lips moved against yours. A little chapped, yeah, but they were warm and oddly plush. Weird to think a big red demon man could be so gentle.   It felt like forever until you actually pulled away, letting the taste of his skin linger on your lips before feeling your face heat into a low warmth that made you feel like you had done something shameful. "So you do like me?" Punching his arm, you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help the smile forming on your face. Nor could you help the silly giggle that came from your lips at his joke.   As most may say, happiness is infectious, and this was no exception. Even though he did tease you about it for the next few weeks, and you did have to punch his arm multiple times to get him to shut up while other people were around, it felt worth it.