#its such a nice break from the other fandoms i partake in

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Moomin: *flashes back to Moominpappa rambling about how looks like a total lapcat and acts like it*

Moomin: so that was a lie

[gavin-plz-call-me]

Melted Ice Cream

TW: Internalized Acephobia, brief mentions of gender dysphoria and blood.

All Vincent wanted to do was cuddle on the couch with his boyfriends and watch a movie, but they had different plans. Them having sex without him leads Vincent to question his place in the relationship.

Fandom: Boyfriends (webcomic)

Use of Cannon Names: Prep-Vincent

Jock-Kevin

Nerd-Adrian

Goth-Felix

AO3

Words: 3K

The movie that Adrian had picked out was surprisingly really good. It was some cute slice-of-life anime movie that Vincent was sure would be a bit boring, not that he’d ever complain when he got to be in the arms of his boyfriends, but the characters were compelling and the storyline was phenomenal. Vincent was cuddled up next to Kevin, who held an arm around Vincent, drawing mindless circles against him as the four paid attention to the movie. This, Vincent decided, was the most perfect moment he had ever lived: watching a good movie and basking in the love of his boyfriends.

That didn’t last long.

It started off subtly enough, the couch moving slightly under Vincent as someone shifted their position, the quiet sound of a peck on a cheek. They were things that were so often just the background noise to Vincent’s life, that he could easily tune them out in favor of seeing if the girls in the movie would confess or not. Kevin’s arm slowly moved away from Vincent’s shoulder, he shuddered at the loss of warmth and finally looked up to see what was happening beyond the movie. Kevin’s retreated hand found its way to Vincent’s thigh, squeezing it firmly as he nibbled on Adrian’s ear. Adrian, who was currently making out with Felix, subtle moans already starting to form in his throat.

As appealing as the scene before him was, Vincent knew already that tonight was not the night he wanted to do this. All he wanted to do was cuddle up with his boyfriends and finish the movie, but they had other plans. Not wanting to impede their pleasure, Vincent resisted as Kevin tried to pull him off of the couch. “Not tonight guys,” He said, laying down on the couch, looking up at the men currently standing up, about to move to the bedroom, “I’m gonna finish the movie, you guys have fun.”

Kevin knelt down, his warm hand brushing the hair out of Vincent’s face, “Are you sure?” he asked, “‘Cuz if you’d rather, we can all finish the movie and-”

“No,” Vincent interrupted, he could already see the hard-on blooming in Kevin’s pants as he knelt down beside him, and Adrian’s face was already his signature shade of beet red as he gazed at Vincent too, they wouldn’t enjoy the movie now anyways, “go have fun, really.” Kevin gave Vincent’s face a good look for another few seconds before pressing a kiss to his forehead and disappearing into the bedroom with Felix and Adrian.

Vincent grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair, laying down on the couch. The heat from where the other three had been sitting moments ago was still there, but it was quickly fading. Vincent could finish movie night by himself, maybe get some cleaning done around the apartment, then, when his boyfriends were finished, he could cuddle up with them and fall asleep. That would be nice. The movie was getting better and better by the second, the girls having finally confessed, went on a date, which was currently being interrupted by one of their ex’s.

A loud moan of pleasure ripped through the apartment, covering up the audio to the pivotal scene. No one was louder than Adrian, that’s for sure, and while it was hot when he was participating, Vincent felt more like an annoyed neighbor than a loving boyfriend. He didn’t dare turn up the TV, though, he wouldn’t want even more noise complaints. The moans showed no signs of stopping anytime soon, so Vincent paused the movie, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door, locking it behind him. There was no way he’d be able to concentrate, let alone hear the rest of the movie, and with his relaxing night interrupted, he didn’t have the heart to clean. A nice drive would do him good. The blonde moved down the stairs of the apartment complex, into the parking garage, and clicked his key to remember just where he had parked. His car gave a satisfying beep that echoed through the enclosed space.

Vincent climbed into his convertible, whose roof was currently up, turned it on, and quickly made his way out of the garage and onto one of the main roads. Vincent rolled down his window, letting the wind fall softly across his face. None of the stations were playing anything that interested him, and Vincent didn’t feel like hooking up his own phone, so he turned it off, basking in the silence.

Silence rarely brings good things to a mind in crisis.

Bored, Vincent’s mind began to wander to his boyfriends. He hoped they were having a good time together, but it was hard to imagine any of those three could leave the others unsatisfied, so there wasn’t too much to worry about there. Did they miss him?

A sudden red light had Vincent slamming on the break, stopping his car, but not his thoughts. Did they miss him? Of course they did, the logical side of Vincent’s head said, but the more he thought about it, the more unsure he grew. They were probably having mind-blowing sex over at home, he probably handn’t appeared in their thoughts since the second they closed the bedroom door. Why would they? He wasn’t there providing them pleasure, he almost never was. For some reason, Vincent’s sex drive was just never as high as the others, he was always turning them down, day after day. It was only a matter of time before they stopped trying to include him, it was only a matter of time before they-

“MOVE IT ASSHOLE!” A scream accompanied by a cluster of honks brought Vincent back to; the light was green. Vincent slammed on the accelerator, taking off once again. He really shouldn’t be driving if he was going to keep getting distracted, so he signaled and turned into a parking lot, rolling his window back up. He leaned back in his seat, eyes gazing up at nothing in particular. Maybe he was broken. That had to be it. There was asexuality, but Vincent was sure that didn’t describe him. He liked sex, he wanted to have sex, at least every once in a while, and he thought his boyfriends were incredibly sexy, so what was the problem?

Tears began to sting in his eyes. The problem must lie within himself. They’d see that soon, wouldn’t they? He hoped to whatever gods were out there in the universe that they’d never see the problem, but Felix, Adrian, and Kevin were smart. They’d realize it eventually, and he… where would he fit in once they realized?

Tears free-flowed down his face now. Vincent didn’t bother trying to stop them, just letting himself silently cry. Thoughts swirled around his head, too frantically for Vincent to stop them. They clouded his mind as his tears clouded his vision. A sudden buzz of his phone pulled him out of his thoughts for a moment. He picked it up and was greeted by a picture of Felix flipping the camera off. Why was Felix calling him so soon? It was only...Vincent had been in the car much longer than he thought he had. Taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to compose himself, Vincent picked up the phone.

“Vince, where are you?” Felix’s voice sounded in his ear with that slightly groggily tone his voice always got right after sex. Vincent could tell he was on speaker “Your keys are gone.”

“Yeah, I…” Vincent looked out the window, looking for an excuse that wouldn’t expose his hurt, “The movie got boring so I thought I’d get us some ice cream.”

“Ooh!” Adrian interrupted before Vincent could say more, secretly he was grateful as he could feel his throat beginning to tighten again. “Get me cotton candy please!” Kevin and Felix called out their orders, cookies and cream and mint chocolate chip respectively, after Adrian. Vincent hummed in acknowledgment, before letting out a quick “love you” and hanging up the phone. Something about their cheery attitudes made him want to start crying again, but he forcefully held the tears in, hoping his eyes wouldn’t look too blotchy when he got home.

Vincent quickly made his way through the drive-through, ordering the three ice creams, not bothering to order one for himself. His stomach was in knots, and the thought of eating made him more nauseous than anything. He turned the radio up, not particularly caring what blasted through his speakers, only wanting something to keep his mind away from dark thoughts. When he arrived back at the parking garage Vincent thanked his past self for putting concealer in his glove compartment. He quickly touched up his under eyes, masking the remnants of red that remained on his face, then finally left the car to take the elevator upstairs.

The living room to the apartment was still empty when Vincent finally unlocked the door, stepping inside. Vincent let out a slight shiver as a blast of cold air from the apartment hit him. He made his way to the bedroom. There he found Felix, Adrian, and Kevin cuddled against each other. Felix was dressed in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, Adrian in Kevin’s shirt, and Kevin in nothing but his underwear. Vincent was glad that they at least dressed before he came home, but the room, which still smelt strongly of sex with a bottle of lube haphazardly strung onto the floor, still gave away what activities they had been partaking in. Vincent handed out the ice creams, flopping into bed next to Felix when he was finally done.

Kevin reached over and stroked Vincent’s arm, “Didn’t you get yourself any, baby?” He asked through a spoonful of his treat.

Vincent hesitated for a moment before nodding, “Already ate it,” he lied.

“God,” Adrian called out from beside Kevin, “Cotton candy ice cream is the best.” He moaned in delight, savoring the sweet taste of his ice cream. Vincent slightly tensed at the moan, broken, his mind called out.

Vincent leaped out of bed, “I’m gonna go do the dishes,” he said, not facing his boyfriends. If he got one look at them he knew he’d cry again.

“What?” Adrian whined, “But cuddles? Dishes can wait.”

“I won’t be able to relax knowing the dishes aren’t done, I-” He tried to get more words out, but his breath hitched slightly. Praying his boyfriends didn’t notice, he quickly escaped the room for the kitchen. There really weren’t many dishes in the sink, just a few plates, cups, and silverware lay. It could have waited till morning, Adrian was right, Vincent knew that, but he turned on the sink anyways. The rush of water from the faucet did nothing to cover up his returning bad thoughts. Why couldn’t he be more normal? He couldn’t even eat ice cream with his boyfriends, couldn’t even cuddle up with them, and relax because his brain just wouldn’t stop thinking. His throat began closing in on itself as his hands shook from the exertion of keeping the tears inside. He wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t place that burden on his boyfriends. They were already burdened enough to have him in their lives, right?

CRASH

The glass that Vincent had been washing slipped from his hands unceremoniously and fell to the ground, smashing into hundreds of pieces. A piece ground horribly into his calf, leaving an angry red mark that began to bleed, but the pain of the scratch was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. The broken cup, as broken as him, would be yet another burden on Felix, Adrian, and Kevin. Ignoring the blood, ignoring the loud sobs that had finally begun racking his body, Vincent kneeled on the ground, trying to pick up the mess with shaking hands.

Before he could satisfyingly clean up his mess, a pair of hands grabbed his, forcing the glass back onto the floor. Vincent tried to pull away, the only thing on his mind was cleaning up the mess, not being a burden on his boyfriends, maybe they’d keep him around longer if he did this. “Vincent,” A voice called out, stern and full of concern. The blonde refused to turn towards the voice, just struggling to get to the glass, “Vincent,” the voice called out again, “You’re bleeding.”

Those words caused Vincent to snap back. He looked down through still misty eyes at his own hands, which were still being held still by the wrists. Blood was leaking out of his palms from the shards of glass that had embedded themselves into his skin, the blood dripped onto the floor and onto the hands of the hands holding his. “We’re gonna get you cleaned up, okay.” The voice from earlier, that Vincent finally recognized as Kevin’s, said softly into his ear. Vincent nodded, allowing Kevin to help him up and walk towards the couch. Kevin supported Vincent as he slowly sat down, then sat next to the blonde, keeping him close. Soon enough, Adrian came running in with the first aid kit, his glasses slightly foggy from the exertion of running around looking for it.

Felix grabbed the first aid kit from the nerd, kneeling down in front of Vincent and grabbing the worst injured hand. They all sat in silence for a while as Felix fished out the glass shards from Vincent’s hands with a pair of tweezers. Vincent whimpered from the pain, hiding his face in Kevin’s neck, reveling in the warmth of his presence. Tears continued to leisurely roll down Vincent’s face; tears from the pain and because of the lingering smell of sex that permeated around him. Adrian sat opposite of Kevin, rubbing the prep’s shoulder supportively. “You’re doing so good, baby.” Kevin was the first to speak, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead. Vincent’s tears leaked out of his eyes with renewed vigor at the simple, loving action.

When his hands and leg were properly cleaned and bandaged, Felix placed gentle kisses against his hands. “This isn’t just about the cup, is it?” Adrian asked, cuddling closer to the crying figure, “You…you were acting off for a bit there. If you wanna talk about it, we’re here for you, Vince.”

Vincent really didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want the burden of his own brokenness, his own feelings, to be dropped on his boyfriends, but sitting there being held by the three men he loves more than anything or anyone in the universe, he couldn’t help it. “I-” Vincent choked on a sob, “Why do you guys keep me around?”

There was silence for only a brief second before Felix bolted up grasping Vincent’s face in his shaking hands, “Why would you say that Vince?” His slightly calloused fingers wiped tears away from the prep’s face.

“I mean, I’m broken.” Vincent averted his eyes from Felix’s, looking down at his own empty palms, “Who’d want a boyfriend who never wants to have sex?” The three other boys opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but Vincent only continued, “I mean, tonight, you guys were...were together and...and I could only think about how jealous I was. About how much I just wanted to cuddle on the couch with you guys, but...but if I told you to stay, you’d find out how broken I really am. Can’t have sex, can’t communicate, hell, I can’t even wash the dishes right.”

Felix’s hand slowed to a stop on Vincent’s face, “Look at me, sweetheart,” he said softly, gently encouraging Vincent’s face to move upwards, but he refused. “Vincent, please look at me, please.” His voice cracked slightly. At that sound, Vincent finally looked back up at Felix, whose eyes were now flooded with tears to match his. “You are not broken,” he said firmly, “and I will not sit here and let you talk about yourself like that.”

“But it’s-”

“You have always been there for me when I’m feeling dysphoric. When I look in the mirror and all I see is a girl, you’re there to help me find myself again. You shut me down when I insult myself, so like hell am I’m gonna sit here and let you do that to yourself.” Felix’s forehead met Vincent’s, whispering against it, “please let me, let us, help you see the you we see.”

Two more heads made their way towards Felix and Vincent’s, tears rolling down their faces as well, “We’ll keep you around forever,” Kevin murmured into Vincent’s collarbone, “You’ve done so much for us, you’re so good.”

“I’d never have sex again if it meant keeping you by our side,” Adrian sobbed, grasping Vincent’s shirt that had long grown damp from the four men’s tears.

Vincent wanted to insist that he didn’t have to do that, but his tears stopped his words. They were no longer tears of sadness, or fear, or self-hatred. They were tears of happiness. His boyfriends, the men he loves more than anyone else in the world, were there by his side. Vincent’s eyes may only see the bad in himself, but their eyes? They saw an amazing man whom they love, who may not be perfect, but who is? The flaws Vincent saw were perfections to them, and Vincent felt all that love at that moment. So much love, it was almost too much to bear.

After a while of crying together, Vincent finally spoke again, laughing slightly through tears, “your guy’s ice cream is probably melted.”

“Who cares,” Kevin said, “Who needs ice cream when we have you?” And so the boys stayed, enjoying each other's embrace, wiping each other’s tears, while the three melted ice creams and the broken cup lay forgotten until morning.

[dadolorian]

Seven Days of Valentines, (Diamonds and Daddies side story) Whiskey x F!Reader CH 2

A/N: Thanks to @talesfromtheguild​ for Beta reading and helping me with many ideas for this! This will be a weekly series leading up to Valentines Day

I try to keep Readers physical appearance as open as possible for this story, but please note in these chapters shes going to become more of a ‘character’, some specific interests of hers are going to come into play.

This is canon to the main Diamonds and Daddies story, but i am uploading as its own thing. You do not need to have read Diamonds and Daddies to read this, just know its a fic about Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels being a Sugar Daddy and the reader is a professional Sugar Baby.

Fandom: Kingsman the golden circle Ship: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Cis F!reader  Warning/tags: established relationship, fluff, semi-public sex, sex against a window, P in V sex, fingering, Oral (M and F receiving) , multiple orgasms, slight over stimulation, dirty talk, choking, Daddy kink, DD/LG/BDSM style relationship, creampie,biting/marking, possessive language, aftercare, Jacks both a gentleman and a DIRTY BASTARD, Reader is 100% into it all

Word count: 6K +

My master list Seven days of Valentines masterlist  AO3 LINK Buy me a Kofi

Summary: Whiskey whisks his Sugar baby away for a romantic Valentine’s getaway. Day two he takes her to see her favorite work of art. 

Tuesday  9th of February

The second morning in Rome started with an early morning makeout session, soft, gentle kisses roused you from sleep, followed by a shower and a traditional Italian breakfast delivered to your suite as the two of you sat watching people make their way to the coliseum. 

The coffee and crespelles were a perfect way to start the day, made all the more better by Jack’s large hand resting on your thigh, drawing gentle patterns with his thumb as you each sipped your mugs in comfortable silence. 

By eight thirty AM the two of you were dressed in your warm clothes and out the door, ready to partake in whatever adventure Jack had planned. 

You sat literally on the edge of your seat in excitement as you were driven around Rome to our destination for the day. Jack warmly chuckled beside you at your boundless enthusiasm, smiling wider to himself as you began snapping pictures along the way of the general beauty that was Rome. 

Once you were dropped off Jack took your hand in his, leading the way up the road and round the corner. You practically hummed in excitement beside him, bouncing in glee as the large walls of Vatican City loomed over you. 

“Jaaaacccckkkk!” you squealed delightedly, as he led you to the back of a growing queue. “Are we going where I think we’re going?” 

He chuckled at your excitement again. “Couldn't take my girl to Rome without letting her see her favorite work of art could I?” 

You bounced in place, trying to express your excitement and gratitude in any articulate way you could, you cupped his face and pulled him down for an expressive kiss on his cheek. 

“You have no idea how excited I am Jack!” You elated, almost jumping for joy beside him. 

He tried to calm you down and keep you still by resting his hands on your hips, pulling you to his front in a gentle embrace. 

“I have a fair idea Sugar,” he hummed, kissing your brow affectionately. “I remember when you mentioned wanting to visit Rome, on our New Year's trip, just a passing comment, but your eyes lit up when you mentioned the Sistine Chapel, I just knew I had to take you one day Darlin.” 

Your hands rested lightly on his chest, with your gaze cast down you smiled, tenderly remembering the brief exchange you had shared months prior. At the time you never took much note of your conversation, having forgotten all about it until Jack had surprised you with this trip, but clearly Jack had taken notice, and went through great pains to make your wish you had barely ever shared before a reality. 

You had lost count of the amount of times he proved himself of how utterly perfect he was for you was incalculable. 

He amazed you every day, outdoing himself with each little surprise or adoring words, each grand gesture or gentle peck, each casual touch or passionate kiss.

Jack Daniels, as cocky, ridiculous, and flirtatious as he was, was everything you had ever hoped for. 

“I wish I knew, just how to show my gratitude to you Jack,” you whispered softly to him.

He gently pulled your gaze back up to meet his.

 “Darlin, you don’t need to do anything other than stay with me. You’ve made this lonely heart feel something again for the first time in years, and that's more than enough for me.” 

Your lower lip wobbled and your eyes threatened to spill, Jack preemptively stopped your sappy tears from spilling with a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Come on Darlin, lines moving.”  

Jack walked arm in arm with you throughout the whole tour of Vatican city, your gaze was often fixed to the beautiful architecture or paintings, but everytime you glanced over at Jack, his eyes were fixed on you. You had his whole attention, not the paintings, not the tour guide, you. 

“Jack?” You asked softly, concerned he was only humoring you and didn't actually care about anything you were seeing. “Aren't you interested in all this?”

“Oh I am Darlin,” he reassured. “But I love watching the way your eyes light up, better than any painting here.” 

“You’re just trying to butter me up Cowboy,” you smiled up at him. 

“Can’t help it Sugar, pretty thing like you on my arm? Who can blame me?” 

“You flatter me Jack, You’ve been sweet talking me from the moment we met, I don't even think you would know how to stop,” you teased. 

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. 

“No Darlin, I don't think I would know how to either.” 

It was impossible to express just how fantastical it felt to see some of the famous pieces found in the Vatican museum, Raphael’s ‘Transfiguration’, The statue of Laocoön and his sons, The Vision of St. Helen , Da Vinci's St. Jerome in Wilderness, masterpieces you had only ever seen photos of on the internet or in your meager collection of art History books. Completely indescribable.  But these experiences paled in comparison to seeing Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam, photos could not compare to how breathtaking it was. It loomed above you, alongside dozens of other High Renaissance masterpieces, but your eyes were pulled back to that one each time. 

You imagined Michelangelo, centuries ago, in his genius, laying on his back atop the precarious scaffolding as he painted it, how grueling it was, how long it took.

You never thought you would ever see it, not in person, it had been such a fantasy to you you had never really mentioned it before until Jack had asked you those months ago.

Daddies had taken you on vacations before, trips to sunny beaches and tropical getaways, when they wanted to impress you and have you show some skin, but not once had they ever asked you where you wanted to go, what you wanted to see. 

There had been no desire to share your interests, to take you to experience culture and art over bikinis and parties. Jack had been right, you had been with some shit Daddies before you met him. 

The picturesque beaches and clear oceans may have been pretty to look at, but it couldn't hold a candle to the beauty above you.  

Standing there, with your neck strained up at the ceiling, your eyes began to water for the umpteenth time since you had landed in Italy, but you willed them away this time, focusing on the painting to burn the experience into your memory and refusing to let the tears fog your vision as emotions overwhelmed you once again. 

“Baby?” Jack’s soft voice cut in, his arms wrapped around your middle as he came up behind you, kissing your forehead. “You good?”

“Perfect, Jack,” you whispered back, giving your neck a break by resting the back of your head on him. 

“Everything you ever dreamed about?” He asked, following your gaze to the painting.

“Better,” you sighed, squeezing his arms around you. 

You clung to Jack’s arm as you made your way out of Vatican city and back to the streets of Rome. He patted your hand affectionately, placing a kiss to your temple. 

You had been so...so... moved, by Jack's surprise, by the artworks, by the experience and you knew you couldn’t express it to him. And you knew he knew.

You were beginning to understand the magnitude of his affections, he wasn’t just trying to impress you, to show off and boost his ego like many men before him. 

No, Jack's masculinity wasn’t so fragile that he had to prove himself like that, he may flash his money for you, to buy you trinkets and clothes just as they all had before, but the way he went about it was so different. 

Stuff wasn’t what he relied on to keep you with him, no, he kept you by his side by paying attention, by caring about you, for you.

He wanted to make you happy, truly, and he expected nothing from you in return apart from your companionship. 

His words from earlier in the day were really starting to strike a chord with you.

“You’ve made this lonely heart feel something again for the first time in years.”

You looked up at him from the corner of your eye as he led you through the streets. He seems to know where he wanted to go, and you trusted him not to get you lost. 

“Jack,” you whispered softly. “I-” 

“Don’t need to say a thing Baby,” he interrupted. “I know.” 

“But, I-” you sighed. “How?” 

“How do I know?” he asked, amused. “Baby you thank me every damn time I do something for you, no matter how big or small, I've picked up on a few things. I can tell when you’re struggling to figure out how to thank me.” 

He stopped in his tracks, guiding you to his front and pulling one of your hands up to his lips to kiss it. 

“You tear up when something specially meaningful, those are the times you can’t figure out what to say,” he cupped your face in his large, warm hands. They felt nice against the chill that had clung to your cheeks. “But you don’t need to say anything Sugar, I can tell just by lookin at’cha you’re grateful. It made you happy, that's all I wanted. I don’t need a ‘thank you’, I just need you.” 

Your lip wobbled and you pouted up at him, making him chuckle. 

“See? Just like that, and I get yer waterworks running,” he teased, thumb wiping a tear that was threatening to spill.

You rolled your eyes and swatted his chest playfully. 

“None of that Darlin” he laughed, ducking his head to kiss you. “My Baby gets all sappy for Daddy’s sweet words huh?”

“Don’t get cocky,” you giggled, trying to duck from him gleefully. 

“Thought you liked me ‘cocky’,” he joked as you turned and tried to walk off, pulling you back into his grip, back flush against his front. “Specially when it’s inside-” 

“Jack! People are watching!” you laughed, swatting at him over your shoulder, grateful at least your conversation wasn't too loud and probably not understood by the locals who rolled their eyes at the childish tourists as they passed. 

He laughed merrily, letting you go and gently taking your hand. 

“Such a killjoy,” he joked, leading the two of you again. “Come on then Sugar, lets get some lunch.”

Lunch  turned out to be in this adorable local cafe hidden down many sidestreets. 

Jack told him a work colleague told him about the hidden gem, unknown to most tourists, and had made a point to bring you there. 

You sat inside, safe from the bitter cold as you sipped your hot drinks and shared croissants and muffins.

Silence passes between you, as you watch from your window the small trickle of locals walk by, trudging through the remaining snow slush, on their way to wherever it was they were going.  It was a perfect way to relax after your tour, Jack told you to enjoy it while it lasted, because he had one more surprise for the day. 

Jack’s second surprise was a tour of Castel sant'angelo. 

It was originally built as a mausoleum, over the centuries it became a fortress and castle, in modern times, it had become a museum. 

“Two museum tours in one day?” You asked, humming as the two of you walked over the beautifully sculpted bridge leading up to the impressive building hand in hand. 

“Well with it being so close to the Vatican, I thought ‘Why not?’ , and I know how much my Baby appreciates her art and history,” he smiled.

Taking his words from earlier to hear, you thanked him with just a kiss on the cheek.

Jack insisted the two of you could walk back to your hotel by the time you were kicked out of the castle at closing time. 

‘Just a forty minute walk’ he promised.

You pouted at him, shaking your head no.  

“My feet are killing me Jack,” you whined. 

“Won't it be romantic though Baby?” He asked, trying to convince you.“Walking through the streets of Rome at night? Just the two of us?” 

 It did sound nice, in theory, but the sky was clouded over, your feet hurt, the ground was covered in slush and it was starting to seep into your supposedly waterproof boots. 

“My toes are going numb and it’s freezing Jack!” 

“But Baby-”

“Daddy,” you sniveled, trying to appeal to his dominant, caring role over you. You wrapped your arms around yourself to block out the cold as the temperature dropped further. It was bearable in the day, sunlight and warm clothes enough to keep you reasonably warm. But you weren't dressed with the expectation of being outdoors too long, and as the snow began to fall you pulled yourself to his chest, snuggling into his warmth. 

“Please Daddy, I don't want to walk like this.” 

He sighed and wrapped an arm around you, caving to his instincts to care for you. 

“Alright then, let me call a cab Honey Bee,” he relented, pulling out his phone. 

You groaned when you made your way into the hotel room, throwing the keycard on the table and collapsing by the door , tearing off your boots and letting your soaked, numb toes free. 

Jack chuckled at your dramatic behaviour, not removing any of his gear much to your confusion. 

“There’s a few more presents on the bed for you,” he smiled, heat in his eyes and flashing his canines at you as he crouched down in front of you, stroking your cheek. “Want you to go in there and put them on-” 

“Jack, my feet are too sore for any heels toni-”

“No heels, Honey Bee,” he said, his tone and use of your moniker a clear warning for you to fall in line. “You’ll like it, I promise. Now go open your presents and get dressed while I go pick up dinner.” 

He stood up as you nodded and took his hand when he offered it, helping you up and grabbing the keycard from where you discarded it.

“Be back soon Baby,” he smiled as he opened the door and left. 

Alone, you padded into the bedroom, your feet grateful for the plush carpet as you made your way over to the bed. 

Laid out across the sheets was a beautiful little pair of pink and black satin sleep shorts, a matching bralette, a cute pair of pink fluffy bunny slippers, and a long fuzzy pink gown. You ran your fingers over the material of them all, amazed at how soft they all were. 

Atop your outfit for the night was another folded up note. You picked it up carefully and opened it up, greeted by Jack’s familiar scrawl once again. 

“Day two of seven, I know your feet must be real sore today Baby, I hope a relaxing evening with Daddy makes up for it. Get dressed and go pick out a movie out in the livin room for me.  Happy Valentine’s Week Sugar,  Love Jack” 

You softened, reading his words, again as you folded the note back up and began redressing. 

The satin felt even smoother as it covered your skin, and the fuzzy robe and slippers helped warm you up after your cold trip back to your suite. 

Once dressed you wandered out into the living area,  delighted to see the couch covered in soft blankets and pillows, a gift hamper sat on the coffee table containing sweets, a bottle of wine, glasses and some foot lotion. Your heart warmed at the thoughtfulness of it all and how intimately comfortable it was.

As you snuggled under one of the blankets and flicked on the TV, scrolling through movie options you heard the keycard beep and the door unlock. 

“Back Darlin!” Jack called from the entranceway , you heard him put something down and head to the bedroom. 

He joined you a few minutes later, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips and his trademark stetson, carrying a large pizza box. 

You smiled and bit your lip, admiring his little tummy that you loved so much.

He placed the box on the coffee table and snuggled under the blanket with you. 

“Pick something out Baby?” He asked, one arm over the back of the couch and other hand wandering up your thigh under your robe and resting there. 

“I think so,” you hummed, relaxing back into his embrace and warmth, head resting on his shoulder. “Sci-Fi movie by the looks of it.” 

“Prospect?” Jack questioned. “Don’t usually sound like our kinda thing Darlin.” 

“Yeah, but one of the actors caught my eye in the preview clips,” you giggled. “He looks like you Daddy.” 

He quirked his eyebrow at you and gave you a shrug, letting you click play as he pulled the pizza and wine over for you to share. 

You almost choked on your pizza when the actor showed up and Jack exclaimed in annoyance that he looked nothing like him. 

“What are you talking about?” You laughed. “He could be your twin!” 

“I know for a fact my Mamma only gave birth to one Daniels boy thank you very much!” He proclaimed. 

You giggled hysterically, curling into him, trying not to knock the pizza box onto the floor. 

“He’s just you with more scruff!” You gasped for breath between your laughter. “Listen to him he’s even got a southern accent too!” 

“I resent being compared to a scruffy, sweaty, bastard space man who talks so damn weird Darlin!” 

You covered your mouth, biting back a sassy comment about the ‘talks weird’ comment and tried to compose yourself. 

“How can you not see it?” You asked when you finally calmed down. “The similarities are scary.”

The two of you eventually agreed to disagree as you finished your pizza and wine and moved on to a few after dinner chocolates from the hamper. 

Jack rubbed your feet with the lotion as you lay on the couch sideways, easing the tension and soreness from your feet in his lap as the movie went on. You melted to his touch, unwinding from the long day on your feet. 

You had taken quite a liking to the southern spaceman with the silver tongue, much to Jack's growing annoyance, he grumbled as you cooed at the man on screen.

But as irritated as he was, he pulled you to his side in comfort as you watched your little crush have his arm amputated, hiding your face in Jack’s chest throughout the difficult scene. 

“Poor Ezra,” you murmured when the scene was over. 

Jack rolled his eyes and kissed the crown of your head. “I don’t know what you see in him Darlin.” 

“He’s your scoundrel, space-cowboy twin Jack. What’s not to like?” 

“Think you need your eyes checked Darlin. I might actually be bothered ‘bout your little infatuation if you didn’t insist so damn hard that he looked like me.” 

You giggled and settled down again against his bare chest.

“Hmm...”

“What are you hmming about over there?”

“You’d look good with a little blonde patch.”

“Shut up.”

When the credits rolled Jack switched off the TV, shrouding the room in darkness and stood up, gently pulling you up to your feet beside him. You were tired after such a long day, and the movie and snuggles afterwards only made you more tired.

He rested his hands on your hips and gave you a tender, soft kiss. 

“You like your new jammies Baby?” He asked, smiling when you nodded. “Yeah? You look so dang cute in them.” 

He nuzzled his nose against yours. 

“Is my Baby too tired tonight? Or do you want to have some playtime with Daddy before bed?”

You whined in response, resting your hands on his chest. 

“I always want to play with you Daddy.” 

“Oh I know you do Baby, but Daddy thinks you need your rest. Bed time for you I think.” 

“I don’t want to go to bed Daddy.” 

“Think you’re awake enough for it Honey Bee?” he asked, gently shoving your new robe off of your shoulders and onto the floor. 

“Yes,” you nodded. 

“Prove it,” he rasped, firmly pushing you to your knees in front of the couch and pulling his sweats down enough for his balls and hardening cock to hook over them. 

You licked your lips and looked up at him, taking him in your hand at the base. His eyes burned into yours as you opened your mouth and began kitten licking at his tip, circling your tongue around him.

You kissed him, from base to tip, worshipping his cock. 

He moaned at your teasing little touches and you felt him twitch in your hand, hardening slowly under your touch. 

‘That's it Baby, Get Daddy nice and hard,” he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back to lose himself to the feeling of you coaxing his cock.

You felt the crotch of your sleep shorts become wet, aroused by his raspy voice and lewd moans. But you kept your hands where they were, on his thigh and cock, knowing if you touched yourself without permission his ‘playtime’ with you would become a (delicious) punishment. 

You relaxed your jaw and took him into your mouth, letting your tongue run along the underside of his length as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your mouth. 

He let out a loud guttural moan, hands cupping your head to keep you in place. 

“Hmmmmm fuck Baby!” He spat, looking back down at you and gently thrusting his hips into your face, careful not to choke you. “You’ve gotten so good at that! Can take me so well now can’t cha? Almost all the way!” 

He rocked into you slowly, now fully erect in your mouth, you concentrated on breathing through your nose as he pushed himself deeper with each thrust. 

You had succeeded in taking him easier than when you first had gotten together, but it was still a struggle to truly deepthroat him and supress your gag reflex, so far you had never managed to take him all in before you backed out. You kept your hand on his thigh, ready to tap out when needed. 

Your eyes never left his face, and his never left your lips, watching as inch by inch his cock went further into your mouth. 

“Breathe Baby,” he encouraged, hungrily watching his spit covered cock push and pull in and out of you. “If you can take me all the way in tonight Baby, I’ll give you a big reward.” 

You mewled around him, excited by his promise of a reward. He always delivered on those promises in a spectacular way. 

You took a deep breath through your nose and relaxed your throat as best you could, successfully taking him further, your jaw hurt and your throat protested as he pushed in even deeper. 

Your eyes watered as your lips finally met the groomed hair at his base. You blinked up at him, waiting for approval and praise for having taken him all the way for the first time triumphantly.

“Hnnng! Fuck! Good girl! Good Girl!” he panted, watching you, transfixed on the way his cock looked shoved all the way down your throat. “Perfect, warm wet little mouth fuck!” 

He reached down cautiously, fingers tracing over your neck gently, feeling the bulge in your throat. You whined, feeling light headed as he gripped your neck and squeezed lightly, he gave an experimental thrust, even with the awkward angle and groaned at the feeling of his own hand squeezing your throat tighter around him. 

“Oh fuck Honey Bee I’m so deep,” he moaned, squeezing tighter, making you more light headed. “Doin such a good job, you need to tap out Sugar?” 

You shook your head no as best you could, head swimming and body buzzing as he chokes you with his hand and cock. 

“Can feel my fat cock moving inside you Baby, so damn hot, making me even fucking harder.” 

He kept thrusting into your throat slowly, careful to not actually choke you. You were getting a little high from the lack of oxygen, far more aroused by it than you ever thought you could be. You only tapped out when black dots started to swim in your vision. 

Jack pulled free without hesitation, crouching in front of you to check you were alright as the obstruction in your throat was gone and your lungs heaved in oxygen. 

You gulped down air hungrily as Jack kissed your face in praise. 

 “Did so well baby, so proud of you, you took me all the way,” he murmured, nose nuzzling along your hairline. He waited for you to be ready to continue , and when your breathing had calmed and you gave him a nod to continue, he kissed your forehead, stood up and pulled you to your feet with him. 

“As promised, my little girl deserves her reward,” he growled, nodding over to an armchair by the sliding door. “Go sit,” he ordered softly. 

You scrambled to comply, anticipating your reward with glee. 

He sauntered over, discarding his stetson on the coffee table before kneeling down in front of you, hooking his fingers into your sleep shorts. 

“Up,” he gently instructed, pulling them down your legs as you lifted your hips for him.

He brought the shorts up to his face and inhaled your scent, licking up the crotch of them to taste the juices that soaked them. 

“My baby tastes so good,” he praised, discarding the shorts over his shoulder. “Spread ‘em wide for me Sugar,” he said, gently coaxing your leg apart and licking his lips. 

He didn’t tease, intent on giving you your much deserved reward as he drank you down and shoved his tongue deep into your dripping hole. 

Your back arched, eyes closed and thighs shook, he pulled them over his shoulders to give himself more room, his strong arms wrapped around your thighs to hold them still.

You whimpered in delight, gripping his hair and pulling him deeper, his eyes cut up at you, letting you know that at any other time, an action would not be tolerated, and he would have you reprimanded for being greedy. 

But this was your reward, you deserved it. 

Jack did not hide his messy noises as he ate you out like a man starved, wet smacks of his lips on your lower lips, the sound of his skin coming into contact with your dripping thighs, his moans and your sounds of pleasure filled the room. 

You gasped when you felt a thick finger prod at your hole, pushing up into you beside his tongue. Your head snapped down to watch as he slowly pumped his finger into you, his tongue began lapping up your folds until he reached your clit, suckling on it gently. 

“Daddy!” You whimpered, pushing your hips up further into his face. 

He gave you a cocky grin as a second finger joined the first, stretching you out so perfectly, his fingers were so much thicker than yours, fuck you loved his fingers so much, and he knew just where to stroke to make your body sing. In such a short time he had learnt your body better than you ever had. 

“My Baby wants to cum?” He asked, running his tongue over your folds again. 

“Yes, please Daddy,” you pleaded. 

“Daddy prefers when you’re patient Baby. But you earned it tonight,” he growled, standing up with his fingers still inside you. Your legs dropped from his shoulders as he leant over you to nibble at your ear, you felt your juices that still coating his jaw as his skin met yours.

He abandoned his slow pumps of his hand, fucking you hard and fast with his skilled fingers. You keened under him, writhing at the sudden change. 

“Look outside that window Baby,” he ordered in your ear hotly. “There's still people out and about, all they have to do is look up here, and they’d see you getting fucked by my hand.” 

You felt your core clench around his fingers at his words, a wave of your arousal flooding out, soaking his hand. 

“You like that idea Sugar? You like the idea of some stranger seeing my fingers buried in this pussy?”

You whimpered and tried to thrust up into his hand. 

“Answer the question!” He growled.

“Y-Yes Daddy!” You cried, panting hard as you felt your pleasure building. 

“Yeah? You get off on the idea of someone else seeing you? Seeing what’s mine?”

He sucked a mark into your neck, hoping it would show tomorrow, his secret little claim. 

“Want everyone to see you? Like some kind of common whore? You’re mine Baby, don’t you forget that.” 

“T-that's what i want them to see!” You whined, racing towards the edge, hoping he wouldn’t deny you as he often did to tease. “I want them to see who-who I belong to!”

He growled in approval. 

“Yeah? What else Baby?” He asked, encouraging your line of thought. 

“W-want them to see...That you’re- you’re the only one who can make me cum, that you’re the only one good enough!” 

“Oh Baby you sure know what to say to stroke your Daddy’s ego,” he hummed in pride. “Go on then, show them, show anyone watching how hard Daddy makes you cum.” 

You were already well on your way to your pleasure when he gave you permission to cum, but he helped you along by diving down and sucking hard on your clit. 

Your back arched further as you screamed out his name, your walls clenching hard over his furious fingers, as they attacked that sweet deep spot inside you on a mission. 

It hurt how powerful your orgasm was, how hard his fingers fucked you through it. And as it washed over you you were ready for him to pull out, for him to let you come down from your high, but his fingers did not slow. 

You mewled, sensitive and sore from your first orgasm as you felt him forcing your body towards a second one already. 

“D-Daddy, too- too much!” You whined, wriggling in his grasp. 

“Yeah?” he asked, his teasing tone told you he didn’t believe you, he moved his head away from your clit to look you in the eyes, speeding up his fingers. “What’s your color then?”

Your hips began thrusting up to meet his hand again. 

“Color Baby?” He reminded. 

“Green,” bucking up hard now into his hand to chase your fast approaching second high. 

“Thought so,” he hummed, taking your nipple into his mouth through your bralette, gently sucking on it and tugging it with his teeth. 

When he had soaked the fabric and thoroughly teased you he released it.

“You’re going to cum again for me, that's your reward. Daddys going to make you cum so hard your pretty little pussy will be ruined tomorrow.” 

You sobbed under him, anticipating how tantalizingly sore you would be with great delight. 

“Come on, be a good little girl for me and cum,” he cooed, grabbing your jaw with his free hand to make you look at him, his face only inches away from yours. 

“Cum for Daddy, and I’ll fuck you right up against that window for everyone to watch.” 

Your stomach flipped at the thought and your core tightened around his fingers again. 

“If it weren't so damn cold out there I’d fuck you right on that balcony, so the whole of Rome can hear your screams for me.” 

He brushed your clit with his thumb as the words fell from his mouth, pushing you over the edge for a second time. 

“That's it Baby, cum for Daddy,” he cooed softly, lips ghosting yours. “Squeezing my fingers so tight. Can't wait till my cocks all snug up in there, my favorite, perfect little hole.” 

His words made your second orgasm just as powerful as the first, you shook hard in your chair and screamed loudly until your voice was hoarse. You tried to muffle the scream with your hands which, until now,  had been gripping the armrest for dear life ever since Jack removed himself from between your legs. 

He was having none of that however, grabbing your wrists in his hand and pulling them away from your face to hear your screams of pleasure. 

He coaxed your orgasm as long as he could, slowing his fingers but still thrusting them hard inside you. Dragging it out.

You shook from the aftershocks each time his fingers shoved up against your cervix, whimpering as your breathing struggled to return to normal and body tried to unwind. 

He pulled his fingers free from you, loving how your pussy tried to suck them back inside. You mewled at the loss despite how oversensitive you were. 

He held up his hand to inspect it, proudly displaying how drenched it was in your cum. 

“Look at that Baby, down past the wrist...You horny little thing,” he rasped, letting you watch as he wrapped his slick coated hand around his neglected cock, pumping it slowly, you could hear the wet pass of his hand with each pump.

“Stand up,” he ordered gently, not helping you as you stood up on shaky legs, struggling to comply as your legs threatened to give out underneath you.  

“Top needs to go too Honey Bee,” he instructed, watching you with predatory eyes as you raised your arms, taking the sexy little Bralette off and discarding it somewhere behind you. 

“Up against the window, arms up.” 

You wobbled over slowly, sighing as your body touched the cool glass. 

You felt so exposed up against the glass, despite the fact there was no one currently walking about outside, and there was no light in the living area now that the TV was off,  the only light source being the lights outside, lighting up the coliseum. 

You could see Jack's reflection in the glass as he came up behind you, stepping out of his sweats. You could hear him still pumping his cock with you slick.

Your back arched as he ran the tip of his cock over your dripping folds, making you gasp and shudder.

“Poor Baby, still so sensitive,” he teased, pushing you against the cold glass with his free hand, making your nipples tighten painfully at the chill. You wriggled slightly as he pushed his hips forward, tip entering your hole. 

“Shhhh Baby, Daddy needs his fair share too, needs to fuck your pussy,” he sighed, your tight wet heat slowly enveloped him as he slowly inched his hips forward. 

“Need to make you cum. One last time.” He emphasized the statement by snapping his hips forwards, filling you up completely as his hips slapped up against your ass. 

He gave your oversensetive body only a moment to adjust to the stretch before wrapping an arm around you and fucking into you hard and fast. His free arm grasped your neck, lightly choking you again as his cock hammered into you.

“Fuck, so wet baby. Your cums soaking me, dripping down Daddys balls,” he rasped into your ear.

Slap.  Slap.  Slap.  Slap.  Slap, filled the room as you were shoved up against the glass with each thrust. 

You cried at the delicious stretch, at how he made your tender, sore hole buzz with pleasure every time he shoved himself inside,  at how your body stung from the cold glass, and at the filth he rambled into your ear. 

“My perfect pussy, Daddy’s pretty little princess. Think about how anyone could walk past. Could see you,” he teased, turning you on more. “Stuffed full of my cock, wouldn’t be hard, this low down, just need to turn their head a lil bit, ‘s all it would take to see you.” 

You moaned at his words, tightening around him. 

“Fuck, squeezing me so tight,” he whispered in awe,thrusting harder into you. 

You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the delirium of being fucked by him, trying hard not to cum around him until he gave you permission. 

He didn’t like it when you came without his permission.

He chuckled darkly into your ear, slowing his thrusts down to teasing rolls of the hips. “There's someone now,” he rasped, watching someone walk by further down the street, you cracked your eyes open and could see just how close they were, close enough that if you called out with the window open, they would hear. 

“I don’t think they’ve spotted us. Let’s see if we can change that shall we?” He suggested with another dark laugh, letting go of your neck to grip your hips with both hands, making it much easier to thrust inside you and leaving nothing to silence your noises as he slammed into you again with the same speed as before. 

You shrieked, watching with wide eyes at the passer by, hoping he did not hear.

It was annoying just how arousing the idea of this stranger catching the two of you was. 

Before you could even stop yourself, you came around Jack’s cock without warning. No build up, no tensing, it hit you so suddenly you couldn’t have stopped yourself if you had tried. 

He growled angrily behind you, pausing his thrusts as you squeezed him hard, as your walls fluttered and tried to milk his cock. 

 There was no way you could hide what you just did, it may have snuck up on you fast but he felt it. Felt you squeeze him and shake in his grasp. 

“Did you just fucking cum Baby?” He snarled. “Without Daddy’s permission?” 

“I’m sorry!” you sobbed. “I didn’t mean to, it happened so fast!” 

“You got off  to the thought of some stranger seeing you, isn’t that right?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered pathetically, not wanting to anger him further by lying to him.

“Such a filthy little slut,” he berated, rocking back into you. “If Daddy didn’t need to cum so bad I'd punish you right now. Throw you over my knee and remind you that Daddy owns your orgasms.” 

“I know Daddy! I’m sorry! So sorry!” 

“I believe you Baby, but that don't change the rules. Doesn’t mean you get away without some sort of punishment.” He licked the shell of your ear, nibbling at you lightly. 

“Tomorrow night, I really will destroy your pussy. I’ll hold you down and fuck you so hard, till you cum so many times you pass out, never letting up until you’re beggin me to. Daddy will choose how many times you cum, when you cum, and how hard you cum, to remind you your pleasure belongs to me.” 

You sniveled, panting as your breath fogged up the glass.

“Y-Yes Daddy,” you agreed. 

“Now stay still, Daddy gonna fill you up, get you nice and creamy.”

His rocks built back up to the harsh thrusts, reserving no gentleness for you as his grip would no doubt leave bruises on your hips the next day. 

He growls, the steady slap of his thrusts, bumping of glass and the blood rushing in your ear was all you could hear. 

And even though you had already cum three times, you could feel a fourth bubbling deep inside, warming you up. 

He pounded you against the glass. 

He cursed as his thrusts became frenzied, violent bucks up against your ass as he chased his release. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, here it comes!” He bellowed, digging his teeth into your shoulder and marking you hard. He groaned against your skin as his hot cum flooded you. You felt it fill you and warm you up, even if he didn’t let you cum again, you adored the sensation of him filling you up each time.

His thrusts slowed as you felt his seed begin to leak out around his length. 

You mewled at the loss of the orgasm you knew he wouldn’t have given you anyway. 

He pulled out slowly, releasing your shoulder and watching as his softening length fell from you. 

Your knees buckled, but Jack was quick to catch you before you fell and scoop you up into his arms. 

“There we go Baby,” he murmured, gently nosing at your temple. “Let's get you sorted.”

As usual Jack’s aftercare consisted of his soft praises as he tended to your physical needs. 

He washed you, tended to your marks, dressed you back into your new pajamas, and tucked you into bed. You drifted in and out of his care, only catching a few words here and there.  

“Good girl”, “Did so well,” and “So proud,” were the familiar praises you heard.

 He joined you under the warm blankets when he decided you had been thoroughly cared for, pulling you close to his chest to snuggle and murmur affections at you. You nuzzled deeper into his warmth, completely boneless and spent, listening to the gentle timbre of his voice as you drifted off. 

That night you dream about old castles and handsome southern princes.

credit to @talesfromtheguild​ for this little bit

“Hmm...” “What are you hmming about over there?” “You’d look good with a little blonde patch.” “Shut up.”

Tag list:

@thats-one-tender-foot​  @luminescentlily​ @nuttybeardetective​ @ishqinbbc​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @calamity-queen​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @talesfromtheguild​ @the-arctic-violet​  @jeeperky​ @mando-amando​

[theunconcernedembalmer]

what’s the issue with elisop? is it just bc you hc aesop as ace? im so concerned by seeing ppl adamantly opposed to mlm/wlw ships but im also genuinely curious about why you dislike it and other lgbt ships so much lol

hmm. that is a strong accusation, n i find it just a bit odd. are you new here? or perhaps you are taking personal offense at my dislike towards a favourite ship of yours and using the lgbt argument as moral high ground?

whatever the case may be, i thank you for asking. if u r truly looking for an answer, its below the cut n it is very very long. mind u these are all my personal opinions n i am in no way policing how others enjoy ships. just in case this wasnt clear; i dont wish to start discourse on this blog, especially since my takes are probably... unpopular.

firstly i would like to address the “disliking lgbt ships” bit, because this has very strong implications in itself. i have nothing against lgbt ships. i enjoy them, even. if the two characters have chemistry between each other, i ship it. however, the moment characterization is broken for the sake of romance, i lose interest. this is generally my stance on ships in general, n this applies for both straight n lgbt ships. 

the ships themselves are fine. however, i do have issues with the ship dynamics, so ill let u in on that.

i want to touch on mlm ships in particular; i believe u are familiar with the top/bottom dynamic that is rampant in these kinds of ships? (i wont deny that this dynamic can be found in other types of ships, but for arguments sake i will be focusing on gay ships because i feel that this occurs more commonly here) its such a popular dynamic that is prone to stripping the personality from one if not both characters, only for them to be reduced to being dominant/submissive. for a character to be pigeonholed into a stereotypical category based on... preferred sexual positions? its just downright insulting, never mind the larger more problematic implications of it. top/bottom is not indicative of someones personality, by the way. flattening multi dimensional characters into these stereotypes is so so so insulting.

unfortunately this is The Most Popular portrayal of just about any gay ship around. ive seen it being used everywhere in so many fandoms n it just about becomes apparent to me that ppl come to stories looking for a Ship. not the stories, nor the characters, just a ship. while id like to say theres nothing wrong with that, keep in mind not everyone is just looking for 2 characters that look pretty next to each other. if i ship something, i see interesting n meaningful interactions between 2 characters, which is so often not the case once u bring in the top/bottom dynamic. why is it so popular? because somehow this is what ppl like from a gay ship n hence it sells. ppl want the drama, characterizations be damned. ppl want to see the big kiss that happens in the end, n maybe the sexy parts that come after. characterizations be damned.

so u can say im a little wary of gay ships when they cross my feed. hell, as a joseph aesop shipper i see this trope everywhere n im pretty disappointed as well. small tangent but i feel like this is the reason why zh0ngli n ch1lde is so popular in g3nshin. i try to see the appeal, i really do, but after a long while of analyzing their respective characters i dont think they have as much chemistry as ppl think they do. dont even get me started on how incredibly ooc they make either of these very interesting n unique characters in ship portrayals. all because of the top/bottom dynamic that ppl want to see. i say this for that particular ship, but this is pretty much the case for a lot of ships out there, n the latter part is painfully true even when the 2 characters do have potential between each other. ill say it again im disgusted by the blatant disrespect to the characterizations if all ppl ever want is 2 pretty puppets to mush lips together. cos thats what theyre essentially reduced to this way.

n its so obvious to see when an artist subscribes to this rhetoric, because u can so clearly see it in the way they draw their characters. the “top” generally has sharper features to go with their “dominating personality”, while the “bottom” has disturbingly softer, feminine, dare i say sometimes child like features “to submit”. n thats where the uwu soft gay trope comes from, i believe. which, in case u still dont know, i hate with a burning passion.

so again for ppl with impaired reading comprehension, im fine with ships, including lgbt ones, but the moment u break characterization for the sake of the ship, im not that okay with it. u want to do it for a short crack comic? fine. but if thats the only way ur portraying the 2 characters then im immediately wary of ur content. ill still look at it cos usually the art is really good, but im very very wary. so im not “adamantly opposed”, just very critical of how the ships are being portrayed. if other ppl want to enjoy their ships like that, sure. just dont expect me to join in on something i dont agree on.

.

now id like to address not shipping “because i hc aesop as ace”. for ppl who are new to the blog (hello there), im an ace in a romantic relationship, so thats definitely not the reason i dont ship elisop. its more of being in a relationship has largely shaped my views towards romance as a whole. even before i met my boyfriend, i hated the romance genre in stories n media. most of it comes off as incredibly forced, especially those love triangles they seem to love putting into teen novels. thats one reason why i stopped reading when i was younger, but i digress.

did i partake in shipping when i was younger? i did. for a gay ship too (if anyone really wants to know, its kurotsukki from haikyuu. at least this was one that i can remember, i was mostly working on my 20 odd ocs for the longest time). i also used to write little short romance ficlets that i never posted anywhere cos i hated (n still do hate) my writing. but writing romance when u dont have experience was really just a way of projecting n probably a way of coping for myself, not that i knew at that time. but after i actually started a relationship with my boyfriend (whom i love n cherish a lot thank u very much), i began to see how much all these have skewed my views towards romance n have actually done some harm to our relationship. the bullshit that the general media feeds u constantly doesnt help in the slightest either.

quick topic shift to elisop in particular (about time, right?). i already stated that i only ship characters if i sense chemistry between the two personalities, n if u have seen the part where i dont ship elisop then u must have seen how agonized i am over not being able to have a concrete personality for eli. that is the main problem i have with elisop: eli does not feel like a solid character to me. n that is a huge problem, because if he doesnt have any defining characteristics besides being mild n nice, then he can be whoever i want him to be. (i have done this in my exorcist comics, i will admit this. n the fact that i can just do that... it really does not sit well with me personally.)

n that is dangerous.

back to young me doing lil ship things. i think its also pretty safe to say when u really do ship 2 characters, chances are u kinda really relate very very hard to at least one of them. that very quickly can turn into projecting, n shipping therefore is not “exploring the relationship between 2 characters” n it becomes “my preferred dating simulator 101″. of course this isnt always the case, but at least it was for me, n subconsciously it might be for lots of ppl too. n since this is ur mental playground, u call the shots, n there is no consequences if u slightly (or even entirely) alter one or both personalities to fit ur desired narrative. n u wouldnt even notice or know, cos ur blind to ur own biasness.

we bring our perceived notions into real life, im sure u know that. so when ur partner does not become that perfect knight in shining armour, or when they get upset at things that u do (which is a very normal thing by the way), n u think (very subconsciously), That isnt what my otp would do, something is wrong here (nothing is wrong, actually its just ur skewed perception of a stable romantic relationship). why wouldnt ur otp do this? because u are both halves of ur otps, there is no hidden secrets between them (apart from the pining part but thats irrelevant), n again they have been altered to fit ur preferred narrative. 

a real relationship requires a lot of communication between parties, because newsflash, liking someone doesnt mean that u have to like every single thing they do, they will make mistakes n it will hurt u, n guess what, the reverse is also true. if u do go with absoutely anything that they would do with 0 objections whatsoever, ur not crushing on someone, ur idolizing them, n that power imbalance is detrimental to a relationship. these things are not obvious to ppl, especially when the whole climate is hell bent on getting into romantic relationships by a certain age or some bullshit. communication is key n is pretty much the only way to solve relationship issues, because the other person has a lot that u r not seeing n vice versa. as similar as 2 ppl can be, i doubt u can have 100% the same thoughts on all things. i dont make the rules.

so in ur mental playground u focus on the fluffy parts, maybe there is communication, but rarely is there any meaningful conflict. thats unrealistic, n if u bring that mindset to an actual relationship, thats not going to end well. i say meaningful conflict, because yes, generally u shouldnt have conflicts with ur significant other. but inevitably when ur with each other for long enough, u will realize that there are habits that u must change in order to be with the other person. habits that are harmful to the other person directly, or harmful habits towards yourself that indirectly harm the other person. these are meaningful in a sense that if left alone, it will manifest into larger problems that will harm u, the other person n the relationship as a whole. its meaningful to the relationship.

all these is made even worse if ur neurodivergent. maladaptive coping practices, self sabotaging behaviours, inherent disabilities. all these must be adjusted n addressed. im so incredibly thankful for my boyfriend for being incredibly patient with me when working all these out, n it has not been easy for me to work on myself n all my problems, n im still not done working on them. this aspect is often not explored in romance in general (or properly), n there is a very good chance i would have still been stuck in the unhealthy mindset of “this isnt like my otp, maybe we’re not meant to be”. because loving someone is a choice. no one is made for each other, it is a conscious choice made between 2 ppl to make things work. this is how arranged marriages work, i am told, n i do see the appeal, not that it actually does appeal to me culturally.

special mention to the kurotsukki ship, cos from there i found a very, very good fic that explored their relationship before n after getting together, n it actually showed aspects of this problem in the incredibly slow burn of (at that time) 20+ chapters. it was just one fic (n a very good one at that, i believe it was called Leviticus), but it had a lesson i never thought i needed to learn, n learn it i did, with a lot of help from my dear. 

this is also probably the reason why i dont really want to delve too much into romance now. i know its a lot of work, n everything (mostly) that the media feeds u is really false advertising, but ppl eat that shit up n so it remains one of the most popular genres to date. im just very wary that if i do start on a romantic story, i want to be able to show it in a way like that fic did, the truths of relationships, because i dont want to make something that sells, i want to make something that meaningful to me, if a little indulgent. n that also includes being very careful in how the respective characterizations will change in a relationship. almost too careful now that i think about it, but its not something that i mind. i was never one for romance from the start, n now im very careful about shipping because of what happened to me persoanlly.

okay enough about me, lets talk about aesop. in any au u put the character in, the essence of the character must remain despite the change in environment. so lets say we have ur typical modern au. dead mom, check. shitty mentor doing illegal stuff? also check. autistic boy with social anxiety? we’re good to go. all these have implications on aesop as a character, n while ppl are aware of this, again the way they go about portraying it can go, in my personal opinion, very wrong. ppl who immediately woobify aesop completely because he has autism annoy me. ppl who reduce him to uwu soft boi cos he has social anxiety do not know how the disorder really works n as someone who has that i hate it to the core. ppl who do all these for the sake of ship have lost my respect. its insulting.

remember the top/bottom dynamic? not that elisop is completely free from that (even if i dont know much about eli, to put him in either one of those stereotypes feels very insulting to his character. i wont even say anything about doing it to aesop its so upsetting), but its not entirely made up of either. but now i want to introduce another trope i am very wary of, which is “i can fix him”. im sure u guys have seen the meme going around poking fun at this trope (for those who havent, its along the lines of “u can fix him? well i can be his worst nightmare”) n no doubt yall would have seen it n gotten sick of it in some forced hetero romantic bullshit. we have one damsel in distress with a saviour that solves all their problems just by existing n being romo with each other.

remember “my preferred dating simulator 101″? this is not mutually exclusive n from my point of view this is dangerously close to this trope. lets be real, if it was actually a thing that all ur deep rooted trauma magically disappears if someone were to waltz into ur life, we would want it. definitely. no painfully dissecting ur own problems n constantly facing them head on. real life states that this is not the case, but it will not stop us from dreaming. n so this trope is born n lives n will go on.

(finally) pulling aesop n eli into this, at least in my mind, u have one severely traumatized boy with lots of issues n u have this. nice mild guy who can be anything u want him to be. i hope u can see where im going with this, n thats the direction i see some elisop heading towards (i dont read a lot of elisop to be fair). if u came from my eli character talk, i mentioned that it is incredibly one sided. this is exactly what im talking about.

putting it all together in case u havent already, aesop is the damsel in distress, whose problems magically disappear because of elis godly kindness n little to no work on improving himself, n they lived happily n gayly ever after.

can u tell how much that does not appeal to me. 

never mind the butchering of character that inevitably happens somewhere somehow, the unrealistically perfect themes n implications of this trope makes me so viscerally uncomfortable. this is, of course, due to personal reasons, n i definitely see the appeal of this dynamic because i would probably have been interested in this once upon a time as well. but as i am now, with everything i have explained up there n everything i have been through, i would politely rather not.

n its difficult to think of another dynamic, because of how little i know about eli apart from him being this saint, which easily makes him a candidate for being aesops trauma panacea. never mind aesop rarely, if ever, does anything for eli as a character in return, n its so damaging to buy into this rhetoric, where a person like this who would solve all ur issues no strings attached exists somewhere in the world. they really dont. a relationship has to be mutually benefitting, or it will be draining n disastrous. maybe u say, Oh its nice to imagine it once in a while. n yeah, i agree, except once in a while is a little difficult to keep track of n that is sort of what happened to me. id rather stay as far away as possible from this kind of unrealistic fantasy, i just got this shit sorted out with myself n my boyfriend.

i have some other reasons, but theyre more personally problematic, so i wont go into them here. but this is mostly n generally why i do not ship elisop romantically. if u do, u do u, and have fun, but again dont expect me to join u. thank u for coming to my ted talk, this took a lot longer than expected.

[starbuck]

All of Armitage’s Looks: Rated

Well, this was inevitable, wasn’t it? Being someone who very readily admits to having Armitage’s entire wardrobe memorized (and who will not apologize for how weird that is), I feel that I’m the perfect person to make this post, although perhaps not the most objective...

So, without further ado, allow me to present to you: every single one of Armitage’s Looks in chronological order: Rated.

#1 - Enjoying The Birthday -- 11/10

Unlike most named characters, Armitage does not appear until episode 4 but oh what an entrance it is... Look at that smile!!!! Actually, take an extra good look because you’ll never see it again. 

Outfit-wise, this is just his normal steward uniform but I like those boots. Probably not unique to him but they’re very nice and remind me of a pair I own. 

Bonus points for being the second person on the tackle-pile, following Tozer. 

(You could accuse me of rating too high right off the bat, but look at his smiling face again and tell me I’m wrong.)

#2 - “Mr. Armitage, what do you report?” -- 8/10

And thus we are introduced to Armitage by name. Appropriately, he is partaking in his most consistent character-defining activity: protecting Tozer from harm (which, in this case, is the Not-Bear which has just come out of nowhere and ripped part of Heather’s skull off).

I’m gonna be honest: I don’t like how this style of coat looks when it’s fully buttoned-up. I think it’s awkward and boxy (see Gibson’s coat in the mutiny-planning scene at the beginning of ep 7 for a better idea of what I mean) and this is before Armitage figured out the belt trick that corrects the problem so I’m deducting points for the coat.

Luckily for him though, his hat is of my favorite variety in the show so I’m delighted to see it despite it just being his uniform. Also loving our first look at his blue sweater (peeking out beyond his coat-sleeves) and his gray gloves.

Further points added for this being the first of many scenes where he carries a gun, endlessly confusing the fandom at large about what the hell his job is. 

#3 - tfw You’re Responsible For This -- 5/10

So I’m just gonna come right out and say that this is one of my favorite images of him in the entire show but, just as Look #1 was rated higher due to the context of the scene despite the outfit itself being average, this one’s rating, in turn, must suffer. 

Things I love about this: the hat (obviously), the fact that the coat looks worlds better just because it’s slightly unbuttoned, the delicate dusting of snow, the way his face looks at this angle.

Things I don’t love about this: literally Everything Else.

Aiding in the racist kidnapping of an innocent woman and then not owning up to it twenty minutes after your introduction is not a good look, no matter how emotionally conflicted about it you are.

#4 - Who the Fuck is This Guy? -- 6/10

October 20th, 2019 was not the day that my obsession with Armitage began, but it was the day that I took a screenshot of this exact moment because I had no idea who this man was or why we were getting a close-up of him. It would take me two more months to figure his identity out.

But, to the point, not much to say here since it’s just his normal uniform again except that this is our first proper look at his hair which I absolutely adore. Also loving the little anchor buttons on his jacket - very cute!

Once again, points deducted for the unfortunate context.

#5 - Slops! -- 7/10

This look is noteworthy for a few reasons. First of all, we see his tan slops for the first time! Slops just sort of look horrible by default unfortunately but I’m enjoying the hat + slops combo here... it works for him. Secondly, Armitage disappears for the entirety of episode 5 so this is the first time we’ve seen the man since the lashing scene. I guess it was so traumatic to witness that he had to take a break. 

He has a gun again though, so things can’t be all bad.

#6 - Big Carnivale Hours -- 8/10

I have given up on trying to figure out what the hell is going on with the marines and their costume theme. Are they knights.... with crowns? That’s all I’ve been able to figure. Who’s idea was this? (Despite having no evidence, I blame Pilkington.) So what does that make Armitage? Is he a squire? Or a knight that just doesn’t have a crown like the others because they ran out of them? Whatever the case, he’s clearly a part of their theme despite not being a marine himself which I think is adorable regardless.

Speaking of adorable, let’s just forget everything that happens for the rest of this episode and appreciate how he’s hanging out with Tozer and Heather. Isn’t that nice? God I’m distressed.

Taking a look at the costume itself, you’ll see that it’s essentially a cut-up burlap sack and a sheet over his regular uniform but realism is not the goal here and the DIY vibe is actually quite nice imo.

#7 - Enter: The Belt -- 10/10

The belt has arrived on the scene! Note its success in not only making the coat itself more appealing but making the coat + slops combo work against all odds.

We really get it all here: belt, (unbuttoned) coat, hat, welsh wig, gloves, and slops! What more could I possibly ask for in an outfit? It’s both stylish and practical.

And plus, I like his attitude in this scene - optimistic-leaning realism about the dangers ahead. I can get behind that.

Overall, no complaints from me - this is a perfect look.

#8 - tfw You Allowed This -- 7/10

This is a Significant Look mostly because we see his hair again, for the first time since episode 4! It’s a bit longer and more unkempt but still maintains a pleasing shape overall. Honestly, I think it looks good this way and its a pity we didn’t get to see it more in the transition stages (assuming it was steadily growing out since ep 4 like most people’s). Additionally, there’s a bit of stubble going on here which I respect.

Rated lower than it might be simply because, as has been established, slops on their own are just kinda ugly. I don’t have a lot to work with here outfit-wise. His face is lovely but this screenshot is a sepia-toned nightmare.

A bonus point for his desperate “please explain this clearly illegal thing we’re doing in a way that makes sense to Little” glance at Tozer, who is already on it.

#9 - Agony -- 8/10

It took me awhile, even after becoming aware of who Armitage was, to appreciate how truly miserable he looks in this scene. And I mean, why wouldn’t he be miserable? Tozer, a man who Armitage risked his own life to drag to safety at Carnivale, is about to be executed for something that’s arguably just as much Armitage’s fault and there’s not a thing he can do about it.

So... that’s depressing.

But, looking at the outfit itself, we see that it’s pretty similar to some past Looks. In fact, it’s identical to what he was wearing when the Tuunbaq attacked Heather with the exception of the belt which is, of course, a new addition since then! And look at the difference a belt can make... You almost don’t notice that the coat is buttoned up all the way.

#10 - The Same Outfit But Now He’s Saving Tozer So Its Cooler -- 9/10

Y’all ever think about the fact that, when things went to shit, Armitage’s first instinct was to grab a gun, find Tozer, and rescue him? I mean you probably don’t but I do. Constantly. 

Obviously I love this part and the outfit is still solid (note how well the belt shows off his figure!) but it loses out on being a perfect 10/10 because he must have dropped his hat while picking up the gun so we never see it again. A necessary sacrifice but one that I mourn nonetheless. 

RIP Armitage’s cool hat, ??-1848.

#11 - The Blue Sweater -- 8/10

It’s warming up so that means we finally get a look at the lovely layers that have been hiding under Armitage’s coat. It’s important to me to bring special attention to the sweater because, although (as I’ve mentioned) he has it on all the way back in ep 4, this is one of only two scenes in the entire show where we get a proper look at it. 

Further, not only is he wearing the blue sweater, but he also has a blue vest on over it! Now, I’ll admit, these aren’t exactly complimentary shades of blue but it still works for me. 

Note also that the belt he had around his coat has been repurposed to aid in holding up his slops-pants over his normal pants (which are held up by the suspenders). Does this man’s resourcefulness ever cease?

As much as I’d love to give a higher rating for the blue sweater, I can’t ignore the new beard which is... it isn’t... it’s Not Great. I don’t have as much animosity towards it as I used to but I can’t pretend that I love it.

#12 - Let Us Fly These Deadly Waters! -- 9/10

I’m not sure why but I’ve always found this outfit very appealing. The tan slops-pants go nicely with the white shirt and blue vest. It’s a solid look - I’d wear this irl honestly. 

And bonus points for his trying to convince Tozer to leave Hickey, even though he was ultimately unsuccessful. 

(P.S. - yes, the title for this one is a Moby-Dick reference... Did you really think I would make it through this entire post without one?) 

...and now, last but not least, I present to you my absolute favorite Armitage Look™... all the other times I said some other outfit was my favorite, I was lying because what I am about to show you is truly the cream of the crop. Without further ado:

#13 - Kidnapping is Bad So At Least Look Good Doing It -- 12/10

Are y’all seeing this? Are you SEEING this????? It is episode fucking 10!! Everyone is dying!!! And yet here’s Armitage waltzing up in his best outfit of the entire show. What the fuck!!!!!!! 

Do I even need to explain why this is exceptional? Just look at it! Look at how the vest is buttoned up and tucked into his slops-pants! Look at the suspenders over top which match the slops-pants in color! Look at the gun and keyring that look like they were made to accessorize this outfit specifically! Heck, even his hair and beard look much better from this angle.

Now, I’m not trying to discount the fact that Armitage was absolutely miserable throughout this entire episode, and understandably so, but, even with that in mind, I can’t bring myself to rate this look any lower. It’s just That Perfect.

If one must inevitably die horribly in the arctic, this is an excellent outfit to die in.

__ 

Well, that’s that! Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this! I’m glad that my ridiculous opinions about Armitage’s wardrobe finally came in handy for something other than my own amusement. 

[kuvvydraws]

I'm not sure if you've answered this question already, but I'm honestly very curious- why do you write fanfiction? I certainly enjoy it as much as you and have written a few things of my own, but I know it can be quite a personal topic for many writers. If it's too personal for you, don't feel any pressure to answer, but it's always interesting to see the writer's perspective outside of the story they've written :). I hope you understand what I'm trying to say-

Hey!

I actually enjoy the words and the rush your brain gets when they join without effort to create a reality.

Now, let me break that down XD

I've always had a book in my hands as far as my memory goes. My dad used to read to me when I was very little and from the second I could do it on my own, that was the best thing ever (yes, that means when I was punished for doing some shit, my books were taken away and I had to sneak them into my schoolbag and read in class like a heathen).

Not only I enjoyed books but I always found myself wanting to partake in the stories, and my brain was always running with the words and the scenes. (I discovered during my teenage years that brains have different ways to process thoughts and mine did it in words, so writing just sort of came naturally to me at that point in my life).

I discovered ffnet when I was 12, I think, but I had tried my hand at original works (that is, about five or six starts of different novels that never saw the light) and some "fanfiction" (about Nightmare Before Christmas because I had a big ass crush on Jack and I unassumingly created my first xReader ever) without knowing what the hell I was doing.

I just knew I wanted to write stuff and I did as much.

The thing is, I introduced one of my friends, who also loved to read and write, to ffnet, and we started writing together. The first thing we wrote was a Sesshomaru x OC fic, the second one was a Sasori x OC fic, and we dipped out toes into some Kuroshitsuji x OC...... all of them handwritten stories we promised we would type in a computer eventually (we didn't, they were horrible [I still have the notebooks we used for each of them and they are cringey as fuck]).

But we wrote for ourselves and we were happy like that.

So we were rampant and wild and having the best time. Back then I still wrote in Spanish (because I hardly knew any English and I didn't care for it), and I remember mixing Spain's Spanish with the ones from South America because obviously the percentage of writers in ffnet who used a different "dialect" Spanish was huge if you compare a single, tiny country with a whole continent.

At the same time I wrote with my friend, I wrote for myself. Naruto, Kuroshitsuji, Bleach, Hetalia.... And I met so many people, nice people, who loved my works (they were random fics, all of them x OC because I didn't know x Reader ones were a thing -they weren't at that time, and x Reader are harder to write in Spanish because all the words and pronouns are gendered one way or another-) and I got so much enjoyment from sharing them.

The thing about books I love the most is the fact that you can convey so many emotions with a few symbols, and you can create worlds out of ink and you can change views and inspire others. So, if none of my dumbass teenage novels were to roam the word, I still could share, in a free, open and fast way, my words with others.

Again, I was going to write them with or without posting them because I found -and still find- great pleasure when a scene creates itself in your brain and all you have to do to make it real is to write it down. (Sometimes my brain still does this and even when I'm daydreaming, my imagination is "written, described and dialogued" as if someone was reading a novel out loud. It makes writing so much easier).

And then I got hate.

I somehow had managed to miss all of the fandom drama that's so toxic in the internet because I didn't bother to interact with anyone in the fandoms beyond the reviews they left in my fics, and ffnet has a -sort of- specific search engine to help you find whatever you want, so I could never willingly find the "problematic stuff" because I was literally not trying to find it.

The hate comment I got was anonymous and very specific about everything that was wrong in a particular fic I had just updated -from plot and characterization to grammar and continuity-, and later on I discovered it came from a couple of authors who shared an account and who I admired greatly for their works. Turns out they were out for blood and hating on every fic that had updated that week and that had any members of their OTP shipped with some other character. (It was a Hetalia fanfic, I was writing SpUK and they were pro FrUk, if anyone is interested).

I was contacted by some other authors asking about this because they had gone through the very same thing -same specific hate, same hate comment- and I remember not giving a fuck.

I was 16 when I got the hate, writing for fun and trying to find a way to go through my shitty highschool days without falling into the black out of depression that haunted me. I remember not wanting to write anything anymore, leaving a fic I was very invested in writing to gather dust and rot in the forgotten folders of my computer because every time I tried to get on with it and progress, it felt wrong.

That thing I said about words just happening? It stopped. My brain was silent as a grave and trying to get my words out became painful. I remember struggling to even write regular project for my school.

I kept reading, of course -it was my only comfort and I really, really didn't want to give up on it-, but I abandoned the fandoms I enjoyed so much before. My new focus became the sci-fi, and I remember being hooked on Predator. Imagine my joy when I discovered there were thousands of works from that fandom! I was extasic.

Problem? They were written in English.

I didn't know shit about English besides being a language I was supposed to handle in school, memorize the unreasonably spelt words that were pronounced illogically regarding the fucking spelling and the stupid ass irregular verbs.

But I learnt English because I wanted a hot piece of alien ass XD

Back to the topic of fanfics, I still roamed ffnet, keeping 15 tabs open and reading until 5 am... But now there was a world of possiblities in front of me because of course everyone on this goddamn Earth writes in English.

So, for the next years I did that, and my words didn't come. It was fine, tho, because I had so many new things to read.

It wasn't until fall of 2018 that I dabbed into the idea of maybe considering to perhaps give writing a try again????? I was neck deep into Undertale -still am, I'm a shameless skeleton fucker and there's no cure for that shit- and its many AU's and somehow I had managed to avoid fandom wars again, so my brain started toying with words... The same way it worked with novels: I got myself into the fics other people wrote (this is so much easier to do with x Reader fics, and I'm so happy about that and the massive boom they had just when Undertale came out, you can't even understand it).

So I kept doing my shit and daydreaming about skeletons and ribs and ecto-stuff for a very long time. It was kinda reassuring and nice to see other writers projecting on their x Readers so much because that's what I had done before.

And then Good Omens happened.

As I've said before, I actually discovered Gomens back in 2012 and it is, to the date, the worst translation to Spanish I've seen in my entire life to this date. And, despite it, I fell in love with it.

Now, barely in 2019, my dad gets Amazon Prime and the first thing he fucking sees is the font of Gomens on the screen. I had fangirled hard about Gomens in book version, so much and so annoyingly that I wouldn't leave my dad alone until he gave it a chance. It's the only book my father hasn't finished because the translation is that bad. He hates it.

Yet.

The particular font they use for the show is the same from the book's title. My dad of course recognized it immediately and knew I would want in on the news.

I confess I watched Gomens the show at least seven times before giving it a break because I liked it so much and the novel was so fucking good and it's honest to God the best adaptation I've ever seen to the screen. It's so good I'm fucking sure I was crying actual tears after watching it for the first time because my dreams and all the feelings that book had given me over the years and the many re-reads were "true" and so well done and it reached deep into my heart.

And then, for the first time in six years, my words came back.

Another thing Good Omens has given me, I have to say.

I don't know if I can stress this enough, but just imagine spending six years of radio silence, sending longing stares to the void and hoping to see something yours returning back, something you've lost and you're not sure you're getting back, something you think you don't need or want but that would be nice to have again. If only. You can live without that something, and no one but you cares about it, and it's not that big of a deal and-

Then you see a spark in the dark.

My words came back.

They weren't in Spanish, and it was hard to manage them at first, only being able to listen to them in short bursts over long periods of time.

But they were my words and they were back.

Writing is still hard, and I have a lot of work to do to improve my skills, to get them not only back but to refine them because I'm not writing in my native language and all I know is what I've learnt from other authors and their knowledge. I project a lot on my projects -I don't intend to stop because it's such a relief, the biggest scape from reality I get by doing so; it helps me deal with my problems, it gives me a break and a way to take a breath when I can't keep going...

Fanfics are where I can say what I want to say to the world in the most honest way, and that allows me to be me, and to express myself and indulge in the fantasies I dream about without having to force myself to think of them over and over and over. I can just sit back and enjoy content I know I like without being judged for it.

I can fucking make that content, too.

Writing feels like home, even if sometimes I still struggle, if I can't find my words or the expression is not quite like that in English, or if I can't find the words or if I'm suffering a block... because there's nothing scarier and more free than a blank page ready to be written.

[rwby-redux]

Deconstruction

Worldbuilding: Dust II

If Part 1 was the nuclear response, then Part 2 is death by a thousand paper cuts. Rather than focusing on just one massive problem with Dust, this time we’ll be discussing the smaller, albeit more numerous problems. Tempting as it is to keep our crosshairs on the obvious target, it’s important to remember that all of the subtle discrepancies—a throwaway line here, a contradiction there—eventually add up.

Today is all about what happens when those small problems get out of control.

Second verse, same as the first. Before we get started, I want to briefly revisit that list of traits so we’re all on the same page.

There are four basic types of Dust. They can be combined either naturally or artificially to produce new types that have their own specific characteristics.

Dust can be triggered by the Aura of humans and Faunus.

The default state of Dust is crystalline. The powdered form sold in shops is the result of processing and refinement.

The color of the Dust denotes what type it is.

Dust becomes functionally inert outside of Remnant’s atmosphere and no longer exhibits its inherent elemental properties.

Dust can be injected into the body in order for the wielder to use its effects more directly. Doing so requires a certain amount of discipline, and can be extremely painful without taking the necessary precautions.

Dust can be imbued into weapons like swords, or woven into clothes.

Dust can be used as a fuel source, to the end that Remnant’s technology is almost exclusively powered by it.

Semblances can interact with Dust in such a way that their skills are augmented, resulting in the temporary acquisition of new subskills or secondary characteristics.

Dust is volatile and prone to explode when subjected to certain stimuli.

Seeing as we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, I’m gonna keep my main talking points under neat little headings, so everything stays nice and organized.

Treating Dust as a Fossil Fuel Analog, and How It Relates to Technology

To say that Dust is a parallel for coal, natural gas, or petroleum is to miss the point entirely. Dust isn’t like these things—Dust is these things. For everyone who’s been watching the show since it first aired, this isn’t anything new. RWBY hasn’t exactly been subtle about establishing those comparisons. Dust is a natural resource that’s scarce, finite in quantity, found in underground deposits, reliant on minority labor in order to be mined, monopolized by a single supplier, and environmentally hazardous due to the extraction process.

A Dust drilling rig and refinement factory owned by the SDC. Excavating Dust resulted in anthropogenic pollution that destroyed Vacuo’s ecosystems, and depleted its natural resources. | Source: World of Remnant, Volume 4, Episode 4: “Vacuo.”

Like I said, it’s not exactly subtle.

The reason why I bring this up is because, to the best of my knowledge, the show has never concisely explained how Dust works as a fuel. When coal is burned, for example, it produces heat, and releases nitrogen oxide and sulfur dioxide into the air. Like, the coal doesn’t just stay coal when it’s being used up—as it’s being burned the coal is physically being reduced into the form of byproducts, like fly ash and slag. Similarly, when you operate a vehicle with gasoline, the fuel gets converted into exhaust gas by the 4-stroke engine. The compressed air-and-fuel mixture partakes in a combustion reaction when the spark plug ignites it. The byproducts of this process are carbon dioxide, nitrogen, and water.

See where I’m going with this?

If Dust is a fuel source, then we need to understand what physical changes are taking place when it’s reacting/being consumed by various technology.

And the series…really, really doesn’t show us that.

Does the Dust get broken down when used? Is the elemental energy inside only released when the Dust is subjected to mechanical stress? Is that why Dust is sensitive to small amounts of energy and explodes when someone so much as sneezes at it? [1] Are all Dust types equally as volatile? Is there a threshold for the amount of energy Dust can be exposed to before it explodes?

Let’s assume, for the moment, that all of the aforementioned are true. Physically breaking a Dust crystal is analogous to burning a chunk of coal, in that mechanical stress is the catalyst for releasing its elemental energy. If we follow that thread of logic, then it means that Dust powder is the result of breaking down Dust crystals into finer particulate matter.

Keeping the analogy in mind, this means that Dust crystals are to coal what Dust powder is to fly ash. A byproduct. Leftovers from the initial fuel consumption process.

So why is powder Dust considered a “refined” form of fuel? How is a byproduct energetically more efficient than the initial source that it’s derived from?

If I had to hazard a guess, I’d argue that Dust as a fuel source is more like a combination between burning coal and splitting an atom. Maybe when Dust companies “refine” Dust, what they’re doing is preemptively grinding the Dust down into a powder, and then—what, flash-freezing it somehow in the middle of it releasing its energy during the breakdown process? And then the flash-frozen powder Dust is stored in some sort of canister, or cartridge, or battery that can indefinitely suspend Dust in its energy-release state until it’s ready to be used? That way the refined version (the powder) cuts out the step that requires a person to physically destroy the crystal in order to release its energy.

It’s not an unsound proposition, and with enough well-presented pseudoscience, I’m sure viewers would be willing to give it a pass. The problem is that the canon ostensibly refuses to tell us any of this. Having your fandom do your homework for you so you don’t have to explain your magical fuel isn’t good storytelling. And the more RWBY continues to withhold its lore—or worse, refuse to develop it entirely—the less credible the setting feels. There’s only so much an audience is willing to suspend its disbelief before pedants like me come along and start poking holes in it.

While we’re still on the topic, I want to quickly touch upon the second issue I have with Dust being Remnant’s de facto fuel source.

Although the show did its best to visually emphasize Remnant’s reliance on Dust, it wasn’t until World of Remnant, Volume 2, Episode 1: “Dust” that we got our first concrete evidence of just how extensively it was integrated into everyday life:

“Since its discovery, man has concocted a multitude of ways in which to harness these mysterious crystals. From airships to androids, Dust has made its way into practically every facet of technology. […] Dust ammunition serves as a more practical application in today's modern society. With the technological advancements in weapon design, warriors need merely choose the right cartridge for the job and pull the trigger.”

We don’t have to question the validity of this under the assumption that Salem is an unreliable narrator, because Qrow says more or less the same thing in later episodes.

“The cold climate of Solitas forced its settlers to adapt. It developed a more advanced technology—and they did it faster than the rest of the world—because they had to, to survive. But it was the Great War that really kicked things off. New forms of Dust application and weaponry allowed Mantle to expand. More and more territory was set aside for Dust mining and research. The territory beside the Kingdom's combat school, Alsius, was the most opportune area to construct a new R&D facility.” | Source: World of Remnant, Volume 4, Episode 3: “Atlas.”

While this conclusively established Dust as the predominant fuel source, there was still some lingering ambiguity of whether or not other sources of energy—petroleum, natural gas, coal, solar, wind, geothermal, hydro—were as developed, or whether they existed at all.

Our first tentative answer to this question came up during Rooster Teeth’s 2015 Extra Life livestream: [2]

Gray Haddock: Is all technology, including scrolls, everything in the world of Remnant powered by Dust? Is all technology Dust-based?

Kerry Shawcross: You’re making me commit to this right now?

Gray Haddock: No, no, no.

Kerry Shawcross: Okay.

Gray Haddock: Most? Some? A lot?

Kerry Shawcross: I would say that a lot is.

Gray Haddock: But there might be some alternate stuff out there. Maybe. Ish.

Kerry Shawcross: Yes. Unless I change my mind later.

Take a moment to let that sink in. At the time this aired, Volume 3 had already been written and animated, and the third episode had just been released on the website. This is one of RWBY’s lead writers admitting that they didn’t have a definitive answer, and the answer that he gave could be subjected to change later down the road. 

Words cannot begin to describe how insane that sounds. That’s like J. K. Rowling deciding after Prisoner of Azkaban, you know what, I’m tired of wizards using wands to cast spells. From now on, everyone’s going to use human femurs!

You can’t just change the show’s rules on a whim. A lack of consistency and adherence to worldbuilding kills any believability your story might’ve had. And more importantly, why didn’t you figure this shit out before the series first began?

Sorry. I’m getting sidetracked.

Instead, let’s look at how well the answer he gave held up. Did RWBY give us any evidence of other fuel sources existing apart from Dust?

Short answer: No.

Long answer: Yes, but I have to qualify that statement, so bear with me for a moment.

The next time we’re given another direct answer, it comes to us from The World of RWBY: The Official Companion.

From Part 1: Origins of Remnant - Types of Dust:

“This technology doesn’t use our fuel,” explains Patrick Rodriguez. “Dust makes everything work. We take tech, put Dust into it, and go with that aesthetic. When I was creating cars for Volume 1, Monty told me to design the motor for how they’d work. I diagrammed a whole engine that ran on Dust, and we never even showed it!” [3]

And then again in Part 2: The Characters - Yang Xiao Long:

“There’s no gas [in Remnant], just Dust,” says art director Patrick Rodriguez, “and Yang’s motorcycle works using combustion Dust.” [4]

It looks like we have our answer at last. An answer that’s infuriating and rife with contradiction, but there it is, plain as day: not only is Dust Remnant’s sole fuel, but alternatives don’t exist. Period.

If that’s the case, then why did I say earlier that they did?

Because throughout the entire course of the series, from Volume 1 onward, the artists have included one very important thing: Plastic. Polyamides used in toothbrushes, polycarbonates used in eyeglasses, polystyrenes used in plastic cups—every one of these things exists in the show. And do you know what plastic is made from?

NATURAL GAS AND FUCKING CRUDE OIL.

So unless RWBY wants to introduce yet another fictional substance to the show, then it needs to reconcile with the fact that yes, oil and petroleum exist, and yes, they’re potential alternatives to Dust.

Look, if the show insists on having plastic products, but not have oil or gas be fuel sources, then there’s a very easy way to get around that. The show has already gone to lengths to establish the SDC as Remnant’s version of BP, right down to both companies using acronyms instead of their full names. Just like real-life oil tycoons, you could have the SDC use resources like lobbyists, lien, and government influence to stymie the alternative fuel industry. Like any morally-bankrupt monopoly, the SDC would be threatened by competitors in the energy sector, especially if those competitors were developing technology based on renewable resources, like solar or wind. In a world where a limited resource like Dust has a stranglehold on the kingdoms, Jacques Schnee would do his damndest to ensure those alternatives never saw the light of day.

See? Problem solved.

Treating Dust as a Gemstone Analog (and Some Other Minor Nitpicks)

Okay, this complaint isn’t as important in the grand scheme of things, but I have to ask: why are Dust crystals treated like gemstones? No, seriously. Look at how the gems on display in this shop

A display case full of various crystal Dust types in From Dust Till Dawn. | Source: Volume 1, Episode 1: “Ruby Rose.”

differ from the ones seen in unharvested deposits.

Large, jagged deposits of unmined Fire Dust embedded in the ceiling of a cave. | Source: Volume 7, Episode 3: “Ace Operatives.”

The Dust for sale was likely cut, as evidenced by the additional facets not present on the unmined deposits. Then again, if you look at the Gravity Dust found at Lake Matsu, Dust might actually belong to the hexagonal crystal system (with and without pyramidal terminations), so a few of those facets could be natural. Regardless, the implication seems to be that on some level, the Dust was treated post-production.

An unmined Gravity Dust deposit found on one of Lake Matsu’s floating islands. | Source: Volume 5, Episode 2: “Dread in the Air.”

Why I bring this up at all is because if Dust crystals are only going to get broken down while being used as a consumable fuel source, then why waste time cutting and polishing them? It doesn’t really make any sense.

While we’re on that subject, how the hell does a person cut a Dust crystal without blowing their fingers off? Seriously. This shit’s like azidoazide azide. You could fart at it from halfway across a room and it would still somehow find a way to explode.

Which also begs the question of how Hazel isn’t dead from repeatedly jabbing what is basically a stick of dynamite into his arms every time he goes berserk. At the very least, shouldn’t he be suffering from severe health complications? His Semblance nullifies pain, but there’s no way it can skirt around the ramifications of what would basically be acute chronic Dust poisoning.

Dust, and How It Relates to Aura

Like any hardcore fantasy enthusiast, I’m a sucker for floating islands. I don’t care if they’re overused and cliché. That is peak aesthetic, and nothing you say will ever convince me otherwise.

That being said…

Remember how the show repeatedly tells us that Dust can only be triggered by humans and Faunus? Meaning that its effects can only be activated in the presence of Aura?

If that’s the case, then how are any of Matsu’s islands floating? If Aura (or mechanical stress, I suppose) is a prerequisite for activating the elemental properties of Dust, then shouldn’t the islands all have fallen into the lake? It’s not like there are people hanging around out there to keep them passively airborne.

I have a sneaking suspicion that Remnant is some sort of genius loci à la Gaia hypothesis, and the planet generates its own Aura (which would explain why Dust becomes inert when leaving the atmosphere—it’s no longer within range of an Aura). But without more information to go on, we’re left scratching our heads at how this contradiction of nature can exist.

At the very least, consider this: If this ambiguity managed to generate a discussion in the fandom on what the hell is up with Lake Matsu, then shouldn’t that have also generated an in-world discussion between the characters? Fantasy setting or not, people are people, and we are an inherently curious bunch that love to ask questions about the unknown. Given that we had three volumes dedicated to the cast going to school, it always struck me as a weirdly wasted opportunity. An academic setting is the perfect place to script conversations like that, simply because it organically allows the story to teach the audience alongside its characters without everything feeling contrived.

But I digress. At the end of the day, this is far from my biggest grievance with Dust, but I felt it was still important enough to warrant being mentioned.

Cultural Aspects of Dust

There were a lot of ideas I wanted to talk about concerning Dust and its impact on culture—like if there was specific terminology for people who worked with Dust (like a Dust-cutter being called a “lapidary,” or “collier” being used as a slur for Faunus). Or if there were Dust-specific idioms or sayings. Or if there were superstitions and folk stories about Dust that still get passed along.

But we’re almost 3,000 words in and I want to try and keep things concise. For now, I’m choosing to focus on just one of those ideas instead, one which has always weirdly fascinated me: weaving Dust into clothing.

Fun fact: Did you know that in the 1700s, people used to wear clothing made with a green pigment that was derived from arsenic? Contact with the skin would give the wearer extreme chemical burns. Similarly, in the 1850s, aniline (a poisonous compound from the indigo plant) was used to create a dye that, when it was absorbed through the skin, would cause skin irritation, nausea, and dizziness. And well before we figured out that asbestos was carcinogenic, fibers made from it were often used for uniforms in professions that dealt with fire. Apparently, it’s really heat-resistant. And let’s not forget lead face paint, the skin-melting makeup that was all the rage in sixteenth-century Europe. [5]

The reason why I bring up all of these comically awful fashion trends is because, to reiterate, Dust is really explosive.

And people on Remnant used to just casually sew it into their clothes. Like, no big deal, I’m just going to wear my jacket with the custom Fire Dust sequins on the lapels and pray to god that no one bumps into me while I’m at the market. Maybe tomorrow night I’ll wear my hat with the Ice Dust embroidery to the banquet. I just hope I can avoid physical contact with another human being so my head doesn’t get encased in a block of ice.

Believe it or not, none of this is meant as a criticism, strictly speaking. On the contrary, I wish the show had taken the time to explore this neat little bit of lore, rather than consign it to a throwaway line. Because I think it would be fucking hilarious if Dust-woven clothing was the equivalent of radioactive and carcinogenic fashion trends. Not only would it enrich the history of Remnant and expand upon its worldbuilding (which it sorely needs), but it would be an organic way to explain to the audience one of the inherent dangers of unmanufactured Dust.

And just like that, we’ve finished covering Dust. Mostly, anyway. I have a few minor gripes, but nothing that can’t wait. Next time we’ll be discussing the topic near and dear to my heart, the thing I’ve been waiting for weeks to talk about: the Grimm.

-

[1] Volume 1, Episode 2: “The Shining Beacon - Part 1.”

[2] “Rooster Teeth's Extra Life Stream 2015 Hour 3-RWBY Crew & Matt/Jeremy Kiss.” YouTube video, uploaded by John Green. November 09, 2015. 51:44 - 52:09. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFCK-OwGoLA&t=51m44s]

[3] Wallace, Daniel. The World of RWBY: The Official Companion. VIZ Media LLC, 2019, page 36.

[4] Wallace, Daniel. The World of RWBY: The Official Companion. VIZ Media LLC, 2019, page 71.

[5] SciShow. “10 Dangerous Fashion Trends.” YouTube video. March 20, 2016. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hhXeUQOuRaw]

[hunterqueen30-blog]

Swan Queen Fanfiction Recommendation List (95 fics)

After becoming obsessed with Swan Queen quite some time ago, I have made my way through god knows how many fanfics.  Ranging from the super short to the epically long, from the hilarious to the heart breaking and from the well written to the how is this author not famous and why aren’t they writers on the show!!!!

After ploughing my way through list upon list on fanfiction.net and archive of our own,  after devouring lists made by other SQ lovers and after I have read everything written by my favourite authors as well as reading all of their favourite stories, I would consider myself something of a SQ fanfic expert.

That being said, considering how much SQ fanfiction is out there I am sure I have only made a medium sized dent in the whole and given all of the talented writers out there I am sure there are still some amazing fics left for me to read (I hope so or what will I do with my life?).

Being a SQ shipper I considerate it my duty to get as many other people as possible on board. I have managed to convert my wife, although all that took was for me to say Regina and Emma and she was in, didn’t need to be any more specific than that, it wasn’t exactly a struggle. The same could not be said of my best friend, who at the time was a huge Hook fan (I can sense the eye rolls but don’t judge her too harshly) I basically made it my mission to talk nonstop about SQ until I had convinced her of its validity or she had changed her mind simply due to SQ osmosis.

Following conversation after conversation involving me painstakingly discussing things like how Regina and Emma can move the moon together and stop curses (Isn’t true love the most powerful magic of all??). How they are always fighting for each other and sacrificing for each other and all of those looks they give each other.  Not to mention the fact that let’s face it if Emma had been a man the saviour and the evil queen would have ended up together, it would have been the perfect fairytale ending. Snow White destroys Regina’s happiness but makes up for it by bringing her, her real true love, doesn’t get any more poetic than that.  After all of that I am extremely happy to say that my friend is now a huge SQ fan.

You’re probably wondering why I’m rambling on about this, but all of the above leads me to the main reason for writing this list.  Which is so my friend can read all of the amazing fanfics that I have and for all the other SQ fans (who like me are looking for another list they can make their way through, which will probably have a lot of the same fics on it as lists they have already read; but maybe there will be a gem in there that they wouldn’t have found otherwise).

I hope anyone reading this list will find it helpful and if you enjoy a fic, please pop over and leave a review for the author. It won’t take long and I am sure it means a lot to them.

To all the authors on this list thank you so much for sharing your work. You are all awesomely talented.

To anyone who is wondering why I am writing this list now, when the show is over and there is no hope for SQ, the answer is simple: once a SQ fan, always a SQ fan. And maybe if all SQ fans keep SQ alive, if the time comes when the show is remade the writers will remember this fandom and even though it will be too late for our Regina and Emma, maybe another Regina and Emma will get the chance that they deserve.

Let’s get started; the fics are ordered by length, with the shortest first, you’ll probably notice that there aren’t many short fics on here, (I like to get invested), apologies if you don’t have the time to read lengthy fics. 

Its In The Genes by hunnyfresh

In which Emma's brother Neal has a massive crush on Regina which spurs Emma into acting on her feelings - Future Fic. Rated T.

He Gets It From you by onepromise

Henry thinks that his moms should kiss so that Emma will get her powers back. The thirteen year old is so convinced that he's right, he procures the magical items necessary from Mr Golds Shop to lock them in a closet until they kiss. Rated T.

Someday When Spring Is Here by coalitiongirl

Her key to the kingdom rejected, Princess Emma offers herself instead to the Evil Queen, and embarks on a journey through the woods with Regina that will redefine everything she's ever believed about herself, her future, and true love. Rated Mature. 

She’s Already Ruined Her Makeup by deceptivelycomplex3925

In which Emma tells Regina how she feels on Regina’s wedding day. Rated Teen and Up. 

Imagine Me And You by bayloriffic

After they return from Neverland, Henry decides to set a parent trap for Emma and Regina. By the time Emma realizes what he’s up to, she’s already half in love with Regina and it’s pretty much too late to do anything about it. Rated Teen and Up.

As Good As A Lie by skyel4

Regina is finally woken from a sleeping curse by true love's kiss. She smiles at Robin and kisses him again, only it wasn't him who woke her. Emma stands by, surprised and confused. When Robin refuses to tell Regina the truth, Emma can't accept being pushed aside so easily. Rated T.

Sharing Souls by hunnyfresh

Emma joins in on Operation Mongoose, determined to help Regina get her happy ending, however neither woman expects to be reliving the other's life through the book, their dreams, and even the briefest of touches. Rated T.

A Fine Line by hunnyfresh

Upon Regina's banishment, the small town of Storybrooke becomes protected once again by an enchantment that prevents anyone from leaving or entering Storybrooke. Emma and Regina find themselves on the edge of the town, wishing for a way to the other side. Rated T.

It’s Not The Fall That Kills You by inkheart9459

Regina thinks she must be exhausted after everything that's happened, the curse breaking, the mob, the wraith. There's no way that Emma Swan is being nice to her without a motive and Emma's sudden illness has nothing to do with Daniel's reappearance. She must be exhausted to think such ridiculous things, or is she? Rated T.

Secret Santa by acheleismyobsession

When they get back from Neverland, (no body swap pan) the Charmings find out that their loft was giving away to the Darlings. Regina invites Emma to stay with her but what happens when the Charmings tag along. At a celebratory dinner, the guest partake in a Secret Santa. Rated T.

Temporary Distractions by amycarey

It's been a month and Regina won't speak to her, until she does and Emma is left pretending to be in a relationship with her so that Regina can get through a dinner invitation with her pride intact. Rated Mature. 

Follow If You Lead by maybeweare

At Midas' ball, the blonde in the red dress catches Regina's eye. And with no way home in sight, Emma decides that it can't hurt to see what the Queen has to offer. Meanwhile, Storybrooke is reeling from Emma's disappearance - especially Regina. Rated M. 

Second Chances by raeinspace

Zelena plans to go back in time, but Regina finds a way to hitch a ride (using blood magic) to go with her and try to stop her. Emma gets caught up in the spell. Regina manages to stop adult Zelena, but when Regina sees Cora sending her sister to Oz, she feels sorry for the baby Zelena. Emma suggests giving Zelena a second chance. Rated M. 

Little Green by RowArk

Emma fears she may have brought someone else back with her from the past: a lost little red-haired girl in dire need of a second chance, who could also prove to be Emma's second chance. And Regina's, if she can find forgiveness in her heart. Rated K+.

The Black Knight by inkheart9459

Regina is fond of her job as a knight and guard of the White palace. That is, until she gets assigned to the royal brat of a princess while she's entertaining insipid suitors. Between the mindless drivel the men are spewing and the Princess running off at every other moment she might just go insane. Rated T. 

The Great Wide Somewhere by amycarey

It has been seven years since Emma rolled into Storybrooke, and she and Regina are finally in a friendship that doesn't teeter on the precipice of hatred. When Regina's pining over Henry, away for the summer at an astronomy programme in Tucson, Emma suggests a road trip to surprise him for his birthday. Rated Mature. 

Right There All The Time by devje

His mothers are obviously in love and totally married in everything but name, so why is Henry the only one in their house who knows this? His moms don't even seem to have noticed that Mom kisses Emma on the cheek every morning when she leaves for work. Rated General.

Let Stars Be My Asterisks by absedarian

After her return from the past Regina refuses to see Emma: she can't bear to see the woman she loves with the pirate but Emma ignores Hook as all she can think about is Regina. Hook thinks he should be the center of Emma's attention and decides to woo her with a letter. He asks Regina for help, which offers her an opportunity she can't ignore. Rated T.

Second Time Around by RowArk

Emma magically reverts herself to a toddler, with her adult memories, but is unable to communicate and no one knows who she is. Regina takes in the lost baby girl and bonds with her, eventually telling her personal things, having no idea she's actually talking to Miss Swan, who is hearing everything, and it changes how she sees Regina (in a good way). Rated T.

We’ll Make Our Home On The Water by bayloriffic

For some reason, Emma thought they’d pass through the portal and end up right at Neverland. Instead, they spend weeks aboard the Jolly Roger, sailing the vast blue-green oceans with no land in sight, the water seeming to stretch on forever all around them. Rated Mature. 

Ever After, Again by hunnyfresh

The Swan-Mills family is an average American family living in Storybrooke, Maine until Regina accidentally casts a spell that sends them all to the Enchanted Forest. There, they are not the happy family they once were, and only Henry remembers their life in Storybrooke. He must figure out a way to get his moms to remember once more and to break the curse. Rated T.

A House Is Not A Home by coalitiongirl

Peter Pan managed to cast his curse on Storybrooke during Going Home. Six months later, the Swan-Mills family breaks the curse and discovers that they'd never been a family at all; that Emma and Regina had never fallen in love; and that they can't quite let go of the lie that had been their happy ending. Rated Mature. 

Exiled by SgtMac

To pay for her crimes, Regina accepts exile from Storybrooke. Five years later, on Henry's 16th birthday, Henry and Emma find her. Rated T.

Heroes And Lovers by trixwitch

When the Author writes everyone into his reversed world of "Heroes and Villains," Emma Swan is the only one to retain her memories. She shows up in the Enchanted Forest with no idea what's happening, and eventually runs into Bandit Regina. The Queen's knights attack at that moment, and Emma is badly wounded. Regina takes her back to her camp to care for her, and when Emma wakes up, things between them start to change. Will Emma respond to Bandit Regina's clear interest in her? Will she find a way to break out of this cursed book? Will they be able to find Henry? Rated Mature.

When I See You Again by MadameMayorRM

Henry and Emma are happy in the new life Regina gave them before destroying Pan's curse, sending all Storybrooke's residents back to the Enchanted Forest. Everything is fine until the night Henry begins dreaming about a brown eyed woman. Who is she? Is she real? Henry intends to find out. Rated T. 

How To Make A Monster by Velace

Regina decides to make amends after upsetting the Savior. What she doesn't realise is that in doing so, she finds the key to Emma's heart – food. Takes place after they return from Neverland. Rated Mature. 

It’s All In The Planning by terribledorkness

Zelena and Henry team up for a little matchmaking after wish-verse Robin leaves with the Evil Queen, and Emma gets engaged to Hook. The results, are of course, wonderfully disastrous. Rated Teen and Up.

The World’s You Never See by writetherest

The lives I'll never lead / Couldn't make me sing / Could they? Could they? Could they? / As soon as she had stepped through the doorway, the door closed tightly. And only then, with Regina inside, did the lines, curves, and swirls shift and move, assembling themselves into words within the heart. 'The Road You Didn't Take'. Rated T.

Storybrooke Singles by coalitiongirl

In which Zelena runs a dating agency and uses Emma Swan as her charity case. Rated Mature.

It Was Always You by trixwitch

Emma dated a woman in New York who reminded her of Regina (although she didn't know it at the time), and when she gets back to Storybrooke, she realizes her feelings were always about Regina. Regina, in the meantime, senses that something has changed between her and Emma, and wants to know what. Rated Teen and Up. 

About Last Night by JuiceCup

Emma and Regina wake up in bed together the morning after their plan to be drinking buddies. Rated Mature. 

The Debt by Scribes And Scrolls

Set just after the curse breaks, Emma hunts down Regina, who is preparing to flee. Sparks will fly. Rated M. 

Curse You And Your Dinner by highheelsandchocolate

Absorbing an evil curse into your bloodstream has a few side effects that no one was expecting, least of all Regina. Rated M. 

We’re Nothing More Than Dust Jackets by coalitiongirl

A queen takes her revenge, a savior is hidden away, and a dark curse is cast. You’ve read this story a dozen times. But this time, Regina Mills wakes up with a book titled Emma, and Emma Swan is found wrapped in a baby blanket with her tiny fingers wrapped around a book titled Regina. As time passes, their counterpart’s story unfolds within the books; and for twenty-eight years, the two follow each other's lives from afar until the day a little boy runs away from home to find his birth mother... Rated Mature. 

Incoming Messages by hunnyfresh

Ruby makes Emma a dating profile. The only catch is that she's listed as a guy. That wouldn't be such a problem if Emma hadn't found Regina's profile and begins communicating with the Mayor. Rated M. 

In The Velvet Darkness by devje

Emma Swan wakes up alone. Completely alone. Rated Explicit. 

Wayward Daughters by RowArk

When a magical mishap turns both Emma and Regina back into teenagers, they stay with the Charmings while the rebel Emma teaches the refined princess Regina how to have fun, and a teenage romance blossoms along the way. Rated T.  

Bring Her Home by SQ_RoundRobin

Cora’s dead. Henry lives with the Charmings. Regina continues spiraling through grief and loss and hatred. Then Emma suddenly falls unconscious and Henry shows up at Regina's door because he needs her help to bring Emma back. Reluctantly, Regina embarks on a wild swan chase through Emma’s mind, a whirlwind of ‘roads‐less‐traveled’ and ‘what‐ifs’ and ‘might‐have‐beens’, in order to bring her home. Rated Teen and Up. 

Forget Me Not by SinkOrFly

Tired of feeling heartbroken after Robin's death, Regina takes a Forgetting Potion to eradicate all memories of her True Love. However, things don't go to plan as she can still remember Robin, but has no idea who the blonde sheriff, who goes by the name of 'Emma Swan', is. Rated T. 

Being Miss Mills by Ultraboy181

The Final Battle is over. Everyone has started to get on with their lives. But when the Savior vanishes it's up to her family to find her. But Emma is closer than they think. Rated M.

Villains Don’t Get Happy Endings by lizardmm

It had been her sacrifice—the price she had to pay. Save everyone she had cursed for 28 years while simultaneously losing the one person she loved the most. Villains, after all, didn't get a Happy Ending. That was reserved for Princesses and Saviors. A 'what if' story where it's Regina, not Hook, who visits Emma in NYC at the beginning of 3B. Rated M. 

Bait And Switch by JuiceCup

Henry Mills is sick and tired of his mothers skating around the truth and not realizing that they are perfect for each other and that they belong together. So he has a plan to bring them together and convinces his grandmother to help. Rated Mature.   

Return To Storybrooke by MadameCissy

Emma begins having dreams in which she sees a dark stranger who knows her name. When Henry begins to talk about a place called Storybrooke, Emma is convinced her son is making things up. But who is the woman in her dreams who keeps calling her and why does Emma feel she has somehow seen her before? Rated T. 

Whatever This Is by afictionado

Emma thinks she and Regina are becoming friends, and it's... weird. Rated Mature. 

The Queen And Her Lady by StarvingLunatic

Regina is in a dark place after the death of her mother and Henry walking away from her. She locks herself away in her house, shutting out the world. She is ready to completely give up when an injured puppy ends up in her backyard. She saves the puppy ... or maybe the puppy saves her. Rated T. 

How A Dress Changed Everything by hope2x

In an act of desperation, Regina casts a spell that takes her back to the day Henry leaves for Boston. She wants to keep Emma from ever entering Storybrooke, but when she takes Henry's place, she finds herself completely unprepared for the woman who answers the door. Regina has a chance to do it all again, but no matter what, she can't escape one fact. All magic comes with a price. Rated M. 

Chasing Henry by starsthatburn

Tired of the tricks and lies of both of his mothers, Henry follows the dwarves, Red and Granny when they use Tiny's magic beans to return themselves to their old land. Emma and Regina both chase after him, and they reluctantly travel together through the Enchanted Forest in order to find him and bring him back home safely. Rated M. 

For Henry by AdmHawthorne

Regina broods over what she dislikes about Emma Swan while she makes her morning coffee only to be confronted by the sheriff moments later. The morning ends with Emma showing insight, Regina showing a crack in her armor, and the potential for something more to happen for both of them. Rated T. 

Amor Fati by coalitiongirl

Just days after Emma announces her engagement, Regina is found in her vault without any memory of the past five seasons. The newly returned Mayor Mills is caustic, scheming, unnerved by her own future, and loves only Henry– and she might see more clearly than anyone around her.

Then again, that might not be for the best. Rated Mature. 

A Dark Ocean by chilly_flame

When Regina is injured in an accident, Emma steps in to assist. Rated Mature. 

Approximately 525, 600 Minutes by Reighne

Regina wakes up with a wedding ring on her finger, and a panicking Sheriff on the phone. Set approximately six months after Zelena, and assumes that the Frozen story arc has also been completed. Henry has moved back in with Regina. Rated M. 

Conviction by Velace

When Queen Regina discovered Snow White and Prince Charming had sent their child to another land, she decided not to enact the Dark Curse. Twenty-two years later, Emma Swan awoke in the Enchanted Forest. Thankful for the escape from the horrors of her previous life, she decided to embrace the new and found herself among the Evil Queen's Guard three years later. Rated Explicit. 

If The Blazer Fits by FlyYouFools(MK47)

Emma decides to dress up like Regina for a Halloween party at The Rabbit Hole, a seemingly innocent decision that surprisingly leads to a relationship. The romance is openly feared by some and secretly despised by an unlikely source, who plots to end it. Rated Mature. 

Que Sera, Sera by Velace

For months, Regina has tried to find a way to save Emma. Tasked with delivering yet another hope speech, as the Dark One refuses to listen to anyone else, she realizes she has none to give and Emma finally opens up. Rated Explicit. 

A Queen Without Power by Caroline

It was difficult to describe, but in a way... she felt connected to Regina now. They had been at each other's throats consistently since her arrival in Storybrooke and yet she felt the most unusual pull to her. Rated T. 

Operation Wings by Dakota829Snow

There's only one way for Tinkerbell to earn back her wings: complete the task of finding Regina's soul mate. Rated M. Only available on Dropbox, you will need an account to view correctly. 

A ‘Second’ Chance by MacNorthSea

"You did this," were the words that Regina spoke to Emma when she lost her happiness one more time. Could Emma somehow fix their tentative friendship and forge something new, perhaps stronger? Or were they fated to always be enemies? As Emma needed to go to New York to deal with things, Henry suggested they all took a break from Storybrooke, just not in those words... Rated T. 

Many Miles To Avalon by wistfulwatcher

When Emma is pulled from her happy life in New York to help save her family in the Enchanted Forest, she embarks on a journey to Camelot with Regina, Snow, and Henry to find Merlin's Twin Blades and stop a deadly threat. But a single savior cannot wield two swords and as their quest unfolds Emma and Regina begin to discover just how much more powerful they are together than apart. Rated M. 

Tame The Dragon by morshon

Emma finally comes up with the perfect plan to get Regina to go on a date with her: Ask. Now she just needs her to say yes. Takes place in a happy future post-cora and with a more mature Henry who doesn't hate his mom. Rated M. 

For Too Long by Velace

Six Months after their return to the Enchanted Forest, Regina and Emma have developed an odd sort of friendship. Regina is the Advisor to King and Queen (Charming and Snow) and Emma Swan is a... less than traditional Princess who disappears for weeks on end with the once Evil Queen. Rated Mature. 

Static by WaywardCharlie

After being tortured by Greg, then using just about all her magical strength to stop the trigger, Regina's magic has become unstable. She locks herself away in her house, refusing to let anyone help. Plagued by accidents, forced to endure nightmares and relive memories her magic keeps thrusting upon her, will this be what breaks her? Rated M.

So Does This Make Us Both The Other Woman? by coalitiongirl

Set after 3b in a peaceful Storybrooke where Regina is with Robin and Emma's fallen into a relationship with Hook.

Shame about all that subtext that's rapidly threatening to become text. Rated Teen and Up. 

Starting Over Again by AdmHawthorne

Regina has to to decide, if she had the opportunity to come at life with a clean slate, would she? Her decision changes everything. Rated T. 

Destiny Is The Rabbit Hole by MaggieMerc

Henry begging Regina to rescue Snow White and Emma from the Enchanted Forest in the season 2 premiere sets the formerly evil queen on a quest that takes her from the mountains of the Middle Kingdom to the pirate lair of a serial killer and straight into conflict with her own villain, the Queen of Hearts. Rated T. 

Back To The Start by withgirl

After trying to stop the trigger, Regina finds herself back in the Pilot, but with her knowledge of the future, how will she do things differently? Rated T. 

The Queen’s Favour by anamatics

The queen's favor is given to few, even fewer when the queen has a reputation for being heartless and cruel. A traveler has been having dreams about searching for something that no longer exists in this world, except where you least expect to find it. Rated T.

Hide and Seek by absedarian

Regina realizes some things in Neverland, all of which lead her to the conclusion that she doesn't want to stand in the way of what she thinks is Henry's and Emma's happy ending. She decides to leave but is that really what they want? And why is Snow suddenly acting strange? Rated M. 

The Last Resort by Dakota829Snow

When Snow realizes Gold is after Regina and Emma's truelove children, the family will do anything to keep them safe-including sending them back in time to the care of their former selves. Rated K+. Only available on Dropbox, you will need an account to view correctly. 

When Magic Collides by BlueHoneyBee

It all started off as a simple dinner to keep Emma out of the rain, and before she knew it, Regina's life had completely turned upside down. Rated M. 

Love Of The Lost by hope2x

No matter what Regina does, Henry just clings to the dream of a perfect life for himself & who he believes his "real" family to be. So when another child is in need of the love Regina has to give, is it wrong to allow herself that chance at happiness? As some relationships crumble and fall, others bloom & start to grow & everyone learns that happy endings are never what they seem. Rated T. 

The Games by edean13

Regina is a single Queen leading her lands with no problem; her court thinks she needs to marry. So, she suggests a competition for her hand. What happens when the White Kingdom enters their little princess, Princess Emma? Rated T. 

The Wrong Way by pcworth

Zelena offers Regina a chance to go back in time with her to change both of their lives for the better. But will Regina do it or can she find something else in her life to make her see the positives. Rated M. 

Break Yourself Against My Stones by Sinmora

Mary Margaret and David get sucked into the portal instead of Emma. Emma agrees to protect Regina from the citizens of Storybrooke as long as she agrees to help her get her parents back, and finds an unexpected friend and ally in the mayor. Rated M. 

By Process Of Elimination by hope2x

Always competing, Emma and Regina find themselves getting just a bit carried away one night. In the morning both are shocked to find their situation has changed and in a town with magic, not everything is so easily fixed. The two suddenly have to find some way to get along before one does't make it out alive. Rated M. 

Penance by SgtMac

Ten years ago, Regina was kidnapped by the Home Office, and put through three years of torture. When she finally returns home, she's been dramatically changed - both mentally and physically. With the HO threatening to return for her, it will be the ties she has to her son and the rest of her family that will keep her strong. Rated T.

The Color Red by Sinmora

When Emma and Hook get sucked into the time portal, they change the timeline far more than they could have imagined and return to a far different Storybrooke. Can Emma set things right before her best friend loses her True Love forever? Would she sacrifice her own chance at happiness to make things right again and bring back the Storybrooke she left? Rated M.

Safe by SgtMac

Afraid of what she'll do to Snow, Emma and Henry kidnap an enraged and heartbroken Regina and take her out of Storybrooke so that she can heal in a place without magic. Along the way, they help each other deal with the traumas and mistakes of their pasts and move towards a possible future together as a family. Rated T. 

A Trail Of Destruction by starsthatburn

A hostage situation in City Hall leaves behind a battered, broken sheriff, and a mayor wracked with guilt. Rated M. 

The Secret’s In The Telling by pyrophoric

"It's the sixth of October. A pivotal moment in Storybrooke's history and the turning point in Regina Mills' life. And it all began with a spell, a Sheriff, and a thief."  Rated T. 

Double Trouble by sea-ess-eye

Teenage versions of Emma and Regina appear in Storybrooke and to everyone's surprise the girls hit it off immediately... Rated M.

The following fics are all based in an alternate universe:

In Search Of A Queen by RavensDarkness

Emma Swan is the princess and heir to the largest and most wealth kingdom in FTL. She wants for nothing, except a wife who will love her for more than just her title and will be a true co-ruler. To escape an arranged marriage, Emma flees to the realm of earth with her best friend Killian Jones, to find her queen. Disguised as a foreign student working as a janitor, she falls for Regina but struggles with revealing her true identity. Rated Teen and Up.

Keep The Wolves Outside By Living Well by amycarey

An under-qualified nanny. A troubled child. A mysterious, prickly employer. A small town teeming with secrets. A love story. A ghost story. Rated Mature. 

Why Do We Fall, Emma? by BooklandReeve

Emma Swan is a guardian angel who just can't seem to get it right, and Henry Mills is her last chance before she gets reassigned to guard duty. Henry Mills is a smart kid in a small town with a big mouth, a bigger imagination, and an iron will so unshakable that his last guardian quit in protest. Regina Mills... isn't exactly something Emma is prepared to deal with. Rated Teen and Up.   

The Proposal: SQ Style by Forbidden-savior

Meet Regina: She has a problem. Meet Emma: She's the solution to that problem. The Proposal with a SwanQueen twist. Rated T. 

The Art Of Being Extraordinary by purplehershey

Henry, age 23, decides to give the crowd what they want, what they really want. A story. So he tells them the only one he knows: the greatest love story of all time, and it just so happens, that this love story is his mothers'. Henry's on and off POV. Rated T. 

An Impractical Affliction by kirkmills

Love in the Swan family is a little difficult, thanks to their ancestor Maria's curse, and none know it better than Emma Swan. All Emma wants is a quiet life and to finally be free from heartbreak, but loving a Swan woman is a dangerous thing, and unfortunately for Emma there's a little boy and a beautiful woman in her life who seem determined to do just that. Rated M.

Educating Emma by Bond.Jane

Emma finds it difficult to adapt to the White court: She has her foot permanently in her mouth, the manners of a peasant and a family that covets Snow's throne is out to eliminate her. There is only one person capable of teaching Emma what she needs to survive: the very same Regina Snow has kept secretly imprisoned for the last year. Rated T. 

When Swanprincess Met EvilQueen101 by amycarey

Emma Swan never expected her vlog to take off like it did, but she likes the community and occasionally getting drunk and ranting into a camera is a decent way to make a bit of cash. Regina Mills films a rather higher class of vlog, a chance to be creative after days working analysing bacteria samples in a lab and to discuss day-to-day life as a single mom. When Regina has a bad day and posts a video she immediately regrets, she doesn’t expect for it to become as notorious as it does, and she vows to destroy the person who popularised her deeply embarrassing rant, some idiot known as 'swanprincess'.

But when rumours spread about sexual harassment in the Boston YouTube community, the pair may be forced to put aside their differences and work together. Rated Mature. 

Sequestered by I.heart.mean.girls

The curse is still in place and Henry has yet to go searching for his birth mother. Regina is forced to leave Storybrooke following an unexpected event, and meets Emma. What would have happened if Emma and Regina hadn't gotten off on the wrong foot? Rated M.

The Bucket List by hunnyfresh

Regina Mills is in the midst of a midlife crisis where she finds herself doing the same things every day. After creating a bucket list, her best friend of twenty years, Emma Swan, seeks to help her complete the list, though they both cross off more than they expected. Rated M.

Teaching Miss Mills by HelveticaBrown

Emma is a gym teacher, who moves to Storybrooke Academy after becoming disenchanted with her job back in Boston. Regina Mills is the Head of English who Emma somehow seems to keep having run-ins with, despite the best of intentions. Along the way, Emma adjusts to life in a small town, gets her teaching mojo back, and gradually grows closer to Regina. Rated Mature. 

Dangerous Desires by SwanQueenUK

New paramedic, Regina Mills, catches the eye of firefighter, Emma Swan, when she joins the ranks of Firehouse 7 in Boston. Dangerous situations, high risk jobs, forbidden relationships and pent up emotions swirl together for a slow burn SwanQueen (pun intended). Rated M.

Send Up A Signal by coalitiongirl

Emma Swan is catapulted into stardom, the newest lead actress on a sanitized show featuring modern fairytales. Regina Mills is a long-undermined star with a chip on her shoulder and a thousand reasons why she's invested. Naturally, they loathe each other on sight. Rated Mature. 

Shadow Haven by Delirious-Comfort

Emma Swan is a PR agent who is sent on a holiday by her boss. Regina Mills is the owner of a private island named Shadow Haven. There is more to Regina than initially meets the eye. This story dips heavily into the BDSM subculture. Rated M.

Coffee To Go by unicyclehippo

Emma is new in town with her young son Henry. She runs into a certain dark-haired woman at the diner and decides, quite abruptly, that there is no one else for her in the whole wide world. I mean, no one ever said love made sense. Especially not when you can barely speak around the Mayor, let alone profess your love. Rated T. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: The Beginning of Wisdom - Chapter 4 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: Flash, Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Leonard Snart (Len) & Leonard Snart (Leo), Len Snart/Mick Rory, Leo Snart/Mick Rory, Len Snart/Mick Rory/Leo Snart, Leo Snart/Ray Terrill, Len Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: In which Leonard Snart is twins.

(the life and times and loves of Len and Leo Snart)

—————————————————————————————————–

The moment Len saw the squat grey building, filled with angry teenagers and indifferent adults, he knew that this was not going to go well for him.

His fingers twitched.

He tried to stop what he knew was coming, reaching for the breathing techniques that Leo had found for him, the visualization, whatever he could, but it was unstoppable: his anxiety was ramping up, and with the anxiety came the sickness, and with the sickness came theft.

And with theft came anger and pain.

It was less than three hours later that one of the other boys noticed Len filching something out of his pocket – Len wasn’t even sure what it was, since the point was to take rather than to have – and turned on him.

The boy's face twisted up in rage (Len's father's rage writ in miniature but no less gruesome for it) and he moved to strike. Len backed off immediately, hands raised in apology, mouthing pointless words of disclaimer, but it did him no good.

By himself, the boy would have been no threat: Len knew well enough how to fight, and even to fight dirty enough to drive away most men twice his size.

But the boy was not alone.

Five of his friends, formed into a little gang by ruthlessness and a desire to partake of power they could not obtain alone, joined in, and against five of them – all older and stronger than Len, even if he hadn't been half-starved from sharing every meal meant for one boy between two – even Len's finest twists and tricks could not stand.

They beat him down, forced him down with their fists and their kicks, and once they had him down they did not stop but continued, savagery unleashed, and Len covered his head with his arms as best as he could, wondering if Leo would ever forgive him if Len died within a day of leaving Leo's side.

He wondered, sick in his stomach, if Leo would be twisted by his death, the way Len had been by being forced to kill.

He did not wonder if help would come.

Help never came.

He saw one of the boys pull out a short stubby blade, a too-sharp razor.

He thought of Leo.

He thought of Lisa.

He thought –

He thought that this would be the end of him.

It wasn’t.

Another boy barreled into the fray, unexpected and unimaginable, roaring like a motorcycle without a muffler, his fists swinging wildly, and the other boys scattered before him. The new boy was tall and broad-shouldered and muscular, even as a teenager; there were burns littering his hands and forearms; and it was clear that the other boys were terrified of him.

Len looked up at him from where he was curled up on the ground.

The boy looked down at him.

Len waited for a price to be demanded.

Nothing was forthcoming.

The boy's face flattened into indifference, instead, and he began to turn to leave.

“This won’t mean that I’ll like you, you know,” Len said to him. He’d promised Leo he’d protect his heart (no new friends) so he couldn’t go on and lose it to the first person that wasn’t Leo who’d ever done something nice for him without wanting anything in exchange.

The boy who’d saved him snorted and walked away without a word.

Len might have even been able to keep to that promise, if he'd had some luck – except he never really did have any luck.

“You were originally supposed to be rooming with Anthony,” the teacher in charge of assigning him into a room told Len when she picked him up from the nurse’s office. He'd gotten some pills and plaster, and that was all; it didn't really help much, but he appreciated it regardless. “That’s going to be an issue.”

“Why?”

“He was one of the ones you got into a fight with earlier.”

Len stared at her. That wasn’t an issue. That was a death sentence.

"Don't worry," the teacher assured Len. "We've moved your room so you won’t be with him."

Len picked up his small bag and mutely followed the teacher to his new room. He was still sore and tender, limping a little, but no blood had been spilt and so it wasn't considered too serious a fight.

Perhaps that was why there was no mention of any other measures to be taken to keep this from happening again beyond the shifted rooms.

Len was seriously starting to worry that he wouldn't make it through the three months he was sentenced without breaking his promise to Leo about not dying in here.

"This room," the teacher said, stopping.

Len looked inside.

The boy who had saved him looked back.

Len abruptly realized that this was going to be a bigger problem than he had originally anticipated.

He resolved to hold out as long as he could.

He managed three days.

He’d never slept without Leo before, not really. They’d never had the money for trips or anything, and even if they had they wouldn’t have gone. The few times he’d been away from home overnight on a job he hadn’t slept out of sheer paranoia. Even when he’d taken a nap in the middle of the day, Leo usually came and curled up with him first to help get him under.

He didn’t know how to fall asleep without Leo.

So he didn’t.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling, all evening long.

The next day he was exhausted: the only benefit being that he was also too exhausted to steal anything and start any new fights that he would most assuredly lose.

The day after that was worse.

The night on the third day, an hour or so after Len settled in for his nightly ceiling-watching routine, dull in its unending horror, his roommate – who had otherwise been avoiding him at lunch and dinner and in their classes – finally spoke.

“You look like you’re about to collapse.”

“Fuck you too,” Len replied muzzily. It had been his go-to response all day, regardless of what the other side said. He couldn’t really hear them all that well anyway.

“Why don’t you just go to sleep already?”

“Can’t,” Len admitted.

“Is there anything you can do about it?”

“Maybe. You won’t like it, though.”

“At this point, I’d rather you do whatever the hell you need to do to go to sleep than risk you attacking me in a sleep-deprived psychotic break,” Len’s roommate said dryly. “I know you’re new, but it – uh - it ain’t all that unusual for people to do stuff like that, in here. Just to relax enough to sleep, y’know. We’re all teenage boys here. I don’t mind.”

“You – don’t?”

“Nope. Go ahead. I won’t say nothing. I won’t judge and I won’t say nothing about it tomorrow, either. I promise.”

“Okay,” Len said, because at this point he didn’t really feel like he had much choice. He was either going to have to trust his roommate or he was going to die of exhaustion. “Thanks.”

“No probl – what are you doing?!”

Len had climbed down off of his top bunk and was in the process of climbing into his roommate’s bed. He paused and glared sleepily at his roommate, who was gaping at him.

“You said you wouldn’t say nothing,” Len said accusingly. Sadly, with his current state of exhaustion, accusing mostly came off as sulky.

“I ain’t helping you out with it or nothing,” his roommate said. His eyes were very large and mostly white around the edges, like he was scared or something. Len didn’t know why – he was much smaller and weaker than the other boy, not scary at all – but he was too tired to really think it through.

“You don’t gotta do nothing,” Len promised him, slinging a leg and an arm over before ducking his head and putting it on his roommate’s shoulder.

It was weird, doing this with someone who wasn’t Leo – and besides, Len usually preferred to be the one being curled up to, not the one doing the curling up – but it wasn’t exactly a bad sort of weird, and anyway it did the trick: he was out within seconds.

The next morning, he woke up warm and happy and nestled in his roommate’s arms.

He yawned and got up, which woke said roommate up.

“Thanks,” Len said again. He knew they’d agreed not to talk about it in the morning, but he felt lots better, so he figured it was worth saying at least once.

His roommate blinked at him. “…you don’t sleep alone at home,” he said.

It sounded a bit like a question.

“No,” Len said. “I’ve got a brother.”

“Okay,” his roommate said, suddenly relaxing. “Okay. Right. That wasn’t what I thought you were going to do, you know.”

“You didn’t?” Len asked, surprised. “What did you think I’d do?”

Nothing else had even occurred to him.

His roommate arched his eyebrows at him and made a very familiar up-and-down gesture.

It took Len less than a second to identify it, and then another put the pieces together.

He turned bright red and started spluttering.

Well, yes, he could see how someone would – to try to fall asleep – okay, maybe - and then with the bed-sharing thing…

Oh, lord.

His roommate started laughing.

“My name’s Mick,” he said when he got control of himself again. “Mick Rory. I’ll keep an eye on you from now on.”

“You don’t gotta do that,” Len protested, because Mick really didn’t. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re funny,” Mick said, his grin going crooked and almost sad. “And because I used to have to share my bed with my brother, too.”

Len wouldn’t understand the reason for the expression on Mick’s face for a while yet, but it didn’t matter: Mick had saved him, and curled up with him, and didn’t mock him for it, and he had a brother, too.

Len found himself smiling back at Mick.

His chest hurt, but in a good sort of way.

(Leo was going to kill him.)

Leo was, in fact, going to kill him.

Len finally managed to get a call to the right number by the end of the week – he hadn’t let Leo tell him which friend he would be staying with out of fear that their father would remember that he had two Leonards instead of one and might try to beat the information out of Len on their way to the juvie – and Leo figured it out within ten minutes.

“You found someone,” he said coldly, glaring at the phone. He knew he shouldn’t have allowed Len out by himself: less than a week, and already two crises, one physical and the other emotional.

One averted, the other ongoing.

“My roommate, Mick,” Len admitted. Some secrets could not be kept, and should not be kept, and certainly not from his brother. He wanted Leo to like Mick. “I like him.”

“Of course you do,” Leo said with a groan. He was going to hate this ‘Mick’ person, he just knew it. In fact, he hated him already. How dare he take advantage of Len’s loneliness? “You like people far too easily.”

“I don’t like anyone!” Len exclaimed, indignant. “You’re the one who’s friendly!”

“Friendly, sure,” Leo said. He didn’t need to say anything more to make it clear: for all of Leo’s smiles and friendliness, he was far more likely to hold other people at arm’s length than Len, to treat them as friends without ever truly caring about them. Even though Len was the one who disdained people, the one who enforced his father’s rule regarding people who tried to leave a job before it was done, his heart bled for them even as he did.

Len conceded the point.

Leo waited in silence.

“You’ll like him,” Len said at last.

Leo snorted.

“I want you to like him,” Len amended.

“What does he do?” Leo asked.

“I don’t like him because he can do things,” Len said, rolling his eyes. “I just – like him. That’s how you’re supposed to make friends, isn’t that what you’re always saying? No reason, just because?”

“Friends, yes,” Leo said patiently. Len had never understood this particular nuance: perhaps he was right in suggesting that Leo should consider being a psychologist. “But you don’t have friends. Not you. You have me and you have Lisa.”

And Dad and the long-gone Marie, though that went unsaid. They had begun fighting about their father, before Len had been sent away; Len thinking that Leo seemed far too angry regarding their father, Leo enraged that Len could not bring himself to hate the man who hurt them both.

Len scowled into the phone. If Leo thought that reminding Len of how rarely his affections were granted would be enough to convince him to drop this, then he was severely mistaken. “And now I have Mick, too.”

Leo scowled into the phone, a perfect mirror to Len far away. It was worse than he’d thought; this ‘Mick’ person had burrowed past Len’s defenses and made his way into Len’s heart, the soft parts deep inside, and there would be no removing him now except perhaps by ensuring his absence.

And even then, Len would always miss him, just as he still missed the long-gone Marie.

Still, better to miss them and think of them fondly then to let them break Len’s heart or use it to abuse him.

“Stay wary,” Leo warned. “He’ll only hurt you, in the end.”

Len licked his lips. He wanted Leo to understand, but he didn’t know if he could: the strange way Mick made him feel. The way his belly grew warm, and his heart grew light, and even his hands grew calm because he didn’t have to worry about anything when Mick was by his side. “He wants to protect me,” he finally said.

He realized as soon as he said it that it was a mistake.

Leo’s eyes narrowed and he glared at the phone. “I protect you.”

“In here –” Len started, but it was too late.

“Do you want me to find a way to get in there?” Leo asked. His voice was friendly and calm and nice. He was unimaginably pissed off.

“No,” Len said. “I didn’t mean – you know I didn’t mean –��

Leo softened, but only a little. “I know,” he agreed. His brother would never pick anyone over him.

“I can’t do this alone,” Len said, as close as he could come to saying ‘I miss you’ without admitting emotion. Their father despised emotion even more than he despised admitting weakness; Len could state the facts and describe the effects of his failure, but he could not convey what he truly meant. Not anymore. Not without being eaten alive from the inside by his own terror, crawling up from his belly to choke the words away.

Another reason for Leo to hate their father.

“If you want,” Len said after a long few moments of silence. He did not want to make the offer he knew he had to make: to give up Mick, so soon after he had found him. To give up not just what he offered, safety and protection and company, but to give up the man himself: gruff and violent, but also kind and lonely. He did not want to make this offer; he felt as though his heart were being ripped in half at the thought of it. But this was Leo. This was the other half of himself. He could not lose the bond between them; nothing was worth the bond between them. They’d agreed. “If it’s important to you, I can –”

“No,” Leo said, interrupting as quickly as he could. He’d heard that pain in Len’s voice before, usually when he could only protect either Leo or Lisa and not both. Len clearly missed home more than he had let on, or else juvie was worse than he was admitting, and the thought of life without Mick’s protection was terrifying him. Leo hated that terror and pain more than he hated the pains of his own jealousy; if it meant he had to share Len for a little while longer, so be it. “No. You keep your Mick, if it helps you.”

There were three months to go, Leo thought to himself. Mick would get in deep, yes, but Len still offered to give him up after mere moments. Surely there would be time to extract him before he did any permanent damage to Len. Leo would never permit that to happen, if he could.

Len breathed a sigh of relief. He would not have to give up Mick, and he had three months to find a way to make Mick acceptable to Leo; that was not nothing.

Three months passed, a blur of phone calls and daily routines. There was good and there was bad, more fights and more loneliness and not enough calls, but also the experience for the first time of eating a full meal meant for one boy alone, meals that they both cheerfully scarfed it all down, no matter how unappetizing, to the amazement of those around them.

And then it ended.

Len returned home. His first meeting was with his father: it went well, insofar as it ever did, meaning that he neither needed to kill anyone nor did he require medical assistance after, his father assuming that his time in juvie would have helped to make Len more obedient to his wishes.

His second meeting was with Lisa, who ran out to embrace him.

His third meeting was with his brother.

They were in each other’s arms at once.

“I missed you,” Leo said, saying what Len could not.

“I – ditto,” Len said.

There was peace between them until dinnertime, when Len was sketching out some story to Lisa about his time at ‘camp’, as they had agreed to refer to it, and Leo said, very pleasantly, “Do you know, that's the fifth time you've mentioned Mick?”

Len fell silent.

“That’s because he’s Lenny’s friend,” Lisa objected, looking between them with a frown. “A real friend, not like your buddies from school. And that means he’s your friend, too, right?”

Leo looked at Len. Len looked at Leo.

“It doesn’t matter,” Leo said after a moment. “He’s very far away, now.”

“Yes,” Len said, his hands curling in his lap. “See, Lise, he’s got three more months left of ‘camp’ before he gets out.”

“Oh,” she said, but she was looking between them suspiciously, aware that there was something more to it than that. “Okay?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Len said, and Leo nodded. Lisa hated it, the rare times they argued, and whenever possible they kept from doing it before her.

Once she was in bed, however…

“You know when he’s coming out,” Leo said flatly.

Len turns to him. “More than that,” he said, his head held high and shoulders squared. “I intend to be there to pick him up.”

“Pick him up and take him – where? He can’t come here.”

“Of course not here. He’ll get an apartment in the city; he’s got some savings. And he’ll get a job –”

“An illegal one, I’m sure,” Leo sneered.

“I hadn’t realized that’d become such a problem,” Len snapped, his face gone pale. “Since that’s my plan, too.”

Leo realized his misstep. “You know I didn’t mean –”

“He’s going to work with me,” Len said in a sudden rush, the words flowing out of his mouth faster than he could stop them. “He’s going to watch my back and be my partner.”

Leo went still.

Len stared at him.

“I thought I was your partner,” Leo said. His back was straight now, too; his hands clenched into fists. This Mick had infiltrated far deeper than he’d feared. “I thought that was me. Is three months enough to change that?”

“You’re going to go straight, Leonard,” Len said. “I’m going to keep crooked. We’re gonna walk separate paths. Is it so wrong for me not to want to walk mine alone?”

“You’re never going to be alone,” Leo said fiercely. He should have realized: his brother was always one for flexible plans that could be changed, a contrast to Leo’s desire for an orderly progression that would remain unchanged. So strange, then, that Len liked math, with its neat lines and solid rules, and Leo the more subjective sciences, but perhaps it was only them liking something that reminded them of each other. “Never, Leonard. We’re always going to be two.”

“Two, yes, but not two together. You’ll have Lisa on your road,” Len said, reaching out and taking Leo’s hand. “And I’ll have Mick. I ain’t asking you to like him right off the bat. Just – give him a chance.”

Leo stared at his brother.

“I want this,” Len said, feeling guilty. He always asked for so much from Leo: his friendship, his love, his tolerance. His brother, who knew what a thief he was, who let him take the missions with their father, who agreed to take the steps towards a totally different type of life, a life he didn't even know if he wanted, and all of that for him. His brother, who was him. “I want this, this chance. Let me show you that he’s worth it.”

Leo nodded helplessly. His foolish brother, his brother who always sought to protect Leo from everything he could, almost never asked for anything for himself – this, and Leo’s goodness, were the only requests Leo could recall that were not in fact attempts to take the pain of others upon himself.

He could no more deny this request than to deny Len himself.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll give him a chance, Leonard.”

“Thank you, Leonard.”

“But if I don’t approve –”

“I know,” Len said. “If you hate him...” He fell silent and bowed his head.

If it came to that, he would make the choice he had to.

He would give Mick up.

“Good,” Leo said with satisfaction. At least he was still first in Len’s heart. At least he was still best.

At least he would have one last chance to save Len from his own stupid heart.

[hanzi83]

Reflection

I never know where to start, and even though I have a nice reflection in my head to sort it out, it feels like after a massive attack that didn’t seem to affect at that moment, but it left me a little shook from it because I guess since I have pissed off a lot of people in the media, wrestling industry, the political spectrum, the Stern Show, and even people I know personally. I go on irrational rants and tangents because when something seems positive, I have a knack for thinking the ambush will come and I transform into such a dark human being, and it is probably because I am online entirely too much. I have tried to stay away, but in this time period with all the craziness, I feel I need to be on top of this ever minute, and because I see what corruption is taking place and no one seems to want to speak out on true evils, it inspires me to feel the need to go at people because I feel they are shilling, and then I sit back and wonder if this is all a game and we are all playing roles. It could be that I am just severely mentally ill and thinking outside the box, in the system’s perception is still very much in a box and because I assume people are 100 steps ahead, I try to think at that level, even though it makes me sound incredibly stupid and insane to people.

It is important for me to write these when I can, because I feel like my mindset and mood changes drastically and sometimes it feels you are going to snap, which people are constantly pushing me to do. The fact that it could be childhood friends I know  kepartaking in it drives me crazy because if anyone who is super nice to me in person, and they have this anonymous dark side where they can just fucking harass you. I suspect everyone is a part of systemic clique and there are different factions spread out all over the world. Most people don’t agree with that sentiment because there are assholes online misconstruing what is going on and tying it into some right wing shit and then anyone who believes in those conspiracies are all shunned. It is just scary and that is why I am completely transparent because I know my behavior leaves a lot to be desired, but I know that others in the system are behaving worse than me but are making it look like you are some normal person.

People coming into my platforms to tell me to kill myself and try to scare me by insinuating that Howard sent them and if they are telling the truth, I could point it out and they can claim it is someone just riling me up, but if someone is trying to rile someone up that has mental illness that is also pretty sick. When my mental illness kicks in, it becomes difficult to control and I have paid attention to the patterns that are displayed and what is my threshold for how much of a verbal gang bang I can take and sometimes it feels I reach my limit and feel like I am going to break down.

I destroy the good will I build up in a millisecond because of sick people’s desires to see me snap and the sicker part about it is that it is so disguised, that me seeing through it or thinking I have seen through it, people will not believe me and if they don’t I start to throw one of my many tantrums and then I want to offend everyone and everything because my illness makes me want to get people’s attention and by saying the most vile and harsh things that can be thought of, and just say it. And as good as the rush feels at that moment when the devil takes over, I then feel bad about it, and start to reflect on it and then I bump around between this duality of thinking I was wrong to go on that diatribe or am I really justified because these people are possibly doing something far more dangerous.

I could keep quiet like I have in the past, but keeping quiet about shit built up all this frustration and when I would attempt to in the moments of being “woke” I would be shut down because I didn’t have the confidence or self esteem to stand up for myself so I would go on one of my many breakdowns and then the people causing this would play it both ways by pretending to be concerned and also using the mental illness I have against me because they could do it and who would believe me. It has just transpired on a bigger fucking level when you become kind of known on a national platform and one of the biggest shows in radio history, and then when you think you have taken your licks so you can advance in paying your dues, you then get thrown to the side after you got all the use of my insanity and egging me on to call, which I don’t have any proof of but I am familiar with the patterns and the tactics where the same cycle of madness happens while the powerful party absolve themselves from the responsibility of what they may have caused. When you decide to play a long but still find ways to spew out truth, even with a lot of bullshit mixed with it because you have to act a little crazy to get the word out even if it doesn’t come out in the best representation. It is one thing to take the licks on the show, but then there is a perpetuated toxic fandom that exists where people are organizing to drive people crazy and piss them off so their life is in a constant state of mental chaos. I have taken this so much, and when I see people I know getting their opportunities and because I didn’t play ball because I don’t want to shut up about what my thoughts are, it makes people not want to work with me, or that one some level they are not allowed because behind the real scenes, there are rules and when someone is supposed to make an impact they will be chosen to, since the world is also a stage. To me it is all wrestling. I lose my mind because I don’t know if the intent is to make me stronger mentally or is this just a constant cycle and I will never fully recover from this.

I don’t deserve to be here and the higher powers that I feel run things and can take you out when they want, would just do that to me. Why keep someone here who is just a joke to everyone and will always be told to kill myself and there will always be people in my life that will never stop lying to me and if I dare inquire about it, it is meat with such subtle hostility. None of them would acknowledge what I have written, but I am sure they read this and discuss it amongst their group chats, because I am a fucking cornball and because I talk my shit, assuming they do that already about me, it makes me want to strike on someone preemptively because I feel they will always come for me. It has taken its toll, when you feel like you have been kept out of commission while everyone else has their chance to politic their way and now I see what the world is and how people would gun for your spot at any given moment, and the thought of having advanced knowledge and pretending I didn’t know what was going on and I was purposely putting propaganda out there, I would not know how to deal with it. I am not as strong as you mentally, I have toughened up and I am sure breaking down over the last decade has been incredibly amusing for a lot of you.

I hate that I have to write these and it is the same repeated shit. I am like a fucking sitcom that started off interesting but now I am playing the typical tropes and doing call backs for the sake of it and it doesn’t mean anything. I am simply a joke. I can’t even ask chicks out, because some of them are tainted and are connected with people that would be in their ear. I know it isn’t supposed to be said, but a lot of these relationships are manufactured and people are all fucking each other, but we have to present it like this wholesome type of deal, and I would not want to fall for someone who was sent to monitor me and serve as my handler because I am playing in a game that I never knew existed. This is all my opinion though. I don’t have enough experience or skills and this elaborate theories are the only thing I have concocted that makes me kind of interesting but depending on how sensitive you are, because you might be a part of what I am talking about, you will want the conversation to dial back because it becomes scary that someone lowly as me is a bit smarter than you think.

I feel like making all these enemies because I am on this “fuck the world” bullshit, I feel like people will destroy me mentally and I am just alive merely because I need to be a zoo animal for a lot of people. I know most people view me that way and will continue to view me that way. I can never get close to anyone, and it scares me because I say mean things to push people away because I don’t know if people are keeping me close because they want to keep their enemies closer and then they wait it out and when the time is right, I am out of there. The world is a scary fucking place. People don’t want to wake up to this and the ones who are, are pretending they are not because it would affect their bank account. It is fucked up. I will never be able to escape this mental prison. I feel like speaking out has really had its consequences mentally. I am beaten. I can say this because people will think it is the right time to add on to it, but then you are not ready for my insults, even as disrespectful as I have to get to make an asshole troll feel like shit.

If it were people who were just messing around, I get it, that exists, but there is a plethora of people that partake in organized harassment and strike when they need to. Some people do it for the sake of evil, and some do it for the sake of lesser evil. I know these blogs are boring and repetitive but it is all I have, because I can’t talk to anyone about this and not having people understand my view, when I have constantly bought into the official narrative view and there is always something has been misleading about it and then pretending they never had messed up and it only becomes a convenient truth when they need to profit off it. This is why I am afraid people will cover this organized harassment I am facing from potentially of someone who is a big mogul in the game. It fucks with your head that someone could be revered within his industry and it just makes me wonder if people are scared to speak out or is everyone just a bunch of assholes.

I hate writing these because I know it will be inevitable that I will have another blog where I spew venom, after all my birthday is coming up and it always solidifies that my existence is truly shit because I am lucky if it gets acknowledged by anyone in my life personally so much so that I decide not to wish any of them a happy birthday because I know they will not include with their celebrations due to being connected to people higher up on the food chain and then the ones I am invited to are extremely limited and more so a distraction, at least I feel, and then I spin out of control that people locally will show off their exuberate and fancy lifestyle but in such a transparent mixed subtly and then if I further ask questions I will get an uncomfortable response and if I don’t inquire, my mental illness kicks in. I start mixing up the past with the future and apply what was done back then will repeat itself in a more nuanced presentation and instead of having to face that I would rather face death. I know I have to continue living and seeing everyone else winning and them knowing they used my connection to those higher ups and then tried making me humble when they are the ones who should be humble to me.

This is why I am poisonous for the world. People have profited enough, and they got away so okay fine, you win. I fucking lose. Can I leave now? “Why can’t you just fucking kill yourself” because whether you want to buy into my conspiracy, that if you are meant to die you will die, if someone who is supposed to be here attempts that task then they will be brought back or it will be made to be botched and then they have carte blanche to have control of someone. Not like they don’t already but even more an embarrassing and humiliating fashion on the surface so people can make you a fucking meme. No one wants to fucking see that truth and I understand I am small potatoes with what is going on, but when people in the system pretend they care about mental illness and I have been expressing my anger with what is going on and since no one will believe a word I say because it is not convenient for right now. It feels like they will probably look into it if something happens and it becomes too late, then they all will cover their bases and state “Oh my god, I didn’t even know, did you guys know?” jargon.

I don’t know if I will ever get better. I will never be on people’s level. It would be best for everyone if you thought about taking me out. I will continue living unfortunately but always know at the bottom of my heart I root for myself to be gone because too much has fucked with my weak mind and I always have been kind of brainwashed by plethora of things over my life and then getting extra mad about how I didn’t see it sooner and that is why I have been acting like a petulant child because everything that I thought I knew has completely done a mind fuck of a trick on me and fucked my brain up. And then I feel like because others have been fucked with and the people don’t have any idea and then pile on people while thinking you are doing it as freedom but you are doing it at behest of a shady system that controls the narratives.

[syndianites]

Paranoia is in Bloom

Fandom: Mianite Awakening

Summary: They all thought he was overly paranoid. The voices in his head didn’t. But maybe that was why the others thought he was crazy. Honestly? He didn’t care. If he had to, he would be the one to save them when his ‘paranoia’ paid off.

AN: Uhhhh, I remember at some point someone, maybe fans?, were talking about how ironic it was that people called Andor paranoid when he seemed to have some basis behind his paranoia? Lol, i dont remember at this point, but i can make fanfics from it! Anyway, this is for your birthday, Andor, but that was like, two days ago…. Whoops XD Happy late Birthday! At this point, Merry Christmas? I hope this wasn’t too bad, and that you liked it! Also, i tried to stay on topic, but tangents. Many tangents. Also, i dont reaaaally know how much your character is based on the Prince from the Fallen Kingdom, so i kinda… picked what I wanted out of it? Like, more than i should have? Oops.

@lolfzter

He wasn’t paranoid. Despite what the others may think, he did have a reason for his actions, he wasn’t just some child learning the ways of the world. He had learned the ways of the world. Maybe not all of them, but enough.

From a young age, he learned the necessity of work, of doing things yourself. That often times you could only safely rely on yourself, could only safely trust yourself to push through. But that wasn’t to say he was taught against making friends, against making alliances. There were, afterall, strength in numbers, in allied forces. And there was something nice about having friends.

It was only a little older that he learned that naivety could kill. That blindly trusting, recklessly brushing off your initial misgivings of someone could be dangerous. There was a strange knowing in your gut, some instinctual urge that judged on more than appearance. It wasn’t like he trusted many people anyway. Doing so made it too easy to be betrayed.

He learned to fight at that age. The whisper of air that curled around his swings, the pings of metal striking metal, the hissing of an arrows smooth arc past him. It all came eerily natural to him, irked some of the people who saw him in action. It was necessary, but it was somehow freeing.

To be so clearly in his element, to know each movement he needed to make, to fill that need to move, to become thoughtless, to fight. It was almost addicting. The way his enemies fell before him, the challenges he overcame, the triumphs he experienced. Battle enthralled him, called to him.

But, he conceded much later, he could only partake in it in moderation. Societal rules dictated that such conflicts were not agreeable, and that fighting, killing, just for the sake of it was morally wrong. As much as he felt the pull of battle, the yearning to see people crumple before him, part of him knew that he shouldn’t pursue such activities. Not if he wanted to maintain a semi-normal life. Not if he wanted to be a hero.

At least, that's what the voices in his head argued. If anyone asked of them, he’d scoff, telling the person of their childishness, of their strange conversations, of the weird way they seemed to think. Of course, this would only label him as crazier than he was, so he didn’t mention them. But if someone were to take that at face value, to ignore the thought that, this man must be insane, they would find it funny how ironic it was he considered his voices to be as such.

But no one wanted to hear about his head voices, and they were too busy thinking of strange ideas to care about being noticed. It was probably for the better that they had stayed below the radar. They would not have been well received.

It had only been a few years after he learned to fight that he found an excuse to. An excuse, and a real reason. Vengeance was, afterall, one of the more acceptable terms for battle. And it was what drove him forward, what set him before a being of inhuman strength and power.

Despite the more dedicated, perhaps even righteous, nature of his desire to fight he found himself slipping into another thought. The challenge this being gave him, the pure struggle that he could feel in his bones, that shook his core with each strike, that nearly blinded him with each clash, it sang to him. His voices had been rendered silent, whether awed or concerned, and the silence was peculiar. But it was the most silence his head had felt in such a long time. Though he had come to care for his voices, he found himself treasuring the silence.

Sharpened diamond pinged against sharpened diamond, a sound much different from metal, and for the first time in a long time, the sounds of battle were all that filled his head. Muted popping came from below as he was forced dangerously closer to the lava boiling below, yet the heat came as a comfort. His muscles burned with the same intensity, yet he relished the strain. Two pairs of eye connected, before lava blazed between them, and a ghastly cry was heard.

Getting some distance away from the otherworldly entity, a smirk, more of a smiling grimace, graced his mildly burnt complection. This was a fight he was determined to win, but the mere experience of it was exhilarating. To be nearly on par with some wretched creature of human likeness? It buffed his ego, but also called out to his inner warrior. Another enemy to trump, another person to best. He wanted to finish him, but not finish the fight. For once, his mind felt clear, felt in complete working order. As if fighting was what he was made to do.

But that too, ended. He won, rode off into the sunset like some cliche hero. Except it was more of a sunrise. The dawn of something new. Perhaps the yearning for battle had been quelled then. Maybe the lust for conflict found it's release. For a while after that, he was nearly content with the peace that held over his town of sorts.

Except… an urge in the back of his head was growing. His voices were anxious. Something wasn’t quite right. Someone wasn’t quite right. Though his gut told him to be wary, he brushed the thought aside. This was his home, his domain. Surely no one would be foolish enough to encroach upon it.

Well, he had been wrong. Wrong to assume it was safe. Wrong to deny the feeling he had. And now people he suffered for it. His voices didn’t accused him. They almost berated themselves, for not convincing him. But they knew, as he knew, that none of that mattered. That they could only push forward to rectify this. Afterall, what point is there on dwelling in the past?

Each fight pulled at him more. Like there was something he was… missing. Not anything tangible, but something he should know. But he didn’t. And there was something else going wrong behind him, behind the scenes. There was something getting ready to strike him, to rear its ugly head. No one else thought so. They could only see the end of this struggle coming out. It seemed to be in their favor, but something was getting close to breaking it. But they just didn’t see that.

And then it was too late. It struck while his back was turned. Literally. There was some great force, something seizing his muscles, strangling his cry, rendering him useless. Useless. And he lay there, motionless, confused, angry. And his world became enveloped in black.

That too, had been a while ago. That had been his first plunge into the void. Into nothingness. It It had been his first time meeting the strange person he knew now as Taylor, who couldn’t get rid of the flowers on her skin. (He didn’t think she wanted to anyway).

Back then was when he met his now closest friends, found that fighting was okay, that killing wasn't permanent. He had so many new experiences, was introduced to the cryptic priest he didn’t know he’d hurt to see die, helped revive the broken man he knew was going to die but pained over anyway.

So many new people, different rules, strange customs. Who needed a god? Apparently mortals. But he wasn’t going to conform to some pretentious sounding gods, and he wasn’t going to fold under the pressure of some weird old man.

And he didn’t. And he still wouldn’t. Back then his gut said to be wary of Birdy. It was right. Later, it said to be wary of the shadows. So far, he wasn’t sure if he was right. He wasn’t wrong.

Now. Now his gut said not to trust what he was told. Something in his head pulled at him. He refused to remain naive. And when Spector showed up, strange and crazy, he was going to listen to that pull. But he wasn’t going to let it drive him.

Much later, when he, along with the others, were left reeling, scurrying through the end, wondering what Hector really meant to Dal, he felt the pull. His voices muttered about, speaking of Dallas, of Spector, or was it just Hector at this point? They spoke hushedly about why she chose to stay with Spector.

But that wasn’t the real pull.

No. His head warned him of something else. It wasn’t something he could fight, or anyone could fight. There was no harm, well, physically harm he could see coming. Just like Sky, this was something fought within someone’s own mind. But not his. Hers. When it really came down to it, he wondered.

What would Spector do to Dallas?

(AN: Yeah, at some point i switched tense, on accident, and then it went back, but then it switched again. So. Well. Whoops. Supposed to be all past tense in the beginning. I think. And kinda present at the end? I should go back and edit, but its getting closer to one in the morning than i should get to, and tbh it prolly wouldnt help. Anyway, Happy (late) Birthday again Andor! I know at this point its Christmas, but ya know..... )

[michaelpatrickhicks]

My First-Ever ConFusion Convention!

So, I meant to write about this last week, but life, as it so often does, interrupted. Last week was a big, big week. We inaugurated a Russain-aided, bloviating, ignorant, walking spray tan with a bad comb-over as our forty-fifth President of the United States, and he's been stomping the shit out of our Constitution ever since, targeting women, journalists, science, intelligence agents, and immigrants with unbridled hostility. It seems like so much more time has passed than a mere week-plus, but we only just wrapped our first actual whole fucking week with the Pussy Grabber In Chief at the helm. 

Friday, Jan. 20, 2017 was a dreary, appropriately rainy, and depressing day. Thankfully, Saturday was pretty awesome, and I spent a good deal of time hanging out with the science fiction and fantasy fandom over at ConFusion 2017. This is a fan-run convention, and one of the longest running conventions of its kind, having started back in the early 1970s and celebrating its forty-third year. It's also an event that is local to me, although this year was my first time attending.

And you know what? ConFusion was a hell of a lot of fun. I arrived there at 9 a.m., spent the day in readings, Q&As, and milling about, getting books signed. I left after the 5 p.m. autograph session to return home to my wife and son (she had broken her foot, and he's been teething ferociously, so many, many thanks to them for letting me have a me-day). I learned, first-hand, what con crud feels like, arriving home bleary eyed, hungry, and in need of a shower from hanging out with a thousand-plus readers and writers. 

While I was having fun, all around the world women, and men supportive of the cause, were marching in solidarity against Trump in the Women's March on Washington. I followed the hashtag and some of the other authors I follow who were partaking in the march, and my heart was happy at the sight of what quickly became the largest act of protest in American history. According to a report at the New York Times, attendance for the march was three times larger than for Trump's sparsely-attended inauguration (a fact that shouldn't surprise anyone, since he lost the popular vote by nearly 3 million votes), which was more than enough to put a big smile on my face. Trump would take to the airwaves, using his first full day in office, to condemn the media for accurately reporting on the sparse turnout for his inauguration, and then unleashed his press secretary to scold and lie to the media, so anything that helped get under his thin, orange skin was something to be applauded.

Given the state of our nation, inside ConFusion John Scalzi joked that his upcoming release, The Collapsing Empire, was either the best-timed, or perhaps worst-timed, book title of his career. He read from Chapter Two of this book, and it was pretty damn amusing. I recently received a NetGalley ARC and am looking forward to diving into it soon. There's a few books ahead of it, but based on Scalzi's reading, it's going to be a grand old time for this little bookworm. He confirmed that the naming conventions of his spaceships are in honor of Iain M. Banks, so fans of the Culture books have a little extra to look forward to. There was also a wonderful amount of swearing by his potty-mouthed, ass-kicking heroine, which I always appreciate, and Scalzi recently received positive reviews from Kirkus and Publisher's Weekly, so I'm certainly expecting great things. Congrats, John!

Joining Scalzi for the reading panel was Joe Hill, who read from The Fireman, a book I read and enjoyed last year, and even ordered a signed copy of. He and Scalzi argued over guitarists, which culminated in a pillow fight (which I made to sure record!) at the start of the panel. From there, they read, joked, and argued over Star Wars, Marvel movies, and music. It was such a good time, and helped set my expectations for the rest of the day.

For the mid-part of the day, I hung out with Shay VanZwoll, my editor on Extinction Cycle: From the Ashes (A Kindle Worlds Novella), and got to meet her husband. Shay's been attending ConFusion for good number of years, and she introduced to me a few people, including author Ferret Steinmetz, who wrote the 'Mancer trilogy and has a new book, The Uploaded, due out in September. He told us a bit about this forthcoming release, and it's sounds superb. Shay and I pre-ordered it soon afterward. You can read a bit about it over at Barnes & Noble Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog.

Over the course of the day, I also got to meet Delilah S. Dawson (who writes The Shadow books as Lila Bowen), during a kaffeeklatsch she hosted for writers and attendees new to ConFusion. It was a lot of fun to pick her brain and hear her thoughts on the state of writing these days. I also got to meet some local indie authors, and authors-to-be (Hi, KC!) 

Later in the day, I attended Mallory O'Meara's Q&A. As ConFusion's Media Guest of Honor, O'Meara was on hand to discuss her role as producer for the upcoming puppet film, Yamasong: March of the Hollows. I missed the special sizzle reel screening at 9 p.m., but from what I've seen online it's a pretty intriguing project with some great star power behind it (Nathan Fillion, Malcolm McDowell, Abigail Breslin, Whoopi Goldberg, George Takei). The poster is pretty awesome, and I was able to get an autographed copy from Mallory.

In terms of autographs, I did pretty well for myself, I think. Joe Hill signed the first three volumes of Locke & Key, which I had brought with me. I bought paperback copies of Ferret's trilogy (these look terrific in print, done up in matte black covers; sexy stuff!), as well as Michael Underwood's Genrenauts: The Complete Season One Collection - also a terrific looking paperback. I also got the first two books by Patrick S. Tomlinson, The Ark and Trident's Forge. 

Angry Robot Books has been one of my favorite SFF publishers over the last few years, and it was great to see them have such a strong presence in terms of author showing. In addition to Underwood, Tomlinson, and Steinmetz, Kameron Hurley and Adam Rakunas were on hand to sign books and discuss their works. My biggest regret was not being able to fit in one of the panels attended by Sarah Gailey, particularly her reading from the upcoming River of Teeth from Tor Books. I'm desperate to read that book, and with its focus on killer hippos and mercenaries how could I not be? I did get a nice little card advertising the book and showcasing the brilliant cover art, though, so not a total loss. From what I hear, it was a pretty impressive reading. 

I'd say my first ConFusion, and, in fact, my very first convention ever, was a success. I had a lot of fun, got to meet some cool people, and spend worthwhile time with authors, readers, and fans. Given the political reality outside ConFusion, spending time with a community of fans and writers provided a much-needed break from the world, as well as a good dose of sanity. I left ConFusion looking forward, already, to the 2018 gathering. I'm looking forward to diving back into this particular brand of crazy!