#she gives us an impossible amount of work to do all by ourselves throughout the week

[fandomfluffandfuck]

You ever have one of those professors where you're just like... how? How are you,, employed? Y'know, as an instructor. A teacher. Someone who is supposed to teach. How did you get here because, in the least mean way I can possibly say it, so fucking bad at your job?

[mha-platonic-yanderes]

Settling In: Parentals

Inspired by @i-cant-sing and their Yandere Todoroki Clan AU

The room is pink. Well, it’s mostly pink. It’s pink with white furniture and embellishments. The closet doors are white and so is the windowsill. The floor is hardwood brown. But everything else is a bubblegum pink.

You’d prefer another color, one that wasn’t so bright and grating to the eyes. But you don’t say that. You just fiddle with your one dufflebag’s handle. This is all you have left, after bouncing around from group home to group home. A year ago—when your parents died—you had thrice as much. Now this and the backpack for schoolwork is all you have left.

“Do you like it?” The mother of this house and wife to the current number one hero, asks you a question. He’s not here; nobody’s here except you two. The house seems too big for three people, but there are pictures on the wall of others. It doesn’t look lived in; there is no semblance of a family. Though, the pictures on the wall show a six person family. It shows that there are four more people here and you get your own room. In a house with now seven people, you get your own room and you aren’t giving it up.

Despite the pink color and the vast emptiness, you answer honestly, “Yeah, I do.” You do like it, even if it's not for the right reasons

Her hands are on your shoulder. You can feel the increased pressure on one side lift up, almost as if she’d been purposefully holding onto you too tight.

“Good. Now, let’s unpack.” She gracefully takes the bag out of your hand, setting it atop the bed. You sit down alongside it, opening your backpack. A couple of notebooks, pencils, and two textbooks sit inside.

You start to stand, heading to take the materials to the desk they’ve provided. Though, whilst holding a pair of pajamas—slightly too little but in [y/f/c]—she takes the books out of your hand.

“Just relax, [Y/N].” Rei replies, “Let me handle it.”

You sit on the bed twiddling with your blouse’s edge. You wore your best outfit, even though it was just your school uniform, without the frumpy sweater. 

The bed is insanely soft. With satin sheets, a thick, fluffy comforter, and a healthy amount of pillows, it's easily the softest place you’ve been.

“I’ll have a driver return your school books back to your former school.” Rei replies, on the other side of the room. You shift to look at her, but she has her back turned to you. “I’ll discuss with my husband what school to place you at.”

“Alright.” You’ve had to transfer schools about three times since last year. Moving again isn’t a hassle anymore. You know not to hope you won’t move again. Though. you know not to get attached to anything in case you have to—in case this doesn’t work out.

“We’ll get you a better education than the one you were definitely receiving.” You can hear the gentle thump of one of your textbooks. She heads back to your duffle bag; it’s now half empty. “My eldest three all went to Somei Private Academy for junior high. Two ended up continuing through highschool as well. My eldest went to Shiketsu and my youngest is in Yuuei now.”

You know those schools. They’re expensive, private academies. You’ve only ever been in public schools. The wealth was obvious when you were picked up in a blackened car with a driver. You just didn’t expect them to spend that money on you, a lowly orphan.

“Or we’ll just hire a set of tutors like we did for our youngest before he went to Yuuei.” She decides what to hang up or fold. You’ll have to go through it all later to find everything. Luckily, you don’t own much—or unluckily, depends on how you look at it. But you don’t dwell on the issue long, responding quickly to the lady, “Alright.”

She smiles at you. It’s sincere, motherly. It’s what your mother would’ve done, before the accident. It’s something you sorely missed since then.

“You’re extremely agreeable, aren’t you?” She finishes out the bag, pressing it into the top of your closet. Your backpack gets sat beside the desk. This room is large and your things are set in its appropriate places across from it. 

“I guess.”

“That’s a good thing, darling.” She goes to mess with your hair, “Now, for dinner tonight, let's change you into something a bit nicer, yes?”

You pause, looking at your toes in their pristine white socks. You can see her legs as well, considering how close she is to you, “This is the nicest thing I own.”

“That’s fine. We’ll just have to go shopping for some new things.” Rei replies, taking her other hand to your chin, forcing you to look her in the eyes, “Enji and I know what we are getting ourselves into, buying you a whole new wardrobe will be nothing.”

She takes her hands from your head and into your hands, helping you up.

“Where are we going?” She leads you back from your room to the rest of the house.

“Shopping, darling.” Rei replies, “We have five hours to do so, before I must start dinner, that is. Is there anything you want?”

“No, not really.” She’s already planning to drop a substantial amount of money on you and she’s already being incredibly maternal. You aren’t going to stretch that patience thin and have her snap already. You aren’t going to ruin this for yourself.

She smiles at you, “I’ll figure out what you like soon enough.”

===

The shopping mall standing in front of you was not where you usually would’ve gone. A basic department store, maybe a strip mall if you’re lucky would be where you usually shopped. This place however, is at least four stories high standing stark white and black against the almost colorless blue-grey sky. Though, you don’t get to admire it long. Rei quickly pulls you out of the cold outdoors and into the perfectly heated building.

“Now, I say we head to clothing stores first and then to more home goods type stores, so we don’t have to pack the heavy stuff around. Though, if we get too much to carry, we can send it back to the car and then continue shopping.” Rei replies, “Is that alright?”

You nod, still reluctantly going along this whole situation. The car is actually a limo and you have your own room in a massive estate. You have an impossibly nice and maternal caretaker who’s insanely rich. This is your “Annie” moment; this is your fairytale scenario. The shoe has to drop at some point. You aren’t going to be blindsided when it does.

“Good.” She locks arms with you, holding you close. It’s weird, but not entirely uncomfortable. You want to trust her. Your sense of judgement is clouded, knowing that she can’t really be this nice, but you want her to be like this

She leads you into a clothing store, taking you to the brightly colored section. Rei silently holds a peach colored sweater up to you. She grabs an orange skirt, looking at them both together.

“What do you think of this?” She asks, holding them up together. The sweater is thick, 

assumedly warm. The skirt however, isn’t,. You tell her that.

“That’s what some white stockings are for [y/n].” She laughs lightly, “and please call me Rei. You don’t have to be so formal.”

“Alright... Rei.” Acclimating to her is easy. At the moment, you don’t care what the rest of her family is like, she’s nice and maternal and everything you miss from your own mother.

She grabs multiple sweater and skirt combinations, not grabbing a single pair of pants for you. This store doesn’t sell tee shirts or blouses, sticking to a younger, but put together catalog. You briefly entertain the idea of them being traditionalists, but you don’t mind that. You’ve lived in worse houses than one with conservative ideals.

And besides, the outfits are cute. You hope you can keep them if everything goes south.

“Put these on.” She hands you the clothing, “and I want to see every outfit you try on. I want to see if it looks good.”

The fitting rooms are nicer than any you’ve ever been to. When checking the price of the items she’s handed to you, you can see why. The least expensive thing is a 10,000 yen skirt. It’s plain blue, just like the 1,500 yen one you have on now. It's obviously of higher quality, but guilt pangs in your chest at the thought of her spending so much money on you. This is at least a dozen items in here.

You slip it on, alongside the white sweater, filled with gold stars. You look at yourself in the mirror, before heading out the door. Rei sits in a chair, looking at you.

“You look absolutely adorable.” Rei comments, “We’re keeping it.”

She doesn’t let you put your input in. But she’s paying for it, so you don’t complain.

Five more times, you come out in sweater and skirt combinations. She has nothing but praise for each outfit. It’s refreshing. Your last home was less than pleasant.

Rei leaves you to change back into your uniform. All six outfits are bought and placed into two bags, both on her arm away from you. She wraps her other arm into the crook of your arm.

“Onto the next store we go.”

As you all head to a different floor of the mall, you voice concerns you originally had back in the dressing room, “You know… you don’t have to spend so much money on me.” You tell her, then backtrack, “Not that I’m not grateful! I am really! It’s just that I don’t need stuff this fancy, you know?”

“[Y/N], I am your mother now. It’s my duty to get you clothes and stuff.” She says it with a certainty that is oddly comforting. Everything about her is that way, from her soft, smooth skin to her warm, grey eyes to her bright, white smile. She’s intensely maternal, something that you didn’t realize you wanted anymore, until today, “and we must keep you up to the Todoroki standard. After all, you’re going to be one of us for now on.”

Being one of them. You don’t know of any Todorokis; you’ve never been a huge fan of heroes like some of your peers. But belonging, that’s something you’ve craved since it was ripped away from you. A family—that’s what you’ve always wanted.

“All right.” 

“Chin up, shoulders back.” She tells you, “You’re new life begins tonight.”

===

Rei never let you carry a single bag throughout your trip. She also wouldn’t let you see any of the receipts or let you have a final word on anything you got. But, you got all nice things—all things you like. So, you don’t mind.

“Change into the white dress with the red and pink roses.” She instructs, “And redo your hair. First impressions are important, after all.”

You haven’t met her husband, nor any of her children. But, as the pictures on the wall show, her husband is Endeavor, the number one hero. Usually you’d meet the person fostering you beforehand, but with his affluence, there needed to be no meetings beforehand. 

Following her instructions, you rifle through the bags, finding the dress she wanted you to wear. Slipping out of your old clothes and into the cold, expensive dress is a quick process. Doing your hair to a standard that would make her proud, is not. Eventually you get it right. 

Unlike earlier, you take the time to unbag your stuff. You mimic what Rei did in your closet. Shirts, sweaters and dresses are hung up. Skirts, leggings, and stockings are folded in the dresser. The shoes are placed on the inside of your closet. The few decorations you got are placed so that they don’t move what Rei and her husband already got you. She’s extremely peculiar about order. You won’t break that order.

“[Y/N].” She knocks on the door that doesn’t lock, “What’s taking you so long. Do you need help?”

You open the door for her, “I was just putting everything away, Rei.”

She comes in, looking at the room. She pulls the draws out and reopens the closet door, looking inside them. It’s an inspection, to see if everything is up to code.

Rei pinches your cheek, “ It’s perfect, exactly how I imagined it.”

Perfect. She’s praising your work. The word warms your heart, bringing a smile to your face. You haven’t gotten enough praise in your life, clearly.

“Thank you.”

“Now come on.” She tugs at your wrist, “Enji will be here any moment and I need help plating the table. Usually Fuyumi would do it, but you’ll meet my other children at a later date. Tonight is just about you, me, and Enji.”

“Alright.” Relief settles from your scrunched up soldiers. You only have to meet one new person, not five like you assumed. One person is better than five people—even if he is the #1 Hero. 

You’re led back through the sitting room and into the dining room. It’s nice, well lit. It’s low to the ground and cushioned. You’ve expected this from this house. Every room besides your own is extremely traditional. You expected the whole house to be like this, once you walked through the doors.

“The plates and cups are in the left cabinet, do be careful with them.” Rei points to a side room, at the back of the dining room, “I’ll bring in the cutlery. Enji should be here soon.”

As if on cue, you hear the front door being opened. A low voice calls out, “Rei, darling? [Y/N]?”

You freeze, plates and cups in hand. Something about the number one hero calling out of your name unsettles you. Though, somehow immediately aware of your apprehension, Rei places a cold hand against your back. You can feel it through the dress, which isn’t surprising, considering how thin it is.

“We’re in the dining room, honey.” Rei takes the plates and cups from your hands, placing them down and simultaneously leading you to your seat. You sit, legs together and bent to the side. You sit currently in the seat to the left of the table’s end. 

The number one hero—Rei’s husband—kisses her cheek. He towers over her. She was waiting for him at the entrance. You try not to make any noise; you try not to interrupt them.

She heads to the seat across from you, leaving Endeavor to sit at the head of the table. You aren’t surprised; this family gives of very traditional vibes. He radiates heat to your right, still aflame, showing off his powerful quirk.

The food is already on the table. It’s more than enough for the three people here, possibly more than enough for the six people in the photos—plus yourself. You make your own plate, only getting what you know you’ll eat. You don’t want to take too much, you don’t want to be greedy. 

“Make sure you actually get full, [Y/N].” Rei smiles at you. It’s warm and soft.

“I am, Miss.” You can feel Endeavor staring at you, but you don’t look at him. You shift your head down, looking at the plate in front of you. You don’t grab more; you don’t want to ruin their hospitality with your selfishness.

Rei and Endeavor talk to themselves, mostly about work. They occasionally talk about three other people—Shoto, Fuyumi, and Natsuo. There are four children in the photos on the wall; it’s a family of six. Though, you don’t ask about the unnamed child, it isn’t your place to do so.

You finish your food fairly quickly, but so do the other two. You look up at Endeavor for the first time tonight, asking, “Can I be excused, sir.”

“No.” He replies, “We have things to discuss.”

“Oh… alright.” You fiddle with the hem of your dress underneath the table, “What do you want to discuss, sir?”

“I’ll take the dirty dishes and excess food.” Rei smiles at you, “You’ll be fine, [Y/N]. Pass me your plate.”

Endeavor waits for Rei to leave to start talking. You are acutely aware of how hot it is now, without Rei’s cooling, calming effect.

“How was your day today?” He starts the conversation off decently well. You look him in the eye, “Good.” You were taught manners growing up; you know how to hold a conversation, no matter how intimidating the person you’re talking to is.

“That is a pretty dress on you, [Y/N].”

“Thank you.”

“Now then. While you are here, there shall be rules you will follow. Rei and I have devised a fair list and she’ll go over them with you extensively in the morning.” He tells you, “Though, the ones concerning you tonight are: no technology post-dinner and that you shall be in bed by ten o’clock. Rei shall wake you up at seven am tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Those aren’t too harsh rules; other homes have had worst lists. Though, you won’t make a final decision on that until tomorrow. You tentatively ask another question, “Uhhh, sir. Rei mentioned other children. If you don’t mind me asking, where are they?”

“Shoto goes to U.A. They have dorms now and are forced to stay there. Fuyumi and Natsuo have since moved out, but visit occasionally. You’ll meet them when it is appropriate.” Endeavor tells you, “And [Y/N], call me Enji. You are now dismissed.” 

“Alright, Enji.” As you stand to leave, you use his name, “Thank you.”

[interact-if]

I’m sending this in because it seems like I could get good opinions from not only you but also the people who follow you. I have an idea for an IF, and I’m very excited for the story. My question is, would people be offended if I made the playable MC physically female that identifies as female and all the ROs physically male that identify as male? I have seen some out there that are strictly M/M or F/F, and I’m so happy they exist because I feel that population is underserved. I just feel, not having the experience, I could bring justice to writing LGBTQ+ (and I don’t want to offend anyone in that community by writing something incorrect), mostly when it comes to sex (which I plan on including in my game). I support games that have those relationships in them and admire them, even play those games, and I don’t care who plays my game. The more the merrier! I still want the characters to be diverse. One of them will be of a descent that is based on Japanese culture and many others, based on Persian culture. I also want the playable MC to have any skin tone/features the player wants. I just want to know if this…will have people coming after me? I want to tell my story, but I don’t want to be attacked for it, if that makes sense?

I really don’t mean to offend anyone. I just don’t want to cause trouble, and I just want to respectfully ask for people’s opinions on this.

Hello! So, before diving into our response, we’d like to emphasize that we are but five individuals running a blog devoted to interactive fiction. We are neither the end-all-be-all voice on this matter nor necessarily a representative mouthpiece for the community.

First off, you can write whatever you would like to write; as the author, you have absolute control over what you produce, so nobody is going to stop you from writing what you want to write. It’s also important to write what you enjoy.

That said, the community is, in our experience, very inclusive, and largely devoted to providing a space for the queer community. We can understand the desire to have an appropriately inclusive and diverse game, and why you particularly want to turn to characters of color to bridge the gap; however, substituting characters of color for queer characters to claim diversity in a project is possibly something that will receive the wrong kind of attention. Furthermore, assuming that writing characters of color well is any less complex than writing queer characters potentially suggests that said characters could end up underdeveloped or tokenized. (See Nines' and Roast’s response below for more context)

All of that doesn’t mean you can’t make a game that’s genderlocked and restricted to M/F romance, and I don’t think anyone will be offended by such a game, but it might limit your audience. At the same time, there are (many) other visual novels that have this format, so it’s not something unheard of. As far as CoGs and text-based games go, as far as we’ve seen, they are rarely genderlocked unless for plot reasons, etc.

There is also a chance that you may receive feedback requesting that the MC be un-gender locked, or for additional ROs to be added of different gender, or for the ROs to be made gender selectable. These requests may be gentle, insistent, kind, or aggressive, and they may only occur at the beginning of your work, or may occur throughout your game development. Maybe they’ll never happen at all. It’s impossible to predict the future, but in our experience, we have often seen this occur to games in the past with RO gender imbalances, locks, etc.

As for searching for feedback, if you’re looking for feedback but you’re not pursuing the CoG format, may we suggest the Reddit subforum? It’s a little difficult for you to get the feedback/dialogue going here that you’d likely like to get, so Reddit’s format may be more conducive to your needs.

In the meanwhile, those who would like to provide their thoughts are encouraged to respond in the comments of this post. Please remember to be polite with your discussion!

— — —

The above is our general mod response; a few of us wanted to offer some individual thoughts as well, and those can be found below. These are personal opinions and reflect each individual mod’s thoughts, rather than a collective response.

While it can be a little daunting to write about something you’re not familiar with, writing often broaches topics with which we don’t personally have first-hand experience. Additionally, queer relationships are ultimately still relationships between people—they’re not all that different from heterosexual relationships. If you’re worried about the way you’re portraying your content, that’s something well-curated beta readers/testers (from the population you’re trying to represent) can help test for, and give feedback on. And on top of all of the above, that’s not to mention the potential issues associated with substituting in POC to replace queer people, which is perhaps not what your intention is, but is what it feels like your intention is (see Roast and Nines for all the ins and outs on why this is an issue). Ultimately, I stand by the opinion that on the most basic level, most will not be offended by a game that’s about a straight, cisgender female MC—yet some, or even many, may be off-put by such a game. I know I, personally, am. (P. S. Also consider that the MC has to interact with the other ROs that she isn’t romancing, as friends, enemies, acquaintances, what have you—having selectable ROs, for example, also allows the player to “diversify” their acquaintance group, if they so wish.) — Dani

I understand that this ask is coming from well-meaning intent but I would just like to state that writing characters of color is not easier than writing queer characters. One of them isn't a substitute for the other. Writing characters of color and writing queer characters are separate matters entirely, and both come with its own difficulties. Wanting your characters to be diverse, while admittedly lacking the perspective to back such identities, is still a murky water to navigate.

Personally speaking, and I really do have to be transparent about this, the way certain sentences were phrased in this ask rubbed me the wrong way. Still, I understand that this isn't malicious, just someone who is asking for guidance, which is something I can't fault. We all have to start somewhere, you know? That being said, if you really want to write diverse characters, my general advice is to do research. Lots and lots and lots of research. No author is exempt from that, honestly.

Find helpful articles, journals, studies, video essays, etc. to aid you in writing your characters. If you still feel like that's lacking in some way, which is a valid concern, being open to feedback from the appropriate people is also a good way to improve. The integrity of a project is important, but so is reasonable criticism against, for, or about it. Keep an open mind, educate yourself, and don't be afraid to ask for help or clarification should it be needed. — Nines

Nines says it well that queer people and poc are not interchangeable nor any 'easier' than the other. The fact that you're willing to do research and include characters of color yet not include queer characters tells me that you're afraid yet misconstruing how much effort actually gets put into cultural research.

There is a 'purity culture' that goes around tumblr that claims that diverse characters have to be perfect, have to have no flaws, cannot die, cannot have trauma, cannot face adversity, they must be perfect and good and happy.

I think this is bullshit.

I also think the backlash from this 'purity culture' community is what is creating so much fear in authors (including queer authors!!) in making characters with different backgrounds and identities than their own. In making queer characters with flaws and tragedy and negative characteristics.

If we only ever wrote what we knew, what we've personally experienced, fiction would be a very boring world.

Being afraid of representing a community wrong is a valid fear, but it shouldn't stop you from trying. You can write what you want to write, but it shouldn't be limited by fear.

Do your research. Get sensitivity readers. Be open to feedback. Be willing to be afraid, but do it anyway.

If, in the end, you decide to gender lock, make it an informed decision at the very least, and if you are including characters of color, know that that is a heavy amount of research too, and should be handled with the same care as what we've said on queer characters.

And like we've said before, we are not the voice of the community, we cannot give you permission or our blessing or flawless feedback, we are just five people running a blog. — Roast

Alright this was already mentioned a bit before but I wish to add my two cents: M/F relationships are the norm anywhere else in real life, and if you feel like there's no space for you and your relationships in a mostly-queer community then you might want to recheck if this is the community you wish to have as your target audience.

No one's going to be offended if your story is cishet, as we said, but you are extremely reducing your audience by doing such. The appeal of interactive fiction is that a good bunch of us have played female-mc-straight-love-interest visual novels in the past, having to endure being misgendered or romancing people we might not be attracted to.

The current interactive fiction community we're trying to promote has opened a million doors for everyone to explore themselves, so don't be surprised if your story, no matter how good, is ignored due to this aspect. Most of us have no interest in being forced to play as something we're not.

Again, we cannot tell you what you can or cannot do. We don't speak for the community, we speak for ourselves and for this blog. Maybe every comment we've made was incorrect and your game turns out to be successful, really, but it's what we believe you should keep in mind. — Cruz

Honestly, I don’t have much to add since everyone here mentioned and discussed important facets of this ask! At the end of the day, we are not a group who can or will ever dictate what you can or cannot write. That is not the purpose of the blog or the reason why we’re working as hard as we are. 

There have always been games with this specific set of characteristics: gender locked MCs and/or ROs. Some people may enjoy it, others may not, for whatever reason. 

Unfortunately, we cannot guarantee anything in terms of how people will respond to a game, because people will react to content differently. All we can do is offer our perspective and the potential things that may happen in the future based on the experience the lovely devs above have had. (fellow interact-if mods, my beloved ❤️)

It’s always admirable for people to reach out when they’re unsure, and I’m sure there are infinitely more opinions that vary or are similar to the ones in this response. But there you have it, some of our thoughts! 

Goodluck with your project! — Mars

[aperrywilliams]

Couvade  (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: The team having weeks full of work, traveling across the country. Tiredness is taking its toll on Reader and Spencer.

Word Count: 3747.

Warnings: References to headaches, stomachaches, and another “aches” as well. Couple discussions. Spencer losing his temper. Spencer and Reader clueless. But fluffy in the end.

A/N: Work has drained all my energy these last few weeks. Something from our favorite doctor to get me back.

——————–

In recent months the cases that were coming to the BAU were a true roller coaster in many ways: some simpler, others tremendously difficult and rough. Some local others far across the country.

With all this turmoil, there wasn't much time left for personal life. My advantage, if I had to compare myself to my colleagues, was that my boyfriend worked with me and at least we could see each other a few moments a day and spend some time together on the jet traveling from one place to another.

I think Spencer also saw it as an advantage, even though as the weeks went by following this same rhythm he was much more irritable and angry than usual. Not that Spencer is an irritable man by definition, quite the contrary, but the work’ stress was taking its toll on us and he was no exception.

One of the few mornings we were able to be quiet in the BAU offices, I approached his desk. It caught my attention that he had the palms of his hands covering his mouth.

“Spencer, ¿what’s wrong?”. Looking at him, I saw that he was paler than usual.

“Nothing , I'm fine. I just feel a little nauseous. Apparently the muffin for breakfast made my stomach funny”, he lamented.

“Baby , I'm sorry. I should have asked when it was made when I bought it,” I tried to apologize.

“It's not your fault. It may be that my stomach is more fussy than usual,” he said with a sigh. Sigh that was apparently interrupted by another nausea. In two seconds Spencer was on her feet running towards the bathroom.

Not that Spencer is a tremendously healthy person, but it was rare to see him sick, except for his headaches and his periods of insomnia, which we were both used to living with from time to time. But this was different. Spencer rarely caught a cold or had stomach problems, even given all the coffee and sugar she consumed daily.

In general, when men feel sick they are like children . And in Spencer Reid that was increased by three. Thus, throughout that day I was concerned with checking his condition, preparing herbal tea and doing everything possible to prevent him from drinking coffee. When we got to the apartment that we had shared for more than a year, I made sure to make soup for him and send him to bed early.

In the following days his stomach discomfort began to disappear. A relief, because my genius boyfriend was unbearable during all those days, so much that we argued about almost anything. I also felt irritable and overwhelmed by the amount of work we had, and besides having to take care of Spencer .

Another case, another trip. On the jet on the way to San Francisco, and after reviewing details of the case, I went to sit next to Spencer. I wanted to apologize for our last discussion that morning. When I got closer he was reading a book, but I knew he wasn't really reading since the pages weren't turning. I was sure he was attentive to how I approached his side.

“Spencer... baby...,” I said in the softest and most tender voice I could. I did not get an answer. “Spencer ... can you look at me please?”. The second call was less friendly. He raised his eyes to look at me.

“I'm looking at you (Y/N),” he replied with a bored expression that began to annoy me and even regret wanting to apologize.

“Thank you. Can you close your book too? I need to talk to you”. Not very enthusiastically he shut the book and put it to the side of the seat.

“Done. What do you want to talk about?”. Same look and same voice. I didn't want to be upset with him, but he was making it difficult for me. I took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I want to apologize for our discussion this morning. I know I said not very kind things to you. None of that was truth, you have to believe me. It's just that I also feel overwhelmed by everything and I understand that you are tired, but I am too and you know that I say things without thinking when I am like this…”. His gaze softened when he saw that I was genuine and tears even started to come out of me without my meaning to. He sighed and extended his arms for me to snuggle with him, which I did immediately burying my face into his chest.

“I must also apologize. I didn't react in the best way either. I yelled at you and that's not right. I also feel overwhelmed and tired, more than usual. Being sick last week didn't help me much either… ”. He hugged me tight so I felt his words were sincere.

“I'm sorry. I hope this job’s rhythm drops in the next few days, I don't want to live fighting with you”. I said giving him a soft kiss on his chin and drying my tears.

“I don’t want that either. In fact, I think we should take a few days off, just for us. At this point I am having a hard time separating work’s moments from our private’s moments,” he stated.

Spencer was right. What seemed to be positive also had its bad side: Which was the real boundary between the professional and the personal? We always tried our relationship wasn’t a problem for our job, but it was also important to do the reverse exercise: our job shouldn't be a problem for our relationship either.

All this time that we had been on this beat - more than 10 weeks and counting – we had no enough time to spend together like a real couple. The last time we had sex was before Spencer got sick and it was a quicky in my hotel room during a case in Denver. And before that, I don’t even remember well.

I hadn't felt very good either. Going from place to place around the country had me dizzy most of the time and with headaches for weeks. Of course, none of that managed to incapacitate me at work, so I didn’t take it seriously and didn’t tell anyone about it . I also had a few days with stomach pain and nausea, which I explained by the poor diet we were having between so much travel. After a few weeks I began to feel better from these discomforts, but irritability and tiredness continued.

I was still cuddling with Spencer when I felt him whine shifting for a more comfortable position into the seat.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?,” I asked lifting my head to look at him.

“Since yesterday I have a back pain that is killing me. (Y/N), I still have some years to go to turn 40 and I already feel like an old man!,” he complained.

“We haven't slept well either. Hotel beds are not the best. I have also had back pain some weeks ago. But I think I'm used to that and it doesn't hurt so much anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m complaining about my pain and you too haven't felt well lately. I'm failing miserable as a boyfriend”. He gave me a kiss on the forehead, hugging me tight again.

“I didn't want to worry you with those things. I know how you get when something happens to me, surely you would have insisted on me taking a leave. And it's not a big deal. The worst is the tiredness and the bad mood, besides that I feel that my body weighs on me. I gained weight grossly. I look awful,” I said, pouting.

“Of course you’re not. You look beautiful. Tired… but beautiful”. He took my chin and gave me a soft kiss on my lips.

“You say it just to not make me feel bad,” I replied when we pulled away.

“(Y/N), I mean it. You know I like everything about you,” Spencer replied as he stroked my back and rested his chin on my head. How I missed those moments with Spencer, even though I wish they weren't on the jet on their way to a case.

The San Francisco case was terrible. We were in the fifth day and couldn't identify the unsub yet. We were sleeping very little and badly. We couldn't even agree between ourselves on the profile, which triggered a heated discussion with Spencer while we were in the meeting room we had been assigned to work. The worst thing was having this argument in front of the whole team.

“You are not seeing the obvious (Y/N), it’s impossible this can be done by a single person. There aren't any hints of that in the evidence”. Spencer spat as he pointed to the board with the notes and photos we had.

“Are you saying I don't know how to do my job? I am seeing the same evidence as you, but you are so obsessed with your theory that you are not able to think of other possibilities”, I replied back.

“Obsessed? Oh no, no. The only one obsessed with a theory here is you. You have not put any evidence of what you are saying!”

“Don’t say that. Look at this board! What do all these photos tell you? Why couldn't it be a single person with a psychotic break? Can't you see the pattern? I began to despair and inadvertently tears I couldn’t control began to fall. That upset Spencer even more.

“Your crying isn’t going to convince me of this stupid theory (Y/N)!,” he shot almost making my heart shatter. Watching the exchange grow increasingly rough, Prentiss finally intervened.

“Reid! Enough!,” she said seeing how I couldn't control my tears and my hands started to shake. At the wake-up call, Spencer fell silent and realized my state. I started to feel dizzy. He tried to grab my arm and I avoided him.

“Don’t touch me!,” I yelled at him, as I headed straight to leave the room, but the dizziness intensified and I fell to the floor losing consciousness.

***

I managed to grab (Y/N)'s head before it hit the floor. At that moment I realized that I had lost my temper and had pushed (Y/N) to the limit. JJ immediately came over to help me. We checked the pulse and checked for any injuries. Meanwhile, Rossi went in search of the paramedics.

I felt a lump in my throat. Suddenly the nausea returned. I couldn't help myself and ran to the bathroom. I was cursing myself for not being able to control myself. My girlfriend had passed out because of me and I couldn't even be with her because I felt sick again.

When I came out of the bathroom I was intercepted by Emily in the hallway. She told me that (Y/N) had regained consciousness but they would take her to the hospital for a check-up anyway. I just wanted to go with her.

“JJ went with her and the paramedics. I'll let you go with her, but first tell me what's going on between you both. You two have been between fights and reconciliations for weeks. Your mood is a roller coaster, we no longer know what happens to you. I understand that we are all tired of this rhythm, but in you guys it seems like something unbearable! Are you okay? Can you tell me Spencer…”. Emily was right. We had weeks between discussions and mutual apologies. Now, I couldn't find a mildly convincing reason for the situation.

“I honestly don't know. I don't know what happens to us. Until a few weeks ago everything was fine and now… I don't know. I can't control myself. There are days when I feel tired, jaded. Others where everything seems normal. I have felt sick more often. I can't even stand myself sometimes,” I said scratching my head.

“Whatever it’s, I think you need to talk. This kind of outburst can't happen again, Spencer. Now go with her”

“Are you sure?... what about the case?...” I asked.

“Unbelievably, your argument gave us a clue. Rossi, Luke, and Tara are analyzing it now. So don't worry about the case, go. Talk to (Y/N)”. I nodded and ran to the hospital.

***

When I regained consciousness I was still in the meeting room, JJ was holding my head and a paramedic was checking my vitals. I felt embarrassed. I wanted to get up but JJ wouldn't let me. She told me that they would take me to the hospital to check me up even though I had already regained consciousness. I just shrugged. I didn’t know why so much commotion, for me it was just fatigue and the anger of the moment. Anger that still ran through my body, because I didn't even want to ask where Spencer was.

At the hospital a nurse came to my room and asked JJ leave the room for a moment. Then she took blood samples from me, measured my blood pressure, among other things. When she was doing that she asked me what happened. The nurse asked me too about my health in the previous weeks and I told her about my back pain, bloating, headaches, nausea and dizziness. She just nodded and told me that we should wait for the tests to rule out things and conclude if it was only fatigue and stress that triggered my fainting. Then she left the room and JJ came in again.

“What did she tell you?,” JJ asked me.

“Nothing yet. She took samples and said we have to wait,” I replied shrugging.

“What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. I guess it's stress. In the last two months we have not had a truce JJ, I don't know how you are still standing…,” I said with a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. We have had very intense weeks lately. But it looks like it hit you and Spencer a lot harder. Are you two okay?”. There was genuine concern in her voice, but honestly I didn't have an explanation beyond the obvious: stress.

“Yes , I guess. I mean, it's true that we've argued more often, but that doesn't change how I feel about Spencer. In the opposite. It's weird what I'm going to say, but I miss him. I mean, I miss our moments together without having to think about work or argue”. I hadn't realized that tears were already coming from my eyes. “Shit JJ, and now I'm crying and I don't know why… I should be mad! He yelled at me in front of everyone and called me stupid!”

“You need to talk about it, (Y/N). I'm sure he didn't mean it”

“He is an idiot, JJ. He is almost more insufferable than me…”. I crossed my arms over my chest frowning just thinking about what happened. And as if it were fate, at that precise moment Spencer Reid made his appearance in the hospital room.

***

I walked into the hospital room and saw (Y/N) on the bed with her arms crossed over her chest talking to JJ. They both looked at me standing in the doorway. I could see (Y/N)’s anger on her face. She had right, I wasn't going to blame her for that. I steeled myself and approached (Y/N). If I had to receive her anger, I was willing to accept it.

“How do you feel?,” I asked. I wanted to take her hand, but she quickly pushed it away.

“Fine”. She didn't even want to look at me. Her eyes fixed on her feet covered by the hospital bed’s sheets. At that moment JJ ​​got up from her chair heading to the door.

“I’ll be outside calling the team. I let you talk for a while”. On leaving JJ closed the door. (Y/N) still didn't look at me.

“(Y/N)… I’m so sorry. Baby, I'm really sorry. I lost control. I don’t know what happened to me. Nothing I said I meant it. (Y/N), you have to believe me, I don't want you to think I don't value your job. That’s not true, you are invaluable to the team. You are an excellent profiler…,” I was looking at her with pleading eyes.

“You yelled at me. You treated me lousy. I don't know what is wrong with you. If you're as overwhelmed as I am, that doesn't give you the right to do what you did either”. She looked up and I could see that she was hurt. That broke my heart.

“I know. I'm sorry. I don’t know what's happening to me these weeks. I would like to give you a better explanation, but I don't have one. I know it’s wrong and I promise I will do whatever it takes to make up to you. I love you, (Y/N). I can’t stand see you hurt because of me”. This time she reached for my hand and squeezed it hard.

“I should hate you Spencer Reid. But I can't…” (Y/N) said shaking her head and huffing. “I guess I must believe you this time. You are not forgiven yet, though,” she warned me. I kissed her hand nodding in agreement. At that moment the doctor entered the room, still checking a folder with many papers.

“Miss (Y/L/N), good afternoon, I’m Dr. Anna Ragger, how are you feeling?”

“Much better now, thank you doctor,” the doctor nodded looking at me. “He is Spencer Reid, my boyfriend,” (Y/N) hastened to explain.

“Ah. Nice to meet you. Well, I have the results from your blood tests.” I was standing next to (Y/N) without releasing her hand.

“Is there something I should be concerned about doctor?”, (Y/N) asked.

“It depends on what you consider to be a concern, but I would say no,” doctor replied with a shy smile on her face. I looked at (Y/N) who had the same confused face as me. Before the doctor could say anything else, I felt my stomach twist again. Dr. Ragger looked at me strangely.

“Is something wrong sir?,” she asked. When my nausea subsided, I was only able to speak.

“I'm fine. I've only been with some stomachaches for a few weeks…,” I mumbled.

“What else did you feel? Fatigue? Headaches? Body aches? Mood changes?,” Dr. Ragger asked. I looked at her in amazement. She had perfectly described my symptoms of the past weeks. (Y/N) was frowning trying to understand what was happening.

“Yeah… ehm… all of them. Well, we've had very difficult weeks at work,” I replied. The doctor tried to hide a smile.

“Have you heard of Couvade syndrome?,” I thought for a few seconds and yes, I knew what it was.

“Yeah. Couvade syndrome is something that happens to men when their partners are pregnant. It emulates the symptoms that women experience during the first trimester of pregnancy,” I explained. The doctor nodded, smiling. (Y/N) dropped her jaw. Dr. Ragger, seeing I had not thought enough about my own words, intervened again.

“That likely explains your symptoms...”

“You mean I have that syndrome? I don't think so, because for that to happen (Y/N) would have to be... oh!”. The realization hit me like a freight train. “Oh!”, I exclaimed and looked at (Y/N) and then turned my eyes again to the doctor. “(Y/N) is...?”

“That's right, Miss (Y/L/N) is pregnant. Congratulations!”.

“Oh my God, are you sure Dr. Ragger?,” (Y/N) asked almost jumping out of bed. I started to feel dizzy. Dr. Ragger noticed my reaction and helped me to sit in the chair where JJ was before leaving the room.

“Yes miss (Y/L/N), your symptoms are consistent with pregnancy, and the blood tests confirmed it. My guess is that you must be in your 10th week of pregnancy, which would explain why your boyfriend would be experiencing similar symptoms. It doesn't happen to all men, of course, but there is always a possibility,” she explained. A little less dizzy I got up from the chair and stand beside (Y/N) holding her hand, still paralyzed. She was astonished yet.

“Well. Now that we are clear about the reasons for your symptoms, you are ready to go home miss (Y/L/N). Talk to your obstetrician about the next steps. Congratulations again,” Dr. Ragger stated before leaving the room.

Once we stayed alone in the room, (Y/N) shook her head in disbelieve. Maybe my face still didn't reflect it, but inside I was burning with happiness. Admittedly, it wasn't something we would have planned, but I was ecstatic at the news. I noticed tears began to roll down (Y/N)'s cheeks. I panicked. Maybe she was not happy with the news.

“Baby, what is it?”

“Spencer... we hadn't planned this. We hadn't even talked about the possibility of having children. And now it's happening... I’m happy, but I don't know if you want this. I can't force you to be with me for that. If you're not comfortable with this, it’s okay, I'll understand... really,” (Y / N) began to cry. I took her cheeks with my hands.

“Hey, look at me. Everything is gonna be okay. We will be okay. I love you so much (Y/N), and that's reason enough for me wanting everything with you. I want to be with you, I want to have children with you. I want you to be my wife. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make me the happiest man in the world, and that is why it hurts when I see you suffer for something I did. Please forgive me for these days that I have put you through...,” I said kissing her forehead. I could feel her body relaxed at my words. She took a deep breath.

“Only if you're willing to forgive me for what I'm going to put you through in the next few months... and the rest of your life, Dr. Reid,” (Y/N) said now with a small smile on her face.

“Fair is fair. I'll face it happily,” I replied laughing. I was so pleased seeing the woman who made me so happy every day smiling again.

“I love you Spencer,” she said in a whisper into my lips before kissing me.

“I love you… both,” I replied when we parted. Both smiling and happy for what the future held for us.

——————–

[secret-ssociety]

Let me down pt.3

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x Reader (platonically), Reader x oc

Warnings: I mean, in my eyes this is pure fluff, but who knows if it will hurt you

Summary: Peter and May have dinner with Y/N’s family, prompting a lot of questions to get an answer.

A/N: oKAY, I know that what happened wasn’t exactly what you expected and and it has taken me so long to write this but it's finally here. I want to thank you all, I never meant for this blow up like it did or to even become a series, honestly when I wrote the first part I was just in a really bad mood and I felt like writing something sad and that came out, but then people started to ask for a second part and well the rest is history. So yeah, I actually want to write even more parts to this so let me know if you would like it. Also, I tagged everyone who asked me to write more to this, but let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist

Masterlist

part one part two

Peter couldn't help but feel like his head was spinning as he walked back home from the metro that night. Claire had sat him down in her bed for almost an hour showing off all of her Avengers stuff. She had a replica of Thor's Mjolnir (and she knew how to pronounce it, which was even more impressing), she had the Spider-Man's Uno she had mentioned (it did make him kind of emotional to see a drawing of him on the package) and she had Iron Man's full suit.

Yeah, he did his best not to cry with the last one.

Even if she hadn’t ran up to you screaming ‘mommy’, he would’ve known that she was your daughter. Claire had your hair, your eyes, your nose, even when the rest of her tiny face was more like Mark’s. The corners of her eyes wrinkled the same way yours did when you smiled and she was as energetic as you, she got lost in her own thoughts just like her you used to do.

He had been counting the seconds to be out of your house and be able to break down on the guardianship of his loneliness, but when he found himself walking down the street after dinner... he just didn't.

Peter had gone to school that day being sure that as soon as he saw you, something would be okay, and even if it hadn't gone according to the plan, he hadn't been wrong. Something was okay: you were okay. You had a career, a good job, a loving husband, a perfect daughter, a beautiful family.

You had a great life and, most importantly, you were willing to welcome him in it, so yeah, maybe things were going to be okay.

So when Claire asked him to dinner with them again at the end of the week, and you said you wanted to say hi to May, he just couldn't refuse. That's how he ended up standing in front of your house again, with May by his side this time, holding a cherry pie they had placed and decorated on a plate as if to pretend they hadn't bought it from the grocery store.

As soon as the door opened, Peter handed the dessert to May, because he was prepared for the moment Claire jumped to his arms to greet him. You smiled openly at May, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes at the sight of the woman who had given you a place to call home everytime you felt like your own house was not it.

Both Peter and Mark noticed how you tried to keep your composure when her arms wrapped you in a warm embrace.

"Sorry, I'm a mess," you muttered in apology, trying to wipe your eyes without messing up your mascara.

"You look beautiful," May corrected, making your eyes wet all over again. "It smells amazing," she said suddenly, changing the subject to give you a chance to calm down, "what are you cooking?"

"Oh, I'm not cooking," you clarified rushing them inside, Peter still carrying the little girl in his arms, "Mark is. I somehow manage to burn the water."

"You could always make PB and jelly sandwiches," Peter said with an amused smile, earning a fond laugh from your lips, as if you shared an inside joke.

Only when Mark received the pie from May's hands did Peter notice that he was wearing a purple apron over his white unbuttoned shirt, and he couldn't help the sting in his heart at how perfect he was. He kindly apologized at the fact that the meat still needed a few more minutes on the oven, because he had been held back a little longer than expected at the office.

"What's that smell?" You asked, frowning.

"Daddy, the aspargaroos!" Claire exclaimed instantly, clearly unaware of how to pronounce asparagus, as she wiggled to let Peter know she wanted to be back on the ground. The tiny human ran behind her father into the kitchen, ready to do the damage control.

You decided to grab a bottle of white wine (and another Capri Sun for Peter) while her husband and daughter tried to resolve the asparagus crisis. He tried to pay attention to the conversation the two women in front of him were maintaining, but it was like they were talking in some foreign, alien, grown up language he couldn't understand.

This time, you took a little longer to finish your glass of wine than the last bottle you had opened, which had been a week ago when Peter had showed up in your doorstep. You were trying your best to hide your excitement talking to May, but you couldn't help the profound feeling of pride that took over your chest when you saw her eyes glimmer with amazement as they explored around the living room, where the pictures and prices of all of your family's accomplishments were displayed.

Peter was the first to notice Mark come out of the kitchen with a sheepish smile, "alright, so, the asparagus isn't salvageable, er, how do you feel about KFC salad?"

That's how they found themselves sitting at the round dinner table eating steak with a mushroom sauce Claired had been the one to think about, roasted potatoes and KFC salad, because apparently the always ordered some extra salad on their takeaways and stuffed them in the fridge.

"So..." May started, eyeing the young couple nervously. "There is so much to talk about. How... you... well..."

"How did I end married and with a kid at twenty three?" You finished for her, saving a sigh to yourself although you felt your husband tense a little beside you. The more you two heard that question, the more annoying it got, even when you knew May didn't mean to offend you.

Of course you knew you were young, and that many people your age couldn't handle such commitments, you didn't need people telling you that constantly. You had heard the same discourse from teachers, employers, even neighbors you had never talked to, it quickly got old and you tried not to become aggressive everytime you heard it.

Mark and you had a happy, healthy marriage, with a wonderful daughter that had brought light into a world as dark as yours was since the blip. You had good jobs that allowed you to have a stable economy and also take care of your family. You were happy, what else mattered? If you wanted opinions or needed help, you would certainly ask for it.

You never once had.

Still, you responded kindly, "well, we met in college, Princeton," you mentioned, earning two proud looks from your guests. "We were in different programs, so we met specifically through a praying group."

"That had never really been my thing," Mark picked up, "praying and all that God related talk bored me, but most of family and friends had been blipped... I was lonely. So I thought maybe I should give it a try."

"I honestly thought he had gone for the food, because when the meeting was over he looked like he hadn't understood a single word."

"Because I hadn't."

"A friend and I decided to come and talk to him, but after she left we hung out a little longer," you tried to hide the cheesy smile that took over your lips, but you looked over at Mark, who hasn't trying to hid his, and couldn't. "I don't know how to explain it, something about that moment just felt" you shrugged shyly "right."

The memories of you staying on the library, hiding behind the stacks of books so that no one would notice you trying to stay inside after it closed and talking the whole night long never failed to raise goosebumps along your skin. He would offer to read for you when your eyes got tired of working with the dim light that entered through the window, even when he was a law major and didn't understand a single word on the neuroscience and robotic books you were always studying.

It was soon after getting to know him, you just knew Mark had been made for you. There was something in the way you could see in his eyes that crowds freaked him out and that he tried not to cry after talking to his mom in the phone, something in the way he understood your whimpers in the days where anything above a mutter was just too much, that you knew this awkwardly tall curious guy was meant to cross your path.

"Things moved pretty fast after that," you continued, hoping you hadn't zoomed out for too long, "like 'we got married eight months after' fast."

May did her best to hide her surprise, while Peter choked on the salad. Was listening to your loving tone as you told the story easy? No, not at all. He wanted to throw up. Peter was still hopelessly in love with you, even when you were now five years older, even when you had a husband and a child, even when it was ridiculous and impossible, because for him it hadn't been years, it just had been months.

"Claire came soon after that," Mark concluded after pouring some more juice on Peter's glass and asking him if he was okay. "And all of this happened throughout college?"

"We had a really good support system," he nodded, smiling down at Claire, who had made a mess over her chicken sandwich. "A really good amount of friends willing to babysit whenever we had to work, understanding teachers who let us bring Claire to our lectures. My mom and Y/N's parents were also a great help."

"We were both on scholarships that gave us some allowances to support ourselves each month, too," you added. "It wasn't much, but it helped."

"And what are you working on now?" May switched to a conversation that would probably be easier on her nephew.

"Well, Mark is an associate on a buffet in Manhattan," you said grabbing your husband's hand. "What's your approach?" Peter asked, somewhat genuinely curious.

"Environmental law," he replied proudly.

"And I-"

"Mommy builds robot limbs!" Claire exclaimed excitedly, prompting a laugh on the others.

"Before I graduated, I got a job as lab assistant on a research for neuro prosthetics," you explained, "and after graduating, they hired me as researcher. Basically what we're trying to do is to create a non-invasive implant we can connect to the brain and spinal cord that controls robotic prosthetics for people who have lost limbs or return movement to paralyzed body sections."

Peter's skin prickled at the description of the research, for it was one he had known before it all went crumbling down. A memory flashed through his eyes, Tony helping his friend walk after he had been injured in Germany, on his first mission.

"That's..."

"A Stark Industries' research, yes," you nodded solemnly.

"Y/N told me you had an internship with Tony Stark before... it all happened," Mark commented carefully. Peter's head practically snapped in his direction, then, more subtly, in yours. You shook head slightly, almost imperceptibly, but clearly enough to let Peter know you hadn't told his secret.

"You met Tony Stark?" Claire asked him with a bright light in her eyes, one that Peter had seen thousands of times on other kids that, very much like himself, dreamt every night of robots and technologies that could change the world.

"Yes."

"How was he?"

Peter thought for a few seconds about his answer. What was Tony Stark? He was charming, sure, but he wasn't exactly friendly. He was a genius, yet he had never let that cloud his judgement. He had trouble expressing himself, but he always made sure the people around knew how much they meant to him. Suddenly Peter understood why Shakespeare was always making up words, there were just some things, some people, the english language wasn't extensive enough to describe, so he said the best he could come up with.

"He was the most amazing guy I ever met."

You smiled down at your nearly empty plate, it was impossible to forget how much had mr. Stark meant for Peter. Even when you guys broke up and cut off all communication, you still prayed for him to always be under the wing of his mentor. You couldn’t imagen what it was like for Peter to live in a world where Tony Stark was no longer there to help him walk through life.

Hopefully, you would be able to do that in his absence.

taglist: @eridanuswave @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @lovely-geek @princessdancingonthesunshine​ @marvel4geeks​ @hedwigprewett12​ @dummiesshort​ @alyssasanchezz14​ @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme​

[fireinmoonshot]

REBEL | ARMITAGE HUX x READER | PART TWO

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE RISE OF SKYWALKER.

READ PART ONE FIRST! Summary: Armitage Hux finds himself strangely fascinated by you, a Resistance fighter and pilot, even though he knows he shouldn’t. You know that there’s much more to him than you see on the surface. Pairing: female!Reader x Armitage Hux Fandom: Star Wars Word Count: 2613 Warnings: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER SPOILERS. A/N: Uh, wow! Thank you so much for the incredible response on the first part of this. I wasn’t expecting that at all – both on tumblr and on Ao3. I very much appreciate it, and I’m loving writing this fic so I’m glad you’re enjoying reading it too! As of right now, we’re still following the TROS timeline, by the way. It’ll be pretty clear where this story is set when you read this part, just on the chance the first part confused anybody! Pieces of this story do and will diverge from canon!

Poe practically jumps on you as soon as you’re back. 

It’s pretty much impossible to avoid him when it looks like he’s been sitting around and waiting for you to get back for most of the night. It’s only just starting to get light again and his appearance surprises you. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” You mutter, jumping down off the TIE fighter and starting to make your way towards the place you assume R2-D2 will be. “How long have you been waiting for me?”

Poe throws you a look. “Did you get anything new? What did they say?”

You hold up the device. “You’ll find out soon enough yourself.”

He joins you, wanting to be there when the message is decoded. He’s been there for most of them, you remember. When you’d started getting messages, he and Finn had been there alongside you in the Falcon getting them from Boolio, and then it had just become you. He was bound to be a little jealous. And it just as easily could have been him that ended up accidentally discovering Hux as the spy – you’re glad it was you. You know that Poe wouldn’t have accepted working with Hux as easily as you. 

“So, are you going to tell us who the spy is yet?” Poe asks as you round a corner. He’s been asking ever since. “You’re going to have to tell us one day. You know that?”

It’s a little brighter in here, and you want nothing more than to ignore Poe’s question and head to bed to get a few hours sleep in, but you have a feeling that whatever is on the disk is undoubtedly going to change that for you. Running on a low amount of sleep is nearly a crucial factor to being in the Resistance, and you’re used to it. As is dealing with a very persistent Poe Dameron. 

“No,” you shake your head at him. “They don’t want anybody to know. And for good reason, Poe. If you were a traitor and a spy, you wouldn’t want people to know that it was you, would you?”

“You make a good point,” Poe shrugs, just as you set eyes on R2.

“R2, good morning! We’ve got some new intel. You ready to decode for us?”

He beeps, and you smile and connect the device. 

–

You’re not smiling anymore when you stand in front of the entire Resistance with Poe, the decoded message from Hux still running through your mind. You suspected what it was going to be, but you still feel like you’re in shock. And part of you wishes that Hux had at least warned you, told you that this message was going to be a big one.

But he’d said it himself: he felt like less of a traitor when he didn’t say it out loud.

You decide to let Poe be the one to break the news. If he does, you don’t feel as bad in being the one to deliver it.

“We’ve decoded the intel from the First Order spy,” Poe says, making a point to look at you, “and it confirms the worst. Somehow Palpatine returned.” 

The unrest heard throughout the Resistance sends chills through you.

“Wait, do we believe this?” Rose, standing beside you, doesn’t sound so sure.

“It cannot be. The Emperor is dead.”

“Dark signs. Cloning. Secrets only the Sith knew.”

“He’s been planning his revenge,” Poe continues. “His followers have been building something for years. The largest fleet the galaxy’s ever known. He calls it The Final Order. In sixteen hours, attacks on all three worlds begin. The Emperor and his fleet have been hiding in the unknown regions on a world called Exegol.”

R2 beeps and Threepio places a hand on him, and then speaks. “Exegol does not appear on any star chart. But legend describes it as the hidden world of the Sith.”

You notice that Rey has disappeared, though before you can get a chance, people’s words are being directed at you. They’re angry, some of them. As if they aren’t happy with you, and the relief you felt briefly before at not being the one to deliver the news is gone at the sound of their voices.

“You’ve spoken with the spy, why didn’t they tell you where Exegol is?”

“Did they tell you anything else?”

“What’s the point of meeting with a spy when they’re telling you things we’ve already suspected for months? Are we sure you’re even meeting with him? Maybe you’re lying.”

Poe steps forward. “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t blame her for something she has no control over. We can’t let ourselves sink to that level.”

But you don’t want him to have to take the brunt of their hatred. You step up beside him and look around at the people that are blaming you for not knowing more. You don’t know why you instantly feel like defending Hux, the spy, but you do it anyway. Without hesitance. You feel defensive at the Resistance acting like he’s never given them anything worthwhile. At the implication that you’re not even meeting with him. You don’t have a TIE fighter for no reason. You don’t have First Order clothes for no reason, even if you don’t wear them. You haven’t been risking your life for months for no reason. 

“You all have to understand that this spy, they’re doing this because they want to help us. They’re giving us all this information and risking their life as they do it. They gave me everything they could, and they have been for months now. If they knew where Exegol was, don’t you think they would have told me too?”

There’s silence.

“We know all that they’re willing to share. We need to be grateful that they’re sharing anything with us at all. Now, we have a confirmation on what we’ve suspected. We have more meetings planned. Wherever Exegol is, we’ll find it. You just have to trust me – and trust the spy like I do.”

–

Finn had been the one to come and ask you to join them on their journey to Pasaana.  It hadn’t been a difficult decision to make, even though you knew it would be dangerous. You assumed that Rey had asked him to ask you because of your connection with the spy but as you join Chewie, Finn and Poe at the Falcon, you realise you’re clearly wrong.

“You were right before,” Rey says, walking towards you. “I’m gonna pick up Luke’s search for Exegol. I’m gonna start where his trail went cold – the forbidden desert of Pasaana.” 

She never goes on missions with any of you. You’ve never minded. She’s needed to stay back on Ajan Kloss and train, and you, Finn and Poe have always had it covered. And with Chewie, too - that wookiee can kick some major ass when he needs to, and he can fly a ship extremely well. You know he’s still getting used to a world without Han, and you’re adjusting to that too, you all are, even though it’s been a while now. But you figure that Chewie getting out there into the world and helping others helped him even more. 

“Yeah, I know. We’re going with you.” Poe says the words rather nonchalantly and then walks on past her, leaving you outside with a confused Rey. “Chewie, you get that compressor fixed?”

She looks between you and Finn. “I need to go alone.”

“Yeah, alone with friends.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Are you forgetting that I was talking to a First Order spy on their ship last night? That I have been for months?” You give Rey a look, and you see her resolve crumble a little. There’s not much she can say to that. “Dangerous is easy. I know dangerous like the back of my hand. We all do. We’re willing to risk it.”

Finn nods in agreement. “We go together.” 

Chewie agrees. BB-8 beeps. C3-PO speaks. Rey has no other choice. 

You head onto the ship with Finn soon after to make final checks and ensure that everything is ready for the mission. You’ve never been to Pasaana before, though you’ve heard stories about it – your parents had many stories to tell you when you were young, and you savoured the little memories you had of them. 

Finn starts to head towards the cockpit and you join him.

“What about Rose? She’s not coming?” 

Finn shakes his head. “Leia’s asked her to stay back. And I think, after last year, getting stuck on that First Order ship, nearly dying at the hands of Stormtroopers… I think she’s just happy to stay in a place she feels safe for a while. You know? Well– maybe you don’t.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe I don’t? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Finn continues, a little reluctantly, “that you’ve never been one for staying in a safe place, ever since I met you. You’ve always been up there flying or the first one jumping into danger. You didn’t even hesitate when I asked you to come with us just now. You’re flying a damn TIE fighter to and from the First Order every few weeks to get intel from a spy. When you go and meet with that spy, you’re risking everything.  Even the stories you told me about your childhood. That doesn’t sound safe to me.”

He’s right, you realise. And you can’t say otherwise. You’ve never been one to steer on the safe side of things, though there is always an air of apprehension about your decisions. Even in deciding to meet with Hux… and Hux, he’d probably be disappointed to hear that you were travelling with Rey – you know that the First Order want her more than anything. That, in travelling with her, you put yourself in danger, and strangely, you’ve noted that Hux doesn’t seem to like the idea of you in danger – hence the First Order clothes and the TIE fighter. 

But you want to win. He wants Kylo dead, and you want the Resistance to win. And now that Palpatine is back… winning has never been more important.

–

For Armitage, he always feels a little tense before big meetings with all the leaders of the First Order. He used to feel comfortable there, like he belonged. Like he was one day going to be in the place of Kylo Ren, leading them all. But times have changed and now, as he sits with all the other members of the First Order, he feels a sense that he doesn’t belong. He’d rather be anywhere else.

Kylo enters the room then and throws something on the table, and Armitage sucks in a deep breath. He knows the Ovissian – he’s familiar, and he’s trying everything not to cringe at the sight of Boolio’s head. Fear spikes through his veins. He tries not to focus on the blood that pools on the table beneath him.

Kylo found him. And now he’s dead. One of the only two people that knew about him being the spy, dead on the table in front of him. You’re the only one left. He doesn’t like the thought that enters his mind about Kylo finding you. About him coming into a meeting one day and seeing your head on the table.

He tears his gaze away from Boolio just as Kylo begins to speak.

“We have a spy in our ranks who just sent a message to the Resistance. It’s likely they’ve been sending messages for months without us knowing. This– this creature has been helping. But he refused to give up the name of the traitor.”

He takes a sharp breath, and then steadies himself as he sees the eyes of Allegiant General Pryde fall on him. He must not reveal himself, nor must he be suspected. As far as Kylo Ren knows, General Hux is still the same man he’s always known. The one loyal to the cause, loyal to the First Order. But he doesn’t find himself fearing what Ren would do to him if he discovered he was the spy– no, the head of Boolio makes him fear something different.

Something worse.

“Whoever this traitor is, they won’t stop us,” he continues. “With what I’ve seen on Exegol, the First Order is about to become a true empire.”

Armitage watches him carefully, though his unease seeps through his facade and he’s unable to stop it. Kylo’s new mask is… different. It frightens him a little, though he’d never admit that.

“I sense unease about my appearance, General Hux.”

Several pairs of eyes turn to look at him.

“About the mask? No, sir. Well done.”

For the remainder of the meeting, he tries to act normally. To not seem suspicious or uneasy. Like the good General everybody still thinks he is, even when Kylo uses the force on the man who doubts him. But then Kylo Ren says several words that make him feel even more uneasy than he did about the mask. 

“My Knights and I are going hunting for the scavenger.”

Because he knows that you will be with her.

–

He closes and locks the door of his quarters behind him and hurries over to the lamp to retrieve the frequency from underneath it. He’s breathing rather heavily, and he doesn’t know if you would class this as an emergency but he wants to try and warn you any way he can. You probably already know that there are spies in the galaxy that are sympathetic to the First Order and will share the location of the scavenger, and by extension, you if you’re spotted.

But you don’t know that Kylo Ren is actively looking.

He tries you once, and then he tries you again. But there’s nothing, just fuzzing on the other side of the receiver. He squeezes the device tight in his hand. The one time he uses the frequency, the one time he wants to reach you, you don’t answer! He wants to throw it at the wall, but then it would break and he’d never be able to contact you again, and he can’t risk that. He can’t risk you trying to contact him and him not answering when you might need advice. Or help, even. 

He’s surprised at the thought. Him, offering you help or advice. It’s an entirely different side to him being a spy, and he’s not sure how he feels about it. Giving you and, by extension, the Resistance information is one thing… but helping you out of a sticky situation… directly saving you from the Resistance… he’s not sure if he’d have the heart to do such a thing.

He likes to think he would.

Armitage tries to reach you again, just to be sure.

Your lack of answer is the only confirmation he needs that you’re with the scavenger.

He wants to warn you. He doesn’t know why he feels so strongly about warning you, but he wants to. Perhaps it’s got something to do with the fact that you’re the only person he truly trusts. But before he gets the chance, there’s a knock on his door.

Hiding the receiver and placing the lamp back on the bedside table on the chance it’s Allegiant General Pryde, Hux opens the door to an officer standing outside of it. 

“What is it?” He enquires.

“Kylo Ren, sir. He’s found the scavenger on Pasaana. Allegiant General Pryde wanted you to know that he’s gone to the planet to seek her and her companions out. That you should be ready for when they return.”

He thanks them, closes the door and then swears.

—

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[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter VII

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Characters: Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA 18+

Overall Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Chapter Warning: Drug use.

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys…

Chapter VII

The smell of apples tickles my nose as soon as I roll over. Sleep has been damn near impossible tonight and Thora's fruit-scented shampoo is making me want to sneeze. Although it smells good; fresh and soft, like her, it’s unsettling.  It’s been interrupting my restless sleep for the past hour.  Opening my eyes, I stare at the back of her head and wonder if I cut her hair off, would I still be able to smell that fucking shampoo?

There is no good reason for me to be awake right now. Between finally going back to work, exploring the cabin with Ivar, my date with Thora, then coming back here and making love to her, I should be exhausted. But, I'm not. No matter how physically tired I am, I’m wide a-fucking-wake right now and a million thoughts are running through my head.

I turn the lamp on and I reach for the ashtray and my cigarettes.  I look at the pack in my hand uninterested, knowing full well this is not going to help me sleep.  If I really want to relax, I have a half a pound of weed and a gram of heroin in my night table. An A-Bomb is guaranteed to put me at ease, but I know Thora would have a stroke if she saw me doing that.  

She doesn't exactly know anything about what I do in my spare time. I can't exactly spring up the fact that I like to get high every now and again on her. Not when we're getting to the point in our relationship when I'm seriously considering taking things to the next level.  

I turned 28 today, well, yesterday.  I have to grow up sometime, right?

Something Ivar said today made me think.  He said we discovered that we were best brothers and soul mates when we were kids.  Did that mean we’ve been doing this since then?  When I think about how long we’ve been running together, I can only remember back so far.  It just feels like we’ve been doing this since forever ago.  I don’t even remember when or how it started.  But, if it’s been since we were teens, well then, that means I’m getting closer to when I should be able to stop, right?

It’s like everything is finally falling into place. 

Now that we’ve got this cabin, we can entertain ourselves until we finally get enough and then I can ask Thora to marry me. As much as I want that, the thought of leaving Ivar scares the shit out me. He's been my rock for so long, I honestly don't know what I'd do without him. Let’s face it, can’t really see myself having a breakdown and walking out on Thora to go find him to make it all better. That should be her job, right? But it can't be. She can't take care of me, because I have to take care of her. She wouldn't understand what goes on in my mind and she's never seen me not have my shit together.  

So maybe then, we should find a woman for Ivar, that way all four of us can live together, here.  He could still help me through a crisis and I won’t have to give up spending every day with my best friend.  The girls would become like sisters and we’d all end up hanging out together, all the time. Maybe we’d even all get high and have sex together. 

Oh God, that would be Utopia.  

I’m so excited.  I need to tell Ivar.  I don’t know if he’d be down for it.  He doesn’t have as much faith in me as I do and he fucking hates Thora.  But, I just need him to have an open mind.

"Where are you going?" Thora's eyes barely open when her hand touches the warm spot where I once was. She's a light sleeper and the slightest movement from me usually wakes her up.

Stepping into my boxer shorts, I lean over and kiss her fruity head. "To the bathroom. Go back to sleep." She nods at the whispered sound of my voice and drifts back off. Grabbing the small envelope from the drawer in my nightstand, I look to see that her eyes are fully closed before I slip it into the waistband of my underwear.  

I make sure to cover her chest with the sheet that is gathered around her lower half. When I was lying next to her, my body kept her covered, but now she's exposed. There's something that happens to me when her most intimate parts are uncovered. I feel unsettled. It's like it takes away her innocence. She needs to be covered and protected at all times.

With my ashtray in hand, I make my way to Ivar’s room, relishing at the feeling of my toes sinking into the carpet as I walk. He did make a good choice when he picked this carpet out.  I thought it was too expensive and unnecessary to have something this plush, but it does feel nice underfoot.  

My brother has got great taste in everything. 

Take this house for example; he picked it out and decorated it.  I love the colors, the furniture, even the floor plan. I especially love the way this hallway opens up just before his bedroom.  It makes were he sleeps seem so special and grand like it denotes this is the master bedroom and not just another sleeping quarter like where my bedroom is.  I know he’d switch with me if I asked him, but I don’t want that much responsibility. 

The person with the master is the person that has to know and do all the things. No fucking thank you.  

My mind is racing again.  I need to get some fucking sleep.  It’s nights like that I think I can actually feel myself going crazy.

Ivar’s door is cracked open. He knows that sometimes I just need to be around him. It doesn't matter what time of day or night it is, or what else he's doing, he always leaves the door cracked for me to come in whenever I need to. The funny thing is, he seldom comes into my room to check on me. It's just a given that if I need something, I will come to him.

"What's up, birthday boy?" The smell of soap and shampoo wafts throughout his bedroom as soon as I open the door. He's sitting on the bed watching television, but as soon as he sees me, he turns it off. His hands fold neatly in his lap, the weight of which pulls his sheet down far enough to expose his naked hip bone to me. His dirty clothes are piled in the corner. Judging from the dirt and mud on them, I guess he spent almost all night at the cabin. 

"Nothing," I stand in the doorway until he invites me in further. I can't take my eyes off of him. Everything he does captivates me.

Ivar pats the side of the bed next to him and pulls back the covers enough so that I know that's where he wants me. Obediently, I make my way across the room and sit down. I place the ashtray on his nightstand and look over at him as he hands me a Black & Mild. "You're lying." He knows me so well.

I guess he can read the questions on my face. 

It pains me to know that these are the nights that I'll be giving up when I marry Thora. It's not likely that I'll be sitting in bed with her, rolling a blunt, about to pour my heart out to her. "I don't know. Just a lot of shit."

Ivar's arm around my bare back sends a comforting warmth throughout my body. My head finds its way to his shoulder and my eyes close at the feeling. "Like what?" 

"What's gonna happen when we stop?" I know how he feels when I talk about stopping, but no matter how he tries to calm that fear, part of me will not settle. He sighs into my hair and his hand traces a path up and down my spine.

I can feel him watching me as I sit up and try to concentrate on sprinkling the marijuana onto the paper and not on the tears touching my eyes. It doesn't matter how much I try to mask it, he knows me. His hand touches my chin and turns my face toward him. "Nothing will change, Hvitserk. You think you want that other life, but you don't. We have a life together."

"But Thora…"

A bright smile cuts his face and his eyes light up at the mention of her name. “She can have the babies and we'll take of them. We can teach them everything we know. We don't need her." His future doesn't include her and he never makes mention of her with regards to us. Somehow I don’t think he’ll go for my plan of us living here together with our wives, either. He doesn’t believe I’m serious when I say we’re not going to do this forever. 

I nod and turn my attention back to the paper in my hand, sprinkling a small amount of the brown powder from the mini envelope, on top. Sitting the envelope next to the bag on the bed, I slowly fold over the paper and raise it to my tongue to wet the ends. An Atomic Bomb twisted to perfection, I hand it to Ivar.  

He shakes his head and reaches over to his nightstand and pulls an already rolled blunt from a bag.  He licks it and raises his brows at me, “Aw, you dick!” I playfully push his shoulder and swoon at his laughter, “You didn’t tell me you got Sherms.” 

I knew he visited that guy across town while I was at work but he didn’t tell me everything he bought.  He got Sherms – blunts dipped in formaldehyde…now, this is a party favorite!  A real crowd-pleaser.  

“We can trade.” He hands me the Sherm and takes my A-Bomb.  Considering that Thora is still asleep in my bed and I’m not sure how the embalming fluid is going to affect me tonight, I opt for the heroin laced weed.  He takes my lighter and sparks up.  

"Seriously though, how long do you think we can keep this up?  I mean, every single one of them has a fucking name or a life. No matter how much they want us, they all have something they leave behind." The smell of his weed hits me immediately and my head lightens at the contact. I have to look the blunt in my hand so I don’t have to meet his eyes. "It was easier when we'd just leave them…even if they were fucked up. I didn't blackout then."

"You only blackout when they make you angry." Ivar's voice is thick with the smoke that he's trying to keep in his lungs. There's a cough and then the sound of him sipping. I love the silky way his voice sounds when he's smoking. "If they would just fucking listen, they could walk away."

The laugh that comes out of my mouth makes Ivar laugh, too. It's bullshit and we both know it. Even if they were left alive, there's no way in hell they'd be able to walk anywhere. Ivar always makes sure of that. "I'd like to see that."

"Well, maybe not walk." He chuckles.  He holds the lighter to the end of my blunt and smiles when I gulp in the smoke. Tossing it onto the covers, he leans back against the headboard and closes his eyes. "It just feels natural, ya know? It's nothing better than coming home from a hard day's work and knowing that I'm going to be able to hang out with my soul mate and have a night to remember. And I do, Serk. I remember every night."

He always calls me his soul mate. I feel like he's mine, too. Best friends never really seem to cover it, so we made up the term best brothers.  But that only seemed to describe part of our bond.  What Ivar and I share is so much more than brotherhood.  The connection between us is all-encompassing.  With him, there is nothing that I'm embarrassed about. We just get and need each other. 

I don't think that I could ever have as intimate of a relationship with anyone as I do with him. There isn't anything that I need that I can't go to him for. There isn't anything that he wouldn't do for me. All the fears, the pain, the questions, the freakouts… the laughter, the happiness, the elation… the rush, the adrenaline, the pleasure, the orgasms…I feel all of it most intensely when he’s around. And truthfully, I love the fact that he's there to share it with me.

"Me, too." I choke off the smoke right before everything starts to slow down around me.  "Just scared that you won't be there one day if I need you."

Ivar sits up and places his weed in the ashtray. I feel his hand on my back moving up toward my neck and the soft grip he places on it. Without asking my permission, he pulls my head down to his chest before reclining back against the headboard with me. "Brother, I'm always gonna be here. You know that. I don't care what happens in the future. I'm never going to leave you. I'm never going to let anyone come between us." He lifts my blunt of out my hand and places it next to his, allowing me to wrap my arm around his bare waist and enjoy the feeling of comfort that he is providing. "I know you, Hvitserk. I know your heart. You're a good man. You just have to permit yourself to enjoy life. We help these people. We show them a world that they didn't know they wanted. You've seen how much they enjoy it. They love it and they love us for it. We free 'em.”  He kisses the top of my head. “We're fucking gods to them."

He's right. I know he's right. I know that look in their eyes and the feeling of them fighting against me. They're excited by it, they get into the role. But when will I ever stop wanting to play? "But it can't last forever."

"It will if we want it to. We've got the best of both worlds. We get to have a life and an afterlife, all at the same time. I feel it growing in me and watching you, I know it's growing for you, too. You keep trying to convince yourself that you can stop, but that only makes you angrier. You can't stop it, Serk. Just enjoy it now and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. It's so much more fun if you have fun doing it.”  His voice is growing lazy and I know that he'll be falling asleep soon. This isn't uncommon. He always stays up and holds me until I fall asleep, never letting me out of his arms. "I found something for you in the cabin."

"What?" My heart races at the prospect of a present.

With a slight chuckle, he squeezes my shoulders tighter, "A collar and a leather leash. I know how you like to let them have free reign to move around. And, I moved the mattress in front of the fireplace. I connected the leash to a chain I found and that’s all bolted into the stone so it’s long enough for you to play." Ivar's voice is getting fainter. He'll be asleep in no time.

"Thank you." I smile up at him and kiss his jaw like I used to do to Father. He's so good to me.

With a lazy smile, he fights to keep his heavy lids open.  He leans down and brushes his lips against my nose.  "Happy birthday, baby."

Lying on his chest, I listen to the gentle hum of his breathing, and his heart pumping so much love for me through his body, I let my mind shift to the unlimited possibilities in the place that Ivar found for us. Just the thought of it makes me hard again.

With a quick kiss on Ivar's cheek, I make my way back down the narrowing hallway to my bedroom. The smell of Thora's shampoo lures me to the bed and the silhouette of her body in the dark room is enough to make me pull off my boxers and the covers resting on her. Completely enveloping her body with mine, I remind myself to be gentle with her. I have so many thoughts and desires coursing through me right now, that I can't chance hurting her.

She's still asleep, but her legs move easily allowing me to push into her with force. For a split second, she feeds the need that I have. At that moment, when she realizes that I'm inside of her and her eyes fly open in surprise, I feel the hunger starting. But the more I look at her and notice how her eyes grow soft and cloud over with love; I remind myself that she's special. I don't like to hold back, but I have to when I feel like this. She will cure my immediate need, but she won’t settle my hunger.

Tonight, I make love. Tomorrow, I will feed.

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[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 5: Ch 3

Ch 2

Summary: An unnamed Space Explorer must come to terms with the fate of the universe resting in her hands. 

Part 1: ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

Part 4: ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

————————

Head pressed against her chest, she held me as if I wasn’t real. As if I’d disappear and when I did she’d wake up in her bed underneath a soaked pillow. Soaked because she was crying as she slept. Soaked because she wasn’t alone anymore. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered through the tears. 

Moving her away from me, heartbroken, I look up to see her eyes. They’re watery with dark circles underneath. Looking at them, made me even more heartbroken. Saamuki didn’t deserve pain. She’s not like me. She doesn’t fuck up. She puts others before herself unlike me. I questioned her, “What do you mean?”

“I heard what happened. Your homeworld. Maybe if I was there I could’ve done something. I could’ve prevented it. I could only imagine what you must be feeling right now.” Her grip tightens. I can feel my cloak twist and bend underneath her grip.

“What? No. I should be the one apologizing. I broke your promise. I couldn’t save Mikrovos.”

Just a moment ago I was the bigger person, literally, even though she stood above me. Now I’m small, as I’m once again human. I felt small. Saamuki and I are about the same height, me being just an inch taller, but at this moment with how she’s looking down at me I felt like a child who’s about to be scolded by their parents. I flinched when she opened her mouth to say, “Mikrovos?” Her voice cracked. It was as if she was a teenager going through puberty. “I was wondering where he and the others were. What happened? Please, tell me what’s happened since we went our separate ways.” 

She takes a seat next to me. I opened my mouth to respond but quickly shut it. I was about to emphasize that I’m the bad guy between us, but I retract it because the look in her eyes told me this isn’t the time for that. Those bags underneath them told me she’s been talked down to plenty during our separation. Saamuki deserves answers and nothing less. Besides, she’s the only one I have left. “As you may have guessed, a lot has happened.” 

After retelling her everything, “Wow. I mean I knew some of it, but I never would’ve guessed all of that. Are you alright?”

“Am I alright,” I look away from her, “Yes. Sure. Maybe? But, Saamuki, are you? I broke your promise. I failed you. Mikrovos...I left him.” I clenched the sheet beneath us. She, in my defenseless state, places her hand on the very thigh that was about to be the victim of adultery. This time her intent isn’t out of lust. It’s different. It’s gentle like how a mother would touch her child. Resting it there, until I lift my head, she gives me the type of smile that says she understands. On the other hand, I don’t. I don’t understand how she can be so okay with this. 

Noticing my resentment over her reaction, “I know you already. You did what you could.”

I place my hand on my chest. I clutch it. My eyes water. I’m about to cry again, but with me biting my lip I’m able to hold back my tears. “No, I didn’t. Mikrovos and the others, if any of them were in my shoes, could do it. They wouldn’t have fucked up as much as I have.”

“Well, that’s the problem. You’re not any of them. You’re you.”

“And what’s so good about being me? Tell me, Saamuki. Please. What’s so good about being the one that started a second intergalactic war?”

“Because you try your hardest even when things are against you. Even when circumstances have become impossible you always manage to do what you can to fight for things you think are right. Not many people can do that. I,” her voice lowers, “can’t. I’ve tried, but you’ve done things I’d never think of doing in a million years.”

“Saamuki?”

“With the destruction of our homeworld, my sister and I had to fend for ourselves. Some days we couldn’t eat. Some days we couldn’t sleep. We were the last of our people. We were young. We were forced into a whole new world, so to speak. My sister took whatever job she could to earn just enough for both of us to eat, but one day she got tired of it. She used her gift. She became a criminal. I didn’t like it because I didn’t want to see her one day locked up or, worse, killed. We argued. In my frustration, Cabelo found me. When my sister found out, we argued again, but that time we went our separate ways. I haven’t seen her since.” I hug her. She hugs me back. Our hug doesn’t last as long as our previous. It’s short, but I feel the same amount of burning, heartfelt emotion. 

“I’m sorry. If I could do something about that I would.”

“I know you would, but that’s why I had to split up from the group. I think I found a way to bring my sister back to life.”

“What?” It’s all I can say. What else could I have said other than it sounds crazy? I don’t have a set belief in what happens once we die. I’m not too into the idea of an afterlife, like Heaven and Hell, and that there’s a higher power out there. I guess I’d be labeled as agnostic, which once again makes me an outlier. After the first invasion, the survivors either became atheists or way more religious than they previously were. Though they make up a small population, barely a million, they make up the total population in rural areas. They claimed it was to get closer to God as cities are filled with technology, sins. These people believe our innovations are what made God wipe out a good ninety-four percent of the original population. They call themselves God’s Children. If the name they chose hasn’t already revealed it yet, they’re full of themselves. They’re more full of themselves than that commander with the electric whip, or so Ashley has said. Speaking of her, this all would have sounded a lot more interesting if she told it. 

“Below this building is a room only Cabelo is allowed to enter. Throughout the years I’ve worked under Cabelo I learned that I don’t know him all that much. He’s surprisingly secretive, but one night before we met I got tired of all the secrets. I seduced one of his guards and by doing so I was able to head down to the basement. I was lost. I didn’t know how long. Hours maybe. Maybe it was just a few minutes. It’s a labyrinth down there, but I eventually found a room where an unfamiliar language was spoken. I tried opening the door, but it was locked. No, actually, there weren’t any knobs on it. Not even a screen to swipe, but it was clear that the piece of the wall could be moved. So, I left. I did some digging and I found that the reason I haven’t heard that language before is that it hasn’t been spoken for thousands of years as it died with its civilization.”

I didn’t mean to sound so bitterly dismissive, but I did. “So, you think Cabelo is contacting the dead down in the basement?”

“He’s doing other stuff down there, but yes. I know it sounds completely crazy. I thought so too, but it’s the only logical conclusion I can think of.”

“I’m just trying to understand. Believe me, I am, but if you’re right how exactly are you going to bring your sister back to life?”

“Well, I was thinking that if I were to get into that room I’d be able to contact my sister or some other spirit about the process. They have to know. Someone has to by now.”

“Saamuki, these are a lot of maybes. It all just sounds impossible.” She eyes me like a child who’s spent all day scripting and practicing what they were going to ask their parents but just ends up hearing what they were trying to avoid. Essentially, she gives me wide eyes. “But you’re right. I always do what I think is right. So, I’m going to help you get into that room.”

It was more so I thought it was the most logical thing to do. Saamuki is focused on getting her sister back, I understand that. So, that’s the reason why I want to help her other than feeling guilty. For her to join and help me out again, I need to help her out first. 

“Thank you, but how?”

Lending me a jacket to cover my face from prying eyes, I followed right behind her with my head down. We saw no one using the winding, long staircase. It was too late in the night for anyone to be walking about. They were too busy either doing someone or being done by someone in their rooms. Or so I thought because once we stepped into the lobby I saw the reflection of a couple on the marble floor. I wasn’t panicking. They were drunk. Very drunk. Their laughter and slurred words echoed across the lobby as they stumbled towards who knew where. Actually, I was a little panicked but calm for the most part. Because I have a clearer mind, I’m only now able to realize how truly large this place is. The glass ceiling, which is in the shape of an arch, allowed me to see the floors I had just gone through. They seemed to go on forever. I’m amazed I wasn’t panting because Saamuki’s room is on the top floor. I suppose that’s about floor eighty if I’m counting correctly. Basically, I’ve burned through a lot of staircases.

Thankfully we’re able to walk to the other side of the room without a hitch. That is until a deep voice calls out to Saamuki from the other side of the hallway. 

Both turning around to the culprit with my head still down, I eye a figure who’s just as big as Mikrovos. He’s wide and bulky. Sprinkles of grey hair can be seen in the sea of their black hair. He shares the same uniform as Cabelo’s guards, but a blood-red sash had been swung diagonally across his suit. “Saamuki, what are you doing here? You know you’re not allowed in this area.” 

Walking towards him, she places her left hand behind his back and her other hand on his chest. She looks at him as she slides her hand down. He, in return, blushes. “Lucy, you know I get so bored sometimes. I know every inch of this place, but not down there,” she whined with a moan. 

As she’s about to unbuckle his belt, he can barely muster words. “Y-You know I c-can’t just do that. I’m not even allowed down there. And, S-Saamuki, who’s that behind you?” He looks over her shoulder and looks at me. I gulp. In response, she moves his head so that he’s facing her again.

“Lucy, don’t be such a bore. I’ve seen how you look at me. I know how I make you feel. Remember that night? I could make you feel like that again.” She whispers that last part under her breath.

“No, Saamuki. Maybe some other time. You know somewhere else, but I can’t do that again. We almost got caught. If we were my wife would’ve found out. My kids. Oh, God, Saamuki. I love them. I can’t bear to never see them again.”

As they bantered, I could hear someone closing in on us. So, I changed the plan and pointed my gun at the hulking figure that is Lucy. Raising both of his hands and looking shocked, but offended at Saamuki, I command before he gets the chance to speak his mind, “Let us through that door or I’m going to make sure that you really never get to see your kids again.” 

Saamuki is surprised by the sudden tension I caused. She knows that this isn’t me. She knows I don’t usually act this way, but I think she notices the footsteps too, which allows her to trust me. Or she just thinks I’m really on the edge because I’ve told her I only act this way when I am. Or both. Whatever went through my reptilian companion’s mind isn’t my focus. It’s getting the now sweating Lucy to comply before we find out who’s footsteps those are. 

[theincompetentgenius]

Chocolate (Hideyoshi x Reader Fic)

 @pusec: Can I get a short scenario of MC accidentally calling Hideyoshi "mom"? (Ikemen sengoku//not sure if this didn't happen In canon already thought)😂

It’s probably happened before. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she did and we just glazed over it because that’s what we were thinking ourselves. Also, I’m really for the chocolate obsession in this because I’m fasting so I’m REALLY HUNGRY (it makes up almost the entire fic and I realized it was getting out of hand, so I tried to save it at the end. But I doubt that really did anything). Anywho, enjoy this mess and I’m sorry in advance.

Title: Chocolate                                 

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Hideyoshi x Reader                   

Word Count: 1857

If there was one thing I could change about the Sengoku Era, it would be the amount of chocolate that I could buy.

I know the history behind the scarcity of chocolate in Japan, but it doesn’t make it any less painful. Whenever my period comes around, I’m craving a good chocolate bar. If it’s more than 50 degrees, my tongue is ready for some creamy chocolate ice cream. My body has been suffering from chocolate withdrawal: my stomach is always growling, my head overrun with fatigue, and my mouth salivating for that sweet, milky taste. I think people have started to notice because Masamune has been making me a lot more sweets while Hideyoshi bought me the finest candies the other day. Nobunaga even offered me his konpeito. The treats were delicious, but I miss my wonderous chocolate. The only chocolate I’ve had was cacao beans shipped from who-knows-where. Those were disgusting.

So you can imagine my excitement when Hideyoshi told us that shipments of chocolate had arrived at the Japanese trading ports. They would be sending the delicacy to different vendors throughout the country in the upcoming weeks. I screamed so loud that Ieyasu’s ears nearly fell off and Masamune rushed to the meeting. Although I got scolded for my excitement, there was nothing that could ruin my joy. I would be reunited with my love and savior: chocolate.

Every week, I would drag a warlord out in the town to search for chocolate. However, most vendors had no idea what I was talking about and didn’t carry anything that looked like chocolate. One vendor sold me a brown, solid bar that looked like the real deal. It was expensive, but I had to get my hands on it. But the moment I bit into the bar, my tongue recoiled from the taste and my lips nearly fell off my mouth. I gagged. The schemer had sold me a bar of tamarind instead.

However, I haven’t given up on my quest to find the chocolate. Although I took a week-long break, I am back and stronger than ever. Nothing can stop m--

“What are you writing?” Hideyoshi points to my notebook.

I quickly shut the pages of my notebook and stuff it in my bag. If he saw my maniacal writing about chocolate, he’d keep me away from it and turn this whole thing into a Nobunaga-konpeito situation. It would ruin all of my plans.

“Just about how I’m excited to have chocolate. I like to write my feelings,” I give him a sheepish grin.

“That’s really cute, but why chocolate?” He laughs.

“What do you mean, ‘why chocolate?’ “ I ramble about my childhood stories and how chocolate has been a vital part of my life. It guided me through my struggles, brighten my dark days, and was present in all my nostalgic memories. Hideyoshi listened quietly, nodding and laughing throughout my stories.

“If it’s such a big part of your life, then why didn’t you tell me about it? I could have requested some from the traders,” He asked.

“I’ve been so caught with this adjusting to the new life that I almost forgot about it.” This was far from the truth, but I didn’t want to come off as a chocolate addict.

As we walk along the street, I notice the different vendors. Each makes profits from vastly different items. Fruits, weapons, rice, ornaments, and other assortments. Each stall is made out of birch wood, but that’s where the similarities end. One has vines coiling around the wooden columns, another one has splotches of dye on the stall, and the most bizarre of them all is the stall in yellow with green stockings hanging from the top. It is the weirdest combination of colors I have ever seen.

Hideyoshi approaches each vendor whether they have the candy or not. I don’t feel comfortable asking them ever since I got scammed with the tamarind bar. It’s probably for the best since they all give him salutes and offer him all their products at discounted prices and I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to haggle for even half those prices.

We come across the odd yellow-and-green stall that I was watching earlier. Hideyoshi asks the vendor the same set of questions and he shakes his head in the same manner as the ones before him. It’s become a routine. Instinctively, I turn around and walk towards the nearest stall when I hear Hideyoshi’s voice call out to me.

“Where are you going? They have the chocolate!”

I turn around and zoom to the front of the stall. It is impossible for me to confine my excitement in my head. Forgetting that I’m in the Sengoku Era, I begin to interrogate him about the different types of chocolates in his possession. Every time the vendor tries to speak, I cut him off and provide him with my preferences. If it was dark chocolate, I didn’t want to be anywhere near it. If it was white chocolate, I wanted a 50% discount because that was fake chocolate. The only bar I would be pleased with was the regular milk chocolate.

In the midst of my babbling, Hideyoshi puts his hand on my shoulder. “I understand you’re excited, but let the man show us what he has.”

The man thanks Hideyoshi and shows him the boxes of chocolate. The vendor doesn’t dare to look at me, worried that I’ll explode with my chocolate facts if I make eye contact with him. Jokes on him because I plan to go home and spend most of my time eating this delicacy.

“Wow, there’s a lot of sugar in these. Almost the same amount as konpeito,” Hideyoshi frowned.

My blood froze. Hideyoshi could not separate me from my beloved soulmate. He’s already a burden on the relationship of Nobunaga and his konpeito, I couldn’t let him do the same thing to me and my chocolate. He’d have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.

“Well I need the sugar in my body to keep me energized and functioning,” I snatch the bar from Hideyoshi and give the vendor a thick wad of money. “Take all of it. I want your entire collection of chocolate in return.” 

The man’s eyes gleam as he counts the amount of money that I handed him. He places the box on the ledge of the stall and shoos us away, probably so we don’t change our minds. 

“You know, this is a lot of sugar. If this becomes like Nobunaga and his konpeito, I might have to confiscate it,” Hideyoshi gives a suspicious glance to the box.

Ignoring him, I unwrap the chocolate bar and chomp off the top corner. The hard texture melts against the wet surface of my tongue with the sweet flavor diffusing across my tastebuds, coating the center of my tongue in milky brown. The chocolate piece has dissolved into a milky coating that travels down my throat, quenching me of my thirst for the delicacy. This is an experience I will never forget. I relish the taste of the heavenly delight as I take a second bite of the candy bar.

“Don’t eat too much of this. You could get a stomachache,” Hideyoshi interrupts my fantasy.

I shoot him a dirty look. “Alright, mother.”

I go back to cherishing my second bite, forgetting about anything that I said earlier. As I take my third bite, Hideyoshi steps closer towards me and leans in my face. “What did you just call me?”

“Uh, I don’t remember.”

“You just called me your mother! I am not your mother. Do I look like your mother to you?” He asks.

I manage to stifle my laughter. Hideyoshi is usually friendly and mature, so seeing him freak out over a small thing was hilarious. However, I couldn’t give him an honest answer because I know I’d burst out laughing, spitting my chocolate all over him. I didn’t want to embarrass the both of us, so I just shook my head. But the grin on my face gives away everything.

“Seriously? What makes me seem anything like a mother?” He puts his hands on his hips.

“For starters, that.” I mock him and put my hands on hips and purse my lips. “Secondly, you’re always watching out for us and cleaning up our messes. You scold the other warlords like they’re your children.”

“That’s because they always wreak havoc in the castle! If I don’t step up and ensure everything runs smoothly, then everything will fall apart.”

I take his hand and squeeze it. “And that’s why you’re so important in the structure of the palace. Don’t hate your motherliness, embrace it.”

Hideyoshi gives me a hard look and I felt laughter bubble in my stomach. It was a lot of fun messing with him. I almost feel bad about it, but I take the last bite of the chocolate to erase my guilty thoughts. However, Hideyoshi doesn’t look away. Instead, he squints his eyes and leans closer. I look up from my chocolate bar and nearly pulled back from the closeness between us. If this was his way of getting back at me for the mom jokes, it was totally working.

He brings his thumb to my lip and slides it down to my chin. The heat rushes to my cheeks and I am sure that my face is red. I pray to every deity in the universe that he can’t feel my heat from my chin, but the raised eyebrow on his face suggests otherwise. I could see the flecks of gold in his honey-colored eyes. The thought of my chocolate disappears as my chest grows tight. Why have chocolate when I could have something sweeter?

The warlord leans in closer, his head tilted down. His eyes are on my lips. My lips almost brush against his. His finger pressed against my chin, pulling my head towards him. His mouth parts slightly with a small curve forming. My entire body is screaming right now. Of all the things that could happen, I did not expect this. 

He removes his finger from my chin and makes soft motions with his finger, tracing the skin around my lips. Then, he steps back and examines his fingers. Melted chocolate stained his fingers. Hideyoshi places the finger in his mouth and looks around, tapping his foot on the ground. Meanwhile, I’m trying to collect my thoughts and calm down, placing my hands on my cheeks. 

Hideyoshi removes his finger from his mouth. “This is sweeter than konpeito. The other warlords are going to finish it in a matter of weeks.”

I would say something in defense of my candy,  but my brain has been reduced to mush. That type of behavior was normal from Masamune or Mitsuhide, but not Hideyoshi. He wasn’t that clueless (that title belonged to Mitsunari).

He turns towards me. “You don’t have anything to say?”

“Uh…………”

“Alright, but one last thing,” Hideyoshi hoists the box of chocolates over his shoulder.

“I can be many things, but your mother isn’t one of them.”

[futurewriter2000]

Choose hate?

Through my years of living on this Earth, I have, as an 19 year old student in high school, realized, I believe, more than a 45 year old man or woman ever have.

I shouldn't have realized those things. I am only 19 years old. But I did and I learned many moral and right teachings of life.

It cannot be explained because people hate. People hate no matter what you write and if I write what I want, there will be so many misunderstood comments. Because here's the thing. When I read this book, this amazing book published somewhere around 1950s I believe, this was what was written :

"Communication is in the same class with the elixir of life and the philosopher's stone. It just isn't. You can't explain yourself to anybody. Never in this world. Or why you do something. Or what makes you tick. You can't ever point to something that happened to you and say- There! That's me. Right in therr. See? Now do you understand? Because nobody's going to. " - William Goldman

But here's the problem. We try. We try so hard to explain ourselves to people that we don't even see how much energy we put in it. It exhausts us almost to the max.

And then we are hated. Hated for trying. Hated for trying to bring out our truest selves. Whoever we are or at least trying to be, we are hated.

And in my whole 19 year old life I have been so disgusted by the hate people give. Not only to people but to animals, nature, beliefs etc.

And sometimes even if it is to someone who has done another wrong. A big amount of wrong that makes you furious and you go: "I hope he dies a horrible death."

Why would you want him dead? What would that do good to you? Who will fix the wrongdoing of that another person?

We have been thought when we do something wrong, we are punished. Is death really a punishment? Is it? Old people crave death when they are stuck on the bed with nothing but tubes and diapers and already grieving people surrounding them. Bad people are terrfied of death. Some, some not. Hitler commited a suicide. Why? Ask yourself why did he do it? Was it because he craved death at 56 of age?

No,it's becuase when you're at your lowest, you look for death as a salvation for your problem. Death? It's beautiful. You're not that person anymore. You're gone. And if I use the same example what were jews and victims of Hitler's horror left with? - Hate. Hate towards him. Does he care? No. He's dead. Whether if it's in "heaven" or "hell" or whether if he was recairnated into a plant or an ant. Do people know? No.

When we are left with hate, what do we do with it? We put it on anybody who is close to us. Strangers? Acqaintances? Colleagues? Friends? Significant other? Family? Children?

We hold the hate inside and don't know where to put it, whom ti give it too. Because we don't want it. When we hate ourselves, it's easier to distract yourself on pointing flaws in somebody else.

"She's fat."

"Ugly bitch."

"Whore."

"Pervert."

"Faggot."

"Retard."

And what saddens me is that all of those are words with a meaning. Those aren't just insults, they are words with a meaning.

Worse part of this is, we use it on our own friends as a joke, as a greeting- and it has affected us and our way of speaking. We cuss and talk like those are the only words in our vocabulary. Why?

"She is overweight."

"Unattractive female dog."

"Prostitute."

"Deviant."

"Gay man."

"A sick person."

The synonims. You read the first ones, you know they are insults. You read the synonims, the tone is different.

So yes, the need to call somebody names is an urge when you are furious, hateful but know that you're not only insulting them, you're insulting those people who are those.

Is being overweight a bad thing? It's not heathy, that's all. And sometimes not even that. Perfect body, hiding your flaws, everything you have ever read about loving yourself. Even those quotes. If they are cheesy and lame and unoriginal, they are still true. People are different. Their metabolism is different. The construction of their bones can be strong or weak. Genetics is a thing. Dietary problems are a thing. It's not only unhealthy, for some people having the perfect body is unhealthy.

I don't understand. The way people use words to verbally assult other people. "You fucking pig." Pigs are smart. One of the smartest animals in the animal kingdom. And yeah, you can say that as a way to tell a disgusting person off or or tell it as bullying. Which is a thing not only in high schools, not only in work places and not only on the streets as you walk by but everywhere. Everywhere is happening the same thing. Hate.

So you can say awful about the people who murdered, raped, caused genocides, bombed etc. but when you spread hate like that, you're the one who is creating them.

Yes, I cuss. Yes, I hate. It's the nature of all beings. But there is a fine line of hating and terror.

People do it all the time. Terrorize other people because they want to be respected and praised. Because they don:t want to feel the way they do. And I pity those people for they can't see the other side of the solution.

Yes, it's sweet to taste but is it reliving you or is it making you crave for more?

I have been thought how to hate. Maybe not directly but it was there.

"You can't associate with the Serbian people." - "Why?" - "They killed our people in Srebrnica."

You mean I can't associate with the Serb who was not even born in 1995. Hate the person who wasn't the part of the massacre? I can't be friends? Be in love? Be all the things that are out of my controls? Just hate them?

"Never give a homeless man money. He'll just spend it on the alcohol or drugs. They are all frauds. He should go work instead. A person who needs money will work. "

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he'll buy himself food. Maybe he can't get a job. Medically. Maybe from the background of which he was a victim. All in the maybe.

"Don't dance with him." - "Why?" - "Are you blind or are you just pretending?"

Honestly, for someone who saw their own mother being terrorized by my father, who was good looking and still is, can say that character is the only beauty I seek for in my partner. Always.

"She's dumb. She keeps failing the tests."

Why? Lazy? Easy-going? Always sleeps? Or is it undiscovered learning disability? Or mental torturing problems at home? Or any other mental sickness?

How can you be so sure on who is what? How can you hate on someone by looking on them? You psychic? You God? No. So stop pretending like you are. Stop spreading hate because you can't stand the hate inside of you. The more you mix the shit, the more it smells.

It's not just the hate on coloured people tho I honestly don't see the difference between the meaning white and black as they are only different colours but still colours.

Colour, religion, beliefs, background, looks, disability, language barrier, accent, body shape, hair colour and even a birth mark on the wrong part of your body. Everything is hated.

It's like a sick joke. How can people not see it? - "There is only one race in the world. The human race." - my sociology teacher

I bleed. You bleed. I knife you, you die. Is money gonna save you? Will the word "bitch" save you? Will your pride? Your ego? Your all so high reputation? Or is it a doctor? Who could have been a homeless person you were so terrified of giving your money to because either you needed it more than him to buy cigars or alcohol or whatever you landed your eyes on. Well, he starved and froze to death. So he is not near.

That's how life works. Whether you spread hate, more hate grows inside and around you. Whether thats from people or life itself.

But love and peace, forgivness, generousity... When is the thought of that? When a bad day goes by and you curse it, you decide to hate it? Why not think of what good can you do to turn it to its contrast?

Funny thing is that you're not the only one going through it but we do sure love to feel like we are the only ones. Like the world has turned its back on us. The world doesn't have a back. It's a weird rock floating in a space, which nobody knows what that is. Like the sun. Sun is a rock that is on fire.

Why bug ourselves with questions and problems we have no solutions for? Why don't you do what you love? It's not impossible, you've just been thought that. But look how many other people proved you wrong. Television is now normal. Radio is normal. To us. To the ones who were born with it. To people decades ago? Nah. People did the impossible all throughout the history. Not because of spreading the hate, telling people off, insulting them verbally or physicaly cuz that doesn't help. It's becuase they threw their hate aside and decided on something much more lighter. Hope. Dreams. Ambition. Goals.

So, I'm 19 years old. I am overweight. I cuss. I don't believe in God but I'm a born Muslim with a Buddha statue in my room. My English is better than my mothertongue. My best friend is a Serb. I listen to also black people music even if I'm a white person. I sing to it to it. I'm still a virgin. I am not ashamed of who I am.

I know the why and you don't. So go ahead, judge me hate me. It's easy. Decide to hate but know that I don't give a shit. I'm going to listen Your Peace by Jacquees, talk to my Buddha and change into my shorts to show off my thick thighs during the winter. I think I'm going to turn into a hippie as well.

Peace and love.

[rkkyungsoo]

‹ red camellia. ›

group performance solo: shangri la - vixx {1:15 to 5:03} - line distribution

Five companies, five contestants in each team. Four companies were called and twenty hopefuls found their place for the semi-finals. One corner of Kyungsoo’s lips lifted in a bitter, but also knowing smile as he turned, his gaze met halfway by Suwoong’s dark eyes. Only one company team left and neither of their names were called. This means, ladies and gentlemen, that the Susoo cousin duo were selected to be in the same group. Kyungsoo wanted to be optimistic, but let’s not lie to ourselves - this was going to be the shit show of the year.

tw; anxiety, panic attack

Five minutes into the practice studio and Kyungsoo felt an incoming migraine. First of all, there were too many people in the room: the contestants and three whole coaches. Most of the contestants were excited about the coaches, with the most notable one being the youngest Eric. The kid was practically over the moon at the fact he was to be aided by his biases - the wonderful Luxe girls. Seolhyun was also supposed to be Kyungsoo’s bias from the bullshit he spewed during the audition when they asked about his music taste. He was aware he should at least try to look excited to see her, but all of the noises and contrasting smells in the room was making him want to throw himself out of the window.

Except they were not on the ground floor and he might actually break his legs. Can’t have that, can we, especially when he had to dance again! Oh joy, just when he thought his dancing days were over, fate laughed into his face and sent him straight back to hell.  

Little known fact about Kyungsoo, he’s always struggled with some social anxiety. Over the years, he’d improved exponentially to the point where it no longer affected his daily lives. In the MGA so far, Kyungsoo managed to glide by social situation without too much trouble, mostly because he had fewer people to work with and viewed the judges/audience as background whenever he was on the stage. This week, however, there was no escape. With eight units of breathing homosapiens in the room, the clamminess of his hands were really setting in.

in his moment of distraction, he did not even notice that Suwoong had come up behind him and was marching him towards one of the cameras. His cousin, using both of his index fingers, was pressing against Kyungsoo’s cheeks and forming his lips manually into a smile. Bewildered, Kyungsoo initially flailed until he heard Suwoong’s voice introducing him. He imitated Suwoong during one of the interviews and now the other was unknowingly returning the favour. To be fair, Kyungsoo thought his imitation of Suwoong was better because at least he tried while Suwoong just sounded like a baby.

Once Suwoong finished his poor mimic of Kyungsoo’s voice, he peeked out from behind him and said “I am Suwoong!” in his regular cheery voice. Forming Vs with his hands, he greeted the camera once again with enthusiasm. Kyungsoo, supposing he should do more than just stand there, offered an awkward smile (this time on his own) and stiffly brought up a ‘V’ finger sign of his own.

On that very first day of practice, Kyungsoo was almost glad for Suwoong’s presence. The other knew him, at the very least, and was able to realize when all of the voices was beginning to overwhelm him when they were making the song selection. Whether or not Suwoong shushed everyone on purpose, Kyungsoo did not know (okay fine, he was pretty sure Suwoong did it for him but a part of him didn’t want to acknowledge it!), but felt a wave of gratefulness nevertheless. Perhaps, he thought innocently at that time, it wouldn’t be so bad having his cousin in the same team. Maybe they could make it work and actually behave like supportive family members instead of rivals, you know, for the first time in their entire life.

It was wishful thinking and the very next day, they had their first argument.

It was Saturday and they had all the parts divided. Suwoong took liking to one of Kyungsoo’s parts, and thought he should be the one to do it. Kyungsoo, who had been mostly silent and focused on learning the choreo, looked up from the ground with a glint of resentment in his eyes. He already had the least amount of lines among the singers and now his cousin wanted to casually rob him of another? The coaches asked Suwoong to try out the part and Kyungsoo must admit, Suwoong looked good doing the movement. His cousin was tall, slender, too pretty for a guy and did ballet. Kyungsoo was a logical person and saw no point in denying his cousin’s visual impact.

Coach Cheri told them to fight for it, to prove to everyone who deserved it more. Kyungsoo, who had been sitting at that time, stood up and gently pushed his way into the centre of the room where Suwoong and Eric were standing. “I would like to keep my part,” he said, his voice not loud but firm. He didn’t need to raise his voice, though, because the room was quiet and people were respectfully giving him the attention. Perhaps a few of them were just shocked by the fact he so readily defended himself, since he barely spoke two sentences to anyone so far.

“I’ve proven that I can embody the dark, mysterious aura from my past performances and I won’t disappoint the audience with my voice.” Why give one of the most beautiful vocal parts to the dancer, just because he was nice to look at? “Please allow me to demonstrate.” With that, he stepped up, waiting for Suwoong to move away so he could take the place that should have been his in the first place. He performed, only those few seconds, keeping his voice clear throughout the line but also making sure that last word mysterious linger.

Coach Cheri directed her gaze towards her fellow Luxe member, Ella, and the latter decided Kyungsoo should keep the line.

He exhaled with relief, not realizing he even held his breath in the first place.

From there, the rift between him and Suwoong only widened. The dance choreo wasn’t impossible, but it was challenging. There was this one set of footwork that was more difficult than the others and Kyungsoo struggled in getting it right. As he had always been his own worst critic, Kyungsoo’s frustration level was already high before he noticed Suwoong’s eyes, watching him through the mirrors.

“Let’s start again from the beginning,” his cousin said, looking away. Kyungsoo knew what that look was for - it was an accusation. A silent why can’t you keep up? Indignation rose in his chest, only to be swiftly pushed down. Kyungsoo knew he wasn’t the best dancer, but to be fair, in this practice room, he was also not the worst. if he had to judge, he would say he was right in the middle - not nearly as good as the dancers but a bit better than the other vocalists. So why was Suwoong so dead set on making him miserable?

It wasn’t like his cousin was direct. No, it was actually quite the opposite. Suwoong was subtle with his critics, and all the while still using that annoyingly sweet nickname Kyungie. To a less observant pair of eyes, Suwoong’s comments may not seem directed at Kyungsoo at all, but they’ve grown up together and he knew how Suwoong thought and what his small behaviour changes meant. From the way coach Ella narrowed her eyes, he’d say she caught on as well.

Move that foot a little, Kyungie. We are not getting it, let’s try again. It looks sloppy, we have to start from the top.

Those seemingly general, yet so very pointed comments, along with his already overflowing frustration with himself eventually built up to an explosion, and it happened on Sunday morning.

Suwoong had made another one of those comments with a barely detectable trace of genuine irritation. Kyungsoo’s fingers clenched around the handle of his fan as all of the anger that he kept pent up erupted in his chest, coating his inside with scorching hot rage. Who the hell died and made Suwoong the boss of him? Who gave him the right to keep nitpicking on him like this even though he was neither the worst dancer nor slacking. He was trying to do it right and had never used the fact he was a better singer against his cousin in anyway. How was this fair?

Kyungsoo couldn’t move, and he couldn’t speak. Anger made him tighten his grip on that fan until he felt its wooden edge pressing into his palm. It actually hurt, but not nearly enough to distract him from Suwoong’s voice. His cousin had noticed that he was no longer moving and asked for them to re-start. Kyungsoo, however, remained stationary.

“Are you not taking this seriously, Kyungie?” Suwoong actually sounded annoyed this time and that nickname of affection never sounded more artificial.

“I’ve been here since 5AM every weekend morning and am always one of the last to leave. Just because I am not yet as good as you doesn’t mean I am not trying!” There were exams coming, so much homework that he needed to take care of. Since the start of this survival show, his grades were taking a hit. Kyungsoo, who had always cared so much about his academics, opted to turn in papers late so he could work to not disappoint those watching him. Dancing, it was really fucking hard. One of the hardest things he had to learn and he had so little time to get it right. As a prideful person who needed control over every aspect of his life, just being in this room and opening himself up for criticism hurt. Sometimes Kyungsoo wanted to shout out the window what am I doing here? Wasn’t it his dream to go into business and become a rich ceo? Their family had wealth and influence, a few cards in the right pocket and he’d be rolling in cash. Business, damn, he was good at that stuff too. So why was he here, doing things he wasn’t good at and was continuing to struggle with?

It was as if somehow, while exploring a whim, he discovered a dream. Possibly the dream. And it was breaking down all of his walls and re-shaping his carefully constructed life. It felt too wonderful to walk away from, but it was also sort of killing him.

Kyungsoo threw his fan - part of its paper surface damp with perspiration - onto the ground. It landed with a soft but also ominous thud. Someone had turned off the music and the other contestants were looking at each other as they took in the severity of the situation. “You tell me if I am taking this seriously or not.” He raised his voice for the first time in...forever. He was never the type to yell, especially in public setting. This was something new, even to himself.

“Let’s have a break, please,” he said, eyes lowered. It was as if yelling took away his anger and left him only with shame. He should be better than this, should have held it in better...what was happening to him? He walked out of the practice room and no one attempted to stop him. Ten minutes of cooling down in the bathroom later, he returned to find the studio mostly empty. Apparently, Suwoong, Heejin and Eric headed out for lunch and Hyojin disappeared off to the convenience store. Kyungsoo didn’t mind and instead, found himself appreciative of the silence.

He picked up his fan from the ground and sat down, his legs too exhausted after an entire morning of practice. Seconds ticked by and the once comforting silent became grating as his outburst earlier returned to haunt him. In an effort to distract himself, Kyungsoo decided to practice some of his arm movements. One of the most difficult parts of this entire choreo was fan control, how they must ensure the fans opened fully on beat. While trying to perfect this, they broke quite a few fans already and that number was only going to increase as the days went by.

He flicked his wrist and the fan opened half way. He tried the same movement except this time harder and the prop nearly flew from his hands. Slightly frustrated, Kyungsoo took a few breaths to calm himself before attempting again. He just needed to figure out exactly how much force he needed to put into his hand and-

There were warm fingertips against his skin and he flinched in response. It was coach Ella, who must have sneaked upon him while he was focused on his fan work. She seemed unfazed by his response and tried once again to help him manoeuvring the fan, telling him about how to position his hand to make things easier. Eventually, they got off of the floor and she started helping him with his other dance parts. Ella was surprisingly patient as he explained what he wanted to achieve - as dance wasn’t his best skill, Kyungsoo was less focused on giving extra flair and more concerned about doing his part perfectly, paying attention to every detail. So the woman gave him advice on how he should stretch out his hand out, point his fingers and not clench his fingers into fists to give that extension. She also coached him on a turn he has to do near the middle of the song, how he should use his long sleeves to his advantage to make himself look longer and more graceful.

They talked about his outburst and while she did reprimand him on the lack of professionalism associated with throwing down his fan, the idol also showed some sympathy with his situation. Upon learning that Suwoong was his cousin, she even shared about her own MGA experience with her family. Their conversation eased away some of Kyungsoo’s discomfort and as they worked, Ella even took a hold of his hands at some point to show him how it should be done properly. Up close, he must admit that she really was an attractive woman. A faint blush eventually swept across his features. Oh, how the Luxe fanboys must be screaming with envy right now.

His smile, though small, became genuine as he tapped into the flow of the dance after the tutorial session. When Hyojin returned to the studio and saw his relaxed expression, the other contestant was decidedly relieved and ran to his side like a happy doggo. Kyungsoo took the sandwich Hyojin bought for the two of them at the local convenience store and petted the other male gently on the shoulder with a ‘thank you’. Hyojin attempted to sooth him and tried to convince him to play nice with Suwoong, to which Kyungsoo responded with a nod.

His mood was improved for the rest of the Sunday afternoon, but the anger returned during his car ride with Suwoong. His cousin decided to call him insufferable and Kyungsoo fired straight back. He ended up having to pull over at the side walk and the two of them really let each other have it. The conversation ended with Suwoong ditching the car and walking out into the night. Kyungsoo, though still livid, recalled the fact his cousin was a dumbass used to being driven around. “Where the hell are you going?” He demanded, rolling down the window and driving along Suwoong, who was stomping away dramatically. “To the trains!” His cousin responded, to which Kyungsoo could only offer some serious eye rolling because the other was going in the wrong direction.

Somehow, this actually eased the tension between them. From their conversation, Kyungsoo had at least gather that Suwoong was more comfortable criticizing him because he was family and at the end of the day, they’d never be able to hate each other. “Get back in the car,” he called out with some gentle reluctance. Suwoong tried to give him the ‘hmph’ at first, but as soon as Kyungsoo actually turned the car around, he hopped straight in. Kyungsoo hated to admit this, but even though his cousin was super annoying, high maintenance and picky, he was also kind of cute.

The two of them made up Sunday night and Suwoong came up with some reputation repairing ideas. They grabbed coffee and doughnuts to bring for the Monday practice and offered their apology to the group. Funny thing was neither he nor Suwoong enjoyed doughnuts but it felt like the right thing to bring. Hyojin sensed this was a good opportunity for a heart-to-heart and everyone made a circle. He talked about the tension, even going back to last week and expressing how he felt about Taeyang being eliminated instead of him. Hyojin was open and honest in a way Kyungsoo would likely never be but those admirable traits likely contributed to his later success collaborating with Eric. It really seemed like the two were working out their differences, just like he did with Suwoong. After that, they were back to practice, full speed ahead.

On Wednesday night, the contestants provided the three coaches each a fan with some written comments and their signatures. It was a cute gift idea. Kyungsoo struggled to find the right words so instead, he just wrote ‘thanks for everything’ along with a little drawing of a camellia flower, which he shall represent on the stage. He had always been a man of fewer words, this was his best effort but hopefully the coaches would understand. They all helped him a lot - Cheri with the vocals, Ella with the dance and Won with his hair. Yes, hair was part of the performance and Kyungsoo wanted his hair to be bouncy and soft so it would react appropriately to the natural wind effect generated by their fans. Coach Won, bless him, sent him a picture of his shampoo bottle straight from his own shower upon Kyungsoo’s request.

The performance day came and the stage was more beautiful than ever. Dressed in their long, traditional robes and equipped with a fan, the group introduced themselves as Youths over Flowers. Each of them introduced themselves then with their real name and their flower representation. Kyungsoo chose for himself Camellia, because one of his lines mentioned a red camellia and he took quite a liking to the vivid imagery it created. “I am Do Kyungsoo, Camellia of Youths over Flowers. Camellia flowers symbolize faithfulness and I promise to always be loyal to my audience. Thank you, I love you.” Ahh, he said it and it was every bit as embarrassing as he expected. Thankfully, Kyungsoo had a fan to hide behind after he delivered the shameful mini speech. His fan, same colour as everyone else, had a camellia flower drawn on it. The same flower was sewn into the bottom of his robe with silver thread by a skilled seamstress they were able to find.

As everyone finished the introductions, ending with Suwoong’s cringy fest, it was finally time to get into position. They hauled Suwoong back towards the centre of the stage, so he could stop talking about how he intended to take everyone’s breath away. Once they were in their starting positions, however, all signs of fun and games were wiped from their expressions. This was semi-finals and they had a show to put on. Kyungsoo had a feeling, that despite their struggles this week, they were going to give the audience a performance they’ll remember for a long time.

Music started and a thin layer of fog covered the surface of the stage. The lights were dimmed, a soft red that was almost romantic. They moved as one, extending their arms and flicking their fans. There was a satisfying sound as their fans collectively turned into half moons, perfectly on beat. It was a seemingly simple movement that took an insane amount of practice to ensure synchronization.

Kyungsoo will admit, when he first realized they’ll be dancing with fans, he thought of geisha dancers and that idea made him slightly uncomfortable. It wasn’t like he did not appreciate the beautiful geisha or looked down upon their career, but it wasn’t a character he could fully embrace. So, he allowed his memories to roll back, recalling a story he once heard about a tyrant king. To dethrone the king and end his reign of terror, a group of skilled assassins were recruited. Knowing the king’s paranoid nature, they disguised themselves as dancers and put on an entrancing performance. Their beauty illuminated the night and the king was so seduced that he did not realize his life was in danger until the dagger was buried deep into his chest.

They hid their faces behind the fans and Kyungsoo did not know what imagery his teammates summoned for characterization but when he pulled back his fan to reveal his eyes, he was out to kill, just...in the sexiest way possible. Rolling onto one knee, Kyungsoo listened to Hyojin as he calmly opened up their song. Suwoong was the next to take centre as the rest of them dropped. Heejin appeared after, her voice clear and sweet, giving perfect entrance for their first and very brief rap part. After that, Kyungsoo got his first chance to be heard. They got into a line with Kyungsoo in front, he swished his fan as he sang, making his movements fluid and dramatic as his teammates did the same with theirs behind him.

낮과 밤이 전부 너야 빈틈 없이 꽉 채워

Eric joined him at the end of that line, boosting the vocal with a brief snippet of rap.

The next part of choreo had more difficult footwork, so Kyungsoo and Suwoong switched their parts from the original song and put Suwoong in the front so he could shine as a dancer.  

His next part came when they formed a straight line across the stage. Kyungsoo turned to face the audience, gently tossing the right corner of his robe as he moved so the fabric swayed in the air.

밤의 안부에 널 닮은 붉은 동백이질투해

The fan, which had been pointed upwards in the air, became a half moon with a single flick of his wrist as it was brought, after a few swirls, to the front of his face. Kyungsoo smiled, but there was no moment to linger as they collectively turned with the exception of Suwoong, who moved towards the centre of the stage from the right, only to give it to Eric as the rap part came. Kyungsoo must say he was very impressed with Eric. They had perhaps only one or two rap lines in this song but were mostly singers or dancers. If their 15-years-old powerhouse didn’t step up, perhaps they would have to crop the parts out and miss out on that beautiful rap-singing contrast. Kyungsoo thought the kid did very well.

As soon as Eric’s part finished, Kyungsoo’s began:

일렁이는 내 맘도 낮과 밤이 전부 너야

This was the part where he had to raise his arms and spin. He practised this with Ella specifically, remember her tips on extending his arms and using the loose fabric of his sleeves to add to the illusion of height. This part was...slightly feminine, but they were at the point of go big or go home, and Kyungsoo practised this part too many times to still feel embarrassed about sliding a hand almost sensually down the side of his face and neck.  

The chorus came once again and same as before, Kyungsoo switched places with Suwoong so his cousin could dance closer to the front of the stage. Hyojin started the chorus and Heejin finished it, giving Suwoong his time to show his vocal capabilities (which had vastly improved over the week) as they took the choreo to the floor. Hyojin went into the centre, raised his hand and sang with passion, which was Kyungsoo’s cue to get back into the centre, where he sang his lines and rested his head against Eric’s shoulder. The fluid movement almost reminded pleasantly him of his dance performance with Hyunggu a while ago.

신비로워 아름답고 따뜻했고

This was the part he fought for and he intended to make the most out of it, especially the half a second of pause he and Eric get at the end of their partially joined line. Kyungsoo looked towards the audience - the actual live audience, full of anticipation. He raised a brow as a corner of his lips tilted in a teasing smile. It was an expression that hopefully said you have no idea what’s coming.

Because they didn’t.

The stage suddenly became darker and the great wafts of fog which had disappeared after their song intro returned with vengeance. The light was blue instead of red, almost giving that day turned to night vibe as they danced. Kyungsoo and Suwoong switched places seamlessly, using the dim lighting to their advantage. Some of them jumped while others still did the full spin and gave the illusion of a jump. Their robes flowed and it was as if Youths Over Flowers were turning into fans themselves in the mysterious indigo light. They brought their hands to their lips, gave a light shh as if warning their potentially shocked audience to hold back those gasps because it wasn’t over.

The dance break itself wasn’t exactly technical, but it was very eye catching.

When the blue light faded and the stage was bright again, Heejin’s high note pierced through the air and each of the singers got a line before the song came to an end.

단 하나 너만 알아 찾아 헤맨 그곳 바로 너야

They posed, again as one to the beat of the final few notes. Then, before the stage darkened, they turned around and once more, flicked their fans out in perfect synchronization. That sound of fans opening, very similar to the one the audience would have heard in the beginning of the song, marked the end of their performance.

They thanked the judges and the live audience. Kyungsoo reached behind his back and tugged discreetly on Suwoong’s sleeve. “Good job,” he mouthed. That was his favourite stage to date and he felt, at least, that it was worth all of his efforts.

@rksuwoong, @ericxrk, @hyojinrk, @rkheejin, @rkwon, @rkcheri & @rkella

[vfdarkness]

A Voice From Darkness - Ep2 - Do Not Ask Questions

Below is a transcript for the second episode of our horror & dark fantasy audiodrama. You can listen to it on Apple, Google Play, wherever you normally listen to podcasts or here. 

INTRO

Dark ambient drone.

RYDER

You are in your bedroom late at night. You hear your child call out for help. You rush down the hall only to find two versions of your child. You're unsure which is the true one - and which the imposter.

A beat.

RYDER

You need my help.

DARK AMBIENT DRONE CHANGES TO:

INTRO MUSIC

RYDER

This is A Voice From Darkness.

Intro music continues, but gradually fades out.

ACT I

RYDER

Hello, this is Dr. Malcolm Ryder, parapsychologist. As always, If you're experiencing anything supernatural, paranormal, unexplainable in anyway. Please call in. I'm here - to help.

A beat.

RYDER

While we wait for a call to come in, I have to say, it is a gorgeous evening in Chicago. On my way into the studio I got off the brownline two stops early and walked the rest of the way. Oh, and we have a call on the line. Let's patch them through. Hello caller, you're on the air. Tell us your name and the nature of the otherworldly situation you find yourself in.

All of Rachel's dialogue has the SFX of coming through a phone.

RACHEL

(frantic)

Rachel. Rachel. My name's Rachel. There's people in my car. There weren't any before, but then they - they appeared. What do I do - what - what...

RYDER

(interrupts)

What part of the country are you in?

RACHEL

They don't... they don't look human. Their faces... they're long. Pale. Their eyes. Oh my god, their eyes...

RYDER

(interrupts)

What part of the country are you in?

RACHEL

Wyoming. Why does that matter?

There's an unfriendly teeth chattering/clicking sound through the phone - followed by a gasp from Rachel.

RYDER

Listen to me carefully. Do not ask questions. Do not stop driving. Do not say another word unless answering a question from me.

A beat.

RYDER

In your car are the Unwelcome Riders. You're on I-80, correct?

No response.

RYDER

Rachel, you can answer my question.

RACHEL

Yes. Yes I am.

RYDER

And you went through the Green River Tunnel.

That's when they appeared in your car - as you exited the tunnel.

RACHEL

I went through a tunnel. I don't know the name of it.

RYDER

It's the Green River Tunnel. The Unwelcome Riders - they appear in traveler's vehicles. Mostly people who are alone.

RACHEL

I am alone. I was alone. I'm moving across the country - to Chicago. Your city. I got a job offer there. Will - will I make it?

There's a chattering sound through the phone.

RYDER

Do not ask questions. If you ask questions, they will... well, let's not talk about that. But yes, Rachel. If you listen to me, do as I say, you will make it to Chicago. It's a beautiful night tonight - you heard me say that earlier? It's going to be beautiful all week long. We'll get you here safe and you can see it for yourself.

RACHEL

I'd like that.

The chattering of The Unwelcome Riders continues.

RACHEL

They're all - they're all making noises.

RYDER

Yes, I can hear them. You're lucky. There're eight "families" of Unwelcome Riders - at least that we know of. The ones in your car - the Green River Tunnel Family - is one of the least likely to... to follow through with their ritual.

RACHEL

What's there-

RYDER

(interrupts)

Do. Not. Ask. Questions. Do not ask questions. Do not exit the road you're on - until I tell you to. If you do either of these things...

A beat.

RYDER

You're unlikely to make it to Chicago. Do you understand?

RACHEL

Yes. But... how do I...

She stops herself.

RACHEL

Tell me under what conditions they'll leave my car.

RYDER

A little over twenty miles from the Green River Tunnel is a tourist attraction called Little America. Have you seen signs? How far away are you?

RACHEL

I just past a sign, it's ten miles away.

RYDER

Good. Drive there. Park your car at the tourist stop. It doesn't matter if it's open or closed.

Rachel shudders.

RACHEL

One of them. One of the ones in the back is stroking my hair. What do I...

She stops herself from asking the question.

RACHEL

Tell me what to do to get it to stop.

RYDER

I - I don't know. I don't recall any of them exhibiting that behavior before.

Ryder pulls out a book and frantically flips through pages.

RYDER

Give me a minute. I have written accounts in front of me. All known incidents involving the Unwelcome Riders.

RACHEL

(crying)

My hair. My hair is falling out. When... when it touches me, it's like my hair and skin are dying.

RYDER

Give me a minute, Rachel. Let's go to Today in Odd America while I review my research.

TODAY IN ODD AMERICA

TIOA music plays.

RYDER

Today in Odd America we find ourselves in Delton, Nebraska. The year, 2010. Delton, like many rural Midwestern towns was dying. The young fled for bigger cities. Half the town was unemployed. The other half on disability. Or drug addicts. The community was in a state of despair.

A beat.

RYDER

Until a Stranger came to town.

A beat.

RYDER

Yes, you've heard those words on this show before - and they nearly always denote the arrival of The Traveling Salesman. And this story - the story of Delton, Nebraska - is the last known sighting of that dark dealmaker.

A beat.

RYDER

The people of Delton gathered in their town hall. They were told a man arrived who had jobs - jobs for everyone who wanted one. Well-paying jobs. The people of Delton liked this man. He stood before them in their hall - He was handsome, but not in the way of a Hollywood star. He wore a grey suit, but nothing too fancy. However he was missing his left ring finger. The people of Delton did not know that this was a tell-tale sign - a warning - that the man who stood before them was no man at all... but The Traveling Salesman. A monster if ever there was one.

A beat.

RYDER

The Traveling Salesman told Delton that he represented a company - that company's name, I do not know - but the company he told them - had made a wondrous technological breakthrough. One that would change the way Americans worked forever. And they wanted to start with the town of Delton. "How would you all like to work in your sleep?" The Traveling Salesman asked. "No fooling," he said. "With our technology, we can put you to work in your bed at night. Come work for us in your dreams, get paid, and have your waking hours all to yourself."

A beat.

RYDER

It sounded too good to be true. And of course it was.

A beat.

RYDER

Those who agreed to The Traveling Salesman's deal - most of the town I'm afraid to say - dreamed that night of a scarcely-lit concrete warehouse. Above, from the second story, they saw windows looking down on the warehouse floor. Frosted glass windows. From behind, could be seen the silhouette of a gigantic creature - with the abdomen and thorax of a spider. But impossibly long human arms. And its heads. Its heads in a shape like nothing the people of Delton had ever seen before.  The dream-workers performed the same monotonous task all throughout the night - filling a black sand into cardboard boxes, sealing the boxes shut, and placing them on a conveyor belt. The boxes disappeared from the factory.

A beat.

RYDER

When the dream-workers awoke, they were exhausted. They experienced no rest from their sleep. And so, during the day, they'd attempt to sleep again. But they found themselves right back in the same concrete warehouse. Working another shift.

A beat.

RYDER

The Traveling Salesman had stayed in town to encourage others to accept his offer. Many of the dream-workers went to him, begged him to let them quit. They wanted their sleep back. No amount of money was worth what they'd bargained away. The Traveling Salesman told them - sorry, but he wasn't their boss. Their boss could be found in their dreams, behind the frosted glass of the second floor. If they desired to quit, they merely had to go tell the creature there they wished to.

A beat.

RYDER

None quit. Soon after, all the dream-workers of Delton died from exhaustion. The Traveling Salesman disappeared. As he always does. He has not been seen since. The town of Delton is no more. Where its buildings and streets once stood - there is now only black sand.

A beat.

RYDER

If you see a handsome man who wears a grey suit and offers you a deal too good to be true, remember to look at his left hand. Look at his ring finger. If it is missing, turn his deal down, and run from him. That is the only way to possibly survive The Traveling Salesman.

A beat.

RYDER

This has been Today in Odd America.

ACT II

RYDER

Rachel, are you still there?

RACHEL

Yes.

RYDER

I found a case - similar to yours - with the hair stroking. Normally, if one encounters the Green River Tunnel Family, they simply park their car at Little America and wait thirteen minutes. The Unwelcome Riders then disappear from the vehicle. In this case though...

A beat.

RYDER

I'm afraid you'll need to do a bit more.

RACHEL

Anything. Anything to get through this.

RYDER

How far are you from Little America?

RACHEL

I'm almost at the exit.

RYDER

Good. Go there. Park in one of the odd numbered spots in front of the hotel.

RACHEL

What if there aren't any-

(interrupted)

RYDER

We'll worry about that if it happens. But not before then.

We hear the car driving, the turn signal to indicate the car is taking the exit.

RYDER

Do you have something sharp on you? Something you could stab or cut with?

RACHEL

Do I need to stab or cut them?

Angry Chattering. Rachel screams.

RACHEL

The one behind me. It ripped out a chunk of my hair.

RYDER

You asked a question. They don't like questions. Do you have a knife or something sharp?

RACHEL

I think I have a box cutter in the glove box.

RYDER

When you park, you'll need it.

RACHEL

But one of them - one of them is sitting in front of it. How do I -

(stops herself)

I won't be able to get the box cutter without reaching across the... the Unwelcome Rider - the one in the front passenger seat.

RYDER

You'll have to reach across and open the glove box.

RACHEL

I'm parking. Parking in spot number three.

We hear the car slowing, breaking. The car shifted into park.

RYDER

Good. They'll like that number. Get your box cutter.

We hear Rachel's heavy breathing as she slowly reaches across the creature.

She opens the glove box. She moves things around inside.

And grabs the box cutter.

She slams the glove box shut again.

RACHEL

I have it. I have it. It didn't stop me from getting it or touch me or anything.

RYDER

Listen now - you need to open the box cutter - get the blade out. And you need to - you need to cut yourself. Across the palm of your hand. Make an X on the palm of your hand. So two cuts. Neither of them can be shallow. You must bleed.

RACHEL

I can't. I can't. You didn't tell me I'd have to do that.

RYDER

If you don't do that. If you don't follow the instructions I give you - you will disappear. The Unwelcome Riders will take you with them. Where to - I have no idea. Anyone who's been abducted by them - any of the families - has never returned. You must do this if you want to make it to Chicago.

Rachel winces.

RACHEL

I - I did it. I cut myself. There's a bloody X on my right hand. Is that it?

Angry chattering.

Rachel screams.

The chattering and scream fade away.

RYDER

Rachel? Rachel? Are you still there?

A beat.

RYDER

Rachel?

A beat.

RYDER

(underbreath)

You were so close. So close. Why did you ask another question? Why did you ask so many questions? You could have... you could have made it. You almost did.

A long pause.

RYDER

(exhausted)

That's all for this evening. Please - if you're having any problems that are... supernatural. Paranormal. Call-in next time. On A Voice From Darkness.

Outro Music.

[scanlonblogs]

5 Tips for Bodily Maintenance

    Our quality of life decreases the moment we stop taking care of ourselves.  We need to remember to maintain our bodies so we can function properly and enjoy life.  Sometimes, this can seem difficult, but it is not impossible.  Here are 5tips for bodily maintenance.

1. Exercise Regularly

    The benefits of exercise outshine whatever reasons people may have not to exercise.  Not only does physical activity provide an energy boost, but you feel great afterward.  It is a confidence booster, especially when sticking to a routine and beginning to see your body change.  Exercise is also a way to improve your productivity through various means including; getting up early, increased motivation, and sticking to a routine.  These are all skills that can be applied to projects outside of exercise.

    Exercise does not take long to perform either.  Most people go to the gym and work out for an hour or less.  A single hour to look great, have more energy and feel productive.  I highly recommend working out either in the early morning or after work.  Doing so early in the morning will allow you to get the exercise out of the way to enjoy the rest of the day.  Early morning exercise also aids in building a routine where you get up early and are productive before the majority of the population.  Lastly, the energy boost received is something coffee can hardly keep up with.

    Exercising in the afternoon, something I am accustomed to helps in reenergizing yourself after a long day’s work.  This can be beneficial if you are someone who sits in an office all day.  One hour of exercise or less can get rid of the groggy feeling people get after work and make relaxation feel more like a reward.  The energy gained can also be used to work on projects you may have been putting off; housework, personal projects, goals, etc.  Also, you will have a more restful sleep because of how exhausted you will feel come bedtime.  No matter what routine you choose, as long as you are exercising, the benefits will reveal themselves, and you will thank yourself later.

2. Medical & Dental Upkeep

    People tend to put their medical and dental appointments on the backburner.  Usually, this is because life happens and other responsibilities arise.  Other times, people forget to go or make an appointment.  Either way, this can mean a person can go months, or even years, without getting checkups.  This can be concerning as some people may contract an illness or dental problems which, if left unchecked, can be cause for greater concern down the road.  It is best to maintain a bi-annual schedule of checkups.  Doing so will give you peace of mind when it comes to your health, and any problems that arise can be found and dealt with in its infancy.

3. Healthier Eating Habits

    Healthy eating habits allow people to stop relying on food for comfort and give a sense of control.  Some people eat when they are bored, feeling depressed, or had a stressful day at work.  Depending on the situation, this behavior can be understood.  The problem is people continuously rely on this food to provide them comfort, almost like a drug.  Unhealthy foods, such as pizza and cookies, become a staple in households for this reason.  This can lead to mental and physical health problems.  Physically, a person can gain weight, have an increased chance of various diseases due to their unhealthy diet, and have less energy to perform daily tasks.  Mentally, people may feel like they are not in control of themselves, have a lack of motivation to do anything, and even have increased anxiety and depression, something they were trying to avoid through food.

    Adopting healthier eating habits is not as difficult as people would have you believe, especially when it is coupled with exercise.  For example, people believe they need to give up the foods they love and start eating bland, boring, and/or unsatisfying foods.  The truth is, people can eat whatever they want as long as it is coupled with moderation.  Enjoy a slice of pie, but do not have one every day.  More so, healthy foods considered bland and boring can be paired with other foods for a more exciting result.  For example, broccoli on its own can be boring but coupled with other food items, such as chicken and rice, it creates a healthy and more appetizing meal.

    People also have trouble adopting healthier eating habits because they do not believe healthy can be delicious.  There are many different foods that are just as pleasant as an unhealthy option.  Personally, I have a banana with plain yogurt and nuts for breakfast almost every day.  The plain yogurt has no flavor, but with the nuts and banana thrown in it is like a healthy version of ice cream.  Almond milk is a great substitute for regular milk which contains large amounts of sugar.  There are also flavored versions if you would not enjoy the plain version.  Skinless chicken is great when mixed with brown rice and a vegetable.  If you have trouble finding foods like this, do a quick Google search, or watch YouTube videos to find other healthy alternatives.

4. Drink Plenty of Water

    Staying hydrated is just as important as eating regularly.  However, a person can go weeks without food whereas humans can only go three days without water.  60% of the human body is composed of water.  Our cells need it to function properly and regulate our bodily functions.  When we do not drink enough water, we can become lightheaded, are unable to think straight, and can feel week or sickly.  We can also experience lower energy levels.  It is recommended to drink at least eight cups of water per day.  This can change depending on the situation.  I once experienced a woman faint in a restaurant after being in the sun for a long period of time.  She did not drink water afterward to keep herself hydrated.  It can be easy for dehydration to go under the radar, which is why it is important to drink water throughout the day.  Try to always have a water bottle or water source handy for instances such as this.  All in all, do your best to drink water whenever possible.  Make time to ensure you are healthy and your body functioning properly.

5. Get Enough Sleep

    It is recommended to sleep seven to eight hours per night.  Try your best to obtain that amount as it is beneficial to one’s health.  Sleep allows our bodies to rest and recover.  Getting enough sleep will ensure that we can focus better, are able to think clearly, and have an increased sense of motivation and productivity.  Sleep also can prevent diseases, such as Alzheimer’s from occurring.  We also have more energy and will feel less sluggish throughout the day.  Happy, healthy, and ready to take on the world is the type of person you want to be right?  Well, get some sleep and see what happens!

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Today’s Song of the Blog is ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams!

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[kdenbibi]

Ya Rouhi

Authors note: “(H/n)” stands for hero name. My hand slipped and I wrote an angsty dami fic no one asked for lol if y’all want a part 2 let me know//??////////?//////??////?/ also i used google translate for the Arabic so forgive me if theres any mistakes, Ya Rouhi should translate to “You are my soul.” 

Warnings: A N G S T Y as heck, blood, and violence, swearing

Summery: You have bad timing.

He had contingency plans for everyone on the team, back ups for his back ups and his glorified fanny pack of a belt had nearly everything one would need in case of emergency, the family business only went so well because of the almost concerning amount of planning that went into every patrol and every mission.

He prided himself on being ready for anything life threw his way.

So why didn't he see this coming?

Your mission was supposed to be simple, boring even, you were tasked with Terra to investigate a suspected gang hide out.

You bid everyone a casual goodbye, your eyes lingering on Damian's longer than the rest, it caused the corners of his mouth to twitch upwards.

"See you around pretty bird." He nodded biting back a grin, turning and going to the monitor room to be your look out for the mission.

At this point no one questioned why he happened to be look out every time you went on a mission without him, they were too scared of his reaction but they knew, something was definitely going on between the grumpy boy and yourself.

This unspoken thing between the two of you was understood throughout the team, anyone who looked at the two of you together could pratically see the love you had for each other rolling off of you in waves, which would be the first step to your downfall.

A few hours after you headed out with the newest Titan, Damian checked in for a status update.

"(h/n) report? Any signs of the gang?" He'd never admit it out loud but he was obviously nervous anytime you had to go on a mission without him, it's not that he doubted your abilities but he always felt better if he was there to have your back.

After a few tense moments the com cracked to life lifting a weight off his shoulders.

"Negative Robin, so far it's just this weird warehouse and a whole lot of dust."

"Me and Terra are going to split up, she'll sweep around outside and I guess I'll- wait hold on I think I found something." Damian leaned on the edge of his seat waiting for more information.

"Be careful (h/n)." He spoke trying not to sound as concerned as he was.

"Don't worry about me R, I'm a big girl I can handle myself- sides' if I don't come home who's gonna put up with you?"

Damian felt himself smiling before he cleared his throat and responded.

"Any sign of activity?"

"That's the weird part, this place is more ghost town than it is active gang hide out- where'd we get that tip anyway?"

"It was anonymous ." I answered, the gut feeling that something wasn't right crawled into my mind. "Do one more walk around then head back-" your voice suddenly interrupted him.

"Just out of curiosity, on the blue prints for this building did it mention anything about a super creepy elevator leading down to an equally creepy high tech lab?"

"No-"

"Okay then, either this gang is selling something other than weed or we got a problem on our- "

The line was suddenly overtaken by static, which caused the young Wayne's eyes to go wide, they were on one of the most advanced systems in the world there shouldn't- no couldn't have been interference that bad.

Unless someone sabotaged your equipment.

"(N/n) get out of there now, this is bigger than you, I repeat grab Terra and retreat now- wait for back up." At this point he'd left the desk he was sitting at and began to dress himself in his gear. After another thirty minutes of trying to reach you he prepared the team for a rescue mission, they all gathered in the monitor room to play back your audio transmission in case they came across anything.

"Are we clear on the plan? I'll take the-"

"Damian."

Your voice spoke out so suddenly, taking everyone in the room by surprise, the screen flickered to life showing your bruised and bloodied face.

"Hey." You called giving your team a bloody crooked grin.

He stared at the screen in disbelief.

"(h/n)?"

"Damian I don't have much time." You wheezed out struggling in vain against the tight rope that had you bound.

"What the hell is going on (Y/n)?! Where is Terra? Who attacked you?!" He yelled, hands clenched so tight they began to hurt. The team watched on in silence and fear.

Instead of answering you swallowed thickly and glanced off screen, soon a figure walked on screen to gently pet your head.

"I'm glad you could join us baby bird, me and (Y/n) here have just been getting to know each other, she's a sweet girl, I see why she caught your eye."

Deathstroke's unmistakable voice called out from the screen.

Damian's blood ran cold.

"You picked a firecracker I'll tell you that much." He said rubbing his jaw where a crack in his mask had began to form no doubt from your famous right hook.

"Slade if you touch her again I'll send you to hell myself."

This earned a deep chuckle from the man as he walked towards the camera.

"You'll what? Throw me in jail? Let's not kid ourselves here runt, you've lost your edge, all that hard work and for what? You to go soft." He slowly made his way to your crumpled form.

Yanking you upwards by your hair he bared your throat only to casually press a knife to the soft skin.

"You're weak Damian, you can't hope to save anyone let alone her."

Damian began to panic even more, he knew Slade could end you with a flick of his wrist right now, no matter how much he wanted to lash out he had to play his game until he came up with a plan.

"This is a personal matter between me and the runt, would you mind giving us some privacy?" He spoke to the rest of the team who ahd gathered around the screen.

They all shared a look, knowing it was best to listen to them they silently left the room.

All Damain could do was nod his head, never in his life had he felt this helpless.

"I will admit this kid has some guts, wouldn't tell me anything even when I started cutting away at her."

"What do you want?" Damian asked, voice deadly calm. His chest heaved in ragged breaths at he switched from looking at Slade to the knife.

"Everything she knows about the Titans."

This earned a laugh from your broken from,

"Never gonna happen asshole."

Slade quickly threw you to the floor, chair and all, before swiftly kicking you into the wall.

"-As you can see, she's more stubborn than you, so I'm switching tactics."

"I want personal records of everyone on the team delivered to this location in thirty minutes, just you, no back up, no bats."

"Okay, let her go, I'll have them on a drive for you as soon as I know she's safe." Damian spoke without missing a beat. A part of him was ashamed for folding so soon, but his fear was making rationalizing impossible.

A deep rumble of a laugh left the assassin's mouth.

"Looks like you're not a big an idiot as they say." He walked off screen once more only to come back with a timer.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, though if I were you I'd hurry up, your girlfriend here won't last much longer."

Damian went to work typing at the computer, pulling up his friends files and information, he didn't know what the timer was counting down too but it didn't take much imagination to know when it got to zero you'd be out of time.

Slade appeared to have left because you shot up like a bullet. Apparently his last kick sent you crashing so hard the chair you were strapped to broke, giving you a chance.

"That dickhead sure packs a punch."

"Don't worry I'm going to fix this-"

"It's pointless Damian don't do it."

His head snapped up to glare at you before he continued typing.

"Shut up, I'll give him the information, save you then get it back before he knows what hit him, I just need you to stay awake for me can you do that beloved?"

A goofy grin found its way on your bruised face as you got closer to the screen.

"You called me beloved."

"Yes, I'm going to be calling you that for the rest of our days because you're getting out of this you understand me? This is going to be a story you tell our kids."

"Now we have kids? You haven't even taken me to dinner."

He looked away from his task to give you the best half of a smile he could manage.

"Yet."

Your smile fell as you looked off screen to take in your surroundings.

"Dami stop."

"No I can do this I just need to concentrate."

"Damian please." Your voice was stern, despite your shaking form.

"The elevators down, I got a useless leg and even if i somehow managed to make it up all those stairs-" His typing finally stopped as he looked at you.

"Look I'm no Batman but I'm pretty sure this place is rigged to blow." You spoke glancing at the timer with a look he couldn't pin down.

 Fear, anxiety, acceptance.

"Don't come- I know what you're thinking but there isn't a way out this time." Your voice cracked as you stared at his face through the gritty camera .

"This was never about information, he wanted you to come here so you'd be killed too."

"Stop talking as if you're already dead!" He yelled trying to hold back his own tears.

"I can do it..." He spoke in a broken voice trying his best to think of a way out.

"This isn't on you Dami you hear me?" You spoke through your tears completly ignoring him.

"I love you- and I know I have the worst timing ever and these are kinda shitty last words but I'm freaking out a little and I know it's selfish to ask but please stay here- with me."

He looked up from the floor to meet your eye.

"Ya Rouhi." He spoke in his mother tongue, and you didn't know Arabic but you didn't need to, to know he felt the same.

Seconds felt like hours as your screen began to shake, alarms wailed in the distance as whatever device Slade had set began to go off throughout the building.

Your hair fell loosely around your head, the blood and dirt caked on your skin did nothing to hide your beauty, now with tear stained eyes you managed to look like star. You graced him with a smile, never looking away from him, despite the growing destruction around you.

You opened your mouth to say something, what that was he'll never know, because in an instant the screen went black. 

A lost connection logo blinked at his still form.

Everything and nothing ran through his mind all at once.

He felt his knees hit the floor. Ice spread through his chest as he tried to move, to go to you, to tell someone, to do something-

But the ice in his veins had settled, and the light in his eyes was gone.

[justbeingnamaste]

911 17th Anniversary: 17 Unanswered Questions !

As the 911 17th anniversary approaches,

it is worth casting our minds back to that “catastrophic and catalyzing event”, that new Pearl Harbor (in the words of the PNAC neocons), which has cemented the false idea of a War on Terror into the public mind. More and more researchers and facts have emerged since the first few years after the event. Thanks to the work of people like Dr. Judy Wood and Rebekah Roth, we now have a very good idea of the how and who behind the biggest false flag attack in world history. Below are 17 unanswered questions designed to briefly reacquaint you with the shocking anomalies, inconsistencies and holes in the official narrative during this 911 17th anniversary.

1. If Osama bin Laden was the mastermind of 9/11, why was he never formally charged with the crime?

Guess the FBI just plain old forgot or were too busy conducting sting operations (foiling terror plots they themselves orchestrated) to actually charge bin Laden with the grandest crime in history. By the way, what were representatives from the Bush family (ex-CIA chief and President George H. W.) doing meeting with representatives from the bin Ladens (Shafig bin Laden, brother of Osama) the day before 9/11 in New York Ritz-Carlton Hotel? How did everyone seem to know it was bin Laden before the dust had even settled, e.g. former Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak speaking on the BBC only 1 hour after the attacks?

2. Why did Netanyahu say 9/11 was “very good for Israel”?

The New York Times quoted Netanyahu as saying: “”It’s very good.” Then he edited himself: ”Well, not very good, but it will generate immediate sympathy.”” Netanyahu was quoted elsewhere as saying, “We are benefiting from one thing, and that is the attack on the Twin Towers and Pentagon, and the American struggle in Iraq,” and that the 9/11 event “swung American public opinion in our favor.”

3. Why did 5 Israeli “art students” (i.e. intelligence agents) celebrate by loudly dancing and cheering on a nearby rooftop and thereby attracting attention?

These same “art students” stated to the police: “We are Israeli. We are not your problem. Your problems are our problems. The Palestinians are the problem.” They also claimed in a TV interview that they were there “to document the event”!

911 17th anniversary: this mural was painted on the Urban Moving Systems van before 9/11/01.

4. Why did the Israeli company Urban Moving Systems have a mural of a plane crashing into the Twin Towers painted on its side (remember, it must have been painted before the 9/11 attacks)?

This was the same van associated with the 5 Mossad “art students” …

5. Why did the BBC announce Building 7 had been demolished before it actually had?

Someone went off script and jumped the gun with that report …

6. Why were the 9/11 planes so light that day (carrying a total of 260 passengers in 4 planes instead of the more normal 800 passengers)?

Just a coincidence, right?

7. How could any emergency calls (either by passengers or flight attendants) have been placed from the air when cell phones don’t work in the air?

Rebekah Roth was a former flight attendant herself who caught some of the 9/11 flight attendants in a lie. One of them stated she was on the phone for 27 minutes! Another one stated that the hijackers had sprayed pepper spray (or mace) just in business class, but this is impossible because it would circulate all throughout the plane.

8. Why did there just happen to be

46 drills on the day of 9/11

to confuse everyone? 9. If Mohammad Atta and his team of hijackers were waging a holy war/jihad against the US according to their strict Islamic faith, why were they seen gambling, drinking alcohol, eating pork, smoking cocaine and using hookers in the leadup to the 9/11 false flag attack? 10. Why did NORAD, ultimately commanded by then VP, PNAC member and neocon Dick Cheney,

give the order to “stand down”

when the US was under attack? 11. Is it just a coincidence that then Secretary of Defense, PNAC member and neocon Donald Rumsfeld announced that the Pentagon/DoD couldn’t account for US$2.3 trillion the day before 9/11 happened, thus putting this astonishing fact down the memory hole? 12. Why did NYC mayor Rudy Giuliani immediately ship the fallen metal to China and India, thus destroying the evidence?

According to Dr. Steven Jones, only 250 pieces of structural steel were saved for analysis out of 200,000 tons!

13. Why did then President

George W. Bush

continue to read a kids’ book, upside down, to a classroom of children right after he was told the first WTC tower had been struck?

By the way, do you think it’s a just a coincidence that the kids were reciting these 5 words for their lesson right then: KITE, HIT, STEEL, PLANE, MUST?

14. Why did

Bush tell a public meeting

that he saw the first plane strike the WTC and said “There’s one terrible pilot” when video footage shows he was in the classroom not watching a TV at that time? 15. Why did the Israeli company Zim Shipping mysteriously

vacate their WTC lease just a week before 9/11

and incur a $50,000 fine to do so? 16. If 9/11 was carried out by 19 Kamikaze Arabs and with the help of no States, was did Saudi Arabia threaten the US when Congress was considering releasing the “28 pages”?

And why does the troika of Israel, Saudi Arabia and the US continue to work together, e.g. as in subsequent operations like the Syrian War?

17. Why have so many non-US public officials stated on the record that the 9/11 attack must have been carried out by a State, not a loose group of militants?

Conclusion

As more and more years pass from September 11th, 2001, it is important to remember the gross amount of falsehood and fakery surrounding that event. Those lies led to so much draconian regulation, limitation of rights, torture, tyranny and war. May the 911 17th anniversary be an occasion for us to remind ourselves of the vast deception that continues to be perpetrated against us. It’s never too late to pursue and spread the truth. Even after all the hoopla over the JFK files release, Trump still bowed down to his military-intelligence masters and kept many files classified. Will history repeat itself and will 9/11 truth be held to the same fate?

Credit ~ Article ~ http://freedom-articles.toolsforfreedom.com/911-17th-anniversary-questions/?

[so-gay]

Sometimes I worry I am too comfortable being single. Up until my ex and I broke up, I had always craved being loved. I craved being in a relationship that would last forever. I wanted that kind of love where nothing could tear us apart, but never in a million years would I have thought that I would be the one to detach from the person I considered the love of my life.

Two years ago I was in Disney with her and everything was fine. In retrospect, we weren’t perfect but we were everything I was convinced I needed. Almost 4 months after our trip, reality hit and the next thing I knew I was having the most painful conversation I’ve ever had with someone. To tell her I was no longer happy.. to see her cry, to feel her pain on top of my own broke me. I cared about her more than anyone else in the world, and I was faced with having to hurt the one person who promised to never hurt me. For 2 whole years she looked at me and saw no flaws, no imperfections. She wholeheartedly accepted every part of me and my past. I was her everything and she was about to have it all taken away by the hands that gave her what she considered the world. She didn’t change - she was always the same person I fell in love with. To this day, nearly 2 years later I still can’t figure out what changed for me to want to leave her. It took me months before and after breaking up to come to terms with the fact that my heart stopped wanting her the way it once did, months to be at peace with her being so involved with someone new only a few weeks after we ended. The pain seemed to never go away, until one day I realized the ache in my chest wasn’t weighing me down day in and day out anymore. During the time we broke up, I was hoping the only thing I needed was space from her to clear my head and we’d bounce back like nothing happened, but the truth is I knew I didn’t know how to fix us - I’m not sure I even wanted to. I wanted to be single and see if she was who I thought I could spend the next 50+ years with, but deep down I knew there was no hope for our relationship. I desperately wanted there to be, but I was so emotionally checked out it would have been impossible.

Ever since my heart sabotaged itself, I haven’t been able to believe love is for me, and for whatever reason I’m okay with that. We grow up thinking we have to have a boyfriend, have to have a girlfriend, have to get married and have kids before a specific age we set for oursslves. How can we not? We watch hundreds of romance movies, read countless books where two people find their soulmates, open Instagram to pictures of our friends getting engaged, hear parents tell their children they’ll find “the one” someday, see thousands of ads portraying this idea of love that is suppose to be the same for everyone. We get to the point where we tell ourselves over and over that we can’t wait until we have THAT kind of love. And for some it works out, they get that “fairytale ending.” They find exactly what they have been looking for. But for those who don’t, they’re left feeling ashamed and embarrassed because they have no one to call theirs. Relatives ask why you’re single at every holiday gathering, friends ask why you haven’t gone on a date in months, coworkers ask if you’re in a relationship. It’s as if being single is the last thing we should want. No one may convey that to you in words, but when we look around the societal message is clear. You can have the most supportive friends and family who reassure you that it’s okay to take your time and be alone, but at the end of the day we wonder if there is something wrong with us that has caused us to be single. We hear others finding their “other half,” as if us being us isn’t enough to constitute a whole being. It’s takes an incredible amount of time, energy, and self reflection to be genuinely content with being single. It feels as though every other person in the world is happily taken and then there’s you, swiping through tinder or eagerly scanning the crowd at a bar wondering if tonight will be the night somebody gives you their number.

I think about my future and where I want to be 20 or 30 years from now, and for the time being I can’t see it with another person. The idea of a soulmate is ideal, but possible for me? I wish I knew. Time will tell, but if I stay single for the rest of my life, I’ll be okay. No matter where life takes me, no matter how long I’m without a relationship, I have too many people by my side for me to be alone. What it comes down to is that I’m too terrified to commit to one significant other, not that I don’t want to or that one person isn’t enough, but I fear I’ll fall out of love again. I fear I’ll have to have that conversation with someone else, and I truly don’t think my heart could take it. I’ve found it’s harder to break up with someone than be broken up with, because not only are you hurting, but so are they. I focus too much on endings. I can’t just be happy and let things happen. I can’t make time, I’m never interested in anyone that I find the energy to talk to. I ghost, I hurt feelings, and I hate it. I don’t want to be this way. Not sure if it’s the depression or a flaw I can’t escape, but I’m tired. More often than not I don’t even realize I’m being the worst, it just happens and then I wonder if I’m physically incapable of emotional connections even though I’ve had them in the past? Am I genuinely trash at being in relationships or am I not meant to be with anyone? I can’t even hold a conversation past 3 texts without regretting even putting in the effort. Is this part of who I am or is the universe telling me it’s not them I should entertain?

There’s not one second that goes by where I regret my decision or wish we were still together. That thought was fleeting, escaping moments after I fully understood we were over. I’ll never be in love with her again, as hard as I forced myself to think I could be. I’ll never want to marry her, have children with her, live with her, or call her my mine. Maybe she never was, maybe my heart was unable to love her to it’s fullest capacity.

There was one moment throughout the two years we were together where I knew us breaking up was inevitable, prior to me genuinely considering it, but I never wanted to admit that thought crossed my mind. It was soon into our relationship, maybe a couple months in. I had gone over to her house during the summer and we stayed up late watching Netflix. As we started to fall asleep, I held her. I noticed her breathing had changed and she was no longer awake. I closed my eyes and felt uncomfortable, like something wasn’t right. I wanted to leave. I wanted to drive home and cry. I was afraid of my worst nightmare. I told her I loved her the day she was officially my girlfriend, there was no way I was second guessing it this early. “You love her, stop overthinking it.” “But what if I can’t forever? What if this feeling, this happiness, goes away?” “It won’t, you’ve never felt like this towards anyone else, no one compares to her. This is the love of your life, take a deep breath and relax.” I pushed those demons aside and never questioned us again, that is until February of 2017. Those thoughts resurfaced. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t focus. Every night I tried to keep her up, because no matter how much I knew what I wanted, her company was soothing. We’d say goodnight, fall silent and my heart would begin to race. I didn’t want to be left to sift through everything I was feeling. I’d stare up at the ceiling and my thoughts would consume me. I knew it would be another night crying myself to sleep with her beside me. She had no idea, and I didn’t know what to do or who I could turn to. Each morning I forced my thoughts as deep as they could go and tried to keep up with a life that did not make me as happy as I could have been. I was fully prepared to be that unhappy forever, keep my mouth shut and go through each day ignoring the truth that I had buried to the back of my mind. My depression got worse, I began to develop crippling anxiety, and soon enough I couldn’t keep myself together any longer.

After all was said and done in May of 2017, I was caught up on that summer night 2 years prior for weeks on end. Should I have trusted my gut back then? Should I have broken things off before we were too involved? Would I have developed this irrational fear of falling in love again and breaking another girl’s heart if we hadn’t dated for so long? Would I have found someone else that resulted in the same painful ending? Would we still be friends? Would I be anything like the person I am today if we had broken up sooner? Would I know then what I know now?

I like to think dating her was one of the greatest lessons I’ve ever learned. I learned what it was like to love, be loved, and feel safe with someone else. I learned how to move into my own apartment, to go grocery shopping, to go to a laundromat, to pay bills, to manage money, to maintain an independent lifestyle - even though I lived my life so in sync with hers. I learned what loving someone unconditionally means, because there is no doubt in my mind that I didn’t love her properly. I learned to never make the same mistake again - to keep quiet for the sake of someone else’s happiness. For too long I was miserable, and ever since we ended I’ve felt a sense of freedom I so desperately wanted for several months leading up to the day I didn’t actually think would happen to us. It hasn’t been easy, and I miss her from time to time. But to have broken her heart and worry that she’ll never heal, just to see her enter another relationship afterwards and be okay?? I’m relieved. She may not have contact with me in the slightest, but my biggest fear breaking up with her - that she’d never move on - proved to be wrong. I can fall asleep at night knowing someone who was once so important to me is happy, and so am I. I didn’t make a mistake, I didn’t ruin her life like I thought I would. I’ve grown so much over these past two years being single. I needed her from 2015-2017, but from 2017-2019 I needed me.

Today I am free. Today I am happy. Today I am everything I’ve dreamed of being. I cannot believe I was so convinced this version of myself was only possible if I was in a relationship a couple years ago. Today I am single and I wouldn’t change it for the world. Maybe one day I’ll be able to commit to someone again the way I did to her, but if my heart doesn’t let me then I know it’s not because there’s something wrong with me, but because everyone’s story is different and we all aren’t meant to live our lives the same as everyone else. If we were, wouldn’t the entire human race be identical? Would there even be a point in trying to make a life for ourselves if we were suppose to be the exactly the same?

I wonder if I’ll ever be excited over someone again or if that reality is out of reach for me.