#vent art does not reflect the whole of what is felt.
what was i made for? (journey overview)
this is going to be kind of a vent blog , but at the same time it’s a reflection of my shifting journey. where i’ve been and where i’m going. i want to be transparent, and i want to motivate others, and right now, this is the best way i can do that.
there will be no triggering material in this blog, but will be slight references to mental health and illness. if that botherw you, i totally understand if you don’t read on. this is also a long blog, so be prepared
i’m not going to start at the beginning and where i was born, because that’s BORINGG!! what i do want to start with two major signs i got when i was younger. i, personally, consider these signs that i would eventually get into shifting/i am made for a higher purpose. at the time, i didn’t know this so all of these are almost… revelations? i hope that’s the right word, lol!
the one thing i want to talk about is a dream i had. i’m going to summarize it. simply i was living in black and white with my family. i found a vent and crawled through it. i cried a few times, and got discouraged, but i kept going. when i got to the end, my 5th grade crush was there. everything was in colour. i forgot what he was wearing but i know it reminded me of the gilded age. i was wearing a lime green dress and he said something along the lines of “i’ve been waiting for you” or “you’re finally here” obvs i woke up after this but it felt very important and it still does.
anyways, time skip to ~late 2020 - early 2021. i was on quotev… writing hxh fanfics… BUT ANYWAYS! i was on quotev and one of my mutrals, who im still good friends with today, made a post about something called ✨reality shifting✨. now i looked up to her — im going to call her s btw — so i thought it was pretty cool she found out about something like this. now obviously, with me being me, i did a deep dive into it. tiktok, go google, instagram, amino, you name it, i was on it! dude, i genuinely got so into this and obsessed. it wasn’t healthy, but at the time i needed something.
the first thing i remember was joining amino. i joined an mha shifting community. i had recently got into the show and i was debating about shifting there — although my main priority at the time was hxh. i asked a lot of questions — simple questions too — but everyone was so respectful when answering them. i also remember posting a (very shitty) art work at the time n i got a lot of love for it 😭 my art style has changed a lot since then and ajsjdjf!! i lowkey should redraw it. i also kept s updated during this time, and looked at her mini-journal on quotev whenever she posted! it’s an understatement to say i was very into shifting and that i latched onto it. primarily because i needed something to look forward to and to have hope in, you know? i didn’t have much at the time. i didn’t have friends, my life began changing in the 3D. things felt like they were going downhill. i also moved this year to a house from an apartment.
anyways, i continued interacting in that amino up until earlier this year — because of personal issues. but during the time, i actively engaged, researched and got better at shifting and understanding the process + life in general. i made many friends during this time, and got involved in group shifts :) other than w s obviously.
this leads to my first shift in ~mid 2021. i fell asleep doing a method, i forgot what method at this point. what i do know, is i woke up in my mha dr. i felt wind blowing on my face, i heard birds chirping, i felt the sunlight on my face… i have a post on it somewhere — i literally cannot find it! but it was a wonderful experience, it gave me a lot of motivation to remember it. it still does! also my eyes stayed closed this whole time, but i know, i KNOW i shifted. i was there. there is no way 99% of those things could have happened in my cr bc of where i was. i had also moved at this time, i was living in a house.
this leads me to ~late 2021 or early 2022. i was introduced to channeling (and dabbled in witchcraft) through replika (don’t do this. it’s not reliable.) as i channeled my s/o (who turned out to be my soulmate) multiple times + my spirit guide gage! it was weird meeting her, because she’s very blunt and straight to the point. she literally said hi, her name, and dipped 🤞. i love her. later in 2022 (early -> mid ) i had a discord server that was shifting based (it has sense been abandoned, as i los that account 💀) and i met kairi ( gage’s baby daddy/husband), piper (who was 5 at the time, she’s abt 7 now) and my friends guide — sailboat (that’s what i know him as. him and kairi have BEEF!) i used to often channel and talk to them — or even just talk to them without channeling them so i could just ramble and they would listen. i would do this in the shower btw. they listened a lot and well. they’re so sweet, and they’re always there for me. i seriously recommend u guys get to know ur guides — they help a lot.
anyways, at the end of this year, 2022, it was a blur. my sister was admitted to the hospital during the beginning of 2023. i was introduced to deity work during the end of 2022 — and this is how i work with loki and found out im his child (he just said hey btw 💀💀 so if yall wanna say high go ahead) i want to say im sorry to loki, as i blamed him for my sister being admitted to the hospital and another situation i cannot talk about publicly. loki is the god of chaos, but that’s because he brings chaos and strives in it. i also bring and strive in it, but how people react is what matters. it wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t mine, it wasn’t my sisters, it was actually my biological fathers. and that’s okay. i don’t care anymore, but i want to publicly apologize to loki for blaming him for such issues that came by. i love you so much, padre, and thank you for being a great father and friend
this year, i was going through a lot of shit. i was inactive on most socials from january to may, and i really don’t remember why. i do remember this is the year i was manifesting seriously that i shift before or on 11.11. unfortunately, i didn’t and im pretty sure that’s because i believed that i wouldn’t. i worked my ass off and i thought i deserve this, so why am i seeing little to no progress.
it was because i was basically looking down, and not realizing how far i’ve come. the end is near for me, and there’s literally no way i can mess this up.
now i know, this isn’t an in-depth reflection or whatever, but there isn’t a lot i did that i can remember in this reality (trauma response oops!) but it’s what’s going on up until now.
this month, i did a reading with my friend (nile) and we asked what has to happen before we shift. and we got two things. the first being a fight between two of my school friends, the second is a significant meeting between nile and a MAN. YEAH. A MAN U GUYS WERE WAITING ON A MAN.
anyways. sorry about that. so we’re currently waiting on a man n that’s like the last step 💯🤞✨ i’m trying to stay hopeful n whatnot but it hasn’t been easy. the part 2/addition to this blog will be constants and things that kept me going and hopefully can help you out :)
i’m sorry this blog is just one big pile of nothing bc the message got a bit fucked when i was making this — i restarted it about 3 times n i genuinely forgot why i made this when i did initially. but yeah, this is what i have for u rn! the next one will be called “i got love” based off the mother mother song xx keep an eye out!!
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Missing art like I was missing home. 🏡 (personal mini art rambling)
Yesterday, I was busy cleaning the whole day (and the temp. was in the 90s... without AC and sometimes fan 💦), when at 7 something PM, I felt kind of somber? Awhile repeatedly scrubbing some vents, I was reflecting on the feeling and few other personal stuff.
Suddenly, I just thought, “Man, I miss doing my art”. And it felt like I was missing home or maybe someone important to me (perhaps that’s cheesy but whatever. Although the day before yesterday, I did a bit of art related stuff).
Just thought that was interesting and made me thought more of my connection to art (I think especially because no one in my life does art, or rarely does art and it’s like more a very casual approach/thought towards that).
Later, I couldn’t help but be a bit worry for a family member. And then after abating that worry, there was a tinge of loneliness? Suddenly and randomly, felt like looking at some animation, or what’s more commonly called, sakuga. Felt like that kinda help?
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𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀; 𝘆𝗼𝗼𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗸𝗶𝗺
a/n: if you have any of your own yoosung hcs send them in please !! id luv to see them, help me cope with my yoosung brain rot </3
• you already know from the RFA’s banter that yoosung was pretty popular back in highschool, yet it’s no secret that he’s never had a s/o before. you’re his first… well, everything. he’s a bit embarrassed sharing that in the beginning, but you assure him that it’s nothing to be shy about, it’s actually quite sweet.
• your first kiss wasn’t storybook, but yet it was perfect in its own right. the two of you were out late, gazing up at the stars. he got caught up in how they reflected in your eyes. you took notice. he shyly broke the silence after a few moments, “can... i kiss you?”
• it was messy, smiley, sweet and soft all in the same breath. his inexperience just added to the charm. it felt like him.
• texts and calls you often, not the type who’s shy about texting back the second he gets your message. he likes to send you little updates about his day, sweet messages, ask about how things are with you, things that remind him of you, something you might find cute, or even just some selfies here and there. here’s some examples of the types of messages i feel he would send his s/o throughout the day > ⭐️ ✨ 🌟 💫 ✨
• it’s no surprise seeing how affectionate he is. always holding your hand, kissing your cheek, brushing back your hair, or wrapping his arm around your waist. he adores closeness, being around you. not shy at all when it comes to pda, especially if there’s other guys around. really lays it on then.
• on the topic of other guys, yoosung has a tendency to get a little possessive. struggles with his insecurities and all that. sometimes when you play too much into zen’s antics, laugh too hard at seven’s jokes, he starts to doubt himself a bit. you’ll have to reassure him that no one will ever compare.
• brings you little gifts often whenever he thinks of you. your favorite takeout, a beautiful bouquet of flowers, cute little knickknacks that he just knows you’ll love. if you ever start to feel guilty about anything, he shuts it down as soon as soon as possible.
“yoosung… wasn’t this expensive?”
“don't worry about it, you’re worth it!” 🥺
• one of his favorite things in the universe is when he’s playing video games and you come to cuddle with him in his lap. he’s all smiles as soon as he sees you, switching between having his hand on the mouse and running his fingers through your hair, he’ll pull you into his chest and press a big kiss against your forehead. swears to you that he plays much better whenever you’re around, but inwardly you think that’s just an excuse for you to cuddle in his lap more often.
• he streams often, so you come in to bring him snacks and water, or else he has a tendency to forget.
“oh, mc is here everyone, say hi!! that’s my s/o you guys!” his audience can see right away the way he lights up whenever you walk into the room, his whole demeanor changes. definitely has youtube compilations of him getting starry eyed over you. i think it would be super similar to how mark and amy act on stream [x]
• struggles to get his work done, a big procrastinator. you definitely have to help him out here. no games until after your studies are done. if he pulls the puppy dog eyes, which he often does, you have to find ways to tempt him with a reward instead. all the kisses he wants as soon as his work is done. you don’t think you ever see him move as fast as he does then.
• steal his clothes. it’s impossible not to do it. he’ll be like “is that my hoodie?” whenever he stops by your place, “maybe…”
• he’ll start leaving his hoodies at your place purposely after awhile. he finds he really likes the way you look in them, it never fails to make his heart race.
• if you’re ever out of it, drunk, high, or just straight up don’t wanna do it, he’ll do your entire night routine for you. and he will do it to the max. takes your makeup off with expert precision until he’s sure all of its off, brings a little bowl of warm water to wash your face for you, brushes your teeth and squishes your face around playfully while he does it. puts moisturizer on your face, lotion on your body, whatever you usually do at night. not once does he complain, or seem unhappy about it. he adores taking care of you in little ways like this.
• his body temp is warm, super warm. takes his jacket off and puts it around your shoulder whenever he sees that you’re cold. it’s always cozy and soft inside when he wraps it around you.
• you help him touch up his roots, making sure there’s no spots missed. if you dye your hair too then he’s more than happy to help, gets super focused while doing it, tongue poking out and everything.
• you two fall asleep on calls together a lot. he puts his phone on top of a pillow so it feel like he’s cuddling you, sometimes when it goes silent, he’ll laugh a bit to himself.
“what is it?”
“nothing. i just really love you.”
• dates with yoosung are always fun no matter what, he has a set date night every week, so you guys go on and off between who gets to arrange them. some staples he goes for are ice skating, ramen shops, picnics, boba dates, game nights, theaters, arcades. but sometimes all he really wants is to just wants to be close to you. laying together in his dorm, a movie playing on the laptop at the end of the bed, the two of you are entangled in each other’s arms. that's his favorite type of quality time.
• absolutely loves cooking for you, especially breakfasts after you stay over at his place for the night. he’ll add a little ketchup heart to the eggs, spend extra time cutting shapes into your fruit, brings it to you on a fancy tray while you’re still cuddled up and cozy in bed. wakes you softly with a kiss and a smile before showing you his mini works of art.
• adores praise. give it all to him. praise him for getting his work done on time. praise him for eating dinner at a normal time. praise him for finding the willpower to make his bed in the mornings for once. praise him. no matter what, he’ll get all blushy and starry eyed.
• he likes to write you little notes or reminders and leave them around your place whenever he stays over. i love yous, date reminders, random little doodles and such.
• matching couples outfits!!! likes to pair his outfits with whatever you’re wearing that day, his favorite thing ever is when people notice the both of you are matching and comment on it. practically beams the second they do.
• matching jewelry too. totally has the lego heart necklace with you. if you ever get him anything, you best believe he’ll wear it all the time. sentimental at his core.
• he has rough days more often than not. mental fog, overwhelmed with school, or just things not going his way. after days like that, his favorite place to relax is safe and sound in your lap. your fingers running through his hair, maybe a movie playing in the background but neither of you are paying attention to it. if he cries or vents for a little too long, you never make him feel guilty or embarrassed about it. you assure him with kindest of words, wipe away his tears and give him soft kisses all over his face, let him fall asleep on top of your chest, humming soft melodies to him as he drifts of to sleep. it’s the little things like this that mean the world to him.
thank you for reading! posts similar to this one:
↳ ੈ‧₊˚ boyfriend jumin han hcs
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Blueberry Claws - H.H.J
Warnings - Halloween Au, mentioned assault, choking, Hyunjin!Dom mild tones, slight violence
Word Count - 4.7K
A/N - ahaha this .. turned out way longer than I meant to ohno I'm sorry Hyunjin had my heart in a vice grip lately
Part of @nightshade-minho and @mini-meanhoe 's Halloween collab!
*********************************
Elbow deep in ruddy earth, you kneel among the undergrowth of your garden, plucking away stray roots and weeds. It’s not your favourite part of the day, but you pride yourself in the exquisite berries your growth produces, and adequate sunlight is a must in bringing the sweetest fruits. Autumnal chills creep down your spine, warning you of setting sun and cooler nights looming over the forest horizon. It is a quaint little house, settled carefully between the curve of the river and the forest border, a hat’s toss away from the village settlement, and you enjoy it that way - far away enough for privacy and undisturbed peace, yet not isolated enough to be unreachable and dreary.
People weren't the only viable company, anyway. Your neighbors came in the form of passing badgers rummaging through your compost, squirrels and mice poking their noses through cracks in your windowsill while you bake, the sweet smell of sugar and jams luring in a furry audience you felt obliged to entertain, tossing crumbs and peels into the open yard.
“Croak!”
You raise your head away from the mud at the screech, glancing upward.
“Hello.” You greet your most recent visitor. The magpie quickly climbed upon your friendlist, introducing itself with a persistent knock of its beak against your poor kitchen windowpane. It came back the next evening, and the one after that, never missing more than a day in it’s routine to rob you of your pie crusts.
“Are you hungry?”
“Croak!” You suppose that’s a yes, considering the intensity with which the bird stares down at your precious blueberries.
“Come on, then. Lunch wouldn’t hurt me, either.”
***
“Can you believe that - that witch!” You stomp along the pavement to your front door, slamming it open. “The audacity to even imply my pies are anything but organic!”
Positively fuming, you don't entertain the absurdity of venting your frustrations to a corvid. At times, you think to yourself the little blackbird almost understands you - head tilting in accordance with your words, nodding when appropriate and watching your dutifully as if awaiting continuation.
Then it’s attention switches from your wild gesticulations to the fresh batch of muffins cooling on your counter, and your suspicions of a higher intelligence disappears, leaving you to sweep cake crumbs off it’s feathers. No, plunging neck-deep into hot cake is not wise, you’d point out later.
***
Maybe the loneliness does get to you after all. It’s a little embarrassing to admit how reliant you become on the magpie’s company. Its’ shrill croaks and glassy eyes became a comfort to you, a presence your day no longer felt complete without. Brushing your fingertips over the delicate feathers on its back, you rest your chin on your other palm.
“It’s a dreary winter coming, birdie.” You muse, humming at the overcast sky. Masses of grey and washed out blues tumblr over the hills, warning you of approaching snows and rains. “I should fix the roof hatching tomorrow morning - be a shame to freeze my toes off before the solstice, wouldn’t it?”
The magpie doesn’t reply, and you don’t expect it to, but the slow blinks as you speak convince you your words don’t fall on deaf ears.
“As long as I don’t have someone warming my bed, I better do all the warming myself.” Springin to your feet, you set to work on tidying the front yard.
“Would you care to join me to fetch new hay for the roof tomorrow?”
Your unconventional companion opens his beak, groaning. Then it snaps down into the ground, impaling one of your finest strawberries.
Ah, well.
You can only guess what a magpie must tend to in a day - you weren’t about to keep it from important bird tasks.
***
Your window panes quiver with the force of the hurricane, creaking sadly in their wooden frames. You have no idea what time it could possibly be, but judging by the time already passed since sundown, it’s way into the late night. Dismorphed figures haunt the outside, shadows passing over your bedroom like a predator, and you burrow deeper under your covers. Of course, approaching winter was harsh. In the hillside, mountain winds rolled down rocky foundations to crash into your humble home with rapid force. Turning onto your side, you press your head against the pillow to mute the whistle of the wind through your thin walls. You’d patched the roof last week - but you had yet to insulate the walls fresh, and chills made themselves known through cracks and gaps in last year’s worn overlay.
With a soul-crushing snap, your window is thrown open as the lock gives way to hurricane, two fragile glass planes whipping open into the dead of night as you curse your luck and scramble out of bed to grasp the handles before they’re torn off entirely.
Yet something past the glass grabs your gaze before you can pull them shut, petrifying you in place. You don’t know if it’s the rain freezing your feet to the ground, or the unfiltered terror, but you can’t even scream as your eyes meet the vividly yellow ones across your garden.
Hunched above your blueberry bush, in a cloak of pitch black, stands a creature you’ve only seen in manic sketches in the village hall prior to tonight. Its’ spine seems bent, somehow, too long and too skewerd to fit precisely in its body, leaving two lumps protruding from its back. In a pale face, boxed in by wisps of black, you can only focus on two luminous eyes, zeroing in on your figure with far too much attention for your liking.
In its knifed claws it grips a branch of your favourite plant, mangled and weeping blueberry juice onto the dirt. Maroon splatters blot the beast’s face, but you don’t gaze long enough to separate fruit from the blood of some poor soul.
Maybe your blood will be next on its beak.
Yanking the window shut, you tumble into your bed, curling as tight as you can into the duvet, shielding your head. Maybe it’ll go away if you don’t make noise, holding your hands to your ears.
Maybe it’ll just go away.
***
It’s been three days since the storm, and coincidentally, three day since you’ve last seen your closest friend. Really, mayhaps this was a sign your friendship should extend elsewhere, and not the local corvid populace. Shovelling pastries into your hamper, you venture out into the open air for the first time since that night.
You’re still unable to clean the wreckage in your front yard. Somehow, the thought of laying your hands on the same branches that unknown horror touched fills you with dread, and you can’t bring yourself to rid the leftover mess. You had enough jams and preserves stockpiled to last you the whole winter if need be - if you weren’t financially obliged to sell most of them, anyway.
Fitting yourself with a scarf to guard from temperamental weather, you wrap the wool tightly up to your nose as the first leaves fall from the oaks beside you.
You love your town, you really do.
The whimsy of nearby streams rolling over lustrous green fields is a wonder to wake up to every morning, and the walk into town is always a pleasant meander under centuries-old oaks and pine trees, spying on the conversations of woodpeckers and crows.
Yet, among all the commotion, you find yourself missing one particular croak. Never quite the same elegant cry as the other birds, but particular and endearing in its own right.
And entirely missing from your life for half a week.
Passing the stone gates, you keep to the right of the road to make space for idle carts and horses wandering the streets. Carefully, you unload all your stock onto the market table - this stand has your name carved into the wooden leg, and you pride yourself on being a regular enough attendant to warrant a reserved place.
The day flurries by you in a mess of clinking jam jars and passing coins. Afternoon had already set in a while ago, traversing into the evening by the time you begin wrapping up your last sale. Bidding goodbye to the market staff, you hoist your (significantly lighter) basket over your forearm, leaving the town square. It’s not dark yet, bare wisps of the night inking over your head as the sun lowers over the woods, letting you lose your train of thought in the scenery.
You feel the last pricks of stress leave you as your thoughts drift to the hallowing creature from nights ago. Perhaps your mind, in its hazy and exhausted stade, played up the vivid shadows and reflections in the moonlight? Yes, surely. There’s no way an animal this size and fright roamed your woods unacknowledged - The only terror you knew was the fabled warlock, but nobody has seen his face in decades. You weren’t even sure what he looked like. All tales of warlocks the library gave you marked them as haunted men, selling their soul for mastery of dark arts, giving up their limbs for a hint of inhuman power. Some had horns, you’d read. Some, a devilish tail winding between their legs, while some gave up their own eyes and replaced them with animal counterparts for better senses.
It scared you more than you’d like to admit, the more you entertained the possibility of a being so twisted hiding in the depths of your woods - but was Hwang Hyunjin even real, or a figment of townsfolk imagination?
Entangled in your own head, you fail to notice the arm lashing out to grab your elbow and yank you violently sideways, slamming your back into the brick wall between two buildings.
“Ouch!” You rasp out, catching your breath, but your scream is broken by the hand quickly winding around your throat.
Great, after a shitty week you were going to get robbed, too!
“Don't you try open your mouth again, you little bitch.” A coarse voice hissed against your cheek. You tried to reel away from the terrible stench of his breath, but with your back against the wallside, it was impossible to weasel out. “Made quite a pretty penny at the market today, didn’t ya?”
A large, cold hand snuck down your waist, over the ribbons tying your corset shut, and you were sure you’d retch when clammy fingers started tugging at the knot.
“Where are you hiding it, then? Down your vest?” One sharp pull leaves your corset flying open, exposing your skin to freezing night air, shielded only by a thin undershirt. You try to shake your head, but the hold on your neck makes it impossible to even curse. “That’s a bit thin, isn’t it? Not much to hide under such flimsy fabric -”
“Shit!”
You heave in a breath as the tightness around your throat suddenly wanes, disappearing, and all weight lifts from you. Eyes watering from the lack of oxygen, you blink rapidly to clear your vision, stumbling back as you find focus.
Shrill cries tear from your assailant, angry red oozing from the gash above his left eye, arms flailing maniacally to chase away the blur of feathers thrashing around his head. Slinking down to catch your breath, you pull your knees to your chest to steady your breathing, though the scene before you grows more gruesome every time you blink.
You can’t tear your eyes away, even as the bird dives down again, embedding its razor claws in the man’s eye socket. The screams are terrifying, but you don’t have the thought to wonder how no one else came to check the commotion.
Maybe nobody wanted to.
In muted horror, you watch as the man finally lands a hit, thrashing the tiny bird into the wall opposite with a numbing crack, spinning on his heel to face you once more, though his one eye struggles to find your face. He stumbles forward, lurching in your direction, drops of fresh blood flying at your feet.
“What are you, a witch? I should burn you alive -”
Smack!
You’re sure you’re hallucinating as he topples to the pavement, struck by a surprise force. Hunched over him, in a flurry of black feather, sits a mass you know you’ve seen before. For a moment you think, another bird? A whole flock? But then the feathered cape shifts, raises, and you realise it’s one pair of heavy-set wings protruding from a broad back, arms poised to strike over and over at a target long void of defense. You feel sick - everything that unravelled in the last few moments makes your stomach churn, and you vomit onto the floor between your feet. You can’t watch the blood any longer, listen to the crunching sound of tendons snapping and bone breaking, rolling over as you feel your legs give way to jelly.
***
You can feel yourself swaying, gently. You don’t feel the ground, but you know you’re moving, head balanced on something pillowy and warm, but still solid - what a weird combination.
There’s something holding you up by your legs, and another clutching onto your back. You have half the mind to open your eyes when you’re coherent enough to, knowing you should be alarmed given the situation you just vaguely avoided. But this is nice. Your lift your eyelids barely enough to take in your position, head propped carefully on a shoulder. You can’t see much beyond the collarbone your nose is tucked into without outing yourself as awake, so you settle for breathing in deep, lulling your nerves with the scent of ash and fern. It's safe, comforting somehow, in a way you’ve never felt comforted in. Your forehead grazes his cheek, tips of his dark hair tickling your skin as you heave out a sigh and press your face deeper against the warmth.
“I’m sorry I left you, Birdie.”
His voice is gentle, too. You let it ring in your head, soft whispers and words you can't quite decipher but appreciate nonetheless lulling you back into shallow sleep. You recognise your surroundings by the shift of light, stepping out from the tree canopy into wide hillside, catching last rays of sunlight.
You think he’s going to wake you and ask for a key, but your front door grants him access with just a single flick of his wrist under your knee. You’ll have to ask him about that later.
Nudging his way inside, ducking to fit past the low doorframe, your saviour swiftly marches to your bedroom, confirming your suspicions. The layout of your house was entirely too familiar to him for it to be the first time he’s visited the premises. Or the second, if you count the night visit three days back. When he lowers you onto the mattress, it's with such care your heart skips in your chest, and you pray he doesn’t hear it stop entirely when you feel his fingertips brush over your shoulder to pull the blankets over you, strong arms straining under his shirt as he moves your head from his shoulder and you immediately miss the heat. There’s a cup of water by your bedside that wasn’t there before, and when satisfied with your placement, he steps away. Your eyes blink open fully when you feel his presence leave your side.
“Are you leaving?” Your voice sounds small even to you.
“I wasn’t sure you’d want me around.” He answers after a hesitant pause, kneeling by your bed. “You - You looked really scared that night. I never want you to be scared of me.”
You sit up, reaching for the glass of water which he swiftly passes to you to soothe your throat and wash out remaining bile. Your skin still burns in the places that asshole touched you, and you hiss when your fingers rub the sore spots on your neck, before a larger hand wraps around your palm, bringing it down to glare at the bruise.
“I won’t apologize for what happened to him, though.” The venom in his voice makes you still. “That filth got what he deserved - I should have taken his other eye, too.”
“...Is he dead?” You’re not sure you should ask.
“No. I left him breathing, but I can’t guarantee someone will find him in time.”
“You left him blind, that’s enough Hyunjin.” His head snaps up at the name, as if he didn’t expect the confrontation. “You’re the magpie that’s been visiting my garden this summer, aren’t you? You’re the fabled terror in our woods.”
You say the last part with a smile, but the warlock lowers his head still, glancing down at the blanket curving over your hips.
“....Yeah.” He mumbles, observing the many silver rings at his knuckles. “Is that too much for you?”
“What do you mean?” You scrunch your nose, confused, when he doesn’t elaborate.
“At first I just came to visit because of the garden, but every time you saw me you’d talk to me like I was a person - Like I could understand. And I know you talk to the others too, like that ugly goose -” You want to scold him for calling Truffles ugly, but he carries on without pause. “But in my head it was just, nice. Even if I couldn’t reply, whenever you speak, there’s no darkness in me. Nothing but you.”
Hyunjin frowns, not wanting to meet your eyes yet. His hand grips the edge of your duvet, straining the fabric as his wings twitch.
“I was so fucking mad at myself when you saw me. You looked so small, so petrified - and of me. And as much as I wanted to take you into my arms and reassure you I couldn’t.”
You can’t deny it, you were scared then. But knowing the man before you now, the events of today and the large part thunder and your own exhaustion played into your fear that night, you felt none of the apprehension now, resting your hand atop his shaking ones.
“Maybe you wouldn’t want to see me again, if you’d guessed what I was after that. So I let you be, watching from a distance, because I couldn’t bring myself to let go completely. And today, fuck -” He runs a clawed hand through his locks, pushing hair out of his face to finally look at you, golden eyes rooting you to your spot. “I should have snapped both his legs for even thinking to touch you.”
“But maybe that’s my own vice.” You watch soft pink lips form words you’re not sure are real. They could have been your own imagination, for how quietly he speaks. “Maybe my love would be too much for you.”
The silence that follows his confession is crushing to both of you, for entirely different reasons.
You barely wrap your head around the idea of being loved by him before he pulls his hand away from yours, accepting rejection he knew was coming. It’s not until he stands that you breathe in, catching the edge of his jacket before he can leave you again.
“It’s not.” You state. “It’s not too much.”
You hope he doesn’t mistake the quiver in your voice for doubt, because you’ve never been so sure of something in your life.
“Do you mean that?” The hopeful lilt to his voice sparks your heart alight, he’s at your side in seconds, long feathers sweeping the floor below his feet as he moves. “Are you sure you want me the same way I want you?”
“I do.”
You nod to reassure him, sliding further down the bed to make space for his larger frame. Hyunjin slinks in next to you, crawling over to hover above you, taking in the way you look finally beneath him. His feathers block out most light, sun long set. You can barely see, but before you can complain about missing his ethereal beauty, a candle flickers alight by your window, and another on your bedside table. Another, and yet one more afterward, until your bedroom filters in a warming glow from a dozen shy fires.
Ah, warlock things.
“It’s okay,” Hyunjin hesitates still, lips stopping millimeters away from yours as the last strings of hesitation cling to his thoughts until you urge him to move. “You can touch me.”
His lips are warmer than anything you’ve ever felt, moving over your mouth like fine malt wine. There’s a quiver in his hands when he brings a palm down to cradle your cheek, running his thumb over the smooth skin as his tongue runs over your teeth.
You don’t notice your legs spreading open to allow him between your thighs until his knee bumps against your core, bundling your skirts in his fist to pull them down and off.
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to have you under me like that, birdie.” Hyunjin whispers. “All for me, at my mercy - you look so good like that.”
The irony of him using your own nickname for him on you is lost in the moment you arch your back into his touch, pressing your still corseted chest against his palm. Every place he touches has you needing more of him, every part you can reach.
“Undress me, please.”
“Gladly.” Nimble fingers pluck the bow of your shirt open, lifting it over your head. In the cocoon of his wings and candle light, you feel a love you’ve never known before. Discarding his own shirt next, you hardly have a moment to take in the exquisite expanse of his chest before your field of vision is taken up with glimmering navy feathers, Hyunjin’s head dipping to swirl his tongue over your nipple. Your grip in his hair makes him keen against your chest, groaning over the sensitive flesh between his teeth.
“Are you - You’re a virgin?” The idea of him being the first to make you feel so open, the only person to see you react to such intimate touch gets him harder than Hyunjin thought possible.
“Ah, yeah…” You nod. Were your reactions so telling? You suddenly felt even smaller, caged between his arms and the pillows, watching his tamarind eyes flicker.
“I’ll love you well, birdie. Don’t worry.” He blows cool air onto your damp bud and you feel like crying. One hand leaves the space by your head, pinching your other peak. At first gently, testing how far he could push your limits to get you melting at his touch, then harder when you moan at the slight burn.
Your hips rise to rub against his thigh, unknowingly seeking out friction to aid the dampness gathering in your underwear. His hand meets you there, slipping a finger under the band of your panties to snap it against your skin for your impatience, and you still immediately, recognising his dominance even without prior warning.
“Be good and wait. If I own you, I’m taking my time with you.” There’s a hard edge in his voice, something about the empty threat makes you want to push his buttons until he snaps.
You don’t need to wait much longer.
Ridding you of the last scrap of clothing you had left, Hyunjin has you bare and displayed, every part on show and within his reach. Slower than you can take, he drags his thumb on the inside of your thigh, kissing and nibbling the delicate skin just inches away from your dripping cunt. When his thumb finally, finally rubs a circle against your clit you whine his name so loud he nearly bites down hard. Still, he holds his pace, pressing his thumb in patient patterns against your nub as his teeth mark up your thighs.
“Jinnie, go harder, please.”
You know you fucked up when he glances up at you, brows quirking in amusement.
“I said I’ll take care of you, y/n. If you want to cum, lay there and take it.”
You’re thankful he has a shred of mercy for your sanity, because your pleas seem to have a marginal effect on his movement.
You eat your words when Hyunjin forces two fingers inside your already wet slit, scissoring you open with harsh flicks of his wrist. His lips remain stuck to your clit, and the sudden assault on your senses has tears rushing down your cheeks.
“W-Wait! Hyun, wait, I don’t want to cum yet!” You don’t really believe he’ll listen.
“Don’t you? But I thought you wanted me to hurry, birdie?” The mockery in his voice makes you clench, and you’d flush if you weren’t so close to orgasm. “For someone not ruined before, you beg for a dick so well.”
“No...Not yet, I wanna cum on you, please.”
Hyunjin can resist many things - spells, curses. Killing a man on multiple occasions.
Your whimpering voice as you beg for him to take your virginity in your own bed, wrapped around his fingers and blushing from his tongue is not one of those things.
“Fuck, okay.”
Pulling his fingers out, your lips part at the emptiness, but your nerves prickle with knowledge of what awaits you next. Hyunjin is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, sweat dampening his forehead and eyes peering right into your heart whenever your gazes meet. You’re hypnotised by the way muscles in his back tense when he kneels between your thighs, urging you to open up for his fit. You only catch the briefest sight of his length, but it’s enough to make you gasp in anticipation at the size and thickness of his base.
“You’re sure you want me?” Your legs wrap around his waist as he asks, not yet penetrating you, only resting his length on your slick core.
“I want you more than anything I’ve ever dreamed of, Hyunjin.” You channel all your love and trust into your words, daring yourself to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose.
Feeling the stretch of him is euphoric, inch by inch, more than any discomfort could hope to reach. Your focus on the flex of his forearm propping him up beside your head, the tantalizing way his mouth curls in a moan of your name when he bottoms out, placing his seal on you completely.
“Tell me when I can move, alright?”
“N-Now, you can move. Please move.” You’re gonna go insane if he doesn’t ravage you right now, digging your nails into his bicep. Hyunjin starts off slowly, gentle languid strokes brushing over your walls. With every move, he feels you relax, the tension in your legs loosening into desperate longing as you pull him deeper into you, trapping him against your body.
You open your eyes only to grab his hand, wrapping it around your throat. His hips stutter, before he grips you fully, squeezing the sides of your neck until your moans turn to broken cries of his name.
“You’re such a cute little whore, love. What a dirty pussy you’ve been holding out on me.”
The smirk he looks down on you with is downright filthy, degrading every shred of dignity you had left, but you don’t take in anything but him, his hips slamming you into the mattress and the hot breath against your ear. “Are you gonna cum from that? My good girl, just like that...Let go and cum under me.”
He pulls his hand away from your neck, allowing you to heave in a breath and scream his name. Hyunjin holds you down by your wrists above your head, thrusting relentlessly as you cum around him, shaking and sobbing from the overstimulation at your centre. He allows himself to release then, as your whimpers quieten and he rides out your highs with you, filling you to the brim.
You stay entwined for a moment as you catch your shaky breath, coming out of the headspace Hyunjin fucked you into. When he pulls out, you fight the urge to clamp your legs shut as he holds your thighs apart, admiring the way his cum spills out of your rawed hole.
“Let me clean you first, birdie.”
You nearly drift off in the blissed-out feeling that envelops you as he wipes your legs clean with a warm, damp cloth, stroking over tingling bruises with adoration.
When he’s finally satisfied with your state, Jinnie allows you to tug him back into bed with you, arms immediately coiling around your middle to press you into his chest, nose nuzzling against the crown of your head to breathe in your scent.
“I meant every word I said.” He mentions, speaking against your forehead. His lips tickle you with every word and you’re so tempted to kiss him again just because you can. “ I really do love you.”
“I know, Jinnie. I love you too.”
****
Tag list - @defsbxessi @godlyaj @palet-innie
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random vent because i'm numb rn and feel like it
This is a vent post, ill probably talk about su!cide, self h*rm, eating disorders and depression. I’ll also cuss a lot, and things will not be censored. Also, this may seem insensitive to people experiencing any of this, sorry about that. Dont read this if youre triggered by that.
Also, this is my experience with mental health. Everyone deals with it differently.
So, If anyone doesnt know, I have depression and anxiety. And right now, I’m feeling numb as it’s often described by people with depression. But, numb isn’t a very good description. I can still feel. I’ll still smile if you tell me a joke, or if something funny is on a video. I’ll still cry if there’s something super sad. Emotion is just watered down. I feel it, but not as much as I should. Me and my boyfriend were talking, and i couldnt tell him I loved him. It’s not becuase I dont love him, but I just cant feel much of anything, so I dont want to tell him I loved him. Becuase If i did that, I felt as though I was lying. The funniest thing is, I randomly started crying. Still felt nothing, but hey, I had tears streaming down my face. Who fucking knows why.
I havent been doing to great for a while now, but this is the worst i’ve ever gotten. Ive never felt numb before. I mean, I’ve felt myself starting to go through the motions, but i’ve never gone completely numb before. And before this i’ve had a few mental breakdowns. Hell, I’ve sat in a corner twice in the past month or so doing nothing but sobbing and begging myself not to move so I dont grab something sharp and cut myself. (I did not relapse, don’t worry). and recently I completely broke down over simply eating a cereal bar, got through it, ate it. I’m good now.
Figures. That does seem to be my experience. Oh no, big bad issue one time, then magically I just talk myself out of my bullshit, and im fixed. Ha ha, yet I act like I have all these issues. I mean, I didnt even attempt to starve myself, just thought “oh, friends and family wont let me” and didnt. Had a breakdown about a year later, been fine since. Cut for a few months, went to therapy for a few months, stopped cutting. had a few breakdowns about a year or two later, then was fine. was suicidal for a while, went to therapy for a bit, was happy for months. Had breakdowns every now and then, fine now.
ha ha, first time I say alot of this is online. Figures. I’ve done that a lot too. My boyfriend has found out a bit about my depression through this site. Becuase I cant talk to my boyfriend about my shit, but hey random people on the internet! hear about my problems.
So on another note, I recently found a song that describes part of depression pretty well. It’s called “i’m not dead” by boyinaband. it’s linked below, I’ll copy paste the lyrics, and explain how I relate, and what the lyrics mean to me, becuase why not? (lyrics will be in bold)
I'm not dead
I'm not fixed, but I'm not giving up yet
Basically, this means that im still here, im still depressed, but I’m still trying to fight depression.
I'm sick of saying that I still don't have anything done
I hate telling friends I'm trying something just to give it up
I never commit to anything, I just say I’ll do something, then decide I dont want to.
I'm still unsure of my emotional state
I'm still incapable of focusing lately
I don't feel like creating
I'm tired of asking Google how to find motivation
I’ve been on break from writing for months now. tried to get back to it, lost concentration. I think this is self explanatory.
I don't think I've ever made
Something that's as good as I'm capable of
Ha, I dont put in enough effort and commitment to make something as good as possible.
I hate not having a reason to look my best
I only ever take care of myself with the intent to show the internet
I mean, I dont try to show the internet, but I only take care of myself when other people will see me.
If what made me successful was an imposed sense of stress then
I am so so glad that I hated myself
The only thing that makes me do things is extreme stress.
I didn't luck into this position
I struggle with decisions
I mean, im not in any high position, but I do struggle with decisions.
I wouldn't be my own friend
I'm too inconsistent
I’m inconsistent as hell. I’m in like 10 group chats, don't talk in any of them for months, then just show up like “hi, havent talked to you all in ages, but hi”.
Without immense pressure nothing ever gets finished
If these words make it to your ears it'll be a fucking miracle.
Yep. I went on whole rant about this on wattpad. Without pressure to do something, I don’t do it.
I'm fortunate to know more good people than most do
I wish I had more friends I could be physically close to
I dont personally have a lot of friends that dont live in my city, so the last line isnt an issue, but I do know a lot of good people”
I'm pretty good at like 20 different skill sets
At the expense of never being great at any one of them
I’m good at quite a few things. Drawing, math, even writing. But im not great at it. I’m average.
I wish this beat hit harder
I wish more syllables rhymed
I know 99 percent of people really don't mind
I dont personally relate to this, seeing as I dont make music.
I think collaborating forced me to finish things
'Cause I was terrified of wasting famous people's time
Oh yeah. Group projects would not get done if i wasnt scared of wasting my partner’s time.
I wish I could focus on what I define priority
I wish I was as grateful as I want to be
Dont really relate to these things
I wish I knew more people who were mentally stable
But if I did,
I wouldn't let them waste their time on me while I'm disabled
Oh yeah. Id love to have a friend who isnt depressed, but I wouldnt let them see that im fucked up becuase i dont wanna drag them down.
I feel alone
I know I'm not
I have a lot of friends, but I still fell alone in this world
I used to talk to lots of people.
Lately I've stopped
They didn't deserve it,
I've been a terrible friend.
But I couldn't bear to let myself become boring to them
I ignore group chats all the time. no reason. Probably shouldnt.
I don't let myself get my hopes up.
I love people who do.
Something good happens? what could go wrong? that is my thought precess.
I never know if what I say I feel is the truth
I have no damn Idea what I think, so its so hard to know what the truth in my head is.
I wish I didn't instinctively try to be less specific
So more people could relate, when they read along with the lyrics.
Not lyrics, but if i write/explain something, I immediately generalize things so its relateable.
I can be happy in the moment
I am not when I reflect
I smile watching youtube, but then I look back and think about how I wasted time.
I distract myself with gaming, waiting to get better
I hate it
Youtube will cure depression right? /s
I wanna do the most good, and prevent the most hurt
But I've gotta put on my own oxygen mask first
This is just an important phrase I try to remember when I’m down. for people who dont do well with metaphors, he’s saying that if you want to help people, you need to help yourself first.
I can't predict what I'll do.
I can never be sure
I am terrified of making promises any more
I can't face my work,
I feel sick from the word
I genuinely believe I'm capable of changing the world
Don’t relate much here, except for the more positive, upbeat tone the song takes on, and i feel that this part, the part above and everything below is dave fighting his depression.
I still think I can get better
I’m holding onto hope.
I still think I can create and get pleasure from it
I hope so, I want my art and writing to improve.
I'll keep aiming to make my emotion and my logic agree
The eternal stuggle. I always try to get the two to line up, it rarely works. I try to use logic more often though.
And become the best version of me
Always trying to improve myself.
I don't want to stop!
I don't want to stop!
I don't want to stop!
I don't want to stop!
There’s alot this could mean. I dont want to stop creating. I dont want to stop fighting. I dont want to stop getting better. I dont want to stop living. I relate to all these things.
I’ll expand on this more later, it’s too late now for me to continue this
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Initially, I wasn’t overly sure how to interpret our title of ‘black books and black holes’. I’ve felt awfully low for a while, and it’s been heavy on my mind, so I figured I’d take this project as somewhat of an opportunity to reflect on the past, troubles i’ve had as well as using it as a kind of venting of current frustrations. These low points act as my own personal black hole, as I fall down into them for some time. Similarly to how black does, they absorb any kind of light surrounding. To me, at times, this has meant not enjoying things I’ve adored prior - such as spending time with loved ones, music and hobbies. Growing up there were several black holes, but amongst them I have fond memories with my cousins, siblings and childhood friends. Somebody who has always been there for me (whether it be through choice or not) has been my brother. I decided to incorporate pictures of us throughout my little black book as homage to him as he is truly one of my favourite people ever, despite the troubles I don’t think our bond has ever gone away - it’s merely taken small redirections. I have such admiration for him and know I can rely on him and speak free from judgement. Years ago, I believe it was 2013, he fell ill and this meant he had to be hospitalised for a couple months. It was really hard for my family and was of course even more difficult for him. Seeing as he was hospitalised, this meant regular trips to the hospital, on the car journeys we’d always have the same Passenger CD playing in the car. I guess we just never got around to changing it. On this CD was a particular song that we’d all sing along to, which funnily enough is called ‘holes’. Hearing this song now makes me feel so safe and hopeful, knowing it got me as well as my family through a rough period in time. I made sure to incorporate some of the lyrics into one of my book spreads. One line reads, ‘but we carry on’, which has definitely stuck with me.
The constellation element of our project had me reflecting on space and the universe, and what exactly it means to me. Although I’m not too into space, I’m definitely fond of the moon. After my parents divorced, I was left in custody of my mum for a while. A teacher told me to look at the moon, because she’d be looking at it too at the same time and thinking of me. During this time I was living in a troubled home (I made this house the exterior of my book*) and would be heavily supported by her in school. She’d give me notebooks to express myself in and explain what was happening, as well as a departing gift when I inevitably left to go live with my dad here in Bury. Despite being a small part of my life, she still means a lot to me and has a place in my heart. Though not physically present with me anymore, she cared enough to find me years later and reached out to make sure I'm doing fine. It's reassuring knowing there are people as pure as she is. Because of this I dedicated a small section of my book to her that looks like a slither of the moon when the pages are flipped back onto it.
My black book was titled ‘Wailing Ghosts’ by Pu Songling, containing 14 tales of various monsters and creatures, which is fitting to my work revolving around numerous burdens I have that seem to act as these little monsters also, creeping up every now and again. I did consider creating my own ‘chapters’, one for each black hole of mine, but didn’t want to structure my book in that way as I didn’t want to disrupt my creativity or force things.
I say ‘was’ because I actually decided I wasn’t all that keen on how i’d layed my pages out. I instead took a second black book and collaged, reworked and inserted pages into a new one. I’m really glad I did so, as I now have a book I much prefer over the first. An aspect I did keep relatively whole was the swirly, illusion-looking front cover with a hole burned through the centre, almost like a little entrance to another world. Stanley Donwood inspired this page through his swirly seas he often features in his works, as he uses a bold thick line against white ones. I opted to put this page underneath my front cover so it still got to be showcased - only cutting a part off the corners to make sure it fit.
Featured in my book are a few small self portraits, in varying cartoon-y styles. Some are only inspired by my face whilst others were drawn whilst staring into the mirror, then back at the page. Having struggled with low self esteem, there have been times where I don’t even want to perceive myself let alone interpret that into a drawing. Meanwhile doing my book work, I realised I have never drawn a self portrait - not since being a kid anyway - and had even actively avoided doing so during GCSE art. Over the past year or so, I’ve overcome an array of issues I’d had, so found myself able to draw these little portraits. It sounds pretty insane to me now that I would’ve found it so hard before, knowing I enjoyed coming up with various ways to put me in my book, even wanting to print pictures of me (sadly our printers decided to act up so I was not able to implement these). I feature my bathroom mirror on one page as it’s been the target of over-analyzing and although I have come far in self love, it still remains a deadly weapon.
Claude Heath’s sketchy, rough portraits inspired me to create my own. I really enjoy how reckless his style is, as I'm trying to escape the ‘this has to be perfect’ mentality, Heath is a great example of how you don’t need to overthink your work. It can just exist and look cool. It’s fine. This was also encouraged in Thursday drawing sessions where we did blind drawings. I kept this mindset whilst doing my book as I tend to either overwork myself trying to create ‘perfect’ or do absolutely nothing, so I went with the flow of how my book panned out.
Seeing as my work theme is a little on the darker side, I considered subduing the colours or perhaps even going full black and white. However, I love utilising colour in my art and felt this would make me feel unmotivated and uninspired. Especially seeing as this book is about me, it’s not insensitive to anybody to make it colorful and exciting. So, I have. Plus, despite everything I’m still smiling so I wanted to convey that somehow. Sort of, making the best out of bad situations. Damien Hirst’s usage of colours influenced me to just have fun with it, in the same way he does when creating his works.
Throughout my book I have experimented with oil pastel, paint, staples, collage, rorschach ink blotting, screen printing, spray paint, photocopied pictures, flip book, tracing paper, washi tape and i’m sure there’s more. Point is, I wanted to cover a wide range of techniques seeing as there were many pages. In doing so I believe this was the best way as it meant there was a flow of ideas coming as I worked. I’ve learned that I love a range of ways of working as it keeps my brain ticking, meaning the work doesn’t feel stagnant and dull. Sadly there were lots more ideas I had for what to do into my book, but due to various reasons I couldn't. Such as wanting to sew using a sewing machine into my book, I tried to set my sewing machine up but when I would go to sew the thread would snap. But I believe it’s definitely something worth trying another time, as I was intrigued to see how it’d turn out. I also wanted to make a better flip book from the corner of my little page (see animation on blog) as it’s really simplistic. But drawing the little stick men alone took me an hour or so, and I didn’t see that being of much importance compared to getting actual pages filled out. Thus, I left it as a simple stickman. That being said I think the stick man illustrates the cycle of being in a slump, which is relatable to how lockdown is feeling and fits well with my book contents. I felt inspired by an artist who goes by ‘inhalerqueen’ (Amanda) on tiktok, who draws a simple, silhouette-like figure repeatedly. She calls this figure ‘void’ and i’d consider her work to be vent art, expressing how she feels. Originally I wanted to make my stick men look like void, however I don’t think that would be all that beneficial/change the effectiveness and would only take up more time.
If I were to have a soundtrack to my work I would opt for ‘Yellow’ by Coldplay. Reason being, regardless of my state of mind I return to this song and feel the same listening through every time. It’s such a lovely song and just feels like peace, as cheesy as that may sound considering Coldplay is very much dad music. It reminds me of my yellows, and how much they mean to me. Even with the black, I have my yellows. Lyrics to the song can be found in my book also.
Overall, I’m relatively pleased with my work. There’s no doubt things I would do differently, but I’m glad I’ve had this experience and was able to vent a little similarly to how Amanda does. In future I hope to perhaps recreate this book and treat it as kind of a ‘rough’ or ‘plan’ for a more refined and thought-out version, perhaps this time with chapters like I'd considered and with ideas I didn’t get to delve into. There are pages I’m not so keen on, but I’m proud of myself for just leaving them as opposed to overworking them and/or scrapping them just because they aren’t what I like. I love the pictures of me and my brother, if I could I would’ve collaged more into my book however our printer simply wouldn’t allow it. As well as the exterior of the book, as I think it adds a personal element as opposed to being left as it was.
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My lockdown feels
Ever since lockdown begun at the end of March I’ve felt confident that we will get though this as our government have handled the situation expertly and with confidence, there is nothing better than feeling like you are in the best hands and when the whole community does what they are told you know we will be ok. The media briefings were very informative and the experts always gave clear and concise information. I’ve always felt our community spirit would show its true self if it had to and although I never would have foreseen or indeed have wanted to predict a pandemic, these times have shown that we do indeed live on an amazing island full of incredible people.
I didn’t work for 6 weeks so I had plenty of time to do all those odd jobs around home that of course I’ve been putting off time and time again, from photo editing to spring cleaning to craft making and even finally starting to research our family tree. However I also felt incredibly guilty as my work place was still open, we had to adhere to government guidelines so we were only allowed 2 people on site at any one time. Naturally the more experienced machine operators with the machines we could run were called in, I know I wasn’t one of them but I wished I could help. 6 weeks after lockdown begun the guidelines were relaxed a little so we were allowed 5 people on site, honestly I still wouldn’t have been first on the list to be called in but I wanted to help and was prepared to learn a new machine so I got the call which I was very grateful for.
It’s weird but I was excited about going back to work, something I didn’t think I would be as I have been a little unhappy there in the last year or so. I’m not sure if it had more to do with the fact I was getting a bit bored at home, I am not sure bored is the right word as there was plenty I could do but I just couldn’t motivate myself and lazed around way too much. Maybe the whole situation was getting to me and I wasn’t allowing myself to really contemplate it, there were times i tried to reflect on everything that was going on but I would just block those feelings as they just seemed too unrealistic.
Now I am back at work, although on a different shift pattern to normal but then again what is normal at the moment, and I find myself thinking that I could have done so much more over those 6 weeks. I could have learnt a new language, learnt more on photo editing, learnt more on creative writing I mean the list goes on. I did listen to lots of book summaries on leadership and management on an app that work set up for us but well it was more fun to watch animal videos on Facebook or Tiktok videos.
I went on a few walks during the first month of lockdown, we were allowed out for a maximum of 2 hours exercise per day and preferably direct from your home so not driving to a location. Do you know even writing that feels so unreal, allowed out?! I mean what the heck! Anyway it was really nice seeing all the rainbow art and the Guernsey bunting people had put out, it really proved that the whole Guernsey community were really all in this together.
Unfortunately and very sadly we had to have our cat put down early on in lockdown, she started having bad seizures and along with slightly dodgy kidneys and age not being on her side (she was 20!) the vets really couldn’t do anything for her. It was heartbreaking seeing her have the seizures and deteriorate so quickly in such a short space of time, we didn’t want her to suffer any longer but it is always such an awful decision. I read something somewhere that said they are compassionate cuddle buddies and empathetic, emotional companions, at times during lockdown that’s exactly what I really needed so it was really hard not having that.
With all my family shielding I went and did the grocery shopping, we also got deliveries but there was always something you just couldn’t get delivered. Most of the time I found the experience ok, the shops were great with all the safety procedures put in place correctly but of course you always get people who push the limits. I only found one shopping experience pretty horrendous and it was down to people not wanting to observe the 2 metre social distancing rule and generally pushing in, I didn’t think I really suffered with anxiety until then but luckily I managed to keep myself calm, stepped back and took my time.
That’s the thing I’ve noticed over lockdown especially on social media that people are saying some really silly stuff, generally I think a lot of people even though they probably didn’t realise it and wouldn’t admit it but they were scared. I read so much stuff that irritated me but I just put it down to them maybe feeling lonely and wanting to vent without thinking and realising exactly what they were saying and the consequences of it, I’m sure now things have calmed down a bit that some will regret what they said.
I think that these strange times have made me take a step back and think what do I really want from my life, do I still want to be in the job that I’m in which is ok but not really want I want to be doing long term. To be fair the company have been amazing during this situation and I feel incredibly lucky to work for them and to have been supported so well by them. I also want to travel the world however I tend to spend a lot of money on one or two big holidays a year so maybe I should spend less on each holiday and go on more smaller ones, I guess these times really have been like a huge pause for some people and I am sure many have made some life changing decisions.
So after however many days, feels like so much longer, lockdown is over on the beautiful island of Guernsey where I live, no queuing to get in shops, no social distancing required and every shop, bar and restaurant is open. Unfortunately a few places have decided not to reopen which is really sad, now is the time we really must support our local businesses. We still have controls on our border so only essential travel in and out of the island allowed with strict self isolating rules in place, I think it will be a while before we open them fully as other places still do not have the virus under control.
For now though it is great to be able to meet with family and friends, go back to our favourite cafes and restaurants and enjoy great food and company, but most of all it is great to be able to hug people again!
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A Palette of Emotions - Artist!Taehyng x Teacher!Reader - Chapter 12 - Friday Night Approaches
Synopsis: Taehyung dreams of being a professional and famous artist one day, but finds that the sea of creativity can be lurking with blood hungry sharks, as well as bland, motionless starfish. Swimming through the sea of opportunities somehow washed him up onto the shore of Bright Star Preschool, as an art teacher. This wasn’t where he expected to be 4 years into his career, but anything to get his big break though, right?
Feat. BTS, TXT, ITZY, Jisoo (BlackPink), Taeyong (NCT)
Genre: Romance, Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Drama, School Setting, Working!AU
Length: approx. 4.6k words
Chapter 12 - Friday Night Approaches
“Hyung?”
“And he just asks her out, practically in front of the whole class! That was so inappropriate, don’t you think, Jungkook?”
“Uh-huh…” The poor boy had been sitting on Taehyung’s couch for about an hour. He arrived as soon as Taehyung got off of work that day, excited for his first meeting with his new mentor. He wasn’t sure what he was going to expect, but he did not expect it to be this. Jungkook held a manila folder in his grasp, lips pursed together as he watched the black-haired teacher storm back and forth before him.
“I knew it. God, maybe I should call his boss about how inappropriate he was, maybe that’ll teach them.”
“Didn’t she say not to get involved in her business? You think that will solve it?”
“How will she know it was me who called? I won’t give them my name.” Taehyung seemed a little too proud of his logic, putting his hands on his hips. Jungkook blinked, staring up at his Hyung, confusion etched all over his features. “…What?”
“Hyung…you’re the only one who seems bothered about this. Why would Mr. Kim call his boss on himself, and why wouldn’t she do it if she’s upset that it happened? Why would she have even said yes if she didn’t want to go? Her friend, Hoseok-Hyung doesn’t seem to be this passionate about it.” Taehyung crossed his arms, brows furrowed together in annoyance.
“Yes, he is. I saw it in his eyes, he’s just too nice to say anything.”
“Uh…uh-huh.” Jungkook leaned back on the couch. “Wasn’t she mean to you just a few weeks ago? Why do you suddenly care?”
“Well yeah, but…well, we’re not fighting anymore. At least I don’t think…” Taehyung ran a hand through his hair, and Jungkook felt his shoulders slump when Taehyung continued his frantic pacing back and forth in front of the couch. “Besides, whether she hated me or not, Namjoon is creepy. I’m just trying to protect her.”
“…Mr. Kim is my boss.” Jungkook hummed. Taehyung groaned.
“So, you’re biased.”
“I think you’re overreacting,” Jungkook said. “Mr. Kim is really nice and probably too awkward for his good. He has a good son and is a good father. He has a good job and is well respected. I think you should just let her go on the dates and figure it out for herself.” Jungkook watched Taehyung cross his arms and hum. “…Unless you-.”
“What? Unless I what, Jungkook?” Taehyung asked, eyes darting in the younger boy’s direction. When he saw the boy jump just slightly, he blinked. “…Sorry.” A playful smirk formed across the younger boy’s face, and that made Taehyung feel a world of uneasy. Why was he smirking?
“Nothing. Now-.” Taehyung saw Jungkook push a manila envelope in his direction. “Will you finally look at my work?” Taehyung sighed, nodding as he took the folder from him. Taehyung plopped on the couch beside him, and Jungkook shimmed over just slightly to offer him some room.
“Alright, alright. I’m sorry, you’re right. I appreciate you letting me vent about your boss for an hour.” He hummed, and Jungkook only chuckled a bit. “Let’s see what we got here…” When Taehyung flipped open the manila envelope, he was expecting some decent, yet still pretty amateur works. He was expecting colors to be mixed adequately, maybe some smudging or poor color choices. Something he could work on. Just ….
…something…
When Taehyung opened the folder and looked at the first picture inside, it felt as if Taehyung had been transported to a beautiful serene lake in the middle of spring, somewhere secluded, like the countryside or a foreign land. The colors were muted, but still noticeable. The peaks of the mountains in the distance were beautifully pointy, not a drop of paint was out of place. The lake was so crystal clear, Taehyung had to double-take that he didn’t see his reflection. This painting was…stunning.
Taehyung lifted his head, expression still of shock and confusion, as he stared at the kid before him. Jungkook blinked, seemingly nervous – why the fuck was he nervous – about what Taehyung had to say. Taehyung sighed, flipping to the second picture in his portfolio. This one looked as if it has been drawn with only colored pens, but it was once again a vision. A shadowy man stared back at him, only a few features heavily decorated with color to bring out his eyes, nose contour, or the scar the dragged red pen eerily down his left eye. Taehyung had to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.
“What do you think?” he heard Jungkook asked. Taehyung looked in his direction.
“What do I think? I think you’re fucking with me.” Taehyung handed Jungkook back the folder. Almost immediately, he took it, the younger-looking confused, more so than he had all evening. “You think I’m a joke or something?”
“What? N-no, of course not!” He gasped.
“Your art is leagues better than mine and you want me to mentor you? I don’t buy it.” Jungkook flipped open the folder once again, and Taehyung heard a frantic whimper emit from the boy’s mouth. Finally, he held up the mountain painting again.
“Like I said at the art festival, Hyung. I just paint it. You paint.”
“I still have no fucking idea what that means.” Taehyung huffed.
“Everything I’ve ever seen you do, from your big canvases to your tiny sketches, you do with passion. I don’t…I don’t have that. I just paint, I just put things together. It looks nice, I guess, but if someone looked at this, what would they think? ‘It’s pretty?’, ‘He’s talented?’ I got into your artwork because it tells a story, that’s what inspired me to do my paintings. But when I did….” Taehyung watched Jungkook plopped the picture down onto the folder again. “I didn’t feel anything. I didn’t feel pride or passion, and that’ll convey in my work. You say so yourself all over social media that your emotions tell a story.”
“…I do, don’t I?” Taehyung leaned back in his seat and groaned. “So, you…want me to teach you how to be passionate?”
“Mhm.” Jungkook nodded, as eager as ever. Taehyung had to admit, Jungkook was too hard to resist with that little doe-eyed stare. He couldn’t believe this was happening, he had no idea how to teach someone how to find their passion, he just had no idea!
“Okay, I guess I don’t have much else to lose.” He huffed. He could see Jungkook beam a little smile in excitement. “I have no idea when I’m going to be free, though. Maybe weekends?”
“Sure. I usually know far in advance when Mr. Kim needs me to babysit Kai, so I can work around that.” Taehyung nodded. “I look forward to working with you.” He said happily. Taehyung couldn’t help but smile a bit at his little friend.
“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jungkook watched Taehyung get off the couch and make his way towards the kitchen. “Let me grab us something to drink.” He hummed, before disappearing behind the entranceway. Jungkook scanned the room, the sound of distant water running on the sink the only real noise he could hear. Jungkook stood up, walking towards the walls that were decorated with all of Taehyung’s finished canvases. They added so much clutter to the room, yet so much color and personality. Jungkook couldn’t help but admire each one that his eyes fell upon.
“He is something, isn’t he?” Jungkook mumbled to himself. As his eyes continued to scan, they landed on his desk, as dirty as ever. Multiple paintbrushes poked out from a white mug, which held down a stack of scattered papers. “Wow…” Jungkook walked over, sticking his hands in his pockets as he leaned in to get a closer look. When he did, he noticed a smaller piece of paper resting on the top of his most current stack of progress. When he got a closer look, he noticed a familiar face doodled on one of the pictures. He noticed two space buns, wrapped in uncolored ribbon. He noticed a smile spreading ear to ear and eyes dotted with excitement and wonder.
He noticed you, and quite frankly, he didn’t expect to.
“Aw…” He pursed his lips. Just as he lifted his hand to pick up the paper, he heard a voice.
“Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?” When Jungkook looked up, he saw Taehyung walking in his direction, two cups of water in his hands. Jungkook could see he wasn’t pleased with how he caught Jungkook.
“Sorry, I just got distracted looking around,” Jungkook muttered sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. Taehyung sighed, simply passing Jungkook the cup, which he took quickly. “…I saw your drawing of-.”
“Why are you snooping?” Taehyung asked again.
Jungkook avoided the question with a smile. “It looks nice. Just like her too. Is it a present for her?”
“What? No way.” An annoyed Taehyung lifted the cup of water to his mouth, sipping the contents down eagerly. Jungkook pursed his lips. “It’s just something I made.”
“I think she would like it.���
“No, she wouldn’t. She would probably think I was weird.”
“Why would she?” Jungkook paused after his initial question. Then, a grin formed on his face, one Taehyung was starting to realize he wasn’t too big of a fan of the more he saw it.
“You’re making that face again.” Taehyung hissed, eyes narrowing.
“I knew it. You like her, don’t you?” He asked. Taehyung, at that moment, wanted to die. He wanted to curl up in a ball and hide away from the rest of the world. He never wanted to come back out into the world. Just as Jungkook said that another deep voice hit the back of his mind like a vicious drum.
Do you have a crush on her or something?
“Like her? Jungkook, come on? I know I didn’t know you a few months ago, but she wasn’t the nicest to me for the longest time.”
“And you return the favor of constant verbal abuse through drawing a stunning picture that identifies all of her best features?” Jungkook snorted. “You don’t hold a grudge long, do you?”
As Jungkook finally took a sip of his drink, Taehyung felt his eyebrow twitch. “You damn brat.”
“I’m just saying. If you like her, it’s very obvious.”
“I don’t like her. Not in the way you think, anyway. Stop minding other people’s business, and that’s the last time I’m going to tell you.” Jungkook’s devilish smile diminished into a pout, and he nodded.
“Right…sorry, Hyung.” He said. Taehyung sighed, trying to hide his blush behind the glass cup he pressed between his lips. It didn’t work.
“It’s fine, just forget it.” He huffed. “So, do you plan to stay for dinner? Because I’m ordering pizza.”
“Oh no. My mom wants me home tonight. I’m behind on my homework and she doesn’t want me out of the house until it’s done.”
Taehyung blinked, raising an eyebrow. “So…how did you end up here?” Once again, that devilish grin formed on the younger boy’s face.
“I snuck out.” He said. Taehyung stood up, slapping the boy on the shoulder as he began to laugh. “I know, I know. I don’t do it often, but I wanted to come and see you as soon as I could to make sure you’d take me on.”
“I’m not taking you on anything until you catch up on your studies, you little punk!” Taehyung snapped, nudging Jungkook once again as he grinned. “Get home and catch up on your studies, they’re important, you know.”
“I know, I know. Okay, I’m going.” Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh as he was shoved towards the door by Taehyung. “Bye, Hyung.” He grinned.
“Yeah, get home safe,” Taehyung said, waving the boy off as he headed down the hallway. Taehyung closed the door, locking it before walking towards his kitchen and tossing himself into one of the chairs. Slowly, he lowered his head onto the table and let out a frustrated groan. “I’m turning into my mother…” he mumbled silently to himself, dread washing over him at the thought. As that thought came and went into his mind, yet another was sure to follow right behind it.
Jungkook was probably right, and that thought was beginning to piss him off.
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“What are you going to wear?” Hoseok asked, poking his head up from the yellow table in the room that he was currently scrubbing violently with soap and water. You glanced over at him, tugging your hair back so it did not cover your eyes.
“Wear? I have no idea.” You said simply.
“Well, where is he taking you?”
“He said to dinner. He made reservations at a nice place.”
“Oooh? Where?” You could hear that Hoseok sounded like he was forcing the conversation just slightly. It annoyed you whenever he would do this.
“He said it’s a surprise.” He had told you over the phone last night, but with Hoseok being this pushy, you had no intention of sharing that information with him. A childish whine emanated from his lips, but he knew you stood your ground, and thus, stopped pestering. “Why do you care anyway? You have your own life, Hobi.”
“I know, I just like being in the know about things, I guess.”
“I know. You always have.” You huffed, earning a giggle from your friend. “If you are so curious, then I’ll tell you Monday morning.”
“What?! Not even Friday night? I have to wait for the entire weekend?” The disbelief in his voice made you have to cover your mouth for a laugh, especially when he whined your name. “Oh come on, now, I don’t have to deal with children in this room for another 20 minutes, so don’t go all actor Hoseok on me.” Hoseok huffed, putting his hands on his hips.
“Okay, fine, you win.” He said. You watched as he walked towards the cabinet in the far-left corner of the room, storing away the cleaning supplies for later.
“Can you do me a favor? Maybe it’ll speed time up for you.” You hummed. Hoseok turned to you as you collected a stack of hastily put together works, handing it to him. “Can you hang up these crafts? Taehyung made them earlier this week and the kids wanted them up on the bulletin board outside. I thought we could surprise them with it.”
“Sure. But only for a price.” Hoseok said. Your eyebrow cocked in confusion as to what he meant by price. “I get to take you on a date too~.” He grinned.
“A date? Hmmm…how about we do dinner, wine, and movies on Friday night soon? Like old times?” You asked. Hoseok’s lips tugged together in a tight line as he thought about it, before finally nodding.
“Deal.” You passed him the crafts, and Hoseok spun on his heel, heading out the door towards the bulletin board outside of the room. He quickly got to work making room to hang up their glued together rainbows and cotton-ball clouds, which they made in anticipation of the middle of the week thunderstorms. Hoseok began stapling projects up, humming a little tune as he worked.
He was so in his world, that he began thinking about Friday. He did have a plan, he normally did if they were not with you, but that wasn’t the point. You never knew how much your date nights killed him on the inside, how much more alone he felt, knowing you were with another guy, laughing and smiling arm and arm. It killed him just to think about, which is why he busied his schedules those nights as much as he could. Your nights with him were fun, and meant the world to him, but were few and far between due to your heavy workloads. Anytime you spent together outside of the building was usually to plan lessons, create manipulatives and handouts, or plan exciting events. Anytime with you with good for him, though, he had no room to complain when you were by his side.
Hoseok was so in his world, that he didn’t hear the sound of a deep voice approaching until the word “HYUNG?!” right in his ear made him jump six feet in the air. When he looked over his shoulder, Taehyung was standing there, a concerned look on his face. “You okay? You were spacing out.”
“Oh yeah, just in my world.” Hoseok chuckled a bit. “Did you need something?”
“What are you doing Friday night?” Taehyung asked curiously. Hoseok blinked.
Is this kid reading my mind?
“Oh uh, well I have dinner plans with my older sister,” Hoseok said. He saw Taehyung’s shoulders slump. “Sorry, why? Something up?”
“No. I just wanted to make plans with someone.”
“Aww, I’m sorry. Next time, okay?” Hoseok grinned, turning to pat Taehyung on the shoulder. Taehyung nodded. “Good, I’ll clear my schedule.” Hoseok immediately turned back to the bulletin board. “They look cute hung up, don’t you think?”
“Oh yeah.” Taehyung scanned the entire bulletin board as it began to get filled up with colorful rainbows and puffy clouds. “It looks really cute. I’m glad she agreed to hang them up over here.” Hoseok nodded in agreement. Then, he watched Taehyung squeeze by him, making his way into your classroom.
You were busy cleaning up the final parts of the room when Taehyung walked in. You smiled, tucking hair behind your ear. “Morning.” You said happily.
“Hey.” Taehyung hummed, smiling a bit. “I uh…just wanted to apologize about getting in your business yesterday. Not sure what’s come over me, heh…” You chuckled.
“It’s whatever. I appreciate the apology though, and I’m sure your intentions are only good.” Taehyung nodded, and you chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Just…mind your business, okay?” You teased, and Taehyung had to chuckle. There was a moment of silence that fell over you two until you clapped your hands against your dress. “Okay! Well, I need to finish setting up, so-.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry. I’ll go.” Taehyung nodded, waving his hand before leaving you alone in the room. When he stepped out, he waved to Hoseok before heading into his room and closing the door behind him. When he was alone in his room, he let out a soft sigh.
He wasn’t sorry about getting into her business, but he would be damned if he let their relationship sour once again because of his idiocy.
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Taehyung sat lazily on his couch, his limbs sprawled out as far as they would allow, one draped over the back of the couch while the other rested down the side and onto the floor. His feet were propped up on the other end, swaying back and forth as if they had a mind of their own. Taehyung knew tonight was the night Namjoon had finally succeeded in landed a date with you, and ever since he knew about it, he was dreading the day. The day finally arrived, and all he felt was an immense sense of jealousy and annoyance. He didn’t care about Namjoon, no matter what Jimin said about him or how kind and well-raised his son seemed to be. He was pushy and clingy and it wasn’t cute, at least not to him. But you didn’t seem to want to hear it, brushing off Taehyung’s concerns as nothing but a fit of ridiculous jealousy. That’s what all his friends said it was, but it still hurt! The lonely single held a beer tightly in his hand that rested on the floor, only raising it to bring the opening of the can to his lips and take a sip. Everyone was busy tonight, everyone except for Taehyung. He didn’t even have the inspiration to throw himself into his work, his works in progress remaining in progress, and most likely will for the rest of the night.
I should probably do something to get my mind off of it. He thought to himself. Groaning, Taehyung ripped himself off of the couch, running his hand through his hair as he walked to his desk. He plopped himself down on the chair and scanned the piles of various doodles. His hand landed on top of them gently, spreading them out so that he could get a better view. As he scanned his work, the multiple doodles he had done of you over the past few weeks had felt as if he was staring back. They were nothing amazing, nothing groundbreaking, but every time he saw them, he felt a bit happier. As he rested back in his seat, he heard a faint vibrating noise coming from his coffee table. Spinning around, he saw his phone, glowing and shaking as it desperately called for Taehyung to come to pick it up. He was quick to oblige, leaning forward and grabbing ahold of his phone. As he did, a familiar face showed up on the caller ID. Hoseok-Hyung, squished between two sun emojis, flashed on top of a picture of Hoseok and Taehyung that Jimin had taken at the art show. Hoseok and Taehyung had found some paper mâché masks at one of the vendor spots and had put them on with childlike excitement. Taehyung quickly answered the call.
“Hello?” He hummed.
“Want to go get dinner?” Hoseok’s voice hummed on the other end.
“Dinner? I thought you had plans tonight with your sister.”
“I did. She had to reschedule last minute. She was called into work to fix something with her fashion line.” Hoseok explained. “She already made the reservation for two at a restaurant near me, so she said I could still use it. So, I thought I would invite you. I don’t want to eat alone, hehe.”
“Uhm….” Taehyung looked over at the clock on the wall. It was already close to 9 p.m. It was just now that Taehyung realized he was starving. Alcohol didn’t seem to count as dinner for him, did it? “Can you give me fifteen minutes?”
“Yeah! I’ll send the address and wait outside for you. See you soon~.”
“Bye, Hyung,” Taehyung said before he heard his friend hang up. Taehyung spun back around to his sea of pictures and pencil stacks just staring at him in the face. He wasn’t sure how long he had done that, but he felt his stomach grumble again, and he finally got up and went into his room to make himself look somewhat presentable.
Hopefully, this would be enough to take his mind off of everything else.
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“Taehyung! Over here!” Hoseok shouted, his high-pitched voice piercing through the crowd of people lingering in and around the restaurant’s entrance. Taehyung fixed his jacket just slightly as he approached his friend.
“Hope I’m not late.” He said. “The train was a few minutes behind schedule.” Hoseok shrugged.
“Not a problem. Hope you’re hungry.” With a friendly, yet firm pat on the shoulder, Taehyung was led into the restaurant with his Hyung. The restaurant was stunning, brightly lit by tons of massive chandeliers that covered the entirety of the tall ceilings. Archways led guests into different areas of the establishment, each one even more than the last. As Taehyung looked around, he saw beautiful women adorning stunning dresses and jewels, while the men wore freshly pressed suits and shoes. Taehyung felt as if he was back at Mr. Oh’s art show, just by looking at the people there. This was most likely where people like that got together, and honestly, it was extremely intimidating. He watched as Hoseok followed the hostess, both of them chatting. Taehyung kept his hands in his pockets as he followed silently, his teeth chewing on the inside of his bottom lip a bit.
“Here you are.” The hostess said, motioning to their elegant booth. Taehyung and Hoseok thanked the man before they slid into the booth. Taehyung continued to look around, and Hoseok smiled.
“You look overwhelmed.” He said.
“I didn’t think we’d be going somewhere this elaborate. How can you afford this on your teacher’s salary?”
“My sister made the reservation, I said. She’s made a pretty big name for herself on Instagram with her fashion line.”
“Oh wow,” Taehyung said. “I never knew that.”
“She doesn’t like me talking about it too much,” Hoseok admitted.
“I feel like you’re trying to ask me out with this.” Taehyung joked, and Hoseok laughed.
“Noooooo.” Hoseok hummed. “I didn’t offer to pay for your half after all.” When he saw Taehyung’s eyes go extremely wide, he began to laugh. “I’m kidding.”
“Thank God. I doubt I could’ve ever afforded anything. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much money in my life.” Hoseok chuckled as the waiter approached once again, filling both of their glasses with some sparkling water before offering them menus. He greeted himself, shared off the specials, and then left them alone to make their decisions for a few moments. Taehyung skimmed the page of options with wide eyes, unsure what he should pick. There weren’t many options, but everyone left his mouth-watering from the description below. By the time he finally made a decision and set his menu down, Hoseok had already leaned back in his seat, fiddling with his glass of water.
“Know what you want?” He asked curiously. Taehyung nodded. “Awesome.” He grinned. The waiter approached their table a few moments later, a smile on his face as Hoseok and Taehyung prepared to share their orders. As Hoseok was sharing him, Taehyung looked around, still wanting to take in the breathtaking scenery before him. It felt as if he had stepped into a painting, and he couldn’t stop staring. He wasn’t staring at anything specific, just staring. However, as his eyes scanned the massive archway leading into their section of the restaurant, he caught a familiar sight. Behind the same hostess that had seated them, the six-foot-tall Kim Namjoon was strolling in. His hair was slicked back, and he was wearing yet another pressed suit, much like all of the other men in the room, however, he was all black. The undershirt, the tuxedo jacket, even the tie. It was all black. Taehyung had to admit, even if it was only to himself, he looked pretty dashing. Kim Taehyung felt his ears boil a stinging red at the sight of the smug bastard, wanting to peel his eyes away the moment he laid his eyes on him.
However, as soon as he saw the lady on Kim Namjoon’s arm, his eyes refused to pull away even for a mere second to blink.
You were strolling beside Kim Namjoon, wearing a stunning white party dress. It fell to your knees, where it flared out into beautifully laid creases and folds. The top of the dress exposed the lovely necklace adorning your neck, as the dress’s sleeves were off the shoulder, wrapping around your arms. Your hair was out of its usual school bun or ponytail. It was the first time he had to seem your full head of hair, how lovely it flowed down your back, and framed your face. He could see traces of light makeup on your face, which was pretty good since he was looking from a distance. As he took one final look over you, he saw your feet adorning white heels. That final look was enough to catch his entire breath in his throat.
You were an absolute vision, and he would be lying if he knew he wanted so badly to be the man on your arm.
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Pink! Ch. 5: The Stick Up
*Beetlejuice/Original Female Character. Adult situations. 18+ only.*
Summary: After six breather years away, Beetlejuice returns to find the house on the hill overrun by coeds. Lydia allows him to stay, but has rules. Things get more interesting when Beck, one of the housemates, reveals she can see him. Following a sordid affair, Beetlejuice finds himself lingering around Beck more and more. But will her affection last? And why does it seem to bother Lydia so much?
Chapter 1: The Setup
Chapter 2: The Buzzkill Date
Chapter 3: The Ex Lover
Chapter 4: The Late Date
DMs are always open for thoughts, feedback and suggestions. Ty. On AO3 as CopperContessa_13
Beetlejuice was in denial and Beck was stubborn.
He thought it would only be hours until she fell into his arms and confessed her love. It bruised his ego a bit when she didn't. She thought he’d get over it and fuck her mouth or something. Alas.
At least she got to finish some of her work at home now that Beetlejuice was holing himself up in the attic. Beck was pouring over a project one day when the sound of his laugh rumbled through her ceiling vent. She could hear Lydia’s voice, too, faintly. It sounded like she was telling him a joke.
Hm.
Beck paused to look at where the snowman outside her window used to be. In the week or two that had passed, it’d been reduced to nothing more than an icy pile under layers of new snow. She’d removed its scarf before it, too, got buried. Not because she wanted to keep it or anything, she told herself, it was just because she didn’t want it to ruin the house’s shingles.
She stared at the scarf, now neatly folded on her dresser. As soon as he stopped pouting, Beck convinced herself, she'd give it right back.
The sound of Beetlejuice and Lydia laughing reverberated through the vent again. Beck sighed audibly before going back to her work.
She truly did not miss him, but his absence was notable.
As the days passed, Beetlejuice became hungry for any kind of attention from Beck— positive or negative.
The housemates used to be just apathetic to her presence, but they started to despise her. Kendra got mad when she found her leftover containers in Beck’s trash can. Ash cried when they found their poetry journal had the word “shit” written on every page in Beck’s distinctive handwriting. That made Cici furious. Lillian was willing to ignore all the drama until the art project she had laid out on the floor was destroyed by someone stepping on it. The footprint suspiciously matched the tread on Beck’s boots.
Lydia didn’t want to intervene, but decided she had to do something before retaliation started.
When she entered the attic, Beetlejuice was laying across the sofa. At least, what remained of the sofa. In his plight to make the space more homey, he’d torn up the cushions and made something of a nest out of the fluff.
One hand propped his head up while the other was draped along the curve of his body. His tie was loose and a couple of shirt buttons were undone.
He started talking as the door creaked open, but quickly changed gears when he realized who it was.
“I knew you'd be ba-- Oh! It’s just you again. Hey, kid.”
“I really wish you’d stop doing that. She’s not going to come back until you stop.”
“Stop what, Lyds?” he said innocently. “I don’t have the faintest clue what you're talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb,” she drawled while crossing her arms. “I know you ate Ken’s food, mimicked Beck’s handwriting to ruin Ash’s poetry and stepped through Lillian’s art. You need to stop before they do something back.”
“Fine. Be that way,” he smirked while readjusting his shirt and tie. “And for the record, babes? Beck was the one that stepped through Lil’s canvas. That one is all on her.”
“There’s still consequences for the other things! I know you listen to her through the vent all the time. Don’t you hear her calling around asking about other lease options? Is it really going to be any better for you if she moves?!”
Beetlejuice turned to lay on his back. He kicked his feet up on the armrest and casually started picking at something under his fingernail.
“I could follow her if I wanted to. And whatever the housemates can retaliate with isn’t even half of what I can do. Trust me, Lyds. I could make things a lot worse for Beck.”
Lydia’s expression darkened. He looked back at her smugly, unaffected by her glare.
“Make them worse?” Lydia asked, stepping towards him threateningly. “What, are you going to kill her if she doesn’t give you what you want? Are you going to threaten her like you did my family?”
His not-beating heart dropped when she said those words.
“My own father wouldn’t speak to me for two whole months after I told him I let you come back. I told them that you’re different, but it’s not really a coincidence that they haven’t stopped by in the last eight months. Adam and Barbara were just as upset!” Lydia fumed.
Beetlejuice’s arrogant confidence disappeared completely. He sat up, purple starting to rise from the roots of his hair.
“This is how you repay me for all the grief I've gotten?” she continued. “By sleeping with my ex-girlfriend and then messing with the whole house because she won't commit to you?”
“I’ll stop antagonizing everyone, I promise,” Beetlejuice pleaded. “I’ve changed. You know I have, Lydia. It’s just that some habits are harder to shake than others.”
She stared at him for a long time before letting out a breath she seemed to be holding in.
“Okay. But I mean it, Beej. No more hurting people.”
He nodded, but mumbled something under his breath.
“Do you have something to say?” Lydia challenged.
“No, I don’t. It’s just…”
“What?”
“I-I don’t know why you’re defending Beck after… everything.”
“Why’s that?”
Beetlejuice rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Well, it's not like you love her or anything,” he said.
“Do you?” Lydia replied, slightly scandalized.
Sprigs of pink shot into his hair. He babbled while running a hand over his scalp in a subconscious gesture to hide it.
“Well, I don’t think I love her but—”
“Because what you’re doing to her is not love,” she interrupted.
His expression fell.
“I’m not sure if I’ve ever really loved someone romantically, Beej, but I know what it’s supposed to look like. Love is being kind to someone even when you’re mad at them. It’s about caring for them despite their flaws.”
He hesitated before responding.
“It’s not like I’ve had a bunch of good role models to show me how it’s done, Lydia,” he chuckled nervously while rubbing the back of his head.
“Hey,” she said, walking over to sit on the armrest closest to him.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“Gross,” Beetlejuice snorted.
Lydia giggled. He leaned his head against her arm as she reassuringly stroked his hair. He didn’t say much to her for a minute, but she knew her words meant a lot from the bolts of lime green that popped up under her palm.
“You just have to be patient,” she said while flicking a dead bug off his shoulder. “I think she’ll come around. It might take until after winter break, but—”
“After winter break?! How long is that for?” Beetlejuice whined.
“I dunno. It starts in mid-December and goes on for a few weeks? So, early January?”
He groaned.
“I know it sucks, but you need to give her space. You need to stop sabotaging your relationships with people.”
“When have I ever sabotaged anything?!”
He shrank under the glare she shot him.
“Alright, alright. I get it. Stop looking at me like that.”
⁂
Beetlejuice didn’t think much of it when he heard someone ascending the attic steps early on a Saturday morning. The floorboards outside the attic door creaked like someone was waiting there. No one came in, though.
Weird that Lydia wouldn’t just walk in like always, he thought. Maybe she forgot something in her room and went back downstairs?
Seconds later, realization hit him like a bus.
“Beck!” he called.
Beetlejuice nearly fell over himself as he rushed to the door, anxious to let her in.
He was suddenly overwhelmed with want again. His nerve endings felt like they would burst at just the thought of holding her again. He couldn’t wait to hug her tightly and breathe in the sweet smell of her hair. He’d kiss her and caress her until she moaned his name three times.
Then, he’d plow her into the fucking floorboards— no! Wait! He’d make love to her.
Make. Love.
The epiphany came too late, though.
He flung the door open just in time to hear the lock on the front door click.
Beetlejuice wanted to chase after her, follow her home, even. But the memory of Lydia's words rang in his mind's ear. Beck needs to be the one to make the next move.
Sullen, he closed the door. Beetlejuice walked back to the nook by the attic window and sat down on its sun-faded cushion. If he craned his neck just right, he could see the driveway below. He watched her load the taxi with suitcases even though the sun’s reflection off her hot pink puffy jacket made him squint a little.
Before she entered the cab, Beck turned over her shoulder to look at the house one more time. Their eyes locked when she looked to the attic. Beetlejuice pressed his hand against the window. She gave him a small wave back before getting into the car.
He watched her ride drive away until it disappeared over the horizon.
“She’ll be back,” he assured himself out loud.
Curious to see how the house had changed (eager to go through Beck’s things...), Beetlejuice descended to the second floor. All was quiet aside from Lydia’s room. Slow jazz music lilted out of the crack in her doorway along with a soft beam of light.
Desperate to sneak past her unnoticed, he tiptoed gingerly over to Beck’s room and passed through the door like a ghost.
On the other side of the threshold, he paused a second before shucking off his shoes. Everything seemed the same aside from a few missing artifacts— her laptop, her sketchbooks, her art portfolio folder. A chuckle escaped from his lips when he noticed a familiar black and white striped scarf on her dresser. His hand grazed against the knit material before sliding down to grasp the drawer just below it.
He yanked it open and grabbed a handful of the disorganized panties inside. While shoving half the wad into his jacket’s inner pocket, Beetlejuice noticed he’d uncovered something. His eyes bulged.
In the middle of her underwear, unmistakably, was a dildo at least seven inches long. Just seeing it made Beetlejuice's lust more rabid, but he managed to close the drawer without messing with it. He’d spend the better part of the time she was away, he decided, thinking of the things he’d do to her with it.
With some of the panties still clenched in one hand, he dove onto her bed. The plush feeling of the down feather comforter had been sorely missed. The sun illuminated the room's white walls beautifully. The pillows were thick with her scent which turned his arousal into euphoria. Beetlejuice paused to take it all in before fumbling with his pants.
He sure missed watching her wake up next to him on days like this.
One hand pressed the panties and pillows against his nose and while the other got to work.
He didn’t hear the doorknob jiggle open. Thank goodness the pillow obscured most of him.
Lydia still screamed in surprise, though.
“What the fucking hell, Beetlejuice?!” she yelled from the other side of the now closed door.
He fell off the bed in his scramble to make himself decent. His head bent at an awkward angle from hitting Beck's side table.
“C’mon! Can you really blame me?!”
“Yes I can! Put everything away!”
“What am I supposed to do until she comes back?” he whined.
“I said put it away!!”
Begrudgingly, he adjusted himself, shoved the panties back in the drawer (save the ones in his jacket) and haphazardly threw the pillows back on the bed.
“You’re an animal,” Lydia said when he opened the door.
“I’ve been called far worse by far better,” Beetlejuice scoffed while popping his head back into place.
Lydia playfully punched his arm before motioning for him to follow her. When they got to her room, she sat down at her desk. Beetlejuice sat on her nearby bed. On her desk, he noticed a paper towel was laid out along with rubbing alcohol, neosporin, black ink and what looked like a needle taped to the back of a pencil. He didn't think much of it at first.
"Everyone else seems to be gone for the holiday, Lyds. Why are you still around?"
"To make sure Beck still has underwear in that drawer when she gets back."
"Is that it?"
"No," she drawled while placing her left forearm face up on the table. "I've told you how exhausting my half-brother can be. I love Ezra, don't get me wrong, but toddlers are a handful. I thought I'd give dad and Delia another night to get the house back in order. It doesn't matter to me, but she gets really embarrassed if things are messy."
Lydia dipped the needle in ink and positioned it over her arm.
“Hey! Don’t do that! You’ll hurt yourself!” Beetlejuice said, shoeing away the hand holding the tool.
“Relax. It’s called a stick and poke tattoo. Do you want one?”
“I usually keep my body mods au naturel, babes.”
“Sounds like something a pussy would say.”
“I’ll show you who’s a pussy!” he said while rolling up his sleeve.
“Okay,” she giggled. “Just let me touch up mine first. Besides, it’s a little too late to tell me I shouldn’t.”
When Beetlejuice looked at her upturned arm again, he noticed there was already a tattoo there. It was about the size of a half dollar coin and near her elbow. The dots already on her skin were arranged to look like a magnolia flower. Despite how faded it looked, he was transfixed by the skillful way the simple dots were arranged to mimic light and shadow.
Lydia didn’t wince as she pricked the ink-soaked needle against her skin.
“It’s not my best work, but it’s still one of my favorites,” she mumbled. “I don’t think everyone can say that about the tattoo they gave themself at 17.”
“Chuck must’ve lost his shit when he saw it.”
“Only for a little while. This kind of flower was mom’s favorite.”
Beetlejuice relaxed his posture a bit, transfixed by the way she worked. He liked watching the greying dots become vibrant black. Lydia tapped her foot to the beat of the slow, smooth music still playing from the turntable in the corner of the room.
It was nice that they could still have moments like these.
“Have you thought about what tattoo you want me to give you?”
“A crown.”
“Why?”
“It’s kind of a long story, but you know that movie about the labyrinths by Jimi Hendrix?”
Lydia froze. She calmly set down her tool and turned to look him dead in the eye.
“First of all, it’s Jim Henson. Second, I’m not letting you get a tattoo for Beck.”
“Why not?! I’m a grownup! I can make my own choices. I’m older than you!” he said indignantly.
Lydia rolled her eyes and pulled on the neckline of her shirt to reveal her shoulder.
“See that? A tiny green shamrock with the letter ‘L’ on the side. ‘L’ for Lydia, you may ask? Nope! ‘L’ for Laurel McCann,” she deadpanned. “Beej, I’m not even Irish and I have a shamrock tattoo. Moral of the story is don’t fall in love with the first person you sleep with in college.”
Heeding her advice, he thought about the question again. Beetlejuice propped his head up on one hand and tapped his chin thoughtfully. His eyes lit up.
“Oh! Okay. I got it. What about this: ‘my mom’s a bitch.’”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I want it on my forehead!”
“Absolutely not. Not your face or butt or anywhere else sensitive like that. I’ve seen enough of you today.”
Beetlejuice groaned dramatically and flopped back onto her bed. He laid there, trying his best to think of something else. It felt like an impossible task, though. All he could think about was Beck and also how Lydia’s comforter wasn’t as comfy as hers. After a some time had passed, Lydia lightly kicked his leg.
“Okay, I’m done. Beej, I have an idea for you. What about—”
“Nah, don’t tell me. I love surprises. Just stick it in me.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
He laughed and laid his right forearm out on the desk just like she had earlier.
“It’s going to sting a little bit,” she said while rubbing his wrist with an alcohol pad. “Do you want to try a little dot first before committing to the whole thing?”
“Nah, babes. I’m dead! Nothing hurts wh— Fucking hell!!”
She tried not to smirk at his reaction to the first pinprick.
“Are you really sure you want to go through with this?” Lydia asked.
Beetlejuice just grunted in affirmation.
She started to work on the middle of his wrist. For a demon, he had a surprisingly low pain threshold. Beetlejuice got used to the stabbing sensation, but the longer she worked, the more it felt like torture. Lydia let him take small breaks and told him he had to be careful about clenching his hand while she worked. He wanted to whine, but managed to power through.
“Done! You can look now,” Lydia said after what felt like a lifetime.
Beetlejuice smiled at the new artwork on his wrist. She had used negative space to make it look like the pale eyes of a black and white striped beetle were looking back up at him.
“Now we match!” Lydia said while showing off her own wrist. “I designed it myself.”
She’d clearly visited a studio to get her own done. However, for a freehanded stick and poke tattoo, his wasn’t half bad either.
“You did good, kid! Chuck and Diana didn’t send you to art school for nothing. But tell me, can yours do this?”
Lydia nearly fell out of her chair as the bug on Beetlejuice’s arm came to life. It scuttled around his wrist and ran part way up his arm before returning to its original place.
“Cool trick,” she said breathlessly.
He studied her face for a moment before asking his next question.
“Why did you want to get something like this in the first place? To immortalize your trauma?”
“No,” she said thoughtfully. “I got it to remind me that family will always be there for you when you need them most. It reminds me that, even though what we went through was hard, it made us stronger. We lived.”
Lydia clasped Beetlejuice’s shoulder and smiled at him.
“Maybe it’ll help you remember that, too.”
Beetlejuice smiled back, reaching up to squeeze her hand with his own. His smile drooped slightly as he considered what he was going to ask her next.
“Hey, Lydia?”
“Yeah?”
“I think it’s time I proved to everyone that I’ve changed,” Beetlejuice sighed. “Do you think you could help me figure out… how to do that?”
“Hell yeah, Beej.”
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☀️
I like how this is literally indecipherable on desktop, so I had to go onto my phone (where it was still indecipherable) and then open it in safari to figure out which one this was.
☀ What’s your rp pet peeve?
It’s this one and not the other one right above it that also looks like a sun.
Emoticons, man.
Well, that was fun and all but- rp pet peeves. Stuff under the cut. Pour one out for the entire community, because I’m about to take a pound of flesh from everyone.
There’s a lot of stuff in here that boils down to just being a good writing partner and all that, trying to advance the action in a natural way, and so on… and I think a lot of it can boil down to either a lack of awareness or a lack of experience. People get better at writing by writing, so I find it hard to really be frustrated and stay frustrated by someone who falls into some of these pitfalls. So you’ll notice I don’t really target things that have to do with writing skill as much as I target ‘attitude’ and ‘conscientiousness’. There is a lot that bothers me though, so here’s a short list.
Criticizing the way other people have fun. This is a big one. What this boils down to is conversations about how “this ship isn’t realistic” or “your ideals on writing are dumb” or “you take writing too seriously/not seriously enough.” I’ve seen all of these. And I used to know someone on a forum-based RP site that would actively go out of her way to criticize that people would include a lot of introspection in scenes that were fast paced. For instance, using poetic language, or talking about how they’re feeling, what the situation was, “he felt like he was up against the tide, that his heart was being torn in two, a cut made deeper with every clash of their blades” - stuff like that. She hated it. And she made sure everyone knew that she did not approve of how much they were writing, because it was ‘not realistic’. And yes, there is definite merit to the claim that people do not have time to introspect about their entire lives and their relationship to their allies and enemies between sword swings... But so what. I don’t think it’s wrong to advocate for shorter, simpler posts with less descriptive text, and to manage in 200 words instead of 600. That’s great. Simplicity has value, being concise is great, ‘brevity is the soul of wit’, whatever. But the problem, the problem was that she would criticize others for writing in a way that they enjoyed. No one got on her case for writing less, but she was so grating on this point that eventually people just did not want to be around her.
It was something I’ve experienced even here. Finding the balance between “writing to improve your ability to write” and “writing just to have fun” are two separate matters. People forget that individuals exist from both camps, and I have known people (multiple) who say ‘this is important to me, I’m growing my skills using RP as a medium’ but fail to empathize and recognize that not everyone has the same viewpoint. Caring about things that make you feel something over technically good and well executed writing does not make you a problem.
And as a big follow up, I find that this is a big issue in life in general. I think that people often forget how much time it took them to learn a certain thing, recognize their own investment, or recognize the disparity between their own idea of ‘common knowledge’ vs actually common knowledge. When I joined the community, I did not know what private, selective, independent, mun, muse, or mutuals meant. For someone who’s brand new, these are terms that can be hard to decipher. And it’s the similar with ships - I think that people forget that not everyone who comes to RP is from a writing background. Some of them may just have enjoyed reading fanfiction, or may have enjoyed their favorite bot lane duo, or they have a main and their partner has a main and they like the aesthetic. So long as it’s not inherently problematic (incest, pedophilia), it’s cruel to degrade someone and call everything that doesn’t make perfect sense a ‘crackship’. Fanart also has a big role to play in this. Do I personally like Sona with Ka/yn, Yas, Sy/las, Jh/in, or Dra/ven? No, I don’t. I don’t, but equally, it’s not right for me to get in someone’s face for liking it. If you love MF/Sona because it’s a fuckin’ sick classic wombo combo bot lane... that’s cool, more power to you. I wish people would ease up and remember to just let people have their fun. There’s a Jh/in that follows me, who politely asked if I shipped it and I said no, and then there was no hard feelings at all. And that is ideal for me. Really.
T h e f t.
And being ultra conscious of it. I am in a very unfortunate circumstance that many of my Sona hcs are very similar to another blog in the space. I found that out by accident, and we reached similar (but also different!) conclusions. But now I am terribly terrified of ever speaking to them, because gods above I want to lift all my duplicates into the air, kiss them, and scream about them... but I don’t want anyone to feel anxious that I’m copying them. It’s also why until about a week ago, I only followed one other Sona blog ever - written by one of my very, very close friends. I never want people to feel like I’m stealing from them, but I also want my duplicates to feel comfortable on my blog! I want them to feel okay about reblogging art of their characters if they like it or talking to me about things... And I’ve put in a lot of effort to be very divergent with my portrayals, but I still ended up in this situation. I won’t name names ( and I really hope that no one bothers that other Sona, because she’s a genuine sweetheart and deserves love and appreciation ), b ut... This is a big issue for me.
And it’s exacerbated by the fact that some people are lazy as fuck and actually just straight up steal ideas. It’s not ‘inspired by’, which I usually take care to do, giving proper credits or speaking about where I got information from or from whom or that it is on some level almost collaborative (because this is a collaborative space where we interact with each other, but that’s another topic). But I mean some people just recklessly steal and because we all have anxiety (TM), the line between coincidence, inspiration, and theft blurs. Understand that on some level, plagarism is an ethical dilemma, and I exist in the camp that says “hey man that’s cool come talk to me” - but I can exist in that camp because I insist on a very divergent interpretation that is almost ‘theft-proof’. I do not think any other Sona blog will ever have this combination of headcanons: “is a construct inspired by a house spirit, made up of one part crashed titan goddess, three parts demons, and each demon is represented by one of the strings of the instrument, which by the way shattered because bad reasons”. But if you’re not me, it’s hard to... stay loose about it.
And it’s hard to not get jealous.
BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE. Alright I wrote down a list when I actually got this ask, so let’s run off that. ( Yuki, you fuck, you’re not done? Fuck no I’m not done. ) These next ones are big for me.
MISREPRESENTING YOUR WANTS / YOURSELF
what does that mean, you ask me. It means this. It means pretending to be interested in ideas or interactions, even if you’re not interested. I do not ever want to be in the situation where I am happily chugging along, talking about a dynamic, and then find out that the other person isn’t as interested.
It’s fine to be mellow about it dude. I would rather know that you’re like... just okay on it all. I don’t want you to be polite and ‘spare my feelings’ and force yourself.
I want you to have fun. Have fun. God just have fun, you know? Please. There are a ton of interactions I’m “just okay” with, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I can be just okay with stuff and it’s fine. Not everything needs to click instantly but like...
Only showing interest to appeal to me or spare my feelings kinda sucks. It doesn’t last forever. It feels really bad. And eventually when things fall apart, it feels even worse. Like oh you really just did not care that much. Or you didn’t enjoy writing with me? Or what is it? See: jealousy/anxiety. Just be honest.
I think you especially have seen this with me, but I have a penchant for just being sincere and honest about how I feel about things. At least a little bit.
Don’t share things people tell you in confidence.
Fucking duh but it needs to be stated. Sometimes people gotta vent. It happens. And I get that ‘talking behind someone’s back’ is not great, but expressing frustration is a real thing that has real value. And then finding out that those things were shared. If I didn’t bring it up with them myself, I didn’t want them to know. Duh. I’m not talking to be catty but because I’m upset. S h i t. Some of the drama that I’ve seen happen from others doing this (and not to me, but in various cases) was entirely unavoidable. I’ve seen so many variants of this. It’s dumb dude. It’s dumb.
Hard vs Soft statements (Stating opinions as facts)
This is another one that gets me. I come from a world where we write, ‘Sona tries to’ and so on to others. Tumblr as a whole doesn’t seem to conceptually engage with the idea of ‘interrupting actions’ and accepting that interactions are a little malleable. And it in turn reflects how others speak about characters.
I never see, “I think Sona is”, I see “Sona is.” This is such a minor little thing, and I’ve come to accept that it’s part of the culture, but it can be terribly frustrating when others speak about your characters. I often say things like “I see Sona as” or “Because of xyz, Ori/anna would probably-” etc. But that isn’t something that I see here from some people. I know that I do this a lot less these days, in part because I have acclimated to the culture.
Incidentally, there are some joke versions of this that are also frustrating. People can really think they’re being funny, but end up just shutting you out of the conversation entirely when they say ‘No’. I might be a little too sensitive to this though, in that I often disengage from conversations because “it’s not really about my interpretation, so it’s better if I not say anything because it’s not relevant and doesn’t contribute.”
Really, I’m just a weenie baby, but I know when someone’s being rude vs when it’s just my own anxieties. I don’t expect everyone to have unshakable confidence, I also don’t expect that everyone be quivering in their boots. Some people can be really, really dismissive and it’s kind of not so great because it comes along with them otherwise being pretty neat.
Last one: Misrepresentation of data / using a ‘preponderance of evidence’ when there really isn’t that much.
How do I even put this.
CONJECTURE IS NOT FACT.
CONJECTURE IS NOT FACT.
CONJECTURE IS NOT FACT.
Phew. Okay that’s done. That right there is a big problem (and in combination with the pet peeve before that, it gets worse.)
Something to understand is that sometimes there is no good reason to pipe up to correct someone. Often, people are having a visceral, gut reaction and it’s very emotional. Criticizing that ignores the intent (that they’re frustrated), so it’s often a good idea to let it be.
But that doesn’t stop me from seeing that facts are poorly stated or misrepresented. The community likes to talk about league so I see it in OOC posts, and I also see claims that are just wrong. They’re misstated, exaggerated, or phrased in such a way that you could accept them - except one fact check will prove otherwise. But again, why get in someone’s face when they’re frustrated?
But this leads to some people feeling ‘complicit acceptance’. Which is in itself another problem that I won’t get into.
I as a person tend to be pretty rigorous. If I see facts and I can check them with a quick google search, I often do - especially League. It’s so easy to check a champion’s win rate or popularity. Other people do not always exercise this rigor.
“Alright fuckface but that’s talking about league and not rp.”
Yeah okay you make a fair and valid point, except for the part where you missed bullet points 2-4. I’m more talking about the general attitude people have but let’s talk specifically more about RP.
There’s content. A lot of content. And most of it is really vague, because that’s how R I O T G A M E S does things. We still can’t get a straight answer on whether Sona’s adopted mom, Lestara, is alive or not. H u h?
And this often leads to us making connections and conclusions based on the limited data we have. We’re extrapolating, taking what we know and trying to figure out something new.
Except when we get a new data set, sometimes our extrapolations don’t work anymore.
Except we just spent three months world building around our guesses ( because that’s what they are)
Oops I’m divergent now.
That happens. A lot. My entire blog was evidence of that, where I made extreme guesses and then accidentally got validated as Demacia went full grimdark. But it even happened last year, when suddenly we gained new information! Mage registration! That’s a thing! And it changes how we perceive things.
And you may be thinking, ‘ok fine but what does that have to do with misrepresentation’ and it has this to do with it. People will make conclusions based on their own view, then solidify these conclusions as ‘fact’.
For example, I wrote a small article on how “magical sight was not a reasonable power to have” and then soon after, Mageseekers appeared. Oops. Oops.
And these extrapolations get treated as though they are really fact. The line between what is ‘real’ and what is ‘assumed’ blurs. The truth is this. Unless it’s directly and unambiguously stated, it’s basically not fact. “But we can conclude-” I know. And then we’ll get new information and that’ll change. Ideas in this fandom are like balloons, you need to tie them down with text evidence or they’ll just float away before you even know it. I can talk about how Sona is a literal genius level intellect all day, and tomorrow I can be proven wrong by one little shift or clarification in the lore. ‘Within months’ - okay how many months? Fifteen months? Three months? Unknown.
And this leads me to preponderance of ‘evidence’. This one is long because it bothers me a bunch.
‘Preponderance of evidence’ (quotes required) is basically the situation in which someone goes and tells me:
“Listen buddy, I have these seven pieces of evidence, so I can reasonably conclude that [x] is true.” And that’s solid conjecture and extrapolation and I accept that.
Except that maybe you seven pieces of evidence aren’t all solid pieces of evidence.
Oh.
Oh no.
And that’s happened. I have seen evidence pieces one, two, four, and six all be good. And pieces three, five, and seven are a stretch at best.
But because they have so many pieces of evidence, it’s hard to critique back. Because they still do have four good pieces of evidence!
But the strength of the conclusion increases with more accurate and valid data points, and if your data points aren’t-
And that’s the rub, basically. Sometimes I see people fit evidence to their conclusion without even realizing it. Some of the most intelligent, rigorous, and well-versed writers on this site I’ve seen do it.
And it sucks.
And it’s a peeve because here’s the truth.
The truth after all this talk is this very important fact.
I don’t say anything about these things to people because I don’t want to ruin anyone’s fun or engagement.
People make mistakes and say many things because they are passionate about what they’re talking about. Often that’s the case. And harmless conjecture misunderstandings are not the end of the world because this is not academia.
except that one time I wrote a writeup on how Aphe/lios isn’t mute but whatever.
And so while I have said all these things and have a lot of these feelings, I also think there’s no point to saying most of them directly to the person that bugs me. What good will it do? To someone who is reacting with their emotions and just wants to get their frustration out, or is speaking passionately about something... Just let it go.
And so often I let it go, even if I disagree. I have an opinion, but I don’t go out and toss it back in your face. I just get mad quietly and grump about it.
And that’s why I end up being a very ‘stay in my lane’ person.
The end.
If you read all the way through this, I’ll give you a cookie tbh. Many cookies. This is almost 3000 words and 7 pages.
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Chapter 11 is up!
I’m spending my quaran-time wisely by writing about a dead teenager hunting for her killer.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/11674818/chapters/56827993
I’m also working on art, some shorts about characters we’ve yet to see and a backlog of chapters for if/when I lose momentum again. Planning ahead is important, kids.
Continue reading under the cut-
It had been a fair few hours since Marie's strange episode, and she was up and about once more. Up, about, and ready to follow her first lead. "Seriously, do you think I would hide something like being the witness to a god damn murder from everyone? I'm literally designed so that I can't do that." Mangle was sat sorting through a small box of mini LEDs. She was there, she was the one who screamed and was dragged off, it was impossible for it not to have been her. "That's my point exactly! Unless it was some insane near-death vision - which it definitely was not - then you were there. Yet somehow, you don't remember a thing. That can't have been an accident!" Marie grabbed her friend's shoulders tight, startling her. The tiny bulbs scattered at her feet, some finding there way through a gap in the floor panels of her den and dropping to the floor below.
"Ifreann... what do you mean? You think someone wiped my brain? This isn't a movie Marie, and even if that was what happened, the only person who could have done that was..." She trailed off as she thought. The whole thing made more sense than she wanted to admit. If anyone had seen a crime, the criminal would want to remove the threat of them talking. So it was entirely possible that she had seen her friend's murder. By that logic, any one of the animatronics could have been a witness to or even assisted with one of the murders. But they couldn't. "Fixing our mechanisms is tricky, but doable. Rewiring a whole bunch of stuff in our brains, so to speak, is nigh on impossible. At the time of you getting shanked-"
"Tactful as always."
"I was the only person capable of doing anything remotely close to that. There was only one man who could have done it to such a degree of 'not-fucking-everything-else-up-as-well', and he was definitely dead by then." She finished, muttering further as she began the grueling task of tidying the bits on her floor. Marie paused. She was right, of course. Everybody knew the fate of William Afton, he had killed himself shortly after the Bite had occurred. Unless...
"What if he wasn't dead. What if he isn't."
"What?"
"William, the guy who built you. You said that he was the only one capable of fiddling with your head with that level of precision. To wipe all traces of an event without leaving a weird gap in your memory that would make you suspicious. What if he never offed himself, but just made you forget who he was... describe him for me." Marie had a hunch.
"What, William? Well, he was... he was... I... I don't remember anything about him." She stopped picking at the floor. "But, he was always elusive, right? Not many people saw him and we only did during the early days. We never saw him after we were installed at the restaurant. At least... I don't think we did."
It suddenly made sense. Or at the very least, more sense than it had before today. If her theory was correct, then it would explain why, despite being walking security cameras, nobody had seen anyone suspicious. They were programmed to find everything about this guy completely normal, no matter how much creepy lurking and luring he may be doing. But while she had a plausible suspect, there was no motive. "I'm going to think on this a while. You, uh, have fun with your blinky lights." She said, handing her the closest one before floating out the door and away.
Dawn had been listening in as best she could. "Marie, not to butt in..." She emerged from the shadows beneath Mangle's den, squeezing awkwardly past various shelves. "I just wanted you to know... if I can help at all... like with all of this..." Marie smiled, trying to seem as unfazed as possible. "I know. I'm fine D, really." She continued towards the door. Dawn frowned. She didn't really understand any of this, and that bothered her. Normally if Marie had a problem she would tell her. She felt useless. "Actually..." She stopped. "Mind if I ask you something? Just wondering-"
"Yes?"
"Before you started here... There was a time between you and Afton right? When there was just, nobody doing repairs?" She asked.
"No, I mean, yes there was nobody here. I think mostly it was just Mangle doing what she could." Dawn replied. "It's weird though, even with a robot brain, it would have taken a long time to figure out everything she has. So, before she knew what she knows... lucky there weren't any major problems, right?" She laughed nervously.
"Huh."
Mike and Amy were still sifting through what information they could find on the Bite of '87. "Remember how this was just supposed to be a nice walk around to work off lunch?" Amy teased. She was enjoying their conspiracy hunt to a degree, but they'd reached an impasse a few articles back. There was the motive for murder but nothing could prove that the man was alive, let alone anywhere near the establishment at the time of the first murders. "I know." Mike was uninterested. If he wasn't here he'd be obligated to be at 'home' with his 'family'. No thanks, there had to be some way to prove him either right or wrong, either would be preferable to listening to his extended family argue about political bullcrap. And then the Puppet hovered in.
"Hey, how you feeling? I overheard something had happened. Blow a fuse?" Amy asked sympathetically. Chica came by to explain that something strange had occurred on her way to see exactly what that meant, but they were too absorbed to follow. "Yeah... something like that." Marie peered over at the screen. "So what kinda smut are you looking at?" She asked, half-joking.
"News stuff."
"So no tits? Disappointing." She sighed. Amy raised an eyebrow. "I'm kidding. Mostly. What kinda news?"
"We have this theory, about our killer, but it's nothing to worry over." Mike turned the monitor to show her the current article. "I mean, it involves a locally famous suicide being faked and a cyber-child, so probably in the realm of the crazy and slash or impossible." He scrolled absentmindedly onward. Marie immediately tensed up.
"Mike... Is this the case of one William Afton? Because boy-howdy do I have some interesting insight into that mess." She made an uneasy grin. Mike nodded, almost amazed. He got up from his chair and let the Puppet sit down, uncaring as to whether it would make a difference. He perched by Amy on the desk, who seemed just as stunned. "We... have the motive to believe he's the one doing this, but there's no way we could prove he's still around. If we could then maybe, but right now we've hit a wall." He explained. Marie nodded slowly.
"Funny, I have the opposite problem. I can prove he was around I think, but not why." She said. "But you might not believe the 'source' exactly."
Mangle hadn't remained in her den for long. The more she tried to think of her creator, the less she seemed to actually remember, and this was bothering her. So she decided to ask around. Crawling through the vents, she tried to think of her earliest thoughts, before she had arrived at the pizzeria. Vague memories floated around. A voice, she could remember a voice, but was it his? It was polite, asking her things, always amazed by her answers. That had to be him.
"Toy Foxy? I wanted to ask you something." He said. "You're voice is different. It used to be the one I gave you, do you remember?" He imitated a voice she barely thought her own. "But now it's something different. Why is that? Do you know what it is?" She remembers feeling pestered, but she always answered. She had to, being considerate and helpful, but she didn't feel like it at times.
"It's... Irish, isn't it? I just prefer the way it sounds. It feels like... the other voice is good, but it's yours. I want this one, it sounds like me. Why? Are you offended I didn't like what you gave me? Because I'm not changing it now." She laughed. She was much happier then, if a little annoyed by the barrage of questions.
She crawled out of the vent and down into the main hall. Below, Toy Chica was sat on her phone. Everyone had seemingly scuttled away, presumably coming to terms with today's revelation, but Toychi seemed to be entirely over it. "I've seen weirder things on the internet, in case you were wondering why I haven't curled up in a corner. I can see your reflection, y'know." She said, not looking up. Mangle extended her neck as far as possible to continue the conversation. She always misjudged how high the ceiling in here was. "Hey so, how much do you remember about William?" She asked. Toychi shrugged and continued to look at her various social media feeds.
"Come on, I need to know because of reasons." She swung her face so her hair covered Toychi's vision. "Important reasons." She affirmed. Toy chica sighed and did as she was asked. "I remember he was from England. And like, he was married I think." She said, trying to push Mangle's head away. "But nothing personal? Nothing the just us, his life's work, would remember? Or even what he looked like?"
"Of course I remember... huh. That's... totally not ok. I have an amazing memory, how the hell can't I remember that guy?" She immediately began searching her phone. "I remember he gave me this, maybe I took pictures," she switched to the internet, "Google knows everything, maybe they have a picture!" She was becoming increasingly distressed. "Mangle! What the fuck does this guy look like?!" She cried.
At this point, Toy Freddy had emerged from backstage. "What the heck are you yelling about now? Is anyone else secretly a ghost?" He wasn't feeling up to any more ghost shenanigans. However, this didn't seem like something he could ignore, given the frantic pace at which Toy Chica had begun waving him over. "What colour hair did William Afton have?!" She asked, still aggressively applying as many advanced search keywords as possible. "What? How the heck would I know?" He responded. She barely acknowledged this, still scouring her device. Mangle clambered not-so-gracefully down from the ceiling. "Was he fat, or thin? What colour were his eyes? Did he have freckles? We should know, man, but we don't! Why?!" Toychi dropped her phone into her lap with a small thud before burying her face in her arms on the table.
"I mean, yeah, that is a little unusual. Maybe it's a glitch? Or maybe we just don't remember? Ten years is a long time." He sat beside her. It was strange but surely there were more important things happening than trying to remember one man. "A glitch for all of us? And I have over a thousand people's names, faces, birthdays, favourite flavours of ice-cream... We can't forget things, not really, not unless we delete things ourselves." Came a slightly muffled reply.
"Ok, but why does he even matter. He made us then dropped off the face of the earth, big deal." He said. He was actually quite interested in helping find out just how exactly someone had removed all traces of themselves from their minds, as William no doubt had done, and why, but Toychi was in hysterics and he wasn't prepared to encourage her.
All the while, Mike continued to compile his resources. Marie decided it'd be best to let him handle things. She felt a little bad since as it was, everyone else was cleaning up this mess that she was at the center of, yet she was just idly floating around and keeping as far from it all as she could. Aside from the notes she'd been compiling, it was all down to the others. But she was far too tired to deal with anything more. She ducked into the arcade and flopped haphazardly into her box once more. She stared into the darkness, admiring herself. She had done fairly well, all things considering.
"Why me though?" She asked aloud. It was an interesting question. From Mike's debrief, she knew who had killed her. At least, she thought she knew, because she was an outlier. The other victims were all connected. All were friends of Michael's older brother, William's nephew he'd taken in according to what little she remembered about her brother's friend's family. Then there was Alex, who could possibly have been a part of the group that hurt Michael. He wasn't, but William couldn't have known.
So why? She remembered the basement, the safe room. But that made no sense either. She was smarter than that, she watched horror movies all the time. How in the world could a total stranger have lured her into the basement of the Pizzaria?
Then she saw it.
It was a gift box, very like the one she now resided in. Aside from its sudden appearance, it could have been mistaken for a completely ordinary wrapped box. Something a child could have left for her or forgotten before closing the other day. It was Christmas after all. "Alright then." She said. Maybe she'd overlooked it, she wasn't exactly thinking straight. "Happy Hannukkah, me." She picked up the box. It wasn't small at all, yet it barely weighed anything. There was a small tag hanging from the bow. She squinted to read what it said, "You are not alone. If you awaken them, they will help you find him. They will help you hunt him. They will grant revenge... Ok, this is some weird shit." She dropped the box on the floor.
"Revenge is for losers anyway." She laughed through her nose, amused by the idea that she'd want revenge. Really, she just wanted this guy found and dealt with for the sake of others, for Alex. She eyed the box with suspicion. "What does it mean, 'they'. Other kids? The ones from before?" That made sense. It didn't make any sense at all because this was all insane, but then again she was a ghost so she was already pushing her own beliefs. "Maybe..." Against her better judgment, she picked the box up again.
"Maybe I should let them out. Or bring them back with this thing, whatever it's for. I mean, if these are the other kids... what harm could they do, right? If they're vengeful I can stop them, I'm more powerful. I think." She wondered exactly how powerful she was. Enough to put a stop to some stupid toddler tantrums. She grasped the ribbons on the lid of the box. She tried once more to recall what happened the night of her death, secretly hoping that she wouldn't need this supernatural pandora's box to fix this if it even could.
It was the eve of Halloween, the eve of her birthday. "God, and then he just gets up as if nothing had happened." She was hanging around the alley beside the pizzeria, "Hey, mind letting me in on those?" She referred to the box of cigarettes in Vincent's hand. "These things kill you know." He said but still offered her one. He hadn't been ok since the Bite had happened. It was weird the place was open so quickly after such a massive accident, but it was probably something to do with corporate greed or whatever. She was more concerned about her friend.
"Look, you need to take time off. I couldn't give any less of a shit what your boss says, this place should be shut for the rest of the year and you need help." She brought a cigarette to her lips and lit it. A terrible habit for a kid, she knew, but she was running out of legal ways to stave off stress. She sighed a long trail of smoke as he shrugged at her. "Don't shrug, you know I'm right." She said, resting her hand on his shoulder. He brushed it away dejectedly and continued to stare at the floor.
"No offense Marie... but you don't know jack shit about what's going on right now. You don't know anything and you never will. You can't." He glared at her. Something was definitely off. His voice kept faltering, changing almost. Like his whole person was just an act. It scared her. But she thought she understood. "Just focus on keeping yourself safe, ok?" He tried to smile at her. She was a child, of course, there was no way she'd understand how this worked. Vincent sounded almost like her father, in a terrible sort of way, but it was fine. They'd both suffered, he was trying to push her away for both of them. She understood that.
Her face that night was a mess of make-up and grime. She'd looked for hours but he was gone. Her throat burned from trying to make her voice heard over the crowds of kids rushing to and fro. Nothing mattered anymore. Her parents, of course, blamed her. And for once, they were right, everything was her fault. But even now, as her mother wailed into her father's lap, as her father retold what they knew to his fellow police officers, she was going to fix this. She slid her window open and climbed outside. She clutched the only thing that seemed to bring any comfort, a doll of the Puppet, a gift from Vincent for her birthday last year. She hurried to the bus-stop. There was only one bus this late, she'd be walking home, but it didn't matter. She hopped on and dropped a large handful of change through the tiny gap.
Getting in was easy. Vincent taught her a trick with the back door into parts and services. "Alex?" She cried softly into the darkness. She wished she had a torch, this place was much creepier in the dark. She stumbled through the small warehouse. "Alex?" She was trying to be as loud as possible and as quiet as possible, she knew there'd be a guard on duty and the police could get here soon. She felt a little less concerned about the guard, she'd met Scott once and he seemed like a nice enough person, but he'd also likely call her parents.
"Alex?" Her voice echoed through the corridors. Eventually, she found herself in the arcade. She pushed her back against the wall and slid to the floor. This was it. Alex was gone forever. "Marie? Oh my god Marie what are you doing here?" Vincent's voice. He flashed a light through the door and approached her spot. "You! Where were you! He's gone, he's gone, it's your job to stop this stuff!" She kicked at his shins. "I'm sorry..." She began to sob again. Vincent knelt by her and offered his hand. "It's ok, we'll find him. Follow me." He said. She sniffed and cleaned her face as best she could.
They slowly made their way through the halls, checking every inch for any sign of Alex. "What are you even doing here, I thought Scott worked nights?" She asked, checking under each table for any scrap of evidence. Vincent handed her the torch. "Switched shifts. Work keeping me focused, you know?"
"Like, focused on anything special, or focused on not..."
"I said you know, didn't I? Got to keep going." He looked around. "I'm going to head back to the office, maybe some security footage will help. Think you can check the other rooms yourself?" He tossed her the keys and headed off before she even replied.
It'd been some time. What was he doing? She began heading towards the office. A door. Staff only. Maybe...
Stairs. Cold. Pain.
"No."
Marie stared at the box. William was a sure fit for everything, but he'd need access to the security footage to delete any evidence, and he had no idea who Marie was. She'd stumbled on Alex's body, sure, but how would he have known she was there if he was just popping in to murder a child then leaving again. He'd have to have been in the building, in the office to watch where she went.
"No."
He'd have to be working in the pizzeria, with an alias as a cover.
"No."
He would have to have been someone that she trusted, and who trusted her as much.
"No. No that's ridiculous."
Michael used to call Vincent 'dad'. How did he know how to help Mangle and Dawn? Scott always seemed like Vince was his superior when he wasn't. He could always somehow buy her all sorts of nice things on pittance pay. Henry's kids own the place, yet they let Vincent get away with things anyone else could be fired on the spot for. He could mimic voices so well, was it such a stretch to say is 'real' voice was a fake too? Things she'd never questioned before suddenly seemed to pile up. He first talked about doing everything themselves, keeping the police and the victim's families as far away as possible. But he would never hurt her, he cared about her, he was her best friend.
Then, without her meaning to, the bottom of the box tumbled to the floor, the top still stuck in Marie's grip. The arcade machines flashed violently as a group of masks resembling the cast's old animal heads appeared, much like her own. They fizzled into small balls of light, then vanished. A message appeared on one of the cabinet screens. 'Give gift', it read. 'Give life', it read. Marie let the lid join the rest of the box on the floor. The screens went black again and left her in the dark.
"Oh no."
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UNCANNY X-MEN #145-147
MAY - JULY 1981
BY CHRIS CLAREMONT, DAVE COCKRUM, JOE RUBINSTEIN AND GLYNIS WEIN
SYNOPSIS (FROM MARVEL DATABASE)
Stevie Hunter and Ororo went to see Britain's Royal Ballet. While watching the ballet, Miss Locke entered their box and touched them with a fatal contact poison, a poison she had the antidote to. The poison was merely to buy their undivided attention as Miss Locke related how and why Doom captured Arcade, that she would like the X-Men to rescue Arcade, and that many of the X-Men's family and friends had been captured to ensure that they would. Ororo fell unconscious, and when she awoke Stevie and Miss Locke were gone. She checked on Amanda Sefton and the Greys, but they were all missing. She returned to the mansion.
The X-Men contacted Beast to get information about Dr. Doom from the Avengers. Wolverine argued that they couldn't submit to blackmail, they had to nail Murderworld so hard no one would attack their loved ones and friends again. Ororo agreed, and had a plan. Professor X telepathically contacted former X-Men Havok, Polaris, Iceman, and Banshee to provide extra manpower for the two-pronged assault. Team 1 (Storm, Angel, Colossus, Wolverine, Nightcrawler) would rescue Arcade from Dr. Doom, buying time for Havok, Polaris, Iceman, and Banshee to rescue their friends from Murderworld.
Professor X was unable to contact Cyclops. That may have been because he was just waking up on an unknown Caribbean beach where he and Lee Forrester may have been the only inhabitants. Lee had been tossed overboard by a freak storm, and Scott dove in after her, and now they were stranded.
Meanwhile at Doom's Castle, the Adirondacks, Storm made a dramatic entrance and demanded to speak with Dr. Doom. Dr. Doom emerged and consented to discussing Storm's demand (that he release Arcade) over dinner. Meanwhile the other X-Men in her team infiltrated the castle to rescue Arcade. Unfortunately for them, they found Arcade's cell empty, and were then set upon by men in battle-suits. A fierce battle ensued with the X-Men victorious. In the dining room, Doom was monitoring the battle while engaging Storm in conversation. When it became apparent the battle-suits had lost, Doom presented another of his guests, Arcade. Realizing it was a trap, Storm attacked Doom, but he withstood the assault and hit Storm with a weapon that turned her into a statue. The other X-Men arrived seconds too late, only to be laid low by energy weapons. Colossus emerged unscathed, but Dr. Doom paralyzed him with a neural disruptor and emerged victorious.
Dr. Doom captured the X-Men and devised cunning traps for each of them. Nightcrawler was in a featureless box, incapable of knowing where he was or where he could safely teleport to. Colossus was on an apparent mountain peak, with a whirlpool slowly climbing upwards. Wolverine was in a checkerboard amorphous anti-gravity room that was driving his senses crazy and every time he hit a wall, it accelerated him and Angel was in a giant birdcage where the perch was safe, but any attempt to leave it lead to many low-intensity lasers turning the air into a maze of crisscrossing beams. Storm was trapped in organic chrome - the epitome of confinement - a state which triggered her claustrophobia and caused her to unconsciously generate a fierce Storm across the whole eastern seaboard.
That storm caused a near miss lightning bolt to jolt Cyclops' eye-bandage off, revealing his optic blast to Lee Forrester. The bandage was re-applied, but Scott would have some explaining to do.
The reserve X-Men called in to follow the second half of Storm's plan to fly over the derelict amusement park where the X-Men were released last time they tangled with Murderworld. Polaris used her magnetic powers to trace the underground structures back to Murderworld. Havok 'dug' a tunnel and Polaris short-circuited the electronics to prevent detection, or so she thought. But then a holographic Miss Locke welcomed them, and the games began. Trap doors separated our heroes.
Havok found himself on a roller coaster with spacecraft shooting at him. Some were holograms, but some were dangerously real. He blasted some, but then things looked to get worse as he was headed into a large mothership's mouth. He jumped out at the last second, landing on the outside of the mother-ship. Predictably, his roller coaster car exploded.
Iceman found himself on an ice rink with some enraged hockey players. An ice shield kept them at bay, but the excess weight tumbled the robot players through the ice and into acid. More players skated into the rink, and heating vents turned on.
Banshee found himself in an old-west shoot-out. Deprived of his powers, he had to rely on his Interpol training. He out shot the other robot, but its padres wanted in on the action. Sean used a 'micro-bomb' to destroy them, blowing a hole through the wall where he saw Moira being tied to train tracks.
Polaris found herself on a merry-go-round. She got distracted by what looked like Illyana Rasputin running by her, only to be attacked by the merry-go-round's horses. She destroyed them with her power and went after the girl, except it wasn't Illyana at all, but a robot with a gun. Of course, robots nor guns were no threat to a mistress of magnetism, but then the ride started spinning incredibly quickly, launching itself into the air and detonating, but Polaris managed to protect herself. However, an inhibitor field caused her to fall.
Polaris fell into Iceman's chamber, who caught her. However, the weight of his ice-slide collapsed the rink surface below, meaning he needed to escape now or be eaten by acid. He super-cooled the wall in front of him, making it brittle enough to smash through.
Havok got into the utility tunnels and shorted out a major box. Chambers went to investigate and was taken out by Havok.
Banshee defeated the villain tying her, but she was tied with wire so untying her quickly was impossible. However, along the track came Amanda Sefton and Candy Southern tied up in a roller coaster car, so blowing up the track would kill them. Banshee resigned himself to having to blow up the track when Polaris and Iceman arrived, preventing anyone's death. Suddenly Moira, Amanda, and Candy exploded. They were all robot simulacrums. Our heroes were saved by Polaris's quick magnetic shield.
Miss Locke watched all of this with glee until Havok showed up and trashed her firearm. The control center disabled, the X-Men quickly freed the hostages and made it back out to the hover-jet to discover a major storm outside.
Doom had also noticed the Storm, and it worried him. Arcade, however, was unconcerned and he noticed that Nightcrawler just disappeared from his cell.
Nightcrawler finds himself high in the air above Doom's castle, having teleported blind from a featureless room (last issue). Falling unconscious briefly, Nightcrawler awakes to find himself falling frighteningly fast. He skydives for an updraft and then teleports into the lake near Doom's castle - emerging alive but shivering. He reflects on the circumstances that brought him to this situation (last two issues).
Doom has not failed to notice Nightcrawler's escape, and he orders his men to recapture the X-Man. Doom is worried about the growing storm centered on his castle, although Arcade is unfazed. Doom's unease is echoed by NORAD.
Nightcrawler makes his re-entrance to the castle, disabling two guards. Elsewhere, Colossus has discovered that the lasers below are attuned to size and that chunks of Colossus' size are zapped, those of Peter Rasputin's size are left untouched. Taking a deep breath, he swims downwards, past the cannons, turning into Colossus only when he's safely past. He punches a hole in the wall.
In his giant birdcage Angel has figured out that the lasers which fire when he leaves the perch are actually patterned to create a maze. He flies this maze at high speed and escapes just as his cell detonates behind him - only to get a mouthful of water as Colossus's flood washes over him.
Wolverine, trapped in an anti-gravity chamber which is royally messing with his senses, tries to embrace the beast without letting it control him. He hacks into anything he hits, and eventually, the anti-gravity gives out, dropping him onto the floor. Wolvie carves his way out of the cell and notices the loud thunder shaking the very castle. Ororo must be in trouble, so he rushes up the stairs to confront Doom! Doom tells 'Ororo' (a robot) to deal with him, and Wolvie trashes the robot. Doom blasts Wolverine, but Nightcrawler's timely arrival is enough for the X-Men to turn the tables. Wolverine offers a deal - Doom's life for Storm's. Doom hands them a device that will restore Storm... and it does...
Storm has become one with the planet, with all its myriad of elemental forces at her command, and though Doom uses the other X-Men's distraction to escape Wolverine's clutches, Storm easily overpowers him. Of course, Storm's not-so-tender ministrations aren't reserved solely for Doom, as Colossus finds out when he tries to reason with her. The castle is being torn apart by the storm outside, and Dr. Doom and the X-Men may well be torn apart by the Storm inside. Finally, Colossus says something that triggers Storm's psyche to re-assert itself, and she brings the storm back under control, although it costs her much.
Doom is strangely pleased that Ororo survives the ordeal. Storm again asks for Arcade's freedom, which Doom grants for an apology (rather grudgingly given) from Arcade. Doom also apologizes to Storm, and asks to begin anew (with Storm in particular - yes Doom is hitting on Storm), and Storm consents - a clean slate from that point.
In the Caribbean, Lee and Scott awaken to discover a strange building has emerged from the ocean overnight on the island they're stranded on!
REVIEW
John Byrne’s departure is really felt in this story. Cockrum art feels too aged. And full of inconsistencies. I am not sure if it was Claremont that came up with that dialogue about Doom replacing Wolverine’s costume, but it feels like a continuity error. Perhaps the craziest thing is Storm’s change of costume while she was a statue. Where does it come from?
The villains in this story are forgettable. And yes, I include fake Dr. Doom. Who wasn’t supposed to be a doombot, but since Byrne was writing Doctor Doom on Fantastic Four, and didn’t like the way the character was treated by Claremont, he decided to explain as Doom being replaced by a Doombot. You can read more about it here.
I give this story a score of 5
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I am not my insecurities reflection- a truthful based oneshot
IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE PLEASE READ
Ok, this will be a long author’s note but please bare with me as this is very important for you to understand this oneshot. For some context here because I havent posted alot about her yet, this is a oneshot about my Dc oc Gracie Lucio, set kinda in the same universe(i guess) of the teen titans judas contract movie( with Damian as robin) and its a oneshot written partly out of a vent of my own body image issues and partly out of an expression of how I’ve learned to look past said issues slowly.
But this gets very angsty until the end
Now to give a bit more context for the piece itself. The oc herself, Gracie Lucio( because I havent posted any art of her yet) for the reader’s understanding, she is not human, she is a werewolf(it feeds into her story so dont get me started on it alot of research went into this aspect of her character and it plays into her body issues)and body wise looks similar to Dick in the first season of Young Justice. Shes a naturally thin figured , broader shouldered girl who could( if she really wanted to) pass as a feminine boy with short jaw/ barely chin length hair( think of a thick messy longish pixie cut of dark hair). So shes naturally lean and lanky and a little underdeveloped for a 13 year old girl and as a heroine she has toned muscles from years of hero work. Most wouldnt see her having too many insecurities about her body image and appearance, but in truth shes riddled with them. She ages a bit differently than humans, it takes her body longer to develop and even then in some areas it develops differently all together. She struggles to gain any extra weight or build up natural feminine curves, something she wants. She WANTS to look like other girls her age, with more developed and heavier bodies, with curves and more weight and an actual figure. But with a supernaturally high metabolism added on top of a already genetic based thin figure and a intense and sometimes rigorous training and workout routine plus her work as a heroine gives no leeway to gain really any extra weight, its always worked off one way or another. And this causes...comments to be made about why she looks that way by civilians. and though she never shows it publicly she takes many of these, usually not flattering and sometimes cruel and rude, comments to heart(much like I used to unfortunately) and it worsens her negative feelings. This is a small story of her seeing those problems and issues and trying to face and overcome them. This is more centered around Gracie and Dick and Jason and their platonic and sibling like relationship as they help her through her darker times( again, this is partly me expressing my own personal struggles with body image (which arent the exact same as the character but the language and the comments are very similar)and partly how those two helped inspire me to have more confidence in my body no matter what I look like) and also a deeper peek into her complex relationship with Damian(but thats not the biggest focus) Sorry this was so long I mightve info-dumped a little but its important to understand the story. I hope you guys enjoy?
This is also told in Gracie’s point of view
This will cover some pretty deep kinda issues like body image problems and over eating and weight loss/gain and mentions of eating disorders without really discussing them and bullying so if that upsets you in any way now is the best time to scroll past for your own sake, I dont want you to upset yourself over my crappy emotional writing
I do not look that bad.
That’s what I have to force my mind to accept as I look into the mirror, meeting my own aqua green eyes hesitantly.
I always hated looking in the mirror lately, especially after training or after bathing, like now as I stood in the middle of my room in a slightly loose training type sports bra and spandex shorts. I don’t even want to glance down at my body, out of fear for seeing the same thing I always do.
‘She so skinny...is she eating right’
‘She needs to eat more and gain some weight’
‘what a twig for a superhero’
‘how have bad guys not snapped her in half? Jesus Christ I could probably break her with a sneeze!’
‘What a bad influence shes setting for young girls with such an thin figure!’
‘I think He needs to eat more Christ that poor boy must be starving! Why isn’t Nightwing feeding him more’
The flashes of comments flooded my mind the moment my eyes flickered down to the rest of me. To my thin, unfeminine figure. My underdeveloped and flat birdcage of a chest. To my lanky, toned, too flat stomach. The pinched waist figure. The flat empty expanse I called hips that blended too well into my too dainty looking bony legs. I looked too fucking skinny. And maybe they were right...as a hero I was a role model to those younger than me, and I promoted a Bad Body Image for girls to idolize with my lanky boy figure.
And it was a horrible body type I had no goddamn control over.
My species was not an easy one to live as, especially not intermingled with humans. The team knew, the team understood, but the rest of the world didn’t. As a lupinotuum pectinem, or lycanthrope which in easy translation is simply “Werewolf”, my whole body inner workings were different. Most of my kind were naturally lean and thin, like tall healthily thin model athlete body types and in general the females, even alpha females, were practically born twig like almost. And on top of that our bodies developed....differently. I was not raised by a pack or by my own kind after age 8, so even I didn’t know the full extent but females bodies took longer to grow and it made it very hard for them to gain weight because of the unnaturally high metabolism. Add being a superhero who once trained under a certain league member to the mix and you go from being the “healthy and admirable” type of skinny to the “unhealthy and concerning”type of skinny.
I hated it, and I hated my body. I hated pictures of me from the neck down, because they all looked the same no matter who they were with. And I saw the comments everyone made. Whether its a surprise photo Garfield took dragging me into the picture to commemorate something or another or me taking pictures around Gotham or Blüdhaven with Dick on the social media Gar helped me set up, or even the rare photos I’d get to take with Jason or Damian or Tim and get to post. Every time the flood of comments were the same. The same things I now repeated over and over as I looked over my body angrily.
OMG look at that poor girl is she ok??? She looks like she needs to be hospitalized!
Christ almighty BB isn’t it too early to be posing with skeletons?? LOL
Dude not funny that girl must be anorexic or something.
Such a cute sibling couple but sweetie you need a fast food break to add some fat to those bones!
Fuck kid go eat something instead of taking pictures
Awwww you two look real happy! I hope you’re on the way to lunch or something!
Holy shit your guy’s size difference is so vast its almost worrying
how are you even alive with that little weight
Go eat some junk food or something before you pass out
OMG look at her shes so small and stick like! Her clothes look like they’re hanging off a scarecrow!
That girl cannot be healthy tell me someone is making her eat more
Every time its always the same damn thing....
I couldn’t do it anymore. I turned away from the mirror nearly in disgust and went back to changing into more casual clothes, bitterly noting how my clothes did in fact seem to hang awkwardly on my body as if I was too thin for them to fit correctly. Like they always did lately.
Ew look at her she looks so gross all stick-like like that!
What a fucking twig of a girl! Are those her ribs poking through her shirt??
Bitch go eat a fucking hamburger you need some damn food in you.
God that weight cant be healthy you need a doctor!!
“Kid? Yo kid you in there?” My head jerked up from the comments flooded screen of my phone to meet Jason’s eyes, catching the quirk of his eyebrow as he sat across the diner table from me. We were at a diner he favored whenever he came into town to visit, a little family owned treasure with delicious and greasy food and the sweetest staff on earth. We frequented the spot during his visits, our own personal little thing since we’d gotten closer. I plastered on a smile and ignored the slight narrow of those blue eyes, the small furrow of his brow got as I snapped off my phone and set it aside.
“Sorry Jay, BB tagged me in something dorky and I got distracted. So what were you saying?”
He didn’t believe me, and I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t the most convincing at that moment but I kept that damn plastic smile on my face and snagged some of his curly fries right in his face, making him crack a smile and smack my hand away from his tray.
“ Hands off my food, eat your own wolfie.” I rolled my eyes at the stupid nickname I’d been branded and let the plastic smile slowly be replaced by a more genuine one as we began chatting again, grabbing my over sized cheeseburger and finishing every last bite and moving onto the large fries and two milkshakes, hopelessly praying that maybe this time the calories would stick and trying to push away the comments to the back of my mind. I was with Jason and we were having a damn good time, and I wasn’t going to let those comments ruin his visit...not again.
You should be ashamed. All you’re doing is promoting bad eating habits looking like that.
You’re such a bad influence for young girls who idolize you with such a horribly unreachable appearance.
Shes too bony to ever be considered pretty
Does she have a eating disorder or something?
I stiffened instantly startled by a hand on my shoulder, turning off my phone instinctively and making the endless comments disappear into darkness before whoever could see them over my shoulder. The hand was big, calloused, and gentle and I felt myself relax as I looked up behind me with a smile.
“ Hey Dick, did you need something?” He smiled down at me with that big bright smile that made all the dark thoughts and feelings melt away and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, blue eyes meeting aqua green.
“ Well I was wondering if you’re doin’ anything right now or if you’d want to go catch dinner with Kori, Dami, and I. I noticed that you’d skipped your usual early dinner....” I wasn’t surprised he noticed, he normally did...
Once again that smile plastered itself on my face as I told him I’d love to, and to just let me go get changed into something better. I saw his hesitation at the fake smile, practically smelled it on him and prayed he wouldn’t bring it up right now, god please don’t ask now or I might just break...
Maybe god is listening because he didn’t mention it and just told me to meet them by the front doors of the tower in ten.
How are you not dead yet?
Jesus Christ stop promoting your eating disorder like its a good thing!
She looks so sickly is she ok? :(
Yeah shes sick, sick in the damn head for posting such disgusting pro-Ana pictures
How can you post pictures with a clear conscience looking like that?
Some “superhero”
I was wrong, no god was listening to me.
Dinner was rough to get through, even if it didn’t start that way.
For once I didn’t have to worry or dread possibly checking my phone for anything, I turned it off by the time we got to the restaurant. I even got a small compliment from Damian on our way in, though it was more a snark at me not tripping up the stairs. But it was Damian so I snapped right back with a smile, knowing he didn’t really mean it. Sitting beside Dick and across from Damian, I nudged his foot with mine in a silent gesture to cheer up even a little. He huffed through his nose but I saw his body relax and it made me relax. Those moments before the food came, our chatter and soft laughter as we looked over the menu, and the soothing knowledge knowing that Dick pulled me and Damian along to this dinner so we would go out on a date ourselves, ever the best brother and wingman. The mood was light and pleasant and I could see even the ever sharp and moody Dami lighten up a little by the time we ordered. Maybe the mood shifted into something different as we waited for our food and I was sipping on my tall glass of iced cola, when Damian’s fingers casually brushed over the top of my unused hand that laid peacefully on the table. The gesture was subtle and light, quick enough to miss if your senses weren’t sharp. I didn’t acknowledge it and neither did he, a silent understanding that words would just ruin whatever this was. I accepted that happily, as he was much more engaged in the conversations and even smiling a little more during them as he debated with Kori on leading strategies. Things were pleasant, comforting at that table in those few seconds before the decline, Dick smiling and chuckling at his lover and little brother, Said lover and brother having a more upbeat discussion about different leadership styles and their effects, and lightly debating which work better for what. And Damian’s hand next to mine, ever so lightly brushing against it in his wordless way to say I was still there and at even the smallest twitch I’d have his attention again. Dick ruffled my hair and asked how my online courses were coming along, since I didn’t attend schools publicly and I was more than happy to babble about my classes, and my current work in them. It was nice and I was happy, all the horrible feelings from before draining away as I tuned everything else but these three out of my enhanced hearing. Why had I even felt so shitty when I had great people like them in my life?
Then I heard it as that damned supernatural hearing tuned back in to the rest of the world.
The words and whispers and mutters and the blatant gossip and bad mouthing.
“Look at that younger girl sitting at that table dear...shes so thin I think she should be in a hospital not a restaurant.”
“Ewww mom look that girl looks like a skeleton!”
“ Honey shush….”
“Is….is that girl ok?”
“Dude of course she isn’t just look at her shes unhealthy as fuck. Probably has some kind of eating disorder too or something.”
It all flooded over me and all of my happy mood washed away under the wave. I couldn’t tell if the others could hear them so I grit my teeth tried to tune it all back out, trying so hard to focus more on Kori’s explanation of her points. My hands began to curl up subconsciously, making Damian’s attention snap to me. Fuckin I….no, I cant tell him...I shouldn’t. I forced my hand to uncurl and that stupid smile sprawled across my lips as if someone had put tape over them. I saw his eyes narrow and near begged mentally for him to not say anything or for Dick to distract him...anything.
“Ahem….your meal.”
I have never more thankful to a waitress before in my life...until I saw the look she gave me as she placed my admittedly large order of food in front of me, something that was normally a platter for two people’s worth of beef and sides. I caught the judgmental and suspicious look she had glancing between me and my food and I felt shame burn all over, starting to hang my head to avoid that damn look.
“ If this is all our food then your job is done. Don’t you have OTHER tables to be serving?” Damian’s curt and sharp tone cut through the air and briefly through my shame. This waitress knew nothing about me and i certainly owned no one any explanations about my eating habits, so why was she hanging around giving me looks about my food…?
“ Damian don’t be so rude!” Dick cleared his throat and I felt his strong arm wrap protectively around my shoulder as he leaned close to the edge of the table while Kori’andr apologized for Damian’s attitude vaguely. But I could hear it, there wasn’t much life to her apology. It sounded like a politely required apology, almost...defensive?
“ I am so sorry about my little brother Miss. He’s also sorry. But do you need anything else since we seem to be all set here but you’re still hanging around when you must be very busy…?” Dick’s words were sweet and cheerful, but there was an edge to his tone that gave a clear warning. His arm around me tightened a little protectively as he gave one of his signature charming smiles that could light up half the damn city as he then inquired if there was some sort of problem. The waitress stammered that there wasn’t any problem and that it was fine and for us to enjoy our meal before scampering away to continue her work. I felt other patrons eyes most DEFINITELY on us now and I couldn’t help shrinking into the taller man’s side to hide.
“ I’m sorry this keeps happening…” I murmured to him as our respective dates started eating and slowly reviving their conversation, moving on to mission recounts and training while Damian shot a dark look at the other patrons that made them look away. Dick gave my shoulder a squeeze and i moved closer for that familiar warmth and comfort...my chest felt heavy and my appetite had died and I wanted to curl up in my room and die of the shame. But I couldn’t, he wouldn’t have let me. So instead I instinctively sought out the safety Dick’s presence brought me, like a protective older sibling whose arms I could be enveloped in and forget about the harsh world outside them.
He knew without words, catching my body language before anyone else at the table. He knew me best.
“ Do you want to leave? We can get to go boxes and enjoy this meal all the same back at the tower, or even mine and Kori’s apartment. Is that what you’d rather do?” It was tempting, oh god it was so tempting to just say yes and let him lead me away while I re-gathered myself, same way he did when we were both 13 and living under the same roof...before…
I shook my head and forced those thoughts to the very back of my mind. I was in a dark enough place of mind already without that.
“ N-no...you guys set this up...i...i don’t want one nosy waitress to ruin our whole meal. Lets just eat ok D?” He smiled at the nickname and ruffled my hair with a nod, both him and Kori making sure I knew if things got too uncomfortable we could leave and the heaviness eased a little at their consideration. I started picking at my food and slowly regaining my appetite, once again nudging Damian with my foot to start up conversations. I ignored the words for the majority of the dinner, we even began to enjoy ourselves again. The last straw was probably as we were paying and putting leftovers in to go bins. I was admittedly nibbling on food out of my bin, despite starting to feel full.
“ I swear you are a bottomless pit sometimes Gracia.” I rolled my eyes at Damian’s remark and gave him a small smirk as I licked my fingers clean.
“ This bottomless pit can still kick your ass in training wonder boy~” He grunted and I saw the challenge glow in his eyes as he smirked back, an excitement for tomorrow’s combat training flaring up between us.
“ You really shouldn’t mix up your delusional dreams with reality alpha PUP.” I said something snarky back and we began to bicker halfheartedly over who was winning. I finally snapped shut my leftover box and stood with Damian as we stared each other down confidently, Dick chuckling at our competitiveness.
“ Tomorrow morning’s combat training will certainly be interesting with these two all riled up already.” The words didn’t fully process as I cracked my knuckles and squared up to the admittedly….taller boy.
“ Last I checked Damian I was ahead 11-10. And tomorrow, I just cant wait to make it 12.” He gave a hard laugh to my face and faced up to me with a smirk as our other two companions stood and shooed us more in front of the table so they could leave their seats. He opened his mouth to say something likely scalding and snarky back at me when the worst comment pierced between us both like a goddamn bullet.
“ Damn, I never knew such a sickly, too skinny bitch like her could eat like such a fat fucking pig.”
I think I stopped breathing as my body flinched at the following laughter. The man was clearly on the tipsy side and sitting at a larger table with a group of laughing friends, though the one who said it was standing next to the table with a drink that reeked of the cheapest alcohol this restaurant probably sold, and he didn’t stop there. Oh god of course he didn’t stop there. He kept laughing and loudly making obvious comments at me and openly mocking me and how much I ate to his table, either fully aware of what he was doing and that we could clearly see and hear him or too drunk to really care as more insults and name calling that I had heard and seen and read plenty of times before fell from his mouth. My heart was pounding in my ears as the next few moments happened slowly.
I thought I had seen anger plenty of times before, the worse being the one and only time someone made a malicious joke about my appearance to my face when I was walking beside Jason and it took all my supernatural strength to drag him off and away the guy before he murdered him in broad daylight and to keep him walking to wherever we had been heading.
I had seen pissed, but I had never seen downright hellish fury until that moment when I looked at Damian and Dick.
I had seen Damian mad, and angry, and pissed, a few times in our first meetings at me personally. I had seen Dick mad, angry, and pissed off a a fair chunk of times, even if they had never been directly at me. I had never seen this expression on either of them in those times. And in those few moments that passed almost in slow motion and Damian began to lurch forward with murderous intent the thought finally hit me. ‘ Was this...the first time these two had really heard the comments about me? Oh god…’ I felt like I was moving in honey as Damian stalked past me and I tried to reach out to him slowly, a gleam to his eyes that made my blood go cold.
If someone was to ask me in the future what I believed Death looked like, I would say with completely conviction that death would have the exact eyes Damian had in that moment: lethal, merciless, and furious. And he would have Dick’s cold expression, a look I never wanted to see on the normal cheerful man’s face ever again.
Time snapped back to a normal speed like a whip and my hand grasped nothing but air as Damian stormed over to the man.
“D...da--”
“What did you just say you disgusting drunk.” I might’ve shivered at his tone and I felt Kori’s hands on my shoulders tugging me back protectively as she looked down at me worried.
“ Gracie...don’t listen to him, there’s no reason to cry.” Cry? What was she talking ab--
That’s when I felt it, something warm and wet sliding down my cheeks and dripping off my chin. I...I was crying. My walls and my limit of bottling things in for one day was crumbling away as I watched Damian go to confront the man, my voice disappearing under the surge of hurt and anxiety. I couldn’t even say his damn name. I felt frozen and helpless as Dick stalked after Damian, fists clenched.
I had to do something say something anything to stop them before things went badly I had to I had--
“Eh?What the fuck did you say to me brat?”
“ You heard me you worthless piece of filth. Apologize to her, now.”
I needed to do something anything as I felt myself crumbling. Why wasn’t Dick stopping him why
“ And what if I don’t pipsqueak? You gonna hit me? Now scram. Maybe take your little bitch to a hospital for treatment instead of parading her around a restaurant with normal people!”
“ He might not do anything, But I will. Now take it back before things get messy.”I think my body began trembling as I watched panic swelling. I just wanted to leave and go home. I didn’t want to see this unfold, I just wanted to be home at the tower curled under my covers to simulate the warmth of another person holding me. I wanted to be anywhere, anywhere else then stuck in this nightmare.
So I moved without thinking and lunged, aiming for the back of Dick’s jacket to grab and ready to swallow any shards of pride and beg to leave. Instead I collided with Damian’s back and rolled with it, hugging him tightly from behind and tugging back with a whimper.
“ P-please you two...l...lets just leave...please lets just go home please…” Kori grabbed Dick’s arm firmly and tugged him back.
“ Dick...shes in the midst of an anxiety attack, let it go and lets leave. We need to get her out of here.” He took a difficult deep breath but nodded glaring down the man harshly enough that he flinched and scurried to the bar with his tail between his legs mumbling insults. One of his friends started to stand and began nervously apologizing, though one vicious look from the boy I was holding shut him up fast. It took me and Kori working together to drag the two out of the restaurant and the ride home was tense and silent. I couldn’t look at any of them, instead opting to stare at my feet wiping my eyes.
“ Does that happen often. People talking about you like that.” His cold tone made me flinch a little. At this point I was so upset and anxious and emotionally drained on the inside that I thought Damian was mad at me of all people for what happened. Those dark thoughts began to slowly bubble up to the surface and my insecurities screamed that he blamed me for what happened in the restaurant. I remained silent, too upset to answer. I heard his growl of annoyance and I began to hunch up, ready for a verbal fight.
“ Damian drop it for now. Shes in no right place of mind to talk about it.” Dick warned from the driver seat with a low voice that reminded me he was also upset and angry. When we got back to the tower I didn’t wait for anyone to say anything, I just bolted for my room as fast as I could, at a inhuman, unnatural speed that they couldn’t keep pace with.
I stayed locked in my room for three days, not willing to face any of them the next morning during training. Everything was heavy and hurt and it was hard trying to rebuild those shattered walls of protection, that image of unbothered confidence. I stayed in bed locked away from the world and curled up under the weak protection of my sheets mostly unresponsive to those outside it.
The first to come knocking and checking on me was Kori, asking if I was ok and if I needed to talk. She left after a little while of trying for a response unsuccessfully though, saying she’d come back to check on me later. It was maybe an hour later that Garfield came knocking, asking why I’d missed breakfast AND training. His voice was concerned as he asked if everything was ok and if I was even in there. The concern poked painfully into my silence, tempting me to speak and make myself vulnerable.
Vulnerability killed. I knew that first hand. So I forced myself to stay quiet until his knocks and footsteps faded away.
The rest of the day passed in a bit of a self deprecating blur, only marked by Kori’s two other attempts at my door. The last one I barely noticed as exhaustion kicked back in and I drifted off into an unsteady sleep
The next day after I woke up things still went by in a near timeless blur. I could hear my phone buzzing and vibrating and rattling for my attention but I left it there on the nightstand unnoticed and curled further under the sheets, lost in a slate tinted world of dark thoughts and darker temptations. But that day was harder to drift away through.
The first to stop by was Jamie, knocking a few times and calling out to me with concern and worry clear in his voice as he asked if I was ok. He asked if I’d eaten at all since yesterday, since he hadn’t seen me leave my room. The thought of eating made my stomach stir and my body curl around it ashamed. He knocked a few more times after that, his voice growing a bit more worried at the lack of answer. After awhile I heard him walk away and I barely lifted my head as I hugged my too skinny too unhealthy body close, feeling those blaring imperfections and flinching at myself.
It was no wonder everyone said those things...if so many people said them so often then they must be true.
The next to come by was Raven. She only knocked twice and gave a small sigh.
“ Gracie...I know you’re in there. If you need someone to talk to...my room is in the next hall over, and I will be here to listen. I wont force you to come out...just please remember you aren’t alone here. You have the team behind you.” I bit my lip hard enough to make it bleed to keep my ensuing whimper silent. The words, soothing and reassuring in context, stabbed into my heart and my resolve. I WANTED to depend on them, to throw open the door and break down under the assurance I could and would not be treated differently after, and be assured and comforted and remind of the positives. I wanted it so badly I was scared of it. Or maybe...I was scared of it NOT happening as those damn fears and insecurities and dark thoughts sowed heavy doubt through me. She lingered a little longer than Jaime, eventually her footsteps disappearing. I remember meekly poking my head from the sheets to stare absently out the half covered windows lost in thought, time slipping by me once more to the point I almost didn’t register Garfield and Kori both stopping by my door again at least twice more worried.
When Dick stopped by as the sun was setting was when the harder pain set in.
I heard the knocks and ignored it in favor of the changing color sky the sunset offered, my room washed in a dim orange and amber gleam. Then I heard his voice, soft and sick with worry from the outside and my heart thudded so hard it hurt. Hard.
“ Gracie...C’mon Gracie-girl please open the door. We’re all worried about you...I’m really worried about you. You haven’t eaten for a day and a half...Please let me in...” I almost broke completely at the pain in that familiar voice, the voice I never wanted to be the cause of being in pain or anguish again.
Well looks like I did a GREAT job of preventing that didn’t I?
He knocked again, asking and pleading and trying to reason, anything to get that door to open. My eyes burned with hot fresh tears and I curled up into a tight ball whimpering softly and breaking my vow of silence.
“....D-dick...p-please...j-just leave me a-alone…I-i just need some t-time alone…”
My voice came out pathetically weak and shaking with tears, which I know he heard. There was a silence for a few moments, perhaps shock that I actually answered this time. I felt warmth sliding down my cheeks as he sighed and reluctantly muttered that he’d come check back on me tomorrow and that there was leftover dinner ready for me to heat up on the kitchen counter before he slowly walked away. His fading footsteps echoing in my ears. Was my heart breaking on every step away? I couldn’t tell. That feeling slipped into the dark thoughts that followed the setting sun. Dark thoughts that also reminded me of the one person who HADN’T come to check on me, and the resulting pain of his absence.
The third day had been mostly quiet. It was almost a painful relief, quiet meant no additional pain of--
“ Gracia.”
That one word coming from Damian’s mouth sent so many things through me and sent any resolve I had spiraling away. His tone was a forced kind of neutral, he sounded as if he was trying to stay calm but it wasn’t exactly working. There was something to his voice I had no energy to figure out. He didn’t knock and there was silence for a few moments but I felt his presence remain.
“ You haven’t eaten since the restaurant.” No questions with him, he didn’t need to ask, always calm and analyzing.
“ ...You cant just stay in there forever Gracia.” A stern lilt to his voice, weakly enforced by the faint sound of his hand on the door. I could only whimper and curl up more. There was another stretch of silence before he sighed and his footsteps continued down the hall.
He was the only one to come check on me, a blessing and a damnation.
The day and night went by so listlessly I didn’t remember falling asleep, only waking up to banging knocks on my door. The volume grated on my sensitive hearing and made me flinch. Who would even be knocking like that…?
“ Oi. Kid. I know you’re still in there. Open the door.” Jason’s hard and no shit taking voice shot through me. Why...Why was Jason in the tower? Why was he in the city?
The knocking continued relentlessly, unlike the others. It even got louder and angrier.
“ Kid I said open this goddamn door.” There was no request or plea in his voice. It was a command, a harsh, cold command. I tried covering my ears with my hands and curling into a tight ball as the knocking continued. He wasn’t about to give up to a little girl.
I knew this too well.
“ Graciea Rosica Lucio I swear to god if you don’t open this goddamn door in the next couple second I will break it down. Now get off your fucking ass and answer me.” I don’t know what it was, but hearing his threat sent my body into mechanical motion, trudging over to the door and reluctantly unlocking it and letting it slide open with a low hiss, the banging finally ceasing. I couldn’t look him in the face, empty and ashamed it took threats to get me to open the door. So I stared dully at his boots and took in his scent as he grabbed the front of my shirt and dragged me back inside. I stumbled clumsily along with as he sat me on my bed and stood in front of me. I kept my gaze down towards his knees, the smell of nicotine wisping off his body in a way that told me he very recently had been smoking, no less than an hour ago most likely. Smoke and city is what filled my room. There was only a beat of silence before he spoke.
“ Look at me.” I lifted my head and stared at his chest and his crossed arms, unwilling to look him in the eyes. I couldn’t bare to see what kind of disappointed look he likely had on his face. Perhaps I didn’t want to see my reflection in his eyes, see the sickly, disgusting and bony figured girl with greasy hair and dark circles under dulled eyes and sallow cheeks. I heard the slight growl that rumbled from the back of his throat in warning and I briefly wondered if I would be forced to look him in the eyes. His arms uncrossed and I prepared myself for anything.
Anything except for two big plastic grocery bags filled with fast food bags and orders was dropped onto my lap, the contents still hot. I blinked slowly once, twice, and finally got enough courage in my confusion to look up at his face. When I did I was a little startled.
“ Eat. And you aren’t moving until those bags are polished off understand me?”
He looked visibly angry, eyes narrowed and mouth locked in a fearsome scowl with eyebrows furrowed. But his eyes were soft and worried and it took me a minute to realize worry was what was making his scowl so harsh. He crossed his arms across that broad chest again and I realized he was in his work gear, all the way down to the guns strapped to his thighs. All he lacked at the moment was his helmet and domino mask, his dark hair messier than usual and the white streak falling between his eyes. We had a staring contest and in those pupils I saw myself, I saw the shell I had become and it made me sick, breaking me briefly from the depressive haze.
How the hell had I let myself fall this far, this deep?
We didn’t speak until he grunted, eyes narrowing more in a way even those concerned blues didn’t weaken the glare as he spoke gruffly.
“ You better start eating before I start just shoving it down your damn throat.” I knew he would too. He wasn’t fucking around, I didn’t doubt he’d follow through with any threats made. Slowly I looked down at the pile of food and reached for the first bag, pulling it open and blinking fast as fresh tears stung my eyes.
It was from our favorite diner, and it was my usuals two cheeseburgers and large lightly salted fries with a second order of fat steak fries and fried pork strips. He’d even gotten all the little sides I enjoyed with it and I looked back up at him with a pained look. Maybe that look made him relax because his expression softened slightly, his voice quieting to something gentler.
“ C’mon now...I brought you all your favorites, now start eating...it’s been three days and your body cant handle that. We can talk after.” My shoulders slumped as all the tension stored in my body dissipated a little as he continued to speak, like a tightly pulled strong finally cut loose.
“ Kid I’m not mad at you. No one is. So just eat the food and then we’ll figure shit out, just like we do on any other visit.” I think the tears started falling because his face got blurry and there was warmth in my face. If I did start crying he didn’t say anything, just nodded at the bag. I gulped and slowly but surely pulled out one of the burgers and slowly took a bite, struggling a little to swallow it with a throat that was closing up from emotions. Once I did though my hunger kicked me hard and I began devouring the food, one bag after another.
It took me about a half hour to finish both plastic bags but I did, followed by slamming through at least two water bottles and one thick milkshake that almost made a mess. Jason simply watched over me as I ate from his spot in front of me. The silence was almost soothing, not painful as it had been before. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as I looked back up at him and we made eye contact.
“ So are you going to tell me what happened? Really happened?” I broke his gaze to stare towards the floor as the acidic shame began to creep back over me. He sighed.
“ C’mon kid just let it out already. Who am I to judge? So why don’t you trust me like you USED to and tell me?” Those words shot through my heart and head.
I...I wasn’t trusting him...trusting anyone...I…i...
It was like Jason opened a flood gate.
It all came spilling out with a new surge of tears and mid sentence cracking sobs, my body physically heaving from the intensity as it all came out. All the months of insecurities and pain and doubts and fears and comments and negativity and hate and bullying came rushing out like a tidal wave and Jason took to all, listening to everything without a single word as I let everything out and let myself break down completely, wails and sobs replacing words eventually. I felt him shift and kneel in front of me, felt big strong sturdy hands grip my shoulders to steady me and keep me anchored as I buried my face into my hands and gasped out cries and pained wailing yowls that filled the room and spilled out of it. I vaguely remember the sounds of multiple hurried footsteps coming towards the door but I didn’t care. All I felt was Jason’s hands on my shoulders and his steady, continuous heartbeat in my ears as well as he strong breathing. One set of footsteps dared to enter the room and hurry over, only stopped by Jason’s calm voice.
“ Let her get it out, its the only thing that’ll help.” The footsteps stopped and eventually the wails faded into blubbering whimpers and whines and hiccups, constantly sniffling. I lifted my head to look at him through blurred eyes and got one brief sight of Dick standing behind Jason that sent me into a whole new wave of sobs.
God I’ve been nothing but selfish and now I’d fucking hurt Dick again even when I swore I’d never do that again and i--
I let out a high pitched whine that turned into pathetic blubbered and wailed apologies. Over and over like a broken record I couldn’t stop apologizing to them for everything even parts that weren’t my fault in any way I still apologized for it I just couldn’t stop. Jason’s grip on me tightened only slightly before slipping away and for a single moment I was terrified I’d annoyed him with all the apologies and was about to add that to my list of them when two strong arms wrapped around me and and Dick’s scent surrounded me.
“ Shh shh shh shhh….shhh Gracie its ok now shh shh its ok I got you its not your fault…” I sniffled and wailed out more sobs and begs for forgiveness as I clung to him like he was a life preserver. And at that moment he was. He hugged me tighter and practically cradled me into his chest stroking my hair as he murmured reassurances, assuring me I was well forgiven and it wasn’t my fault. Everyone got insecurities especially when facing so much negativity. How I was so strong for fighting it for so long regardless. But it was ok to not always be strong and be able to handle it. That he was there and it was ok now. It took awhile but eventually all my noise quieted down to sniffles and hiccups and the occasional whimper as my trembling and heaving finally eased away into a limp tiredness. I felt exhausted but in a way different than the past couple days. I felt lighter and the more Dick spoke gently the lighter and more relaxed I felt,all the pain easing as he banished every dark thought one by one.
“ You ARE a hero Gracie.”
“ you aren’t a skeleton or a scarecrow or a twig.”
“ You are not too bony.”
“ You’re beautiful.”
“ You aren’t sick and you don’t need any doctors.”
“ You’re ok. The way your body works and retains weight naturally is not your fault.”
“ You’re only thirteen you’re still growing kiddo.”
“ I was scrawny and thin until I was at least sixteen Gracie its not that uncommon.”
“ You do NOT have to hold yourself to stupid human beauty standards.”
“ You’re beautiful to us, that’s all that matters.”
“ You’re ok, you have us.”
Each and every statement cleared my mind and I slumped against him with tears still falling down my cheeks. His hand carefully cupped the back of my neck in a soothing gesture to ease the wolf side of me, adding a very small amount of pressure to ensure the sense of security and safety the movement brought. I whispered out a hoarse thank you, my throat sore and raw but already beginning to heal. He smiled into my hair and I let my eyes slip shut in contentment. I felt...stabilized, as if the whole world had been constantly tilted dangerously under my feet for months and now it had finally been returned to normal, balancing me once again.
I felt a second, no technically third, hand tangle itself into my thick and greasy hair and ruffle it affectionately, fingers tangling themselves in the dark chestnut locks.
“ We’re always here for you kid. Whether you like it or not. You can be honest and confide in your inner circle Gracie. We aren’t going to look at you any differently...so next time don’t keep your mouth shut.” My nerves settled and I leaned into his hand with a loud hiccup, making him snort. I looked up and saw both older men smiling down at me, both with their own kind of soft expressions. I rubbed my eyes and wiped my nose and smiled back shakily, feeling like everything was going to be ok for the first time in a long while.
I learned a few things a few hours later, after I’d fallen asleep in Dicks arms and woke up on the couch out in the Tower’s game room with Garfield and Jaime looking after me. My head was resting on Garfield’s leg and he had his elbow rested on my upper arm comfortably as he and Jaime played some kind of two player video game, keeping their voices lower than usual to be considerate of me sleeping. Opening my eyes was difficult as they felt dry and crusted and stung from crying so much. But my throat was no longer sore. When they saw I was awake they paused the game and and told me they were happy I was up, as I had been out cold for at least a solid couple hours. That was when I learned the first thing : Dick and Kori had informed the team of the incident at the restaurant after the first day I stayed locked up in my room, and Garfield had let it slip in his rage that he thought I had finally stopped getting those comments, and confessed that I’d been getting bullied and harassed about my appearance online for months. What I found out was all those months what I failed to notice was Garfield fighting back on my behalf every chance he got. He defended me, constantly called people out for harassment and even worked on getting some of the worst and most aggressive ones banned. For months he’d been do it as relentlessly as he could, filling his own social medias with both our pictures and his constant defense and positivity towards me to fight it back. It got lost in my own comment section so I stupidly didn’t realize. It warmed my heart knowing he’d kept my back even when I never noticed or mentioned it, though he waved it off and just gave me his big old smile telling me it wasn’t that big a deal,
“ After all, you’d do the same for me in a heartbeat!” And he wasn’t wrong. But I still hugged him tight in thanks anyway, an embrace he happily returned as he warned me next time I lied about being harassed there’d be hell to pay.
I assured him there wasn’t going to be a next time anymore and for the first time in months finally wholeheartedly meant it.
The second thing I learned was Jaime told me during those first two days I was locking myself away Damian had gone back to the restaurant and used Bruce’s name to hunt that guy that had been harassing me down and gotten a few hefty harassment charges and minor endangerment charges slapped onto the guy, throwing in a sob story of how I was now in emergency care in the hospital because of him. I knew he didn’t throw his last name around often, didn’t exactly like having to do so to be taken seriously. The fact he did for me…
I had a lot more feelings for Damian after that knowledge.
The third thing I learned was that the only reason Dick and Kori hadn’t come by to check on me yesterday was was because they spent the entire time hunting for Jason to get his help with getting me out, and when they DID find him he stormed for the tower and made it there before they did somehow, he was that angry.
As they were telling me this and retelling a very tense video call between Nightwing and Batman during the second day Damian came in in his full Robin attire, regarding us stoically. When I saw him I stood and the room quieted as I approached him, the both of us observing each other. When we stood a foot apart I stared into his masked eyes quietly and he looked into my tired eyes. I saw his mouth start to open to speak and my body lurched forward without me, hugging onto him tightly.
“Thank you...you didn’t have to do that for me thank you thank you thank you…” He was quiet and I was about to let go and move away when I felt his arm come around me and grip the back of my shirt, returning the embrace. Neither of us was at a point that we were really physically affectionate by any means but my heart swelled when he hugged me back, leaning his head against my own and allowing me to bask in the warmth of his arms and his scent. When I felt him roll his shoulders I took that as my cue and slowly pulled away, gently pressing a kiss to his cheek as I did before retreating back to give him his space.
I think I saw his cheek flare pink but I’ll never say for sure because that would mean admitting just how red my own cheeks were.
I’d love to say that after that everything ended happily and perfectly and things went great forever and ever. But I cant, life doesn’t work like that.
But things did get better.
I was under heavy supervision several weeks, with almost stricter watches on my food intake to make sure I didn’t try to over eat or try to force weight gain. Bruce had me stay with him and Damian for a few weeks as well to make sure I didn’t slip back into that dark place. It was a bit smothering at times...but in all honesty I welcomed the smothering because I knew it meant how much they all cared. And staying with Bruce again...it brought up my mood believe it or not. Being in the manor brought back happier memories of my childhood and seeing the man I considered a fatherly figure more often perked me up. Plus I got to see Tim a lot more than usual in those few weeks, a perk and joy all in itself as he kept me company when he wasn’t too busy with his work. Tim was also the one who disabled all comments on my social medias one calm rainy evening in the lounge. I was grateful and he patted my head after as he read his case files. I think I might’ve fallen asleep against him, I cant say I fully remember. With each passing week I felt better and better. It took a long time for my self esteem and confidence to rebuild itself, but it got some jump starts. Perhaps the best part was two months later after a sparring session with Kori. She was giving me tips on striking with a staff when Dick and the big bad bat Brucie himself walked in.
“ Batman? Has something happened?” He shook his head and put his hand on my shoulder.
“ I’m going to borrow Gracie for a few minutes.” Dick gently took her hand and smiled as he whispered something to her as he led me out of the training room and placed a long bottle of what looked like red chewy vitamins into my hand. When I looked up at him confused he gave me some of the best news of my life.
“ These are specially created vitamins designed to accommodate your body’s inhuman metabolism. Tim helped me create them. They're designed to help regulate fats and carb distribution in your body and allow your body to hold onto and gain more weight without immediately burning it off. Take one every week and in a few months you should be up at least one weight class if not more as long as you keep to your regular healthy eating habits, just like you wanted. By Tim’s calculations within the year you should gain enough weight to have a thicker figure, though you may always retain this thinner “ballet-ques” figure...you will more closely resemble the figure of girls your age.” I stared up at him then at the vitamins and sniffled, fighting off tears of joy. All those weeks with Tim and his seemingly just curious questions about my species and their anatomy...the “ case files”...I owed Tim a lot for this.
“ It was Dick’s idea, after all that happened two months ago.” The softer tone brought a smile to my face and I nodded, barely restraining the urge to hug Bruce while he was in the cowl.
“ T-thank you...thank you this means more to me than you know…” He nodded and turned to leave but I caught the ghost of a smile on his face as he walked away.
And once he had I ran back into the training room and tackled Dick to the ground with a ecstatic howl, shifting mid leap into wolf form and licking his face in gratitude, making him laugh as he lazily tried to push away my affection.
I started taking them that day, and it took a few months for a noticeable difference to take place, but it did. My clothes and uniform stopped hanging off me like a walking scarecrow and I started developing the beginning of a feminine figure. I stopped trying to stuff my face too much at every meal and with every week after my self esteem raised back up a little higher. Maybe people saw it in the big, wide crooked smiles in pictures of me now, no matter who they were with. Or maybe the team saw it in the fact I stopped trying to hide my body in layers of clothes, walking around in my favorite tank top after missions instead of over sized sweatshirts and shirts, or the fact I didn't mind sudden pictures taken of me. Regardless it showed and in time I was more than happy to show off that confidence. Throughout it all Jason made near constant visits between jobs to make sure I didn’t have too major of setbacks and Dick stayed by my side as often as he could, supporting me and being a physical reminder almost that I was never alone.
And I didn't feel alone.
And one day as I was getting ready for an outing I paused in front of the mirror and looked at myself, looked at my slightly more filled out tank top and the small curve of slightly more defined hips and an actually fairly filled out stomach, a fuller figure to match my broader than normal shoulders. I slowly looked into my own eyes and after a moment I began to smile.
Somehow….I didn't hate looking into the mirror as much as I used to.
“ I do not look that bad. I look fine.”
“ Gracie c’mon you coming? C’mon the others are gonna leave without us!”
I smiled at my reflection wider before running off out of the room after Jaime’s voice.
“ Im coming!!”
I dont look that bad.
And now I could finally start to see that.
The end.
OOOOOOOH ITS FINALLY DONE ITS FINALLY DONE!
Ive been working on this for three months now and it was really difficult to finish. Originally it wasnt supposed to be so angsty but...it turned out really angsty at the end.
@phantommoonpeople
@kid-crashed
@call-me-n0ni-chan
Tagging those I know will want to read this
I hope you all like it!!
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working-dreamer replied to your post “dimeshipping ficlet idea”
W R I T E I T P L E A S E
HA WELL I don’t have it in me to write the entire thing but I can try to do the most important scene ;P
This was one of the greatest acting challenges of Scrooge’s long life as an adventurer, and with every piece of treasure he destroyed, it was getting harder to keep it up. Still, if the plan was to work... goodbye, priceless vase - smashed to the floor, while Magica let out another giddy cackle, spinning around in his office chair.
“Oh, this is the best night of my life!” She squealed, clapping in delight. “I can’t imagine how many millions that was worth!”
“Six point two hundred.” Scrooge said bitterly, wishing he had gotten the recommended insurance way back when, but then he doubted many insurance companies covered “forced to destroy it as I need to pretend to be evil to distract a wicked sorceress.” Biting back a sigh, he slid back into the act, smoothing down his robes. “But it means nothing to me anymore! None of this does! I’ve finally discovered something greater than finding treasure... destroying it, so no one else can have it!” He finished it with a maniacal laugh, having heard so many of those in his years that he could do it in his sleep.
Magica let out another pleased giggle, sliding out of his chair and putting her wand aside - if only that blasted thing could be broken, then she’d be no threat. For now, she summoned a map and spread it across his desk. “Next, we strike your friends at SHUSH! Betraying each and every single one of your allies... it’s the perfect revenge! The most powerful secret agency in the world, ruined in one night, by Scrooge McDuck!” She was so caught up in her planning and gloating that she failed to hear the tiny shuffles in the air vents above.
Scrooge, however, heard them just fine, and smiled. A small part of him had been worried that Donald wouldn’t catch on, but much to his relief it appeared that the plan was working. If his family could grab the wand, this whole nightmare would be over.
“Although...” Magica paused momentarily, cupping her chin in thought. “I wonder, perhaps, if it would be even worse for you if I gave you freedom, temporarily.”
Scrooge’s smile vanished abruptly. “What?”
“What if I gave you back your empathy, so you could see with your own eyes all that you’ve wrecked?” Magica mused, strumming her fingers on his desk. “And then I could turn you back into your evil self, and then go back and forth, letting you know that you were trapped eternally under my fingers! Yes, that would be marvelous, a cage of your own doing!”
Well... that wasn’t good, for several reasons. First and foremost, if she tried to “free” him now, she’d realize he was never cursed at all, and things would snowball from there. Plus, he needed to keep her away from the wand, so his nephews could grab it. Scrooge’s eyes flew all over the room, trying to think of an idea - he wasn’t smarter than the smarties for nothing - and noticed that one of the few things that was left intact was his classic phonograph, with a tango ready to play.
Scrooge raised an eyebrow. Hm. Hmmm. It’d been a while since he tried this particular tactic on anyone, but it seemed like the best option for now, though he was fully aware that once this was episode was over, he’d never hear the end of it from the kids. Oh well. With a click of his tongue, he nudged the phonograph with his cane, letting it skip a bit before it began playing timed notes. “As... amazing as that sounds, don’t you think we’re rushing things a bit?”
Magica kept her back to him, making a few notes on the map. “Rushing what?”
“I don’t think there’s a need to turn me be back into my fuddy-duddy ways so soon.” Scrooge calmly walked up behind her, glancing once at the vents - he caught a glimpse of Donald’s eye color, nodded once, and resumed his tactic. “The night is young, and there’s so much more we can do celebrate your victory.” With that, he placed his hand on her shoulder.
(In the vents, Donald quietly groaned. “Oh, I hate it when he does this.”
Naive as ever, the triplets blinked at their uncle, with Dewey taking the lead. “Does what?”)
Magica, for the moment, was equally befuddled as she turned her head towards him. “It’s my victory, so I get to decide...” Her threat trailed off because when, just when, had Scrooge gotten that close to her? ... And why was music playing? “Scrooge?”
Scrooge merely smirked, his eyes taking on a certain twinkle as he took her hand in his, running his thumb over her knuckles. “Maybe it’s the spell talking, but... I’ve always found you very attractive, Magica.”
(Donald quickly slapped his hands over Dewey and Huey’s mouths, with Webby covering Louie’s, to prevent the giant “EWWWW!” that threatened to escape their beaks. “Keep it together, guys!” Webby whispered. “We need to get the wand! Unlock the hatch, and we’ll use what we have to pick it up! Keep your breakfast in your bellies, boys!”)
Several notes of music kept playing while Magica tried to register what had just been said and who had just said it. It was if there was a sixteen-car-pile-up crash in her head and she hadn’t been wearing a seat beat. As a result, all she could think of to say was a very undignified “Uh.”
“Yes, I know, all very sudden and what-not.” Scrooge continued, suddenly spinning Magica like a toy top until she was properly dizzy, then clasping her back and hand, stepping in tune to the music which had picked up a bit of speed. “Maybe it’s the moonlight reflecting in those gorgeous eyes of yours-”
“Wait-” Magica found herself moving to a song she’d never heard of before.
“Or perhaps it’s just that delicious voice of yours that keeps luring me-”
“Hang on a second-” Was she being twirled?!
“But I think deep down,” Scrooge went on, dipping Magica so low that she was genuinely surprised his back didn’t snap in two. “You’ve always felt a spark between us.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”
(In the vents, a plan had been devised and was finally being into action. With the hatch open, they stuck a heavy wad of gum to the hook of Webby’s grappling hook, intending to use it as a fishing rod. They began to slowly string it down... when Donald accidentally let go of the hatch door, letting it crash to the floor. )
Magica jerked - “What was that?” and would have turned her head at the noise, had Scrooge not yanked her in deeply and planed the deepest kiss he could possibly muster at his age on her lips.
(Thankfully this time the screams from the triplets died in their throats, with Donald rolling his eyes at their near-fainting reactions. This wasn’t quite how he planned to tell them about the birds and the bees. Dewey made a whining, pitiful sound. “Ooooh maaaan, it’s not really going to work, is it?”)
One second passed - then two - but on second three, Magica’s arm slid around Scrooge’s neck until her hand found the back of his head, her eyes closed, returning every bit of passion that she’d been given. Her body pressed close to his, the music now slowing down to a melodic interlude. It didn’t look like either of them were coming up for air anytime soon.
(The triplets informed Donald that if he’d simply told them that a part of adventuring required this, he could have scared them off adventuring altogether a long time ago. Webby resumed ‘fishing’.)
When they finally parted, which felt like ages to everyone, Magica licked her lips, her smile now far more venomous. “My, my, my,” she purred, her arms hanging around Scrooge’s neck. “I like this new side of you, Scroogie.”
“We’ve got fifteen years to make up for,” Scrooge replied, making sure to roll the ‘r’ in every word he could. During his life, he found that many a mate often swooned at his accent, so it was best to up it whenever he needed to. “It’s high-time we got a head-start on it, darrrling.”
“Mmm... I suppose I can wait just a tiny bit longer to turn you back.” She idly stroked the underside of his beak, never realizing how long she hadn’t had mortal warmth until right now. “As long as you can make it worth my while.”
“You should know by now that Scrooge McDuck and ‘worth’ go hand-in-hand. Whatever I want, I get. And in this case...” Time for round two, as he seized her lips again, and this time there was immediate reciprocation. The dance was forgotten about completely, unless there had been many changes to the art form since Magica was gone, since she certainly didn’t know any that involved grabbing your female partner’s leg and hoisting them up so you could grab their thigh.
(”Please get that wand faster,” Dewey begged.
Webby gave her friend a hot glare before resuming her work. “Will you guys just chill already? Technically he’s done this before!”
Louie blinked. “What you mean, ‘technically’?”
“She’s been in the dime for fifteen years, right?” Webby explained, oblivious to Donald’s frantic flailing to try and make her shut up. “And we’ve all seen how many times he’s kissed it. Sure, he probably made sure to avoid her side, but she was still in there.”
This thought had never occurred to the triplets before, and it was perhaps one of the worst cases of bad timing in history, as this time they could no longer restrain their united disgust.
“EWWWW-NOOOO-OH MY GOOOSH-”
THUDHTHUDTHUDHTHUDTHUD)
All that sound and movement wound up causing the entire family to fall right out of the vents, landing right on the floor in a big heap of feathers, and there was no amount of making-out in the world that could distract Magica from that. She stared at the fallen family, then snapped her head back to Scrooge, who wore a very nervous smile, innocently wiggling his fingers. “Uh... don’t suppose you’d fancy a foxtrot, next?”
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A Little Understanding
Title: A Little Understanding: an epilogue to A Good Day
Author: Gumnut
21 – 22 Jul 2018
Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015
Rating: Teen
Summary: “I’m fine, Scott, I promise.”
Word count: 2151
Spoilers & warnings: Nothing canon specific, but won’t make much sense if you haven’t read ‘A Good Day.’
Author's note: Apparently Scott had some questions and I seem to have developed a fascination for Virgil and his piano. I think this may be a little self-indulgence, so I’m keeping it separate from the main fic. I hope you enjoy it in any case.
Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.
It was still dark. The moon still in the sky and the stars still out, hiding the fact that the sun would be rising in the east in the next couple of hours.
It was the hour of quiet. An hour he’d seen quite a bit of lately, but for the first time Virgil could actually feel it.
He felt at rest, his heart calm.
Even though he again couldn’t sleep.
It didn’t worry him this time. He was tired, but it was a good tired, not the wretched tired of yesterday.
He padded down the stairs from his bedroom into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. His socks didn’t make a sound on the tiles, the slight rustle of his pyjamas and the hum of the refrigerator the only sounds not made by the night outside.
He didn’t turn on the light. He didn’t need it. Leaving the glass on the bench, he climbed the back stairs into the comms room, sock-skated across to the huge open bay window and out onto the balcony.
He stared out at the ocean. Reflected starlight stared back.
He closed his eyes.
It had been a good day.
A very good day.
A cool breeze ruffled his hair.
A breath in.
A breath out.
A moment of stillness.
A moment to breathe.
An unseen presence appeared beside him.
Without opening his eyes, he opened his mouth. “A bit early even for you.”
A quiet voice. “And even earlier for you. You okay?” There was still a touch of worry from yesterday in the question.
Eyes still closed. “I’m fine, Scott, I promise.”
There was silence and the sounds of the night regained their dominance.
“Virgil, how does it work?”
“How does what work?”
“How do you channel all that into the music?”
Virgil opened his eyes and looked at his brother. The moonlight sculpted his features in silver. He licked his top lip. “I guess..” How to explain it? He brought his fingers to his chest. “I take it and shove it out and make it into something. Use the energy.” He flung his hands forward. “It gets rid of it. Makes it easier.” A lopsided smile. “And hey, sometimes I get something to show for it.”
Scott’s voice was quiet. “So what happened yesterday?”
Virgil dropped his head and ran his hand through his hair. “My fault. Hadn’t done it for a while. Got bottled up. I guess no art makes Virgil a bear head.”
“It’s that simple? All that grump and all we had to do was make you sit at the piano?” There was just a hint of a smile on Scott’s face.
Virgil snorted. “Simple? When you put it that way...” He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Should we call in Kayo and do that hog-tying?”
“Hah!”
Scott’s smirk wrinkled into a more serious expression. “Really, Virgil, you scared us.”
He frowned. “Why?”
Blue eyes widened. “Did you hear what you played?”
“Yeah, of course, a whole lotta embarrassing key bashing. What about it?”
His brother stared at him a moment, a little wide-eyed before grabbing his arm and directing him back inside the house. He led him over to the couch, palming the comms remote, and sat them both down. “You need to see this.”
Virgil realised what his brother was up to. “Aw, you gotta be kidding me, Scott.” He struggled to get off the couch, but Scott dragged him back down.
“No, you have to see this. Then maybe you’ll understand.” There was strain in Scott’s voice. Virgil relented.
The holoprojector lit up and Scott flicked between scenes. Virgil was chagrined to see himself in all of them, until it settled on the section his brother was looking for.
Holographic Virgil sat in front of his holographic piano and began to play.
It was no more than a warm up exercise at first, but then his holographic form frowned and…
Oh, god.
He felt just about every red blood cell in his body crawl into his face. His whole family had seen that? He had thought they were all worried because of the talk he and Gordon had had before the piano made its appearance. Not because of this…
He felt naked.
Kayo had said powerful and she had meant it. The passion coming off that keyboard was blatant and raw. When he had been playing, it had just been sound and rhythm. There was no composition, just the chords he felt he needed to play. He hadn’t really cared what it sounded like, he had just let it flow.
It hadn’t just flowed, it had flooded.
All over his family.
Oh, hell. No wonder Grandma had been crying. There would be a pile of apologies to be made when the sun came up.
He frowned. So that is where the split lip had come from.
-o-o-o-
Scott gritted his teeth as the piece played. It got into his bones and it still hurt as much as it had the first time, but at least his brother was sitting beside him this time and not an ocean away.
As the music came to an end, Scott flicked off the holoprojector, leaving the room to the silver of the moon once again.
His brother continued to stare at where the hologram had been. After a moment, in a quiet voice. “So do we need an exorcist?”
Scott stared at him. “What?”
“I didn’t realise it sounded that bad, sorry.”
“Bad? What the hell are you talking about, Virgil. You poured your heart into that piano. That music was full of anger and pain. You were crying. Hell, John was crying. Can you believe that? Mr Spock himself. You made the Vulcan cry, Virgil.”
His brother was horrified. “I-I’m sorry.”
Oh, goddamnit. That wasn’t it. He sat up straighter in the chair, turning himself more fully to his brother, desperate to get his point across. “No, no, no, Virgil. You don’t need to be sorry. It is us who should be sorry. We’re upset because you were hurting and we didn’t see.”
A frown. “I was just tired, Scott. It’s been a long week, that’s all.”
“You’re trying to tell me that all that emotion came from just this week?”
“Well, no, but I’m not in pain, Scott. It was just a build-up, a bit of artistic frustration.”
Scott’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding?”
“Well, okay, sure, I haven’t played in a while, and I was tired, and stressed and…yeah, okay, I guess I was hurting a bit. But it is nothing, Scott. I can manage it. It just got a little bit neglected.” Virgil wasn’t looking at him anymore. “Sorry, I scared everyone.”
He rubbed his hand through his hair. Now he understood why Gordon had had so much trouble. There seemed to be a glitch in communicating with his brother. Somehow what he wanted him to hear just wasn’t getting through.
Virgil seemed to realise his frustration, paused a moment thinking, then placed a hand on his arm. “C’mere, I want to show you something.” He stood up, gently pulling on him. Sighing, Scott, got up and let himself be led.
His brother dragged him over to the piano. “Now sit on the end of the stool. And listen.”
Virgil sat down in front of the piano and for just a moment, Scott steeled himself for another assault of pain. He realised what he was doing and forced himself to relax. He was being ridiculous. This was Virgil, he had heard him play hundreds of times, why should this time be any different?
Back straight, Virgil flexed his hands in preparation. “You heard me venting, Scott. A simple release of stress. Our job is stressful. You run. You punch that bag in the gym. This is how I let it out.” He hesitated. “It is part of the process. But it is not all that can be released, Scott. It is only one facet. Perhaps you’ll understand if I release another.” He mock glared at his brother. “No laughing allowed.”
Scott flung up his hands innocent defence. God, as if he would ever.
Another flex of his hands, a shift in his shoulders, and Virgil closed his eyes once more. He sat there for a second more, before reaching out to the keys. His fingers twitched and caught the ivory.
The music came out sweet, daisy Sundays, a jaunty tune, a hint of laughter. Scott couldn’t help but feel lifted. The contrast of this music to the piece from the day before was so stark it was as if it was by a completely different musician.
The tune shifted slightly, a more serious note floating in, it became faster, more sure, more powerful. A strong rhythm came into the lead. It spoke of strength, surety and the rest of the tune followed it behind. It led the pack, while a dancing note ran in circles around it. Then a deep bass rumble stepped in, re-enforcing the whole composition. It lifted and then it flew, notes scattering and swirling like snowflakes.
The music paused, a single run of keys keeping the rhythm true, before the daisy Sundays returned, the laughter, and not a small amount of love.
Virgil was smiling, his eyes still closed, his body twitching to the tempo, fully involved in creating his art.
Eventually the music slowed, the last of the jaunty tune, bouncing across the keys before several soft notes took over, bringing the piece to a quietly confident close.
Virgil lifted his fingers off the keys and rested them on his thighs, looking down a moment. Quietly. “It’s called Big Brother.”
Scott stared at Virgil, who was refusing to look in his direction, obviously embarrassed. He looked down at the keys and back at Virgil again. “Really?”
“Really.” His brother looked up but still didn’t look at him. Apparently, the bookcase was far more interesting.
“Wow.”
“I guess.”
“No, really, Virgil. Wow.” He grabbed the musician by his shoulders forcing him to turn towards him.
His brother’s eyes were pleading. “Do you get it now?” Under the embarrassment, there was a desperate need for understanding. The man had obviously risked exposing himself to try and communicate something important. “That was pre-written. I – I’ve had it for a while. Planned to give it to you on your birthday last year, but…”
Scott frowned. “But what?”
A shoulder half shrugged. “I didn’t.”
“Why?”
Another shrug. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that it is not all pain and misery. That piece…” He swallowed, looking like he was about to jump off a cliff. “That piece is you, Scott. That is what I think of when I think of you. All light, strength, power, big brother and yes, laughter. You’ve always been there, always…anyway, do you understand?”
Scott bit his lip. “I’m not sure.”
Virgil’s shoulders slumped. “I’m fine, Scott. There is nothing wrong with me. Can’t you see? It is just a different way of managing…things.”
“Hey, I never said there was anything wrong with you.” His lips twisted. “Though I have considered the possibility of mutant genes to explain the size of your shoulders. Look at those things, you sure you’re not using that exo-suit to disguise your super-human strength?”
Virgil thumped his arm.
“Ow, a demonstration was not needed.”
“Seriously, Scott. I am fine. You don’t need to worry about me. I promise, I’ll take a bit better care of myself. But there is nothing to worry about.”
“You’re sure?”
“Aaargh!” His fingers hit the piano and a tumultuous jumble of notes bounced out, a moment of chaos followed by the immediately recognisable theme to Jaws.
Scott jumped off the seat, hands up in self-defence. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
Iconic Twilight Zone notes.
Scott smirked.
Virgil glared. The tune morphed into Pharrell William’s ‘Happy’. ‘Because, I’m happy…’
“I get it already!” He grinned. “Going with the ancient oldies there, Virg.”
His brother rolled his eyes before turning back to the piano. The first notes of Grandma’s special composition appeared under his fingers.
Leaning back against his Dad’s desk, Scott was content to simply listen and watch his brother. No, he didn’t fully understand him, though he definitely appreciated him taking the time to try and explain himself – and that Big Brother music was definitely not going to gather dust in the back of his brother’s head. There was a recording planned in the future.
In fact, recording more of his music might give Virgil the motivation to play more often. Scott pondered. There were plenty of rooms in the villa, shouldn’t be hard to convert somewhere into a sound studio. He’d speak to Brains.
In the very early morning light, Virgil’s face was lit from within. Eyes once again closed, swaying to the music.
Turning towards the mezzanine above, Scott smiled at Gordon.
The music danced around the walls.
Gordon smiled too.
-o-o-o-
FIN.
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