#EDIT UPDATE: she was just late and also I almost cried at one point

[hiddenmoonbeam]

love waiting for a phone appointment and the clock ticks past the set time....... 15 min now.... is her day busy and delayed, will she call in a sec or in half an hour instead? is she for some reason not calling at all but I didn’t get notified? has she forgotten? no idea and there's no way for me to call so I just have to wait.....

[whatgaviiformes]

The Personal Trash

Okay, I needed the catharsis of writing this out, but I am throwing it under a read more because I honestly don’t expect anyone to read this. Family shit below

I feel like before I start I have to say first I love my husband very much and am continually excited by the life we are and have been building together, and the only goddamn constant in these circumstances is that he is my best friend always. 

The second part of this before I jump in is that his mother, my mother-in-law lives with us, and there are parts of this story I can’t tell because it’s her story and I am not that kind of person.  One of the things I love about him is his loyalty to family. I am the same way. Living with elders does not make me bat an eyelid - they’ve taken care of us, it feels comforting that we can take care of them.

But I need to share the context of our home - it’s a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom townhouse with the three of us, three dogs, with almost every space shared. One kitchen, one living room. It’s a small place. My husband purchased the house in September 2014, and it was around when we started dating. One of our first outings was his housewarming. It was, and still is, a starter home. 

So since he’s had the home, I’ve been around - starting with a weekends, back and forth, and finally a moved in in 2017, married in 2019, and now we are here. Four years later. 

We’ve talked upsizing, getting an in law place if we can. But the housing market is a sellers market at the moment, and things have been good. For four years. 

For four years, the family unit has been the three of us. We’ve all contributed in different ways, and in that time, MIL has retired, husband has switched jobs a few times, and mine has been constant. And I *adore* my job. But it keeps me incredibly busy, overwhelmed often. Work-life balance is a bit of a joke for sure. Like anywhere there are days that I’ve gotten off work and cried. Or, checked out mentally that I couldn’t engage in other things. It’s can be intense, but its rewarding. And there was a period through the past few years where I was the source of income keeping our heads above water. And we were - we were fine.  But it put a lot of stress on me.

In the meantime there have been some health issues - which I will gloss over. Not my story. But MIL has had few different things, on top of us worrying about COVID. We’ve taken her to some different appointments and such.  

We had one such scare two weekends ago, and it kind was a catalyst to a bunch of other stuff that I’ve been dealing with behind the scenes lately. So on Sunday, husband and I went to the grocery store (she was supposed to go on a trip for four days or so) so we were going to use the opportunity to cook a few things together, and we needed to replenish. We were about to grab lunch, and called to see if she wanted anything, and she told him then she wanted to be taken to the hospital. She told us a few days earlier she was having some problems, but only mentioned to my husband that she was worried this might happen. But to me this forewarning was not mentioned, and I was only told because he advised her that she needed to be upfront of what was going on. (For the record, she still was vague). 

This ^ will be a theme.

So we skipped lunch, came back home, I unloaded the food and started putting stuff away because he and I agreed that’s what we do and I told him to keep me updated, and she left without saying anything to me or vice versa.  Husband comes home because COVID means you can’t stay with anyone. Also no beds, so it took awhile (F*CKING GET VACCINATED PEOPLE SO PEOPLE WHO DO EVERYTHING RIGHT AREN’T LAID UP FOR YOUR STUPIDITY  -alsoyesiknowthereareotherreasonspeopleareinthehospitalforcovidjustgivemethisimfrustrated)

11:30 PM that night we picked her back up. It was late, I was tired.  A few days later she tells us that she had a lot of time to think while at the hospital, and tells us she is going to move out. 

First - you know what we did while she was in the hospital? We freaking worried.  Okay - so all of that is facts, details, and I’ve gotten you caught up to the this-happened-then-this-happened. The rest of this is feelings so buckle the fuck up

Husband  - immediately lashes out because he doesn’t like the reasons (still doesn’t) and I find out that there was a conversation the day before between the two of them I wasn’t a part of  - and he felt because she was not being honest with me, he was forced to have to lie to me, his wife, and didn’t like that feeling. 

Me -  feeling confused, a little like this is out of left field, and only not completely surprised because this has happened before with husband telling me, and then it never happening, we misunderstanding. and more times than not it never made it from her mouth to my ears. Also it was never for *this* reason. See how this escalates more  below.

Husband- “I had to learn to live with strangers, and you just can’t stand not being in control” Me -  so wait I am a stranger now?

Husband - do you even like my wife...

and so on. So apparently everything I thought I knew about our home changed in the course of this conversation. What I was able to get out of the cacophony of chaos is that I am insensitive because I don’t interact with her the way she expects me to? And she feels like she’s intruding all the time, despite us assuring her she’s not, inviting her to game nights, and in general sharing in the things that you do as a family like vacations and dinners.  And the more we argued, the more little things came out and little clues.  She’s mentioned leaving before, almost on a 6 month cycle, and the last time was this one -  

So like... when we got Della, and three days in she was like “If they don’t get along I’m going to take Dino and my own place” and so   like... hold up, you can’t just throw away a comment like that. They’ve barely gotten a chance to know each other. (they are fine by the way. Della is a puppy and gets in his face a bit, but she’s still learning. They play, sleep together fine, and we are constantly taking care of the fur kids).

And from what I get from the comments to leave  - because shit there’s still so many pieces to this I feel like I am missing -she will rationalize other reasons like the dog example above.

So when this happens it sends my husband in a spiral, he tells me because she won’t say anything, and the one time we did try to have a conversation about it, she shut down and made it sounds like he misunderstood and made him out to be the asshole. Then in the same breath tell him its not his job to fix everything as a stab at me, but like continue to talk only to him when it involves everyone.

I don’t know if that makes sense. A lot happens without me involved.

So then  - those clues - the hints that all of this is really about me: 

health - i stopped asking because she stopped telling me things, so how am I supposed to know what she can and can’t do. but im at fault for like... not asking.  but she’s not telling.

home - apparently my understanding and my husbands understanding about the stuff she does around the house  - some cleaning, groceries (we pay for) and loading dishwasher, cooking sometimes,. We thought she liked doing them to help around the house, and she’s never told us differently. EDIT- no, she’s told us she likes to help. Cue - you can stop right there, I am an adult and I never asked you to clean up after me.  

I feel like whatever feelings she has for me started a long time ago, and  she continued to let them harbor instead of talking to me about it, until it got to the point where it couldn’t really be solved.

I mean, I am not lacking the self-awareness to recognize that, yeah, I can be messy, and yeah, I can be single minded. There are days where my husband is talking me and I just space answering him because I can’t or or I just mentally lose it in processing.

I am seeing this mirror reflected back at me of like - I have all these expectations for you, and you are a problem and, but like.... it kind of goes both ways? And I feel like you’ve made these circumstances yourself? And if  you want to leave that’s fine, but its not from our doing? 

And so in the end *I* feel like I am the one under scrutiny for everything I do or say and how I interact in my home. And it feels like selfishness, and self-victimizing behavior that I’ve seen time and time again, and I don’t really see a way out. 

So husband just wants to keep the family together, he’s taking this to heart - its his mom, and there are feelings there about how they’ve provided for each other. He would feel differently if they got the house and she moved in with him under the notion that she was going to save, get her own place. But it wasn’t, and so he has this weight on his shoulders for it, for failing in some way.

And I  - well. I didn’t really realize the family unit we had wasn’t working... at least to that extent and that it stemmed from me and I’m really hurt by it. Aside from the stuff above, I am really easy going - I try to give everyone space, and make everyone happy. I shut down if I am processing something. I’ve never intentionally tried to make her feel unwelcome. I’ve invited her to my family vacations, we’ve all equally enjoyed dinner’s out. 

And though I’d be willing to try to do better, i am absolutely livid that this conversation waited until it was at its worst. So now I don’t really want to try to do better because I am mad and hurt, and don’t feel like my sacrifices or contributions are being acknowledged, nor do I think she will do the same thing to be self-reflective and recognize her own part of all this. And above all things, I truly hate to be misunderstood. And I will completely shut down under that kind of self-victimizing behavior and thoughtlessness to other people. I don’t want to lose myself over this, in my own home.

So neither path is really an easy or right solution. She moves out, husband loses a bit of respect in her and the relationship they have.. She stays, recognizing your own part in lack of communication is a long term thing, and I have to feel this awkward limbo for that whole process.. if it  even gets there.

I feel like I am walking on eggshells constantly. 

I should never have to question if a “Hello” will be taken the right way and that’s how i fucking feel. 

[pinestripes]

you must lift your head (The Dark Crystal: AoR)

Summary:

Ordon had thought it was the end.

As he had been dragged down into the pit, trapped in the painful grip of skekMal the Hunter, he had shouted the best advice he had at his son. It was the culmination of everything he could have ever hoped to have taught him—could ever hope for him.

“Be brave.”

If this was it, he needed Rian to know.

No sooner have the words come out of his mouth, however, when something unexpected occurs.

Rating: General Audiences for canon-typical violence and maybe a single curse word at some point.

Can also be read here on AO3 and here on FFN.

Author’s Note:

self-indulgent /sɛlf ɪndʌldʒənt/. adj. 1: This.

Another entry in my ongoing quest to resurrect all of the poor parental figures who got offed in order to create great orphan protagonists.

This will be updated once a week, on Monday nights. All of the chapters are already drafted—they just need to be edited (the second half more than the first half). I do start my fall semester in mid-August, so I might have to reevaluate that schedule at some point, but that's the plan for now.

The fic title and chapter titles are lines from the song "Father to Son," by Phil Collins.

Thank you as always to my sister for being an amazing editor.

Chapter One:  

cause all the things you thought were safe, now they're gone

Ordon had thought it was the end.

As he had been dragged down into the pit, trapped in the painful grip of skekMal the Hunter, he had shouted the best advice he had at his son. It was the culmination of everything he could have ever hoped to have taught him—could ever hope for him.

“Be brave.”  

If this was it, he needed Rian to know.

No sooner have the words come out of his mouth, however, when something unexpected occurs: a gelfling girl flies over the pit, stretches her hands out toward him, and shouts for him to grab on.

His moment of hesitation is almost too long—it is almost too late—but he manages to lock arms with the girl, and between her fluttering her wings with all her strength and him kicking skekMal several times as hard as he can, the Hunter loosens his grip. Suddenly pulling against no resistance, the two gelfling go flying, barely clearing the edge of the pit and rolling to a painful stop.

Ordon scrambles upright. Rian is grabbing his arm, simultaneously trying to reach out and help the girl up, frantically asking if they are alright. Ordon absently responds that he is fine, focused on watching the Hunter sink under, the skeksis bellowing in rage and fighting anew to be free. They make eye contact one final time, and then the Hunter is gone.

The Captain of the Guard finally directs his attention back on his son, who is staring at him in shock. They both begin to laugh, the terror and adrenaline releasing in hysteria. They embrace tightly, still laughing, half-formed and mostly-nonsensical affirmations of pride and affection spilling out.

They finally let go of each other, and, still chuckling, Ordon turns to face his savior. She is a Grottan, if he isn’t mistaken, and she is wiping at tears that have accumulated in her eyes as she too giggles wetly. A podling pats her shoulder and babbles in excitement.

“It seems I owe you my life. Thank you, my lady.” Ordon says, bowing his head in gratitude and respect.

Wiping at her eyes one last time with her sleeve, the girl calms and responds with a gentle smile, “You’re welcome. You must be Rian’s father.”

Ordon quirks a brow, and glances at his smiling son. “I am. Do you two know each other?”

“Oh, yes!” The girl clasps her hands together and smiles brilliantly. “I’m Deet! Rian and I met at Stone-in-the-Wood.”

Rian rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I sort of cut in front of her to see Maudra Fara. We ran into each other again afterward.” The young gelfling smiles then. “Luckily for me, she doesn’t seem to be the type to hold a grudge.”  

“I see.” Ordon can see his son’s blush. He looks over to Deet to see her giving Rian a fond smile. That’s all, hm? He continues, “Well, then. Thank you, Deet. Without you, I would be Gobbler feed right now.”

Rian snorts without humor. “Just like—”

A squelching sound, rustling, and a whoosh of air, and Rian’s voice cuts off.

Turning his head, Ordon just manages to catch the wide-eyed look on his son’s face as he is yanked into the air and away by the still-living Hunter. But then the skeksis is bounding through the trees, Rian’s terrified yells already fading, almost out of sight before Ordon can even scramble to his feet.

“Rian!” His shout drowns out Deet’s own cry of alarm. He runs desperately for the woods, sprinting with all his might.

Not watching where he is putting his feet on the forest floor, he trips and lands painfully on his hands and knees. Terror threatens to choke him as he realizes he can barely hear his son’s cries, and with another half-moment they fade completely.

He slams his fists into the ground in rage. “No!” he roars, the word tearing at his throat.

Ordon knows the Hunter. Many do not know of the Hunter’s existence, or think he is a myth, but Ordon had heard of him from the previous Captain of the Guard and had seen the skeksis in action once before. He knows with absolute certainty—the Hunter is too fast. Too skilled at hiding his own tracks. The skeksis is gone.

Ordon’s son is gone.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Weeping Statue | Feeding Habits Update #6 & let’s chat about quitting writing

Hello! Are we back for another Feeding Habits update (finally)?? Let’s chat chapter 7, Weeping Statue.

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Can we talk about struggle? Because this chapter was IT. I believe I started it in late July and finished it earlier this month. I’ve taken my time with chapters before, but this was next level--the amounts of changes I went through in one chapter was astronomical, and reminded me of drafting chapter three earlier in the summer. I went through so many stages writing this chapter: from enjoying it, to feeling no joy from writing at all, to nearly quitting this book altogether!

Scene A:

Harrison and his mother Suzanna simultaneously avoid each other over breakfast after he failed to return home the night previous

She lowkey calls him out (calling out his denial of missing Lonan)

Scene B:

Harrison goes to a farmhouse owned by Theodore Harvey, a friend of his mother’s, to drop off the rescued litter of kittens from chapter 6. He realizes he is missing one kitten and concludes Reeve has stolen one after dinner the night previous.

Scene C:

Harvey invites Harrison inside for coffee where he admits his coffee machine is broken.

Harrison fixes the coffee machine, and is hired by Harvey to flip the rest of the farmhouse as he and his wife are moving.

Scene D:

On his way home, Harrison stops at a gas station where he buys a bouquet of tulips for his mother, a dog collar for the puppy he found in the kitten litter, a pack of gum, pastries, and sunscreen before heading to a beach.

At the onset of a lightning storm, Harrison swims in the ocean and has an epiphany--he decides to accept his miserable life (a development!)

Scene E:

After the beach ordeal, Harrison returns to his apartment ready to accept the plainness of his daily life when an old ghost from his past (his! ex!) Lonan appears to be having dinner with Suzanna

This chapter brought so many things. A) many... breakdowns lol (I cried a lot!), B) many false epiphanies that wound me back into ruts, C) a desire to quit this series that was just as terrifying as it sounds and D) an ideology I never would’ve gotten on my own. Just have to thank my sister Sarah for telling me a few weeks ago after I insisted that I knew what needed to logically happen but couldn’t write it no matter how hard I tried. She said: “It’s not about what works, it’s about what you want” << literally changed my philosophy on writing, even as someone who tries their best to advocate for care and enjoyment in writing. Not sure if it’s because of the timing when she said this, but I’d probably never had made it out of the rut without having this said to me.

I was *not* planning at all to have my boys reunite so soon in the book. Technically, it is not very soon and we are almost done the book, but for some reason, I really didn’t think it would work so early because I felt Harrison’s POV was so undeveloped already (I still think it is). HOWEVER, the fact of the matter is: it was not working at all. I knew exactly what I needed to do to get to point A to Z but the thing about writing is, it is not formulaic! I tried to make fit what I thought worked, but as time progressed and I immensely struggled, less and less did I want what worked. Writing was miserable and that’s not what I want writing to be for me. So I took Sarah’s advice, and I did what would make me happy, and that was, and has always been, seeing my boys interact.

Now that I’ve finished this chapter, I’m not sure if I made the right decision! I have yet to write the boys interacting so I don’t know if it will work, but what I liked about this method is that it freed me from this constriction I’d written myself into and opened a new avenue to do something that DOESN’T “work” for the story but that does work for me. To me, this project, this series, is more important to me than making something “work”. Sustaining my health and happiness (which were declining on the path I was on) is critical for me and my writing journey.

EDIT: by the time I’m editing this post, I have written the boys interacting and haha yep this was the right decision! Was doubting myself for a sec, added in a lil robbery, and now it’s all good (oops)

Excerpts:

I don’t have too many for you because this chapter does need an edit to “set” it in place (right now it feels like liquid Jello that has been in the fridge but is yet to set up). I know it needs one more scene but I cannot :) write :) what :) it :) needs :) no matter how hard I have tried, and so I am giving that section of the story a break instead of over-kneading it and toughening up the dough unnecessarily.

Here is part of the opening scene! There are things I don’t like about this but I am trying not to self-hate, so !!!

The next morning, Harrison gets up at dawn to drop the kittens off at the farm, and Suzanna makes coffee for one. This is unusual for both—Harrison rarely leaves the apartment, and Suzanna always makes coffee for two. In his room, Harrison combs his hair and twists his earring, its blue gem pearling in dribbles of sunlight. In the kitchen, Suzanna stirs coffee like it’s wronged her. Harrison dabs cologne onto his throat and blinks off his hangover. Suzanna flecks her spoon onto the tabletop so it leaves an egg of amber on the surface.

When he approaches the kitchen, Harrison pretends he does not see his mother and his mother pretends she does not see him. They move like this, repelled, one moving left, the other moving right, one opening the top cupboard, the other opening the bottom.

Harrison stops at a convenience store and buys a hodge-podge of things (also the beach scene which yes mirrors the last scene in Lonan’s POV hehe I indulge myself):

He picks up the best bouquet of fuchsia tulips, a collar for the dog he left in his bedroom even though it’ll be weeks until she’s big enough to fit in it, a pack of spearmint gum he doesn’t need, a package of pastries, and a tube of sunscreen—SPF 30. He almost drops every item at least once on his way up to the register, and definitely drops them when his receipt is spitting from the machine and the store clerk says she likes his earring—is it vintage—and he nearly vomits in the parking lot, trained against the hood of the taxi—is it even his taxi—the plastic bag teetering from his wrist, rain coiling against his cheek, the air so humid, his clothes so heavy, it is no wonder the next place he ends up is the beach.

It is never smart to swim during a storm. If he thinks hard enough, his mother’s voice warns him to keep from the shore, stand behind the yellow line, stay safe, stay where you are, don’t run under a tree, and even more, don’t run into the water. He does everything wrong in an even worse order—dollops sunscreen into his palm before opening the pastry so his teeth freckles with zinc, chews the gum and the pastry at the same time so his tongue becomes a slime of crumbs, rests the tulips too close to the shoreline so they wilt under a wave, misplaces the dog collar in his own left hand, and dives into the water fully-clothed.

Harrison getting very angsty about Lonan’s future (which he’s predicted completely wrong haha):

He will die alone. Reeve will not think of him again and he will deserve that. Somewhere in the city with the missing kitten, drinking bottles of holy water because there is no drink more fitting for a woman so sacred. His mother will miss him only briefly, and then return to her daily life of no longer needing to clean up after him. Maybe she’ll find the tulips. Put them on display until they wither, then use their carcasses as fertilizer. Save electricity. Use the coffee machine less. Downsize to a smaller, cheaper, prettier apartment with arched walkways and stained-glass windows. Harvey will think he is a fluke who missed his first day of work and will never think of him again. The dog isn’t old enough to recognize him. Suzanna will give her the collar. And Lonan will continue his life in Las Vegas, tottering after Eliza, refilling her wine, getting neon at house parties, watching French silent films without captions because he’s probably learned another language, cut his hair, gotten a tattoo, learned how to cross-stitch, bought life insurance, a yacht, a coastal summer home, learned how to play the mandolin, perfected his lamb sous vide. He’s probably married. Him and Eliza family-planning. He’ll expand a future, and Harrison will do the opposite. There is something freeing in being unmissed.

Lightning snaps across the sky like a wishbone, sounds like the prick of tambourines from under the water. Everything turns violet—the clouds, his skin, the waves. Tomorrow will be a better day, as he sinks lower into the current, tomorrow will be a better day, as the light fades and dissolves into blackness, tomorrow will be a better day, as seaweed wraps his throat, as the freezing water impales his ribs, as he burrows under and simultaneously, rises up.

This next part comes right after!

In the stomach of a tidal wave, the sky is so much bluer. An unrolling of cyan like fractals of a baked marble. There is so little to remember. No grocery lists, no fresh turmeric, no shift of portabella mushrooms. No outstanding to-dos—no kibble to by, no resume to update. Harrison folds in blue and lets it gorge his eardrums. He gives his body to that wide chasm of water and breaststrokes not into a second life, but a third.

Here is the last bit:

He buzzes back into the apartment at 3:00AM, tracking in saltwater and SPF, puff-pastry gummed to his palm, a dog collar wound around his ring finger, a sheath of tulips shedding into the elevator behind him.

He hits every floor button twice and is undisturbed when the elevator lurches and reopens in sixty-second intervals. A man rotating a jade cuff on his wrist gets on at the fourth stop and gets off at the sixth. A woman wearing a lynx cape gets on at the eighth stop, breaks up with two girlfriends, and gets off at the eleventh. Two children in coveralls tail in after she leaves and throw jacks at each other’s eyes until one of them bleeds, and by then, they are on the fifteenth floor and the children are leaving like they have not left behind accidental shell casings. On the sixteenth floor, a deer head chihuahua patters in with no owner and barks at the door chime the moment it releases and lets him out. A mother and daughter shell pistachios on the twentieth, a maintenance man introduces himself as David though his nametag says Maxwell on the twenty-second, a flock of teenage girls in whirl about a new way to blend oil pastel on the twenty-third. So it is no wonder by the twenty-fifth floor, Harrison misses his stop and becomes one of these people too—the man with zinc down his eyes like a weeping statue, juggling pastry and a dog collar and a seedy bouquet of tulips.

He tracks seawater in that hallway, parts of him scattering with the zinc, the petals, the crumbs. Like a way to get back home even though he hasn’t started at his destination, he moves through the labyrinth of halls, both starving and nauseated. Tomorrow he will rise at dawn and taxi to Brooklyn and hammer four nails into two pieces of plywood and repeat. He will feed his dog. Learn how to cook something that will impress his mother, something French that he can’t pronounce like brasillé or oeufs cocotte. Find liberation in the constrict of routine or at least pretend to. It will be good for him, the rising, the taxis, the hammers, the nails, the dog food, the cooking—it will all be good.

By the time he gets to their door, his fingers are oiled and dripping with sunscreen. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. He nearly drops the house keys. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. Tomorrow will be his arrival. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. His beginning swelling as he turns the lock. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. There is no other way out.

The apartment is dark when he tracks in. The scent of cinnamon steeping the air like Suzanna’s pulled a saucepan of papas off the stove. At first he doesn’t hear it, but he should, the voices leafing the kitchen like a flit of moths. He steps out of his shoes but never sets anything down, even after he passes the coffee table. Two plates ringing the centre, streaked with and caldeirada and bayleaf. A pitcher of lemonade sweating onto the glass. It is almost like he never left, like he and his mother shared dinner, sipped from each other’s cups, cleaned the tines of each other’s fishbones. And he almost believes it. He never went to the farm. The kittens are where he left them, just a few feet away, not in Brooklyn. He doesn’t have a job to tend to. He never fixed the coffee machine. He didn’t go to the convenience store. He is not slathered in sunscreen, not holding a dog collar or pastries or a bouquet of tulips. He never dove into the ocean like it was some port to asylum and didn’t emerge soaked and walking half-dead to his apartment because he never left. This reality is so easy to believe, he is unfazed by the voices and how they get louder when he reaches the kitchen, when one says “Were you shopping for the apocalypse?” and the other one chokes on its drink and apologizes for its rudeness and stares at him in daydream, those eyes like forget-me-nots, gas fires, seafoam, the wing of a starling, his drop earring.

Harrison is grateful he is soaking wet when he enters that kitchen and Suzanna and Lonan sit at the table sharing a box of petit fours. At least he has an excuse when he drops everything.

That’s it for this update! The tea starts HERE!

--Rachel

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Ep33 S4 pt 1: Deus Ex US Military

Been a little distracted but was reminded--yo--I gotta finish S4 of Yugioh this year. I think I can do it. There’s like...what...two episodes left? Three? Like I don’t want to tempt 2020, but like...I think I can finish this thing.

That and a bunch of my Photoshop files corrupted, I don’t know why, I’m very scared for my hard drive, and I need to do a big ol defrag and hope that’s enough. Really hoping this is my bad and not my computer’s bad. I’m pretty hard on this computer when I paint digitally.

and I was immediately gifted by the anime gods because yo, it’s my favorite storyboarder! They're back to carry me through my election burn out, every episode they touch has so much style and no matter how freakin weird or confusing the plot is, this storyboarder/animation team doesn’t seem to care. They will this kids show about cards with this attention to detail. They just have a lot of enthusiasm and that’s a thing about anime that I really like to see. No matter how weird it is, you gotta go 150% without any shame. Love it. Love to see em back.

First off, that earthquake from last episode?

Just a little bigger of an earthquake than I originally thought, coincidentally, this is when Roland shows up, only to realize that he’s like...10 minutes to late.

Well, maybe a little longer than 10 minutes when you consider that Mai freakin died and Yugi almost died, and Joey is absolutely dead and being carried across Tristan’s back.

Anyway, Roland just walked into a whole lot and is just trying to process his life. Roland is all of us in October/November of 2020.

If Roland only knew how many times Seto and Mokuba have totally biffed it when he wasn’t looking.

Like for reals...how is Roland still alive? Like...I don’t think the guy has ever died. Not even once. Maybe that’s Roland’s superpower as the secret FourthKaiba, by just being the only one to stay very far away from the constant BS strewn at this family.

Roland is just...too inept to die. He’s always too far away, he comes after the big bad has already murdered a few people, he’s just...too bad at his job to ever be a target. Live long, Roland. The Kaiba who was the smartest of all by actually being the dumbest.

Also, look at him parking far enough away on the actual helicopter landing pad. He is the only ‘Kaiba’ that follows the law. This could also be the other reason for his secret to longevity.

(read more under the cut)

Faced with a stairwell between their freedom and this weird earthquake chasm that just opened on the top story of this building, Yami decides it’s his job to carry...................

...................Raphael.

(Never forget that we know the exactly weight of Yugi Muto.)

And like Yami is weirdly strong because of magic powers but like...maybe Yami should take Joey and then Tristan should pick up Raphael? I’d say Tea could also pick up Raphael, but I feel like she just wouldn’t want to.

TBQH maybe the reason that Yami is carrying Raphael is because literally no one else feels like it? Like no one likes this guy?

Just kinda feels like Yami is holding onto Raphael out of a sunk-cost fallacy. He’s already done so much work to this guy, can’t lose him now. Gotta save Raphael to make up for killing Gurimo, Weevil, and Yugi. Can’t fail a fourth time.

Anyway, you know what else this storyboarder is good at?

How did they even get reference for drawing this? They didn’t, right? They’re just so good at art that they were like “I can draw ANY person in ANY outfit straight up the crotch, I dare you.”

Seto decides to...not help out, much like virtually all of Yami’s other friends, who also just kinda...yelled and cried at this situation instead of...helping.

Which is fine, because the stairwell gave out and then Raphael decided to uhhhh throw this directly at me.

Just one more yeet for the road. Youknow this guy has yeeted the Pharaoh not once but twice in one season, and both times he just chucked him like he was made out of foam core. (Also, please admire the millennium puzzle in this shot going out at like a 90 degree angle. Just...A+, this storyboarder is hilarious)

At first, I really thought Yami was dabbing his way over that ledge.

In a moody shot with his hair and his jacket swaying in the breeze, almost designed for you to lift and stick into your Youtube AMVs, Seto looked onward and seemed...kind of bored because no one’s throwing any cards. And like who can blame him, he has been on the top of so many ledges and so many buildings that he’s seen Yami make this same speech of “DON’T DO THIS DAMN LEDGE THING I SWEAR TO GODS” like...so many times.

He just immediately accepts Yugi died and is like “Well I guess that makes me king of games.”

And Raphael, after like several minutes of begging Yami to just let him die, decides to let go of that ledge on his own, because this is Yugioh, and you gotta fit in that suicide within the first 10 minutes of the episode. Which, PS, is not the weirdest thing that happened this episode.

And because Roland is freakin late to everything, he showed he could have done this the entire time. Honestly I think Roland just didn’t want to deal with Raphael. We can blame this on Roland, right?

PS we never see this building again in this episode.

I don’t know........why they bothered showing this. If anything it makes the next plot twist more weird because it’s like...what was the point of the random ass earthquake and the random ass concept art building if we, in fact, aren’t coming back here???

I mean I guess it’s a nice shot for your Artstation portfolio, good on you, Yugioh background artist.

Unfortunately this chip contains Seto Kaiba’s greatest weakness. (SanDisk card? Jump drive? Which PS--if they had jump drives this whole time, why was Seto using floppies earlier in the season? Like what happened there?)

And then, with the hatch of their helicopter just wide open, no one in a seat belt, and walking away from the destruction of one of the largest buildings in San Fransisco, finally the cops showed up. Real cops this time, not possessed cops. Also, it’s the Marines.

Am I going to get my Monty Python ending? I mean...if cops can recognize these kids in this universe...I might get my Monty Python ending. :) :) :)

For some reason, back on the mean streets of San Fransisco with no people left alive in it, Rebecca just kinda started losing her mind. Maybe this was to make up for the 2 seasons I had to watch Duke Devlin flirt with a 12 yo? That now we have to suffer Duke saddled with this small crazy person?

This small crazy person who is painted as this intolerable person next to Duke Devlin, but is also a love interest for the main character? Like Yugi’s into some weird ass angry girls.

PS the orcs were no longer needed for the plot so they have turned into streams of light in order to join with the Leviathan mass. So now Rebecca and Duke Devlin will just have literally nothing to do for the rest of the season. I guess they can go to Ghiradelli square...someone’s gotta eat that ice cream before it melts.

Also this happened.

In case you were like “Wow Rach, you didn’t update the Death Count, how dare you”--it’s because I uh...completely forgot that the Oricalchos crew is immune to fall damage. Raphael’s just fine now. He fell down 50 stories...and then 50 stories fell on him...but don’t think about it.

Meanwhile, on the back of some aircraft carrier, far into international waters, the kids get recruited into the military of a foreign country and it’s just as weird as you think it is.

Hey guys.

So, Bandit Keith was weirdly in Hell this season for no reason, right? What if he died offscreen because, earlier in the season, the US military threw him at Dartz because they couldn’t get a hold of Yugi or Kaiba? What about that headcanon? What if that’s why his angry ghost wanted revenge?

Anyway, they join the ranks of Shadow T. Hedgehog, which makes sense because...these guys look like human OC’s of Shadow the hedgehog already.

Sorry I just had a moment because Shadow uses guns a lot despite not needing them at all so “people won’t get uncomfortable with how powerful he is” while in Yugioh they can’t even...show a gun. That really is...you ever think about how weird that is? That Shadow the Hedgehog, a strange remix of a 90′s sega mascot, has a million giant guns but Kaiba’s actual gun (which, apparently he does have in the Japanese version of this show) got edited out completely?

Sometimes it just dawns on me and I have a moment.

Now the US Military just hand delivering them to Dartz is so wild because their reason for the USA not doing anything on their own with their fleets and fleets of ships is:

Have you MET the US? I live here, and if we were like given the choice to shoot the ocean...or just die...we’d be like “wait...for reals? So no one gets hurt, we just shoot guns at the water? You mean we finally found our true calling? For REALS? I just shoot this water bucket!??? FOR REALS????” and it would become a national holiday. All pop songs would be devoted to it. Our ancestors would make movies about it.

I mean, our dumbass president considered nuking a hurricane in 2019...in case you forgot because damn, it’s been a STUPID 4 YEARS. (And you better have voted already because for reals do not make me go through 4 more years of this. I do not think this blog would survive it...or the hurricanes that will keep getting nuked.)

Also....the show actually threw the word “proof” out there. Seriously show? You OK?

I figured the mind control situation would be a better reason not to arrest Dartz other than “Dartz is just so good at covering up his tracks” when the TRACKS have a broken down Caltrain on one side of them, and the other side of the tracks have the rest of that same Caltrain at the bottom of a river.

Seto is not amused but he never is. He will take this Nobel Peace Prize and step up to the microphone at the UN and be like “I WANTED IT TO BE A CARDS PRIZE.”

PS--we HAVE a map already, right? Raphael died to give us this map--and then didn’t die, but it’s not like anyone else here knows that. So like...why did we need the US Military to show up at all? Why is this scene important? Other than to look cool, I guess? Like...

...why is the US military here we already have a Deus Ex Machina delivered by Raphael? At least that one was deserved--the whole point of that duel was to get this MAP.

A map that we are never going to use.

...There’s a good chance that two writers wrote this episode in two different buildings and just...glued the two halves together. Animation is wild. Weird ‘Cinema sins’ things like this happen...all the time. This one though, this one is kind of funny because it’s a ton of wasted effort on the very best storyboarder.

Anyway I broke this up into two segments because I’m tired, and also, while a lot of people like long posts, the smaller posts are kinda easier to read. More will be upcoming in like...I dunno it really depends on a lot of things right, now, I’ve been having a time, but at least Yugioh is always there to enjoy. Maybe I’ll need so much distraction you’ll get an update tomorrow? Good things can happen, and it’s not like I get to do anything else for Halloween.

Happy Halloween Y’all! Lets make the most of it!

(here’s a link to read these in chrono order)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[anime-lover-forever-1127]

A Woman With Vision {Arthur Leywin} - 20. Beast Glades

Beast Glades

*****

Disclaimer - (Cause fanfiction is tricky ground and I hope not to offend the creator of the original story and get sued)

I do not own "The Beginning After The End", it belongs to its original creator TurtleMe. This is only a fanfiction that I was inspired to write by the original work. Please support the official release. Most of the media - such as the art and illustrations, gifs, video's, etc. used in this fanfiction - are from the web. Thus, most of them aren't mine (because I really, really can't draw) unless mentioned. To fit the story, images are also edited by various apps and websites. So they aren't mine, just edited. I get much of the text, especially the fight scenes and thought, aside from my oc's, from the original novel, which can be found on Library Novel. Please support the official release.

Also if you own a picture or Video that I found online, and you either want your name added, or me to take it down. Please contact me and we can talk it out. P.s. I also ask that you do not copy my work and publish it onto any other website.

If you're gonna use my idea, please ask me (If you ask nicely, I for sure, will agree). If I don't contact you within a week, then just assume I'm giving you the all clear and go for it. Just remember to credit me.

I will be writing out scenes even if my Oc isn't in them. As long as she's mentioned, or influencing the characters in some way. This may seem a bit annoying. But that's just how I write. I like to embed my characters into the story line. Because of this, most of the dialogue/scenes will come from the original work.

Playlist

For the playlist you can go to my YouTube channel, which is under "Anime-lover-forever-1127" and click on the playlist titled "A Woman With Vision {Arthur Laywin}". Or you can use this link watch?v=GYlAaNM7WS8&list=PLVKYkztH1Zd8bdl2_a1C8F6u8gPPwfa6D&ab_channel=7clouds 

Warnings: Spoilers for Chapter 30 and chapter 54 of the comic

*****

Today's Special

No one tells you that the hardest part of MOTHERHOOD is when your kids grow up

~ sitiraihana

*****

{Morgana P.O.V.}

Crossing through the teleportation gate, my senses jolted from the scenery. The City of Xyrus had the most teleportation gates among the cities since they were the only way one could enter it, it being a floating city and all. The one we crossed led us directly to the front entrance of the area known as the Beast Glades.

The chirps of birds, occasional cries and roars of beasts, and the constant sound of water flowing filling the background all created an enticing symphony of nature. The sight of tall trees and numerous hills covered in various plants and shrubs made it hard to believe that this beautiful landscape was filled with magical beasts capable of killing even the strongest mages. However, because of abundances of natural resources on the outskirts, it was mostly only the lower rank beasts that inhabited this deeper an adventurer traversed, the more mysterious and treacherous the landscape turned, filled with the lairs of powerful beasts that have amassed their treasures and power in the solitude's of unexplored regions in the Beast Glades.

I took a sip of the crisp air as Jasmine and Arthur arrived behind me through the teleportation gate when, suddenly, I heard a wish, and from the corner of my eyes I saw Sylvie scurry off.

"Wait, Sylv! Where are you going?" Arthur called after her, dumbfounded.

Sylvie transmitted a vague response; I could feel her emotions of excitement as she sent out thoughts about her plans to train as well.

"Did she just?" I asked, pointing at the direction my baby just ran off to.

"Yep, she just ran away from home." He answered weekly, his tone going a little high.

"Oh, Arthur." I sighed, pulling him close and giving him a shoulder hug. I had only known Sylvie for a couple of months, and I felt as if something was missing without her here.

But she was Arthur's bond, and had never left him since the day she had hatched. I could only imagine how big the hole in his heart must feel.

"Are you gonna be ok?" I asked. "We could take a break."

Arthur shook his head, "We just got here. Plus, I'm only a little…" He struggled, unsure of what world to use, "...uneasy. But… I can sense her whereabouts. So it should be fine."

"You can sense her whereabouts?" I asked, surprised.

He nodded, "Wait! You can't?"

I shook my head.

"Close your eyes, and try searching for her aura."

I did what he had said. I could see the mana floating around me, but no Sylvie. I opened my eyes, "Nothing. No trace of her. Maybe we're not just there yet."

Sylvie had explained to me that the longer me and Arthur were with each other, the stronger our mate bond would become. And the stronger it becomes, the easier it would be for me to create an adopted bond with Sylvie. Of course that would only be possible after spending time with her. And if I ever got a bond, it would be the same with Arthur. He would form a bond, through me, until he had a second, slightly weaker bond, with my own, on his own.

So because of that, until my bond with Sylvie was complete, I would be using Arthur's bond, to support my own developing one with her.

Now it was Arthur's turn to give me a sympathetic and reassuring hug. "It's fine mama bear."

"You're right." I nodded, "Knowing you can still

"She'll be okay. Mana beasts have a natural instinct to grow stronger. She must've felt very suffocated being in a sheltered environment all of her life," Jasmine pips up , walking next to Arthur.

"I know." I nod, "But that honestly doesn't make it hurt any less."

Jasmine lets out a chuckle, "It's like your her mother."

"She is" - "I am"

Arthur and I answer at the same time.

Jasmine stops a bit, staring at us long and hard, before smiling, "I think I get what your parents meant now. Well, to each their own."

Both me and Arthur smile at that. She really is a great woman.

Putting her hand on our shoulder, she signalled for us to start moving. "There's a place I wish to visit first before going to a dungeon. We have to hurry though; it gets a little more dangerous at night."

Willing mana into her body, Jasmine bolted off into the distance, her wind attribute mana propelling her even faster.

I followed after her, forming two gales of wind below my feet as I dashed after her, Arthur doing the same, followed.

Everyone in a while, Arthur would give me an update on Sylvie.

"I just hope that she doesn't go after bigger beasts until she's ready." I sigh.

"Don't worry. She knows she has us if she ever gets in over her head. She knows she can always ask us for help." Arthur says, petting my head.

*****

The journey lasted a few hours and it began to grow dark. The only reason Arthur and I had been able to keep up with Jasmine, even when she was at a dark yellow stage, was Arthur had been using mana rotation throughout the way, and I had controlled mine to only use the bare minimum amount mana needed to create a controlled, constant amount of wind. This skill had become almost second nature to me now as I utilised it unconsciously whenever I exerted mana.

By late evening, we had cleared through a dense forest and arrived at a small clearing. Surrounded by trees, there was a small field of grass with a stream of clear water flowing through it.

"We'll camp out here for a few days," Jasmine announced as she set down her bag and took out a couple of items.

"Weren't we going to a dungeon right away?" Arthur asked, setting down his bag as well.

She simply shook her head, picking up a few branches of wood and gathering them together.

Well Arthur and I went into the forest, finding some decent-sized branches to make a fire with. After a bit, we had a fire crackling and popping in the middle of our camp. Making myself comfortable, I leaned against Arthur who had removed his mask and sat silently by Jasmine, next to the fire.

Trying to break the silence, Arthur asked Jasmine, "What made you want to become an adventurer?"

"…"

Her gaze never left the fire and after a few minutes of more awkward silence, I just stared back at the flame, assuming she didn't want to answer.

"I wanted to get away from my family." I almost missed what she said from how quietly she spoke amidst the wood of the fire snapping fiercely.

"I see… were you on bad terms with your family?" Arthur responded, his eyes focused on the fire.

I choose to just listen to their conversation.

"…"

"The Flamesworth House was a major contributor to the war against the elves. Our house has provided many powerful mages, both conjurers and augmenters. Our lineage in the fire attribute element was second to none. We took great pride in this, because fire is considered to be the most powerful of the elements," she stated monotonously.

Despite her short sentences, this had been the most Jasmine had talked in one sitting.

"But Jasmine, aren't you a…" Arthur asked, looking up at her as she nodded in response.

"Since early on, when I had first awakened and started training, my family tried to test my mana for fire affinity. I went through various tests so they could see how my mana was exerted and how it flowed through my mana channels." She took a pause and poked at the fire before continuing on. "When it was made clear that I had no aptitude for the fire attribute, my family regarded me as lesser."

"…"

Arthur didn't know how to respond to her. For the first time, the always aloof and cold Jasmine seemed…vulnerable.

"I'm sorry for what happened…" was the only response Arthur managed to utter.

But so much for staying silent, I stood up to my knees and crawled over to Jasmine until I was face to face with her. Looking her directly in the eyes, I told her firmly. "Your family is wrong… and crazy." Her eyes went wide at my statement. "Wind magic is probably stronger than fire when you get down to it! All your family is, is a walking matchstick. All they can do is shoot out flames, a pillar if they're really getting creative. But with wind magic… we can create tornadoes, fly, move objects across a room. I mean it was because of wind magic we covered a distance that would have taken us days, in mere hours. Do I really have to say more?"

Jasmine's eyes widened and she shook her head, she gave me a faint smile. "The Twin Horns have treated me well and I don't dislike what I am."

I smiled, "I know that. I can tell it on your face whenever you're with your party, that you're clearly happy. But I'm just letting you know that your family is wrong. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but theirs… is just plain stupid."

I glanced at her palm as Jasmine formed a small swirl of wind, different emotions running through her face as she peered at her hand.

This world was a place of discrimination and classification. The hierarchical roots embedded into this land would never truly disappear. Normal humans were considered second-rate people, while even amongst mages, augmenters were discriminated against by conjurers. It went further than that where, unless one was a deviant or a dual element specialist, some elements were considered "higher class" than others.

Being born from a family of powerful fire attribute mages, she was discarded as inferior because of the elemental attribute she had; something that most mages would kill to acquire. She was a dark yellow augmenter skilled in fighting and mana manipulation at the ripe age of 24. Many would consider her a genius but from the standards she grew up with, she considered herself lesser.

We placed more wood to last through the coldest parts of the night and laid out our sleeping bags a few feet away so we could still feel the heat.

As we got ready to go to sleep, Arthur leaned into my ear and whispered, "I know subtlety isn't really your strong suit. It never has been."

I sent him a glare, "This better be building into a compliment."

He sent me a smile, "Well, more of a request. But I'm not shy to add one in there. Anyway, if we ever meet with nobility… and royalty again - assuming you haven't scared them enough yet. Could you at least try to hold it in. Until we least have a chance at beating them."

I huffed, "Speak for yourself. I already have my network ready. Of course it really isn't anything that great yet, but it has potential. The seeds are planted, and ready to sprout like a butterfly bush at a moment's notice." I winked at him.

He stared at me confused, "Who would-"

I cut him off, "Finishing school is quite boring when you've actually played the high society game. But, when it comes to making connections with little girls eager for your approval, there's nothing like it. As for informats, they're easy to buy. Mom and dad's allowance has always been generous, and I know exactly how to put it to good use." I smirked as I thought of the various amounts of blackmail I had collected for various families.

Arthur stared at me, wide eyed. "Damn, why didn't you say anything?"

I shrugged, "I thought you knew me?"

"I do!" He defended himself. "But I may have accidentally underestimated you. I thought your network may take you another two to three years. Sorry. Never again."

I smiled into the fire, "Well… If I'm being honest. It's nowhere near as good as my old one. But it's better than nothing. Information is the name of the game. And plus, every now and then, I do find a few pieces of gold." I said, remembering the little golden nugget of information I'd collected on a certain elf princess. I don't wanna be mean, but if she pushes my hand...

My eyebrows furrowed as I remembered, "Where's my compliment?" I pouted.

Arthur chuckled, "What you said to Jasmine, was truly amazing."

"Of course it was." I said, smiling and accepting the compliment. I ran my fingers through his hair, and added, "Though, we really do need to work on your elements. You need to do so much more than just creating pillars of fire." I felt a sweat drop roll down the side of his neck as I began making plans. "I've made a lot of progress with my wind, though I definitely need to work on my water. Before we start school, I would like to start working with ice a little bit. Though I'm not sure how much I could exactly get done between practising wind, and working on water, and relearning the sword." I pouted, eyeing the blue blade Arthur wouldn't let me touch unless he knew for a fact I wouldn't drop it on myself.

As much as I hate to admit it, I don't really blame him for it. Considering he never lets me forget it, I know for a fact he remembers how bad my first sword training lesson went. And to be honest, as fun as it would be to swing it around again, I don't wanna know how well it would work out with my current build. It was too big for my current body. So until I grew a bit, I'd have to use a practice sword.

Eyes closed, I waited to drift off when I heard Jasmine mumble something.

"…It's weird. When I talk to you two, it doesn't feel like I'm talking to children."

I didn't respond. Pretending to be asleep, I hoped she wouldn't push further for a reply.

*****

"Good morning." Jasmine was up and cooking something over the fire by the time I had gotten up and out of my sleeping bag.

My stomach rumbled to remind me that I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon as I looked hungrily at the skewered fishes being grilled on the fire.

"Good morning! You should've woken me up, Jasmine. There's no need for you to do all of the chores on your own."

I turned my head to see Arthur rubbing his eyes.

"…I tried waking both of you up… But you wouldn't budge." Her half-closed eyes that give off an apathetic stare regarded us with concern. "If I didn't hear you breathing, I would've mistaken you for corpses."

"Haha…" Arthur let out an awkward chuckle. "I'm sorry, I really need to fix that."

"You and me both." I nodded. I usually woke up early on my own. But if I didn't, then nobody could wake me up.

After devouring the grilled fish for breakfast, we put out the fire. Using the nearby stream to wash myself and my clothes.

Arthur put on his mask and swords, well I wrapped my cloak around my shoulder, and placed my contents lenses in, assuming we'd go hunting for some mana beasts around the area, when Jasmine stopped me.

"Your opponent for these few days will be me."

"Huh?" I couldn't help but be surprised at the turn of events. We came all the way here to spar?

"This area is close to the dungeon we will be exploring, but for these days, I want you to focus on fighting me. I noticed that your fighting style seems… awkward at times. Like, you know it in your head, but your body doesn't listen to you… or something like that." She told Arthur and then turned to me, "You have your control down. But you need to focus on increasing your mana amount. We can stay in a dungeon for days at a time. So you're going to need to work on that."

Unsheathing her two daggers, she pointed one at me, continuing, "We won't use any kind of mana for these next few days while sparring."

I hadn't expected Jasmine to catch on to what I had been worried about, but it was a good opportunity.

"Good idea," Arthur replied, unsheathing his short sword.

I sat down on the grass, getting ready to meditate.

{Arthur's P.O.V.}

"Use your other sword…" Jasmine's eyes flickered toward Dawn's Ballad.

"How did you know this was a sword?" I wasn't planning on hiding my weapon from her but I was still caught off guard.

"Knowing you, that black stick should be something more than just a cane or a practice stick," she shrugged, walking a few steps closer to me.

Giving her a confirming nod, I tossed the short sword to Morgana, who caught it with her eyes closed. From my position, I could see the mana around us, begin to gather towards her.

As the sword soundlessly glided out from its scabbard, the translucent blade glowed a light teal as it reflected the sun's strong rays.

Holding it out in front me, I positioned myself. "Ready when you are."

"Y-Yeah," Jasmine stuttered as her eyes remained glued to Dawn's Ballad.

We dulled the edges of our weapons using mana before beginning. Without mana strengthening my body, I realised just how much I had been neglecting myself. After a few swings, my arms felt heavy and my legs trembled as they pushed feebly off the ground.

This was my mistake. I knew of the limits that my juvenile body had, but instead of trying to fix my shortcomings, I chose only to mask it using mana.

While magic in this world was capable of many things, it should be only used as a supplement to your abilities, not a replacement to cover them.

I lunged out with a sharp thrust aimed at Jasmine's sternum. Even though our swords were coated to prevent fatal injuries, it would still leave bruises and even broken bones if taken lightly; this made the sparring experience much more intense and real.

Jasmine swung her two daggers down in an outward arc, parrying my lunge and knocking the blade of my sword into the ground.

I brought my rear foot forward to maintain balance as my teal blade sunk into the ground below her. However, by that time, Jasmine had already brought her daggers back into position to follow up with a quick, downward slash.

Prying out my sword, I immediately pivoted my body to the side to avoid the overhead slash. As her daggers grazed harmlessly past my loose shirt, I kicked her arm away and stepped away into a more comfortable distance.

My arms were burning from the quick, consecutive movements as I positioned my sword in a defensive stance.

"It's my win," Jasmine said, sheathing her two daggers deftly into their scabbards attached to her thighs.

"You're right," I laughed as I dropped Dawn's Ballad on the ground. We had sparred for a little less than five minutes but my arms and legs screamed in protest from overuse. Massaging my forearms, I picked my blade back up and slid it back into its black sheath.

The duel had ended with me with the upper hand, but I didn't have the strength to proceed. It was my loss.

"Hey Jasmine, I think I'm going to need more than a couple of days to work this out," I confessed with a chuckle.

Her lips curled up slightly as she nodded in agreement.

I had three years before I'd attend Xyrus Academy. During my time at school, I would have plenty of chances to focus on studying mana.

I knew what my priorities were at this time.

Making a rough calculation in my head, I held up two fingers. "Two years, Jasmine. I'll dedicate two years to getting my body truly adjusted to sword-fighting without relying on mana."

"That's it?" she said, surprised.

"Just watch," I smirked.

*****

A Butterfly bush is a really fast growing plant. I could have used weeds, but referring to an information network as weeds, doesn't sound nearly as nice.

Also, finishing school only takes about 6 weeks. So I didn't have to worry about that.

I get the whole bond system is a little confusing, especially with me throwing in mate bonds and secondary bonds. So if you have any questions, please feel free to ask. Because I do have plans to keep using and referencing the bonds - so it would be easier for you guys and less confusing, if you know what's actually happening. (Or if your just here for the romance - I guess you can sort of skip it - though again - their is the mate bond)

I feel like I should give you guys a heads up, that the next chapter is going to likely be on the shorter side (and the two after that as well). But man will it leave a huge impact on you guys. I'm actually willing to bet the title of the next chapter alone would be worth the hype (and the happiness and excitement you would get from four pages - why four you asks, one page for each word in the title.)

In fact, here's a little teaser (Feel free to try and guess what may be happening, and the contents of the paper):

Next Time~

Morgana untied the bright red ribbon and uncurled the scroll.

Her eyes widened as they flew over the contents of the paper, before tears began streaming down her cheeks.

[pebblysand]

of tyres that blow (extended author’s note of chapter v. of castles)

- - TO READ THE CHAPTER ITSELF, CLICK HERE. - -

Oh, what a month it has been. Well, a month and two days - I’m a bit late updating. I’ve had two good things happen, writing wise. 1) I got my first original short story published (!!!!) (you can read it here) and 2) I put out a little one-shot about Fleur Delacour that I’m super happy about and gave me an idea about a new series (more on that later this week, I hope. I might need help with prompts!). Regardless, this latest Irish lockdown is fucking endless and I sometimes wonder if this fic isn’t just an outlet for my feelings of lockdown-induced loneliness, apathy, but also a constant argument that I have with myself thinking: for the love of god, just pull yourself up, will you? You’re a Gryffindor, goddamn it. I certainly wish my fucked up sleeping patterns on no one, although I may or may have Mary-Sued that onto Harry, lol. (Spoiler alert: he’s scheduled to get some real sleep in next chapter. All bets are off regarding whether I will.)

This chapter was surprisingly easy to write (I basically vomited out chapters iv, v, and vi over the span of a week in December) but incredibly difficult to edit. For days, I just couldn’t concentrate, wrote and re-wrote and felt like everything was shite. Then, I realised it’d become this 19,000-words long monster so I had to cut a lot of shit out. We ended up with 15,898 words which I suppose is better? 

I do wonder: do people mind long chapters? Like, I know as fanfic reader, I personally prefer longer formats and rarely gravitate towards works that are less than 3,000 words. I love just getting buried into a story, into plots rather than single scenes. This being said, every time I write something that I deem too long (i.e. above 10k) I have these excruciating struggles where I wonder: should I cut it in half? should I leave it as is? I decided to split the last one. Then, I decided not to split this one because (you may notice this or not, I’m not sure) it’s kind of built a certain way, geared towards basically getting to the last two paragraphs. Like, when you get there, it’s a bit of an ah-ha moment, but I couldn’t get to that ah-ha moment without all the build up before it. It’s the accumulation of all of these little details that feel like they don’t matter. And as Harry says in the end, they don’t, in the grand scheme of things, but also they do. Like, everyday life doesn’t matter until you lose it. Then, it does, if that makes sense.

In terms of next update... I’ve decided to get my law licence transferred to France and the EU (it’s a long story), which means that I need to bloody, fucking study. The exams are at the end of March so my current plan is: hardcore study until the end of february. Mix study/writing in early march and hopefully get chapter vi out mid-March, then hardcore study until the end of March. Please, if you see me posting then, tell me off in the comments cause god, I really need to pass. Now, I will go have my traditional i-ve-put-a-chapter-out shot of limoncello and let you read the below :).

...spoilers for castles, chap v. under the cut -

I’ve done a lot of thinking about what this chapter is meant to be about. Obviously (I hope), every chapter has a point, in this story. Chapter 1 is about time (the way it passes and blurs when your mind’s a complete mess), chapter 2 is about hope, chapter 3 is about inevitability and the consequences of trauma, chapter 4 is about becoming an adult and growing into your own skin, etc. I think this one is about fear. How you feel it, and how you overcome it. Like, Harry takes a decision to stand up, fight, do the interview, regardless of the fact that he is scared (for his life, for that of the people he loves), and finds buried inside him a lot of the courage that he (felt) he lost, after the war. He learns to control his fear of the world by figuring out how apprehend it, through the training Giulia gives him, through learning how to kill, too. 

But, it’s also about fear in society. How the attack on Robards sets everyone on edge and how they keep going regardless. I initially wrote this chapter with the idea that it was going to be about speaking out and being brave, but obviously, fear and fighting against it is a huge part of that, too. 

Then, there’s Mia. Obviously, this fic is Harry/Ginny endgame but I do like the idea of Harry (and possibly Ginny as well) dating at least one other person, before officially tying the knot. Like, yes, Ginny is obviously coming back next chapter. She’ll probably own the second half of next chapter, if I’m honest, considering they’re obviously going to the burrow for christmas. I love Ginny, I’ve missed her and honestly, I can’t wait to bring her back. This being said, to be fair, I’ve kind of realised that this fic may actually be the first I ever write that isn’t strictly “shippy.” Like, yes, their relationship is a huge part of it (it’s a huge part of his life) and it will and was always going to be a huge part of this story but I think this fic is larger than that. It’s a result of my years-long obsession over: but what happens next? Over what “all was well” really means, in a general sense. How do they get to “nineteen years later” and beyond. But yeah, I’ve missed Ginny and I’m glad she’s on her way back to us now. 

Now, obviously. Giulia. I’m sorry. This was always going to happen. Well, almost always. I remember when I first wrote her in, she was a bit of a filler character. At the time, the thing with Mia was supposed to happen in last chapter and I actually had (have) much more backstory around her, than around Giulia. She and Harry were going to have proper conversations (will they ever, who knows?), really get to know each other. But then, Giulia came first narratively and shone through the page. I started writing her and she had this personality and life of her own and I couldn’t bring myself to curtail her. 

Now, we all know how it is: fanfics can only tolerate so many OCs. So, I had to choose between putting Mia at the forefront, or Giulia. I chose Jules. 

Then, in chapter 4, I wrote this: 

Her first lesson is to teach him how to drive the patrol car. ‘I don’t know why we use them,’ she explains, honest, and Harry vaguely wonders if he should be taking notes. ‘Reckon the Ministry saw them being used by Muggles, had to prove they could do better. They like making noise, the Ministry, don’t they? Lots of sirens and shite.’

Politely, Harry hides a chuckle behind a cough. He clearly doesn’t know yet that he doesn’t need to, that Giulia’s sarcastic sense of humour is one of the things that he’ll come to appreciate the most in this world, over the next few months. That the sound of her voice is one he’ll try to never, ever forget. That in the speech that he’ll give when he makes Head Auror, over a decade later, he’ll think of her and say: ‘Okay, let’s try to not just be sirens and shite, all right?’

This kind of tumbled out without me really thinking about it until I really looked at it and thought: fuck, why is he talking about her past tense, like that. Like “the sound of her voice is one he’ll try to never, ever forget.” Why would he forget it, though? And so, just like that, came her death sentence. For that, I apologise. It killed me too, and I cried when I wrote it in (especially when I wrote next chapter, actually, first time I ever made myself cry writing, if I’m honest) but it just needed to happen. It’s how Ginny and he get back together (I mean, obviously - is that even a spoil) because he’s grieving but she’s grown stronger and steady and she’s able to be there in a way that she wasn’t last summer. It did occur to me that god, all his mentors/father figures come to die, don’t they? But honestly, I kind of thing that his real mentor will be Robards, at the end of the day. She was just the one who allowed him to get back on his feet. 

One last note: I’ve been meaning to put this into the fic for ages but have never found the right moment to write it in. In the meantime, I’ll just say it here, because I don’t know if this has frustrated some of yous - I know it might have driven me mad. There is a logic to the Muggle/Wizard swearing/exclamations in the fic. Obviously, this is an adult fic so they swear normally, like eighteen-year-olds would in this (I decided that very early on), but also there’s “God”-s and “Merlin”-s and things like that. 

Now, I think that throughout this fic, although Harry hasn’t mentioned it yet (cause it never fucking fits anywhere) Hermione’s been having a sort of Muggle reckoning. She - in conscience - decides to start swearing/exclaiming “like a Muggle” after the war. If you notice, she only ever says “god”, never “Merlin.” Harry uses both interchangeably although he tends to use Merlin more when he thinks about wizard stuff, but God when he thinks about Muggle stuff (like when he’s with Mia). Ron only swears in “wizard” but I think he might start using Muggle expletives as well in the later chapters because of Hermione rubbing off on him. 

The fact that I even think about all that stuff is pathetic and I need to get a life. But that’s for another post, altogether. 

Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you liked it :). 

[little-ideas]

Happiness comes in a notebook

This started out as part of MANKAI Messenger pt. 4 but then I was 3 pages into expansion on the idea so please accept this offering of feels

EDIT: This doesn’t relate to MANKAI Messenger at all, sorry if I caused any confusion > <

Everyone in MANKAI has a notebook that includes positive statements from the other MANKAI members about why they're great

Izumi probably got the idea after brainstorming some "Autumn Troupe Friendship" plans

Had to have page limits for entries in to Izumi's *cough* Masumi *cough*

Sakyo threatened Banri and Juza with the handcuffs again if they didn't take it seriously and put nice things down in the other's notebook

The books are left on a shelf in the lounge so whenever people think of something for other members they can add it

Each person can decorate their own notebook and some probably also turn them in to scrapbooks

When it first gets mentioned, there's some skepticism but everyone takes it seriously

OK BUT THE PAIRS THAT TRADITIONALLY BICKER?!?

They complain a lot but they really do treasure each other so they include nice notes that are sincere and lack the usual snark

It took a lot of effort

You can find several dozen crumpled, failed draft attempts in Yuki's and Banri's trashcans for Tenma and Juza

When they read their notebooks their partner's notes are their favorites, not that anyone will admit it

When I say everyone I mean EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON!

Sakoda? Check

Matsukawa? Yep

Ensemble cast? Of course!

Yuzo and Tetsuro too

Heck, even Kamekichi has one!

Doesn't matter what your role in MANKAI is, once you join, you get a notebook

Sakuya, Muku, Tsumugi, Azuma, and Omi make sure that they update the notebooks regularly so every time someone goes to look at one there's always something new written

It becomes a regular event in Azuma's room

Taichi, Kazunari, Tsuzuru, Citron, and Homare don't often remember the notebooks, but they have the most spirited entries for everyone when they do

Not sure what this poem means, but thanks, Homare

Sakyo, Itaru, and Tasuku tend to write short entries with life advice

Sakyo is extremely diligent about writing entries and has been known to stay up late to make sure he gets a good piece written Theater Dad does care

Itaru also includes game quotes

Masumi, Kazunari, and Misumi are doodlers

Nobody's quite sure how or when, but Misumi draws unique triangle art on every page spread

Some are harder to spot, so it becomes a game to find them all

Masumi can have some surprisingly cute doodles that gap moe tho and might include a song recommendation if he thinks someone will particularly like it

Izumi gives everyone personalized, original curry recipes

Also includes sides and drinks that go well with the dish

Just a full-course curry meal

Izumi's had these curry recipes prepared from the first moment she got to know everyone

Some of the recipes contain more exotic ingredients that might be more difficult to get ingredients for or are a little more pricey, so she also includes a more accessible curry

Just makes this a thing so goes back to any notebooks that don't have a second recipe and adds one

Hisoka has really insightful posts about each member and some of their greatest moments and ???

Since when has he been conscious enough to make such observations???

The last person to write a post since he needs enough information about someone before he writes an entry, but there's not a single person who got halfway without crying

Tenma the tsundere points out the small strengths in everyone's acting that almost no one else realizes

Yuzo's entries make him Theater Grandpa™

People actually understand Tetsuro for once

TETSURO IS SO HAPPY WHEN HE GETS THE NOTEBOOK OMG HE'S SO FLATTERED IT MAKES HIS DECADE

Did Matsukawa or Kamekichi write their entries? No one knows

SAKODA CRIES WHEN HE GETS A NOTEBOOK

For once he realizes how appreciated he is and that the others love him as friend and family

One of Sakyo's only lengthy posts

Hugs everyone

Notebook becomes his family treasure

It takes him so long to get through all the messages because he has waterfalls within the first few minutes every time without fail

Sakoda and Azuma memorize the contents of their notebooks and recite entries to themselves if they're ever having a bad day or feeling down

Please make this a canon thing. There are so many members who struggle with self-esteem, self-worth, and confidence that having something they can go back to and read what's good about them and all the good things the other members think of them would be so sweet

[unpeumacabre]

my kingdom for a horse: chapter 1

the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.

a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting)

Count: 7k

next -->

A/N: ummmmm so basically i wanted to rewrite kingdom... with a yeong-shin/lee chang twist... and it turned out as a massive lee chang character study lol. the plot borrows elements from the drama but is quite different - i wanted to bring out certain aspects of the characters and tone down on some of them a little more. the story is mostly complete, i'm just in the midst of editing, so updates will be weekly. enjoy~

Survive.

Lee Chang gathers the reins of his horse in his hands, and looks out towards the horizon. The sun is waning, and Mu-yeong is complaining about the flies, and Lee Chang still feels the heat of anger and injustice scorching his skin.

He had been there when the King had sent the messenger to Dongnae – a routine check it had been, nothing more. Apparently, Cho Hak-ju and his spies had heard murmurs of a rebellion in the South, and he had whispered his foul poison into the King’s ear, convincing him to send a messenger to Dongnae to put the magistrate on his guard.

Lee Chang had also been there when the messenger’s horse had returned, bereft of its rider, and bereft of its message.

“Why not send the Prince to investigate?” had been Cho Hak-ju’s answer. “We must send someone reliable this time, someone who will not shirk his mission. And the Prince must have been so bored of late. There is little to occupy his scholarly mind in recent days, what with everyone being occupied preparing for the new prince’s birth.”

“Why not send Beom-il? Surely your son is more experienced than I am at these matters,” Lee Chang had answered, and he had felt the strain of his smile stretch tight against his cheekbones.

“Of course, but Beom-il is indisposed at the moment. He has been sent to oversee the setting up of the new regiment at Haeju, and will not return for a few days more.”

He was an odious snake, he was, Lee Chang thought bitterly, but still the King had acquiesced.

His only modicum of hope lay in the words the King had said to him that night, as they took their private dinner together – a rarity, now that most of his time was occupied with the queen and her increasingly-rounded belly.

“It pains me to say this, but…” the King had picked at his food. “There is something brewing in the south, although I do not believe it to be the rebellion that Lord Cho is suggesting.”

Lee Chang personally thought there was nothing in it, but then again, he didn’t have the extensive network of spies the King and Cho Hak-ju seemed to have. He could not – and probably never will – understand how one can trust men who live in the shadows and trade secrets – and lives – for their livelihood. Perhaps it would not make him a good king, but Lee Chang wanted to believe that it would make him a better one instead.

“I want you to investigate what the Haewon Cho clan is up to in the south,” the King had then said, and Lee Chang had almost fallen from his seat.

“Father, why?” he had asked, a perfectly reasonable question. He well remembered the times in his youth when Cho Hak-ju had said something insulting to him or done something to side-line him, something so serious that he had felt the need to go to the King for recompense. Every single time, he could recall being brushed off and told “Lord Cho thinks only of the good of the nation” and “you would do well to heed his teachings”. Never had the King shown even a hint of resentment or suspicion of the Haewon Cho clan’s leader, and Lee Chang had always thought his trust in Cho Hak-ju unshakeable.

Not so unshakeable, it seemed. A shadow had crossed the King's face then, and he had turned away as if to hide his face.

“I did not believe it when first the Head of the Royal Commandery brought it to my attention,” the King had said then, “but Cho Beom-il has been implicated in several – well, shall we say, unsavoury deals, and Lord Min’s investigations point to Lord Cho at their head. But he has been very careful to cover his tracks, and the evidence is, while convincing, mostly circumstantial.”

Lee Chang had taken a sip of his wine, his throat suddenly dry. “And of my role in all this?” he had managed. “Why send me? Surely by doing so we are playing precisely into Lord Cho’s hands.”

“I do not yet know what he plans,” the King had replied, shaking his head. “All I have are ominous tidings from my spies in Sangju and Dongnae that there is something nefarious being planned, but Lord Cho – if it is indeed he behind it – is an intelligent man. He has not yet let anything slip. If we must play into his hands, at least for now, just know that you go as my envoy, my emissary, and not the messenger boy of the Haewon Cho clan. I trust only my son to carry this through for me.”

“I wish to see my son, and I miss my wife,” Mu-yeong complains, and it snaps Lee Chang back to reality. He huffs out an exasperated laugh at the familiar refrain.

“At least she will be well-taken care of while you are gone,” he says, letting the amusement thread through his voice. “Where did you say she was staying while you are with me?”

“With her aunt, in Naesonjae. Her brother has found work in the queen’s palace, so they have enough money to put her up at least until I return,” Mu-yeong answers, and punctuates his answer with an enormous, put-upon sigh.

“That is good,” Lee Chang says absently. “At least you need not steal desserts from my table any longer to feed her.”

“Your Highness – you said you wouldn’t - ” splutters Mu-yeong, his face turning beet red, as he spins around in his horse to check on the entourage of three guards following them. Thankfully for him, they are bickering among themselves about something inconsequential, and Lee Chang dismisses them as not having heard anything.

“We must find somewhere to make camp soon,” he decides, looking back towards the horizon, and the sun’s fading rays colouring it red.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong replies, and he slows his horse to tell the guards.

Very quickly, they find a clearing in which to make camp, and Lee Chang grooms his horse while the guards and Mu-yeong start the fire. When the fire is sufficiently large, he sits by it and unwraps the jangguk mandu prepared for him that morning by his chefs. The smell of pork and kimchi wafts like sweet perfume from the wrappings, and he catches the guards looking at him enviously from the corner of their eyes, as they dig into their mieum. The gruel splatters over the grass as they eat.

One of the guards’ voices drifts over to him on the wind. “Royals are lucky,” he says, a thread of envy in his voice. “Jangguk mandu and tteokguk for dinner. What I would do for some meat.”

“Hush,” Mu-yeong says, glancing over at Lee Chang, but he pretends not to hear their conversation, and Mu-yeong returns his attention to the guards, reassured. “You know meat is a luxury us peasants cannot afford, especially in these trying times.”

“Yeah? You’d think the royals and the lords don’t know of the ongoing famine. The other day, I was on guard for Lord Park, and he left a whole dish of goldongban untouched. Untouched!” There is a collective groan from the group.

“What I wouldn’t do for some beef and eggs,” agrees one of the others, fervently.

“My mother died of illness last month. She wasted away,” comes the quiet voice of the last guard. “And when you think of all the food that’s left on the royals’ tables…” He shakes his head, and fumbles in his pockets. “I only have my daughter and my dear wife left, and the little girl’s so much like her grandmother. Worries about me all the time. She made me this talisman to keep me safe.” He displays the charm, and Lee Chang can vaguely see the childish drawings on the blue fabric, accompanied by words he is too far away to read.

He looks down at his mandu. Suddenly, the dumplings no longer seem as inviting.

Lee Chang thinks of offering them his food, then. Thinks of unwrapping the rest of the packages tethered to his horse, and sharing the food among the guards, because, if he’s honest, there was far too much food packed for him alone.

But something holds him back. Pride, perhaps, or irrational fear, that they will hate him even more for what they might construe as his pity.

And now it is too late. Before he could come to a a decision, the guards had finished their food, and now they are standing up, stretching, and sorting out the watch schedule. Mu-yeong comes over to him and notices his untouched meal.

“You must eat, Your Highness,” he urges, his tone teasing.

But when Lee Chang turns his face up to face him, Mu-yeong must see something in his face, for he squats down, his eyes turning liquid and understanding.

“Your Highness is different from the rest of the nobles,” he murmurs, under his breath so the other guards do not hear. “You did not execute my family when you caught me stealing from your table to provide for my wife. You did not execute the maid when she ruined your second-best coat with her shoddy washing skills. You did not execute the chef when he cooked you kongguksu for dinner, forgetting soy beans give you sleepless nights. That mercy is far above what any other noble is capable of – ah, now, don’t blush, Your Highness – you know it to be true! Don’t be embarrassed.”

Lee Chang scoffs and turns away. “Be quiet, or I shall execute your whole family,” he mutters under his breath.

“Isn’t it about time you stopped joking about that?” Mu-yeong cries, aghast. “Such a threat from the Crown Prince holds more weight than you think!”

Lee Chang glares at him out of the corner of his eye, then sighs, and turns his attention away. He begins unpacking the linens with which he is to make his bed, and tries not to smile; but he is sure the way his lips twitch, gives him away.

Satisfied that he has restored his prince’s spirits, Mu-yeong returns to the rest of the guards, who have been watching their exchange with some curiosity. Lee Chang strains to hear their conversation as they welcome his guard back to their side with a comradely clap to the back, but it is late, and the hard riding of the morning has driven all the energy from his bones.

The ground is hard against his back, and it is with the unhappy feeling of rocks digging pinpricks of pain into his skin, that he finally drifts into a restless slumber.

***

He is in the King’s study, staring at the irworobongdo behind the King’s desk and thinking to himself, “I will never be king.”

The King’s great-grandfather, his great-great-grandfather, had had the folding screens installed behind his desk in his room in Gyeongbokgung Palace during his reign, to emulate the irworobongdo behind the royal throne where he held court. Lee Chang had been told by his nurse as a boy that the former King, his great-great-grandfather, had used the paintings to intimidate whoever was unlucky enough to be called to his study for an audience. After the Second War of Jeong-yu, three years ago, Gyeongbokgung had been razed to ashes, they had moved here into Changdeokgung as the main palace, and the current King had decided to adopt the same practice as his great-grandfather.

It makes a majestic sight for sure, the five peaks rising above the head of the King, flanked by the two moons, conifers, and streams running down from the mountains. Lee Chang had often been called here in his youth, and one of his earliest – and most vivid – memories is of standing before the King, only nine years old, on his knees and crying. He remembers having been summoned for some small prank he had played on one of the guards. He remembers the King’s back, tall and stately, looming above him, his arms crossed behind him, and his voice: “You are the Crown Prince, Lee Chang. Such childish frivolities are beneath you. You must always act with the maturity and dignity required of your station.”

Yet he cannot remember the King’s face.

So now, he fixes his gaze blankly on the third and middle peak of the irworobongdo, as the King strides leisurely across the room, watching him.

“Did you hear me, Chang?” he says, and his voice is quiet.

“Yes,” Lee Chang manages. “That is wonderful news. You have informed the ministers, then? That Her Highness is with child?”

“Yes, yes,” the King replies, waving his hand airily. “They have given their best wishes, of course. I am sure he will be a beautiful baby boy.”

Or a girl, Lee Chang’s mind whispers, but somehow he knows in his bones that it will be a boy. Cho Hak-ju is not known for his errors.

The King is still watching him. Lee Chang does not know what he is expecting to see.

Then he turns his head away, sighs, and gestures imperiously towards Lee Chang, beckoning him forward. Lee Chang steps forward and kneels at the King's feet. He feels like that nine-year-old child all over again; but the difference is that, in the years between then and now, he has learned not to cry.

“Chang,” the King says, and Lee Chang feels a hand in his hair, a gentle touch which catches him by surprise. “You have survived, as I commanded you to. And you are all that a father can ever ask for. All that a nation can ask for in its prince. When this child comes, you will no longer be destined to be king. But you will still be a prince, and that is all that matters.”

“Is it?” Lee Chang whispers. “I have been brought up to be a king, with the expectation that one day, it was to be I who would sit on the Phoenix Throne and command the kingdom of Joseon. And now I realise that all that will have been for nothing.”

The King sighs again. “Not for nothing,” he amends. “Your brother will need you as he grows. You are experienced both in scholarship and military command. Do not dismiss yourself so easily.” The hand in his hair disappears, and Lee Chang finds himself strangely bereft.

When next he looks up again, the King is sitting at his desk, reading. The third peak glimmers in the light of his lamp, directly above his head. Lee Chang takes it as a dismissal.

“Chang,” the King says, as Lee Chang turns to leave. He turns back to face him, and the King’s eyes are molten gold.

“Remember,” he says. “Survive.” And he opens his mouth, and emits a piercing scream.

Lee Chang is jolted from his slumber and scrambles for the handle of his sword. He whips around and the blade points directly at Mu-yeong’s throat.

“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong gasps, his hand still on Lee Chang’s shoulder, where he has clearly been trying to rouse Lee Chang from his sleep. “We are under attack!”

Lee Chang’s mind immediately flies to Cho Hak-ju’s miserable face, but he quickly dismisses the notion. There is hardly any legitimate reason Cho can find to hunt him down, after all – Lee Chang’s plans had not been ready to set in motion before he had left the capital.

“By who?” he roars, instead. “Who dares attack – “ He is cut off by another piercing yell, this time of pain, and he turns in time to see one of the guards fall to the ground, a man covered in bloody rags clinging to his throat.

Immediately he leaps forward and buries his blade in the back of the attacker. The blow is harsh, and carves a deep line to the bone. The man jerks and convulses, falling off the guard and rolling onto the ground. Lee Chang is repulsed to see that his face is covered in blood, and that his teeth had been buried in the guard’s throat.

Quickly he bends down and shakes the guard. “Are you alright?” he asks roughly, scanning the wound. It is a bad bite, it is, and the attacker had torn out a good chunk of flesh when he had fallen off the body. It needs bandaging, and so Lee Chang rips off a piece of cloth from the hem of his coat. He pulls the fabric around the guard’s neck, making sure not to pull it too tight and obstruct his breathing, then he ties it off with a quick bow.

It is only Mu-yeong’s reflexes which save him from certain death, in those next few moments.

The man who had been lying on the ground – who had clearly been dead, no one could survive such a blow and live – had sprung up from his supine position and leapt for Lee Chang’s throat. He is too slow to react, and when he turns, the man’s breath is hot on his neck, in the instant before Mu-yeong’s blade whistles past him and separates the attacker’s head from his body.

Lee Chang falls back in disbelief, his bottom hitting the ground, and stares unseeingly at the head on the ground, its teeth bared in a foul approximation of a smile.

“How?” he asks, blankly. “He was dead. I buried my blade in his back myself. I severed his spinal cord. He should be dead.”

Another scream of pain attracts his attention, and he looks away in time to see the other two guards fall, and descended upon by more raggedy attackers. Lee Chang feels his stomach roil as he realises one of the smaller figures among the pack, is that of a child. His hand flies to the handle of his sword, and he is about to rise to his feet and run to the rescue, when he feels the body under his other hand begin to tremble.

“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong says warningly, but Lee Chang hardly needs his words to recognise the mottled colour spreading across the downed guard’s face, and the milky film descending over his eyes. He recognises that face, for he has seen it just moments before – on the head that is now sitting, eyes unseeing, among the blood-stained blades of grass.

Purely on instinct, his body leaps back from the guard, and he watches in horror as the guard begins to writhe and shake, as if caught in a fit. His neck arches backwards, beyond what is humanely possible, and his mouth falls open, froth drooling from his jowls. It is the most terrible thing Lee Chang has ever seen.

“Are you alright?” he calls, urgently. No answer, as the man continues to fit.

Then, suddenly, eerily, he stops moving.

“We must get medical help for him,” Lee Chang says urgently, glancing up at Mu-yeong. “He is on the brink of death!”

But Mu-yeong is not looking at him. Lee Chang follows his gaze, and although his body is screaming at him to run, he finds he cannot move. The sight before him is so horrific, it is beyond anything in his worst nightmares.

The other two guards, with their throats torn out and blood gushing from numerous wounds all over their body, are also convulsing on the ground. One of them – the one who had been, only just last night, bemoaning his lack of meat and the royals’ frivolity – has had his eye torn out. The eyeball dangles, almost comically, from the empty cavity of his eye socket, except that there is nothing laughable about this situation at all. Lee Chang turns his head to the side and retches.

As he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, he hears Mu-yeong suck in a sharp breath. “Your Highness,” he says, and his voice is small. “Your Highness!” he repeats, this time louder, and with more urgency. Lee Chang lifts his head, and the group of attackers is looking straight at them.

“They see us,” hisses Mu-yeong frantically. “Your Highness, we must run!”

Lee Chang springs to his feet, but something catches his ankle in a vice-like grip, and he almost falls. He turns, and the body of the third guard – who he had thought stone-cold dead, after his fits! – has roused itself. He is leering up at him, teeth bared grotesquely, and its claws digging into the skin of his ankle.

He is no longer human, some primal instinct of his tells him, and so he does not hesitate.

Again, his blade strikes honest and true, and cuts deep into the body’s abdomen – a blow that would fell any normal man. But the body does not falter, and rears upwards, sword still buried in his stomach, intestines spewing out, his jaws gnashing and aiming straight towards Lee Chang’s face.

Lee Chang yanks the blade from its stomach with a motion that jars his shoulder, for how deep it is buried in the other man’s abdomen. The movement hoists the creature up towards him, and Lee Chang feels its fetid breath against his nose for one terrifying moment – makes contact with its sightless eyes for barely a second – before he swings and takes the body’s head off.

He can’t hear the thud of the head as it hits the ground, and belatedly he realises that the ground is shaking.

“Your Highness, we must flee! Now!” Mu-yeong yells, and grabs his shoulder. Lee Chang springs up and grabs his pack from the ground, where it is lying next to him.

And so they fly, the pursuers hot on their heels. Lee Chang has never run so fast in his life. He feels his heart beating a thousand miles an hour, thrumming through his ears, counting out the beat of his steps as they sprint over the dry grass and across the plain.

They are running too fast to stop, however, when they reach the cliff. There is barely a split second as they see the water loom before them, Mu-yeong looks at him, and his mouth forms an ‘o’ – Lee Chang would laugh, at the surrealism of the entire situation, if he weren’t working so hard to keep from breaking down. He says some words his wet nurse would have shook him upside down for.

And then they hit the water. The impact is like hitting a wall, and it drives all the air out of his lungs. He feels himself begin to sink, his heavy silk clothes quickly absorbing the water and lending him the weight of a stone, and the water bites cold frost into his skin.

Desperately, he kicks towards the surface, feeling his head throb with the pain of his lack of air. The moonlight is bright above the water’s surface, so near yet so far, as if the moon itself is taunting him. His limbs are a leaden weight, and he barely feels himself move. He cannot breathe.

Then suddenly he breaks the surface of the water with a gasp, and air – blessed air – rushes into his lungs. The cold air stings his reddened cheeks, and he already feels the ache of bruises beginning to form, from his intimate contact with the hard surface of the water.

“Mu-yeong!” he yells hoarsely, when he does not see the guard’s head. Moments later, the man breaks the surface, gasping and flailing, his sodden hair and clothes clinging miserably to his skin. Lee Chang knows he looks no better.

“They are too afraid to jump!” Mu-yeong calls to him, his voice bright with relief, pointing at the cliff’s edge. Indeed, the attackers are gathered above them, staring sombrely down at the two of them paddling in the water. There is one unlucky man who evidently was unable to slow his run, and is now clinging to the cliff face.

As they watch, he slips and plunges into the water. He does not come back up.

“It is a miracle,” Lee Chang says in disbelief. “They are afraid of the water.”

“Probably afraid of freezing to – well, death, if that’s even an appropriate word for them,” Mu-yeong says grimly. “And so will we, if we stay here much longer. The sun is rising, and I can see lights over there – there must be a village, or a camp of some sort. We must make for it before we freeze to death.”

With a nod of assent on Lee Chang’s part, they paddle dolefully to the opposite shore and haul themselves up. The wind is cruel and relentless, and Lee Chang feels his teeth begin to chatter. They lie prone on the ground, chests heaving in tune, arms spread akimbo, and staring unseeingly up at the beautiful night sky.

“C-c-c-curse this autumn wind,” cries Mu-yeong. “I am only thankful that it is not winter. We w-w-would be dead by now, if t-that were the case.”

Lee Chang laughs. But halfway through, it devolves into a sob, and he somehow finds the energy to sit up.

He barely makes it up before he feels his stomach revolt, and he throws up all over the ground. The remnants of meat in his vomit remind him of the chunks of flesh the creatures had torn off the guards’ bodies, and the memory makes him heave again. This time nothing comes up.

He turns, and Mu-yeong is shaking with quiet sobs, his jaw clenched and  his eyes blinking furiously as he tries to hold back tears. It is the first time Lee Chang has ever seen Mu-yeong cry.

“Mu-yeong.” Lee Chang calls his name, and the gentleness of his voice surprises even him. The guard turns to him, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and his fist stuffed in his mouth to block his sobs. Lee Chang tries to find the right things to say.

“They were good, honest men,” he says, at last. “I did not know them very long, but I could tell that they were good men. We will honour their memories and their bravery in the face of unholy evil.”

Mu-yeong chokes out a laugh, and it is an ugly sound. “They were bloody awful at times,” he says, casting his eyes away. “We always quarrelled. They begrudged me my role as your guard, and always teased me for only passing the exam in my forties, when they had done so in their youth.” He pauses to wipe at the sides of his eyes, and when he continues, his voice is quiet.

“But they were good men,” he says, and his voice is full of affection. “You are right, Your Highness. They were honest, and hardworking, and brave. They did not deserve the death they received.”

The sun is rising, and the heat of its rays takes the edge off the cold. Lee Chang tries to ignore the sour stench of his own vomit, and stares off into the horizon. Their attackers are no longer gathered at the cliff’s edge, from what he can make out.

“They were ungodly abominations,” he says lowly, recalling the dark patterns that had been spread across their faces and exposed skin, and the rotting flesh that had been falling off their bodies. “I do not know how it is that they were able to sustain blows that would kill any normal man, nor why they were feeding on human flesh. But they are still on the other side of the river, and I fear for the villages we passed on our way.”

“What will we do, Your Highness?” asks Mu-yeong, and some semblance of normality has been restored to his voice. “Do we still ride – well, walk to Dongnae?”

“Yes,” Lee Chang says decisively. “We must go to Dongnae, and light the signal fires to warn the other cities in the region. We do not know how many of these people are out there, nor what they want. It will be good to prepare everyone for an attack.

“And Mu-yeong?” he says, almost as an afterthought, but as quite an important one. He manages a small smile when the guard turns to face him.

“We will return for your friends’ bodies,” he murmurs softly. “Their bodies will not be left to rot, alone and with only the crows for company. We will return them to Hanyang, for an honourable burial, and for the peace of mind of their family.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong says quietly, and he is about to say something else, when they are interrupted by a loud cacophony of clattering.

“Who are you, and what have you come for?” comes a voice from their right, and when Lee Chang turns, he comes face to face with the barrel of a musket.

It is a rough-looking man, smaller in stature but no less fierce for it. His hair is carelessly tossed into a bun, and sweaty strands of it stick to his tan skin. The bags under his eyes speak of countless sleepless nights, but still the hand that is holding the gun is steady and true. A pile of bamboo poles lies by him, the origin of the clattering sound.

“Put down your weapon!” Mu-yeong cries, and hefts his sword. The man spares him a glance out of the corner of his eyes. “Do you know who you dare lift your weapon against? This is the Crown Prince of the Joseon kingdom!”

The stranger’s brows shoot up, but apart from that, he does not move an inch, and the barrel of the musket is still pointed straight at Lee Chang’s face. Lee Chang feels himself begin to sweat.

“You did not answer the question,” he says quietly. “Why have the Crown Prince and his guard emerged from the banks of the Nakdong River, soaking wet and covered in gore?”

“We were attacked,” Lee Chang finds his voice. “By men who ate human flesh and did not balk at our blades in their back. Three of my other guards were felled by the attackers, and we had to flee into the river, which they dared not enter.”

There is a moment of silence, as the man stares at them, his eyes wide, and Lee Chang thinks he does not believe him. Honestly, were he the opposing party, he does not think he would believe his story either, outlandish as it seems – but every word of it is, unfortunately, the cold, hard truth.

“Then they did survive,” the man says abruptly, and his arm drops back to his side. Mu-yeong’s stance relaxes minutely, his blade still drawn, but the man pays him no mind and turns to the river.

“We must return to the other side,” he says urgently. “You must show me where the monsters descended on you.”

“Monsters?” splutters Mu-yeong. “What the hell – beg pardon, Your Highness – what do you mean by that?”

“Those men were dead,” the stranger says ruthlessly. “They frothed at the mouth and fitted to death, but at night they rise again and crave human flesh. They cannot be killed by normal means – only by fire, deep water, or beheading. And if we do not dispose of their bodies by tonight, they will return to kill once more.” He turns to them again, his eyes ablaze. “You must show me where they found you. They will be hiding from the sun, somewhere nearby, as they fear the daylight. We must burn their bodies as soon as possible.”

“We were on our way to Dongnae – “ starts Mu-yeong mulishly, but then he stops as Lee Chang holds up a hand to stop him. If, indeed, these men will rise again tonight to attack more unsuspecting folk… Lee Chang thinks, again, of the villages they had passed on the way, and the playful cries of children that had arisen from those settlements. He cannot let the innocent people in those villages die, not when he can prevent it.

“We will show you the way. Dongnae can wait.”

“Your Highness – “ Mu-yeong says sharply. “What reason do we have to trust this – this stranger? He could be lying. The story he tells – of the dead rising and killing for human flesh? It is a tale that is nigh on impossible.”

“You saw what we saw last night, Mu-yeong,” Lee Chang says quietly. “I do not believe those men were human. Besides,” he says, with a weak smile, “I did promise you we would return to retrieve your friends’ bodies – although I did not expect that we would do it as soon as we are choosing to now. Dongnae can wait. If we find these bodies and destroy them, it will greatly thin the number of monsters out there.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong accedes. Although it is not without a final glare towards the back of the man, who is standing by the riverside a little ways away, glancing restlessly back at them as they make their decision.

He brings them to a bridge further down the road, where they cross to the other side of the river, and they retrace their steps in silence till they reach the remains of the campsite.

The ashes of the fire Mu-yeong had lit are still smoking, and the bodies – even those of the guards – are nowhere to be found.

“They must have carried their bodies off,” Mu-yeong mutters, in disgust. Lee Chang watches as the man squats down and examines the ground.

“Do you see any tracks?” he calls, as the man picks up a piece of dirt off the ground and sniffs at it. He spares Lee Chang a glance, then stands up and brushes his hands off on his trousers.

“They went northward,” he says shortly. “Into the forest. There must be some abandoned homes or buildings among the trees in which they can hide from the sun.”

Lee Chang nods, and gestures forward. “Lead the way then.”

They walk into the woods. The trees have shed their leaves and are bare and stark against the crisp autumn sunlight. Frost crunches under their feet as they walk, and the air is eerily still, undisturbed by the sounds of any animals. Lee Chang gathers his coat tighter around him, and subconsciously tightens his grip on the handle of his sword.

“There,” the man says, stopping suddenly, and he points at a ruined shack that lies a distance from them. They make their way over to it, and Mu-yeong tentatively opens the door. It creaks as it opens, and releases a cloud of dust that makes all of them cough.

Lee Chang steps in first, squinting into the darkness. He draws his sword, and the blade gleams dully. The floorboards groan under his feet as he walks, craning his neck to see further than one chok in front of his face.

There – there is a glimmer of something in the corner of the room, he thinks, and readies his sword for battle – then there is an almighty crash as the complaining floorboards finally give way, and he sinks downwards with a shout of surprise.

The landing is unexpectedly soft, and there is a sinking feeling in his stomach as he turns his head downwards to gaze at what has broken his fall.

Faces upon faces upon faces, bodies upon bodies upon bodies, curled up in grotesque positions under the boards. Their eyes are shut in a gross parody of sleep, but their chests do not move with breath. They are dead.

Mu-yeong hoists him from the ground, and utters a hoarse cry as he sees what Lee Chang has happened upon. The stranger is unfazed, however, and begins pulling up the floorboards.

“We must get all of them out, and make sure their heads are cut off before we bury them, so they do not rise again,” he orders. Lee Chang has a very brief argument with a voice in his head – one that sounds very much like the King’s voice - about the merits of following the orders of someone of a lesser station than himself, before he sternly tells himself off and squats down to help.

They manage to pull out all twenty-one bodies of their attackers, and Lee Chang is horrified to find out that he had been right – one of them had been a child, no older than ten years of age, with the same mottled pattern on his skin, and mouth painted with gore. He almost throws up again, then, but his stomach is protesting the lack of food, and thankfully he manages to push down the urge.

Mu-yeong finds the bodies of the guards, one headless and two others still intact. He drags the bodies and the head out and lays them sombrely in front of the porch, aside from the other bodies.

“I apologise, my friends,” he says, under his breath, so softly that Lee Chang knows the words are not meant for others to hear. “I would give you now a burial worthy of the most honourable of men, but alas, I cannot do so. I promise, I will retrieve your bodies and bring them back to your honourable families, so they can pay their respects to you as you deserve.”

The man comes up to him and stands by his side, looking at the bodies of the guards. Then, in a stern but kind voice, completely at odds with his manner so far, he says, “We must cut off their heads as well. Any man the monsters bite will turn into one of their kind.”

Mu-yeong looks torn, and splutters. “That is absurd. Whoever heard of such a thing? Your Highness,” he turns to Lee Chang, and while his voice is accusatory, his eyes are soft with anguish. “You do not believe him, do you?”

Lee Chang sighs, and inadvertently locks eyes with the man. His eyes are fierce, and hooded, but Lee Chang thinks they hold no lies – at least, with regards to his matter. He shakes his head in answer to Mu-yeong.

“We saw it for ourselves last night, Mu-yeong,” he says patiently. “One of them returned to life and attacked me, and the only way of ensuring he did not rise again, was by taking off his head. Think of this,” and he manages what he hopes is a comforting smile, “it would be the kindest thing to do, to stop them casting a blemish on their honourable record by killing more innocent people. They would have wanted you to do it.”

In answer, Mu-yeong bows his head, and nods. And later, when they are done beheading the rest of the monsters, he takes the heads off the guards himself.

“We must dig a pit to bury the bodies in,” the man says, coming out of the shack with tools in hand. He passes one shovel to Mu-yeong, then he looks at Lee Chang out of the corner of his eye, a question written clearly in his face. Mu-yeong’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to interject; but Lee Chang silences him with a look, and takes the shovel from the man.

About an hour passes as they dig into the frozen ground to create a large shallow pit – shallow because they can go no deeper with the rudimentary tools they have, and the hardness of the soil. It is backbreaking work, and even in the cold biting air, Lee Chang feels sweat beading on his brow. The numbness in his fingers and the weariness in his bones does not help.

When they are finished, they haul most of the bodies over to the pit and try, as carefully as possible, to arrange them inside. They were once human, after all, and every human, no matter how small in stature or station, deserved an honourable burial.

When it comes to the three guards, however, the stranger squats down by the bodies and rifles through their clothing. In a swift movement, Lee Chang strides over and has his blade at the man’s throat.

The man pauses in his movements, and looks up at Lee Chang. A swallow bobs his throat, but his eyes hold no fear, and the twist of his mouth belies his impatience.

“How dare you attempt to desecrate these men by looting from them,” Lee Chang whispers. “Is it not enough that their bodies have been so profanely defiled? Do you intend to rob them as well?”

“Your Highness,” the man replies, very calmly – too calmly, for all that he had a blade at his throat – “while you have been sitting in your golden palace, eating the food of the gods, we have been starving.” Very slowly, his hand comes up and grips the pommel of the sword, right next to Lee Chang’s hand. His eyes are dark, and full of resolve.

“The sick at Jiyulheon need food, or they will die by morning,” he says quietly. “Our stocks had already been depleted before the monsters appeared, and now, more than ever, we need food. Will you let the sick and injured at Jiyulheon starve to death, for your honour and morality? This is reality, Your Highness – the reality of us peasants’ lives. This is not the first time I have stolen from a dead body to live, and it will not be the last.”

Mu-yeong is oddly silent, Lee Chang thinks, dazedly. He is able to hold the man’s gaze for a moment – just a moment more - then he can bear it no longer, and has to avert his eyes.

The man coolly levers the sword away from his throat, and returns to searching quickly through the guards’ clothes. He finds a few packets of dried meat and other trail foods, and these he packs them away in his bag.

When he is done, he makes to drag the bodies into the pit, and a small blue square of fabric falls from one of the guards’ pockets. As Mu-yeong and the stranger lug the bodies away, Lee Chang bends over and retrieves the item.

The guard’s daughter has written on it, in shaky writing; Papa, it reads, pleas keep your self safe and pleas bring back some mandu for mommy. We love you! There is a doodle of a girl sitting on what appears to be some vaguely-four-legged animal, brandishing a sword, with her father seated behind her. Lee Chang finds he suddenly has to steady himself against the walls of the shack, as a lump finds its way to his throat.

“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong calls, and Lee Chang looks up with a start to realise that the other two have already hurried some way up the slight incline that had led to the shed, and are now looking back at him – Mu-yeong with puzzlement, the stranger with badly-concealed impatience.

“The sun is setting,” says the man. “I must return to Jiyulheon – they will need help with defence against whatever monsters are left from this pack.”

“We will come with you,” calls Lee Chang, on some impulse, as the man turns to leave. Lee Chang’s words makes him spin round, his faint brows riding high in surprise.

“Why?” he says, and the twist of his mouth reads of his suspicion. “I thought you were on your way to Dongnae?”

“Staying in Jiyulheon cannot be your permanent solution against an attack,” Lee Chang argues, walking quickly up to them; and from the way the man’s eyes darken, Lee Chang knows he has hit his mark. He steps closer to the man, and they lock gazes.

“We can help with your defence through the night, and when morning comes, we will find a way to bring the people of Jiyulheon to safety. I swear this upon my crown,” he says, solemnly, for the look in those burning eyes holds him to nothing but the truth.

“Can a prince run as fast as is needed?” says the man at last, tossing his head scornfully. A sudden flock of crows ascends above their heads, bringing with them a cacophony of cawing, and their shadow runs long. The sun is setting, and night is drawing near.

Lee Chang feels his resolve set. He tucks the talisman into his pocket, and gives the man a firm nod.

[purplesurveys]

997

survey by deirdrelove

What is today’s date? October 26th.

Do you have any plans for tomorrow? Just work. All weekdays are for work.

Do you wear perfume or cologne? Usually, perfume. I have colognes too, but I like the scent of my main perfume far more so that’s what I choose to wear most of the time.

What kind of computer are you using? I have a Macbook Air.

What colour is your mouse? I haven’t used one in years. A trackpad has been reliable enough.

Is it sunny outside? It’s not. I’m not updated on the news but I think we’re supposed to have a really powerful typhoon pass by for the next few days, so the wind has been violent and howling all morning. Some of my co-workers have had power outages at home only used their mobile data today so yeah, it’s not looking too good. I’ve closed my windows for the meantime so that they don’t smash just in case the wind blows too hard.

What has the weather been like lately? It’s been very cold all weekend because of the rain, but it also gets humid every now and then. Still, it’s cold enough for me to turn off my fan all day which is good enough.

When was the last time you cried? Last night, I think.

When was the last time you sincerely smiled? I don’t remember. Maybe last night or yesterday afternoon.

When was the last time you laughed freely? I can’t tell you. I really can’t remember when the last time was. I’ve chuckled here and there, of course; it just hasn’t been hearty for a while now.

Do you eat breakfast regularly? No. I only have a cup of coffee so that I can get properly awake for workkk.

Do you take vitamins? Not regularly.

When was the last time you took aspirin or some other pain reliever? Saturday. I had a headache and was feeling a little dizzy so I had to take a Biogesic.

When did you learn to tie your shoes? Kinder 2, when I was five. One of our ‘exams’ was for the teachers to check if we can already tie our shoes, so my grandma had to teach me. I’m super awful with my hands though, and to this day I still struggle with tying my shoelaces and I still take longer than anyone I know.

What was your favourite grade in elementary school? 5th was fun until things fell apart by the end of it; 7th was great throughout.

Do you like clouds? I like when it’s cloudy, but I don’t lie on the ground and look at clouds.

What colour are your shoelaces? I have several shoes, but I think all of their shoelaces are white.

How many states have you been to? 0.

How many different countries have you been to? 6.

When was the last time you deeply regretted something? September.

Do you go to other people for advice or do you deal with things on your own? I like hearing what my friends have to think because whenever I’ve done things on my own I always fuck it up one way or another, and that sensation gets tiring at some point. Having other perspectives and voices helps as well.

How long was your longest relationship? 4 years.

What is your favourite brand of gum? I don’t have one considering they all lose their taste after a few chews. Whenever someone has gum and shares a piece with me, I just take it regardless of the brand.

What is something that you regularly wear that makes you stand out? I don’t know if I have anything like that. I hate standing out, anyway.

Do you own a debit card? Yuh.

A credit card? Nope.

Are you in debt? I am not.

When is your birthday? *sigh* Again, April 21st...

How old will you be? I’ll be 23.

What kind of cake is your favourite? Cheesecake! Flourless chocolate cakes and red velvet cakes are also great.

Do you prefer small birthday parties or big ones? For parties held by relatives I like them to be big, because it’s always nice to reunite with distant family members that I never get to see. With friends, small and intimate parties do the trick for me.

What song are you listening to now? No music, and I have a YouTube video paused.

Do you download illegal mp3's? I used to convert YouTube videos of audio tracks into MP3, if that counts. I never directly downloaded MP3s though; I always heard horror stories of those things containing viruses or the downloaded file not even storing the actual song.

What was the most traumatic experience of your life? [trigger warning] Being the main witness to my drunk grandfather beating the ever-living shit out of my infant cousin in his stupor when I was 9, and bearing the responsibility to tell that cousin’s mom, who was cooking dinner. I’m pretty sure I aged like 15 years from that moment alone.

Have you ever lost a friend to drugs or alcohol? No.

Who was your childhood best friend? Angela.

Are you still friends now? Yeah, for sure. I just asked her for dyeing tips an hour ago.

If not, why?

Are you sitting at a desk right now? Yes.

Are you eating or drinking? Nope, but I’ll be having dinner in about an hour or so.

How many surveys have you taken today? This is the first one.

Have you ever made a survey? No. I’m not the best in coming up with interesting random questions, so I’ve never given it a shot. Others are way better at it.

If you haven't you should. Its fun. =] I’m sure it is, but I really don’t think I’m creative enough for it.

Did you ever have any sort of collection? Nah.

Do you believe in Karma? I don’t subscribe to the entire concept as it’s defined in Hinduism, but yeah sometimes I’ll refer to its more informal description whenever someone does something that upsets me.

What do you thinks happens to us when we die? Permanent sleep.

What age do you think you'll die? My late relatives all passed between the ages of 70 to early 80s, so maybe by then. But idk, I hope I get my great-grandma’s longevity (she died at 95) because I’m still competitive when it comes to age and I wanna make it to that high a number, ha.

If you knew you had one more month to live what would you do? Well first I’d give out a sigh of relief because thank fuck. After that I’d probably spend the whole month eating all my favorite foods and traveling, at least to the cities that are now accepting visitors. I’d write down instructions for Kimi so that he’s properly cared for, give away my stuff, try to see some friends before it all ends.

About how long was the last book you read? It’s around 600 pages but I’m barely 50 pages in.

Have you read any books by V.C.Andrews? I don’t think so.

Have you ever read a play before? Yes.

A play not written by Shakespeare? Yes.

Have you ever read a play outside of school? Yeah, I have.

What is one career you don't think you could do no matter how much it paid? Engineer.

Would you want to live in the country or the city? City, without a doubt. I like the countryside and it’s certainly relaxing, but I need things to be constantly going on; I like my environment to be hectic, be loud, be busy. Too much quiet isn’t good for me.

Do you prefer large cities or small ones? Large.

Do you/Did you ride the school bus? Yep.

If not how did you get to school?

Do you have iTunes on your computer? Yeah but only because I’m on a Mac and I’m not sure if I can remove the app from my laptop. I haven’t used iTunes since high school though, and if I could I’d get rid of it.

Have you ever edited Wikipedia? Yeah, when I was like 10 lol. It wasn’t to mess around with an entry though; I saw an inaccuracy and genuinely wanted to help out.

Have you ever edited any other wiki? I’m sure I edited more than one page.

Is there a website [besides social networking] that you check almost daily? I don’t think so.

Are you procrastinating? Nope, all my homework for the day’s been done.

Do/Did you make good grades in school? In college, yes. I paid less attention in high school and my grades occasionally showed it.

What is your relationship with your parents like? It’s very casual and not very deep at all. I don’t confide in them, and the thought actually makes me squirm. I’m still skeptical of my mom and I don’t let myself get invested in her after the hurt she’s put me through in the last few years, but at least we don’t yell at each other as much anymore.

Do you have a better relationship with one parent than the other? You can say that. I get along better with my dad.

Do you look like your mom or your dad? Mom. But for some friends, my dad.

Do you write things on your hand to remind yourself? This is what I did in high school, but I haven’t done it since.

Do you use your phone as an alarm? If I need an alarm, yes.

Do you listen to music while you sleep? Nope, but similar. I turn on videos because talking sounds make me sleepy much faster.

Do you get scared when you know some virus or sickness is being passed? I mean if it’s like a plague then yeah, obviously. But to connect this question to today’s situation - after getting used to Covid stats and seeing the ratio of those who die from it vs those who end up healing from it, I’ve highkey stopped being afraid of it lol

Are you realistic? Yes.

Do you sing in the shower? Nope.

[chocojjk]

cafes and pinky promises

summary: bff! felix → idol! felix ,,, like i said , i suck at summaries 

words: 2.8k

a/n: yall im on a roll, i really don't know why im writing so much these past few days but enjoy,, i hope

not edited, per usual

as you entered your favorite cafe, you never expected to come face to face with the boy who filled up every second of your thoughts

in fact, it was the very boy that has created so many memories with you in this same exact place

you wanted to go up to him, to see how he was doing, ask him how idol life been treating him but you found yourself glued to the floor, unable to move

every single memory with him suddenly flashing in mind

-

the two of you met back in middle school

it was the typical story

you were the new kid in school,

didn't have any friends,,

sat alone at lunch,,,

then one day he came up to you wearing his brightest smile, the freckles upon his cheeks shining up like the stars in the sky

“hi, im felix”

(❁´◡`❁)

and the rest was history

you guys became the best of friends, practically glued to the hip

but let’s skip all that friendship fluff and fast forward to second year of high school

you guys have been best friends for a good four years now

one of the things that you guys love doing is going to the cafe a little out of town

the cafe had free wifi and barely any people so it became a routine to just go there after school and goof around

dont get me wrong, you guys do homework too

#getyoureducationkids

also like #fuckthesystem

anyways,,,,

since you guys were the smartest in your class, it never really took that long to finish homework and instead you guys would just have fun listening to music, telling bad jokes, watching a show on netflix, and sometimes even just playing rock paper and scissors

there’s never a dull moment between the two of you

honestly if it wasn’t for you and felix, the cafe would probably be out of business

even the owner knew you two

she was the sweetest old lady, always giving you guys extra cookies and letting you stay for as long as you can

she would also always joke around about how you two would make the cutest couple, comparing the two of you to her and her husband who were high school sweethearts

being young, the thought first made you wanna vomit

like ew,,, boys are gross

but as you grew older, you started seeing the boy in a different light

the small touches and the hand holding suddenly started to have meaning

everytime he laughed, it was music to your ears

his freckles became the most beautiful thing in the world, and you loved tracing each one of them

sure, you guys have had your own share of petty fights but at the end of the day it did nothing but strengthen the friendship that you two share

there were never any secrets

(((besides of course these feelings that were growing but shh we dont speak of that)))

you knew felix like the back of your hand and vice versa

and you could just see yourself spending every moment with him in the upcoming future

until of course one day,

“y/n, i need to tell you something but pinky promise you won’t get mad?”

“felix every time someone says that, people tend to be mad”

“y/n just pinky promise me you wont”

“ok, i pinky promise, now what is it??”

felix was absolutely terrified

he’s been meaning to tell you this for a while but every time he tried he just couldn't find the words to do so

and god, how he has let time pass him by

“im moving to korea”

you bursted out laughing and felix is confused as heck like?????

whats??

so ???

funny????

“seriously lix, you made me pinky promise not to be mad over a joke??”

you see, pinky promises may seem like a childish thing but it was sacred between the two of you

so when he used it over a joke, you just couldn’t help but let out a few couple giggles

however, as you turned to face him and saw the serious expression written on his face you found yourself at loss for words

“wait, are you serious?”

“yeah”

“wh-when are you leaving?”

“in a month”

“h-how long have you known???”

“ummmm” (´･_･`)

“felix.”

“Since we went to the park”

the park

you remembered that day, it was probably one of the happiest days of your life

you passed your math test with a perfect score and has just become the student body president of your class

on top of that, felix decided he wanted to treat you out for ice cream as he was proud of his best friend

what you didnt know was that this was the day that would change everything

this was the day he was scouted

the day he received the news that he was accepted as a trainee

and hes been finding a way to tell you 

but he just couldn't 

you were completely over the moon

as you guys were sitting on the swings, your hands occupied with your own ice cream cones

felix started talking about his dance team and choir class

you always knew how much he enjoyed those classes

yet as he talked about his passion, his eyes twinkling and his mouth curving into the softest smile, you truly got a grasp on how much your best friend loved music and performing

you can't help but think back to a few days ago, when your friend brought up how much your eyes sparkled talking about felix

you wondered if you looked the same as how felix looked now, talking about the things that he loved to do  

and then it hit you

you were in love with your best friend

god reader, how cliche could you be (●'◡'●)ﾉ♥

“felix, that was two months ago.”

to say you were mad was an understatement,, you were filled with rage

anger and disappointment all just combining into one

suddenly the future that you clearly saw vanished because every single one of those versions had the boy by your side

“im sorry”

not knowing how to respond, you started packing up your things in your backpack

felix just watching you do so, thinking of things to say to make the situation at hand better

once you stood up, he snapped out of his thoughts, worry completely washing over his eyes

“where are you going?”

“im going home.” you say emotionlessly

“let me walk you”

“no”

and that was the last of it

he tried calling you several times after that yet all he was left with was your voicemail

every time he approached you at school, you would walk the other way

every day he would show up at the cafe hoping to see your face, yet that day never came because you stopped going

you figured it’d be easier to let him go if you just stayed mad at him

you figured that your feelings would automatically go away if you replaced them with hate

but reader, you were so wrong  

the day came when he finally had to go

that day was painfully hard for you

your whole class was bidding him goodbye, and all you could do was watch from the sidelines, your pride way too high to forgive him now

no one really knew about your guys’ fall out as you found it was better to keep things to yourself than become the schools new gossip

and so when everyone started asking you how you felt, you responded with the most generic answers

“whatever makes him happy, im happy”

oh reader, you are such a liar

it wasn't until a year after, that you truly forgave him

and that was because a classmate of yours barged into the room, waving her phone around

“Guys remember felix!, well he’s an idol now!!”

as soon as you got home that day, you searched up his name, and there he was

Lee Felix

Stray Kids

and you realized how stupid you’ve been

you never even bothered asking him why he was leaving

you cried yourself to sleep that night as you look back on the wasted friendship that you threw down the drain

but you figured that there was no point in being sad over it anymore

you were done holding grudges

so the next day you went back to the cafe and binged the survival show that your best friend, well ex best friend, was in

the sweet old day was overjoyed when she saw your familiar face

she asked you where your partner in crime was and with a genuine smile you responded with “he’s out there doing bigger and greater things”

ever since then, you made the cafe a weekly trip

it hurt you to know that you spent your time resenting him so you made a pinky promise to yourself, that even if he didnt know, you would support him no matter what

you ended up buying all their albums

watching their vlives

staying up late for their debuts

hell, you've even gon to the point of making a stan account just to be be updated

-

which brings you to now

you knew that felix was in australia, they were having a concert here

you even got a ticket for yourself, not close enough where he could see you of course

you were still ashamed of your actions even though it’s been almost two years

so when you walked in the cafe and saw him with his 8 buds seated in your guys’ usual spot, you definitely didn't know how to react

seeming as they haven't spotted you yet, you quickly made your way out the door

however, Elise, the sweet old lady, had other plans

“y/n, honey, leaving so quickly?”

and that was when 9 heads turned to the door

all 18 eyes just looking at you

‘fuck y/n okay just act cool’

‘youre fine’

‘maybe they don't even notice you’

‘omg speak’

“y/n?” felix says, his deep voice breaking you out of your thoughts

“felix?? Hi!!!” you say, giving him the biggest fake smile ever

it’s not that you wanted to okay, it was just a very awkward situation and you have no idea how to act

‘smooth y/n, so smooth’

I swear if you could facepalm yourself, you’d be doing so with both of your hands + the hands of the 7 billion people on this earth

“uhm hi?,” he replies, obviously confused as to why you suddenly acknowledged his existence

truth to be told, he was expecting you to ignore him just like all the other times before

“well, won't you look at that, my two musketeers are back together,” Elise butts in, 

“ah, it's just like the old days, would you guys like some cookies???” she says, a soft smile on her face

“no that's okay El, im heading out soon anyways, can i just have the usual caramel macchiato?” you say quickly, ignoring the awkward tension in the air

“sure thing hon”

and as she goes to the back to make your order, you were left with the 9 boys

welp

its now or never

“uhm, when did you get back?”

you ask, your hands automatically playing with the hem of your shirt, a clear sign that you were nervous

“im just here for the week”

“oh,,, nice”

“Yeah”

(>_<)

the other boys just sitting in silence, going back and forth between the two of you

they know exactly who you are, and trust me, they arent your biggest fans

which is exactly why they chose to not break the awkward tension in the air

and you swear, you wish you can just have the earth open up and swallow you whole

“hon, heres your order!”

oh thank god,,

Elise is your savior

even though you wouldnt even be in this situation if it wasnt for her

you quickly grab your drink and make your way out,,, but not before saying

“uhm, it was nice seeing you again lix,” you say, this time, a genuine smile on your face

◐ˍ◑

when felix heard the nickname that you've once given him, he couldn't believe his ears

great job reader, you’ve left him stunned

taking his silence as a response, cause youre kinda a dumbass, you nodded to him and the other boys and left the cafe

however as you made your way to your car

something clicked inside of you

,,,,

fuck it

,,,,

you ran back to the cafe, grabbing the door wide open at the same exact time that felix pushed it open

which caused him to stumble right on top of you, your coffee being thrown a whole meter away

at least it wasn't on your shirt

“omygod im so sorry! are you okay?” he asks, picking you up and checking you for bruises

and youve realized that he hasnt changed one bit

he’s still your best friend felix

the same felix that treats you with so much love and care

the same felix you fell in love with all those years ago

and you couldnt help but let out a tear

this worried felix even more

“what is it?? whats wrong???”

you were blown out sobbing at this point

“Im ๑•́ㅿ•̀๑) ᔆᵒʳʳᵞ ”

“huh??”

“im so sorry felix, i-”

your emotions not allowing you to create a single coherent sentence

but because felix still knew you like the back of his hand, he knew exactly what you were talking about

“lets go inside okay”

all you could do was nod and let him guide you to your usual spot that was now empty

grabbing a couple napkins, he wipes your tears away for you before you finally became conscious of what was happening and took control

“I didnt know you still came to this cafe?” he says, finally breaking the silence

“yeah uhm, i started coming back,”

“why?”

“I-i guess i just missed you”

“I thought you hated me”

“No,” you say quickly, that was the last thing you wanted him to think

“i didnt hate you, i was just angry and sad and i acted upon those emotions. I was stupid, im sorry”

“its okay, i understand, youre not stupid y/n”

god damn it,, 

why is this guy so nice,,

“no felix, it's not okay. we were best friends, i should have talked to you. I-i shouldnt have cut you off like that especially when i didnt even give you a chance to explain yourself”

damn okay reader, admitting to your mistakes, im p r o u d

“Its all in the past now y/n”

“can you forgive me for being a bitch?” 👉👈

This got a chuckle from felix

“as long as you can forgive me for keeping a secret from you” he replies, shooting you a smile

you smile back at him

“ive forgiven you a long time ago lix”

,,,,

,,,,

felix has stopped malfunctioning

“ive missed you,” he says grabbing your hand from across the table and holding it the way he used to

“ive missed you too,,, so much,,, im so proud of you,”

“proud of me?”

“yeah, youve finally done what youve always dreamt of”

“you know?”

“of course i know lix, youre everywhere!”

“it kinda sucks how you know whats been going on in my life and i dont know a single clue about yours”

“I can always catch you up!” you say excitedly, but as you see the sad smile that began to etch his way onto his face, you see that that’s not the case

“busy schedule?” you question

“yeah” he replies, the grip on your hand becoming tighter, almost like he doesnt want to let go

“thats okay, im sure we’ll find some time,” you say maintaining the positive energy

right on cue, chan peeps his head in the door

“Felix we have to go now, i tried convincing them to give you more time but were already running behind schedule”

“aish” felix replies as his tears suddenly made his way down

he gets up and pulls you into a bone crushing hug as you breathe in his scent, taking it all in

“im sorry i have to go so soon”

“thats okay felix, ill always be here”

“i hope i can see you again before I leave,”

“oh dont worry, you will” you say, a big smile on your face

“what do you mean?”

“just watch out for me at the concert, yeah?”

“youre coming???!!!!??”

“yep, already got my ticket!”

and you swear youve never seen felix smile so brightly before

“you pinky promise?”

“I pinky promise.”

[this-is-freeridge]

The Air Between Us

Chapter Ten: Mari spends some time with Trey.

Warning: this fic deals with dark themes, including but not limited to teen pregnancy, rape, drug abuse, murder, abortion, underage drinking and underage sex. Read at your own risk.

Find all chapters here

Note: Hey guys! I know it’s been a while and this is a short update, but I have actually revised this entire story over here on Wattpad! I put a lot of work into editing it in a short time so I just needed a break to rejuvenate my inspiration and motivation. It’d mean a lot if you could all go have a read on Wattpad! :)

Geny cried as she watched Mario drive away. The whole time they were loading boxes into Mario’s car she had been holding back tears but it wasn’t until he was driving away and halfway down the street that the tears had really started. Ruben wasn’t crying, though he looked like he was about to. He was holding Geny tight, grounding her and reminding her that everything would be okay. Reminding the both of them that Mario wasn’t gone forever.

Mari smiled when she looked at them. She had never seen two people so in love and she wanted to have that one day more than anything. Someone who made her feel loved and safe and wanted, something her mother never let her feel. Maybe it was stupid to be so young and want something so permanent, but she didn’t mind being a little stupid. If only she could stop convincing herself she could have that with the one person she wanted.

The twins had hugged Mario’s legs and Mari noticed that’s what almost broke Mario’s carefree facade as his eyes brimmed with tears. He blinked them back, squeezing his eyes shut tight, and then crouched to their level to hug them each one-by-one. He then told them to “scamper, brats,” and they did, but not before they gifted him with a tissue full of their snot. A sweet gesture, Mario thought, but that didn’t stop him gagging and chucking it the moment they were out of sight.

Ruby had just said “later, bro,” and then called Jamal to come and check out his new room before heading to orientation.

Abuelita, never much for unnecessary words, only gave him a hug. At least, that’s all the Martinez family saw. According to a text that Mario had sent Mari later that day, Abuelita had also asked that he bring her back “some of that good weed,”.

Mari didn’t cry. She felt guilty because she was sad he was leaving, and, had he treated her from the start how he did yesterday, she may have been devastated right now. She loved Mario and they seemed to get along well; he could’ve been her best friend and closest confidant had he not decided to speak to her only a day before he left. Maybe she could’ve felt better by now, had less in her mind to deal with, had someone to talk out this Spooky shit with. That was no fault to Mario, by any means - Mari understood his feelings toward her and she was just happy they moved past them. Still, it kinda sucked that the person she had felt most comfortable with, in this entire family, was now gone.

Once Mario was out of sight they went back into the house. Mari made work on the dishes from breakfast so Geny didn’t have to, Jamal arrived with a wave and a “hey, Mari,” before proceeding to Ruby’s room (where they both squealed like little girls and were not subtle about jumping on the bed) and Ruben said he needed to get to work. But then, he stopped in his tracks and he cried.

Mari set the dishes aside, wiped her hands on a small towel and brought him into her arms without a second thought. Her smaller frame and spindly arms probably didn’t provide much comfort but it was everything she had to offer, and she would give it to him. More than once she had seen Ruben staying strong when he looked like he would crumble. Now that he was, Mari wanted him to know that it was okay, that he had support even if it was in the form of an eighteen-year-old girl.

With a sniffle, he smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head.

“Thank you, mija,” he said and then stepped out of the embrace with a shaky exhale, “I am going to be late for work if I don’t leave now. Be good today, I love you,”

The statement made Mari’s chest warm every time she heard it. Her mother never told her she was loved - in fact, had told her the opposite to the point that Mari was sure it was true.

Mari had just finished up the dishes and started to get herself ready to head to the store when the front door opened and a dark-skinned girl with unruly brown curls walked in as though the house was her own. Mari froze and awkwardly glanced around the room for someone who might be able to tell her just who the hell this girl is. Was she an intruder? Did she know the Martinezes?

The girl answered for her when she shot Mari a crooked but welcoming smile.

“Hey,” she greeted, stepping to Mari with a happy bound in her step, “you must be Ruby’s sister, Mari, right? I’m Monse,”

The girl, Monse, offered her hand and Mari took it without hesitation. It felt weird to be shaking hands with a fourteen-year-old girl, but she supposed it was more comfortable than a hug - a thought that Mari expected would be changed in no time. Ruby’s friends were great; so kind and welcoming that it made her feel as though she had always been there. Even Cesar, though he wasn’t on speaking terms with the rest of the squad. Mari already knew Ruby enough not to mention that.

“Yeah,” Mari replied with a smile, “I’ve heard a lot about you from Ruby and Jamal. It’s nice to finally meet you. How was writing camp?”

“It was okay,” Monse said, but the huge smile on her face gave away her nonchalance. “I missed the guys though, it’s good to be back. I feel like I’ve missed everything,”

Mari blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear; she was the everything that Monse had missed. While Mari knew the other girl didn’t mean anything by it, she still hated knowing that, to someone, she was still news.

Monse’s smile dropped and she stammered to apologize.

“Oh, I didn’t mean-”

With a gesture of her hand, Mari waved the apology away.

“It’s cool,” she said and offered Monse a genuine smile, “I was pretty unexpected. I’m sure Ruby will fill you in. The boys are just in Ruby’s room,”

And then, as if on cue, Ruby’s voice piped up.

“Check me out, bitches!” He exclaimed, “I got my own room! My own room,”

The two girls giggled between themselves at Ruby’s excitement.

“I better go,” Monse gestured to Ruby’s new own-room, “let them know I’m back. It was nice to meet you. It might be good to have another girl around,”

“If you ever need anything, you can probably find me at the store,” Mari glanced at the clock on the wall behind Monse and added, “at work, where I’m meant to be now. Shit; I’m late, I gotta run,”

“Go,” Monse flashed an easy smile, one that made Mari feel as though they’d been friends for years, “I’ll make sure Ruby gets to orientation alive,”

Mari was out the door with a grateful “thank you”.

Her first day as someone’s manager and already she was late. Not a very good first impression, though she supposed it wasn’t exactly the first impression. Trey had been adorably smitten upon meeting her, and Mari doubted tardiness was about to change that.

Kicking a dented Coca-Cola can back and forth between his feet and leaning most of his weight casually against the door, Trey was waiting for her to arrive. The bumbling, high-energy boy Mari had once met was gone, and in his place was someone looking weary beyond his years. His skin was tinted red from the sun and his otherwise soft-looking blond locks were matted with sweat, sticking out at odd angles. With a pang of guilt, Mari wondered how long he had been waiting out here in the heat.

“Hey,” Mari dipped her words in sugar, in the hopes that he wouldn’t be mad as she offered her apology. “I’m sorry I’m late; family stuff,”

It wasn’t exactly a lie: Mario leaving, Ruben crying and then Monse turning up. It’d been a busy morning. The excuse was vague and didn’t justify her being almost fifteen minutes late, Mari was banking on Trey’s infatuation to get her off the hook this once. It seemed to work as he looked up at her with a bright smile.

“It’s no biggie,” he shrugged, “I’m sorry I look like I have no sense of personal hygiene. I showered! I swear; I put on body spray and everything! I just, uh, I’m not used to this heat,”

Mari let herself laugh at his reaction. It was cute, she supposed, in a sort of childish way.

“I was exactly the same when I moved here. Come on, let’s get you out of the heat,” she offered her understanding, unlocking the store and heading straight for the standing-fan that acted as air-con.

Once inside, Trey set his backpack down behind the counter and expected her to get right to it: deactivate any security alarms, turn on the lights, set up the register, prepare for the day. Already behind schedule, there was no time to waste. What he didn’t expect was for her to turn around and lock the door once more.

“What are you doing?” He asked, glancing around the store, suddenly nervous and questioning his safety.

“Relax,” she said with a casual smile and a roll of her eyes, “follow me,”

Mari led him behind the counter, through a door labelled STAFF ONLY, past the ‘office’ and the bathroom and through to the stock room. It was small and crowded and filled with boxes - all but two of which were blanketed in dust. Trey figured this was where Mari spent her breaks; alone in the dark, perched atop a cardboard box. He was happily going to change that.

It took most of her strength, but Mari managed to move two of the smaller but heavier boxes aside to reveal a metal sliding door. Grabbing the handle with both hands, she used all her strength to pull the door aside. Trey’s face split into a grin and he looked at her like she *hung the stars*.

“Welcome to the Crystal Fortress,” Mari revealed the cool-room with a flourish of her hands, as though she were one of those game-show girls. “Come on in,”

Trey huffed a laugh but obeyed nonetheless.

“Are we even allowed to be in here?” He asked, though there was another large box in here with a curve in the top that told him this wasn’t the first time Mari hid back here.

She shrugged and closed the door behind them as the younger boy took a seat. “This place...is an anomaly. It makes just enough money to pay us and keep running, but the boss makes nothing. It’s been on the market for years, isn’t it worth anything though. Boss doesn’t really care what we do with it. In fact, I think he’d be pretty pleased if it burned down in the middle of the night. At least he’d get an insurance payout,”

Trey shook his head and leaned back against a wall, closing his eyes and relishing in the cool that immediately flooded his too-hot veins. “Something tells me Freeridge isn’t gonna be the simple town mom had in mind when we moved for a fresh start,”

Tell me about it, Mari thought.

“Why’d you move?”

“Uh,” the blond boy avoided her eyes, his own darkening as he looked anywhere but at her.

Too soon. Got it.

Mari tried again, “where are you from?”

“Brentwood,” he responded with a small smile, one that told her everything she needed to know; if it were up to him, he never would’ve left.

Suddenly, Mari felt as though she were intruding on something personal; intruding on his life. Dusting off her skirt, she cleared her throat and opened the door of the cool-room. Sharing time was over, it was time to leave the fortress and rejoin the real world.

“We better get to work,”

Tag list: @kseniainneverland @lostgirl219 @ravengreystone @robinsdolan @weediskindabad @moistdollerbills @javoqetal @kenzie44469 @goddessate @blackdepressoexpresso @classyputa @babygirl-htx @wonderlandlovelove @cacapoodlepoo @agent-femmefatale @elliesshitofablog @daydreamer0307 @lucyfuh @harduy @elizabeth-santana-98 @lonelyyblues @gangstanappah

[ionlyreadfivebookslastweek]

Bless The Broken Road - 30

Saturday, September 25th.

“What do you think about having a picnic in the park for lunch today?” Spencer asked Jane as they sat at the table eating breakfast.

“That sounds nice, but what’s the occasion?” Jane questioned.

“You know, nice weather,” he stated.

The picnic was...interesting. They ate their lunch and made conversation, but Spencer was acting weird and nervous, just like he did when the pair had first met. After finishing their meal, they laid down on the blanket and Jane rested her head on Spencer’s stomach.

Eventually, she decided to ask him what was going on.

Jane sat up and looked at him. “Spencer, what’s up? You’ve been acting weird all day,” she told him.

He took a deep breath and decided it was time. He stood up and helped Jane to her feet as well. 

Taking her hands, he spoke, “Jane, I love you so, so much. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you feel the same way about me. I don’t know how I ever got so lucky to have the chance to have you as my best friend, let alone my girlfriend. And I hope the day will never come where you decide to leave me, because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Spencer took one hand away from hers to reach into his pocket. “And so,” he paused and got down on one knee. Jane put her free hand to her mouth. “Jane Elizabeth Addison, will you marry me?”

She nodded, tears coming to her eyes before finally shouting out, “Yes! Yes, of course!”

He grinned, putting the ring on her finger before standing so he could kiss her. After breaking the kiss, she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

“I love you,” she breathed into his shoulder.

“I love you, too,” he repeated back.

When she pulled away, she noticed a familiar face approaching them from behind Spencer. 

“Jack!”

“Congratulations, sis!” he cheered, pulling her into a hug. “Spencer asked me to take pictures from a hidden spot in the park,” he explained.

“How long have you two been planning this?” she questioned.

Spencer shrugged, still grinning. “Pretty much since we got back from that case with the brides.”

Something clicked in Jane’s brain as she put the pieces together. That’s why he was so quiet during that case. That’s why he and Jack were hanging out that one day when she got home.

“I don’t want to intrude too much, but I’ll let you know when the pictures are edited and ready to be shared with you,” Jack told them before bidding them goodbye.

Jane turned back to Spencer after Jack left, her grin matching his. “Let’s go back to the apartment, we should call people and tell them the news!” She took his hand and led him home.

They called Jane’s parents first. Next, Jane suggested calling Diana.

“Or I could just write about it in my daily letter,” Spencer suggested.

“Spence, this is something you tell someone over the phone,” she argued.

“What if she’s having a bad day?”

“If that’s the case, we can ask the nurses to call us back when she’s feeling better,” Jane insisted.

“OK,” he gave in with a nod.

Jane dialed the sanitarium and put it on speaker phone. The nurse gave the phone to Diana upon their request.

“Hey, Mom, how are you doing today?”

“I’m good. Did you propose yet?” Diana responded, getting straight to the point of what she wanted to know.

Jane chuckled.

“Yes, I did, Mom. And she said yes!” he cheered, squeezing Jane’s hand.

“Oh, Spencer! That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you two!”

“Thank you, Diana,” Jane spoke, blushing.

When they got off the phone with Diana, they called Jane’s grandma and then decided they’d wait to tell the team in person on Monday.

~~~~~

On the way up the elevator Monday, Jane and Spencer agreed to hide Jane’s ring until they announced their engagement.

The team was sent into the briefing room almost immediately upon arrival.

After the briefing was over and Hotch told them, “Wheels up in 30,” Jane stopped the team from leaving.

“Spencer and I have something to share with the team,” she told everyone as she and Spencer moved to the front of the room. She slipped her hand in her pocket and placed the ring on her hand. She then took it back out and Spencer took her hand, raising it up. “We’re getting married!”

The room erupted in cheers and cries of congratulations. Garcia rushed forward to embrace both of them.

“I am so excited! I have so many ideas to help you plan the wedding. Ooo! I call dibs on planning the bachelorette party!” she cheered.

“And I can plan your bridal shower,” JJ added, also coming to get hugs in.

“Leave the bachelor party up to me,” Morgan grinned, hugging them as well.

Everyone got their hugs and congratulations in and then moved to prepare for the flight to the case.

During the thirty minutes before they had to take off, Jane went to her desk to double check her go bag, ensuring she had everything she needed.

“So,” Spencer spoke. Jane looked up to see him approaching her desk. “Wedding planning.”

“Wedding planning,” she repeated back to him. “I guess it’d be good to get started on that sooner rather than later.”

“I’ve been thinking about it. I do want to have some say in it, but ultimately, I want you to have your dream wedding,” Spencer explained to her.

Jane smiled and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. “That’s so sweet. How about Garcia and I plan it and I’ll keep you updated. If you want something altered, all you have to do is let us know and we can find a compromise.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Spencer said, smiling.

“I’ve actually been thinking about it too, specifically the date,” Jane confessed.

“And?” Spencer raised his eyebrows.

“I was thinking October first of next year. That gives us a little over a year to plan and prepare and we can start off our favorite month with our wedding!” she shared.

“That sounds perfect!” Spencer agreed.

“Yay!” Jane cheered, standing up from her seat. “It’s settled then!” She picked up her go bag and the two headed off to the jet.

~~~

When the team arrived home from the case, Jane asked Garcia to help her plan the wedding.

“Yes, yes, absolutely, yes!” Garcia squealed.

“Great!” Jane laughed.

“We should have a girls night Friday or Saturday to get started!” the blonde suggested.

Jane nodded and then shrugged. “I’m good with either.”

“Make it Friday,” Rossi chimed in as he walked by. They turned to him. “Everyone is invited to my place Saturday night for yours and Spencer’s engagement party.”

Jane’s eyes went wide. “Oh Rossi, you really don’t have to do that!” she insisted.

“Of course I do. You two are like family!” he stated.

Spencer walked up to Jane and put an arm around her before she could object again. “Thank you so much, Rossi,” he told him.

The team agreed to go over to Rossi’s Saturday night and told Jane to invite Jack too.

Just as the team was ready to head home for the night, Hotch got a phone call. Another case had come in.

“Everyone, take an hour to go repack your bags and then meet at the jet. We’ll do the briefing on the flight there,” he ordered them.

After repacking, Jane and Reid decided to take the rest of the time to go grab lunch at a little cafe.

“I think we should figure out who we want to be our bridesmaids/groomsmen before Saturday night so we can ask people,” Jane stated before taking a sip of her coffee.

“OK,” Spencer agreed.

“I was thinking JJ and Penny for sure. What do you think about asking Emily?”

“She would love that!” he told her. “I’ll have Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi for groomsmen with Morgan as best man. So we’re basically having the team be our wedding party,” he chuckled.

“It makes sense though,” Jane stated. “If Morgan’s your best man, then I think I’ll go with Garcia for my maid of honor so they can be paired together. Ooo! I can get together cute little proposal boxes to ask everyone to be part of the wedding party on Saturday night!”

~

The case ended up taking longer than expected, meaning Garcia and Jane were unable to have their girls night on Friday, as the team arrived back late that night.

Saturday morning, Jane created the wedding party boxes.

“Are you making boxes for me too?” Spencer questioned.

“Mmhmm,” she confirmed.

“Don’t you think it’s a little girly?” he asked.

“Yours aren’t as girly. It’ll be fine,” she assured him.

In the evening, they headed to Rossi’s for the party.

The whole team was there as well as Jack to help celebrate their engagement.

Near the end of the dinner portion of the evening, Jane and Spencer stood for a toast, the first of what would be many for the joyful occasion.

“I speak for both of us when I say that I just want to thank you all for being here to celebrate this exciting new chapter in our lives. And a special thanks to Rossi for hosting this beautiful party.” Jane paused and nodded toward him. He raised his glass and nodded back. “You’ve all been there through the ups and downs of our relationship and have given advice and support at different points and we just really love and appreciate all of you so, so much. Cheers to what’s to come!”

“Cheers!” Everyone repeated back, lifting their glasses towards the middle of the table and clinking them with those around them.

Spencer pulled Jane in for a quick kiss before they sat back down.

Later in the night, Jane handed out the boxes and everyone loved them, each of them accepting their respective roles the couple asked them to take on in their wedding party.

“And we shipped a box overseas to Emily to ask her to be a bridesmaid as well,” Jane informed them.

“Oh! That’ll be so great!” Garcia cheered.

As everyone chatted excitedly about the wedding, Jane caught Jack’s eye and gestured for him to follow her off to the side of the room.

“We want you to have a part in the wedding in some way too,” Jane told him. “What would you like to do? You could be a reader, an usher, or you know what? You could get licensed to be the officiant!”

“That would be really cool!” Jack agreed.

“Great!” Jane cheered, giving her brother a hug.

~~~

Over the next few months, Jane and Garcia worked to plan all of the details of the wedding, consulting Spencer occasionally.

Jane and Spencer agreed on having Henry be the ring bearer in the ceremony. As there weren’t any little girls in either of their families or their BAU family, they chose to have Shortstack be the flower dog instead.

As the wedding would take place in autumn, the color scheme chosen was one that would fit well with the fall foliage; burgundy, orange and of course Spencer’s favorite color, purple.

One weekend, the couple, along with Garcia, took a drive to look at different wedding venue options. They were able to find a beautiful, rural location that would be perfect for an outdoor wedding. The location had plenty of trees surrounding a clearing that would provide them with plenty of leaves to help naturally decorate the area.

One day, the couple got permission to get off from work early in order to go to an appointment for a cake tasting. Just as they were getting ready to head out, a case came in.

“Don’t you worry,” Garcia assured them. “I will get it rescheduled as soon as the case is over.”

Jane felt lucky that Garcia was the one handling most of their organization of the planning. She was one of the few who understood rescheduling appointments, unlike other planners had they hired a professional wedding planner to do it.

~

Towards the end of January, Jane decided she wanted to start working out more and asked JJ if she’d like to work out together.

“Is there a reason you’re wanting to work out more?” JJ questioned. “You know Spencer doesn’t care how fit you are.”

“I know that,” Jane assured her. “I just want to look my best for the wedding,” she explained.

~

Monday, February 7th, 2011.

Jane was doing cool down stretches in the living room when Spencer entered the room, still in his pajamas.

“Janey, what are you doing?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I thought I’d get a work out in before we have to go to work in case a case comes up,” she told him.

"Why have you been into exercising lately?” he questioned.

“I want to look the best that I can for the wedding,” she stated, stretching her arms.

“Jane, you look beautiful no matter what. You don’t have to exercise to look good. You always look amazing.”

Jane smiled at him and shook her head. “I know you think that, but I just want to do this for myself.”

She finished up stretching and took a drink of water from her glass on the coffee table. Spencer moved towards her, wanting to hug her, but she pulled back.

“Spencer, I’m all gross and sweaty right now.”

“I don’t care,” he insisted, moving to hug her anyway.

She allowed him to hold her for a moment before stepping back and announcing she was going to go shower and get ready for work.

“Alright. Why don’t I make breakfast while you do that?”

“Sounds great!” she cheered before walking off.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bless The Broken Road Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@cynbx @neon-deanmon @drw0301bieber @notsosmartbutcute​ @banananna99 @lydklein1

[nny11writes]

Declarations, Mental Health, and Other Things You Never Asked Me to Explain About Myself but I’m Gonna Anyways

Ok, it's been almost a year since my last update on this and I wanted to explain myself a bit? And also share my story a bit??? 

This is all personal stuff so no need to read if you can’t handle it right now or don’t want to handle it. You’re not obligated to, but I felt it was important to share all this.

Here’s hoping the “Keep Reading” link works!

cw: anxiety, depression, mental health, suicidal ideation, nightmares

SO. Last year I had been working in a hostile working environment under an abusive supervisor for 2 years. One of the things I had done a right before I got that job (and was unemployed, depressed, and heavily suicidal) was I picked up writing fanfiction again. I had been in about a two or three year dry spell where I was writing fanfiction but never posting. Just writing it for me. And then I'd unceremoniously dropped all after posting a Mass Effect fic that had great response/reviews. Because the pressure was too much for me.

I found SW: TCW while unemployed and desperately seeking something to help lift my spirits and distract me from my known but untreated mental health. I wanted VERY desperately to find something enjoyable in life again. I was literally only alive because I was afraid of where my cat would be placed when I died. I kept seeing interesting meta posts from MyLordShesaCactus and AlexKablob about someone called Barriss Offee and someone called Ahsoka Tano. Deciding that I had literally nothing to lose I gave the show a watch.

It was a lifeline. During a time where I regularly had nightmares of being a robot that was torn apart and decommissioned, or dreams where I'd barely nick myself and suddenly start bleeding out, SW TCW became an obsession. I was years too late to the fandom but I still found active people and love for this girl who was a little Too Much and a little Too Pushy and a little Too Scared to Fail. Ahsoka hits all my bingo slots for characters I project heavily onto. And soon enough my nightmares, while still consistent, were no longer a given. Sometimes I dreamed about star wars instead. The first time I had a dream where I WAS Ahsoka Tano I woke up and cried because I'd felt so good.

Then I got hired in what I thought was a life affirming and saving way, and instead was shoved into a different kind of hell. I became so depressed that first year that I self harmed by starving myself and denying myself sleep. Which, of course, makes it worse. I started writing "Twilight" as a way to cope with my increasing intrusive thoughts about suicide and physical self harm. Then it became a way to deal with intrusive thoughts about wanting to harm others. I needed an outlet and was denying that I need medication to manage my mental health.

I didn’t expect anyone to read it and like it. I thought people would hate it. Because it was awful because I’m awful, and therefore nothing I did could be good.

But people did like it. A lot.

Then I was escorted to Psychiatric Emergency Services because I wanted to kill myself on the job. The whole episode is a little weird in my mind, time warped a bit and I remember crying nonstop and being unable to stop shouting, but when I look back what I remember most is feeling completely calm. Calm and soft and light. I think that was due to me finally verbalizing my thoughts and seeing that others did care. That I wasn’t some worthless pest to them. When I got to PES enough time passed that I got my panic attack under control, and when a psychiatrist finally saw me I downplayed the whole incident out of fear I was going to be institutionalized. I was scared as fuck in my little temp room in my little plastic chair staring at my hospital band and desperately hoping that none of the other people there would talk to me. So when I saw professionals I lied. I got a doctor’s note to stay out of work for two days and went home.

I finally had to admit to myself that I was not doing well. I was not handling my anxiety or depression. I was not ok and that it was ok to not be ok.

I was still scared to get professional help.

Instead, I spent that November participating in NaNoWriMo, where I wrote what would later become the first several chapters of “The Apprenticeship”. The first installment to the Close But No Cigar AU. I decided that I wanted and needed to write something that was happier. Ahsoka Tano made me happy and I wanted to do something good, anything good (for once in my fucking life). And convinced that I’d never done a good thing and never could, I decided to do a good thing first for a fictional character. So in I went to a story where Ahsoka Tano was an anxious wreck of a person, but had support and help and love. Into a world where Anakin Skywalker got the sort of help he needed. A place where they could all still meet and be friends and be family. Not somewhere with no pain, but somewhere softer.

The next month I finally got a PCP, and at the ass crack of 2017 I finally got medicated again.

I had already posted the first chapter of The Apprenticeship and energized by the meds and the reviews I got hard to work on finishing that story.

Funny thing about medicine, it’s a hassle and often the first thing you take is a unique struggle that requires adjustment. My first medication seemed great! For about two weeks! Then I developed a hand tremor so serious I couldn’t feed myself. That night I seriously struggled to not drive my car into the oncoming traffic lane and avoided all bridges on my way home from work. What I took helped my depressive symptoms but made my anxiety worse. The hand tremor was also a serious and rare side effect. The next day I was off that medicine and on a new one along with gabapentin to help the tremors.

Writing was difficult as fuck with my fingers shaking and twitching on the keyboard but I needed it as much as my medicine.

The new stuff worked out much better for me, we tweaked the dosage and I’m still on it. I’m glad to be on it!

Let’s do a little time skip shall we? That summer, a year after my experience at PES, I started writing Declarations. I wanted to see more Ahsoka & Obi-Wan content. They seemed like two people who should be close friends, have more of a father-daughter relationship, and general be together more than they were on screen. I found the idea of two Temple raised Jedi, who seem to break a bit from the mold and thinking of the Order, exploring their feelings for one another to be fascinating. I quickly realized that it would work really well to show that they are both mentally ill as well. I don’t like the term “mental illness” but it is accurate so I use it.

So I seeded it in from the start. I wanted to have two good people with anxiety and depression and PTSD and who knows what else find each other and help each other out! I wanted Ahsoka and Obi-Wan to be happy damn it!

So I started writing the story I wanted to see.

And unwittingly did what I had already been doing, pouring my own personal self into the story.

I’m not saying that putting some of yourself into your writing is bad, it really isn’t! Writing can be an amazing tool to explore your own experiences and sort your own feelings. I had been using it for over a year at that point to help cope with my own awful experiences, many of which I was still having to live with and through.

What happened for me is that I put a little too much of myself into this story. At the same time I was doing that my supervisor had gotten even stranger and in some ways worse. I didn’t have daily dread of being fired but I still had daily dread over who I would find when I arrived. My supervisor came in two flavors: Angry and Blaming, or Sweet and Frivolous. I still can’t decide if she was really just that abusive or if she also could use a helping hand in the mental health department. I really can’t. She did abuse me verbally and emotionally at work, she did gaslight me, she did scare me. I’m not saying that she wasn’t an abuser at all but I just don’t know if she was that way because she needs help too.

I hope she gets help if she needs it. But I’ll be grateful if I never have to see her again in my life.

Back to Declarations.

I put too much in and it had great reviews and lots of love, and I got very nervous and defensive over it. Too defensive and nervous over it. I really want to shout out to White_Ithiliel again, because she really helped me make this fic A LOT BETTER. Like, A LOT. Y’all don’t even realize what she has saved you from!! In the process she also has had to deal with my wild anxiety issues and defensiveness.

Seriously, thank you for everything you’ve done for this fic and your endless patience with me!

The latest chapter I wrote in the spring of 2018, we started going back and forth with edits in the summer, and then I panicked over a good question and point she made. She wrote back and I very nervously peeked at her cropped response (the “show less” version) sometime around October 2018. My abusive supervisor had left but I had been asked to work with/under another lady who wasn’t not my supervisor. She was almost equally bad in another direction for me. My anxiety spiked and my depression got terrible again around the time we were working on this chapter. I saw literally half a sentence and read it weirdly, panicked, had a good cry, and closed the document.

I literally haven’t been in the head space to look at it since then.

My best friend moved in with me that fall, but he’d just had a suicide attempt a few month before. My own mental health, as I mentioned, was plummeting. This past winter my depression got out of hand. I stopped going to my band practices, I nearly stopped writing, I was exhausted. The only reason I didn’t go back to eating poorly and treating myself like shit was because he was there, and just having someone be physically there who I knew cared about me made a huge difference. If I had popcorn for dinner too often, he’d make us a frozen pizza. If I drank too much (and I abused alcohol this past winter for sure), he was there to help me with the hangover and violent sickness. Thank god for my best friend! My suicidal ideation went up but I didn’t become suicidal. This was the first winter in almost a decade where I haven’t wanted to seriously kill myself at some point. I had flashes of it, moments where the bottom of the world dropped out but they lasted for minutes or hours instead of weeks and months.

I talk to him a lot about my fics and fandoms, and he very patiently listens and helps me work through it all. He lets me read him what I’ve written or what I’m reading if I think it’s funny, and we talked a lot about this chapter of Declarations and my reaction to a sincere question regarding its content and characterizations. He offered to look at the chapter with me and see what my editor/beta’s response had actually been versus what I was afraid it was.

I turned him down in November for that because I realized I needed space and time away from this particular fic. This story where I made myself into Ahsoka and Obi-Wan and Anakin, which I could no longer separate the fictional world I had created from the emotions I was feeling about my “real life”.

White_Ithiliel, I am so SO sorry I never responded. I know my silence was probably anxiety inducing too. I want to say again that you didn’t do anything wrong or rude or mean to me. I just wasn’t mentally in a place to be doing what I was doing, and needed to turn myself off and on again.

Today, after having a full week of writing and nearly daily updating fics I enjoy I realized that my life has changed since winter.

I am at a new job with wonderful people that I really enjoy. It pays better so I’m also less stressed about money. My benefits finally kick in today and I plan on getting me a therapist soon along with a new PCP. I’m doing alright. I’m doing better than I have in years.

A huge part of that is thanks to having people PM me here on tumblr and being so genuinely enthusiastic about the stories that I write. So here’s to you all for helping me through my funk over the years, giving me ideas, and giving me a damn good laugh! dontcallmebugaboo

thirdbroomstick

woeful-woods

bobkitten

Gabby(Kirasoka)

And of course ithiliel-the-french-tolkiendil (AKA White_Ithiliel)

Y’all have been life savers, maybe even more so than I realized until I decided to write this whole crazy thing out!

Thanks to all of you, even those who just leave me a kudos or a like, I’ve been trucking along. Fandom has literally saved my life multiple times, and probably will again.

So today, feeling high on my new found writing powers, I finally went in and finished editing for the latest chapter of Declarations! Hell yeah me! :D

That said! I’m putting it on a formal hiatus!

I have the next chapter written (not edited) and several chapter ideas throw out on the page, but I also think I still need more time away from this story. I want to finish Declarations (y’all don’t understand how BADLY I WANT TO FINISH IT), but I also know that right now, where we are, we are literally on SEASON ONE, EPISODE 2.

Legit the next chapter takes place after the malevolence (AKA Episode 2 of season 1).

And we are currently over 32k in.

This is gonna be a long ass haul fic everybody. I didn’t expect it to be, I didn’t mean it to be, I wasn’t planning on it. I meant for it to be maybe 10 chapters and be super vague about the timeline.

But I think I’m just as much in love with this story as a lot of you are and dang it I want more! That means I have to write more, and that means I need to give myself space to actually be approaching it as a story.

And not as something I wish was happening in my life.

To anyone still reading, thank you, this thing was long than some of the stories I’ve written! But I wanted to share this. Yes, to explain why Declarations is currently in carbonite. But more importantly to talk about mental health.

Mental health fucking sucks my dudes. It’s hard and it’s messy and sometimes it comes out of nowhere and then leaves after eating your favorite snacks and cold clocking you at 3 AM.

I’ve been on a hell of a journey.

And a lot of you are too.

I’m not “tumblr famous” and I don’t think I’m any sort of well known fandom writer. But There’s enough of you out there that I wanted to post this in case you need to know that you’re not alone out there.

If any of you EVER need to talk, please shoot me a message! I’m legit down to talk about my fics, about your fics, about meta, theories, characters, what ifs, AU’s, etc. I’m ALSO legit down to talk about mental health and all the messy things that come with that. If you want to chat with someone about your fears, your ideation, your intrusive thoughts, HIT ME UP!

You’ve all been here for me, even though you didn’t know it.

I’d like to return that favor. So anytime, anyplace, please hit me up. I promise, nothing you’ve done is unacceptable or beyond the line. 

After all, in case you’d like a breakdown of the way I had a breakdown this last year, in the span of 10 hours I literally: 

Accidentally self inserted myself into a fic and didn’t realize it until asked about why characters were acting that way, got angry over someone not knowing what I didn’t even know especially when it wasn’t explicit, then immediately felt like the Worst Person ever for getting mad and anxious, went home and cried ugly sobs on my cat, debated if I deserved to live before immediately deciding that DUH OF COURSE I DO, but that I was just a sad sack and everyone knew it, ate one single can of vienna sausage directly out of the can for dinner, washed it down with waaaay too much box wine, cried again about fictional characters because I had “ruined” them, asked my best friend (drunkenly mind you) if I was a good person because I thought I was secretly the worst and a manipulator b/c I self inserted myself into my own fanfiction, and then spent the next 6 months or so anxiously opening and closing my google doc in fear of What I Might Learn About Myself or worse the discovery that I Had Been A Bad Person b/c I stated my thought process out clearly but obviously that’s just “mean” to do because I am a bad and can’t not do mean or something! 

Like...I get why I did it but fucks sake me. It took a lot of broken logic to get there. Looking back I don’t know how I did that actually. This is a self call out. I am @ing myself.

So, yeah.

Not sure how to end this. So...uh, feel free to talk to me if you want to!

[thechampagnelovers]

Please blog about hp when you read them, I love talking about so much hahaha. I really wish I would be following more blogs on here that focus on hp but it would take time to get into it and find good blogs. I still struggle with that even in this fandom. So many people I follow have problems with each other and I am just so confused? Like I just want to follow decent people and have a good time and it‘s hard so I take time off as much as I can (as I said multiple times I know) and just come on here to reblog cute things like YOUR LYRIC EDIT! Cuuuuuuuute! Such a nice present for your friend. 🥺🥺🥺

While scrolling through your reblogs - all so cute I swear - I did see something we don‘t have in common though so I thought I’d tell you, just to spice things up: I can‘t get into Taylor Swift. I was such a die hard fan the first two albums (I was so fucking little lol) and then she started heavily on the pop and then I just lost her? I mean I understand her talent and lyrically she is really amazing but she ist just nobody I can or want to listen to. Okay kill me now hahaah. How did you come to like her music? Maybe give me three of your favourite songs and I promise to try again. 😅

Moooving on: I can only imagine how cool it must be to become friends with someone over creating something together. That is a really good foundation for friendship or at least connection because you automatically have to get personal and open up, right? At least that‘s how I see it... It‘s one of the things I wish I had in my life. Sharing my creativity with others, even friends, you know?

A comfort album... yes absolutely! 🥺

I have a 1D Playlist where I have all their songs collected and when I put that on I just let it run through and I don‘t really get to the point where I can skip because it‘s like a Mood™️ if that makes sense haha. But yeah I totally get that you‘d only trust Niall with Little Things and he would never let you down. When Liam sang it I was like „Nice, thanks for the memories, amazing vocals“ ajsklsn. Maybe I should start hating some songs too, builds personality hahah.

I am so sorry you had such a weird weekend. And sorry you had those cramps again. 😫 I am already dreading mine. 😭 Why did you stop taking the pill, if you don‘t mind answering that? I stopped because I couldn‘t handle the hormones at all. I hope you get this figured out! Please keep me updated. 💓 Oh and I think you have a healthy relationship with crying and it‘s good to be open about it! If it helps I cried today too, yayyy! Is there anything I can do to cheer you up though maybe? Oh and tell me why your book is depressing? We should opening a book club honestly. I am currently crying over rwrb, I finally got some time to really get into it and am almost finished and... NOT OK. Wow okay I have been ranting again. Hope you had a better day! x

I definitely will! When I get back home I’ll read them and I can tag the posts, it’s gonna be so fun! I don’t follow hp blogs :/ I think I follow just one but I don’t even remember the url sjdhjd

If you need chill people to follow I recommend all my mutuals! I’m a strong advocate in having a curated online experience and most of my mutuals are drama free blogs 🤍

Thank you beer nony 🥺🥺🥺I just realised I never made you anything for your bday 😔😔😔 I’m so so so so sorry skdjjdjd next edit is dedicated to you, and I’m also gonna make something for tee! Lately all my post are gifts for mutuals and I love that

I won’t kill you JDHDJD it’s okay, I like Taylor but I’m nowhere near a hardcore stan so I don’t really mind it, also I understand what you’re saying, albums like 1989 and reputation are completely pop and tbh they’re not my fav albums lol 😳 although they both have songs that I LOVE, she never misses. Two of my best friends are swifties, and me and my other best friend are 1d stans so everytime we hang out we play taylor and 1d dkdhdjdj that’s kinda how it happened I think

If you miss the old taylor, my recommendations is ofc folklore and evermore! Cozy comfort albums, goes back to her roots a little bit more, it’s definitely not pop. My fav album is red for sure, and I know you don’t like her pop music but lover is just spectacular and you can’t miss it

Top songs for me are (in no particular order) red, the story of us, miss Americana, state of grace, holy ground, the lakes, no body no crime, champagne problems, gold rush, come back be here, New Romantics and getaway car! And I’m sure I’m missing so many gems too! But yeah, if you want to give her a second chance, red, lover and evermore are my recommendations! And you can check out the folklore online concert on disney+

Ohhh nony 🥺🥺🥺 you’re right, it’s a very nice feeling, and that’s how I always make friendships really djjfjd idk other ways to interact :/ and you can do it! I would love to see what you make, maybe it’s harder irl but online you can make so many friends sharing your art! And I would love to see it

Djdhjdjd I totally get the mood feeling, bc it is a vibe for sure 🤍 ugh I love Niall, he’s the only man I trust

Thank you nony! This time I didn’t suffer near as much as the last time but still not fun. I stopped bc of some logistic problems with the pharmacy djdjdj and I wasn’t really having sex so why bother yk? (Funny story the other day my ex asked me if I wanted to go to his house and I had a full breakdown that made me delete my Instagram so, yeah, that’s my sex life). Besides a little breakout on my skin once in a while I didn’t have many side effects but now I’m really struggling with it now. Mine have a very little dose of hormones so it didn’t affect me much, but yeah some pills can be so bad :( I’m sorry to hear that, and don’t worry I’ll keep you updated

Yay crying 🤍 lol djdhdjd idk if I have a healthy relationship with crying, it’s either nothing or all at once but I’m getting better with it.

The book is about very triggering stuff that I really don’t want to mention bc I would have to filter this post and I don’t feel like it skdhdjdhd but it ended on a nice note, so it’s okay

I had a great day today! Honestly yesterday was the stress and the hormones acting up on me, now I’m more chill and I feel better, so thank you love 🤍 enjoy your week!

[auroraphilealis]

Metamorphosis (1/10)

Metamorphosis (1/10) | Once upon a time, Dan Howell and Phil Lester were best friends. They did everything together, from hanging out at each other’s house, to sitting next to each other at school - but one day, Dan was torn away from Phil by none other than Phil himself. Five years on, and Dan still doesn’t know why his best friend threw Dan away. Was it the fault of the bullies who relentlessly picked on Phil, or was it Dan himself? Dan just didn’t know. So when a chance to protect Phil and get his best friend back arises, Dan jumps on it in a heartbeat, and uses his own confidence to boost Phil’s just enough to make the bullies back away. | Phan | Teen and Up | High School AU, Bullying, Getting Together, Make Over Fic, Kissing Booth, Kissing Lessons | 2,641 Words this chapter 

Disclaimer: In no way do I pretend that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

This has been a roller coaster to work on, and I loved every second of it. It is truly the fluffiest thing I have ever written, and I truly hope that you guys will enjoy it as it goes up these next few months. As the entire fic has been pre-written, I will be posting on Wednesdays and Saturdays every week! If you’d like to receive writing updates, chapter snippets, or even be given the chapter a whole day earlier than everyone else, please consider pledging to my patreon, which can be found here!

I would also like to give special thanks to my beta @etoilesdephan for her wonderful help editing this fic. Their feedback has made me incredibly happy and, of course, they’ve done the gracious work of fixing my typos hahaha. Thank you phantom <333

(Ao3) 

Chapter One

Once upon a time, Dan Howell and Phil Lester were best friends. They did everything together, from hanging out at each other’s houses, to sitting next to each other at school. They were absolutely inseparable, and for a long time, Dan had thought it would always be like that. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without Phil by his side, and he didn’t want to.

That’s why it came as such a shock to him when he went from seeing Phil every single day, laughing and teasing him on the playground and wrestling him for the video game controller in each other’s rooms, to not even knowing what his best friend had done over summer vacation.

It happened insanely quickly. They were eleven years old, and the school year was just coming to a close. Phil had, at one point that year, attempted to dye his hair a ridiculous shade of red when it came out orange, and while Dan had thought it was hilarious and loved the way it brought out the freckles on Phil’s pale skin, the rest of the school had taken this as an excuse to tease him even more than they already did.

He went from getting bullied from time to time when he was alone and Dan wasn’t around to give the older kids a dirty look, to being poked fun at by even the kids in their grade and below. Phil skyrocketed from that weird boy that sometimes walked the playground alone with the hood of his black jacket pulled up over his head, muttering something about “the shadow world,” to being that freak with the orange hair who bred hamsters and didn’t know how to speak up for himself.

It was horrid, and while Dan did his best to push away the people who tried to hurt his best friend, he couldn’t be there to protect Phil from everything, no matter how badly he wished he could be. See, Dan Howell, in opposition to Phil, was actually pretty well liked by most of their school, confident and just dramatic enough to make all the other kids laugh, but nice enough not to make any waves. Much of their grade questioned why Dan was even friends with a freak like Phil, but Dan had always only answered that Phil wasn’t a freak, and that if people just took the time to get to know him, they’d see that too.

The issue was, Phil was kind of an odd ball, even Dan could admit to that. He had a different way of seeing the world, a creativity that rivaled even Dan’s, and while that was something Dan loved and cherished about Phil, it wasn’t so easily accepted by the rest of their school.

So Dan did his best to protect Phil, never wanting to see his best friend change, or hurt himself because of the horrible actions of others. However, that didn’t mean that Dan could always be there to protect Phil, and it was no surprise that sometimes, Dan didn’t have enough time to prevent Phil from getting his ass kicked behind the playground, face shoved into the dirt and eyes watering from the sensation of his glasses being forcibly pressed into his skin.

Of course, that day, the final day of the year, Dan found himself cornered in the classroom by a bunch of classmates who insisted they needed a signature from Dan, because they’d all be moving off to secondary school after that summer, and some of them might never see Dan again. Unaware of anything strange going on, Dan had laughed and agreed to sign all their yearbooks, only to realize, far too late, that Phil was nowhere to be seen. The thing was, Phil was quiet, and often Dan forgot he was even around, when other people were talking, but he never went anywhere without Dan. Sometimes, Dan thought Phil was like a lost puppy, trailing after him and begging for attention, something Dan was always willing to give despite wishing Phil were more confident and sure in the friendship the two of them held.

When Dan realized Phil wasn’t there, of course, he figured out what exactly was going on.

“Where’s Phil?” he remembered himself asking, dropping the pen he’d been holding to sign yet another yearbook, and instantly shoving past the few remaining classmates in front of him in order to get out of the classroom. No one answered him, but that was answer enough, and Dan had taken off running through the sliding glass door of their old classroom out towards the playground behind the school, likely unmonitored that afternoon because school was officially out, and summer was about to start.

He was right, of course. Before he even reached the back of one of the slides, where older students were known to take their victims, Dan could hear Phil crying out as he was likely shoved into the dirt. There were other voices, shouting teasing, hurtful words, but Dan couldn’t hear a word of what they were saying for the way his heart was breaking at the sound of Phil’s near screams. He could feel his chest clenching, and he was screaming profanities inside of his own head for being so stupid as to have not made sure Phil was still there.

How had Dan let this happen?

Dan only really remembers tackling the older boys after that, the sensation of his own body hurling into the back of another, and sending them both tumbling to the floor. A fight had broken out, and Dan remembered getting his ass kicked for the very first time while, beside him, Phil cried for them to leave Dan alone.

Dan had given as good as he got, but in the end, he was left on the ground, outnumbered, and with a mix of a bloody nose and a black eye.

Phil had walked him home, and that had been the last time they spoke.

The very next day, Dan remembered waking up early and going over to Phil’s house despite his mum’s protests, only for Phil’s mum to answer the door and tell Dan uncertainly that Phil wasn’t feeling well enough for visitors right now. He’d tried again, and again, and again for a week straight, before learning that Phil had asked to visit his grandparents for the summer, and wouldn’t be home until after school started once again.

Dan had written letters that Phil’s mum promised to send, but there was something about the look on her face that told Dan she knew something that Dan did not, and that she hurt for him. The first time she told Dan that she hoped he could one day help Phil like he always had in the past, Dan finally realized that it was the end.

He waited with baited breath for Phil to show up on the first day of class, only to realize by the end of the day that Phil had gone out of his way to avoid him. The last thing he remembered clearly was the sight of Phil’s broken, sad face, as he ran straight home after school without so much as a glance backwards at Dan, who’d shouted after him to wait.

Dan never could figure out what happened that day, or why Phil had decided to stop being Dan’s friend. He didn’t understand why Phil no longer thanked him when Dan tried to save him from the bullies, or why, once, he turned on Dan and told him to get the fuck away from him, and never get in the way again. He didn’t understand how he and Phil could go from being so close they were practically one person, to becoming so different some people even forgot they’d ever been friends.

It hurt. It hurt a lot, and it was hard, but eventually, Dan got the message. For whatever strange reason, Phil didn’t want Dan protecting him anymore, didn’t even want to know him, and while Dan knew it was the fault of the bullies, he’d never forgive himself for having done something to turn Phil against him. Was it because Dan hadn’t been there to save him in the first place, that afternoon when the bullies managed to get Phil alone? Had the bullies said something to Phil about Dan that had made Phil turn on him?

Dan didn’t know, and he probably wouldn’t ever know, but that didn’t prevent him from hoping.

So Dan Howell passed every year from the age of eleven to sixteen praying that, one day, Phil would come back into his life, and he’d be able to protect the boy he’d always considered the best person in the whole entire world.

In the meantime, Dan finally started branching out and making new friends, all while he watched Phil disappear further and further into the shadows until it was almost impossible to make sure he even still existed, except for the few times Dan saw him peeking out through the curtains of his bedroom window and out over at Dan’s, like there was still a part of him that missed Dan too.

They’d been next door neighbors for so long that Dan was actually almost surprised that, by the time they were finally forced together again, it hadn’t happened any sooner.

In the Fall of year twelve, Phil Lester unexpectedly joined the theater club, and the only reason Dan even noticed him was the fact that literally every single person but Phil had grouped up on one side of the large auditorium the first day of their meeting, and were whispering about the weird, dark boy they’d never seen before. Dan wandered in with his brow furrowed, heading straight for the strange group, when he felt his shoulder bump into the body of someone he hadn’t even noticed was there.

“Sorry,” he said rather quickly, turning to offer an awkward smile to the person he’d run into, and frowning as the entire auditorium seemed to go quiet. “I didn’t see you there, uhm,” Dan started, trailing off as he waited for the other person to give him their name, only they never answered.

Instead, they dropped their face further away from Dan, as if they were ashamed to be seen by him, and only then did Dan realize it was Phil.

He was dressed in the same black hoodie Dan swore Phil had owned since he was eleven, except it couldn’t be because Phil had grown almost as tall and lanky as Dan and the thing still fit, and he had his hood up, hiding the mousy brown of his ridiculously long hair. His glasses were thick rimmed and roundish, mostly hidden by his fringe, and his face was even more pale than Dan remembered.

His hands were stuck in his pockets, and his backpack pressed tight against his back, flat, like he’d taken to carrying very little in case he was jumped.

Dan’s jaw dropped open.

“Phil?” he asked tentatively. He could feel his heart in his throat, constricting his airways, because what was Phil doing here? Did he know this was the theater club? Had he come to see Dan? Unsure, Dan reached out to take Phil’s arm in his, wanting to pull the boy close and drag him into a long needed hug - it had been so long since Phil had been close enough for Dan to touch, after all - only, before Dan could touch him, Phil jerked back and stumbled so hard, he fell flat on his ass, his hood falling back and his hair splaying everywhere, exposing the red of his heated cheeks.

His eyes were just as blue as Dan had remembered them, but they were gazing up at Dan in horror.

“Okay, break it up you two, that’s enough! Really, Daniel, I expected more from you!” Mrs. Gio suddenly shouted, sweeping into the auditorium at exactly the wrong time. Dan’s gaze snapped up from where Phil sat, practically trembling on the floor, as if he were afraid of Dan, back to his teacher with his mouth half open with the intent to explain.

Before he could, however, or even turn back to help Phil up off of the floor, the rest of the theater group behind him burst into explanations, screaming that Dan had just been trying to be nice when Phil had shoved at him and fallen to the ground himself. Dan felt his cheeks beginning to go red as he worked to get in a word edgewise, begging the others to stop, that that wasn’t what had happened, but the others were too loud for him. Mrs. Gio looked thunderstruck and a little overwhelmed, blinking wildly at the loud shouting around her, before finally she burst out with a loud “Enough!” that shut the entire room up.

“I don’t care whose fault it was,” she admonished the group, “I expect better from all of you than to harass any of the other students here, let alone a new member this year. You’re all going to be working together for the next twelve months, so you better be ready to get along!” she said.

Mortified, Dan turned back to Phil with the full intent of helping him back up off the ground, only to find that Phil had already gotten up and had retreated further away from the group, hiding his face, and clearly trying once more to fade into the shadows.

Dan bit his lip, unsure what he was meant to do. The drama teacher answered this for him, however, and before he knew it, she was clapping her hands and ordering everyone to sit in the chairs in front of her in a large group, and listen up. Dan and the others shuffled about, with Dan’s friends coming and insisting he sit with them, laughing and making jokes about summer that Dan couldn’t help responding to, all while Phil managed to find a seat still near enough to Mrs. Gio not to get in trouble, but far enough away from the rest of the group that it almost looked like he didn’t even belong.

As Mrs. Gio started talking about the two performances they were going to be putting on that year, Dan couldn’t help wondering what Phil was even doing there. He’d always been creative, sure, but Dan had never known him to be confident enough to actually perform in a play. In fact, Phil looked so out of place that Dan couldn’t imagine Phil’s confidence had grown any stronger.

Dan had always seeked to fix that when they were kids, but it had been hard work. He’d never once given up, but he’d always refused to push Phil, and now, here they were, so close and yet so far, and Dan wanted nothing more than to drag Phil into the group and make him loved. He had the most amazing mind that Dan had ever known, and despite how they’d grown apart, Dan knew that that much, at least, could not have changed.

He found his eyes following every one of Phil’s movements for the rest of the afternoon, but never once did Phil meet his gaze. Slowly but surely, Dan felt his heart sink ever more, and sighed as Mrs. Gio dismissed them and Phil took off like a ghost.

The others laughed and snickered at the new weird guy, asking what his name was again, and making fun of the way his hair hung in his face and the ugly pair of spectacles he chose to wear. Dan, all the while, did his best to tune the others out, and shuffled out of the school building to head home. He could only hope that, as time wore on, he’d finally get the chance to be friends with Phil again.

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