#Im so ill over this habit of his and im so ill over the ghost family ep. god.....

[krashoutluv]

Arkham Knight Relationship HCS !! <3

( light nsfw, mostly SFW tho!! )

literally my wife ( i made this pic idc abt creds i just wanna talk abt it)

SFW !! <3

dying on this hill when i say basically any red hood would be soo yummy with a civilian or just someone who is extremely balanced.

im a red hood needs more fucking normalcy in his life TRUTHER.

relationship starts off slow, romantic and platonic, you need to be patient with him long enough for him to get over his mental dilemmas to feel ANY-TYPE of way towards you.

more then like 6 months lets be real yall

his way of bonding is quality time. ill die on this hill, especially at the start of the relationship. Nothing huge maybe just spending a couple extra minutes around you before leaving.

next is probably gift giving, esp with early relations, probably just gonna order you food or put fifty bucks on your countertop. you dont even notice until you realize you find a fifty around the last place he was standing. expect deliveries from R.H whenever he feels bad for something.

doesn't like being around for too long, feels like he's messing up something. ruining your day by keeping you up late (he was there for fifteen minutes), ruining your mood, (there was an awkward silence for like 30 seconds.)

not a overly conscious thought process though, he feels physically he isn’t supposed to be there. for whatever subconscious thing he picked up on, a awkward silence, or hes been there 15 minutes too long or something

well sometimes he'll mentally beat himself up.

he spirals a lot, needs someone to pull him out of that.

i think when he needs to be grounded, its not just comfort its making him feel alive in the present moment. he's never gonna truly forget about his traumas but maybe for just an hour or two; running around an arcade, walking around the city. just making him feel normal, yeah you BAGGED his ass quick.

he needs someone patient, really patient, someone whos very attentive and empathetic. (but not a complete push- over def needs someone to set him in line still)

i think if you move to quickly, he'll get super snappy and ghosting you,, ong put ur hands on him too early and he's left hooking you.

yeah you're waking up and the first thing your hearing is "Its been 12 years..."

second thing you hear is "you've been in a coma for.. 12 years."

third thing you're hearing is, " we think a bus hit you...”

obviously not touchy, even when he is settling down. hes just not sure how to .. or where to .. or why he wants too.

please his mental gymnastics get so crazy, just sit down with him and put on some silly ass movie so he stops

when he’s settled he cant pry himself off you though.

a lot of his expressions can definitely be told by his body language, naturally hes tense but theres certain habits he has when he's maybe thinking too much, or fustrated/irritated.

but he does all of the same for you, comfort, love, as much as he can he tries

Very attentive, has a mental list of 'shit you do when somethings wrong' or 'shit you like.'

doesn't consciously make any of these mental list, he just knows.

"didnt they say they liked this?" He pauses "shit ill just leave it at their window."

so he's like canonically smart as shit.

you have too much work from your boss or professor? hand it over its done in less then two hours.

literally buys you groceries and pays your bills (fucking lover boy.)

arkham knight finally figuring out how to ask for a hug (hes been dead silent for 5 minutes) (link) <— insta reel

HES A CHEM/HISTORY NERD FOR SURE

NSFW !! <3

probably- A FUCKING VIRGIN !! HES A NERD !! GETS AWKARD AS SHIT. WITH RAGING COMMITMENT AND TRUST ISSUES !! (will still die4you tho)

AGAIN, not in a "my soft squishe potato always been scared of sex" way but in a ‘oh my god hes so unsocialized’ way.

yall ever see a big ass dog just..standing.. literally him (hes dissociating)

genuinely dont believe that when he was arkham/training to be, he was sexually or romantically involved with anyone. the last thing that was on his mind was actually pursuing a sexual or romantic relationship.

along with his trauma, he just wasn’t comfortable with any of that.

ghosted so many people..

couldn’t flirt for more then five minutes, just stopped feeling it or got uncomfortable .

I AM ANTI ARKHAM KNIGHT BEING A SEX GOD

not that he’s horribly awkward, but he’s noticeably a bit more quiet for first times.

ofc this man has watched porn n’ shit but hes smart enough to know thats not what its really like.

he’ll still figure it, what makes you tic, what you love, what makes you most comfortable.

kinda shitty at dirty talk, just makes him buffer.

he gets better at it tho, too damn good

gets so snarky and confident about it too uuhgrr

late relationships hes smirking and chatting your ears off cause you know hes gettin you turnt.

he has a love-hate relationship with his scars. 95% they remind him of his past, but 5% hes alright with them because they’ve shown what hes been through.

deep, deep, deep, deep, deep down, he knows hes fine as fuck. TRUST YALL.

again, super observant and attentive. really pays attention to what you enjoy.

I genuinely don’t believe hes into super hardcore/painful kinks or anything.

Sex for him is definitely a way of showing his trust and intimacy with someone!! Let him show you how much he loves you and how much he wants to make you feel good! Do the same to him !!

mmm tell him how good hes doing and hes a absolute mess!!

praise him! PRAISE HIM *im yelling from the hospital bed im strapped down on*

wouldn’t let you ride for awhile, but once he’s comfortable with it ,, he’s actually obsessed.

cant see him bottoming , just wouldn’t be comfortable with it

my brain is getting messy so im stopping here! feedback and comments would be cool if you wanna drop some!

[yanderespamton78]

INTRO POST :O

k so i decided to make an intro post for my whole 40 followers because im bored, i cba to make another one for my tiktok and i like talking about myself >:D

(important bits are highlighted if you dont wanna read all of it)

hi!! I go by Charlie or chives online and I use she/her

I am a MINOR‼️‼️‼️ but I dont really mind people over the age of 18 interacting with me just keep that in mind lol (im not gonna specify my actual age)

I post higher quality things on my tiktok @spamtonslongnose so u should totally go follow me there

FANDOMS :

Deltarune (spamton and the addisons)

Undertale

The Amazing Digital Circus

Hitchhikers Guide to The Galaxy

Portal (GlaDOS (wifey/j))

Ghosts BBC

Smiling Friends

also i feel like i should mention im generally super anxious, especially when talking to people i dont know irl so mutuals be prepared for me to never/rarely interact with you lol (also i try to avoid direct messaging, it just makes me uncomfortable. again its not that i feel unsafe its just general anxiety ;-;)

i mostly just reblog stuff or make posts complaining about smth going on in my life. i do post art sometimes but often its just random scraps of art leftover from my tiktok

also i pretty much always have art reqs open!! if you ask me to draw something from one of the fandoms listed above i will prolly draw it!! i cant guarantee that i will but i will try at least lol. if you really want me to draw smth make it addison related i love those guys

i do try to add image description to my art, but often they are very simple because im lazy and tired

i have a bad habit of info dumping about whatevers happening in my life atm,, plus im very winey and love complaining,, if this happens just ignore me ill get bored eventually

im not gonna do a dni bc 1 i cba and 2 itll just be the basic dni criteria and no one needs to read that for the billionth time lol. ill just block u if ur weird

sorry if i ever come off as rude, sometimes i kinda take jokes too far. just know that i never mean to upset anyone (and if i do accidentally i will spiral about it for the next 2 days at least). i just have a habit of getting carried away and going too far sometimes <:D

ok well i think thats it, bye!!

[spitblaze]

hi! I would be VERY interested in hearing the symbolism in therion’s pokemon team!

So the FIRST member of Therion's team is Hisuian Zoroark. This is non-negotiable for me if you dont give him one of these im blocking you on sight (lying)

So there is of course the obvious symbolism of HZoroark's lore, which is that a unovan zorua/zoroark died while consumed by anger or hatred, for humans, for pokemon, or both. This is very much something that Therion went through BUT in my mind his relationship with Ember (her name) goes deeper. He's known this Zorua since he was a child, probably found it alone and scared in the forest. Might've been each other's only friends. Either way, he and Ember are practically inseparable. They travel together, thieve together, eat together, whatever. They're still inseparable during Therion's time with Darius, as much as Darius tries to keep Therion's social circle to him alone. When the betrayal happens, she's there for it too. She tries to defend Therion, uses her illusions and tries to hurt Darius, but she's no match for his Arbok and is sent falling after her human.

Therion probably wouldn't have survived that fall if it wasn't for Ember.

She wasn't as lucky as he was, dying on impact. But it didn't last long. Therion didn't even regain consciousness before she had reincarnated into Hisuian Zoroark, filled with hatred towards humans, who only ever hurt her and her best friend. She probably took care of Therion while he recovered, used her illusions to keep the scavengers at bay and brought him water, berries, help, if she could find it. She accompanies him all over Orsterra, and even though she's very wary of the other travelers at first, she listens to Therion, who says they're okay and won't hurt them. By the end (but sooner than Therion) she's warmed up to them enough that she'd start making pleasant illusions for them (she is like her human in that she puts up a tough exterior but is a big softie with a 'giving gifts' love language).

Until the end of Therion's story, she's the only pokemon he ever has that he has ever given a proper name (he will name a Meowth Linde later). He believes - and was likely taught by Darius - that giving them names will get you attached to them, make you think of them as more than tools. Make you rely on them. And you can't let yourself do that, think that anything in the life of a thief is more than temporary. Not that it's worked - he says he doesn't care about his pokemon, but he's a dedicated trainer who cares deeply about all of them.

And the one who illustrates this best is Crobat, the second-oldest member of his party.

The thing about Crobat is that it's a high-friendship evolution pokemon. They can be found in the wild in theory, but in practice, that trainer will probably have put it a lot of time and care for it to evolve into this. A lot of time and care and affection for a pokemon like Zubat, which is a common annoyance. How many jokes in the world where we DONT have pokemon flying around exist about how annoying zubat are? He caught this pokemon that's considered a pest- maybe on accident, maybe out of desperation for more firepower, maybe fully on purpose - and raised it with the care and attention that let it become Crobat. i dont want to say the same thing three times so ill just leave it at that. I think Therion has a habit of befriending pokemon that he sees some of himself in.

Third member of the party is Mimikyu!

Am I perhaps already personally biased towards ghost types? yes. Do I think Therion would be mostly ghost and dark types regardless? also yes.

The thing with Mimikyu is like...god I could probably just copy the bulbapedia entry for its biology word for word and you'd get why I added it. This is a pokemon that only ever wears a mask. You do not see it outside of its facade. If you try to see it under the mask, it will lash out to stop you. It takes great care to maintain its facade, spend time and energy and effort, as if its very life depended on nobody being able to know it. It's hard to keep up the facade. It's so, so hard, and it's even harder to do it right. So it cries, on the inside. But to show the world that you might be weak is tantamount to suicide, so it stays strong outside.

anyway. I like the mental image of Therion patching up Mimikyu's mask for it. Lets it borrow his scarf while he sews it back up. Taking the time and attention to detail for his little friend, who he insists he does not care about. Darius probably mocked Therion for catching such a pathetic-looking pokemon. and then he found out Mimikyu knew wood hammer and Darius shut his stupid mouth about it forever.

Runerigus is Therion's fourth pokemon.

I know that Unovan Yamask is maybe slightly more relevant to Therion thematically (death mask ghost who longs for a time before), but it's very hard to overlook the evolutionary conditions for Runerigus- Traveling to a certain spot in a desert/canyon area after taking at least 49 HP worth of damage. I'd still argue that there's thematic relevance with Galarian Yamask being a vengeful spirit. Maybe. Therion isn't so much looking for revenge as he is looking to rebuild his life. Still, I think it's all relevant enough to warrant a spot in his party.

Number five is Ceruledge!

Ceruledge is a pokemon that's more representative of Therion in terms of combat and mechanics than it is narratively (i mean. all ghost types are thematically relevant to him but you get it).

I'm just gonna quote bulbapedia here:

"Ceruledge is merciless and will do anything to win a battle. It prefers to do close-quarters combat, with a mix of sneak and surprise attacks. By using its quick speed to locate a foe's blind spots, it will then move closer before slashing them with its large swords. Any cuts from Ceruledge's swords will cause wounds that leak life energy, which the swords then absorb."

Idk man. Sounds like Therion to me

Aaaaand last up is Honchkrow!

Like. The initial thought here really was just 'haha funny crime bird' but like. what are the two thief animals. cats and crows. and what is therion if not either or both of those. i dont have any deeper thoughts on honchkrow lol

That! Is all I have for now i might redo some other ones like olberics but right now therions the one i have Mega Brainworms about so. thank u for asking ilu :)

[djinn-ale]

Heavy breathing I SEE STARBEE AND I NEED HEADCANONS THEY FRENS SHJHHHF

LMAO HIII um im not actually a starbee shipper nor am i really a headcanons haver 😅 HOWEVER i am a huge fan of whatever the fuck was going on with their exrid almost-friendship-mutual-i-need-to-fix-him ghost bee arc dynamic so i do have some thoughts on them under the cut if u are interested. as for headcanons i have exactly one (1) and its this:

t4t? nah. tvt (they fight behind maccadams at 4 pm every week)

i need to preface this by saying i absolutely hate what the autobots stand for in idw1 and i despise rid2012 with a passion, especially for how they wrote bee (autobot regime police brutality sweep??????????????). despite this, i am incredibly delusional and so i pretend that what happened isnt real. also it's been awhile since i read/skimmed through any tf comics, so i could be misremembering things or forgetting events, so take my opinion with a grain of salt.

first of all i think they probably had a lot of issues with each other over the whole leadership thing. like, imagine being the guy whose own worst enemy is his leader, and has fought his entire life throughout the war to usurp him and take over his faction. like youve got so much goddamn beef with this guy and you hate everything he stands for and he hates you and you've suffered so much at this guy's hands, and after so many years, through your own scheming and plotting and killing you're able to stand at the top of cybertron as its leader!! and then in strolls the guy from the opposite faction who is The Optimus Prime Numero Uno guy, and in case that wasnt enough, he was literally handed the leadership role on a silver platter. somehow he doesnt even want the role - thinks he's too unprepared for it or some shit. idk, i just think that theres a lot of foil potential here that was missed, and instead bee was just reduced to the guy cracking various "im dead" jokes while nitpicking every single action starscream took. sure there was some back and forth between the two with morality and Why Didn't You Just Do The Right Thing and whatnot, and their bantering was fun (especially the part where bee actually disappears for a bit after screamer tells him to fuck off) but i think it couldve gone a lot deeper, and a lot more personal. what im trying to say here is that it's Very Bumblebee to try and fix literally the worst guy he knows (barring prowl), but realistically i dont think he wouldve done much to change 4 million years of habits and flaws and the 50 mental illnesses starscream had built up (if anything, starscream mightve taken the actions bee "convinced him to" regardless of what was said - remember how he kept convincing himself that bee was just "his own guilty conscience" - meaning that everything bee says is something he already thinks about, whether subconsciously or not). instead, starscream shouldve been able to convince bee to stop parasocialing op. like, i know bee being op's Most Son Ever and his belief in op being infallible is one of his biggest character flaws, but it wouldve been really cool and awesome character growth for bee to be like Wow, i actually dont think op shouldve annexed the earth that one time in the name of the matrix or whatever.

tldr if starbee was more mentally ill they wouldve been closer to each other. and also hated each other more. and then canon wouldve been so much more enjoyable to me.

[yellowocaballero]

related to the previous ask you answered, if you’re up for it - incredibly curious about how you research stuff for your writing. I feel like you’re so good at capturing all these little details of a life with such humour that I’m always going ‘how is yellow meg caballero not x identity’ (which is obviously not true & just the sign of a good writer, etc etc but still). Are you just out here talking to five million different types of people?? And understanding them??

Yes hello hi <3 <-- catching up on ask

I really do have the awful habit of swerving dramatically out of my lane and talking about shit I have no business talking about. I don't even do a lot of research, or at least not as much research as I should. I'm genuinely a terrible person to emulate here. But as for like how it tends to happen.

One half of it is. Patrick Stewart voice Writing fiction.

jaklsjdflksadf the other half is like...yeah, I talk to a lot of people. I like people a lot. I find everybody really interesting, and even if I don't like somebody then it's still interesting to have learned about a new kind of person. Over the internet especially is so much fun - everybody has at least one thing super interesting about them! Everybody has a unique trait or has had an experience totally unfamiliar to me. I also just really have an eclectic knowledge of a shitton of extremely useless stuff, I watch a lot of random-ass YouTube essays, all of it. Baby I got information even I don't care about for days lol.

Some of my characters are based lowkey off people I know. Sometimes they're based off me at different points in my lives, or the kind of person I used to think I was. I think most often they fit into a category of people I've met in my life - for example, for an OC I'm writing right now, she's based off this type of person I know. And in there I look for what I always liked about those people, what I always related to about those people, and how I always interacted with them. They're often kinds of people I don't even necessarily like. You never really want to do "well im writing [marginalized group] so I'll just make them [friend from marginalized group]", but for me once I meet and talk to enough people from that group kind of the experience and perspective that being in that group gives you emerges. The 'why' of the experience stands out, and you can go deep into that.

All that said, I look for the similarities instead of the differences. My MK stuff isn't about being a system (cuz not that.), it's about having a highly stigmatized mental illness, and somebody's relationship with their identity as a mentally ill person, which is something I can understand. Lots of my SW stuff was about...existential dread, lol. I do just know a fuckton of neurodivergent and trans and etc people. And I think we do just project - I'll interpret a character as having my experiences instead of another's, because I'm SUPER loose with characterizations lol. But yeah I'm just constantly talking to people about their experiences and if you do that enough then a bigger, more relatable experience emerges lol. Everybody knows that there's really only like five emotions.

That being said I made a joke in a recent Moon Knight fic about how baby Marc liked baby Steven at first just because he would wake up and his bed would randomly be made. And my sys friend was like "HOW did you know about chore ghost??". So. Lucky accident a lot of the time I think. Thanks for the Q though, I'm happy I succeed at this!

[toadstool32]

im delirious i just had a GREAT idea this requires having terminal homestuck brain and also liking the idea of batman being fucked up in a funny way. putting this under a read more bc i want u to choose to ruin ur day

ok so like are your familiar with spicyyetis davekat halloween special? well i hope you are now.

ok now are u familiar with bruce wayne? are you familiar of his habit of accidentally acquiring kids left and right and also his perfect mental health?

ok now are you seeing what im seeing

im thinkiong like years in the future like im p sure there was a panel of bruce telling stories to one of his grandchildren like it was very cute right hand on im pulling up the panel

Batman Lost #1 a tie in for dark knights metal

do you see that those are kids , little children running around the manor with an old man bruce just chilling in his murder mystery office, this is the best thing i have ever seen.

so like ideally bruce would have a very happy life retired and with all the rest of the bats taking over in crime fighting n shit and his sons and daughters however many he gets are gonna fill the place with kids eventually bc picking up strays is like, a bat requirement u know, however, im not thinking in a positive way or even a coherent way.

back to YM&O did u see old man dave hoarding kids in a very lonely mansion bc of his fear that the kids are one day gonna be the nly thing that will remind him of the loev of his life or whatever yeah you see where im goin with this.

like i can see it perfectly in my minds eye bruce trying to cope with yknow life and stuff n finally accepting that hes not a one man show and maybe as he gets older hes like alright i gotta, take care of myself? and no matter how much my kids may hate me at times and try to shot me i know they love me and they would be Very Sad if they had to bury me, like , again i mean and so hes like well now im old and trying out this taking care of myself now what and hes like oh i know ill take care of the kids and then at the start dick is like weird but ok better late than never!!! i guess!! but oh wait actuyally sorry old man i cant hang out but u can hang out with timmy and damian ok bye have fun and at this point evryone is like almost thirty and are like trying to subtly get away from bruce bc they were raised independently and also theyre grownups damnit (cass is a treasure so she hangs out but also she knows whats up its chill) and then it expands to the other kids like he starts trying to act as this doting old fatherly figure (hes goin senile its what is HAPPENING) and its not until dick is like haha have u heard jason just got kids following him around thats cute and bruce is like YES THATS IT like he gets hardcore empty nest syndrome except the nest was always kinda full u know? thi pile of leaves and bird shit is gonna overflow,anyway like a few months later dick comes back and theres Horrors tm in Manor bc bruce definition of kid isnt constrained by like, species,(do you think jarro would want more siblings?)

so like the house is packed with kids, all sorts of kids, some arent even kids, some are straight up science experiments and bruce is like I Love My Family :) alfred has been dead for over 30 years and yet bruce finds the way to drag his ghost back to the house so they can coo at the kids together (alfred look at my new daughter isnt she cute yes master bruces shes quite charming what will all the eyes, yes youre right she is) jarro is having fun having siblings but he still tries to win bruces attention , cass is almost encouraging bruce to get more kids (i want a new sister) tim and damian are scared but in different ways jason went there once and said Not My problem (hes also scared) barbara doesnt know the extent of the problem and is just amused the titrans know and dick is the last to know (but only bc i find it funny) if u ask what about duke i dont wanna inflict this hell on him he scaped early amen also the justice league either enables him or is subtly trying to stop him (it is. not working)

[anonbinaryweirdo]

hai babi :3 oki selfship ask game,, do any ship yu want oki !! 🐶💞💋💐🎵😍💤 ✅ : would they kiss me/j

🐶 (what kind of pet would they get?): I could definitely see them getting kitties. Puppies, too, maybe ? I could see them both liking to indulge in a puppy's hyperness and whatnot, but also liking the peace and sprinkle of chaos brought with a kitty

💞 (how is affection expressed?): Through small fleeting words and actions, that feels like it's lingering; like they've been in that moment for way longer than how long they'd initially been embracing in the moment. Although, little needs to be said, this goes for the both of them, it's the little things that matter more than anything (they're both attention/affection-starved babies) <\3

💋 (favorite places to kiss their partner!): Cecilia likes to tease, she'll ghost a kiss over the corner of his lips, or his neck before biting down on it, just to see him get frustrated and start squirming before flicking her in the forehead for being so "annoying"

As for Wanderer? I feel he likes the way her lips feel against his when she kisses him back with love evident in the action, it makes him feel all warm inside. He probably likes to get her back with the neck kisses before the bites and then oh no now they're being all petty and competitive, trying to see who can catch their partner off their guard and do it most smh

They both fancy hand/palm kisses (id melt)

💐 (how did they meet?): when she broke into his office when she was nineteen to steal documents, and got away by kicking him in the face with her heel before escaping through the window from whence she came and managed to avoid him for two weeks

🎵 (song lyrics that remind you of your selfship!): very good question. ill come back to this after scrolling through the 1.3k songs in my playlist.

😍 (three favorite things about your f/o!) answered here!

💤 (do they sleep together? what are their sleeping habits?): Yes, they cannot go to sleep without ensuring that they're touching their partner somehow. Cecilia scared the fuck out of him the first few times she fell asleep, because she's so still, and you can hardly tell she's breathing (id be terrified too),,, She's also a super light sleeper, like, the sound of a leaf hitting the window could wake her up immediately (not really but you get the jist) She only really moves if she's having a nightmare, so he knows when somethings wrong

Wanderer's a light sleeper too, not as much as Cecilia, but he's a really alert sleeper, will wake up if he feels something wrong (like Cecilia moving her leg off of him in his sleep he'll wake her up and threaten her/j) He likes to pull the blanket over them to ensure she stays trapped (she's the kind of psycho who can sleep without a blanket shivers uncomfortably) They both wake up kind of early, but he prefers to sleep in, since he has no reason to get up for the Tsaritsa anymore or anything, but he literally cannot unless he pins Cecilia to the bed why are you waking up at six in the morning to go bake sit your ass down

✅: Cecilia would *lipbite* (only like on the cheek or wrist thou 😔 im an exception we're making out rn actually) but Wanderer would ridicule you for even having that thought in your mind like smh (again, im an exception/j)

[nothing-i-can-do-now-i-guess]

I have finished reworking my female spirit user I have up on my blog so ignore the old her. Trying to pair with a dhampir. We can talk plots and details later but I do have ideas for a college based rp. This’d be OCxOC. Dark topics, blood and violence will occur so plz be 18+. 3rd person and im trying to get back into writing, so probably around 2-4 paragraphs rn. Lemme know if you wanna rp!

Basic Character Info

Name: Anastazija Catalina Ani Dragovič

Nickname: Princess Anastazija, Taz, Cat

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Ethnicity: Croatian/Slovene

Sexuality: Pansexual

Relationship status: Single

Physical Appearance

Faceclaim: Scarlett Leithold

Height: 5’9

Eye colour: Blue

Build of body: Slim build

Hair color: Blonde

Hair style: Reaches mid back and often leaves it down

Other: Pale, fangs

Personality

Likes: her best friend, art, video games, writing, pet sparrow, horror movies

Dislikes: moroi politics, strigoi, training

Fears: losing her best friend and finally being alone, strigoi

Personal goals: To find whoever took her family from her

Health Illnesses (if any): struggles with depression

Allergies (if any): n/a

Sleeping habits: Struggles to sleep, taking an hour to sleep. Often has nightmares about what happened to her family and her mind makes up worse scenarios

Unhealthy habits: Has bad coping habits to deal with her trauma and magic. Scratches incessantly at skin, pulls her hair, hits a solid surface until her knuckles bleed

Relationships

Mother: Julijana Dragovič (45, deceased)

Father: Nikolaj Dragovič (45, deceased)

Siblings: Zoran Dragovič (19, deceased), Leon Dragovič (12, unknown)

Others

Occupation: College student

Favorite types of food: cinnamon scones

Favorite types of drink: hot chocolate

Hobbies/pastimes: Video games, art, journaling, cooking

Abilities/skills: Spirit, stronger compulsion, see through her bird’s eyes, communicate with ghost, minor control of the other elements like all moroi

Favorite colors: sky blue

Language(s): Croatian (native), English (fluent), Slovene (conversational)

Standard Weapons/tools: Pocket knife

Backstory

Several generations ago, the head of the Dragomir line had two sons. While young they got along as well as any brothers would, however, as they grew older their relationship began to strain as the oldest became more withdrawn. It is said that he never specialized in an element and grew jealous of his younger brother, beginning to grow more manic, eventually breaking away from the Dragomir family to form the Dragovič line.

Over the years, the Dragovič’s grew in political power despite their few numbers. Exactly how their power was gained so quickly is still debated by the royal court and historians. In the modern era, however, the number of Dragovič’s began to shrink drastically. Investigations began to tkae place, some believing that the Dragovič’s were being targeted directly, as well as the Dragomir line.

Anastazija was born the middle child to the prince of the Dragovič family. From early childhood Taz was considered a strange child, often found staring off into space or talking to her imaginary friends. Little did anyone realize that Taz had specialized in her element far earlier than when she should. The imaginary friends were ghosts that she would befriend and try to help move on. Other abilities related to spirit developed the older Taz got, leaving the young moroi confused and began to scare her. Soon, Taz started blocking out the very ghosts she once used to befriend.

For several years Anastazija avoided using her powers as much as possible until she was 14. One day while in her room, a sparrow flew into her window, dying on impact. Feeling bad, the spirit user accidentally used her powers to heal the bird, bringing it back to life. Shocked, Taz kept quiet about what happened but kept the sparrow. In just a few weeks, Taz’s life would change forever.

While out with a few friends, sudden visions began to assault her of her home and her family being attacked, causing her to pass out. Once she woke up, Taz took off running back home. Her visions turned out to be true once she arrived. After that, Taz’s life has never been the same. The body of her younger brother was never found and Anastazija still believes he is alive. Growing angry, paranoid and vengeful. A desire to hunt down those who killed her family has stayed with her ever since.

Style

Loves skirts and dresses but has begun wearing more pants after running away to be more prepared to be active. Has a parasol that her parents gave her when she was younger that she uses for going outside on especially sunny days. Ever since the death of her family, Taz has taken to wearing black, still mourning the loss of her family.

Normal style

Parasol

[cryptidmullet]

more renga headcanons bc i miss them

- rekis not one to like. hide his praise or anything he compliments langa a lot but just. every so often he'll grab langas wrist and look at him all soft and say "youre amazing langa" very reminiscent of how langa praises him and it just makes langa feel so fucking mushy and in love

- rekis used to affection from his family but thats kinda it and langas family was never super affectionate but he felt loved still but after his dad died he just felt super lonely but when they meet and start getting super close they both just feel like theyre overflowing with love both given and received and i just thinks that beautiful

- rekis chronically bad at opening bottles bc they hurt his hands and hes always embarrassed but he goes up to langa and is like. open please. and langa does KKFMSMFND

- it gets to the point he'll just go up to him with a bottle and langa will open it without being prompted

- yknow when youre really tired and you feel like youre floating in the ocean reki has that but he feels like hes rolling back and forth on his skateboard

- since he first started skating the movement and feeling got so ingrained in him that he'll be sitting at his desk or laying in bed and just feels the sensation of tick tacking like hes not moving he just can feel it like a ghost in his muscles and brain

- sometimes reki just wants to. stand on his board like not do anything just stand on it so he stores skateboards in his room and when he gets restless he'll just stand on one for a little bit

- reki talks to himself a lot he'll be doing some mindless task and then have a pretend conversation with nobody without even realizing it

- whenever reki cries or gets choked up about smth drinking water for some reason makes him feel better

- reki pokes the twins' bellies and blows raspberries on them to make them laugh :)

- langa cant pick up rice with chopsticks when he first moves to okinawa and reki makes fun of him but still teaches him how to do it

- langa has acne along his jawline its just bumpy and stuff

- reki wakes up and then lays in bed watching videos as long as he can before he gets up 

- he also holds his phone like two inches away from his face

- reki uses dark mode langa uses light mode until reki notices it forcibly changes it

- rekis phone is always at like really low brightness bc his eyes are sensitive

- its battery is also always low bc its an old phone and it takes forever to charge

- he takes a lot of pictures and videos of langa just for no reason half of them are blurry and out of focus and langas not paying attention but he keeps all of them

- he has a bookmark on instagram called 'langa' and its full of stuff that reminds reki of him or he wants to show him later

- langa and reki pair up for a presentation once and when theyre presenting they cannot stop laughing reki says um and pauses for a moment too long and langa does one of those long nose exhale laughs and it makes reki snort and then they keep messing up and barely get through it and when they walk back to their desks they shove each other while the class laughs

- langa has a really cheap purple phone case he got at walmart and rekis like dude thats so boring so he makes stickers for him to stick to it

- langa loves them but he also has this weird anxiety about putting stickers places bc he likes them and doesnt want to eventually get rid of whatever the sticker is on but reki tells him he'll make him more whenever he gets another phone so hes okay with it

- langa doesnt really fidget unless hes nervous and then he twists his fingers around but when hes sitting he rolls his right ankle a lot and his foots like always twitching really minutely 

- reki carries around a hairband partly for his sisters (and eventually langa) and partly so he can fidget with it

- langa carries one around too for the same reason but one day reki forgets it during work so langa gives it to him bc he looks restless 

- and langa kinda feels really bare and doesnt know what to do without it so he just rubs his wrist a lot but he doesnt mind 

- reki will get up to go do smth but just sit down curled in a ball on the floor bc he gets distracted for whatever reason and after like 20 minutes of scrolling through his phone hes like wait what was i doing

- reki has a scar on his lip/chin bc he bailed really hard and hit his chin on the concrete and bit through his lip 

- langas a dry ass texter when he and reki first meet bc he didnt really have anyone to text before

- but eventually he googles how to turn auto caps and everything changes

- hes actually funnier over text sometimes bc hes less restrained 

- hes made a ur mom joke and then was like wait i take it back i love your mom im sorry :c 

- and he points out every time reki misspells a word just to annoy him

- reki scrolling through tiktok and he randomly starts crying at a wholesome video and langas like.. you good man and rekis like look at this FRICKING tiktok dude and then langas crying too KFMSMFND

- obligatory "we make a good team" line idk the context ill think about it later but theyre gay they have to say it

- langa promised his mom hed go to the store but had to do a last minute shift at dope sketch and rekis like oh ill do it for you i already know what you get

- langa has a sweet tooth he loves candy and hot chocolate and all that stuff and reki is lowkey an enabler he always brings candy w him or has a bag in his room

- when reki laughs he wraps his arms around his stomach and hes the type to go silent when he laughs hard enough

- he'll go from standing normally to bent over to crouched down to falling and rolling on his back or side from laughing so hard

- its pretty rare but sometimes he snorts in the middle of a laugh too

- when langas laughing Really hard its loud and kind of wheezy and almost like a cackle and he covers his mouth most of the time just out of habit

- he curls up when he laughs too so he'll be laying on rekis bed or the floor and reki says smth that catches him totally off guard and he starts fucking cackling and brings his knees up to touch his forehead hitting his leg and wheezing

- langa helps reki teach chihiro and nanaka how to ride a bike and the four of them go on little bike rides together occasionally

- the twins pulling on langas pant leg until he bends down so they can whisper gibberish in his ear and the first time langa is like ??? but then he learns to just laugh and nod 

- all of rekis sisters coming into rekis room while langa is there to be like :D langa :D and reki herding them out and yelling we're busy and then just flopping on his bed to continue scrolling through his phone in silence

- reki does the older sibling thing and just stands in koyomis doorway 

- miya makes a meme reference that reki doesnt get and hes like god youre old and it wounds reki on a personal level

- reki has a piece of graphite just like permanently stuck in his leg bc when he was younger his friend accidently stabbed him with it and it broke off and just. stayed there

- reki gets super obsessed with one song for a week or two and he'll listen to it on loop like 10 times in a row and he learns the lyrics to them no matter the language and by proxy langa always has the stuck in his head

[ask-lir]

Work in Progress!! - With Progress Made!!

As it stands our lovely Lir is in the reworks! updates are going to include a final choice on design, a story that I actually like, and a rework of the blog's visual. it will take time as I have a bad habit of wanting to churn things out and getting burnt out- ill try to avoid that and take my time :3

Small notes for the current blog

Asks and Interactions are open, well im slower than a snail i do look at them.

Old posts are private, I didn't have the heart to delete them. if you want to see an old post i can easy send a screenie

Some lore is now set below! well it maybe in a post i would like everything together along with his official ref!!

Thanks for it all - Mod Bee <3

him tm (small note : OG Design is by @ask-tay-relic and his wifey HLK)

Lir Lore

So for one I have lir to be much older than he was before. rather than being an edgy story for his history hes now just a ball of magic that over time sort off collected itself and gained a conscious that even hes not sure of. he perked from a lake below the crystal empire as i like to think that with rainwater going down the mountain and the natural magic in the earth getting caught in the water is where he comes from but even then im not sure.

For a while he took on no form, before mimicking animals in the forest north of ponyville (the large one generally believed to hug Fluttershys cottage, and be below cloudsdale from when fluttershy fell) at some point he did meet some ponies being Sapphire and Lumi (Up for change) so he mimics them then before slowly changing into his own form he holds onto now. Sap and Lumi have long sense passed and Lir stays more hidden in the forest.

He cranky and admitally cold to ponies for his own reasons and often leads them out of what he veiws as his forest. finding encroaching development harmful to the animals he has grown to care for. he lives in a rundown old cottage, although lived is a debatable word but it well taken care of. he is own to growl and bare teeth like a wolf before being friendly just due to how he has experienced life although he also enjoys pranking those who return, or fouls who come in based on a dare. he doesn't actually ever attack or harm as he more wishes to scare or mess with them. he does however show signs of curiosity and an interest to learn more things but is unwilling to leave his forest due to his distrustful nature.

ive given him the nicknames "Ghost of North Woods / Winter Prince" as he will often switch between a sort of magical blob and using a water body. he has noted that no pony has both a horn and wings and hes unaware of the status associated. for a while he did sport wings but now he opts to not form them unless he wants to be annoying and freak/prank someone out.

He takes after the animals as well, well he is not bonded to one animal in partular he is a general help. letting them drink from his "hair" and being just portable drinkable water. he dosent tend to see the same animal often so he treats them all well.

He dose have sharp teeth like a dog/wolf as it seemly seems to freak out most ponies who come by.

i like to say that at one point, well the rail road though the mountains to the crystal empire was being built Lir was a bit of a pain often causing havoc and rain as he didn't like the railroad as it seems to separate the forest from the lake there. even if a train likely comes once every day or less really.

[sorryimanon]

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x NB!Reader

Warnings: some angst, FLUFF, and our boys being the best boys.

In which they comfort you after a rough day or week

A/N: im sorry if Izukus section is shorter than Bakugou’s. trying to practice writing other characters. enjoy!

Saturday's are reserved strictly by the majority of the girls from class 1-A, leaving the guys to hibernate inside their dorms as they allow the commencement of girls night. You've never rain checked nor rejected the idea of spending  quality time with your friends, considering all the tribe's and trepidation's everyone has endured together during their time at the academy. It's nice to just strip away the stress and dip your toes in pure relaxation.

Unfortunately, you woke up with a bad case of cloudy thoughts. For the past week you've been carrying the weight of dread, causing your mood to drastically change throughout the day. You'd be having a civil conversation with someone one minute and then the next minute you're completely irritated by their presence. You've tried to balance it out and fix it overnight with the regimes you researched on the internet. A new sleeping schedule, healthier diet, yoga, and even went to the extreme of writing in a journal. It was all so cut throat and prestigious, nothing close to your liking. Katsuki made fun of you for it one day when he snuck into your room and read the many inscriptions in your journal entries.

"This stuff reminds of Deku. Always shoving his nose in that stupid notebook of his," he didn't care much to hear your refutes about Izuku. "Anyways, what's with all this depressing shit you are writing? You don't really feel this way do you?"

You didn't give him a definite answer that day. Only a curt "no" and he resumed rambling about his day like nothing happened, having you listening with his voice like white noise going in one ear and out the other.

And that's how it went on throughout the duration of the prior week before Saturday.

Inside the confinement of your dorm, you made the rational decision to sleep in instead of attending classes. The chilling thoughts kept you up all night, never once allowing sleep to take full throttle. You tossed and turned around on your bed, unable to shut off your brain. So when you woke up in the peak of late afternoon, you weren't surprised to see the unread messages on your phone. All of them were from your explosive boyfriend.

King Explosion🤍: Oi you running late? Mr.Sleepy head is taking roll call

King Explosion🤍: y/n where tf r u?

King Explosion🤍: fine don't answer me ig

King Explosion🤍: are you at least coming down for lunch? i made curry last night and imma make you finish it

King Explosion🤍: fking hurry before dunce face eats it

King Explosion🤍: nvm he ate it 😐

Katsuki never intended for the message to be funny. He's probably blowing actual steams of smoke through his nostrils and ears while chasing kamanari amongst the halls. The comical imagery made you laugh harder. At least he made you crack a smile. You haven't shown any emotions let alone a hint of enthusiasm for tonight.

Maybe it'd be best to sit this one out.

"Hey, we're missing a person! Where's my y/n?" Mina asked after scanning the group of girls huddled around on the carpeted floor.

Momo shifted uncomfortably on the cushioned pillow she stole from the couch. "Y/N said she wasn't feeling too well to join us for tonight. Something about food poisoning and throwing up every hour."

In unison all the girls gasped, along with a concerned 'ribbit' from Tsuyu.

"Well I hope she gets to feeling better. I wouldn't want her to endure such sickness for much longer," Tsuyu croaked out.

Everyone in the circle agreed and promised to pay a visit later in the night to check on you.

On the fourth floor, Katsuki stared blankly at his phone, hands shaking due to the repressed anger he's been holding. Each of the messages he sent previously were all left on read, including the one he sent an hour ago asking if he could have a cuddle session with you before girls night. Yes, even an ill tempered guy such as him enjoys sappy shit like cuddling. After pacing back and forth in his room for a solid 5 minutes, he was now dead set on confronting you in front of your friends.

Katsuki made a beeline for the elevator and aggressively pressed the 1st floor button repeatedly in hopes it'll make the process go quicker. He reached the commons area in precision time, overhearing the girls giggle after someone suggested playing truth or dare. He towered over Uraraka's figure, casting a demonic shadow version of himself in the circle. Hagakure shrieked and clung onto Jirou.

"Where's y/n you extras?" He demanded, voice deafening the brunette under him.

"She didn't come tonight. She's in her dorm room sick," Jirou explained to him as she tried pry the invisible girl off her arm.

"Like hell she's sick!" Katsuki spun around quickly and retreated back to the elevator, mumbling obscenities under his breath. "She's going to pay for being so careless and irresponsible."

The commons room fell silent once the explosive blonde disappeared behind the doors of the elevator, all eyes searching each other in complete shock. Uraraka was the first to speak out of the small group.

“Should we warn y/n that Bakugou is coming for her?”

Jirou averted her gaze to the direction bakugou left off from, a ghost of a smirk spreading on her face.

“Nah. Knowing y/n, she can handle the asshole on her own.”

King Explosion🤍: can i come over? i wanna cuddle, i miss u

The text message kept flashing behind your eyes every-time you closed them - a sad image of Katsuki waiting impatiently for you to reply back with a heart or one of those unusual memes he unapologetically adores. You knew he’d be furious, no doubt about it, but you rationalized your decision and concluded it would be best to avoid your boyfriend like the plague till this undesired feeling dissipates. Katsuki doesn’t do well with people being emotional, let alone handle his own emotions for god’s sake.

Your own thoughts were interrupted by someone raping the outside of your door. The continuous knocks made your head spin, a painful sting ghosting back and forth between your eyes. Remembering back to an hour ago, you messaged one of the girls that you weren’t going to make it to tonight’s session. Surely they respected your wishes and continued on with their hangout? But you forgot about the one person who’s persistent and stubborn like a cat.

“I know you’re in there y/n! You may have fooled your idiotic friends with a lie, but you keep on forgetting you’re terrible at lying!” Katsuki hollers against the wood of the door, not once being considerate of those living above her.

He’s right. You’re absolutely horrible at making up excuses for yourself. Dating someone as intuitive as him will be the death of you.

“If there’s something going can you at least let me in? You can’t ignore me forever y/n.”

Again, he’s right.

You slipped out from the comfort of your bed and padded towards the door, mentally preparing for the blonde to scold you once he enters your room. What you weren’t prepared for was the tears swelling up in the ducts of his vermillion eyes - his hands clenched tightly into fists as he looked down at you. Your breathing hitched when his arm outstretched to rest on the door frame to keep his trembling body steady.

“What the hell y/n? Why the fuck have you been ignoring me?! Did I do something wrong?!” He asked, not caring about his current appearance.

You grab ahold of his other arm and absentmindedly started rubbing it affectionately, trying to coax him into calming down. “Katsuki no! You didn’t do anything wrong! Why would you think that?”

“Because dumbass, you’ve been distant this past week,” he paused, choking on his words. “Are...are you breaking up with me?”

Your eyes shot up instantly at his horrifying assumption. “Katsuki, if I tell you the truth, will you promise not to make things worse for me?”

He tilted his head in confusion, but nodded once you led him into your messy bedroom. Once inside, your boyfriend plopped down on your bed, watching intently as you anxiously bit down on your nails - a nervous habit you picked up at the beginning of the school year.

“I’ve been feeling weird lately. Ever since the beginning of last week. I don’t know how to describe it but, my brain is constantly feeding into my already negative state. Telling me things I know aren’t true but I’ve convinced myself they are. Almost as if a grey cloud is hovering above me,” tears were already starting to pour down your cheeks. “I just...I just feel so miserable and lonely and useless and irritated and- I’m so sorry for ignoring you. You probably want nothing to do with me after this!”

You manage to turn away from the sight of the blonde during your speech, ashamed of pouring out your emotions onto a person who disregards other peoples emotions and constitutes them as a quote on quote “pussy”.

From behind, you can hear faint shuffling nearing your already shaken up figure. A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a wall that could only be described as his own chiseled chest, doing the same as you did moments ago with his arm - lulling you to calm down a notch before he stared speaking.

“If you been feeling this way, why lie when I asked you a few days ago after reading your journal?”

“I know how you are, Katsuki. You get very uncomfortable when people talk about their feelings. So, why should I be any different?”

Your boyfriend suddenly maneuvers you around in the circle of his arms, shifting to where you’re now making direct eye contact with him. His gaze intense and unwavering.

“Because you’re my girlfriend? I don’t give a rats ass about any of these extras. When it comes to you, I’d make an exception for. I made that promise to myself when we first started seeing each other. So don’t think for a second that I’ll disregard your true feelings, dumbass.” He stepped a couple of inches backwards, ankles eventually hitting the bottom of your bed - making him fall and dragging you along with him. You landed on top of him, head still buried in the depths of his hard chest. The vibrations of his chuckle shook your whole body. Katsuki gently titled your head to be leveled with his, a red tint of blush painting his pallid cheeks.

“I’m being serious though. Don’t be afraid to come to me when things get tough, okay? I love you too much to see you like this.”

Next thing you knew your boyfriend stole your breath away by meshing his plump lips onto yours, hands snaking their way into your hair and carefully massaging it. By all means, you let him have his way with you by kissing the sadness away, tears puddling together cheek on cheek.

He let go eventually, pecking a quick chaste kiss on the side of your mouth before hauling you further into the bed. You settled on letting him spoon you, knowing how much he likes the feeling of your backside pressed against him, and the fruity aroma of your hair infiltrating his senses.

“I promise Katsuki,” you said after some time during the cuddle session.

He shifted in his spot, head placed firmly in the crook of your neck. “Promise what?”

“That I’ll come to you when these thoughts return again. I should trust you by now, and I need to not let these emotions ruin everything in my life. I love you that much.

Your confession swelled the very last evidence of Katsuki being a human being, his heart.

He smiled weakly to himself and nuzzled more into your shoulder, brushing his warm lips against the tender skin. “You better, dumbass.”

-

Today was just so exhausting, and the big fat 'D-‘ written in red ink on your final report was the icing on the cake. To make things even worse, Aizawa reminded the whole class before the exam that this was to determine wether or not if you'll be joining the training camp that'll commence the following winter break.

Hopefully this was one of your teacher's terrible deception tactics into making everyone do their absolute best, go plus ultra even. But to your dismay, he was indeed very serious of the matter this time.

It wasn't your fault, not entirely. You stayed up all night listening to another one of your boyfriends rambles, the conversation lasting till 2 am. Izuku grew worrisome and anxious ever since his encounter with a gruesome villain, thus resulting in him to pour his emotions out onto you. Poor baby kept mentioning the safety of All Might and you.

Solemnly, you left class and trailed back to your dorm room, wanting to ignore the jovial atmosphere inside the cramped room as everyone traded and talked about their scores.

Izuku noticed you leaving abruptly and got up from his desk to follow you behind, bidding a quick goodbye to his friends.

Your room was dark and dramatically colder than usual, a trickle of light threatening to pour in from the cascading sunset. You laid down on your stomach with one of your pillows propped on your head, in hopes to shield away anyone from seeing your ugly-crying face.

Too late because Izuku was already standing outside your dorm room, swaying back and forth on his feet while biting down harshly on his lip. He can hear your soft cries seeping through the door. He doesn't know why he's hesitating, he's your boyfriend after all.

Moments later you hear the acute sounds of someone knocking on your door, followed by the soft spoken voice of your green haired boyfriend.

"Baby? Can I come in? I-If that's okay with you I m-mean! It's alright if you need some space but you left class so early I figured something happened to you and I got really worried because you always wait for Iida and uraraka to walk us back to the dorms as a group and maybe it had something to do with what I was telling you last night-."

You crack the door just a smidge before fully opening it, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained shirt to him. His breathing hitched once his eyes fixated on your disheveled state. 

"Can you comfort me? I need you right now Izuku," your voice cracked a little, throat still tight after the crying session.

His strong, lean arms wrapped around your body momentarily, encasing you into a bear hug. Hugs from Izuku were amazing, no exceptions. He placed a quick peck on the crown of your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get inside and snuggle. How does that sound?" he asked as he unwrapped himself and took your trembling hand, leading you back inside the dimly lit room.

Izuku laid you gently down on your side once reaching the bed, crawling alongside with you before  draping the covers over the both of you. His familiar hands snake around your waist and nudges you to roll over. You obliged and shifted your body to face his, sparkly green eyes staring straight at you.

"Tell me, what's wrong baby? Does it have to do with the recent exam?" his thumb started tracing delicate lines on your hips, your uniform long gone and now replaced with comfortable clothes instead.

"I failed Izuku...I did so terrible on the written exam. I kept falling in and out of sleep during the test that I didn't have time to finish the middle portion of it," you exhaled a shaky breath. "Who knows what'll happen on the practical. I'll probably fail that too...I'm such a failure compared to everyone."

Izuku grabbed the tender flesh of your cheeks and directed your vision to level with his. He looked angry and concerned.

"Don't say that y/n! You're not a failure! That exam doesn't determine wether or not if you're good enough to be a hero. I've seen you in action hun, and I know for a fact that you're possibly the most strongest person I've met in my lifetime! You're ambitious, smart, determined, and so freaking beautiful." He then kissed you tenderly on the lips, his eyes closing slightly due to the contact.

"So...freaking...beautiful." He whispers against your mouth.

His sentimental words were enough for you to push back the negativity and simply enjoy the intimate moment.

Izuku lifted his head away from your face to rest it against your temple. "You're going to do great things, okay? One failing grade isn't going to be the end of the world. Trust me sweetheart, I've had my fair share in failures during our time here in Yuuei. But look at me now, still standing."

You nuzzled more into his chest, tickling his chin with your hair. Faintly, you can hear the pitter patter of his heart beat bursting through his rib cage.

"Would you love me even if I was a horrendous looking-failure?" you were clearly teasing him, but sometimes Izuku became dense when it came to that.

"Y/n! W-Why would you ask that! Of course I would you dummy! I'd love you no matter what."

This time you return the favor and kiss him, knowing how to easily fluster him in seconds. He whimpers into your mouth at the sudden contact and cups your jawline affectionately.

The two of you stayed like that till the moon shone through the balcony curtains, illuminating your skin in a dusty glow.

Lips bruised and swollen red, you laid lifelessly in his arms, letting him wove his scarred fingers through your hair. Izuku would occasionally stop to peck your lips, then resumes his attention back to your hair.

"I'm sorry by the way. I shouldn't have kept you up last night before the exam. I'm such a horrible boyfriend..." he admitted suddenly.

"Yes. Yes you are."

He gasped and stopped his movements altogether, obviously taken aback by your blunt words.

You giggled and said, "Kidding. You're the best boyfriend. Apology accepted.”

After hearing that, Izuku shoved himself onto your chest and let out muffled cry. "D-Don't scare me like that. Almost made me have a heart a-attack!"

[tomatograter]

do u have any random bits of dirk/jake/dirkjake meta u haven’t posted abt but would like to share.. I just love your thoughts on them lol

My honest answer to this question is that due to the nature of most stuff im working on i'm Never *Not* Thinking about them. Though most of these thoughts are disordered and a tad holistic, so calling it meta feels silly when im just pointing out text observations or something ill later fit into a story LOL

That being said, the latest detail I've been mulling over (and if you follow my rambletwitter this will not come as new information) is the manner in which jake will exaggerate aranea's hot-girl availability and interest in him entirely to spite dirk (Here, brain ghost dirk,) for ignoring him and his attempts at communicating for the first half of act 6. 

Jake knows being around aranea makes 'A' dirk jealous, jealous enough he won't shut up about it, and this kind of honest no-bullshit attention is the very same he's been fruitlessly looking for as the AR hogs all viable lines of communication and "real" dirk refuses to tip his hand. There's an ongoing theme there that i don't usually see explored, and its part of what makes their relationship blow up in the latter half of act 6: Dirk's emotional maze and steel mask of irony prevents him from being sincere and open with the people he loves (metaphorically and literally) even when they're standing right next to one another. You can talk at dirk without talking with dirk, the same way dirk can talk at you without focusing on you - bit of a bad habit, there- and this sort of mixed signal drives jake a little bit mad. He's not even sure dirk likes him half of the time, because it is not something that is stated between them. (And as i said before, the verbal affirmation part of the "believing" process is a big thing for jake - and generally fits right into his neurodivergent profile. 0 emotional permanence, if you don't say you like him he's going to doubt it with his pingpong brain.) So when he sees the opportunity to actually get dirk to react in a way that makes sense, he grabs it. Its a big "Oh? So now you can pay attention to little ol" me???? Now you care??"

(The jump in tone between these because dirk wont let go of stewing in bitterness while also trying to make jake embarass himself & jake throwing it right back at him that at least alien girl is talking to me! And yes she is ""hot""! "And most importantly maybe if you werent so difficult this would be US!!! . jpeg" is A Lot)

(I also posted these two, bc the way jake casually mentions his status with dirk and/or tries to get her to talk about Real Lore Shit instead of more winkwonk nonsense says more about his intentions than brain ghost dirk prompting him into thinking about porn by yapping about it)

In game dirk latches onto making them adventuring agendas and exercise programs and matching outfits and grinding for exp inside dungeons for 8 hours straight, nonstop, most of which probably spent rambling about the supposed intricacies of sburb's philosophical stances, but all of it is never *explicitly* about the nature of their romantic relationship, or affection, or any sort of emotional intimacy without a takebacksies of "i'm kidding, because I'm a stone cold cool dude." It's almost as though he's making their romance into subtext just for the sake of unproblematically acknowledging it as a Bromance instead, given he still thinks the AR forced jake's feelings, except… he's also desperately trying to engage with jake like this, expecting any attention to count as positive attention. Its a nonstop marathon to effectively monopolize being around jake without having to touch on the complicated / embarassing / necessary parts of dating someone. When jake finally loses interest in playing this extended brainpuzzle game of 0 honesty with dirk and his many extended dlc splinters, he goes to sit on the grass and huff and rant about it, but it's nothing we haven't actually seen before. Jake states many a time that he's not sure if dirk is really into him, with all the false positives. But he has no qualms about saying if he had to date someone, itd probably be dirk, or that he used to joke way back if dirk was a girl they'd be totally in love until he realized that didnt matter, all the while objectively classifying jane's hinted at feelings as "unrequited" or straight up saying "no, I'm not in love with aranea, what the fuck?" When brain ghost dirk gets it into his head that he really wants to get into her pants and does all the heavylifting to entirely shift the conversation about how much she is his perfect alien girl. Its just funny to see how jake picks up that this is just because dirk is jealous, and dirk being jealous means hes willing to truly engage in what looks like an irritated but honest way, and jake wants said attention so much hes going to milk it for what its worth. (But when given the chance, he couldn't give less of a shit for actually kissing aranea, and it is actually framed as something horrifically wrong, because it was never about her, it was about dirk.)

[sigmanutz]

— – — - at the seams — – — -

pairing: dad!cedric x babysitter!reader

warning: fluffy core memories ahead, mentions of death, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief

rating: pg 😒

summary: cho and cedric had a son named Friedrich, Fritz or, only tolerated from Amos, Freddy my ol' boy for short, years after they leave hogwarts. but cho collapses into a coma and passes within weeks. it was something magic couldn't fix: an underlying terminal illness. cedric is stricken with grief and unable to learn how to cope. auror robes were traded for a desk jockey manager position in the same department, giving the young father enough busy work to forget about his other problems. he grew to love the distraction, nothing like desk work to soothe the soul.

send me ur thoughts n ideas :3 id love to eat ur brains. definitely not edited, but this idea hasn't left me for days. im sensing laundry room make out sessions and stuff in the near future 👁👄👁🔮

amos watched Fritz for some time until he started to develop dementia. litle things at first that garnered no attention, then it went on and on. one too many times he forgot the kettle was left on the gas burning stove and cedric had to find someone to relieve his father from childcare.

he just needed someone dependable to watch his son, so one day you get a letter by owl.

within hours, you set a time and date for midday tea. arriving a tad bit early to get some extra work done. you were a freelance editor and it helped make ends meet with not so many privileges or niceties.

at the exact meeting time, in walks cedric diggory, the man, the myth, the legend, he's somehow taller and lankier than you remember, with a ghost of stubble that peppers his sunken face. his kind smile and all too familiar wind-blown mop remained the same. the small talk was forgotten as hours pass and the two of you trauma dump and reminisce about simpler times.

"... its been a year or so now," he mumbled as they discussed the uncharted waters of cho's passing. there was no funeral or showing, her family went with cremation and spread her ashes in ireland off the coast.

"must suck, ced. sorry buddy." you grimmaced and reach over to rub his shoulder. you avoided pitying people, but he seemed appreciative of your gesture as your hand returned to fiddle with the edges of the notebook you had been doodling in.

"fucking rotten, thats for sure." he lets out, taking a sip of chamomile tea. your hands wrung themselves out of anxious habit and you nodded. "dad's gone kinda senile too." he added on

"well sounds like its all sunshine and daisies, ain't it golden boy?" you teased demurely. cedric surprisingly huffed out a loud laugh and you chuckled along with him. "couldnt have said it any better myself."

"what're you up to lately anyways?" the boyish smile finally revealed itself

the sky turns hues of purple and pink as he holds the teashop's door open for you, your faces flushing from the nippy london air.

"Aurors nowadays," he said with a playful eyeroll. an associate owled to let him know they were out sick for the evening.

you got a new job that afternoon, effective immediately, you thought as cedric apparated to the ministry.

watching Fritz paid the bills and then some. at 7, he was a well-mannered boy -- practically a spitting image of his father too with brown eyes and chestnut hair. you couldn't help but see how much he took after cho as you helped him with grade school homework. he soon got tired, and although he was a little old for naps, he asked to lay down for a bit and you gave him the ok. plus, nap time meant quiet time for you to edit

he rarely acted out. on the other hand, he was very righteous about particular things. like using the lavender scented fabric softener, he would only mention it once in your entire experience of caring for him that it reminded him of his mom. you took it into consideration and permanently added it to the shopping list on the fridge. headstrong like cho, you thought.

the Diggory’s were big healthy snackers of course -- apples, bananas, peanut butter and celery, it was always a good picnic theme for quidditch practice saturdays. it was also vastly different from your love for potato chips and puffy cheetos. so, for when ced started working more hours at the office and an increasing amount of your weekends were spent with the kid, you got used to picking up fruit snacks and goldfish crackers at the store during your errands. Fritz said he 'enjoyed the inanimate-object shaped snackies', dropping a comment on how muggles were interesting beings.

you and Fritz cherished the weekends together. Even if he missed his parents, at least it meant movie marathons, hours of quidditch, and arts & crafts with a real person

you learned quickly that your old friend raised a well rounded individual -- or maybe it was the childhood grief Fritz dealt with on his own that shaped him to be quiet, reserved, and obedient. regardless, he didn't complain about folding his own clothes when the two of you did laundry, or pout when it was time to turn in for bed.

you were reluctant to say it reminded yourself of your former years. growing up with busy parents often meant the kid fended for themselves.

you made yourself a home in the hogwarts library, it gave you silence to ponder about your thoughts. it was also away from the endless banter from your classmates and housemates, who jokingly called you the black market notes dealer

the byname brought in business, if anything. wizards and witches would drop sickles for extra Potions notes and OWLs tutoring came at the higher price of a galleon. they'd stumble across your petite frame in a dark, quiet nook at the back of the library, glasses hanging off the tip of your nose as a light from your wand, which hovered above your workspace by a wordless incantation, illuminated your furious writing.

the older you got, the less books the library had that you didn't read, so your schoolmates would have trouble finding you outside of class. you hid away to watch the Scottish landscape that surrounded the school, an ethereal feeling spread across your chest as your legs dangled off an overpass between cobblestone towers. you were reserved and offstandish and you liked it that way, but, oh boy, did any of those things prevent the wonder boy himself from pestering befriending you

you shared a handful of classes and prefect rounds, walking through the endless halls as he asked you endless questions about your classes and which OWLs you'd be taking. by the time it was your 5th year, others pinned the two of you as star pupils and it helped some foster friendly competition between the hufflepuffs and slytherins. it also proved beneficial to the big shot when he won the triwizard tournament in your 6th year.

and so, more time passed yet again.

cedric gained back muscle as the auror department dwindled in size cause he has to take more field missions. never anything more than underage magic or illegal animal trafficking cases. the threat of dark forces no longer hung over peoples hears and it steered away hogwarts students from joining the department

but the day ced got a promotion to head of the department!!!!!! you and fritz baked a cake with a prank candle that never went out

cedric's very fond of your company at this point and Fritz constantly asked about you when you werent around. "you guys kiss yet??"

most nights at the diggory household consisted of the three of you cooking dinner and eating altogether as a happy bunch. youd tuck in fritz while cedric "got some extra work done" aka peek from around the doorframe at how much his son loved your attention. then you'd find him in the study, pretending to do some busy work as you bring up some joke fritz told you earlier.

he'd walk you to the front door and take up even more of your time trying to get you to crack a smile, all while his boyish charm came back out of hibernation

you couldnt help but grin a cheeky smile when the streetlamp reflected in his hazel eyes, dimples showing and all on either of your faces in the cold

by the time Fritz was 10, you got a flat closer to the Diggory's and the kid was spending weekends at your place. cedric would even take off sundays for quidditch sundays and movie marathons

as fritz got older, his personality developed and he was yet again a remarkable young individual, being compassionate, receptive, and a great listener, some of the best qualities between his parents. that and he was already exhibiting his magic abilties.

sometimes he cracked jokes so hard, sparks would literally snap in the air around him, boy must be an innate stand up comedian.

it was a tuesday during brunch in august, complete with overcast skies and foggy streets, when an owl spilled the daily post out on the table, one envelope read in neat calligraphy on the top read "Friedrich Amos Lee Diggory"

the house stilled and Fritz grabbed the envelope with his name on it as soon as it hit the table, sprinting upstairs to his room.

surprise hit you as you realized he had two middle names and then bewilderment came as the boy squealed out of excitement which could be heard through the ceiling

that september, you and cedric waved off the boy at the train station -- not forgetting to take a quick selfie at the platform 9 3/4 sign once you bypassed the portal brick wall

not even a day after you dropped off fritz that you sent cedric an owl, asking to have dinner together cause you missed the company, only for cedric's familiar owl to perch on your window sill with a similar letter in its beak

[featherfur]

Okay re watching the untamed starting from episode one, i basically have a sticky note up for me to note as I watch, but im also doing this at work so a few things may be missed. I'll have less opinions as we go on but the first few eps has so many things for me to look at so ill put it under read more

Untamed Episode 1

The beginning scenes are already making me sad! Also the bit (using Viki Translations) about "If I was Jiang Cheng I would have killed him years ago" how many times do you think he heard that? How many times did someone whisper around him asking why he didn't?

Also I just realized in all the grabbing for the amulet with Yao and Ouyang, we don't see any Jiang?? but fuck thats a lot of Lan (I could just be misremembering the colors of their clothes and I will check when we actually get to that sequence in the series)

Also straight up just the power of the first time we see Wei Wuxian's face, he's already got tears building and then when we see it again he's actively crying, just sets in motion the truth of how much he's hurting and how much this is NOT what he wanted to happen.

I always see Lan Wangji BOLTS to save Wei Wuxian and catches him and yet no one is like "Hey what was he planning on doing with him??"

Oh Fuck what if Wei Wuxian slipped or pulled away and everyone spent the next 16 years loudly proclaiming that Lan Wangji killed Wei Wuxian. What if Jiang Cheng Believed that???

ITS NOT EVEN THE FIRST FIVE MIN AND I COULD CRY

the look on Wei Wuxian's face when he sees he's being held, the look on his face when he sees it's his Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian is just so tired at this point but Lan Zhan just seems to make it just a little easier to bear just for a moment

HRNG

THE SOFT "Jiang Cheng" THE WAY JIANG CHENGS FACE CONTORTS

WWX UNDERSTANDS HIS ANGER AND PAIN AND HE ACCCEPTS IT AND JC IS JUST WRACKED WITH PAIN

Jiang Cheng just fucking power walking away while Lan Wangji is debating on just falling after Wei Wuxian, poor Wangji.

I fucking love Nie Huaisang siting in the background like some villian in a superhero story, patting his fan on his hand. Was the story even necessary Nie Huaisang? No, no it wasn't but I appreciate the drama it adds, thank you for your gift to the arts

Also the dude mentioning that Jiang Cheng went back multiple times to look for Wei Wuxian makes me remember both that post about Jiang Cheng finding Wei Wuxian's dead body and secretly burying it while keeping Chenqing and the one about how Jiang Cheng lost Wei Wuxian over the years so many times and thought he was dead repeatedly and that this time he probably thought Wei Wuxian was still alive because he had been all those other times, thats one habit he wouldn't break, right?

I love that Jingyi is so freaked out by the creepy moment, my child you're supposed to spend your life hunting ghosts things will be a little spooky. Like Sizhui is nervous but Jingyi is two seconds from bolting if anyone screams near him.

why does viki call them immortal masters and immortal sects? Very strange, but better than youtube?

I suppose worse comes to worse I can turn on Netflix ones, but some of those subs suck

I am absolutely in love with the fact that Wei Wuxian saw his chance to go wild with no normal repercussions because they already think he's nuts and he just ramped it up to llike 16 and leaned into it. Like I love that for him, so much, he deserves to go batshit insane sometimes.

Sizhui is just,,, so gentle he wants to help people he's a good kid, but he's also a little brat with his little trick to keep Mo Xuanyu from being kicked 10/10 would love this child. Also I know that like, it's basically Sizhui's moment to shine to show his personality but i love that Jingyi and the others are just like watching this and chilling. It's live tv and they didn't even have to pay for it also they're like 16 so understandable but still its amusing

[divinevomit]

im tired

sept. 26′21 : 8am

-

thought id try a diary of sorts. cant garrentee how consistant thisll be or how literate itll be either. i cant sleep anymore without some type of medication. with or witohut caffine. im aalways tired an d it shows. when i fo sleep it sall day. never at night. the portals are opening up. tis almost october and it shows. this buildign is full of lost ghosts. i feel for them, honestly. i cant imagine being stuck ina place liek this forever. i feel liek maybe i will, one day again. be stuck somewhere for wahat seems liek too many years, watching the days pass, not knowing when or were i am anymore. seeing the passin gpoeple go by. i was once, it wasnt fun. i dont really remember it, but i know i long forit back from time to time. 

i guess i should introduce myself properly, for futiure referencee or for anyone who happens to stumble on this blog. i dont rwally know how. i guess i m kinda liek a ghost. i dont get to leave my apartment often, eithr becuase i have a bad feeling, or because i have no reason or the funds to. i have insomnia, also borderline personality, and probably a good amount of other problems. ihave a good amount of friends i guess, i live with one, (who ill call vamp for future referece),i have two friend groups, both of thm are majority odler than me, but not in a weird way, more liek by chance. anywyas, i also have an online friend, and a long distance lover. i talk to my onlin efriend more than any. ive knownhim for almost twoyears,but i dont know much about ihim. i dont know his actual name, what he looks liek, so basically nothing besides his age, his voice, and his zodiac sighn. all my friends think hes secretly 40, but hes a year younger thanme and proved it. ill probably end up talking atb him mostl.y. i mtoo tired to thikn of a different name than what i already callhim, ill think of one later. my lovr lives in the same state as my onlien friend, and not too far. theyboth live in a different state thanme and vamp. weve beentogether for two years, about 8 months off and on long distance. this is the longest weve been away from ech other at 4 months. i dont get to talk to them too often. thy dont have wifi, and theyve never had a phone with data. their family is odd and doesnt liek me either. what els do i add? ill be a legaladult in 6 months, but me and vamp basically liv aloen. my mom pays for rent and utilties, but is never around and lives with her boyfriend 12/14 days. whenshe does come by, its not good. vamp and i both dont have jobs, vamps family is across the country, and most of mine is comepletely out of the pitcture. neither of us had good childhoods but they r pretty similar. vamps was a lot more extreme thanmin e, and mine was,, easier,, to say te least. i dont know what else i should add. im very pale due to lack of goingoutsid eduring daylight hours and probably lack of nutrients but naturallu im very tane. im reely clairvoyant, liek scary clairvoyant. ican read someones mind to a t with ease, can feel others physicalpain even when im inadifferent room, adn emotions clearly. especially when i know thm, dcently just by looking at them too long. its reallu exhausting. (beleive me or not idont care, its not liek anyone will see this anywyas.) my mom is pagan (for 22yrs), and my dad is a satanist (for 42 yrs) and i am second born to them. i turned out a pagan who lieks red magic and my deity is venus aphrodite. (did yu knoew aphrodite was nonbianary?)  i refuse to do black magic or anything to mess with anyons freewll. i refuse to end up liek muy dad. my favorite color is baby pink andblack. 

me and vamp share a room. im not allowed to be alnoen because everyone thinks ill spirsl. vamp has lived with me for 4 months and, dnt get me wrong, i lvoe having him here, hes liek my brother and i cherish him forever, but i missbeing alone. jes asleep right now so im downstairs typig this. 

i have a bad habit of rambling. i talk too much. i wont read this over becaause i know itll be all ovr the place and ill just delete it. i dont really know what to use this blog for, i never really have. i go backand forth on wat to do with it, first it was aesthetics, then a dream journal and now this, but im bad at keeping p with anything and loose motivation quickly.  i might try more for tihs. but i cant promise anything, i did this on a whim. 

[sadsapphicslut]

chapter one - original story (i havent come up with a title yet lol)

okay so here it is!! if anyone actually reads this i love u :) please leave feedback if u have any!! 

TWs:

death, drugs, medication, mental illness, references to sex, swearing, alcohol

wordcount: 8.2k

(also i dont think anyone will but im paranoid of people stealing my writing so obligatory dont copy/post to another site or steal my work in any other ways etc)

There were five of us; 4 boys and me. In hindsight I realize from the outside our group probably seemed a little predatory, but it was never really like that. For the most part they were like brothers to me. Of course, being the only girl in a small and isolated club of mainly older boys, things were bound to happen. We were in high school and it was summer, can you blame me? Regardless, however much I loved them, it was not quite in the way my father always assumed or my mother always warned (during our uncomfortable monthly visitations before I managed to get rid of her for good).

The months everything went down, which I often referred to only as ‘The Worst Summer of My Life’, (quite melodramatically but not without reason) were somehow still full of the best moments of my life. Moments I often find myself wishing I could repeat, as nothing has or will ever come close to the way I felt, sitting amongst my boys day after day, somehow light as the warm July breeze that blew past us. My entire body weightless, as non-existent as the time that passed us by. Despite the depression I’d found myself plunged into during the days after my only brother’s death, I truly believe I will never again be as happy as I was then. Laughter seemed to flow freely from our mouths, smiles plastered onto our faces no matter the circumstances, content to just exist. I don’t think I can ever forget the day it was raining so hard the entire city was flooded, but we walked around uptown well past the point of being absolutely drenched, our clothes dripping so heavily the security guard denied us entry into the public library. Something about that day made me feel so free, like we were invisible. Completely apathetic to the whims of the real world, somehow existing only in our twisted minds and intertwined fantasies.

Maybe if I’d had my head screwed on a little tighter, or if we’d met under different circumstances, it wouldn’t have ended the way it did. I used to go down that line of thought every night before succumbing to a fitful but heavy sleep (under the direct affect of 25mg of Quetiapine, working to counteract my Concerta and Lexapro). Those types of irrational thoughts were ones my therapist deemed as my habit for rumination. In regard to the death of my brother she called it ‘bargaining’, one of the stages of grief. I never liked it when she spoke about those stages as I’ve always felt them to be wrong. Maybe because I never quite moved on to the final one, no matter how many years pass. ‘Acceptance’, coined as the “Re-entrance to reality”. Maybe it’s different since I was never really grounded to reality in the first place. I still wake up some mornings, thinking I’ve heard his voice in the other room, ready to beguile me with tales from his day of retail work. Other times I swear I’ve walked past him on the street. Some people may relate to my experiences, with reasonings of ghosts, angels, apparitions, or insanity, among many other causes for the apparent viewing of a loved one long gone to the other side. I never shared these beliefs, but I am not one to deny. Rather, I always take these instances as an omen. A warning. I have come to this conclusion not without evidence, at least circumstantial, given the many occasions over the years – and especially that summer – where I found my hypothesis to be true. All I can say is that I am glad I’ve never been met with the same chimerical visions of my mother; one can only hope that is because she ended up where she belonged. Maybe I’ll see her there, though I hope at the very least they could keep us in separate rooms of Hell if the situation does arise.

From what I know of the others now, which is admittedly not much – majorly due to my own neglect, as opposed to theirs – they share the same prescription for rose-coloured glasses as I. We always were too engrossed with our own romanticization of nostalgia and sentiment that it clouded our view. I often think this was one of the reasons we seemed to fit so well together. Not quite like puzzle pieces, too self-absorbed to hold a candle to that analogy, more like complimentary colours. I wish it could’ve stayed the way it was. We did try, and I never found myself able to fully disentangle myself from James, nor he could to I, but for most of us we could recognize an ending when one arises. I used to find myself using the word tragedy a lot while reminiscing, but I no longer think that word is appropriate. Fate is a more fitting term in my opinion, regardless of if one believes in it or not. “(A)n inevitable and often adverse outcome, condition, or end,” as reported by Merriam Webster. I don’t think there’s a word in the entire English language more accurate in describing how everything ended up; and if there is, I am yet to find it.

  Chapter One

A Dead Brother

          I have tried to erase the day my brother died from my memory so many times I lost count decades ago. I still find the image seeping into my unconsciousness quite dreadfully on the nights I neglect to take my pills and catch myself waking up with a steady flow of tears that dampen my pillow along with the drool that always seems to pour from my sleeping mouth. The dread that pools in my stomach sometimes being heavy enough for me to lose my lunch. I frequently wonder how people managed to reassure me that it wasn’t my fault; the most painful lie I’ve ever been told and one that seemed to stream from people’s mouths as easily as the mini sandwiches laid in the living room of my brother’s wake were stuffed in. The worst part about being told it wasn’t my fault was how obviously one could tell they didn’t believe what they were saying either. His death was my fault; a fact so uncontestable I wanted to kill myself every time I was reminded of it.

           My therapist often tried to remind me that even if his death was “partially” (she always used the word partially, refusing to acknowledge the truth that his death was entirely my fault) my fault, there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent it. This was another lie I despised being told. There were a million ways I could have prevented his death or saved his life and yet, here we are, with him dead and me wishing everyday that I won’t wake up tomorrow. “Begonia,” she’d tell me – she was the only person who called me by my full name, I usually went by Nia, but a nickname felt too personal and I didn’t like her very much – “You mustn’t keep torturing yourself with these scenarios. He’s dead, and there is nothing you can do to change that. I am starting to wonder if you are going to let yourself move on. This isn’t healthy.” That was a line she liked to use a lot, “this isn’t healthy”. As if anything I do is.

           Barb, my therapist that is, liked to go over the details of my brother’s death a lot. She often called it a ‘trigger’, which is why she always seemed to want me to talk about it. “Trauma is a horrible thing, Begonia, and you must learn to move past it, process it. I can see you still haven’t managed to do that on your own, and that’s what I’m here for, to help you move on.” Barb was big on the idea of  “moving past trauma” and “learning to cope”, she often sounded like a broken record of a motivational speech. I found myself comparing her to school guidance councillors without realizing it, they were about equally as helpful (read: not helpful) in my opinion.

           Sometimes I blame my inability to forget and “move past” my brother’s death on the way Barb constantly brought it up and made me go through it. I never quite understood how that part of my therapy was supposed to help me. I asked her once, what good was it doing rehashing the worst day of my life?

           “Well, Begonia,” I hated the way she said my name, always so condescending and sour, like even the idea of me questioning her in any way was as impolite as shitting on her desk.

“You have to understand that I only want to help you. You seem to be unable to process your traumas on your own, which is why we need to go through these things. As you are aware, this PTSD,” she always left strange pauses after each letter, her slow tone grinding on my ears, “you have acquired has left you unable to function normally in daily life. I want you to get to a place where you can have a normal life (Ha!) and cope without these meetings. It’s what your brother would’ve wanted.” Barb liked to tell me what my brother would have wanted at least once every session. Putting aside the fact she knew next to nothing about him aside from the intimate details on how he died, I always thought it was an inappropriate thing to say as a psychologist specializing in grief counselling. It never particularly bothered me, I was reasonable enough to realize she was just trying to comfort me, but I never liked the phrase. “What your brother would’ve wanted.” What he would’ve wanted was to not die but we’re past that, aren’t we Barb, as you so often enjoyed telling me.  

I have always been quite averse to my diagnoses, ADHD at 14, Persistent Depressive Disorder at 15, PTSD at 16, issues with alcohol and drugs that landed me in rehab more than once. I’ve been on a concoction of different medications since I was 13, even before I was diagnosed with anything officially. Sertraline, Lexapro, Prozac, Ritalin, Concerta, Adderall, Quetiapine, Ambien, Zopiclone, a healthy mix of off brand and branded medications. Sleeping pills, antidepressants, stimulants. I can’t remember a time before monthly trips to the drug store and side effect surveys that I’m not sure if I ever told the truth on. It’s a wonder that people didn��t see a slew of addiction issues coming from a mile away.

I think I’ve always had the most contention with my PTSD diagnosis though, I hate it because I know it’s undeniably true. I wish it wasn’t because maybe that’d mean my brother was still alive, but he isn’t. And I’m left traumatized and bereaved. Sometimes it feels like it hurt me more than it ever did my mother or father. Maybe it did. I should feel selfish for saying that, but I can’t, because they didn’t have to look at him while the life left his body, praying to God for the ability to turn back time. See the moment his eyes glazed over, knowing I’d never get to hear his obnoxious laugh, or make fun of his dumb face ever again.

  ❈

             “Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.”

It was a cool evening in May, the end of spring brought with it the promise of summer and the air had the familiar aroma of daffodils and petrichor. I had decided to go to a party with my friend Faun, my dad having been out at his girlfriend’s place for the weekend and me having nothing better to do. I wasn’t one for partying, but I did like to get high, so I usually just hung around with the rest of the potheads and pill junkies until someone dragged me home or I fell asleep. That night Don, a friend of a friend of a friend, had brought coke and E and we were all determined to get as fucked up as possible. Faun only ended up doing one line before running into a bedroom with some guy whose name started with an M – was it Martin or Marvin? Maybe it was Mickey – and left me sitting on the couch beside a girl who was about 1 more shot of vodka away from passing out.

I had fully intended on doing some coke, but the E seemed to be hitting harder than I was used to. I was sure my Ritalin had worn off by then but maybe I was wrong. As I stood up to get a glass of water I nearly fell over and decided to sit back down. Turning to face Don, I tapped him on the shoulder trying to get his attention.

“What was in that molly?” I was vaguely aware of the way my words were slurring, but I felt weirdly energized. I was aware my heart was beating a little too fast, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I knew what ecstasy felt like, this was not nearly my first time doing it, but I felt really wrong.

           “Don!” He turned to look at me and I felt uneasy. His eyes looked a little crazed – not that out of the ordinary but given the circumstances I was worried – “What the fuck did you give me?” It felt like I’d done 5 lines of coke in the last 2 minutes and I knew that E had been spiked.

           Don’s face had an unmistakable expression of guilt written on it as he leaned down and whispered in my ear, his voice shaking, “I think it was cut with meth.” Fuck. My stomach dropped. I have to get out of here. I quickly shot up from the musty couch I was sat on, carefully holding onto Don’s shoulder so I didn’t fall, my legs still feeling unsteady. I opened my phone; the screen was too bright, and I had a hard time maneuvering it as I attempted to exit the house. Clicking the green Messages icon, I sent a text to Faun – e ws cut w meth im lesving – with shaky hands and burst out the door into the fresh air. I clicked my brother’s contact and pressed call.

           It rang four times before he picked up.

           “Nia? Why are you calling me it’s like 1am?” I could tell from the smooth tone of his voice he’d been drinking. He didn’t very often but he had an appreciation for cocktails and enjoyed getting buzzed now and then. He still was a year from being legal to drink but his friends we’re all 19 and 20 and bought alcohol for him. I found him fun when he got drunk, becoming talkative and giggly, but right now I wished so badly for him to be sober.

           “Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.” I was slurring, my voice a bit too pitchy to pass as anything but high. I knew he didn’t like it when I did this, but he never ratted me out. Sometimes I wish he did, maybe I never would’ve been able to go to that party in the first place.

           I could hear a door shutting on his end, I assumed he was going into a different room. “What’s wrong?” My skin was bubbling with anxiety at the prospect of having to tell him what I did.

           “Fuck, uh… I did something stupid. I’m at Emily Goguen’s, y’know up in Champlain Heights. Please pick me up.” I rarely used the word please.

“Nia, what the fuck did you do?” I almost started crying but I found my eyes to be bone dry.

“Please don’t yell.”

“Okay, really, tell me what is going on or I won’t come get you.”

“I accidentally took meth.”

“You what? What the fuck, Nia! Fuck this I’m on my way and I’m fucking telling Dad.” I cringed but I knew he was going to before I even called. The pit in my stomach grew deeper as the buzzing of my skin grew stronger. I could feel myself getting higher, everything was so clear and standing around was making me grow restless. Ray huffed on the phone and I heard him entering his car.

His tone was softer the next time he spoke. “I’ll be there in 5, just stay put, please. Do you want me to stay on the call or can I hang up?”

I felt like a child, which I was really, only 16 at the time, a whole life ahead of me. Still, I was grateful for the way he spoke to me, reminiscent of being 6 and getting a scrapped knee after falling off my pink Razor scooter. The high made me edgy, and my voice was sharp to my ears, “No, you can hang up.” I heard the click to indicate he’d done just that, and started pushing my cuticles as I waited, the task somehow greatly interesting me, and I did not realize until later I had managed to pick off all of the skin around my pointer and middle fingernails during the five-minute wait.

 Ray pulled up exactly five minutes later in his ugly, blue 2011 Ford Fiesta he’d gotten the year prior after passing his driving test. What I wouldn’t do now to smell the inside of that car once again, a distinct attar of pineapple car freshener and Old Spice deodorant mixed with stale black tea, faintly present due to his ever-growing collection of empty paper cups from various different fast foods and coffee shops.

I stumbled into the car, feeling the strong impulse to clean the space, but attempting to push it down. From the passenger side overhead mirror I could see my blown pupils and sweaty forehead, pieces of my copper red hair sticking to my face. My freckles were showing through my concealer that had mostly worn off and I wanted to cover them back up. My skin was pale from winter (and probably the drugs in my system) but my cheeks were flushed like I was drunk. My high cheekbones made my face look gaunt in the lighting, but my face was wide which balanced it out, so I didn’t look completely skeletal. Ray was looking at me, the worry apparent in his eyes, but his face was flushed as well, and I could tell he’d been drinking a bit too much to drive. I had my license as well, but it was clear I was in no condition to take over on that front, so I didn’t bother saying anything. I wish I had. There’s a lot of things I wish. I wish I hadn’t gone to that party; I wish I hadn’t taken that E; I wish I called someone else; I wish I waited it out at Emily’s; I wish I walked home; I wish I took a cab; I wish I waited for Faun; I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t take his eyes off me as I shut the mirror in front of me.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine. Please just take me home.”

“Is Dad there?”

“No.”

“Maybe I should take you to Mom’s.”

“No!” I’d moved out of my mom’s completely just over 6 months ago, barely seeing her once a month. It was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. She never liked me much anyways, the feeling was entirely mutual. Ray seemed to have a close bond with her for some reason despite how she treated him like shit. I never called him out though, he no longer lived with her, so I didn’t really care what their relationship was as long as she wasn’t hurting him. She did treat him significantly better than me, however, so I figured maybe he managed to forgive her the way I never could.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until Dad gets home. I’m not gonna lie to him about this shit. Fucking meth, Nia? Seriously?”

“It was in the molly.” He sighed and started driving.

 My brain felt like it was filled with butterflies, or ants, some kind of movement that was itching at my skull. The paper cups scattered around were making me anxious and I needed to clean his car. I began picking at my nails again, but I needed to pick up those cups, you see. I turned around and started gathering the ones Ray had discarded in the back, filling up an empty plastic bag from Best Buy. I was fully switched around in my seat, nearly crawling into the backseat to reach the trash my brother had left. I felt him tap my side, I looked over at him and he started to scold me.

“Nia, stop that will you, you’re distracting me.” But I needed to finish gathering the cups. The car was dirty, and my skin was itching, the traffic lights burning my skin. I was elated and I didn’t want to listen to him, he was just trying to get in my way. I continued to lean over, not registering the swerve of the car as he looked over at me.

“Nia – ”

He turned over to push me back into my seat, his eyes leaving the road for no more than a few seconds. This time I felt the swerve as we broke into the next lane.

 This is where I have a hard time piecing together what happened. From what I was told, we ended up running directly into a 2015 Dodge Ram 2500. In case you understandably have a lack of knowledge when it comes to cars, that is a very large, sturdy, and expensive pickup truck which I would probably consider the last vehicle you’d want to charge headfirst into while going 70km per hour. I don’t recall the actual incident of hitting the truck, whether that be from the drugs, the position I was in, or hitting my head on the roof of the car, I don’t know. What I do know is that when I woke up, we were in a ditch on the side of the road, with the car flipped upside down, and my entire body was screaming at me to Get Out!

I felt blood oozing sluggishly from my head and noted some indistinct pain in my right wrist where it had scraped something pretty badly and gotten twisted, but I otherwise felt alright. I couldn’t tell if the cloudiness in my head was from a concussion or the earlier events of the night, but I figured it was probably good I was awake, regardless of how dazed I seemed.

I turned my head to the left and was greeted by a view I will never be able to forget, it having been branded to the insides of my eyelids, scorched in my mind. Ray, with his left arm twisted in spectacular fashion, reminding me of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, after Lockhart spells away Harry’s bones. My brother had always been squeamish with broken bones and I hoped he wasn’t aware of how his limb looked at the moment. His head was bleeding quite profusely, and I was alarmed despite how many times I’d heard in movies that headwounds bleed a lot. His eyelids were fluttering, irises appearing glassy and unfocussed. And then I saw it. A piece of glass was stuck in the left side of his neck. The windshield apparently had broken with the impact and my brother was lucky enough to get a piece lodged right in his trachea. It was thick, bright red blood –  that I could’ve sworn was sparkling in my current inebriated perspective – was gushing out the side, so heavy I could smell it, taste it, in the air. I was frozen once I realized.

Do something, do something! Put pressure on it! Call 9-1-1! My mind was screaming at me, but it was all I could do to sit and watch the blood stain his clothes. He was wearing the corduroy jacket I’d gotten him for his birthday and a white button up, the red seeped into them until it was as if they’d always been that colour. My voice was caught in my throat, but I managed to push some sound past.

“Ray?” It was weaker than a whisper but in the silence that seemed to envelope us in that car, completely independent of the outside world and sirens that could surely be heard from blocks away, I knew he would be able to hear me.

He looked up, eyes focussing slightly on me, and a tear slipped down his face, only it went the wrong way since we were still upside down. He mouthed the words “I love you”. We never said that to each other. As close as we were, our relationship had always been more comparable to that of a best friend than sibling. We weren’t overly affectionate, never hugged or said I love you, hung out for enjoyment rather than as a punishment. Most people didn’t know we were brother and sister until we pointed it out, we never really looked alike and were absent of the traditional distaste and rivalry usually present between siblings. I knew, as he looked me in the eyes and said those words, this would be the last time I’d ever see him outside of a morgue.

I sat in my seat next to him with dry eyes, wishing desperately I could cry, needing to express the feeling of utter horror and despondency that completely overtook my body and mind, but I couldn’t. Barb told me time and time again that I was in shock, there was nothing I could’ve done, but I will never be able to believe that. I still remember the moment the final tear slipped down his face. He smiled at me, pain evident in his eyes. His entire body was covered in the metallic smelling red, and I wanted to vomit. I wish I could say the crash had sobered me, but it didn’t, not really. I was still entirely in a daze as I saw his muscles relax, smiling falling from his face, eyes not quite rolling back all the way but enough to give me nightmares for the next 20 years. The life had been absorbed from his body, leaving a heavy shell. I was told afterwards this all happened within the span of 10 minutes, but it felt like years. By the time the first responders had appeared I was an old woman. Grayed hair, and arthritic bones. Mourning for the brother I’d lost oh so many years ago, when I was just a girl. I think in a way I died in that car with him, I never was really the same. But who would be? Best friend and confidant, older brother, idol, dying in front of your eyes as you do nothing, knowing for the rest of your life that his death is – was – your fault. Knowing you could’ve done something, anything really, to prevent his untimely loss of life before the paramedics arrived. If I’d been the same after that night I would have to be much more disturbed than I ever thought.

I sat in that car beside Ray’s corpse for 3 more minutes before I heard the sirens closing in around us – me. I thought I might pass out, either from the toll of what I’d just witnessed or from my concussion, but I remained upright, probably from the adrenaline. I couldn’t move so I just waited, and hoped I’d die too before anyone reached the scene. It would be much preferrable to any other outcome I could think of at the time. I could vaguely register the pain in my wrist, but I felt so numb I’m sure you could’ve shot me in the foot and I wouldn’t have blinked.

A young fireman named Walter ended up getting me out of the car. The door was smashed and stuck which meant I’d been trapped in there either way. I was happy I hadn’t bothered trying to escape as I'm terribly claustrophobic and finding out I couldn’t would have thrown me into a proper panic attack. The fireman was incredibly nice, saying reassuring things the entire time they were opening the door with the “Jaws of Life”. I ended up seeing him again in the hospital actually, or at least that’s what my father told me. He wanted to check in on me and left me some hydrangeas in a vase. I always preferred chrysanthemums but I'm not that picky when it comes to a floral arrangement.

After the door was busted open I was carried out by Walter. I was shaking and apparently babbling nonsense but in my head I was trying to tell them to save Ray. I wasn’t really aware of all that much, completely blind to the crowd of spectators that had rudely gathered to witness the violence – wasn’t it supposed to be taboo to stop at a car crash? Wondering vaguely about what happened and wishing you could get a better look as you drive past the scene.  My head wound had made me a bit incompetent and the meth in my system was really not helping the entire situation.

I was laid on a gurney and rolled onto an ambulance. I don’t remember much about the ride; the sirens, the bright lights, a paramedic named Alice who spoke softly, smoothing out my hair while the other put an oxygen mask on my face (which I wasn’t entirely cognizant enough to question though now I'm not really sure why they did it) and splinted my wrist. Alice asked me if I was on drugs and I nodded but was unable to speak when she asked me what ( I would find this a common occurrence after the accident, my voice seemingly stolen alongside Ray’s). She just nodded and said something to the other ME that I didn’t quite pick up. She asked if I could tell her my name and I shook my head. She must’ve noticed the iPhone in my pocket and grabbed it, turning to the medical ID page.

“Is your name Begonia?” I nodded, though the name sounded foreign on my ears. I liked the way Alice said it though, she had a light Spanish accent and a matronly tone that made me feel safe. I wondered if she had kids of her own; she looked young, but my own mother had me at 19 so who could say? She told me her name after complimenting mine. “Begonia is a beautiful name; I love the flowers. I’m Alice, okay? We’re gonna make sure you’re alright and take you to the hospital.” Her voice was sweet like syrup and I became sleepy as she spoke.

“No honey, you can’t fall asleep yet. Just stay awake a little bit longer and I promise you they’ll let you sleep at the hospital.”

  I don’t remember anything of the rest of the ride to the hospital. I was dropped off at the Emergency Room at the Regional, head still too foggy to allow me to recall anything before I was sitting in a white bed, in a white room, with white sheets and a light blue hospital gown on. It was morning and my father was sitting at the end of my bed in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his eyes bloodshot and moist. He’d very obviously been crying for a long time and my chest panged with guilt. I reached up to feel my head and realized there was a cast on my wrist. With my other hand I touched the cotton that covered my forehead, wincing when I felt the sting of what had to be stitches in a nasty gash. I would spend the next 5 years of my life with a variety of diverse haircuts that attempted to hide the ugly scar that served as a reminder of the worst night of my life. Even now it is still extremely obvious, but I can’t be bothered to try and hide it, I so rarely look in the mirror that it wouldn’t matter if my skin turned blue.

My dad hadn’t looked up, so I attempted to gain his attention but once again found my voice failing me. I tapped on the bed a few times before he seemed to realize and face me.

“Nia… how are you feeling?” His voice was raspy and thin. He reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee, though this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I remained silent as he looked at me, searching my face for something I'm not sure he found.

“Nia, I, I'm not sure how to say this to you.” Here it comes. Almost worse than watching my brother die, the confirmation. “Ray, he’s, well dead.” I saw my father’s eyes begin to tear up again as I stared straight ahead. I couldn’t feel the sobs that racked my body, nor the hot tears streaming from my eyes. I saw my dad start to move closer but sit back down when I flinched. Of course, I knew my brother was dead; I had front row seats to watching the event happen, but somehow I still didn’t believe it until the words left my father’s mouth. According to my dad, who many years later described to me how eery the whole event was, my sobs were completely silent, and I was entirely unaware of everything happening around me. This dissociation lasted the first few days after the accident, and the entirety of my hospital stay. Leaving the blissful gap in my memory I have now.

Barb told me this was my mind’s way of coping with the tragedy and stress of what happened. I was honestly just happy I had an excuse to skip some of the dreadful retelling she forced upon me.

 ❈

             The funeral was of course a depressing and solemn event. I was still yet to speak and found myself thankful for the way people gave up on trying to get me to communicate. I dressed in a black skirt with a black short sleeved button up. A dark coat thrown around my shoulders as the cast on my right hand was too big to fit through the sleeve. I looked terrible, barely a week out of hospital before I watched Ray sink into the ground. The wound on my forehead was still quite nasty, though it looked better than it did before. I tried to cover it up with my hair but was unsuccessful. I got bangs soon after.

           The matter was very traditional, taking place in a church even though none of our family was really religious. It was only the second time I'd ever been in a church, the first having been for my cousin Julie’s wedding when I was four years old. I don’t remember anything of it aside from the material of my dress itching at my neck and making me rather miserable. Of course, not nearly as miserable as I was the day of the funeral, sitting in a pew at the front of the church, listening to a priest claiming Ray would’ve wanted us to celebrate his life. I knew this not to be true; Ray was extremely dramatic and would’ve cherished the thought of everyone he’d ever spoken to moping around for weeks after his death, beside themselves with grief. He sometimes referred to himself as “Romeo” after having been broken up with by another girl he was supposedly in love with, stating he better just stab himself in the heart now if he couldn’t have her. On the rare occasion he broke up with a girlfriend, he’d lounge around, eating ice cream, pretending to not be upset and comparing his cold heart to that of Richard VIII. The concept of him being any different over his death was almost comical; Ray was nothing if not predictable.

           I sat beside my father, who sat beside my mother (it was an extremely awkward arrangement that neither I nor my father cared for) and seemed to have the idea that I could evaporate if I thought hard enough about it. Unfortunately, I did not evaporate, or even come close to it, instead finding myself exactly where I'd been the whole time. I mostly tuned out the service, only really paying attention when my father and Ray’s best friend, Jake spoke. I managed to escape the duty of having to speak that day thanks to my fragile mental state and mutism. Though I'm sure I would’ve been forced all the same if I had been able to talk in any capacity, regardless of where my head was at.

           Faun was sitting in the pew behind me, feeling quite guilty about the whole ordeal. Or friendship dissolved soon after, I think she blamed herself for taking me to the party. It didn’t bother me too much though; we were never the closest and I sometimes thought her to be extremely annoying. An endless stream of shitty boyfriends that she only acquired so she could further repress her sexuality. When we were 14 we kissed at a sleepover and she admitted she was in love with me. I felt bad for not returning the feeling and our relationship had been on rocky territory ever since. I don’t understand how she thought she was in love with me since she barely knew anything about me, but either way she never brought it up again and soon after the monsoon of boytoys had begun.

           My brother’s friends and ex-girlfriends also attended the event. I didn’t approach any of them, far too scared they’d blame me for the death of their friend. One of them, Alex, went up to me to say how sorry he was about everything that happened. He was crying quite heavily (I later found out he was the friend Ray had been drinking with and the second last person to see him alive) and I could smell alcohol on his breath. I stood there while he spoke, telling me about how great my brother was as if I was wholly unaware. Body waving side to side as he stood with his hand on the wall beside me. He offered me some bronze liquid in a flask, and I obliged, savouring the burning sensation that followed in my throat. Alex’s voice was steady and deep, reminding me of my father’s. I’m not sure how long we stood there, him spinning a fantastic web of anecdotes and stories about my brother, some entirely new to my ears. We passed the beverage back and fourth until it was empty. My head felt lighter and heavier somehow simultaneously, and I found it much easier to listen to Alex talk. Later he tried to kiss me in my bedroom during the wake. His mouth was sour, and his tongue seemed too big for his mouth. I wondered how he was able to talk so much without it getting in the way.

             We moved in procession to the cemetery after the service. The grass was a vibrant green colour, and I didn’t understand how the world kept turning after Ray’s death, for mine stopped the moment his heart failed to beat. The sky was a lovely shade of cyan-blue, with clouds so perfect they seemed animated. Pink carnations were planted near the outskirts of the yard and I could smell spring in the air; a heavy, floral aroma that never failed to comfort me. I thought it should be raining, it felt inappropriate that the weather refused to match my despair. My mind wandered as we approached the empty grave and I considered what it would be like if Ray was here beside me. He’d probably be making jokes, telling me to lighten up for a minute or my face would get stuck that way. He’d mock my silence, saying how I never managed to shut up for a minute before but suddenly I'm as proper as a nun. I'd smile, ruffling his hair to piss him off and try to refrain from laughing aloud. The absence of him only felt stronger as I imagined this scenario, so I shoved it out of my head.

           The casket was lowered into the ground, my father was a pallbearer and I often think about how he must’ve felt carrying his son’s body before watching him being buried. My mother sobbed loudly which annoyed me, it felt a bit exaggerated. I had a few tears falling from my eyes but mostly, I just felt numb. Incredibly and absolutely empty inside. To onlookers it may have seemed as though we weren’t very close, my reaction being similar to that of his ex-girlfriends’. However, this didn’t account for the loss of my voice, or the broken state I was in mentally. Maybe it was better that my reaction was rather dulled. It meant people didn’t feel the need to approach me as they did my mother. Less concerned given she was the one playing up her emotions to the point of embarrassment. My father cried, more than I but far less than my mother. He didn’t cry very often – I'd actually only seen it once prior to the whole event – and I figured he probably needed it. At this point I felt as though I'd shed enough tears to last a lifetime so Ray wouldn’t mind if I was a bit subdued in comparison. He never was a crier anyways.

           As I sprinkled soil onto his casket I imagined he was right beside me, watching, ready to criticize as usual. The dirt stained my hand, clutching the sweat and turning my skin a muddy brown colour. As I wiped the dirt on my jacket I could hear him nagging about how I better go wash my hands, what was I, a six-year-old? He was in denial about me growing up and took every chance to remind me I was still just a kid. Not that he had much on me, but I enjoyed it. I never was one to shy away from attention; at least not before. Little quirks and inside jokes between us were always some of my favourite things, the type of humour you could only get from living with someone your whole life. No matter how much his memory will fade there are some things I can’t let myself forget. His mocking tone when he’d make fun of me is one of those things. If I ever managed to let go of that sound then I must be dead as well.

           The sun beat down on my back, my skin burning in my black clothes. I wasn’t sweating yet, but most of the men around were – suit jackets aren’t exactly known for their breathability. My nose was dry and aching red, sore from how much I'd been wiping it the last couple days. Still the sweet seeping tinge of flowers and spring managed to crawl into my nose, settling underneath my skin, the buzzing from before had returned, I could feel my heartbeat loudly in my throat and had the desperate urge to just run. Instead, I just followed the rest of the party, sitting down in the passenger seat of my dad’s car. The silence that settled over us was uncomfortable and stale. He turned on the radio, Led Zeppelin filled the air around us, thankfully relieving some of the tension. I felt in my left pocket for one of the carnations I’d picked from a nearby grave earlier. The flower had begun to wilt, heat taking effect on its delicate composition. When I got home I put it in between the pages of my oldest copy of Romeo and Juliet. Ray would have found it funny if he was around to see.

The drive to my mother’s house was short and minimally awkward. We sat in silence – aside from the music – only because there was no alternative. My hand remained clutched around the dying flower in my pocket as we left the car and entered the home. Other people had already arrived, clustered in the living room, picking at tiny ham sandwiches and various desserts my mother had undoubtedly stress-baked the day before. I wasn’t hungry so I sat as far away from the food and people as humanely possible while staying in the living room, not wishing to hear my mother’s scolding about how I need to socialize more. Eventually I managed to slip away into my old bedroom, where Alex was sitting on my bed drinking a mickey of Smirnoff I assumed he swiped from my mother’s freezer. He offered it to me, and I accepted, the weird repetitive déjà vu like act, mirroring earlier and making the whole day feel like somewhat of a dream.

When I went over this part with Barb she always felt the need to emphasize that it wasn’t a dream. I knew this, obviously, which I told her every time, but she was inclined to disbelief when it came to my denial over my brother’s death. “Begonia, you must realize he’s gone. Dwelling is helping nobody, especially not you. This isn’t a healthy mindset for you to have. Always comparing living to your dreams. I want you to tell me you understand this isn’t just some dream you can wake up from.” The first time she said that to me I was thrust into a bout of wordlessness, as it struck a bit too close to home. The next time she brought it up I just told her of course, though even now I still cannot say I fully understand. How can I when all of my assumptions have been constantly disproven time and time again. How can I ever say this isn’t a dream when I'm not even sure I'm real? James always tries to reassure me, “Bee, I'm telling you, if you can feel this beat, the pulse in your wrist, your neck, your chest, you are alive,” he’ll say while pressing my hand to my wrist, but we both know it isn’t that simple.

Me and Alex made out for a few minutes until I managed to excuse myself. He was a bad kisser and tasted disgusting. I left him sitting on my old bed while I went downstairs to find my dad. He was sitting at the counter with a can of root beer, blank expression sat upon his face. When his eyes met mine he sighed, grabbing his keys out of his pocket. It was obvious neither of us wanted to be here, for numerous reasons, so we left. And if the radio stayed off as we drove home we didn’t acknowledge the silence that time. In my hand was the crumpled carnation, and for some reason it made my chest hurt. A deep ache of dread. I could feel my heartbeat, hear it over the drum of the car engine, and I crushed the flower further. I was careful not to rip it though, as if that was crossing some kind of invisible line my mind had set for me. My fingers felt waxy when I finally let go.

Back home, I opened the copy of Romeo and Juliet. I retrieved the deteriorating plant from my pocket and placed it in the center. Closing the book, I stacked it under a few dictionaries, a magazine under it so it was trapped on either side. I sat down in front of it and cried. Not the huge gasping sobs my mother seemed to fancy, nor the quiet weeping of my father. No, I cried the tears of a child who just found out their grandparents died, the soft uncomprehending grief that overcame them as they first learned what death really meant. How long forever was. My legs pulled up to my chest, hands loosely hung around knees, unable to clasp together because of my cast. I closed my eyes and I swear I could hear the sound of Ray sighing behind me, but when I opened my eyes I was alone. I went to bed, earlier than I ever had in my life, still believing it was a dream and I'd wake up like Alice after her adventures in Wonderland. But when I awoke, I was met with the slow, oozing perdure of my reality. The one which I could not wake up from, and the one where my brother was dead.