#This thread is forever old so no worries if you don't want to do anything else with it

[thosetaleskids]

@talesofourworlds / from (x)

"I didn't exactly ask for this, either! OW, be careful, that stings!"

She appreciated that he was trying to help, in his way... but that didn't mean that Anise was happy about the quality of said help, or about the situation in general. She'd been lagging behind the rest of the party - give her a break, her legs were shorter than anyone else's, and even she got tired sometimes - when some of Arietta's monster friends had taken the opportunity to pounce her.

She'd put up a valiant fight, sure. But even so, the attack had separated her from the rest of the group; one of the ligers had knocked her down from Tokunaga and scratched up her right shoulder pretty good, and as she'd recoiled from that she'd misstepped and taken a tumble down part of the cliff and sprained her already-wounded shoulder by landing on it.

The ligers hadn't pursued; she hadn't seen Gloomietta with them so she had probably just commanded them from afar. But that was where Asch had found her, lying in a battered heap there.

If she'd been in a better mood, Anise would have made sure to tease Asch again for his temper reminding her of Luke; but right now her thoughts were in too much of a mess to come up with something suitable. Probably a good thing, too, if the way Asch abruptly drew his sword was any indication.

"Hey, WHOA--!"

She raised her uninjured arm in a vain attempt to block the blow-- which turned out a moment later to not have been aimed at her at all. Still, Anise yelped as he stabbed the weapon into the ground beside her... before she caught on to what he was doing.

"...oh, right."

She could indeed feel the seventh fonons doing their thing; the sprained muscle in her shoulder felt like it was easing itself, and her cuts at least stopped leaking blood even if they didn't exactly close themselves up or anything. Still hurt when she experimentally shifted her shoulder, however, and Anise gave a wince.

"No, usually I'm too cute to get into this much trouble. Guess Gloomietta really has it out for me, huh?"

[uhohdad]

I know how specific this might sound so don't please don't hesitate to let this ask brew for a bit!: I'm wondering how loser!König would fair with a southern transmasc reader? Someone who's clearly backwoods country,but also cuntry, ya know? Ain't much to do other than swim in the rivers if your lucky,or check out nature if your not wanting to see the small towns scattered between said nature. Love love love your writings ofc,keep up the amazing work!

This is incredibly specific. I love it. Okay here we go I hope this tickles your fancy. Prob could be enjoyed by everyone.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆ ・・・・

☆ Loser!König was intrigued with you right from the start. He’s never met anyone like you before.

☆ He feels so comfortable with you. It was like he could tell you anything, and you’d just nod along. Not even so much as quirking an eyebrow at the odd things he says as you wade your ankles into the creek, hunting for crawdads to make friends with, just for the fun of it.

☆ He felt like he was swept off his feet, it’s amazing how such a simple lifestyle can feel so… magical, so thrilling. A whirlwind adventure that’s makes him feel alive, but simultaneously gives him a cozy, relaxing warmth foreign to him.

☆ (He’s not really sure if it’s the lifestyle, or if it’s just you.)

☆ You were so down to earth, so genuine, and you’d accepted König for who he was. His infatuation with you started here, and snowballed rapidly, and before he knew it he was in too deep.

☆ Funny, too. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s laughed this hard, this much. It’s always a good time with you.

☆ The stargazing is his favorite part. Konig’s fingers threaded together and resting on his waist. Lying in the bed of your shoddy old pickup truck, the stars clear and beautiful in the middle of no where.

☆ It’s still hard to keep his focus on the stars when you’re right next to him, your arms folded to use your hands as a pillow, shoe absentmindedly swirling as you soak in the night sky. He can’t help the way his eyes are lingering. How his head keeps tilting to admire you, taking you in as you lay.

☆ It’s the beer, he thinks. He’s had too much. Flushing his cheeks and giving him that warm feeling in his chest.

☆ No, maybe it’s the atmosphere. It’s so romantic out here, just you and him and the night sky.

☆ No, it’s definitely you.

☆ He wants to leave his old life behind, he wants to stay out here with you forever. He wants to chase this feeling, he wants to chase you.

☆ The air between you is electric. He can’t stop thinking about how he wants to touch you. How badly he wants to hold your hand, how he has the overwhelming urge to kiss you. As he stares at you, he can’t help but wonder if you feel it too.

☆ He’s thinking about you sliding on top of him, straddling him. Grinding down on him, teasing him, his hands on your hips as you revel in his needy whines and moans. He wants you to take him - right here, right now

☆ The thought alone is enough to bring his cock to attention.

☆ “See something you like, handsome?”

☆ A cheeky grin spreads thick as you side-eye him, watching him snap his head back to the night sky, as if that was going to save him, as if you haven’t been feeling the burn of his stare this entire time.

☆ You got him, successfully flustered him, he’s sure he’s ruined it.

☆ “Well, don’t play shy now.”

☆ He doesn’t even know what to say, tongue-tied and trying to put out the heat just under his skin, but he’s only fanning the flame.

☆ He’ll carefully meet your gaze, his mouth dry and his lips twisted in worry.

☆ “S’okay.”

☆ He gives a shaky nod, hoping it’s dark enough out here that you can’t see the glow on his cheeks.

☆ A hand slips from behind your head, elbow propped up on the ribbed tailbed, wrist limp as you offer your hand.

☆ Konig swallows, eyes wide and flitting between your hand and your eyes, twinkling as they reflect the stars.

☆ “Don’t make it weird, dude. Just hold my stupid hand.”

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆ ・・・・

ੈ✩

[cyanide-latte]

💬

Ilias knows he shouldn't touch the collapsed man, he should stand back and let the adults handle things. He's nine years old and perfectly obedient, and normally he would be focused on helping his oldest brother hold their youngest brother back. But something in him won't let him behave; there is an overwhelming compulsion that has seized him, causing him to break away from his brothers and move cautiously towards the man.

The adults around him are, of course, trying to tell him to stop and step back, with varying degrees of force and worry that all fade into background noise before ceasing entirely with a terrified hush. Ilias doesn't register this, and thus doesn't see the way his shadow splits into three, nor the way his eyes are beginning to glow with a cold, harsh light. His awareness has narrowed to nothing but the man on the floor, a sweating, pale S.T.Y.X. employee he doesn't even know by name.

“Ilias, don't!” his youngest brother calls.

Something inside Ilias is shaking, rattling the bars of a cage it's newly found itself in and wants out of. It's breaking free, and while he doesn't know what he is doing, he senses its inevitability and how much more than him it is. He stops trying to fight it quickly, realizing that though he is on some level frightened, he needs more than anything to find out what is about to happen.

One of his hands drifts over the man’s chest, the other over his sweating forehead. The last things Ilias is aware of are the thinness of his hands, the sudden length of his nails, and that his voice is now tripled as he speaks words both alien and yet known to some deeper, more secret part of him.

“Ilias, you—!!”

The world shatters around him in a kaleidoscope of color, dropping him into a void, and he is whipped by gusts of wind. The wind brings something with it, something pale and shining across what he now recognizes as a liminal space.

It is a thread.

No, that's not correct. It isn't just a thread.

It approaches initially with great rapidity, hesitating for only a moment, before snapping at him like some great snake and twisting itself around him before he can do much more than cry out. And though the thread doesn't cut him, he immediately feels what it carries begin to slice into him.

He glimpses the past and sees a boy who resembles the employee who collapsed. There is a barrage of vicious glares, stray hateful thoughts aimed at other children who mock his intellect and interests and his early desire for a career. Cold disdain weaves throughout, a sense he is better and smarter than his peers, that one day they'll be sorry. Then in adolescence, still marked by that disdain and condescension, there is a loneliness fiercely misdirected at peers and at girls who laugh at his interest in them, and a dark undercurrent of wishing everything would just stop, that sleep would subsume him forever. Ilias barely processes the frightening enormity of this before he sees the same teenager, a little older, devastated. The Jupiter family didn't think his ideas good enough, didn't even look at him when searching for new talent. Bound up in this is an icy, gut-churning sensation at realizing that the internship he was offered has a S.T.Y.X. seal; he is so unremarkable, so unimpressive, so not as special as he hoped that not only did the Jupiter family never acknowledge him, but their cousins, the Shroud family, are taking pity on him. Pity from a bunch of ghouls who live in isolation. He swallows his pride and dignity because a job is a job, but just when he thought his life couldn't get any worse, the Great Seven were practically laughing in his face.

Ilias is yanked to the present, but not back to himself. The man is sick. He is resigned to his job at S.T.Y.X. but to say he still loathes his circumstances is incorrect. He is listened to, he is respected. His work challenges him in ways that he enjoys and his coworkers are surprisingly collaborative. True, the Shrouds still frighten him on some level, but really, they're not so bad. Okay, so he's a little jealous that even their three sons seem to be tiny child geniuses far beyond himself, but it doesn't sting the way it would have when he was younger. And he's freer here, somehow. Despite himself, he likes his new life in the Island of Woe. But he feels like he's dying. He's sure he is. Everything is dark.

Something coaxes Ilias then, and he spins towards it, facing opposite the direction he did when he glimpsed the past. He knows something lies ahead, something final, and with it, the end of the thread of this man’s life.

He reaches for it, grasping with thin hands ending in claw-like nails and feels, both in this space and back where things remain real, the final word leave his mouth, the name of the spell he realizes he's cast.

“HARBINGER.”

The man’s future snaps into view, frames glimpsed here and there on the way to that finality he knows is waiting. Initially the negative following this moment stands out most starkly, and it's several frames before the positives become more prominent and vibrant, but these don't linger and dig beneath the skin the same way. They brush over Ilias with a warmth and tenderness, and don't sear him.

And then it all slows. The man is old now. He watches an adolescent Shroud boy with long, long hair storm away in frustration after an argument with a man wearing the uniform and helmet of the S.T.Y.X. director. It takes his physical expression of exasperation for Ilias to recognize this is his younger brother, grown up.

“Give him some time, sir,” the old man says, patience and kindness in his voice that were never there in the past, and are barely there in his present. “You can't push too hard with teenagers.”

This day moves well but slow, very slow. He finishes out his shift and returns home, greeted with an aged affection by his husband. The two eat, unaware this is their last meal together, and sometime after they retire for the night, peacefully asleep beside each other, the man exhales his last breath in a sigh. And the thread vanishes with a snipping sound.

Everything real rushes back at once, color and sound colliding like the shattered glass is crashing itself back together in an attempt to repair the world. The spell releases Ilias only seconds after he lets go, unaware he was holding it to begin with. Unconsciously, he clutches at his head, which feels both too light and too heavy, and curls up on his side on the floor, trying to push away the memories that aren't his from the ones that are.

They leave quickly, like they're fleeing back to their owner, but the one future-memory, the image of the last day, lingers.

At the very least, the man won't actually die for some time to come.

But in this moment that is a cold comfort, and it cannot conceal the magic that now is awake, living beneath the boy’s skin.

With a whimper, Ilias shuts his eyes.

—————

Taglist: @tixdixl @blithesharem @inmateofthemind @ramshacklerumble @simons-twsted-children

So there we have it, both an Ilias memory and a glimpse of the first time he discovers his Unique Magic. I've talked about it before somewhat to a few mutuals and friends (I can't recall who all I've told,) but Harbinger allows him to see a person's ultimate fate. Unfortunately, Ilias cannot control what other information about the person he receives in the process (and when he's young, he can't stem the flow of that information at all.) It often overwhelms him, and by the time he's a young adult in his early 20s, he's inclined to believe the worst of almost everyone and everything, because that's usually what his UM shows him when he tries to see someone's fate.

Also worth noting here that I did keep the details vague intentionally for the most part regarding this S.T.Y.X. employee's life and experiences. As this is meant to be a memory of Ilias's, the details of the man's life, thoughts, feelings have all faded somewhat with time from Ilias's perspective, as this is written to be his recollection. It would be quite different when experiencing them in real time.

@elenauaurs @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @distant-velleity @rainesol (message me if you want to be added to the taglist for my TWST OC stuff!)

[pettypuppy-jonghyun]

Skz When Their Best Friend Is Pregnant | Skz Reactions

Summary: skz when female!reader bestie gets pregnant

Warnings: for legal purposes, this is a joke

Notes: I've literally posted this four times now and it won't work.

Chan

Papa Chan. Grandfather at such a young age. He starts talking about you like you were a child he raised, how proud he is to see you "all grown up" and having kids of your own. Will tell everyone he's going to be a proud papa. This will prompt many gifts from him, even matching outfits and items for your child, so that Papa Chan and your baby can bond easier.

Lee know

Please don't invite him to the baby shower. Will judge every gift with HIGH scrutiny because no one could ever top his gift. Eyes of a hawk. If there's absolutely anything sticking out- a thread, a chip, a dent-Minho would make that person return the gift to get a new one. Nothing is going to ever harm your baby, don't worry. But he's evil and is planning to train your child to be a miniature him, so be warned. Your s/o and you won't have any control over what happens with your child once Lino 'tames' it.

Changbin

"You mean our child." Supportive best friend you dont want. Every step is one made together. The father of the child doesn't matter in his eyes, because the best friend is the most important. He would want to be called Uncle Changbin, Muscle Uncle, or God of Muscle. If you go shopping for nursery items or baby supplies, you have to take your other half: him. Changbin doesn't care if it's not actually his child, he wants to be a part of its life 100%. Until it can talk and tell him otherwise.

Hyunjin

Ew. You disgust him. How dare you tell the whole world that you did the 'deed'. Hyunjin didn't need to know you like that. Jokes aside he would consider himself the honorary uncle because he patched you up with your s/o to begin with. If he isn't called Uncle Jinnie, then you lose your title as a best friend. Will like your child more than you. He's not the type to be overly affectionate when you are pregnant, and still calls bluff for the beginning, but he's still caring when you need him to be.

Jisung

Finds it odd that you proudly announce your pregnancy to people. Why does everyone need to know your behind-the-doors-business? Is a little confused about a gender reveal party, when you could just tell everyone what it is like you did with the intial pregnancy reveal. Is the one to ask "who's is it?" despite you having an s/o you are exclusive with. You're a hoe in his eyes now, just accept it.

Felix

Happiest bean. His closest female friend is having a baby? Can he be the godfather? Will happily spend all his money on baby items. Is the first one to offer to throw a baby shower for you. If someone else takes the role, he's the assistant. Documents every step of the way in his Godfather picture album, because apparently that's what all of them do. Buys the child mini computers to prep them for the future.

Seungmin

Omg why? People are still having kids? He spent a good portion of your friendship telling you to "not get knocked up" because then his drinking buddy would be gone forever, even when you can drink again. Also one to like your child more than you. He will teach your child that it's parents are 'old' and thus uncool, making him the fun uncle as well. While you're pregnant, though, he monitors everything you eat/drink and scolds you for even a tiny bit of cheating.

Jeongin

He's the baby in this friend group, why are you trying to upstage him? Feels competitive against the attention your child may receive and starts planning on how to sabotage his success in taking his place. Will smile in your face and once you look away, a scowl replaces it. How dare you, as his best friend, take all the attention? Aside from that he's vibes with the child's presence. Is happier when you're in pain. Pregnancy cramps? Celebrate! Baby kicks in the rib? Round of drinks for everyone!

[bomberqueen17]

car organizer

So I wanted to make myself the kind of organizer that hangs over the back of your car seat to hold your stuff, to keep the things that ought to stay in my car in, because with my old car, I hauled so much cargo and loaded and unloaded the thing so often and wound up with so much random junk in there that I lost my tire inflator, foldable shovel, and most of the rest of it. I thought, if I just attach those to the back of one of the front seats then it doesn't matter what I do with the car, if I'm hauling baby chicks or small humans, passengers or cargo or what, I don't have to worry.

I shopped around but I didn't see anything like what I wanted, so I went down in the basement and poked around.

Thus follows not exactly a tutorial, but a description of my thought process. This took forever but if I had to do it again I could do it faster, I think.

I had a weird but perfectly-sized rectangle of heavy-duty polyester canvas (twice as long as I needed, but exactly as wide, so I could use it double thickness), some suit interfacing, and then several yards of an all-plastic but beautiful brocade I bought from Jo-Ann's back when I didn't know how to shop for fabric.

So I bought myself a new tire inflator and folding shovel, and then measured the jump-start powerbank I already own, and made pockets exactly sized for those three things. I also guesstimated a pocket for my motley collection of ratchet straps. And then I laid those out on the bit of canvas, and figured I had room for a wide short pocket across the top-- gathered the bottom, and put a channel at the top and pulled elastic through, then sewed two seams down it to hold it into three separate pockets.

I did french seams on the first square pocket then realized that made it too small so I had to piece a little extension around the back of it. Then I realized that all-plastic brocade ravels horribly... unless you run a lighter along all the cut edges. Bickety-bam instant selvege. So I melted the edges of all the rest of my fabric, and no more French seams means no more excessive seam allowances.

(I didn't exactly follow this method but I did find a good tutorial here for how to make a cargo pocket. It might have worked better than what i did, LOL. I only made one pocket pleated, and one gathered, the others I tried mostly to make to size.)

[image description: a black panel of canvas lies on a table, with three pockets made of brown/black/gold polyester brocade lying atop it, chalked around like crime scene bodies.]

Laid them out, traced with chalk, futzed with the placement. Realized I didn't have to center that top one, and if I off-set it, I could fit the ratchet strap pocket next to it.

Attached the pockets to the canvas, then spray-adhesived the interfacing to the back, then folded the canvas in half, sewed it right sides together leaving one short side open, turned it right-side out, gingerly ironed it (everything is plastic). I had some of those huge thick plastic strips they seal around big boxes sometimes in the garbage in the basement so I pulled those out, carefully ironed them flat under a press cloth, and then cut lengths of them-- it was heavy-duty stuff, I think a dehumidifier had come in the package, solid plastic an inch wide-- and used those as horizontal boning at the bottom, middle, and top, securing in place with a line of stitching above and below wherever there weren't pockets. The top, I closed up by just folding the front over the back; it was the selvedge edge, so I left that raw, and zig-zagged it shut with the piece of "boning" inside, then pushed the boning up against the seam with my fingers and sewed the other side of the channel with a straight stitch.

I could not for the life of me figure out how to measure the straps. so i went out and sat in my car with a lighter, scissors, needle, thread, a pair of old shoelaces, a length of 2" wide elastic torn out of an unsuccessful earlier make (i have a roll of the stuff... at the farm, not here), and a length of heavy-duty twill tape I don't know where I got.

I held the organizer up to the seat, safety-pinned the twill tape to the top, threaded it around the headrest, safety-pinned it to the other side. Decided it needed more support, as the upper corners wanted to flop. Used a drawstring threader to pull the shoelace through the flap at the bottom of the seat, where all the cabling for the heated seat is stored-- there's upholstery covering it, open at both sides, so I threaded the shoelace through that, just to pull the whole shebang in taut against the seat instead of letting it swing freely into the knees of whoever might sit back there. Sewed it down on one side, safety-pinned it to the other. Cut the shoelace off, then sewed the remnant to one upper extreme corner, wrapped it past the headset, safety-pinned it to the other side. Finally took the 2" wide elastic, sewed it firmly down on one side, passed it around the seat, measured it, then passed it behind the seat to sew it down un-stretched to the other side, then put it on properly. So the non-stretch fasteners are only sewed on one side, and can be unpinned on the other if I need to take the thing off.

Then I loaded it up with stuff.

[Image description: the rear of a car driver's seat, taken from the rear seat behind it, with an organizer hanging from the headrest, brocade pockets stuffed full of objects. There's a green object hanging from a keychain at the top left-- it is a folding knife patterned to look like a leaf.]

Now the things that ought to just always be in my car can (mostly) just always be there. I should check that the tire inflator works, and I should periodically charge up the jump pack, but I already checked if the foldable shovel works (it does), and I carefully bundled up the ratchet straps into bags I made out of the cuffs of old crew socks, which sewn shut where I cut the threadbare foot off make perfectly-sized padded stretchy storage bags for light duty ratchet straps.

Top left to bottom right, it's got:

Ratty old work gloves, a clipped-on keychain with a decorative rosary and a functional folding knife, a sock-cuff bag containing a multitool screw driver, a little baggie of tampons, and some Kleenex The tire inflator kit, the jump pack kit three ratchet straps, a folding shovel multitool thingy, and a bag of toiletries with spare socks, chapstick, hand cream, a travel toothbrush and dry toothpaste kit, and a couple other things-- most of it is shit that was handed out the one time I flew business class on Icelandair.

Then, to the right, around my center console, I took a vintage like circa 2004 Old Navy nylon drawstring backpack, threaded those heavy-duty twist tie things they use to close disposable coffee bags through the drawstring bit of the mouth to keep it open, sewed some of the twill tape to the top, and added a magnetic catch to hold a plastic bag in place. The magnetic catch didn't do enough so I have some half-broken old hair clips holding the plastic bag in better position: that's now my car's trash bag, and the backpack's two tiny zippered pockets hold spare plastic bags.

Now the last thing I want to do is to get some hooks to hang from the passenger headrest, and get loops attached to my snow brush and squeegee, and hang those from the hooks, because otherwise they are always scattered around the floor of my car in the way of whatever I want to do.

Anyway. Ready for the inaugural road trip Sunday, when I drive back to the farm.

[obamousse]

I went through five stages of grief when I knew Osamu was pursuing a career in cooking.

It was so devastating not only because Osamu won't become his volleyball buddy, the relationship rifts and Atsumu cannot do anything about it.

All our lives we never kept our childhood friends. When we got out of elementary school, we lost contacts with one another and occupies ourselves in middle school. And then we replaced our middle school friends with high school friends, and in some short years lost them too. We could keep each other's numbers by then, but what are the chances of everyone meeting up for class reunion or texting with one another? People are occupied; meet-ups and texts happen even rarer with fewer friends, so why waste time upholding these meet-ups and texting which are the only threads holding these friendships?

That would happen for them. Osamu would be so caught up in his restaurant work, spouses and kids he would forget about anything Atsumu texted, or calls from him. Atsumu has important things to say, his needs to vent, and would brush it off when Osamu replied to him 5 hours later. Attending Atsumu's matches doesn't mean anything, what if it is only one match out of all Atsumu had played? How many matches could he attend? That is the only reason Furudate gave to convince us that they were still close friends. The distance created is inevitable and nothing could bring it back, and Atsumu had to accept it as part of the reality. That he had to live alone and sometimes see the ghost of his old friend, that they did not live together anymore, that Osamu prioritizes other things over his brother in his daily life, that in practice, they became acquaintances.

That rift kills me, and it would kill Atsumu too. The best part about having a sibling, no, a twin, is that you go to the same school, live in the same home, and stick to each other making memories and happiness. When you grow up, you drift apart and you could only call them, if luck is with you, once a month, like with many other used-to-be best friends, your normal friends, your acquaintances. The people you'd see the most are going to be your spouses, kids, and then colleagues, and finally, siblings and other friends. They went backstage. Your twin was not as important to your daily life when you grow up. But siblings would always bound together whenever their parents are sick or one of them is sick. But if all our relationships in the present could be summed up by perfunctory texts and once-in-a-month meet-ups, then who are we?

I don't understand how people accepts this, adjusts to this, how Osamu worries about Atsumu's reaction more than this. Maybe it hurts deep within him but he doesn't share with the audience, may be the reason why Atsumu wanted Osamu to give up his dream was for the sake of their friendship. Fuck growth or whatever is said in the manga for Atsumu to accept Osamu leaving him. If we are going to drift apart, if our friendships were never the same as before, if we are going to be fleeting acquaintances of each other, the growth is never worth it.

Growing up, you may have to live alone in an apartment building, and friendships and relationships became more convoluted: you can only bond with them for 2 hours within an entire month, you understand your best friends and siblings prioritizes other things over your relationship, people have their own agendas, you have to be careful with every word you say, nothing lasts forever, you are meant to drift apart. If that's what to inevitably come with adult life, then growing up is so fucking lonely.

So anyways, here are some headcanons for me to cope:

Osamu and Atsumu became neighbors, and Atsumu would visit Osamu frequently.

That's it. IDK how people can live far from each other, only do text and calls and still keep their friendship alive. There are some fanfics about this that says "Not because we chose to be on different career paths mean we would separate." Because how does that work? Is the not-separating only limited to a friendship where we would meet for 2 hours, talk about the 10% surface of our lives and be done for? Is that how a friendship is supposed to be and we have to accept it, that the friendship had changed? IDK how some of you deal with this. Explain to me pls????

[brokenlonelyandafraid]

Wanted Plots/Threads:

911:

-My oc Sophia being Eddie's best friend since childhood finally moving to LA. Maybe even helping him with his sexuality and crush on Buck? Or Buck getting jealous that they're spending more time together and she has to basically spell it out for him.

-Sophia being a long lost Buckley sibling. This post explains it!

OneChicago:

Putting Sophia with literally anyone from OneChicago but huge bonus for:

-big brother/little sister bond with Adam Ruzek.

-Anything with romantic intentions (not necessarily shipping) with Dante Torres, Kevin Atwater, Hailey Upton, Stella Kidd, or Kelly Severide. And I know they aren't OneChicago but also with Joe Velasco or Grace Muncy from SVU.

~~~~~~

Like this or shoot me a message if you want to do something involving any of this! I'd prefer discord (that I haven't used in forever lol) but we can keep to tumblr if desired!

Or send in a meme to break the ice! Just give a hint as to what fandom it is lol. And don't worry about the age of the meme or theme- I'm slowly coming back so everything is kind of old.

[cimmeriana]

ɴ ᴀ ᴍ ᴇ : Grim ᴘ ʀ ᴏ ɴ ᴏ ᴜ ɴ s : She/Her/Hers ᴛ ɪ ᴍ ᴇ  ᴢ ᴏ ɴ ᴇ : PST

I. I’m only comfortable writing with people 18+, preferably 21+ because I'm in my thirties and I write things with various adult themes. I absolutely will not ship with someone under 21. The rest of my shipping rules will be mentioned later, but this is a big one for me. I'm not going to go through everyone who interacts with me to check exactly how old they are because I have faith in all of you to just be honest people. But I will block you if I find out you're a minor or just generally were dishonest about your age.

II. My interpretation of Dark Urge pre-amnesia is based on the pretty disturbing things we learn and are given implications of. I don’t agree with or practice those dark themes, as I find them absolutely vile and disgusting. For that reason, certain themes won't be explored in any threads or plots. Specifically, I will not be exploring the incestuous themes hinted in the game. Furthermore, my headcanons are just my ideals based on how I interpret the Dark Urge origin, so in no way to I expect all Durge players to have the same canon for their playthrough. I will appropriately tag any posts that need CW/TW and NSFW.

III. I’m private and selective. Trust me when I say I’d love to write with dozens of people, but I need to be realistic with my time and energy and muse.

IV. That said, I'm super slow at replying. Like forever slow. Sometimes I get little bursts of energy, but I suffer from anxiety and wanting to have my reply be up to a certain standard. I also want to be completely transparent in the fact that I prioritize replies to my friends first and foremost. That's not me trying to offend you or anything, it's just I love my friends very dearly and we already have an established rapport.

V. I'm going to be particularly selective in who I ship with, and I'm mostly only going to ship with people I consider my friends because of the rapport we have ooc. However, that doesn't mean I'm not open to shipping with new people. It just means my approach to it will require we both communicate more extensively about the details and what we both expect. I'm typically more on the side of "if it happens, it happens" and not making that the main focus of why our characters interact.

VI. This blog is multiverse. I also have multiple subverses within those verses. Don't worry, I use tags to organize what's what to be less confusing. You can find my list of verses here.

VII. I also have an Astarion blog (@exsanguidus). Please don't come into this inbox asking me things about that muse. Sometimes I just want little breaks from my Astarion or sometimes I just feel more in the mood to not write a main canon character. Not to mention I'm such a fangirl of my fellow Astarion writers that I want the chance to actually write with them. I can't exactly do that on my Astarion blog.

[siriannatan]

Jinn & Other Troubles part 2

AO3 link for anyone who prefers to read there.

Figuring out if I wanted to go the original route of following fWhip's 'hunt' or Pix and Jimmy's shopping day took me forever…

The next chapter might be a Scott and Sausage intermission. But who knows? I don't.

Jimmy woke up a little bit confused as to where he was. He was on a very big and comfy bed. Definitely not his new, pretty bare-bones apartment. As he sat up, yawning and blinking the reminder of sleep off his eyes caught a slightly familiar, embroidered with golden thread dark blue overcoat. Pixl. The Copper King. He found him and didn't die. And he was nowhere to be seen. But there were clothes and a note saying that they are for him. Temporarily. So he got dressed and went to the other room, hoping to find Pix there.

There was no Pix in the other room but there was his right-hand man. The tiefling bartender of the Vigil, fWhip. Clearly waiting for Jimmy with breakfast.

"Morning. Boss is getting some stuff out of the way, said he'll be taking you shopping once he's done," fWhip explained, pulling out a notebook. "I need your old address to take care of that and bring your stuff here and deal with other stuff to do with it," he said as Jimmy numbly sat down by the table full of breakfast foods. He was a bit shocked that fWhip was friendly with him. It could be just Pix being a scary jinn. "Boss ate already. Wanted me to say he's sorry he didn't wait for ya'."

Jimmy gave his address to the tiefling a bit hesitantly. "What's wrong?" he asked at fWhip's slightly shocked expression. Quickly fixed and hidden away but not quickly enough.

"Nothing. You just don't look like you're from Lower Stratos is all," fWhip shrugged noting it down. "Anything you really want from your old place?"

"There's nothing I'm super attached to there," Jimmy shrugged. He really didn't want Pix to know how little there was in his apartment...

"Well, I'm going to have to go there anyway so try to think," fWhip shrugged. "All along a few other errands for Pix so don't worry about wasting my time," he added with a sharp grin.

"Okay... just don't tell Pix much about it... okay?" he tried asking. "I don't like it much and I don't think he would and... he's already doing a lot and you're involved now and... I don't want to waste anyone's time..."

"You're not," fWhip assured with a grin. "Certainly not mine, you're doing an important thing here, keeping Pixl happy. He was closer than ever to letting me stick a few too many knives in Joey," he explained. "You can ignore him if you ever see him. He's only alive because Pix needs him, once he isn't needed anymore he better stay away," he grinned and Jimmy only nodded, a bit stiffly.

"Oh... I see..." that was... new. "So... what do I do if he's in bad mood?" he asked. fWhip was not as bad as he thought. So keeping Pix happy was something he'd have to keep in mind. He was starting to like fWhip. Even if he looked a bit scary he wasn't as scary as Pix. 

"Well, he did say to give you a tour," fWhip grinned showing off his tiny fangs. "Finish eating first."

Once Jimmy was done eating, and his outfit fixed and deemed 'good enough' by fWhip they proceeded with the official tour.

"My rooms are up those stairs," fWhip said pointing to the stairs leading the opposite way the ones up to Pix's room and the office. 

"If Pixl is angry, either kiss him or, bring him his favourite whiskey, we don't sell it to normal customers and there's always a bottle here," he pointed to an unlabeled bottle, as he showed Jimmy around the bar. Jimmy quickly recognised as the one Pix dragged about last evening.    "What if any customer asks for it?" Jimmy asked. fWhip wasn't so bad if he wasn't being annoyed.

"Then I ask if they wish for an audience with the Copper King," fWhip grinned. "If they insist I take them to the back and torture them. That's the other thing I do, make anyone who annoys Pix too much suffer a lot before they die," he explained. "You're fine, by the way. I like you, you keep Pix off my back."

"Thanks..." Jimmy nodded. He never wanted to be in fWhip's basement. Never ever. Even if, to his own surprise, he wasn't too bothered by the thought of fWhip torturing someone. Seeing that Pix is a jinn was probably even worse. And he was Pix's favourite, he probably didn't have to worry about fWhip that badly. "What if there is none here?" 

"Good thinking," fWhip nodded. "Follow me, I have a secret room for the stuff just for him," fWhip grinned and led Jimmy to an only slightly dusty storage room.

They stopped in a room full of barrels and bottles and crates and boxes. It wasn't dusty or anything like that. The whole place was pretty clean and Jimmy suspected the tiefling kept it that way with magic... Just a hunch.

"Here," fWhip tapped on a seemingly random brick and a secret door opened. "I keep Pix's favourite so he doesn't drink it all at once," he grinned and Jimmy could not help but smile a bit. "Don't tell him about it but if your good looks ever fail to calm him come here and bring him a bottle, should calm him right down. Ya don't need magic to open it," he explained closing it up. "Stay close now," he warned and opened a door Jimmy at first missed. It might have not even been there not even a minute ago. Not that Jimmy paid much attention to things fWhip wasn't pointing out.

It led into a basement where most of the goons spend time waiting for orders or shifts as fWhip explained. Just hearing about goons had Jimmy sticking closer to fWhip. Hoping he was going to be fine. They passed another set of doors about halfway down, it went rather deep, but fWhip did not comment about it so Jimmy guessed it was probably the special basement...

"Don't take anything I say to heart, those guys are not paid to be smart," fWhip warned in a lowered voice before pushing a door at the bottom of the stairs open. "Listen up boys, meet Jimmy boss' new boy toy..."

Jimmy was a bit shocked but quickly returned to fWhip's earlier warning. It was to keep him safe and Pix from getting angry.

"You guys look at him wrong? I poke your eyes out. Talk to him out of wrong? I cut your tongue out. Touch him wrong? I chop your hands off. Is that clear?" fWhip listed of warnings reminding Jimmy what kind of organisation he was kind of a part of.

"Crystal, mister fWhip, sir," the goons nodded glancing at Jimmy, probably to remember, or try to, his face to not annoy their boss. And fWhip.

"Good. Bo, Be, I have errands that need some muscles so wait outside. De, the boss will be going shopping with Jimmy so you'll silently follow them and carry all the bags, wait outside for now," fWhip ordered and three goons quickly went up the stairs.

fWhip waited for a second, glaring at other goons before pointing Jimmy to go up the stairs back to the bar so they could wait for Pixl.

"Once again, sorry I called you that, some of those guys are not the smartest, and I don't want them messing with you," fWhip apologised once Jimmy was seated by the bar with a glass of water. "Angry Pix is a bad thing, for the city at large, I mean."

"It's fine, I understand," Jimmy assured him with a tiny smile. "I don't think you'll need two guys... there's not much in my apartment, as I said, I was kind of between things and..."

"Don't worry, as I said, I have other errands to run, they're mostly for that," fWhip chuckled. "And there's no need to be nervous. You're keeping Pixl happy, he nearly let me stab Joey. I really don't like him we kind of need him alive," he added while shuffling some bottles behind the bar.

"It's all new is all... I never thought I'd end up... I don't even know what to call it. Cuddle pillow? That's how last night felt at least," Jimmy sighed. He was starting to like fWhip. He was snippy, cared that he was safe, no matter the reasons, and was not afraid to laugh a bit at Pix's expense.

"I didn't plan to be a criminal either, so I get it," fWhip nodded leaning against the back counter. "He's really taking a lot of his time..." he grumbled and sighed.

"You didn't?" Jimmy asked not expecting an actual answer. He wasn't that close with fWhip. Not yet? "It's okay if you don't want to talk..." 

"Never met a tiefling before?" fWhip asked with a, dare Jimmy say, fond chuckle. "No need to be nervous, I don't bite. Not provoked that is," fWhip chuckled showing his sharp teeth.

"No... Never. I'm sorry if I'm ever rude... The orphanage never cared much about manners..." Jimmy blabbered before he could stop himself. Not that the orphanage stuff was a secret. He just never before felt too comfortable talking about it at all. 

"I'm going to guess you're not as old as Scott, he's also an elf, Pix sometimes hires him if our resources can't get us something or to someone. Or if he just feels like it," fWhip chuckled. "I have a feeling you're a bit like him, don't like 'proper' elves much?"

"Yeah... they're all jerks from what I gather..." Jimmy nodded relaxing a bit. Okay, okay. fWhip was a cool dude. "And I'm only like fifty... At least that's what I think it is based on what the orphanage said and..."

"Wow, we found second Scott before he got bitter," fWhip chuckled. "I sometimes wish my parents dropped me at an orphanage after I was born like this," he sighed. "Yeah, there were no tieflings in my family before me so it was something else that got me like this. My father thought I was a sign..."

"A sign?"

"Yeah, he had this theory our family came from the fallen nobility of old and that I was a gift from the gods," they both laughed at the ridiculousness of it. "Meant to bring the family to its old glory. Got even worse when my magic manifested, and nearly burned our neighbour's barn when their son was making fun of my growing horns," he stopped and focused on washing some glasses. He needed to wait for Pix to be done berating a certain elven pirate.

"What then?"

"I was sent to the big city the very next morning to apply for the big magic school," fWhip shrugged pointing vaguely in the direction of the Evermoore Academy. "But it turns out you need connections and money to study magic. With the door shut in my face, I could either go back home and disappoint everyone or stay in the city. I stayed, picked odd jobs here and there, practised on my own, and tried to save up for school. Send letters home saying it was all great, that I got in."

Jimmy stayed silent. Waiting if fWhip would continue talking or not.

"About a year later I picked a job for a guy called Copper King, he was already getting notorious in the underworld, don't judge, I was somewhat desperate and the criminals paid well for the services of a mage. Worked for him a few more times before actually meeting him, and he showed me his true nature and offered more stable work. I accepted, obviously. And the rest is history," fWhip grinned setting the last glass to dry.

"Getting sentimental there fWhip?" Pixl chuckled coming down from his office. The pirate following him with a mysterious but tense expression. 

Jimmy completely ignored the elf in favour of cuddling up to Pix. He didn't seem to be in bad mood but he kind of missed the jinn. Even if he returned to looking human.

"The kid asked about me so I told him the dramatic history of my life," the tiefling grinned pulling out a heavy set of keys. "Out with you", he glared at the pirate. 

fWhip watched from behind the bar as Pix talked to Jimmy. "I have one of the boys waiting to carry the shopping for you," he said before Pixl could even ask about it. "Go on, I still need to close up properly," he added.

"If you say so," Pixl chuckled and left with Jimmy in tow as fWhip waved after them.

"Have fun," he joked pulling out the keys to close the place down.    The tiefling sighed once the boss was out. Jimmy was doing great at keeping his mood up. And even brought entertainment for him. In a better mood than he usually would be with a certain elven pirate in town, fWhip left the tavern locked it and, after eyeing both Bo and Be, their parents weren't the most creative when naming them, grinned even wider.

"Listen up boys," he said with hands on his hips. "We have an important task of finding the people who hurt boss' new favourite elf starting with his old house so no breaking anything."

"But 'is ears ain't pointy," Bo noticed like an oaf he was.

"Say something like this once more and there will be nothing left of you for the city guard to fish out of the bay," fWhip warned, his dark eyes narrowing. "Got it?"

"Yes sir," the two nodded and followed him to Jimmy's old apartment.

Stopping to double-check if he got the place right, fWhip understood why Jimmy didn't want Pix to know about this place. As he watched it and recalled the elf who walked in last night, it made no sense. It was even worse than he expected after Jimmy's story. His clothes, not fancy in any way, were too nice for this ramshackle place... Was it the side effect of the debt he was roped into? Something else? fWhip was very curious, and his hands were itching to get his hands on whoever was responsible... The elf was just so likeable. And likely as naive.

"Don't break anything," he reminded Bo and Be and slowly entered, glaring at any passersby brave enough to look at him. If that didn't work then the copper chain around his wrist did. A sure sign of his connection with the Copper King.

Inside was empty. Bland. No personality. "Wait outside," he ordered the two and went in to search the apartment.

There was very little there. No personal things. The word 'orphanage' was rattling around his head. Was he afraid of getting attached to stuff? All he found was some clothes, and the contract with a loan office, Pix would likely want to see that, signed by Jimmy and some Eric. So that's who he had to find, other than the two collectors.  And several returned never opened letters to an Eric in the upper town. Near the temple district. Fancy, but not completely out of reach.

After packing the few things he found, just so Pix wouldn't bet on his case for not bringing anything, he left already planning a story that would get him into the loan office without too much trouble. Eh, he'd just drop the Copper King's name and threaten his way to the info he needed. 

"I'm sorry?" a sudden voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Do you know the young man who lives here?"

fWhip turned around to see an elderly lady, quickly hiding his right hand with the bracelet. "Kind of, he's close with a friend and they asked me to grab his stuff since I was in the area anyway," he easily lied with a smiled

"Oh, I haven't seen him a lot these past few days, there were some shady types hanging about so I got worried," she chatted and fWhip listened counting to get some extra information. "He helps me with groceries, such a kind young man, met with some bad things..." she sighed. "I probably shouldn't..."

"No, no it's all fine," fWhip assured. He had a feeling she would say things Jimmy wouldn't. "My friend said, vaguely, Jimmy was in some trouble before they met. Such shame..."

"Yeah,  your friend better be nice, his last boyfriend got him in some ridiculous debt before he moved here..."

fWhip was barely listening. Boyfriend? Pix would burn the city if he knew. Not even Joel would stop him... Jimmy was smart to not say it. Very smart.

"So sad," fWhip nodded. "I should go through, stuff to do, but thank you for talking to me," he did a little bow, showing his right wrist and left, vaguely hearing the lady say 'what did I do...'.

Without a word, he led Bo and Be to the loans office. If anyone was responsible for his ears it was them. It was in the middle parts of the city, not too far from the Evermoore Academy. The students gave him a few curious looks but he ignored them, fiddling with the copper chain. They were mostly too sheltered to know what it meant, but the few who understood looked away. It did nothing to fix his mood.

At the loan office, he just let himself in. The young woman behind the front desk was about to say something but stopped when Bo and Be walked in.

"Hello, is Mr Martyn in?" fWhip asked with a courteous grin, but his eyes remained cold, looking down at everything around.

"He's busy..." she started but stopped when his stare snapped to her from a bowl of candy on a bookshelf.

"Tell him the Copper King would like to talk," he hummed, waving his right arm. He hated it when the symbol wasn't recognised. Or when someone thought they were above respecting it.

"One second," she swallowed and walked to her boss' office with as much dignity as she could.

fWhip waited. For now patiently but it was wearing thin with every second. Lucky for them the boss left his office, with the secretary following.

"I'm sorry about the wait how may I help the king?" the man asked, visibly nervous and somewhat confused."

"Here? Won't you invite me in?" fWhip hummed, his tail swiping dangerously, low to the ground.

It was obvious he didn't want fWhip in his office but he relented, excusing the couple he was talking to before. fWhip didn't even wait for them to leave before letting himself in, the goons following.

"So... um..." Martyn squirmed in his chair.

"I'm here to inquire about a certain contract the King paid off, no, let's not beat about the bush, I'm looking for the collection agents you send after it, tell me where to find them and I'll let you go, unharmed, hide them and... you don't want to know," fWhip said presenting the contract he found to the man.

The man quickly looked it over and paled. "Yes... they were independent contractors, named Biff and Jiff, they have an 'office' by the northern end of the docks, we were having trouble reaching Mr Eric, the primary of the contract..."

"That's enough, you two heard it?" fWhip stopped him and glanced at Bo and Be. They nodded. "Go and grab them then, do not damage them too much, that's my job..." he ordered. "Mr Martyn, I wish you a nice day and that we never have to talk again," he smiled and left the office.

Now. How to find Eric... The address Jimmy was sending letters to was a good start. Whistling happily he walked there. He could swear he saw Pix, Jimmy and that one goon (covered in bags) at one point. It was quite a funny sight. And he spotted a new accessory on the elf. A copper chain necklace. A sign that he was Pix's favourite, he assumed. Pix liked marking his favourites, fWhip's bracelets were good proof of that. And an excellent conductor for magic.

The place was pretty nice. Much more fitting. And quiet. Seemingly recently abandoned. After looking about to make sure no one was paying him any mind, he approached the door and gently tried the doorknob. Locked but there was a slight noise inside at that. A quiet, scared squeak and rustling of someone moving about inside. Could be this Eric person, hiding from his debts, like the absolute coward he was. Maybe he heard Jimmy was seen with Pixl? 

fWhip didn't care. He gently knocked, releasing a silent spell that opened the door for him. And locked it behind him once he silently slinked in.

"Mr Eric?" he called out in a low, cold voice.

"I said I'll have the money ready soon," came a desperate call from inside the house. fWhip slowly, silently stalked towards the voice.

"That has been taken care of, I'm here about Jimmy," fWhip said creeping closer and closer, through the sitting room and the dining room. Slowly approaching the kitchen from where the voice was coming.

"We're no longer together, leave me alone," the voice nearly cried.

fWhip was silent now, looming over a shaking shape. "That doesn't matter," he said grabbing the man by his neck and throwing him to the ground. "The Copper King does not care when you did it but you put his new favourite in danger and he does not like that," he grinned, summoning a light in his right hand. The man instantly went into panic seeing the copper chain bracelet. It would seem he knew some stuff.

"Please let me go, I didn't..."

"Oh shut up," fWhip groaned slamming him against the floorboards, knocking him out.

With that done he went to look around the place. Everything of value seemed to have been sold. almost everything. On the dusty dining table lay a brass ring with a set in sapphire. It wasn't magical or special in any other way. Only somewhat valuable. He still grabbed it, just in case. Finding nothing else he looked for the entrance to the sewers. Not his preferred route but it beat carrying an unconscious man through the streets...

[daikonwatte]

Before you read this: I'm not very good at English so please don't judge me. My mother tongue is not English.

I couldn't think of a picture ... so a story...

Hannene tanabata week 21

Day 5 forbidden love and devotion

Content: A short story in which Yashiro gives everything for her love and friends. A love that should never have existed.

Manga spoiler and your own ideas available!

A soft sigh escapes the girl while she looks at a glittering pitch black ball.  All that sorry would come to an end for her friends.  Hanako, Tsukasa ... a wonderful time would begin especially for the two brothers.  Yashiro is ready to give everything she has.  Her greatest wish, because she decided after she met the fragile little Amane in nowhere.  Protecting Hanako.  Just like he protects you.  Would this do justice to her secret love?  Can she give it back to him?  Everything seems to have been yesterday.

Lured back then to finally get love to face a rumor and then experience all these difficult but also wonderful times.  She would never have hoped for all of this.  Aoi had pretty much always been her only friend.  But through her hope back then, she met such dear friends and people.  Bad ones too, but mostly outweighed the good ones.

The girl sobbed up quietly.  If they knew this, would their friends stop them?  If so, she wouldn't let it go.  She has decided to do this.  No matter what, she will.  Even if it breaks her heart.

But she wanted to go through it all one last time.  She would love to do it all over again.  Another ending where everyone is happy.

Hanako, who always annoyed her, Kou who always said something.  But especially the monente with Hanako have done it to her.

She likes to remember that she was afraid the first time she met.  How she thought he was a tensioner who liked to spend his time on a toilet.

When did she start falling in love with him again?  Everything can be found with the stupid confession tree.  When he took off his hat.  She would have gladly seen him again without them, hugged him and said, I understand you now.  He pretty much only took off his hat to her.  Every time the girl's heart jumped when she thought of it.

When Tsukasa first appeared and Hanako looked so broken.  She regretted being shocked by this.  She should have said back then that it was okay.  That he's not a murderer.  That she would love to hug him.  Back then it was one of the few real tears she saw from him.

Hardly anyone knows this Hanako, she was glad to have met him.  One of the few people who know him inside.  Who didn't take his fake smile forever.

She didn't know why she was always led to Hanako's past, every time, every oh-so-little dream was about him.  To be in the past.  Why was it like that?  After a while she thought of the scales, was it they who sparked this red thread?  A thread that should never be stretched.

The little Amane she met back then, where said she was your type.  Would that prove to be the case today?  She does not know.  But she knows so much about Hanako by now.  But she never dared to let this be heard.

When they were in the picture of Number 4 .. it was so surreal for her, even if this world had done her to her.  A world in which Hanako was happy.  His smile, his interest in her, was that all a play back then?  She never asked that question even though she thought about it for hours.  What would she do if she said yes?  Would that break her?  But inside she knows that this was what the Amane always wanted to be when he was alive.  What Hanako always wanted to be.

Her desire to move on to live in the real world was imprinting something wrong.  Living the metaphor for many years should not be part of the desire.  She just wanted to spend her time in the real world back then.  What does a long beautiful dream bring you?  Nothing but eternal ignorance.

But even today she has the feeling that she doesn't know anything and yet she knows so much.  Does Hanako regret it?  Do you regret telling everything?  No.  He looked so relieved after his collapse.  He no longer had to fight alone with his thoughts, he then had Yashiro by his side.  And soon he wouldn't have to fight anything anymore.  The red house was a thing of its own, but ... it was over soon.

She was afraid of what came after the black ball.  It would be like this forever.  But there is no turning back.  Yashiro and Amane are similar.  Both determined to change their future.  Just that this girl had bigger plans.  16, she was just 16 years old.  But even this no longer played a role.  She will never play one again.

With one last sip in which she lets her tears disappear into her sleeve, she takes the ball in her hand.  The memories and the key with the rocket around her neck will always be her greatest treasure.

Hanako and her, a love that should never have existed.  Accidental soul mate.  Ridiculous.  They both loved each other.  Back then, in the Hanako house, she had confessed her feelings and Hanako only said that life and death have no future.  But still, in spite of this, the spirit desperately reported its love to her.  Both enjoyed the time together as a couple in the Red House.  Whatever her lover did, one thing she is sure of is that he is worried, very worried.  She feels that, they will be connected forever, even if they never meet.  She will always love him.

But she will give everything for him.  For her friends.

Trembling but still determined, she places the ball on her tongue.  If she swallows that ball, the world will turn and time will start over.  She would run to the birth of Amane and Tsukasa again.  Amane will never be about to die.  The house will never get them.  None of the twins, they will grasp their dreams and roam through life.  Just like Mitsuba and Kou, they too will master their lives.  And Yashiro will watch over all of her friends forever.

She swallows the bullet and lets her tears flow.  A black door appears in front of the girl.  That is her price what she pays.  Your life and to be trapped in the eternal loneliness of the passing of time.

She carefully opens the black door.  "I love you Amane, I will always be with you, I will protect you. From the beginning and to the end" with these words she stepped into the room and her existence disappeared.  So how do their friends suffer, right?  None of them would have to live with it anymore.  She was now the only one who still knew about her adventures.  She was forever alone now.

She gave up her life, her dreams for everyone. But as long as they are happy, she have no regrets.

--------------

I hope it was okay and understandable! ; -;

Finally a little picture:

[ac-liveblogs]

1/ Bit of anticlimax today. Taishous emotional fulfillment was nice, even if I wasn't super invested, and I'll carry Megane koshou for fun every now n then. Let taishou touch some grass vicariously. I also admittedly like how he was unintentionally fulfilling his purpose the whole time by enabling teyvats biggest fight slut. But childe had basically no real reason to be there bc Scaramouche had no involvement. We didnt have to fight scara, probs resource heavy, didnt even have to see scara,

2/ but some scheming on his part for dramas sake woulda been nice. Especially since there's still two days left. I get the feeling its just gonna be a fun training arc, but mhy could have threaded a narrative in there if they tried. He could have been corrupting the domain with evil magic idk. Or even training up himself for whatever reason. As it is tartaglia just spent six days eating old radishes and following a dead lead, then peaced out. At least he found his happy place.

Yeah, this event really didn't have much going on here. On Childe's end, you could at least contrast him with Shiki Taishou - Shiki concluding that Harunosuke's single-minded determination wasn't the greatest, Actually, and what that might mean for Childe going forward was... there, I guess. Not that anyone had anything particularly interesting to do or say to each other in this event - Childe dropped some really worrying monologues, Xinyan tried to relate Shiki's existential crises to her being kinda unpopular, no one reacted to any of it in any way beyond :) or :/

MHY really... cannot do conflict, at all, can they? Not interpersonal conflict, like say - Xinyan or Childe disagreeing on how Shiki should move forward. Or actual conflict, like that whole "oh no if we don't solve this before Sara and the Tenryo Commission get here [x] will happen" fizzling out off-screen. They really just wanna dump their lore and do the bare minimum with everything else, huh.

You know, there's something to be said about FGO's events and probably a lesson to be learned there. FGO's events introduce at least one new character and learning about them, their goals/what they’ll do to achieve them/how they’ll achieve them and the way they relate/respond to other cast members (and vice versa) is the entire point of the event. Sometimes they're your ally, sometimes they're the villain, sometimes you get one of each and get to watch them play off each other. The stories are written based around what the characters themselves do or think or want, or who would have something interesting to contribute.

Sometimes servants cause problems on Accident, sometimes they do it on purpose, sometimes they were dragged into it the same as you - but that distinction also informs what you learn about the characters. But tl;dr, the events are built around us learning about the characters. 

Genshin on the other hand takes some Lore and writes the story around us learning it, with some other playable characters there to facilitate the story being told, and then just sprinkle nuggets of information about the characters throughout the event that will hopefully pay off later while hoping you thought the lore was cool enough that you wouldn't notice fuck all actually happened. So, the events are built around us learning the lore.

and they don’t even have the decency to make the lore about the playable characters!

you know what would have been a little fun? if childe reactivated the domain because he wanted to fight forever and that caused a mess. and probably tie him in better than "well i thought this random domain that popped up might have something to do with scaramouche"

[useless12sstuff]

Short stories #3

. 3 Above and Beyond

Trudging through the woods, I try to place the majority of my weight on my makeshift cane. Squinting my eyes, I try to keep sight of my path. The moon is of barely any help. If I had known it would be dark I would've snuck out a torch. Pulling my coat tighter around myself and wishing, not for the first time, that I should've worn something warmer above my hospital gown. I buried my nose in my scarf and yet, the crisp air still burned down my lungs. If my cigarettes don't kill me first, the cold certainly will. 'You shouldn't be here', the guilty part of my brain whispered. I squashed that thought down just like the leaves under my feet. Silly Linda, I scoff. She thought she could keep me in the ward by locking the door. Well look now, I jumped out the window. Well the pangs in my leg are almost making me regret. Almost. Oh whatever. To hell with Linda and her false pretenses. She can act sweet and coy all she likes but I know she wants me dead. Not more than I do but it is a mutual sentiment that is reciprocated. She's far too young anyway. A bit naive and very gullible. Very overconfident too but she is under the assumption that she's being 'smart' and 'sharp' and that an old, miserable midget like me won't be able to see right through her. An absolute fool. I despise it here.

I hobble my way to my usual spot, a clearing somewhere in the middle of the woods. The crescent moon stares down at me, as if judging. Sitting down on a tree stump while catching my breath, I pull out a pack of cigarettes that Linda missed and a lighter from my coat pocket. A cold draft rushed and rustled the trees and I held my coat tighter, shivering badly. With numb hands I light a cigarette and hold the lighter close, the tiny flame giving me a semblance of warmth. Sigh. I wouldn't want the fluid to run out. I pocketed it, closed my eyes and enjoyed my cigarette. Deep inhale and then exhale. Inhale and exhale. Finally, some peace and quiet….

…. Which did not last longer than twenty minutes. A sharp, whip like crack sobered me up and I opened my eyes to a terrifying sight. A creature with four faces, more than a hundred wings, taller than the trees, so huge that I can't distinguish the sky from its body. The moon is nowhere in sight. His whole body consists of uncountable eyes and tongues. What on God's green earth is this!? I can't move. Why am I not moving? Its hellish eyes stared me down. The cigarette I was holding had long fallen. I am a stone, glued to one place. I can't tear my eyes off this- this creature. All too soon, it descends and shifts into a shape more recognizable. A man. Dressed in a pure white robe, inky hair curled in every direction, skin the color of rich soil and piercing charcoal eyes, this man would stand out among any crowd. I must be hallucinating. Are cigarettes supposed to make you hallucinate?

"What kind of alien are you?" I asked in a quivering voice.

The man blinked. Then blinked again. Then stared at me long enough to make me wish I hadn't spoken.

"What kind do you think I am?" he smoothly replies, evading my question.

"A shape-shifting one."

He folds his hands neatly behind his back and doesn't reply.

"And who would you introduce yourself as?" he asks. I have a distinct feeling that he's humouring me. Like a cat who caught a canary.

"I, well, I-uhm-I fancy myself a student." I stuttered out. He doesn't need to know where I am from.

"A student of?"

"Life."

The alien smirked. An uncomfortable silence surrounds us, uncomfortable for me atleast. I feel weaker. Sweat beads at my eyebrows. This alien's presence has a weight that is taking a toll on me.

With nothing to do, I whip out another cigarette. I finished smoking it. Then I pull out a second, then a third, then a fourth.

"How long have you been smoking?" the alien asks suddenly.

"A few decades." I say, lighting another cigarette. A hush falls again.

"How do you speak our language?" I inquired, anything to keep the oppressive silence at bay.

"I've been here before."

"Oh?" I ask, hoping for an elaboration.

"Yes."

None came.

"What is it like?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Your planet. What is it like?"

"It is a human's dream come true. You can have whatever your heart desires. Food, clothing, land, companions. It is eternal peace-"

"Sounds like heaven." I interrupted.

The alien's lips quirked.

"Something of that sort. It can be very beautiful or very terrible depending on the person."

"Why so?"

"Would you wish for good things to happen to evil people?"

"No. Not at all."

"My point exactly."

"What is evil anyway? Is evil caused by a difficult life?You know, I've always wondered."

The alien calmly looks back at me.

"Have you had a sorrowful life?" he asks, a curious gleam in his eyes.

"Sorrowful?" I scoff. "I can barely recognize myself in the mirror anymore. A saying goes 'Let a man walk the halls of sorrow. Whatever comes out, can it be called a man anymore?' " I asked.

"Sorrow is either growth or wasted potential if you have not learned. Power on the other hand, man cannot be trusted with power. It is too corrupting." the alien argues.

"I'll have to politely disagree. Power in itself is not corrupt. Power attracts those who are corruptible. Those who took the wrong lessons from their sorrows."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You have become a cynic only because you felt your life was difficult. Your cigarette is proof enough. It kills you, yet, you stick to it. Doesn't that make you just like them?"

"You are not a human. You don't, and maybe, will never, understand the delicate intricacy of addiction. I am not defending myself. I am ashamed but leaving it is no easy task."

The alien hummed," If you believe so. You are quite a melancholic person." he says, matter of fact.

"So I've been told." I smiled self deprecatingly, "Look at me, debating about ideologies with an alien."

The alien smirked, as if he was in on a joke I wasn't. Strange.

I cleared my throat. It felt itchy. Must've been the cigarettes.

"Anyway,how does your planet deal with 'evil' people."

"You need not worry your head over it. Our, ah, justice system is very fair."

"Oh. Where is it located? Your planet that is."

"Not here. It is somewhere above all the galaxies."

That most certainly piqued my interest. I have wished for death on my worst days but on my best days, I've always been a curious bug, too curious for my own good. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Why are you here?" I finally cave in to my curiosity.

The alien side eyes me and replies, "I'm here to take one person home with me. Forever."

A thrill raced up my spine and anticipation settled in my bones. I licked my frozen, chapped lips. Perhaps I am being selfish. I spent my entire life looking for an escape, an escape from everything, my depression, my poverty, my disease, that hospital and its disinfectant smelling wards, Linda, this wretched world. That is an artist's curse. Escapism, they say, is an art too and I am anything but unacquainted to art. I always wondered about what was beyond, a place where no man had stepped. The golden threads of time, weaved into the fine fabric of the universe, permitted this opportunity to occur in front of me. I will take it even if my hands bleed.

I have no family that left, nobody who loves me. I'm bitter and alone. I deserve to be selfish for once in my life. To take a big leap, a risk. Yes, I will.

"Take me with you." I begged. "Please."

"Why should I?" the alien replied, staring right in my soul.

"You came for me. I know. If you didn't you wouldn't have landed here." I say, hopefully.

"And if I say that is false? What else would you offer?“

"I can offer you beauty and art. I can create for you."

"We have many of those."

"There will ever only be one like me. Just like there is only one artist like them. Themselves only."

Silence enveloped us again while rejection stung my chest again.

"Allow me to prove myself." I plead.

The alien looked at me, questioning.

"Look in my mind, see all that there is." I say determinedly. And I let him in my mind, let him see the world through my eyes and feel what I felt. I let him see my arts, my music, my poetry, my paintings that I crafted lovingly with my aged hands. I let him see what a human sees, something I know that he had never witnessed. Then I revealed my sorrows. Hopefully humanity would appeal to it.

With a pull he left my head. My eyes burned and I felt a blood vessel burst. I dry heaved on the dead ground but the nausea still lingered. I am glad I was seated or my knees would've buckled and I would've been an undignified heap on the floor. All the while the alien just stared and stared. I am getting sick of his staring too.

Once again, I broke the silence.

"I will paint your skies," I continue, hesitantly, "and your buildings and walls. I will write for the children and even for the old. Just please, take me. I'm exhausted ."

My eyes burned again, unshed tears waiting for release. I avert my eyes and let out a sigh. I feel heavy and my shoulders slump. Unexplainable exhaustion overcomes me and my temperature keeps rising, beads of sweat rolling down my face.

"If," he began,then stopped. It was the first time in our entire conversation that I saw him hesitate.

"If," he continued, "if I were to ask you to scream your wish at me, what would you fear more; your echo or my answer? “

"My echo", I reply instantaneously.

"Why?"

"Because it would mean you have declined."

"Hmm. Recite a poem for me."

I gave a shaky, hopeful smiled and offered him my words:

My river by the oak tree

has turned molten gold again,

as the glowing orb of light and life surrenders to the sapphire sky.

The cotton clouds float in shy, pink circles

While the rush of the river awakens a memory I had long forgotten,

When this same tree once bore luscious flowers,

Their scent wafting lazily into the cool breeze,

While I sat and reminisced about the possibility of other lives in the universe,

Under the wrinkled, silver moon.

Silence hugged us again while the impact of my weakened voice lingered in the air.

"Do you believe in other lives? Aliens and such?" he questioned.

"Yes I do, I mean you are here so that confirms it too."

"You are a funny one. No one has ever mistaken me for an alien." it grinned, crooked, as if a gesture it wasn't familiar with.

My body went cold and tremors shook it to its feeble core, my breath coming out in shallow pants. My eyes shut down of their own accord. The entity then spoke with a voice that might have held the weight of a thousand suns,

"Beyond the stars we go."

[redthedm]

2. You are alone in a room but you don't remember how you got there.

It just goes to show how fucked up you'd become when you didn't even remember how you ended up in your old apartment's sofa. You can feel the throbbing of your temple and didn't even attempt to sit up to look around.

Normally, you would have panicked. Your anxiety's screaming at the back of your mind that you needed to go, leave, before he comes back  and starts looking at you with greengreen eyes that worry and care and - fuck. You didn't even know what day it was. Didn't even want to know.

There's still the same cracks on the white ceiling. You notice that the light bulb is new. The thought that you always promised to replace it every time you both used to complain about it flashes through your addled mind before you shove it deep into the metaphorical closet of things you'd force yourself to forget later. You're uncomfortably comfortable. Your old sofa's attempting to swallow you whole in soft soft foam that you fear you might not be able to get out of it. The indentation on its surface tracing your body with enough space prepped for him to snuggle into and you can't-  

You needed to get away from this familiar comfort. Out of this familiar space. Out of this state of mind because the last time-

Your breath shudders and you sink deeper into memory, foam and not, taking the comfort as it is and cursing yourself in your head when you finally get a whiff of your breath. Alcohol's always been something you avoided, mostly because you didn't like the taste of it, but also because you were afraid you'd be like those stories you've heard about drunk people doing crazy shit. Based on where you found yourself at that moment, you're more afraid of what you wanted to do. Because the last time-

The last time you got drunk you jumped off the bridge on 37th street. And you had to stay in the hospital not because of drowning, or injuries, or anything like that. The doctors deemed you a flight risk, they called you suicidal without even saying it when it was just 5 meters of respite and it wasn't fair-

And again your head throbs, or maybe it was your heart, you're never really sure when that happens. And as you snuggle into the rugged scarlet duvet your senses are overwhelmed by the warmth and smell of burnt oak, cinnamon and rain and the familiarity and it hurts. Because you didn't deserve to feel as safe as you did in that moment while indulging yourself in memories you yourself chose to throw away.

It hurts. Because in the end you knew that despite whatever you said that one afternoon weeks ago, he'd still be willing to let you stay the night. Day. Whatever. Because he's that kind of asshole. He's always been that asshole. Too kind. Too compassionate. Too good. For you, and all your baggage and anxieties and securities and demons and it wasn't fair that such a perfect man had to deal with all your bullshit.

Yet still, still you sort of wished you didn't walk away that afternoon. Didn't let the demons sway you from his affections, because god if you didn't know how to deal with such a man begging for you to stay. He was begging you, a stupid sonofabitch, the fucked-up-beyond-reason motherfucker who didn't even know  how to say 'I love you' without having an anxiety attack while they're having their anniversary dinner. The fucking cunt who decided the proper response to a long term boyfriend proposing was to lock themselves in the bathroom for hours while said boyfriend tried not to panic from the other side of the door trying to calm you like a spooked animal and you can't-

A solid hand settling on your head startles you enough to take a deep breath. Your heart settles down yet throbs audibly. Blood rushes to your ears as rough fingers thread through your short black curls and you keep your eyes shut because you knew. You knew. You knew that if you opened them you'd meet greengreen eyes that cared and worried and loved that you would lose it.

So you let those hands massage your head and you listened to the soft low hum of your favorite song and you kept your eyes closed and you let the guilt, the grief, the remorse, drain enough so that you weren't actually drowning in it. It took a few minutes that felt like forever, but the tides rushing through your ears calmed, and the dark pit devouring your insides receded enough that you didn't feel like ripping open your chest.

And it was forever before your eyes responded to your soul's need to meet its one. Oh how your soul yearned for something you knew it didn't deserve to have. Because he deserved someone better than a piece of trash. Better than a second-rate starving artist that had to resort to doing things he swore to himself he would never do just to get some place to stay the night. Better than an anxiety ridden loser who couldn't even live for himself, let alone for somebody else.

You must have been quite a sight.

You hated how sad his greengreen eyes looked.

You hated how he still gave you a soft smile despite you being the mess that you are.

You hated how his eyes sparkled, with tears and relief and love, and how strands of his golden hair fell over his eyes as if to agree with your sentiment of not deserving all this affection.

Your fingers reached up to tuck those loose strands behind his ear, because despite your utter hatred for yourself you loved the way his eyes shone in the dim light of the room.

You loved how he still seemed to hold his breath as your finger came into contact with his skin.

You loved how his fingers played with your own hair. Loved how the swirling pattern they moved in held your attention as strong as it always did.

You loved how he seemed to look at you like you mattered.

Your hand moved away from him. You gripped the duvet tighter.

"Hey."

Your knuckles tighten and you suck in a breath.

"Thank you for coming back."

You felt the rush of regret and anguish before you felt the tears overflow. His smile is so tender, and so pure, and so forgiving that you couldn't help but let a sob escape.

You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve him.

His face softens even more and you couldn't have done anything against the torrent of abyss that spewed out of your soul. And here he comes again, the sun, your sun, to chase away the darkness that's been draped across your shoulders for your whole life. You feel the sofa dip as he slips into the space in the universe made for him. You feel his arms wrap around you, feel his body hoard you against the back of the sofa so that all you could sense was him and him alone.

He's humming your song this time. Not yours, yours,  and once again you're reminded of how awful it is that someone so incredible fell in love with someone so- so--

You didn't deserve all his love. You knew you didn't. You're sure you didn't. And yet- and yet--

You wanted to be selfish. For yourself. For him. You wanted to stay with him so bad. You wanted to be able to wake up next to him and feel his arms wrapped around you even in his slumber. You wanted to hear his laugh that sent your heart galloping. You want to see his grin that lit up the room. You wanted to hold his hand and have his finger trace circles on the back of your hand. You want to taste his lips that always set fireworks behind your closed lids whenever you kissed. You wanted to wipe his tears away when he inevitably starts watching Nicholas Sparks again. You wanted to wrap your arms around him when he's shaking in fear from the thunder of a storm. You wanted to eat breakfast with him, and lunch, and dinner.

You wanted him, oh how you wanted him.

"You'll be okay love. We'll be okay."

He kisses your forehead. Your arms wrap around him and both your arms draw each other closer.

You wanted to believe him so bad. To believe in the both of you.

"We'll be alright."

You hum in response and tuck your head beside his neck. Maybe, just this once, you can afford to be selfish. Just this once, you're going to keep something way out of your league for yourself.

Just this once, you'll try to be alright.

Maybe, the next time you wake up, you actually will be.

[mamashitty]

Dear Sirena

Character: Hamilton B. Jefferson Playby: Hugh Dancy Thread: Characters & Characters & Characters Ship: Sirham — in friendship now. Brief mention of Gavilton. Post/One Shot: One Shot...ish? Date Posted: 8.19.2018 Blurb: Ham received a letter from his ex, Sirena, in the middle of the night. Oh, their relationship is long and complicated. Anyway, they have a lot of history. She can’t sleep. It is August, a rough month for them both. This is Hamilton’s reply to her.

It was nearly midnight when Hamilton’s box glowed. Ever since the attack on the Cerulean House, Hamilton had had a difficult time sleeping. He was in his own apartment for the evening, Gavin being out of the country on work. Hamilton had half the mind to sneak into Gavin’s place even without his husband being there because he slept better in Gavin’s bed than he did in the bed of his new apartment. His temporary apartment. He missed the Cerulean House. He missed the noises the old place made, the creaks in the boards as Washington explored the house at night, as Billings or Leslie moved about. He missed sleeping in a library—the smell of the books—and the fact if his mind was restless he had access to more books than he could name or count. His apartment, nice was it was, felt a little sterile to him. It was only temporary lodgings, a place to stay while the Cerulean House was repaired and newer, better wards, placed on it. He would have much rather not be renting this apartment and just living with Gav, but there would have been questions.

Having a secret marriage was the pits sometimes(see: all the time), especially lately, with the state of mind he was in ever since the attack on the Cerulean House. His brother and Billings had survived, but a part of Hamilton felt forever changed. More changed than the attacks on himself or the kidnapping. Something about almost losing his brother, of possibly even almost losing Gavin because Gavin had been there that night, of the thought of Billings or Leslie or even Lexa getting hurt or worse. The thoughts and worries played in his mind constantly and really the only time he got decent sleep was when Gavin was with him, arms around him. Or his arms around Gavin. He stared at the box. He always kept it somewhere he could see, and in this new apartment, it was at his new desk. A piece of furniture he was renting, something that lacked all the character and history of the desk in his library bedroom. No other Presidents had sat at this desk, and he realized his thoughts were petulant at best. He moved to his desk and took a seat. He removed the letter from Sirena. It was August. The Month of Lincoln, on top of the shit from the summer, no wonder he could not sleep. So he read, and reached for his own notebook and a pen because he knew would reply as soon as he finished reading. He could tell from the way the words looked on the page that Sirena was upset, he did not even need the clue of the tear spots. He could read it in her writing. He and Sirena, they had been writing to each other since Sirena was fourteen and Ham sixteen, he knew the sweep of her letters. He knew how to read excitement in them and despair. He could read in the strokes when she was trying to be brave and when she was angry. She had a peculiar way that she wrote certain letters, ways he had tried to replicate when they were younger and he never managed to quite match them. Sirena, he could tell before he even read the words, was a mess. And his heart went out to her because… August was hard. Sirena, I am awake. Ever since the attack on the Cerulean House, I have not been able to sleep as well as I once would. I am alone tonight which makes sleep even harder to come by, and it is August. We both know what August means. I wish you were sleeping, it is no longer late where you are at, but quite soundly morning. Three days (or as I write this reply is it really four?) without sleep, Sirena… you can’t do that to yourself, to your body. It will give out one day. I know, I know. If you could sleep—you would. I am going to stop lecturing you. Are the potions no longer working for you? Though, you never did take anything for actual sleep, did you?  Just potions to keep the nightmares at bay. Are those potions no longer working? For what it is worth, I doubt that Theo thinks you are unstable all the time. Maybe just a tiny bit at this moment, but you have so much on your shoulders, Sirena. You always put so much on your shoulders. You block yourself off, throwing shields and barriers up, at the times when you need people the most. August is a hard month and it will never be easy. I think I am glad that you let your guard down, that you yelled to Theo about Lincoln, that your sadness about Lincoln slipped out without you meaning it to. Because, I think Theo is in it for the long haul, Sirena. I see the way he looks at you. I don’t think you can push him away so easily. Not that I think you are intentionally pushing him away. You just have such a hard time opening yourself up. You always have, ever since your Mom. Your Dad closed off to you then, and you did the same. Except, you had us Jeffersons constantly poking at your shields. Did I ever tell you that I thought I hated your father for awhile? Your Mom had just died and I could not find it in me to be empathetic to the grief your father was feeling, to the way he handled that grief. I only saw him pushing his daughter away, keeping her locked out, effectively making it like she had lost both her parents instead of one. You were the love of my life at the time, and I hated anyone who hurt you. My parents told me to be respectful, to not tell you what I was really feeling towards your father, to give him time. It was always give him time. And, they did their best to step into the void left by your parents, and I loved them so much more for that. But always I would want to grab your father by his shoulders and scream into his face that he was pushing you away, that he was losing you, and that you too were closing off. I definitely do not hate your father now, and I don't’ think it was ever really hate—just—a strong dislike and anger. Fuck, I am rambling. I’ll just pretend that I hope my rambling will lull you to sleep. Did I tell you that I am seeing Dr. Maeve Connolly again? It has only been a few weeks, really. I started going to her back in July, once things started to settle down a little. It all became too much after the attack, after seeing Madison like that. Probably, I would have benefited going back to her long before that, maybe after the kidnapping. But I always had an excuse, you know?  Bullshit things like, what if word got out that the President of MACUSA was seeing a therapist? Worries about patient and healer confidentiality, but… all of that was stupid of me to think. I got to thinking of how much she helped me after we lost Lincoln… Sirena, you need to stop blaming yourself for what happened with Lincoln. It was not your fault. It was NEVER your fault and it will never be your fault. It was just the cruelty of life. You did everything absolutely right when you found out you were pregnant. I think that is one thing about myself that I will never forgive myself for—that I did try to blame you—but I was foolish and stupid and awful for that. It was easier turning my own grief over like that. The men in your life, we fucking suck with how we handle our grief, don’t we? Hopefully, Theo will be a much better man than your father and I ever were in that department. I guess I am just trying to say, that seeing someone helped me with Lincoln, and is helping me now. Therapy is more than just a band-aid solution. And you don’t have to talk about everything that haunts you, you do not have to bring up Lincoln or your time in Azkaban if you are not ready. You don’t have to talk about the war. You can talk about how you can’t sleep, the fear you get from sleeping because of the nightmares. You can talk about absolutely anything you want, and save the bigger stuff until the healer is no longer a stranger to you. Therapy, it does not fix things in one meeting or even a hundred—it is a constant process, always evolving and changing as you and your needs change and evolve. Just… think about it, Sirena. Don’t write it off because you think it is a lost cause. I know how hard it is for you to open up to someone. Even someone you love and care for, let alone a person you do not even know or trust. But… they are trained to help you. Just like you help people with your potions and research. Think about it. I know you picture your life and what it would be like if Lincoln had been born if we had been able to raise our son. It is painful and magical all at once, because I think about it all the time, especially in August. Think about the example you would want to set him. I know, I would not want him to think it was shameful to seek help. Not that I think you think it is shameful to go to therapy, just… I don’t know. I am going to force myself to stop writing this letter. I want you to sleep, but I will tell you that, I doubt I will be going to sleep anytime soon myself. My box is always open for you, and Merlin that would sound a lot dirtier if I were a female. - Hamilton p.s. I think if Lincoln went to Hogwarts instead of Ilvermorny, he would be a Ravenclaw, from what I have heard of their houses. It is less painful for me to imagine him at Hogwarts than Ilvermorny. Hamilton stared at the letter he had finished writing. Then he folded it neatly and placed it in the box. He tapped the box with his wand, and then stood up and went to get a drink. He figured he would camp at his shitty rented desk for a little awhile longer, and a drink would help.

[katymacsupernatural]

Stories to Awaken Terror Part 1: Bloody Bones

Dean Winchester x Reader

1500 Words

Story Summary: As a couple of kids read a scary book, Sam, Dean and Y/N live those scary tales. Will they be able to figure out what’s causing the hunts before it’s too late?

Warnings: Creepy monster?? Taken from an old version of the Boogeyman

“The boogeyman?” You questioned breathlessly. “I just thought he was a childhood nightmare, not something real!”

Sam glanced quickly your way, as the two of you continued to back up the darkened stairs, your heart beating in time with each loud footstep following you. “Seriously Y/N? In this line of work you still thought something could be fake?”

“Do you guys have to talk about this now?” Dean muttered on the other side of the door, the door your backs were currently up against. “How about a little help on that side Sammy?”

Sam turned around to help unlock the door, while you kept your flashlight pointed straight ahead, watching as it bobbed up and down with the shaking of your hand.

Down below you, two red eyes peered out of the darkness, out of the reach of the beam of your flashlight. You swore you heard teeth gnashing together, as each wooden step creaked with the monster’s boney footsteps.

“I’m on the first step,” the monster voice, cackling and high giggled from below you, more terrifying than you would have ever thought. “You naughty children, I’m coming for you.”

“Sam,” you whispered, turning to your best friend, hoping that by now the door would be open and you could tumble into Dean’s waiting arms.

“Y/N, this door is magically sealed. We can’t get out, Dean can’t get in,” he muttered the words you hated to hear.

“Sam, what are we going to do? There’s only one way out and it’s that door. If we go down below, we’re lunch for bloody bones,” you cried, as loud pounding came from the other side.

“Damn it guys, I can’t get it open!! I’ll figure something out, you just need to hold on!” Dean yelled.

“I’m on the second step,” Bloody bones, otherwise known as the boogeyman teased you, his boney fingers creeping into the beam of your flashlight. Blood dripped from each bone, and you couldn’t control the gag that escaped your lips.

“What are we going to do?” You whispered, pressed against the door, Sam at your side. You could still hear Dean scrambling about the other side, and you wanted him by your side.

“You naughty children,” Bloody bones continued to cackle. “You’ve been so bad, coming in here and ruining my hunting chances.”

“Shut up!” You screamed at the monster. “You’ve been killing innocent children. You need to be taken care of!”

“Those children deserved it,” Bloody Bones muttered, another step closer, his face coming into view. His eyes were huge, blank as they stared up at you. His face was nothing more than a skull, muscle and tissue hanging grotesquely off, blood turning the skull a shiny red. It was one of the most disgusting things you had ever seen, and you had seen a lot.

Sam raised his gun, pulling the trigger, and shooting Bloody Bones square in the forehead. The monster acted as if nothing had happened, taking another step. “I’m on the fifth step,” it taunted, opening its mouth and showing it’s sharp teeth.

“Damn it,” Sam muttered, before Dean yelled through the door. “I’m going for help! Don't’ get eaten!”

As his side of the door turned to silence, you turned back, screaming when you noticed Bloody Bones was only a step away from you now, his bloody hand reaching out to you.

Sam stepped in front of you, attempting to push the monster down the stairs, but it was surprisingly strong, picking Sam up as if it weighed nothing. “You will be punished,” it told Sam before tossing him behind him.

Screaming for Sam as he tumbled down the stairs, you raised your gun, firing off another shot, although it did no good.

Searching for anything to beat the monster with, you screamed in terror as it lifted you up by the neck, his eyes a void as it stared at you, your fight faltering as your lungs ached for air. “You will be punished,” it promised you before you knew no more.

“What happened to the girl?” His sister, Sophia asked, clutching her pillow tight to her chest. “I don’t want her to die!”

“Hey, what about the guy?” His best friend Tyler asked, trying to stay calm even though his face was pale. “Dude that monster is creepy!”

Zach was trying to stay brave, trying to show his friend and kid sister that there was nothing to be afraid of. After all, it was just a stupid book, and a fake scary story. “Guys it’s just a story.”

“But where did you even find that book?” His sister asked.

“At this yard sale,” he muttered. “Listen Sophia, if this is too scary, why don’t you crawl back to the house and sleep with Mom and Dad.”

“No, I want to stay here,” she whispered.

“But hey Zach. Doesn’t this seem like a weird book?” Tyler asked him. Zach stared down at the book, having to agree with his friend. It was an old book, with no date written inside. Words had been written on the cover page, words that were in a different language. Symbols were drawn throughout, one or two written in a dark red ink. It had sat on the table, buried under other books, but it called to him. He had pleaded with his mother for the money, holding the book tight to him when it became his. That had been over a month ago, and with each passing story, Zach found himself getting more and more obsessed with the book. It was torture waiting for the weekly sleepover, and often times he found himself bringing it to bed with him, cuddling the book to his chest.

“Let’s continue,” he insisted, opening the book back to his bookmark, his heart already accelerating, wanting to know what was going to happen next.

Your mouth dry like it was full of cotton, your throat sore, you came to suddenly, thrashing about on the floor. Your mouth was covered with a dirty thread of fabric, and you didn’t even want to imagine where it had been before. “Sam?” You mumbled, making no sense through the fabric.

Training your eyes to see in the dark, you noticed Sam hanging from his arms in the corner, his shirt ripped open, Bloody Bones dancing around him in glee.

“You’re tougher and leaner than my usual children, but you’ll do nicely, yes you will,” it kept muttering over and over, reaching out and running it’s hand along Sam’s chest. Sam tried to pull away, but he was weak, and could only groan as the monster’s claws cut into his skin.

“Leave him alone!” You screamed, turning those creepy, lifeless eyes your way.

“Ooh, the naughty girl is awake. I’ll save her for later,” he muttered to himself. “Maybe as a stew.”

“You’ll leave her alone!” Dean yelled from the top of the stairs, but with the way you were laying you couldn’t see him.

“Dean?” You called out, trying to fight your bindings as Bloody Bone’s ran his claws against Sam’s arm as if he hadn’t heard Dean at all.

“This arm will do nicely,” he mumbled, his tongue darting out to lick at his absent lips. “I’m so hungry. Those three children weren’t enough.”

“I warned you,” Dean spoke low, holding his flame launcher low, ready to take out the monster as soon as it stepped away from his brother. Bloody Bones took a step towards Dean, his teeth bared, and Dean took that at his opportunity, lighting the monster on fire.

It’s screams hurt your ears, and if your arms had been free you would have covered them. You could only watch as the Monster turned into a pile of ash, and it was only then that Dean stopped, panting heavily.

“Are you two okay?” Dean asked, glancing at his brother before coming over to help you. Undoing the rope, he gently picked you up, holding you steady as he stared down at you.

“I’m okay, but Sam took the biggest beating,” you told Dean, who kept you close to his side.

“I was so worried,” Dean spoke softly, surprising you when he he cupped your cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, pushing him away so he could go help his brother, even though you liked being held close to him.

As Dean helped his brother up the stairs, you followed behind, wondering how this hunt had even happened in the first place. Boogeyman, or Bloody Bones as he had been called, wasn’t supposed to exist. Only in nightmares to scare young children, and yet you had been literally shoved into this small town, right into the case about small children disappearing. It felt wrong, and for a moment you wondered if Gabriel was back, tricking you with these weird hunts. What other explanation could there be?

Dean Tags: @acreativelydifferentlove @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @anokhi07 @aubreystilinski @bebravekeeponfighting @colette2537 @crusadedean @deanwinchesters-impala67 @haelyn @horsegirly99 @ikeneasul11 @its-not-a-tulpa @just-another-winchester @librarygeekery @msimpala67 @lenaabs @love-charmer-sketch @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @shadowhunter7 @sizzlingbearpolice @sleep-silent-angel @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @thesaneone @torn-and-frayed @wonderfulworldofwinchester

Stories To Awaken Terror Tags: @joseyrw @suckystoryteller @salt-n-burn-em-all @wingedcatninja @waywardbaby @waywardnerd67 @horsegirly99 @profoundly-bitchy-collection @jae-sch @sociopathtime @depressed-moose-78 @sophiebobzz @oreosatmidnight @librarygeekery @winchesterxtwo @asirammm @itsmerighthere @squirrelnotsam @esoltis280 @karmamariejoy @brindz30 @linki-locks11 @xthelittlethings @incredibly-sarcastic-url @alwayskeepfightingkaz-2y5 @imascio08

Forever Tags: @16wiishes @4401lnc @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @angelsandwinchesters @anspgene @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @bemyqueenofdarkness @bohowitch @bumber-car-s @brooke-supernatural16  @brunettechick @camelotandastronauts @captainradicalpassion @chelsea072498 @clairese1980 @captainemwinchester @createdbybadappreciation @darthdeziewok @destiels-new-girl @donnaintx @dont-you-dare-say-misha @dslocum89 @duckieburns @docharleythegeekqueen @emmazach @emilicious-7 @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @essie1876 @generalgoldfishldrm @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @herbologystudent252 @hms-fangirl @hobby27 @ichooseeternalplaces @imboredsueme @internationalmusicteacher @ithinkimadorable-67 @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jbbarnesgirl @jensen-gal @just-another-busy-fangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @keelzy2 @leanbeankeane @li-ssu @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice @luciferslucille @maui137 @mellowlandrunaway @mogaruke @my-squirrel-and-moose @nanie5 @newtospnfandom @offbeatsilhouette @percussiongirl2017​ @pilaxia @pizzarollpatrol @plaid-lover-bay25​ @ronja-uebrick @rosegoldquintis​ @roxyspearing​ @samaxraph99 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @smoothdogsgirl @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @sunskittlex @superbadassnatural @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @teamfreewill92 @thebikiniinspector @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tmccarney @totallovelesson @tunadean @vvinch3st3r @whimsicalrobots @wildlandfox @winchesterbrothers-inc @winchesterxtwo @winchester-writes @worldwidehansum @zombiewerewolfqueen

[mybodyliberation]

Forever 21 Plus - Haul (Holiday Edition)

A month after going I am finally able to review my Disneyland Paris outfits.

I could say I was sorry but that would only be true if I had a twin or a clone and she was out here picking up the slack for everything I have been totally failing to do, which includes looking after myself, finding balance, maintaining my relationship, being fully present at work and a host of other things.

So I'm not sorry, but I am excited to share my first experience with Forever 21 Plus.

Now my planning for Disney was military, not only did I have an entire holiday itinerary, which we stuck to, I also knew that I wanted holiday threads (specifically outfits) and I was on a budget.

I knew I wanted to look cute, colourful as anything but also primarily be comfortable because we were going to be doing a lot of walking.

47 miles in total actually.

I distinctly remember when forever 21 started their plus range. I was in the states at the time but felt too shy to shop there. It was a shop for beautiful, cool, stylish women but GUESS WHAT, I am one, you are one, so we can shop there.

Being an American company that no longer has any shops here in the UK (that I know of) I got my order in early to allow for shipping but actually everything arrived very promptly.

Everything was packaged nicely. Returns form etc

I did have a moment of hesitation unpacking purely based on the fact that things looked smaller in front of me than they had on the website but truthfully everything has a lot of give and stretch and so most of that worry soon went out the window.

Day 1

Truthfully I last minute snuck a cheeky Primark t-shirt into the haul, only because bae spotted it and I thought it would be crazy not to travel to Disney in a Disney t-shirt, but the leggings and the rain jacket are forever 21. The leggings are an 18, the dark burgundy means its not see through and has plenty of stretch which is great for me because I have thick thighs and a big old booth that need room to breathe. The rain jacket is a 20 and slightly more snug than I anticipated but still totally fine. It has more to do with the material. The tie dye effect is gorgeous in the sunlight and it does the job of keeping the rain and cold out.

Day 2

This t-shirt has become one of my favourites this spring/summer already. It's so light and it's so roomy for an 18. Honestly I know it's her casual use, but I always feel if I've gotten a boguie face beat on I really don't what I'm wearing. It kept my cool and warm, later on in the evening all day, I looked cute, I paired it with my black leggings and I was ready to go. It has a tom vibe and sometimes I have that's so great for me.

Day 3

My best Matilda Pose for this outfit because I felt unstoppable and powerful in this ensemble. The minute I saw this t-shirt online, I had to have it. I am wild honey in motion and that's how I have always felt, even when I couldn't express or articulate it. Its an 18 and super stretchy so would most likely be fine on a 20.The grey leggings were so comfortable. And again not see through (my leggings pet peeve)

Day 4

Here was a date night vibe for you. I knew I wanted to take a dress with me but I knew I would only be taking one and it had to be special. It had to sum up how I was feeling and how the experience was feeling and this rainbow dress was it. I was serving you every colour in the rainbow darlings. It's an true 18 and the fit was amazing. It wasn't too short either which was great since I wasn't planning on flashing. The material was light and airy and I was living for the off the shoulder puff sleeve. Combined with my hair, I got a lot of stares but I felt like a Queen and bae loved it, so job done.

Day 5

The moment I saw these floral trousers on the website I knew that I was absolutely going to have them and that I absolutely would be wearing them on the last evening for full on Disney cuteness and comfort. They were so airy and the sizing was super generous for an 18 but that was fine because of the drawstring. They were long in the legs, so it would be great for my leggy sisters, but I love how amazing they felt and how comfortable they were to walk in, eat in (thanks baggy pants) and overall it was a great final day outfit. The t-shirt is an 18 as well and so far I'm really pleased with the quality because it's been washed several times and still looks great.

Five outfits for five days at Disneyland Paris and I could not be happier. I will absolutely be buying from forever 21 again. Most likely for my next holiday in September. Watch this space, cause I might even through in a swimsuit!