#apologies for clogging up anyone’s feeds with that stuff I will ~not~ be doing it again

[ninyard]

-

[leilanising]

Hi.

I just wanna well ask you something

You've been posting a lot of stuff about the war.

I don't want to offend anyone really!

If you don't like anything I say you can just block me!!!

idk I guess I just come to this site to get away from all the stuff happening in the world.

I guess I just wanted to tell you this....

You can block me anytime!

I really like your art and I'm very sorry for saying this!!

h'lo friend!! No worries! I completely understand where your coming from! Life hurts, and I absolutely understand wanting to escape lol.

For me, it's rlly frustrating to see things like the war, and I feel like I should do something, even if it's not much, but I apologize if all my reblogs are clogging up my actual posts and are stressing you out😅

Would it help if I started tagging it as reblog or something, so that it wouldn't show up on your feed?

But thank you so much for stopping by, I really appreciate ur feedback, and I rlly love getting asks!

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 6

Thomas X Reader

by @adventuresintooblivion

Word Count: 1929

Summary: Walking home in the cold is never fun. Thomas organizes a search party.

On the way back, they didn’t bother to put a bag over her head. They were more concerned about making sure her blood didn’t get on the backseat. Inspector Campbell wasn’t with them; he had stayed behind. 

Y/N was barely conscious. Everything ached. Her thoughts were sluggish at best as she was flung from side to side when they rounded tight corners too quickly. She forced her eyes open just enough to tell it was dark. Thomas should be looking for her by now. If he had noticed I was gone.

She banished that thought with a shaky breath and tried to reserve her strength. Y/N didn’t know how far she’d have to go on her own before someone found her. She just hoped they didn’t dump her in a pile of trash.

After what seemed like ages they came to a sudden halt. “So we just leave her here right?”

“Boss said we were supposed to take her clothes too. Make sure she’s only in her underclothes so she doesn’t violate any decency laws.”

“B...But it’s freezing out there.”

“You saw what she did to Matthew. I think that’s the point.”

Moments later she was tossed onto the ground, body trying to recoil from the freezing stone as it scraped her hot skin. The car drove off, leaving behind a noxious cloud of gas in its wake.

Y/N didn’t move despite the cold. Nowhere she could get to would be any warmer, and quite frankly she couldn’t get her body to move. They’d left the handcuffs on which meant she’d have to navigate around those to get anywhere useful.

After a long while she took a deep breath and sat up. Everything screamed. She was more than certain she at least had a couple of broken ribs. Slowly she lifted her hands, testing out each finger individually to see if they were broken. She thanked whatever Devil had been watching over her that her hands  were still intact at the very least.

Besides her ribs and maybe a toe, nothing seemed broken or bent too far out of place. However, she could literally feel the bullet nestled next to her spine. The muscles around it had inflamed so much that ,normally, she wouldn’t have dared to try and get out of bed. Not exactly an option right now.

She glanced around, and with her limited knowledge she realized she was on the very edge of Peaky Blinder territory. Which meant she had about five miles to cross before she could get to the Garrison if she was lucky.

Y/N used her hands to scoot backwards toward a wall. Every inch jostled her injuries. Bruises had already formed around most of her torso, and her left eye was beginning to swell shut. She braced her hands against the wall, placing her right leg beneath her and pushed. A roar tore from her lips as she forced herself to stand.

The pain made her shake so hard her teeth clattered together. Or maybe it was shivering from the cold. She didn’t know anymore. Tonight the air was not only cold but wet as well. It had rained sometime during her capture, making everything slick, but this also caused the type of cold to change to one that seeped into your bones and make you ache. As if she weren’t aching already.

To her right was the pile of trash she’d imagined them tossing her into. It became apparent why they hadn’t. Campbell wanted her alive and not more of a cripple than she already was. Beside her, a maimed ironing board jutted out awkwardly into the road. She sidled closer using the wall to hold most of her weight.

Her hand closed around the foot of the ironing board and she pulled. Her legs buckled under her and she collapsed.

Y/N screamed in frustration. She steeled herself. One. Two. THREE. She used all her weight to yank back on the leg of the ironing board, freeing it from the mess. 

She didn’t give herself time to celebrate her small victory before she scooted back to the wall and stood. The leg was long enough to act as a sort of crutch, something she desperately needed if she was to make it any distance. With a slow lean, she tested it out to see if it would hold her weight. It bowed slightly but would do well enough. With vengeance burning in her heart, Y/N began the long trek home.

~

Thomas thought he already knew what madness was. He was certain the nights he couldn’t sleep came pretty damn close when opium mixed with memories of war. This, on the other hand, was something entirely different, and he hated every second of it.

He’d stopped by the Garrison rather late to check up on Y/N, certain he’d get an earful for his stunt at the high class restaurant. He had said ‘hello’ to Harry and Grace, and asked if she was in. When the answer was no, he’d gone to wait at one of the tables. Evening gave way to dusk. Then dusk to night. Hell, Harry had handed him a key and told him to lock the door behind him on the way out as if he didn’t have two already.

When it hit eight o’clock, Thomas sprinted down the road to grab his brothers and the few men he could rouse at this hour. Now, he and half the gang were out searching for Y/N. There was nothing specific that told him something was wrong, just a gut feeling.

Thomas had sent men to each of the major directions people used to come into the area. They’d wait until word came for them to come home in case she was just out running errands or something. The rest fanned out starting from the pub and worked their way out systematically.

“You’re being paranoid Tommy,” Arthur grumbled for the hundredth time.

Thomas snapped, “My being paranoid has saved your skin on multiple occasions, so how about you shut it and keep your eyes peeled?”

He continued as if Thomas hadn’t spoken, “I just don’t get why you woke us up to go searching for some broad-”

His brother closed the distance between them in moments, lifting up Arthur by the collar as he shoved him against a nearby wall. Thomas’ voice was a low hiss in the night, “She is under my protection Arthur. Not the Peaky Blinders. Mine. I will not hear another word of disrespect out of your mouth, understood.”

“Geez Tommy, What the hell? If she’s just another piece of tail you’re chasing-”

“She’s not. Y/N saved my life and yours countless times.”

Arthur growled, “What’s she got to do with me? I never met her before the other day.”

“She was a Runner!” Thomas’ voice echoed off the deserted street.

Arthur’s face turned a ghostly white, “You mean she was up there distracting the Germans while we-”

“While we dug. Yes. Now stop your whining and help. Me. Find. Her.”

Thomas practically threw Arthur when he released him. Before he could apologize Thomas was already storming off into the night. What he’d told Arthur was only a partial truth, but he couldn’t say the words aloud again so soon after speaking them for the first time in years. If Arthur wanted the full story he could go find himself a reverend. 

A loud shuffling suddenly caught Thomas’ attention. It was coming from around the corner up ahead. He instinctively lifted his light, illuminating the street in front of him. He called out, “Who is that?”

There wasn’t an immediate answer, but the shuffling seemed to speed up ever so slightly. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity he watched as Y/N rounded the corner.  Her face was every shade of red, black and blue skin could possibly be. Y/N’s left eye was swollen shut. Her clothes were missing causing her skin to have a deathly pallor in the cold, but it also let him see more of her skin. The bruises covered the majority of her skin, and one of her toes looked swollen compared to the rest. She was leaning against what looked like a malformed house appliance as she gasped for breath.

Y/N flashed him a grin and immediately regretted her decision. “Hey Tommy.”

“Y/N!” He rushed forward, scooping her up into his arms. 

She let out a loud hiss as the most ginger of movements jostled her, but once she was off her feet a certain stress had left her features.

Thomas spun around as Arthur came into view. “Gather everyone up, I need anyone with medical experience at the Garrison, now!” 

Arthur’s eyes landed on Y/N’s figure, his eyes widening in horror before he sprinted off in the direction more of the men took.

“Y/N, talk to me ok? We’ll get you nice and fixed up once we’re back at the Pub. But I don’t want you passing out on me just yet.” Thomas began sprinting, the quake in his voice was the only hint that anything was wrong.

A shot rang out. Just one, but that's all it took. Tommy reached for her to pull her back to safety. He didn't even get to her in time to catch her collapsing body. Y/N hit the ground hard. 

Tommy was there in a heartbeat. He glanced around wildly. Dirt clogged his lungs as he gasped for breath. Searching. They were alone except for the dead. And the dying.

“No. Y/N. Hey, look at me. You can beat this alright? We just need to get you back to the med-tent.” the crack in his voice betrayed him. He was Thomas Shelby. He had to be strong.

Y/N shook her head, blood oozing slowly from her stomach. “Tommy if we move they’ll shoot you just as fast. I...I’ve some things to say-”

Thomas shook his head so hard his hair fell into his eyes, “You can’t talk like that. If you say stuff like that you’ve already lost.”

She placed a finger on his lips. It was covered in a thick layer of mud, but he knew the soft flesh that lay beneath. The gentle gesture caught him off guard amidst all of the chaos. Y/N spoke so low he had to lean forward to hear her.

When she didn’t answer he began to truly panic so he said the only thing that came to mind, “If we make it through this will you marry me?”

She slapped him. “Shelby I swear to God if you make that joke one more time I’m going to feed you your testicles and turn your ball sack into a coin purse.”

“It . . . Got us through a lot.” For the first time in recent memory, he sounded uncertain. 

Y/N turned her face toward his shirt. “That was before you meant it.”

Her voice broke; they both heard it. He had wondered if she remembered those last few minutes between the two of them. They had fucked before that fateful day, so the chemistry was no surprise. They had also been fast friends from the start; only her and Danny got along more famously.  

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “If it had gone as planned, would you have said yes?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.” A soft sob escaped the fabric of his vest.

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

hey! i saw your post on how schlatt has made racist jokes but that doesn’t make him a racist (paraphrasing because i can’t remember the exact wording), and i was just wondering how that worked, like surely if you make, and laugh at, racist jokes you’re probably like a little bit racist to say the least, this is in no way hate, and if i’m wrong i’m totally ready to be educated.

Agh I'm really paying the price for my wording. This and the 'intentional' comment were really dumb moves. I apologise for my shitty wording and I will do better in the future!

Basically the reason I say I believe Schlatt isn't racist is based off of what I know about him outside of his main channel and what his friends say about him/have said about him recently. He could be racist. You could call him racist for the things he's said and the jokes he's made. That's chill with me.

I don't like when people call him racist then start harassing people like me for wanting to wait to see if he can change. I'm being very generous, I know, and it's much harder to stick around waiting if you're a poc/someone who has been hurt by the video/similar past issues.

If someone makes racist jokes, they're probably racist or incredibly uneducated. This, I feel, is a unique situation where the character Schlatt is portraying isn't supposed to be him and doesn't share his beliefs. That distinction is hard to find in jackbox content because it feels less scripted and more just like friends hanging out, but he is still 'acting' for the camera. That doesn't mean what he said or the jokes that were made were okay. They were racist, anti-Semitic, and ableist. He needs to get educated, make an apology, and change his content for the better.

That's what I want. If there's no change or response in two weeks, I'm dropping him, and I'll join others in calling him a racist since it will be obvious at that point that he doesn't care about the voices of poc. These things do take time and we don't know what's happening behind the scenes.

It's totally fine with me if you wanna call him a racist for those jokes. Racism isn't a binary (thanks for educating me, people, I'm dumb!) and those jokes were racist in nature.

I'd suggest listening to some poc on this issue and taking what I've said with a grain of salt. I'm by no means the best person to ask about this!

Thank you for being kind and patient with me... I will try to be better and word things more accurately in the future :)

I'm going to post about the Minx response then I might be done for the day. Who knows. If anyone wants to talk please DM me as I don't like clogging up my feed with this stuff and I'll have to start just blocking people who reblog looking for a fight.

Have a nice day x

[seijorhi]

ask answering :)

So I know I’ve been kind of shit at answering my asks over the past few days, and I’m also nervous about clogging up everybody’s feeds, so have a bunch of general asks under the cut 💕

I could and would happily read an infinite amount of iwa/oikawa soulmate content their dynamic is so interesting not to mention they are both babes and I just love the way you write them

Ahh thank you! Honestly I was never that huge of an Iwa fan until recently, and now he lives rent free in my brain constantly - to the point that whenever I’m writing an Oikawa fic, he almost always finds his way creeping in. I just love their dynamic, and I think in terms of a yandere team up, they’d be terrifying together. You’re definitely gonna see more Iwa/Oikawa stuff, even if it’s not in the soulmate verse

Love your writing so much 🥺💕💖💗👌🏽🔥 every time there’s an update I feel like it’s my birthday

I try to get as much content out as i can for you guys, I’m glad you look forward to it - this is honestly so sweet!! 

Ajagafahshs Home is amazing! You’re a genius in describing the setting and atmosphere. I love how eerie it felt!

I’m still so soft over all the lovely comments for Home. It’s a bit different to my usual yandere fics in terms of tone and everything - and I’m always more nervous posting my own stuff instead of requests because they’re a little more personal, so thank you so much!

Hi hewwo 🖐️ same yandere timeskip Oikawa anon here!! Disappoint?????? Girl never, I'm pretty sure all your other followers can agree but your writing is the bee's knees??? Literal chef's kiss!!!! Just know my heart and wallet are always open if you ever take commissions ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

First of all, you’re legit making me blush and that’s just rude! 

Lmao, obviously kidding, but thank you for being such a sweetheart! As for commissions... we’ll see 👀

I GOT GOOSEBUMPS WHILE READING YOUR NEW SCENARIO. YOU ARE AMAZING

I’m a little surprised that it got such a big reaction? It was supposed to just be a little bit of a drabble for Like Nobody Else because the lovely anon who asked the question kind of got me thinking. It’s not really a ‘sequel’ more just a snippet, but it low key blew up. I shouldn’t be surprised that y’all are as thotty for Iwa and Oikawa as me haha, but I’m glad you liked it, bby!

How did you start getting into yandere?

I honestly could not tell you. I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything but I genuinely do not remember the first ‘yandere’ fic I read or even what fandom it was in. Tbh I think I’ve been into it for a long time, before I even really knew what the term meant, or even that there was a term for it. I’ve just always kind of gravitated towards darker ‘romance’ and that kind possessive, obsessive dynamic. Sorry, I know it’s kind of a non-answer but 🤷🏻‍♀️

Your ideas are not stupid and I'm gonna fight anyone who says so! ❤

Bby, no need to fight anyone, just my big dumb brain. Today has been one of those days - crippling self doubt, writer’s block and anxiety make for a shitty combo, still I know I shouldn’t say stuff like that.

👉🏻👈🏻 just popping by to say I LOVE Mr. Perfect. All your writing is beautiful but oooof Yan!Kuroo just hits different <3

ASDFGHJKL thank you!!! Do I have good news for you! Plenty more yandere Kuroo to come! Mr Perfect is one of my faves - I just wanted to see jealous, manipulative ‘in love with his best friend and manager’ Kuroo go apeshit 😌 

don’t ever apologize for writing what you want instead of requests! I really admire how you take on anon requests and so many of them but you don’t owe writing to anyone. I love your writing and your big brain ideas (and longer fics because I am whore for any and all of your content)!!!

I still want to write requests, but with those requests comes a lot of pressure, not just in how many I have (which is partially my own fault, I get that) but also because even though 99.9% of them are anonymous, the fear that I’m gonna disappoint is always there. Also there’s a lot of characters and situations that I want to write for that I just don’t have requests for - but at the same time I don’t want people who sent stuff in getting mad because they think I’m prioritising my own fics over theirs. I already have people sending in asks hounding me for updates about when I’m gonna answer their specific request which kinda makes me  👉 👈

but NE WAY thanks for the sweet comment 💕

[madmadmilk]

i don’t mean to be rude or mean or annoying but why didn’t you answer my ask? :( it was just a question about star wars.... (not that you owe me or anyone anything)

sorry!!!!!! i miss a lot of things that go on here, and i’m not sure which was yours, so i apologize! but it’s been a while so i’m gonna just highlight a few reason why i don’t get to some asks:

biggest reason: lol i hate replying to stuff on mobile?? idk why but it’s just so hard for me. but then i’m not online with my laptop very often so my time limit of replying to stuff is kinda small

sometimes i just miss the timing to answer stuff. like if i want the moment to pass, i just let it go. i always appreciate the messages! but with timezones and like gaps of attention span, some things just get lost

spoilers. kdasldkfjas i like am glad i’m conscious of spoilers, but i’m also annoyed that i don’t talk about things until they are common knowledge?? like i dont’ wanna ruin the experience for anyone by accident

just plain overwhelmed. i have good online days and bad ones. sometimes i’m like super lonely and want to talk but there’s nothing, and sometimes i just wanna be a fly on the wall and not do much other than like, laugh, and reblog.  again, i’m sooooo beyond thankful for the wonderful people who drop by but sometimes i just don’t have the energy,,, and at times i might just randomly reply to something liek two weeks later. there’s not much rhythm here lol

don’t wanna clog up ur feed. booo i feel like annoying when i answer asks one after another. idk i’m like following lots of active blogs so i don’t see it a lot but i’m just self conscious about how it appear to other people lol. that’s kinda lame tho

repetition. this is like no one fault cos no one else can see what’s in here but me, but sometimes i get messages that say the same thing, so i only reply to one. more often than not, i’ll reply to A User, instead of anon if its’s a duplicate

and those are a few reasons. i’m sorry if yours slip through the cracks! it’s a bit of lottery. i think i’m still around 7,300 messages here so 😗 that’s my bad for not being able to purge it lol

thank you for the messages you guys do send though! i love them, and i read all of them. i just can’t always get to it

[cherishedproperty]

Pillowfort Thoughts

So I’ve been on Pillowfort almost a week. I’ve started a community for D/s writers. I’ve written my own stuff there. I’ve worked to find friends, new and old. And for those of you who are interested, I thought I would collect some thoughts. (Btw, I know this is long, and I would use a “read more” cut but I’m not sure if anyone would be able to see the full post given that I’m marked explicit. So apologies.)

First let me say, Pillowfort is not (nor is it intended to be) a Tumblr substitute. It functions differently. It makes explicit choices about functionality that affect how people interact and the type of culture that develops as a result. It reminds me more of Livejournal than Tumblr, and there are pros and cons to that. So here’s my assessment:

Pillowfort does not allow users to comment when they reblog. You can comment on a post (like a Tumblr reply without a character limit), but it stays with the OP and does not appear on your blog. Pillowfort has made a conscious decision here and does not intend to add reblog comments. 

The pro of this is that you content creators don’t end up with disturbing/unwanted words being attached to their content. I know several people here who have struggled with that. But the flip side is that stolen images will be as prevalent as here (or more) because people will repost the image to be able to append their comment. Another pro is that you don’t end up with a bunch of different posts on the same thing clogging up your feed when a discussion gets active; it all stays in the threaded comments for the post. That part is really nice. Sometimes the same thing shows up on my Tumblr feed like 5 times in a row with different sets of comments and reblogs, and it can be a mess.  

The other cons of this are obvious. When someone scrolls through my blog, they don’t see the thoughtful commentary I’m providing all over the place. It also limits bloggers who primarily create when inspired by others’ posts (like you lovely erotica writers out there). Some people tag reblogs with “commented” or some such. Others will link the OP in a new post, but that fragments the discussion (especially without the ability to @ someone right now). There are other proposals on the table to allow OP to feature comments, but they are unlikely to ever switch to having reblog comments. 

Reblogs always show that you reblogged from the OP. So this doesn’t get content curators or communities any visibility to get followers. A friend just reblogged something from me about Twitter harassment. I only know she reblogged from me because it was right after I posted, and she only follows a few people (there’s no ability to see who likes or reblogs your posts right now). Her reblog shows that she reblogged from OP. So no one is going to know that I was involved at all unless they look at the notes on the post itself. 

There are no asks. And as far as I know, no plans to add that. People say the communities are a good avenue to ask those questions, but I have found asks to be a valuable part of the D/s community. You can direct message and the blogger could choose to put that question and response in a post. But those are really the options. 

When you change the original post, all of the reblogs change. If you delete a post, all the reblogs disappear. As someone who is horrified by typos sometimes after I post, this is super awesome. It has the potential for abuse, if someone changes a post you’ve reblogged and writes some Nazi shit on it that is now on your blog when you never meant it to be. So that’s something to know. 

Pillowfort has communities, and they are great. Communities have discussions and posts. So in my community, I’m putting writing prompts in discussions. People can respond by commenting on the discussion, or they can make a new post and reblog it to the community. Sometimes I got annoyed by the shorter sccwriting prompts that then led to like 75 reblogs of one-sentence comments clogging up my feed. Now that stuff can all go in discussions. Also, any member of the community can reblog their post to the community, rather than mods having to do it like with sccwriting. 

You can toggle off NSFW posts in your feed. As long as people tag posts appropriately. So if you don’t want to see buttholes in your feed at 7am, you can go butthole free for a while. I really, really like this. As long as people actually tag their shit appropriately. Which they don’t. But the community seems good about policing it now. 

There are other features people might like. You can choose who you share posts with—followers, mutuals, or everyone. You can decide whether a post is rebloggable or commentable. It generally gives much more control to content creators, which is nice. 

There are other features people might miss. There’s no overall activity feed right now. I don’t know who reblogs from me or likes my posts. I can see this on each individual post for my original posts, but it’s not gathered in one place, and I have zero visibility into who reblogs something I reblogged. 

Pillowfort is in closed beta right now, meaning they allow joining by registration key only, which in the past has happened with a $5 donation. They’ve currently suspended that process so the platform can catch up and absorb all the new users. But if you are interested, you can log in as a demo user and go through the full site (and even find me and the new community). You can also get on a waiting list to be notified when they open it up again. 

For now, I’m sticking around there and trying to see if the platform can work for me. But I’m also still open to new options and will keep you all posted on those as they arise. Feel free to reach out with questions about the platform if you have any. Happy to answer them.

[friendlylocalwhumper]

This is a continuation of this drabble. Anders is @whump-sprite ‘s oc.

He’s got his cell phone on him, still. He could call someone for help.

It feels odd to call someone on a phone, when he looks like death, feels like death, is stumbling down a back road and sliding down the graffitied wall behind some building. Lux chuckles disjointedly. It just brings up more blood to choke on.

Dusty, shaking fingers are shoved into his pocket. He has to slide down against the wall to reach in and pull it out. Unlocks the phone, goes to his contacts.

There’s only one person he’d call.

The phone rings as he holds it up - he can’t hold his arm up like this, he needs to lie down. He just needs to... Lux slides down until one shoulder’s on the ground. There are weeds peeking out of the cracked pavement, a dandelion with scraggly leaves, and it makes it just a little more comfortable. He mumbles an apology and a thanks to the plants, because his mom taught him to love nature, and if he’s smushing these living things just trying to live, the least he can say is sorry.

Oh. He forgot about the phone. Did the person on the other end of it pick up?

“A-An-...” Lux gives a single stifled cough, pulling the phone away, then back again. “Anders?”

There’s no response. Maybe he’s angry. Lux doesn’t know why he thinks that, but it rings true in his foggy mind. His breaths are low and rapsy, clogged with dust and blood. It’s funny, that what’s mashed him up inside wasn’t the collapsed building, but his own magic.

He forgot the phone again.

“Anders... sorry. I’m. Mmmh, I’m nnnnnot d-doin’ so good...” Stupid, he’ll worry now. The phone beeps. Lux moves it away to look at it. That was it, that was the message he left? That’s what Anders is going to hear? When Lux’s body is found, that’s what he’ll remember, nothing good. Just the dying mumbles of some kid he couldn’t save.

When Anders joins him in heaven, Lux is gonna say he’s sorry he did that.

The phone taps against the ground when it slips from his fingers. He doesn’t want his chest to spasm and try to bring up his insides anymore. Lux drags his legs up and in slow, stopping when he’s slightly more curled up. The pain in his core won’t allow more than that. One hand stays by the phone, fingers curled lightly next to it. Just in case Anders calls back. His other arm tries to wrap around his middle.

At least he’s outside. At least, like he’d hoped, that building collapsing only killed one person. At least he knows he did his best. Anders would be proud of him.

The newscaster is somber and well-spoken, not visibly alarmed at the notice that a building has just collapsed in their city.

Part of that building, Anders notices in the shaky iPhone recording of the near-tragedy, stays conveniently intact long enough for everyone to make it out. Not one body has been found yet, no mothers crying over mangled corpses, no men screaming for loved ones they can’t find. The street seems eerily silent, on the live feed of sirens and official vehicles, none of the ambulances in use.

Magic. It’s the only way any of that shit happened. Someone used their magic, in public, to save all those lives. They were seen, and they’ve got to be thoroughly fucked from holding up a building. Might be a mess of blood and body parts under all that rubble. If they made it out, though, they need help.

Anders is no angel, but he’ll do as a last resort for someone dying on the street.

He sets out, driving til he’s a block away from the site and searching, looking for anyone hunched over in an alley. What he does find, is a subtle trail of blood that’s noticeable once he finds a small puddle of the stuff on the sidewalk.

Yeah, chances that he’ll find a body are growing.

He spots a thin, bloody smudge on the old white walls of a shut-down shop, so he walks down the small road alongside the building. Turns the corner, thinking about the gun in his jacket pocket.

A body, looks like.

Two seconds, trying to determine if the poor guy’s dead, before he stops breathing. Sees the dust-coated curly black hair, the slender hands, the blue top (because that’s his favorite color), the sneakers with double-knotted laces.

He’s on his knees, now, beside Lux. He grabs an arm, not caring that it would usually make Lux flinch, looking for a pulse.

“Wha-” Lux mutters, eyes opening. “...Oh. Hey.” Too tired to flinch, just watching Anders drop his grip and breathe.

“Christ, Lux, I thought you were dead.”

“Mmm, not yet.” The younger warlock’s eyes wander to the phone on the ground beside him. “Did you... get my message?”

Anders is far more interested in checking Lux over for injuries, but he sees none. Just blood on Lux’s chin from when he was upright, and a streak of it from the corner of his mouth across his cheek from lying down. “How hurt are you? Can you heal yourself?”

“...Called you,” Lux continues, dismissing the questions. His knuckle brushes against the edge of his phone.

Anders didn’t pick up. Fuck. “How bad is it?” He asks, instead of thinking about that. Thinking about if there’s a message on his phone with Lux begging for him to come before it was too late.

“‘s bad.” He doesn’t want to think about it. He’s not stuttering, or flinching, and he likes to think that’s a good thing. “Used, more’n I had. But, they all made it.” Lux cracks a bit of a grin at that, waiting to see if Anders is proud of him.

“No. Stop with the relaxed shit, come on, you’re getting up. We’re going to fix you up.”

Lux’s smile drops. “Don’t wanna move.” He likes it here. It’s kind of quiet. “Anders, you’re gonna...” His arm is pulled up over his friend’s shoulder, and yes, he’s being pulled up onto his feet. “Gaahhh, you’re, gonna make me move, huh.”

“Let’s get you safe and in bed, and then you can whine at me all about it.”

Lux whines in answer, the sound building up until he coughs, body trying to hack out the blood that he wishes would just stay inside him. “Nnnh, tha-anks, for finding me, Anders -” He hurts and doesn’t want to move, he wants to stop and lie down right now, but he wouldn’t ask for that. That’s asking to die, at this point.

Anders is half-dragging him along right now, but Lux is trying to walk, so he doesn’t put too much strain on Anders’ leg. He doesn’t want Anders to be angry and in pain over coming to get him.

When he can feel the world spinning and crashing around him, Lux holds tighter onto Anders, and mumbles, “A-Anders, gonna... gonna...” And, with those useless mutterings, he loses consciousness.

[ciaossu-imagines]

I’m not sure if anyone cares but

Have an update full of feelings anyways! As I’m sure most of the (few) people still reading this blog know, one of my last posts involved me becoming rather angry and going off on you guys as a collective audience. Was that wrong of me? A little, yes - I shouldn’t have gone off on everyone when the majority of you weren’t the issue (or not a part of that issue). Am I sorry I did it? No, not really. I’m not sorry I got angry and I won’t apologize for feeling the way I did. While it might have seemed petty and out of the blue to the most of you, but that’s only because you guys don’t see the day to day and all the buildup that got me to that point. And it wasn’t just people sending in asks when they shouldn’t - that was more the tipping point, the last jenga block pulled out that caused it all to topple. I’ll get the important update out of the way first so anyone who doesn’t want to read my blatherings (which I’ll hide under the cut just to make doubly sure that nobody who doesn’t want to hears them) can just stop after that.

I’ll be gone until January, when I’ll come back to write the forty remaining posts in the draft folder, and the ten in the inbox. After that, I’m not sure if I’ll be continuing on with Ciaossu-Imagines.

Let me start by making it perfectly clear here that I love writing for KHR. I have so much love for KHR and its characters. Writing them feels natural to me, almost second-nature and these characters, this story still makes me happy, even if it ended years ago. 

But writing for this blog - it doesn’t make me happy anymore. It feels less and less like something fun I do to be a part of fandom and more and more like a job. An unpaid, thankless job with a bunch of the shittiest bosses, to be completely honest. Harsh? Yes, but that’s how I feel and I can’t lie about it anymore. 

I feel like I do so much work on here for nothing, for the illusion that I’m a part of this fandom when honestly, I’m not. I have maybe one or two friends I’ve met through this blog who talk to me about KHR (and then, even that happens rarely) but for the most part, I don’t even feel like a part of the fandom. I have nobody to rant and rave about the characters or storylines with, to talk about things that infuriated us about KHR and the things we loved. I know it’s a dead fandom but it’s not so dead that there’s not still fans who talk to each other about it. I know, I’ve seen people still doing it. As for those who argue that maybe I should just jump into those discussions, I answer 1) and interrupt a conversation? Didn’t your momma ever teach you manners? and 2) I’m horribly shy and have severe anxiety in social situations, even those online. To those who argue that I might have more people talking to me if I actually answered messages back quicker, I say 1) I have a life outside the internet and limited time on here, most of which I use desperately trying to get enough writing done to feel like I’m keeping up with my blog and 2) again, severe social anxiety; if anyone knew how long I spend rewriting messages in a desperate bid to avoid my online buddies figuring out that I’m kind of a loser and deciding not to talk to me anymore, they would laugh.

I feel like I’m just barely keeping my head above water with this blog, like it’s eating up so much of my time and energy and leaving me drained, with nothing in return. Yes, you guys might not get why I feel that way but that’s because you guys don’t see the messages or asks I get asking if I have this or that ask because it’s been a while and it hasn’t been answered or asking if I’m still active. For the most part, I delete those because it’s easier and I like to hope that an out of sight, out of mind approach will help me ignore them. I delete them so as not to clog dashes with inane content. I really only start answering them when it’s gotten to such a point that I’m feeling fed up and want to kind of bitch about it publicly, in as nice a way as I can. I understand that you’ve sent in a request and you want to read it as soon as possible, that you’re excited and hey, I’m glad you’re excited to read what I write. It’s not so great, my writing, so yes, I’m excited that you’re happy to read it. What I’m not excited about is how much pressure these messages put on me, how rushed I feel all the time in regards to this blog lately. I honestly don’t think people think about the fact that I’m a person, a human being on the other side of this screen. I work five days a week, long exhausting retail shifts, especially now around Christmas. I have chores and errands to do. I have to feed myself, bathe myself, and I have other hobbies and interests. Or I did. It’s gotten to the point where I feel guilty if I want to sit down and watch a television show because oh, there’s still all those asks and just a couple days ago someone was asking for this one or that one, I should be writing instead. I used to love writing fanfiction for other fandoms, even though I never published them anywhere. Now I feel horrible if I even think about writing fanfiction because if I have time to do that, I should be working on writing posts. So I just don’t do any of that stuff anymore. Instead, if I have free time, I get on the computer, open up my draft folder and start trying to squeeze out anything. 

And I do this for what? For a handful of likes? There’s only one or two people who reblog and even then, it’s very rare. Yes, I know this fandom isn’t very big but that’s no excuse! Are you afraid the words will ruin your beautiful blog if you reblog? Is it just not good enough - it’s good enough for you to like it but not publicly? I do this for what? For people to send in asks that read more like demands than requests, most without a single please or thank you, like I’m just a machine that you plug in a command and I spit out a story? For people to send in requests that clearly show that they haven’t bothered taking a single second to go up to the little search symbol and type in rules because I’m obviously not worth the iota of respect it takes for them to figure out what I write and don’t write? I’m not saying that I want you all to bow down and worship me, to always send in lavish praise or shit like that. I’m just asking for basic human decency and a little appreciation. And for those fucktards who always end up combating these sorts of questions from writers with ‘oh, but you’re supposed to be doing this for the love of writing like a real writer does’, I combat you with a giant fuck you. There’s no ‘real writers’ for one thing. Every writer is different and honestly, if I was writing for the pure love of writing, I wouldn’t be running an imagines blog. No writer running an imagines blog is doing it for the pure love of writing - we do it because we like writing yes, but also because we love sharing it with the fandoms we love, because we like seeing people enjoy what we do, what we write. And honestly, other than a few people (Martha, Chiwa, kbr, Tati - here’s looking at you), I never get the latter part of that anymore. 

I guess that’s it? That’s the end of the rant. All that to say that I feel like I’m drowning running this blog and I’ll be taking time off to get my head together before coming back to write. I’m not sure what the future is going to hold for this blog - I need time to think. But no matter what the future holds, I will say thank you to all those for the two years I’ve had for sure on here - there were precious moments and great happiness and for that I am glad.

[bakuthedeku]

BakuDeku Month Of Wonder

Day 30: My Hero Has Always Been: 

You.

@month-of-wonder

Splash.

Katsuki falls from the log into the water, sitting back up immediately and waving off his followers’ concern. It was a little scary, but he’s okay. Under the harsh sun, the water is nice and cool on his skin, though it makes his clothes stick to him in a real yucky way.

Then, Deku is there, standing in the water before him and offering a hand. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Katsuki is suddenly a lot less fine.

Deku, the useless, bad at everything nerd, the quirkless wonder is asking if he’s okay? Katsuki is amazing, and he’s clearly fine. The quirkless loser is looking down on him, isn’t he.

Glaring hotly at the shorter boy, he smacks the hand aside and stands. Pushes Deku over into the water, and climbs out by himself.

Katsuki doesn’t need anyone’s help- least of all Deku’s.

/-/

The sound of flesh colliding with flesh sounds through the air like a gunshot to little Izuku’s ears.

His muscles tense in fear, heart racing with the overwhelming uselessness and terror that drench him.

Seconds later, Kacchan wipes drops of blood - blood! - away from his mouth and scowls at his assailant, shoulders pushed back and confident.

Kacchan is in a fight with kids three whole years older than them, and he isn’t even scared! Kacchan is awesome, but- it looks like he needs help now. Izuku’s heart clenches with worry, concern, and many other feelings his young mind can’t yet put name to.

Before he can move between Kacchan and the older bullies, though, an explosion sounds. Smoke fills the air, hiding the older kids from sight as Kacchan stands proudly at it, a confident smirk on his face.

“Guess ya can’t handle the heat, you stupid weak cowards?” Kacchan has the courage to provoke the mean, older kids, yet they don’t retaliate. The smoke clears, the tallest one (the ‘leader’, kinda like Kacchan but way way less cool) is almost in tears, and the group quickly runs off, yelling very vulgar stuff to Kacchan about him just being ‘a little bitch of a girl’.

Kacchan does a thumbs down, hands smoking, but he doesn’t chase after the ‘cowards’. “Fuck you, say that again ‘n I’ll teach ya a real lesson!”

Kacchan said a bad word, Izuku thinks to himself.

Then, That was so amazing!

Their friends (actually, Kacchan’s friends, since the other kids say they can’t be friends with a deku) come out from where they’d been hiding, somewhere way behind Izuku. Izuku was the only one who stayed with Kacchan, when the other kids first started being mean. Still, Kacchan’s friends heap on the praises, calling Kacchan super cool and strong for scaring off the bullies and complimenting his quirk.

Kacchan puffs up his chest and grins, wiping drops of tears from his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m the best! I’m gonna be a hero one day, and then people will never be mean to me again, ‘cause I’m never gonna lose!”

Izuku, young as he is, knows with certainty that what Kacchan is saying is true.

After all, Kacchan is already a hero to him.

/-/

I’m going to die, Katsuki thinks.

I’m going to die!

Katsuki doesn’t want to die.

Not like this.

Not because he’s so weak.

Not before he can become the top hero like he’s meant to be.

Not with Deku looking at him with those damn eyes.

For a split second, Katsuki thinks he’s already dead- in hell for his sins. Or maybe he’s hallucinating, his brain finally broken form the lack of oxygen and the strain of quirk exhaustion.

Katsuki’s ears, just like almost every other orifice on his body, are clogged by rank sludge. He can hear nothing, he can feel sickly constriction, burning lungs, all consuming desperation and fear because he needs help and the heroes are just standing there.

But not Deku. Deku isn’t a hallucination as he’d thought (feared) (hoped), but is real, and sprinting with all his might towards Katsuki and the villain and the cage fire enclosing them.

Deku’s lips, he distantly realises, move as if he’s talking.

The familiar movement needs no noise for Katsuki to decipher.

“Kacchan.”

And then the villain jolts, and Katsuki can breathe, but suddenly the only thing he cares about is finding out why the fuck Deku is here, why the fuck he’s saving him, why the fuck he’s putting himself in danger so needlessly?

He gets some of those questioned answered once it’s over. He’s dissatisfied to say the least by what he hears. He leaves Deku, frustrated, mortified, ashamed.

Deku played hero, almost got himself killed, showed the world his true goodness, and got chewed out for it while Katsuki got praised by heroes for being so weak.

Today, Deku saved Katsuki.

Katsuki half walks, half limps back home, heart in throat and chest in flames.

/-/

Kacchan has always been in front of him, always so bright and amazing. Kacchan saves him, pushes him to go beyond his limits, feeds the fire of Izuku’s determination in a way unlike anyone else.

Kacchan, despite the bad he’s done, despite the apologies unsaid and the wounds unhealed, is good.

So utterly, unquestionably good.

Izuku’s arms throb with his nearly but not quite healed injuries as he holds Kirishima’s arm firmly. He has devised the most sound plan for retrieval, they’re ready to shoot to the sky and offer Katsuki a hand. All Izuku can do is assure the highest possible chance of success and try.

Failure doesn’t matter to him.

Izuku sure as hell isn’t giving up on his Kacchan.

He’s getting him back.

Izuku can not breath until he does.

/-/

He’s still looking down on me!

He’s trying to help me, (useless weak better than him) after everything.

How fucking dare he!

Why am I so weak!

Katsuki’s heart erupts. “Why did I become the reason for All Might’s end?”

Finally, Deku attacks him like he sees him, knocks him damn near on his ass and makes his face throb with a wicked fast kick.

About time.

Deku takes his feelings and returns them with his own, and Katsuki is raw and open and vulnerable.

For once, he believes maybe that’s okay.

/-/

Katsuki wakes up groggy, high off his meds, and with his chest feeling weird and tightly constricted. He feels like he’s floating, despite the pain he ought to be in right now.

Deku is by the bedside, one hand typing on his phone and the other clasping one of Katsuki’s.

As the nerd notices Katsuki’s state of (semi) consciousness, he turns his attention to Katsuki and smiles, warm and loving.

“Hey Kacchan.”

“Hey..nerd. I feel kinda shit,” Katsuki says.

“Mm. Nothing unexpected there,” Deku agrees softly.

Moments of silence, as Katsuki drowns in jade eyes, unable to resist their pull.

Deku squeezes his hand. “Congratulations.”

Katsuki tears up, fights against the drugs in his system to push back his urge to collapse into a tear soaked puddle right here and now.

He’d been anxious as all hell in the days leading up to this, busying himself with overtime and paperwork and cuddling with Deku when they were both free at home. And now, the wait is done, and he’s.

He!

He finally got top surgery.

And really, it didn’t sink in as reality ‘till now, with his chest wrapped tight and medication heavy on his eyes and fuzzy in his brain.

Holy fuck.

It’s actually pretty wonderful.

Deku carefully places his phone down and leans forward, brushing kisses along Katsuki’s knuckles and down to the first knuckle of his fingers.

“You can cry if you want to, Kacchan.”

Fuckity fuck fuck, crying isn’t weak, Katsuki knows that in his heart. But Katsuki doesn’t cry!

Come on tear ducts, just listen to him, damn it. This isn’t the time to betray him!

Unable to trust himself to not break into tears if he speaks, he just shakes his head no.

“Okay, I won’t force you. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I forced you to cry right after you woke up after top surgery?”

Exactly the same kind of perfect, shit eating boyfriend you’re being right now, you big fuckin’ bully, Katsuki thinks.

What he says is, “I love you.”

And what he does is burst into tears and pull Deku half onto the bed so he can just hug the man already.

/-/

All Might is dead, and the world is devastated.

Izuku is devastated, too.

The old Class 3A come together to support each other, all heartbroken.

The death was expected, but no less terrible in its realisation.

Kacchan forces Izuku to eat when Izuku doesn’t feel like it, and Izuku gives Kacchan massages when he’s especially sore and tense.

He holds Kacchan tight at night as they cry.

They mourn together, holding one another up to allow themselves to stand.

/-/

Their fame and success is not unexpected, but still jarring.

For one, their faces, their hero personas, their costumes; they’re everywhere. Children walk to school decked out in their merchandise, their faces appear on advertisement for charity campaigns and events for just causes, their hero names flash daily on the news with reports of their latest work, their hero team ups, their newest interviews.

It’s hectic, and overwhelming.

What really gets to Izuku is when he and Kacchan visit a school.

The class is composed of young children just beyond the age of quirk manifestation, bright eyed and dressed colourfully and so, so excited to see their heroes in the flesh.

They talk to the kids, and the kids ask them questions.

One takes them by surprise.

“Who’s your favourite hero?”

Deku answers first. “All Might!”

It’s still hard sometimes, but over time they’ve learnt to cope with the loss of their father figure.

Katsuki takes his chance to answer,completely sincere. “I have two,” he holds up two fingers, “All Might and..” Katsuki draws it out, amused by the puzzled, but attentive look of Deku’s face. “Deku.”

The class cheers and agrees with his choice, a few kids saying that Kacchan is their favourite, too!

Deku, meanwhile, blushes so hard Katsuki fears he may spontaneously combust.

Deku kisses him, gross and emotional and sappy, the second they leave the classroom.

/-/

“Kacchan, switch out!”

“On it!”

Izuku backs off and allows for Kacchan to swoop in, a blaze of determination and courage burning at his heels.

He takes on the villain front on and engages them wholly, trading blows and assaulting them with finely tuned storm of explosions.

Izuku goes around the back, and the villain’s enhanced reaction time proves too slow for the hero Deku as he soundly lands the finishing blow, knocking them unconscious.

A high five is shared between the duo, and Kacchan grins.

“Thanks Deku. You’re my hero,” he teases.

Izuku pokes his tongue out at Kacchan, even as he gets to work restraining the villain and inhibiting the quirk.

“Why thank you Kacchan,” Izuku throws the villain over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes. “Can’t wait to get all the credit for this takedown.”

“Oi-!”

/-/

“..you’re my heart, Izuku. You’re going to make such waves in the world, and I can’t fucking wait to be there with you through it all.”

Shit, no crying.

(They’re both near tears, right now. Half the room is. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.)

“Katsuki. We’ve been together our entire lives, and I wouldn’t change a second of it. I would relive it all in a heartbeat- the good times and the bad alike- so long as it meant I could get right back here, by your side. I’ve been so lucky to have had the pleasure of being here with you for so long, through innumerable ups and downs, to see you become the amazing man you are today. I couldn’t be more proud of you. We have laughed together and cried together, and I plan to keep laughing and crying excessively with you for the rest of my life.”

A pause, to blink away his tears. It’s a miracle he isn’t sobbing already.

“We stand here together, both heroes, but for me.. My hero has always been you. I love you with all of my heart, Bakugou Katsuki.” A shaky laugh, of sunrises, spring winds and chiming bells. “I’ve never been more ready to kiss you.”

So at the celebrant’s prompt, they come together.

Before their loved ones, with hearts lit by euphoria, Katsuki and Izuku kiss.

Not their first, nor their last, yet monumental all the same.

“I love you, Kacchan.”

“I love you too, Deku.”

[sweetnestor]

Story of Another Us | Week 11

university au, platonic af, now on ao3!

previous chapter | masterlist | playlist

My heart is here, it’s such a cause

I didn’t expect a phone call, text message, or any interaction from Mark. I probably should have been the one to go to him. Apologize for being stupid and getting too close to his friend. However, given from the silence between us since that night, I figured that he wanted me to stay away. I wasn’t even sure if I could still call him my boyfriend, and that terrified me. I desperately wanted to talk to him, but he was angry with me and I couldn’t really blame him.

This silence only forced me and Jack to carry on as usual. We went to class together that morning, earlier than usual since we decided it was best not to go back to Mark’s while he was in this mood. This left me with no time to dress presentably or do any makeup, and Jack had to call his girlfriend and rely on her to get his videos uploaded. Not to mention, the car ride from my apartment all the way to YTU was much longer than if we had gone from Mark’s house.

Speaking of YTU, campus was even more empty these days. There were only about six weeks left in the semester. Six weeks until the place closed down for good. There was really no point in coming anymore, according to the students who lived in the area. I, on the other hand, needed to get my money’s worth from these fucking classes, and so did Jack.

“You feel like meeting people?” he asked, pointing out the small group of people standing around the entrance to the main parking lot.

The one day I didn’t put on makeup. I drove past the group and parked somewhat far from the main office. I thought about it as we got out of the car, but I didn’t have much choice. The group had followed my car to where we parked.

Technically, we weren’t supposed to meet fans here, but Jack was more than happy to break the rules since “there’s no one here to tell us we can’t!” Plus, campus was closing down anyway, so fuck it.

“You’re Bella Santiago, right?” one girl asked me, which was surprising. I thought they were here for Jack. “Can I get a selfie? I really love your videos!”

It happened very quickly. I smiled for the picture, the girl thanked me and went to get a picture with Jack. Another person came up to me, smiling wide.

“Your anxiety video made me cry! It was so touching!” she told me.

“Aw, thank you!” I replied, instantly a lot happier. “That means a lot!”

A sudden wave of praise came from the group, all of them saying that the video was really good. It made me feel warm and pleasant. So maybe I wasn’t so depressing after all. I was expecting to be brushed off, especially since most of the group seemed to know Jack. But they were all really kind.

However, it didn’t last long. A campus security guard whisked us away, and practically yelled at the group to get off property. Jack and I pretty much had no choice but to follow him inside the main office.

“You guys are not allowed to interact with fans, you know that, right?” he told us sternly. “You’re only going to attract more people here.”

“Well, it’s not like we asked them to come over here,” I said back. “The place is closing anyway, why does it matter?”

Jack gave me an incredulous look as we walked through the main office. It wasn’t exactly typical of me to talk back, and he had never seen me be this way before.

“I’m just doing my job, Miss,” the guard told me before walking off.

I rolled my eyes and went out to the courtyard. That’s when Jack finally spoke.

“I’ve never heard you talk like that before,” he said. “You sounded really… ballsy.”

I chuckled. “I guess when it comes to the people who watch my videos, I take no shit.”

“That’s good. Really bold of you.”

It wasn’t until we got to class that we both tweeted out apologies to the people we met in the parking lot. I had to refrain from ranting publicly. Instead, I focused on what it was like to meet those people. In my time of have a sizeable following, I was noticed seldomly. It wasn’t until I was associated with Mark did it start happening more. You would think being approached by random people would make my anxiety spike…

Instead, it just made me tired and irritable. By the time we got home from class, I was looking forward to a ten year nap. Jack was still peppy and perky and talking off my last nerves. However, being the avoidant little shit I was, I just let him be. Listening to him also meant I could avoid checking my phone for any interaction from Mark. I really didn’t want to be the one to start that conversation.

“So, are we going to record today?” That was the only thing I caught from his long ramble.

I thought about it. “Are you up for it?”

“Yeah!”

We were supposed to make a video for my channel today. I had to do that today. Despite everything, this had to be done. I couldn’t be a stick in the mud.

“Okay,” I said, my eyes trailing up to Jack’s hair. “How overdue are you for dying your hair?”

He ran his fingers through the faded green locks in thought. I could see his brown roots peeking out and I almost audibly gasped. I had to get my hands on them.

“You wanna do that for a video?” he asked.

“Is it a bad idea? We could do something else…”

“No, no it’s your channel, you hold all the cards here.”

~

“Hey guys, it’s Bella!” I greeted happily to the camera set up in the living room. “Today I’m here with my friend Jack, and I’m gonna dye his hair and bleach his roots.”

Jack was sitting in a chair in front of me, a towel over himself. His hair was slightly all over the place, given that I was touching it and messing with it earlier to see what exactly I needed to do for this look. He was pretty pleased about this, given that I wasn’t going to charge him for doing this for him. He needed a new coat of green hair, and I needed a new video to post. It’s a win-win.

“So, this is partly a tutorial and partly two friends hanging out,” I explained.

“Twice the fun,” Jack said in a mock happy tone.

“Let’s get started!”

I mixed the bleach in a plastic bowl with a brush and explained how to do so before applying it to Jack’s roots. I also read off the box just to make sure I wasn’t doing anything wrong. “‘Do not use if you are not a licensed cosmetologist.’ Oops!”

“You’re not licensed?” Jack asked in mock surprised. “You’re a fraud!”

“Whoops, you caught me!”

“No, but really, didn’t you go to beauty school?”

“I did, but I never finished it because of YTU. So technically, I shouldn’t be allowed near these products.”

I continued applying the bleach, surprisingly at ease. Hair knowledge was right underneath my makeup knowledge, and it was fun getting my hands on some hair again. Although, since it was only the top of Jack’s head that needed the fix, the first step was done a lot quicker than expected.

“Somehow I forgot that you don’t have that much hair to bleach and dye,” I pointed out. “How much time do you usually spend in a salon?”

“Oh god, like two hours,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “It takes forever!”

“Dude, my hair takes at least four or five hours,” I told him, pointing to my long, black and pink ombre. “You’re lucky!”

“How can you be so patient? I go crazy just sitting in the chair!”

“It’s fun for me.” I smiled.

The next step after washing off the bleach was the color. I chose a vibrant green that wasn’t too off from previous shades that Jack has had before. For me, this was the easiest part.

“With bleach, you have to be careful not to leave it on for too long,” I explained, “especially with darker hair because it’s very easy to damage it a lot. So you have to constantly keep an eye on it and see how quickly the hair catches onto it. With the actual color, you just have to apply it and wait it out. Usually the formula will have some type of vitamins and stuff that’s good for the hair. But it’s still a good idea to get some hydrating conditioners and other hair products on the side.”

“See, I wish my hairdresser in Ireland had told me this,” Jack said. “Everything makes a lot more sense now!”

Once we finished and cleaned everything up, Jack had wonderful, bright green hair. I was relieved I hadn’t lost my hair styling skills over time. As soon as the camera turned off, I pretty much hid away in my bedroom, the depression returning. I crawled into bed and sighed in relief. I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread and gloominess for some reason. It was like I drained the last of my energy in that video.

I scrolled on my phone, looking at the pictures that were posted from the impromptu meetup earlier. I looked awful without my makeup. How could people see me as a beauty guru? How could I go outside looking like that?

So much for finding comfort on Twitter… I went to Tumblr instead, and I had to resist making a long, rambly post. Then I realized that no one would want to see a wall of text clog up their dash. I just looked at my feed, reblogging pictures of makeup I already owned, liking posts people mentioned me in. There were cute edits and gifsets of me and Mark, which only made my heart ache.

I wasn’t sure why I got so angry with him. Maybe I did get too close to Jack. Maybe I had done things that gave off the wrong idea. Or maybe I just wasn’t attracted to Mark and that’s why I didn’t want to get into bed with him. Maybe I was just faking my anxiety this whole time.

~

It felt like time was going slow, or not moving at all. I wasn’t sure if I had fallen asleep or gotten up at all. I could only tell time by the sound of Jack’s voice outside my door. He was recording his own videos and acting like everything was okay. I wish I knew how to act like that off camera.

I started feeling restless and antsy when his voice finally stopped. A constant background noise was something I needed, otherwise I’d go crazy. I rolled onto my side, listening for any kind of sound to break the silence. No footsteps, movements, or anything from the TV did that. It was like Jack had disappeared. Wouldn’t blame him.

Honestly, though, I still didn’t want to interact with anyone. I just liked hearing someone else in the apartment. I went to take a shower. Any sound from there would block out the ongoing gloom in my head.

I pretty much just sat there. Actual hygiene wasn’t important to me at the moment. The water was hitting my scalp and, while it was deteriorating the black and pink dye in my hair, it felt good. It gave me a sense of feeling again. Like a breath of fresh air, except it was water. I coughed and choked. It was better than not feeling anything.

When I was out of the shower and getting dressed, I heard noise within the apartment. I heard voices. Angry voices. Maybe I really did go crazy. Although, the mere thought did make me leave my room to actually make sure that wasn’t true.

I found Jack and Mark standing in the living room. They went quiet as soon as I showed up. The air was tense, making my stomach flip over. To be honest, I didn’t expect Mark to show up so soon.

“You still let him stay here?” he asked me in disbelief.

Yes I did, and I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me. I’m so sorry for being a terrible girlfriend, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…

Those words were rising up my throat, ready to be puked out. I was fighting with myself not to speak those words. I couldn’t apologize for letting my friend live here.

“It was me,” Jack spoke up. “I asked if I could still stay here. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how bad the situation was.”

“You’re telling me,” Mark began, not sounding any less angry, “that even after I told you how uncomfortable I was with you living with my girlfriend, you still had the nerve to ask her if you could still keep living here?”

Jack gulped, clearly intimidated. “Yes.”

“What kind of friend are you?”

“Oh my god!” I snapped, my body trembling with nerves. I couldn’t control my mouth. “You’re the one who made him stay here in the first place! You’re the one who pushed us to be friends! You’re the one who felt enough pity for me to fly your friend out here and talk to me because I can’t do that on my own! ¿Y sabes que? You don’t get to be angry that Jack and I are friends now! You don’t get to be angry because he’s here for me more than you are, that’s on you! So don’t come crying over here quejando y quejando because you’re the one who made all this happen in the first place!”

I was breathing heavily and my chest was hurting. Mark and Jack had their mouths open in shock. When have they ever heard me speak this way? I didn’t think I could speak this way either.

Thankfully, the silence didn’t last long. Mark sighed and nodded to my open bedroom door. “Room.”

Still fuming, I turned on my heel and went to my room, Mark quickly following my trail. Before I shut the door, I saw Jack quickly scurry over to his room to hide. Lucky him, he gets to sit this one out.

“What do you mean he’s here for you more?” Mark asked, breathing like he was trying to keep himself steady. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly that, you’re never here,” I told him. “And you asked Jack to move here, without so much as giving me a heads up!”

“I didn’t ask him, I told him that you had an extra room, and you were happy to let him stay!” Mark justified.

“Because you put me on the spot! That doesn’t matter now anyway, I’m actually glad he’s my roommate, because as I said, he’s my friend and he’s there for me!”

“Stop saying that!” Mark nearly yelled, making me flinch. However, he took a step back and lowered his tone. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve been neglecting you. I have been busy, I’ve been going to meetings and making videos, and this tour thing. I do all of this while you’re on campus, and I try to get things done, I do. Aside from that, I’ve got Matt and Ryan, and it’s like I’m raising kids! I’m not trying to use that as an excuse either, but I am sorry I can’t always be here. It’s not fair to you.”

Time management was something we had established when we first started dating. For some reason, I didn’t think it was going to be this hard. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything at all. This was all part of the vlogger dating experience, after all.

“So you’re not avoiding me?” I asked.

“Of course not.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were, I know I’m a handful.”

“Don’t say that, Bella. I know things are hard right now, but I will make a better effort to be with you.”

I paced around the room to avoid looking at him. “Okay… so, what about Jack?”

Mark shrugged. “What about him?”

“Am I not allowed to be friends with him anymore? He’s the only friend I’ve got.” I hated saying that, it just emphasized my patheticness.

It felt worse when Mark hesitated. “I don’t know. Do you really not have anyone else?”

“No…” I said softly. “No, and it sucks. I only have you and him, two whole people. And I know I should try to talk to more people, but god you have no idea how hard it is!”

“I know. You deserve to have friends, even if it’s only one or two. I’m sorry I made a big deal out of you and Jack. I just want you to trust me,” Mark confessed. “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for you, and I’m sorry if I made it harder. Just know that I am here for you, whenever you need me. I promise.”

That’s a big word that adds more pressure. But who was I to deny him? Words could only do so much, but god I couldn’t go down to have only one friend. Especially if that friend wasn’t going to stay here permanently.

“Okay,” I said. “Fine…”

“Okay.” Mark sighed.

Don’t lose this one. He’s all you’ve got. You lose him, you lose everything...

_______

next chapter

[a-virtuous-pyromaniac]

Hey! I done wrote a fanfic!

Title says it all. This is posted on ff.net and AO3. I call it “Monte Cassino” 

Medic lay in bed, glazed with fever. Sweaty, exhausted, joints and head aching. Vomiting whenever he ate something harsher than rice or applesauce. Breathing through his mouth because his sinuses were completely clogged. For the past two days, he’d barely left his bed, only managing to stagger to the bathroom and back.

If only Heavy would take care of him. Heavy knew was Medic needed when he was sick. He’d run a tepid bath for the doctor, carry him to the tub and back. Afterwards, he’d make him a cup of strong ginger tea and stay by the bed until Medic fell asleep. Heavy, tea, and cool bath. Was it too much to ask that? They were such simple comforts. Medic sighed. Simplicity couldn’t make things happen. And simplicity couldn’t change the fact that Heavy lay on the other side of Medic’s bed, even sicker than the doctor.

Heavy was sleeping now, sweet relief after several hours’ headaches and intermittent vomiting. Even asleep, he didn’t seem any less exhausted. The dark bags hadn’t faded from his eyes. His stubble-covered cheeks broadcasted that he was too sick to care for himself; Heavy would have never wanted to look so unprofessional and un-groomed. Gently, Medic slipped a hand into one of his lover’s enormous paws. He stroked the palm with his thumb, as if it would somehow help someone. He wanted to comfort Heavy as badly as he wanted Heavy to comfort him. Make him tea, that tannic Russian stuff that was meant to be served in a samovar. Fluff his pillows and keep the sheets fresh and clean. Mop his face with a cool rag, and cuddle him, contagion be damned. But, in the end, it didn’t matter what anyone wanted. This flu wasn’t going away anytime soon. The medigun was useless against it. Respawn would only prolong it.

Faintly, Medic heard the sound of someone retching, followed by a familiar wet splatter. It was coming from the infirmary, so he could only guess who it was. Engie was going to have to run cleanup for the umpteenth time that day.

***

When Engie heard someone vomiting, he wanted to cry. It wasn’t the mess that upset him, it was sheer exhaustion. For three days now, he’d been taking care of seven of his colleagues almost simultaneously. He had no idea why he hadn’t gotten sick. He might have attributed it to his cleanliness or relatively solitary ways, but it was probably just dumb luck.

Actually, he wasn’t so sure if he was the lucky one. The others got to stay in bed and rest. He had to run between them, making sure they stayed hydrated and clean and painkiller-ed. Everyone but Sniper had emptied their stomachs at least once. He had to keep alcohol in Demo; detoxing now would only make the chemist sicker. Pyro was delirious and seemed fuzzy on where she was. Spy was whining up such a storm that Engie was tempted to just leave the Frenchman to rot in his own germs. And Scout had become too weak to walk, thus introducing the engineer to the joys of cleaning out a bedpan.

And so, when somebody vomited, Engie had to choice but to haul his tired body back to the infirmary. Thankfully, Demo’s stomach had been mostly empty beforehand and he’d managed to mostly hit the bucket.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Engie said while Demo muttered a soggy apology. What else could he do? Engie gave Demo a few sips of water to clear out the taste and took the bucket out back so he could hose it down.

It was evening by now, the light fading into something soft and blue. The soup in the slow cooker should be getting awfully close to done. Time for him to go check on everyone. Make his evening rounds.

“His” rounds, as if he weren’t completely unsuited to the role of caretaker

He’d do Spy first. Get the most unpleasant task over and done. Sure, Spy claimed to be ill, but he was so much more functional than everyone else that Engie wasn’t sure he wasn’t faking. Spy wasn’t even in bed. He had planted his skinny, germy ass on the common room sofa. All dolled up in a prissy dressing gown and expensive-looking slippers, as if he were trying to emulate a magazine’s idea of an invalid gentleman.

“Ye-es?” said Spy when he say Engie.

“Soup’s in the kitchen if you want some,” said Engie, hurrying away before Spy could ask him for yet another foot rub.

Pyro next. Sickness had done nothing for the firebug’s already addled mind. She had insisted in staying not in the infirmary, not in her bed, but in her closet. Something something she had to hide in the unicorn cave or something something bad men would come and make her wear a white jacket. So Engie found her curled in a nest of blankets and dirty clothes, Balloonicorn clutched in her arms.

 “Hey, Py.” Engie squatted down. “How ya holdin’ up?”

Pyro whimpered.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. It’ll get better, I promise.” He stroked her greasy hair. “I made soup. Ya want some?”

Pyro shook her head.

“You been drinkin’, at least?”

Pyro pointed to the empty water glass.

“All righty, then. If you need something or decide you’d rater stay in bed, just holler, okay?” Engie left the closet door open a crack and headed for the infirmary.

Before this particular flue outbreak, the infirmary’s three beds had never been simultaneously occupied. With Demo, Scout and Sniper here, the place seemed far too crowded. The air seemed thicker, somehow, not because of the unwashed bodies of the cranked-up heat, but because it was absolutely saturated with germs. No, no, Engie corrected himself. There was no way to feel germs in the air. He was just getting paranoid. Exhaustion could do that do a man.

It seemed that vomiting had helped Demo feel better, because he gladly accepted the soup Engie offered. Sniper also claimed to be hungry. They seemed almost content as they slurped away and stared at the flickering TV. Engie didn’t recognize the show. It seemed to be one of those stupid dramas Demo liked so much. A period piece, set in Shakespearicleasean England. Engie could tell because of the ruff-necked noblemen rocket jumping to the second floor of a castle. 

Enough about that. He still had to deal with Scout. Engie was a little ashamed that his first instinct was to check on the bedpan. Thankfully, it was empty.  Not so thankfully, Scout looked as awful as ever. White as a sheet, hair crusty with old sweat, body in the exact same position Engie had left him in. When the thermometer read 39.5, Engie wasn’t even remotely surprised.

“Scout?” No response. Engie gave the boy’s shoulders a bit of a shake. “Scout? Can you hear me?”

Scout stirred and blinked a couple times. His eyes seemed unfocused and glassy and he muttered a string of syllables that Engie didn’t understand. “ghteathghajdhdhea adjadha dhad jadhf adjk wha da fuk did eye dye?”

“No, you haven’t died for a couple of days,” said Engie. “We’re at Snakewater. It’s ceasefire ‘cause just about everybody’s sick.”

“Oh, okay.” One of Scout’s hands snaked out from under the blankets as if he wanted to gesture at something. “You, uh.” He tried to focus his eyes on Engie’s face. “You got wateh?”

There was a full tumbler sitting on the bedside table, but Engie wasn’t going to hold Scout responsible for the details. He just propped up Scout’s head and held the glass to his lips.

“Easy, easy. Not so fast. We don’t want this coming back up.”

“Whatevah.”

Engie sighed and wondered if he ought to coax some soup into the boy. He might have decided against it if Scout hadn’t been so damn skinny. The flu had effectively sucked away what little fat Scout had, and was probably helping itself to his muscles.

He needed some food.

There was no way Scout was going to be able to feed himself, so Engie just spooned it into him. He hoped Scout would be hungry, but he began to protest after a few spoonfuls. “I’m done, I’m done. I can’t even taste it, it’s weahd.”

“All righty, then.” Engie set the bowl down with a clink. Leaning forward, he flipped Scout onto his stomach, stripped back the blankets and quickly checked for bedsores. There were none, so he put the boy on his side and tucked the covers up to his chin. “I’ll check on you again before I go to bed.”

Scout didn’t respond. He just lay there, looking small and weak and helpless. Engie patted him twice on the shoulder and moved on, feeling sorry.

*** 

“Heavy? Doc?” Engie rapped lightly on the bedroom door. Heavy groaned and pulled the blankets over his head.

“Doctor, could you ask Engineer to keep the lights dimmed?” he said in Russian. “I’ve got a splitting headache.” Medic nodded, translating when Engie started to fumble for the light switch.

Heavy refused food but gladly accepted a couple aspirin. Medic allowed Engie to prop him up on pillows and bring him soup.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay eatin’ that in the dark?” Engie whispered. Outside, the sky was almost completely black. The only light was a thin golden strip that came in from the half-open door.

“I vill manage.” Truth to be told, soup in the dark reminded Medic of the blackouts of his childhood. The only things missing were sirens and bombs. Not exactly pleasant, but still, nostalgic. He balanced the bowl in his lap, and took a cautious sip. It was as tasty as all of Engie’s cooking. It wasn’t exactly a cream-based soup, but there was certainly some cream in it. Maybe a little rich for sick men, but he was hardly in a position to complain. Engie had already done plenty.

“How are zhe others?”

“Scout’s still a wreck,” said Engie. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed at his knees. “Been keepin’ him clean and fed as best I can. He’s been losin’ weight somethin’ fierce.”

“Well, zhat’s not zhe best, but zhere’s not much you can do. Frankly, I’m most vorried about bedsores. You’ve been repositionink him?”

“Every few hours, just like you said.”

“Good man.” Medic leaned forward and patted Engie’s shoulder with as much gusto as he could muster.

“Engineer is credit to team,” said Heavy from under the covers.

Engie just nodded. His usually-poor posture had deteriorated even more. His head began to bob, and Medic wondered if he might fall asleep right there. He was about to tell Engie to get some rest when the door suddenly slammed open. The lights came on in a blinding blaze.

“Ebat,” Heavy grunted, clutching his head. Medic tried to blink through the light, even though he already knew who it was.

“GOOD EVENING, MAGGOTS!”

Medic finally managed to focus his eye on Solider’s. The team’s only other healthy man was covered in sweat and mud, a raccoon clutched under his arm. The little beast’s teeth didn’t seem to be able to penetrate the fabric of Solider’s jacket. 

“Godamnit.” Engie made his way to his feet and waddled towards Soldier. “Out. Now.”

Soldier didn’t move a millimeter. “But I must check on my men. I must help them.”

“We been over this already. You’re supposta stay outta my way.”

“If I stay away, how can I make sure my men are not dying?”

Medic rolled his eyes. Engie gritted his teeth. “They ain’t dyin’. Trust me.”

“And how would you know, maggot? You have never seen a man die from disease.”

“I…” Engie obviously never had. For a moment, Medic wondered if Engie would try to physically shove Solider out. He never got an answer, because the raccoon wriggled free and shot off running down the hall.

“Lieutenant Fluffybuttons! Come back at one! This is desertion!”

Engie groaned. Heavy stuck his head back out. “How long until Soldier returns?” 

Medic doubted Soldier would return. The man had the attention span of a gnat. After chasing down the raccoon, he’d find something else to scream about.

“He prolly won’t,” said Engie, echoing Medic’s thoughts. “I bet he forgets.”

With that, Engie turned the lights back off, gathered up the soup bowl and prepared to go. “Anything else y’all need?”

“One more blanket, if okay,” said Heavy. “Am cold.”

“Don’t worry,” said Engie, retrieving said blanket and draping it over them. “Holler if you need anything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

***

Medic woke up drenched in sweat. Too many blankets were piled on top of him and Heavy radiated more heat than a nuclear reactor. Shuffling to edge of the bed and kicking off the layers didn’t help. He felt disgusting. His skin and hair seemed to be coated in grease and sour residue of soup lingered in his mouth.

Enough. He needed to brush his teeth and take a shower. Now.

Medic leapt to his feet with the speed and enthusiasm of his healthy self and almost fell over. Two days of disuse and his legs were already wobbly. The short walk to the bathroom left his muscles spasming and his stomach churning.  

Water. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Brushing with as much vigor as he could muster. When he spat, he mouth felt so fresh and clean that he knew it had been worth it.

Shower now. What he really wanted was a bath, but the Snakewater base didn’t have any tubs. He turned on the water and waited for it to warm. His legs were really shaking now. Leaning against the wall helped. A little. Even with the support, he felt his legs crumple underneath him. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to sit down. He’d get up in a moment.

***

“Why are you sleeping in here, maggot? You have a rack!”

Medic dragged his eyes open. He could barely see Solider through the steamy air. Had he fainted? How long had he been there? Long enough for the shower to heat to practically boiling, that was for sure.

“I just need a shower.” Medic tried to get to his feet, but his limbs did not cooperate.  

“Stop that,” said Solider. “You look like you will fall. You are old and will a break a hip.”

Medic swore under his breath. He was only, what, five years older than Solider? “Vell, I’m not goink to just sit here.”

“You’d better not! You stink! I can smell you from here.” With that, Solider bent down and grabbed the hem of Medic’s nightshirt. 

“Vhat are you doink?”

“Hold still, maggot.” Soldier got the shirt off surprisingly easily. If Medic hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn Soldier had some experience in undressing people. The pants came off next. Then Solider unceremoniously stripped, grabbed Medic by his armpits and dragged him under the shower jets.

Some part of Medic wanted to screech. He was being manhandled by a naked man who was not Heavy. Even worse, his bare skin was touching the unsanitized bathroom floor. But there was no time for screeching. Solider squirted out a handful of Mann Shampoo and scrubbed Medic as if the doctor were a Labrador. Quick, efficient, not exactly gentle, but it still managed to feel kind of nice. Solider dragged Medic back out of the shower, wrapped him in a towel, propped him up in the corner, and proceeded to wash himself. One soapy hand went through Soldier’s sensible haircut and another over his body. Just like a solider who’d been told he only had three minutes for a shower.

By now, Medic was shivering. Some combination of hot water, cool air, and fever had thrown him completely out of whack. He didn’t have to shiver long, though, because Soldier dressed, wrapped another towel around Medic’s shoulders and picked him up, fireman-style. This was the exact same carry Medic had used on injured soldiers during the war. It wasn’t graceful, but it got a downed man where he needed to be.

“You do not seem to like using lights,” said Solider, kicking the bedroom door open. The door slammed into the opposite wall with a loud thunk, but the sleeping Heavy didn’t stir.

Medic expected Soldier to dump him on the bed like a sack of potatoes, but Soldier set him down almost gently.

“Where are your clothes?” said Solider.

“Vhat?”

“Or do you sleep naked?”

“Oh. Zhat. Undervear in zhe top drawer,” said Medic. “Pajamas under zhat.” Soldier retrieved the clothes, muttering about how real men slept in tank tops and boxers. Medic ignored it and allowed Solider to help him dress. Collar. Sleeve, sleeve. There was no unnecessary yanking, fumbling, or shouting.

“You are surprisingly good at zhis,” said Medic, almost surprised at himself.

“Of course I am good! I have practiced.”

“Ah, yes. Zhe raccoons.”

“Raccoons do not wear faggy pajamas, maggot. I have practiced with people!” Seeing Medic’s incredulous expression, he added. “During Cassino, there were bodies all over the hills.”

Cassino? The Battle of Monte Cassino? 1944? Solider had been there?

“If a man’s holding his guts and screaming at the sky, do you wait for a medic to come around and fix? No! You cut off his clothes, fix him up with beer and tape and haul him to an ambulance. Do it right, and it won’t hurt him more. And when all the nurses are falling over exhausted, a real American volunteers to step in.”

Medic remembered Monte Cassino. He had been stationed in Murmansk at the time. He’d been in the operating room, trying to stuff some poor teenager-cum-soldier’s intestines back into his body when one of the orderlies had come rushing in, crying that Rome had been captured.

“You are looking at me funny. Why is that?”

“It’s nothing,” said Medic.

“Don’t be shy, maggot. We are all Americans here!”

“It’s not a funny look. My face is just tired.”

Amazingly, Soldier seemed to buy it. Without another word, he gave Medic’s pillow a couple punches that were supposed to be fluffing, and slipped it under the doctor’s head. Looking at the blankets, he seemed to realize Medic would incinerate under two comforters and draped just the sheet over him.  

Medic let out a sound that was half a sigh, half a moan. Bed was lovely. Soft and cool, and he felt delightfully clean. If only could have had some tea. Thick, spicy ginger to settle his stomach and soothe his throat. No, no. Best not to ask anything of Soldier. Even with something as simple as tea, he’d manage to screw it up somehow. 

“Your face is tired? I am tired, too,” said Solider.

“A good workout vill do that to you.” 

“Not that! There is no workout that will best me! I do Australian jujitsu and it has made me indestructible.” Soldier paused, as if he had momentarily forgotten what he was trying to say. Then his face seemed to light up and he continued. “I am only tired of doing Australian jujitsu and everything else alone, because Engineer will not let me near my men.”

Medic pushed himself to his elbows and blinked at Soldier. His initial instinct was disgust – Soldier was a lunatic, a lead-poisoned idiot, as crazy as Pyro but without any sweetness.

A drip of water came out of his still-damp hair and trickled down his neck. He brushed it away with his hand. Without Soldier, he’d probably still be wiping sweat off the back of his neck.

He hadn’t known about Monte Cassino and neither did Engie.

“How about zhis,” said Medic. “I vill talk to Engie. He vill listen…”

“You’re the only one he listens to.”

“Yes, I know. But in return, I need you to make me some tea.”

“Tea?” Soldier screwed up his face. For a moment, Medic wondered if Soldier would also find a way to poke fun at the tea.

“Tea? That’s what you want? That’s easy! Tea doesn’t even fight back.” With that, he turned on his heals and charged off, slammed the door open as he exited.

 “Ginger, please,” Medic called after him.

Between the slamming and the stomping, Heavy finally stirred. He opened his eyes halfway. “What was that?” he muttered in Russian. “I could have sworn I heard someone talking.”

“Shhh, go back to sleep,” Medic replied in the same language. He twisted his fingers through Heavy. “No need to worry. Everything’s fine.”  

Was this really fine? Soldier was going to have his calloused hands on everyone. Raccoon-hoarding Solider, shouting his nonsense while he cared for the sick. Then again, the agreement was over and done. No point in regretting it now. Medic settled back and tried to relax, eyelids suddenly very heavy.

***

Soldier came back with the tea soon after. The hot water left a layer of foggy condensation along the edge of the plastic juice glass. Those tea bags were tough little bastards, difficult to tear open, but he had defeated them in the end. Black leaf particles bobbed on the surface of the water. 

But when Soldier got back to the bedroom, Medic had already fallen asleep. Soldier just left the tea on the bedside table. When he woke, Medic would see it and remember to talk to Engineer.  

[bearhyog-blog]

{ OOC }

So... I’ve been missing. I needed some time for myself, I was really down and I just wanted to take a break from existing basically. I haven’t kept in touch with anyone, not even picking up the phone from grandma. I don’t know why specifically but I can tell you what has been happening in my life lately.

But before all that, I just want to take the time to thank you for keeping me up to date with your life and for always remembering me. I received your present last Friday and that made me sooooooooooooooooooooo happy. You have no idea, my favourite thing to colour is animals ^^ also, mom LOVED her calender, she hung it up on our living room and told me to thank you while complimenting your kindness and “foolishness” from wasting money on her. So thank you, thank you very much for your words, your actions and the postcards! They’re really well thought out and it makes my heart warm to know that I have someone who loves me, even if we’re far apart.

Where do I begin though.

As you know, I’ve been promised a job. I’m still waiting for it because the guy is so utterly busy he just can’t find the time to make videos with me. I don’t know, I’m disappointed I guess. Again. Mom also talked to the lady who was going to give me a ton of work and she also said she’s too busy. I might have a shot at teaching english 101 but the burocracy is crazy and idek how to handle situations like that, its all so complicated, my god. So I’ve been a little sad regarding that. But hey! I finished my portfolio if you wanna check it out. I’ll be adding stuff to it as I make more stuff. Here’s the link:  https://marquesara.wixsite.com/portfolio

What else is new? Ah! Since I’ve been feeling so lost and just down, I took on a little project. At first, it was going to be a turtle but the money to keep one is sooooooo much that I decided on dwarf hamsters. They’re very cute. They’re also kinda boring because they don’t interact with us but eh they’re nice to look at and feed and stuff. At first I got two: Francis and Sebastian. I read online that males are usually more calm than females so I decided on two males. AND I build their cage out of a plastic storage box, that wood flooring they have, cardbox as bed and stairs a wheel, a bird nest and feeding / drinking objects. It gave me a purpose, you know? And I was a little happier for a little while. They now live in my closet because my cats are crazy killers and they don’t leave the poor things alone. So during the day I leave the door open from the closet so they can see sunlight while I keep the door to my room closed so they can’t get in. At night I close the closet and leave the door open for the cats if they want to sleep on my bed. Oh! But that’s not all. I went back for a third mouse because the box was just so big for 2 little creatures. When I got to the store I said I wanted to take one more and the lady went. “We have two here but one is not for sale because he doesn’t have a leg so we can’t sell that one.” but I had noticed that one of the hamsters I had home had a limp so I told her that and she apologized and said I could take it back and they’d give me the money back for it. I said no way! The creature is no less of a creature because it has a limp! So the lady said she would offer me one hamster instead. I agreed to that (duh) but I saw that there was only one left in the cage so I told her I’d take that one too so he wouldn’t be alone. So now I have four hamsters living in my room. Oh! The others’ names are Aiden and Josh. They’re all named after characters from shows I love hahaha

Still on the animal train, we have Lolita! Lolita is a very pretty, young cat who gave birth to three kittens last month. She belongs to a friend of grandma’s and the poor cat got pregnant basically because the woman won’t sterilize her and she didn’t want to hear the cat whine so she let her free. Someone found her on the street, shaking, quivering in fear under a car and with major weight loss. Instantly, I wanted to take Lolita from that woman. And I might. I’m going to propose to her that I take her to the vet and do an aids test on her. I can’t add an aids cat in my family but I can help with the kittens. Mom wants to adopt one so we might just do that. Or take them all to the vet for responsible adoptions, because wtf... People are so selfish. I spent a whole hour in her house with Lolita and her kittens. Lolita is so gentle and thin and her cubs are still so small they can’t even meow sometimes. One is black and white, the other is white with brown spots and the other one is white and bege. They’re ALL adorable. But this kind of thing triggers me. I know I can’t be the super hero, saving all the animals but that makes me sad and just bleh.

Moving onward, in a talk with mom she said I had my savings from my childhood in the house and not in the bank anymore and it was a decent amount so instead of just worrying about the future all the time and seeing mom getting so stressed about money, I took her with me to the mall nearest, to Primark so we could both get some new clothes. She was really happy so we went once again days later. I paid for all of it. It wasn’t much but it was something we could never afford if it wasn’t for the savings since mom isn’t doing so well in her job. Anyway, I got sunglasses from dad that cost 25 CENTS!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, that’s how cheap that store is. You can get amazing deals. He was so happy for the random present hahahaha. I also then took a little more cash out of the envelope and told mom to come with me to a store nearby where the supermarket is, she was confused and asked why so I asked her “black, white or gold”? She was even more confused but on our way there she yells “YOU’RE NOT BUYING ME A PHONE ARE YOU?”. Let’s just say mom’s phone belongs in the 1700s and it has a lot of issues. So I searched online and I got a great deal from that store. Mom was FLOORED. It was nice to see. She’s been so down too so I wanted to cheer her up a bit! And it worked, she loved the phone. It’s no Terminator but it works fine, so ^^

I also got you a couple cute things but idk when I’ll be sending them because our post office is working like SHIT!!!!!!!!!!! I’m super mad at them. Remember when I told you I had some stuff from ebay coming? ONE IS STILL NOT HERE DUE TO A TECHNICAL DIFFICULTY. I was so pissed at them I emailed them to insult the crap out of them. Sigh. I hope it comes back soon or I’ll destroy the company with my screams.

Mom bought me an aloe vera plant.

I started washing my hair with shampoo after 1 year of flour. It’s organic, biologic and plant-based blah blah so that I can finally not have flour in my hair all the time but still don’t damage it with chemicals. I didn’t even know such things existed LOL but at the mall I saw this store glowing green and checked it out and NOW I AM FREE OF FLOUR HAHAHAHAHAH

In the meantime, I went to two funerals. No one I knew personally but they were family of family, you know? It made me remember to pray, I had forgotten the words hahahaha. And I like churches, they look old and historical and smell wooden-y hahahaahah I’m an idiot.

Anyway, basically I just dug myself a hole and covered it. I’m ready to resurface now, bit by bit. Thank the lord for TV series. Spoiler alert, Jon Snow sleeps with a very hot woman. LOL But what’s really got me going is this series called Being Human and it’s SOOOOOOOOOOO good. It’s about a vampire, a werewolf and a ghost who live together. They’re all friends against their species “rules”. It’s so dramatic and violent and romantic and emotional and omg I just want to marry Josh, he’s my little Teddy Bear. You should check it out! I think you’d like it. Don’t watch the UK version, that SUCKS. Watch the US remake. Ughhhhhhhh. I even wrote fanfiction about me and Josh HAHHHAHAHAHAHAHA It’s silly but when you’re by yourself that’s what you do.

I just... I really can’t explain it. I fell like Alice in Wonderland (idk if you’ll get the reference or if you saw the movie) but she falls down this hole in the ground and there’s all sorts of things she sees around her like tea pots and chess tables and singing butterflies AS SHE FALLS (more like floats down). And then I felt trapped, I didn’t know which way to go. Should I wait for work here, should I just pack my things and go to Ireland? It’s all so blurry and I think the anxiety of it all caught up to me.

Which reminds me! I upped my meds and they’re working well :)

What else...

Hmmm, oh I have the flu -_- I think I caught it from a kid at dad’s house the other day I went there to have dinner with them. I feel like I weigh 1000000000000kg but it’s all physical, you know? Clogged nose, horrible dry cough, bit of a fever. Nothing that won’t cure itself. 

I think that’s all there is to tell, actually. The rest of my days I just spend watching shows with mom, sleeping the day away because the meds make me sleepy, walking Mel, taking naps, and more naps. Oh right! And I’m doing therapy too. They stopped the OCD therapy for now because I believe I’m in a good place right now, controllable state that I don’t need a doctor to continue with my treatment for that. But now we’re going all the way back to my childhood and why I only have nightmares and why do I dream of the same guy over and over who I didn’t even date but like... it was a crush in MIDDLE SCHOOL. She basically said I’m emotionally damaged (what a surprise) and that led to consequences such as not liking men unless they’re fictional. But we just started on that so we’ll see where this goes. I think that put me down too, I had to write about every guy I had been involved even at 12 years old and I hated remembering all those times and people and that ALSO contributed to me not being in the brightest of mood.

Then I tried joining a RP as JB from GOT7 because he’s a hot piece of ass. I was on like 7 different dates, not even kidding but I lost interest because they were too easy. I left and joined as Yeeun. No one talked to me so I left again and came back as Ken and his ex from a rp like... two years ago is there and it’s so awkward I just stopped showing. 

And that has been my life!

You have no idea how much I’ve missed you and I wanted to talk to you but I just didn’t have the strength... I’m sorry about that and for not being there when you needed me, I truly feel so bad. But I’m here now okay? And I’ll even rewind here so that we don’t clog the messenger feed (which we tend to do a lot)

[nickiefish]

Thank you

Thank you for not giving me time to myself Thank you for not letting me heal in my own way Thank you for overreacting Thank you for proving once again that money and power make monsters Thank you for clogging up my feed with bad memes that I know you spent time on Thank you for mocking me like I've never been mocked before for a few comments made online (That you could have replied to) Thank you for thinking my imaginative world was a reality to you, I look up the charts of a lot of famous people, I could tell you the sun and moon sign of a bunch of them and that I didn’t ever plan on meeting them Thank you for picking my stuff apart, the stuff I liked and adored, thank you for taking it over the edge Thank you for assuming my compassion and attraction for love (it is love, just not the way you make it out to be). Thank you, for once being light on cloudy days and then again, for being light to everyone else but me (how could I not feel special). Thank you for posting I don’t even know what videos on the Internet of me and feeling shameless about it. Thank you for making me think someone might actually kill me, because if I was important enough to hack and was seen as a real threat, why would I not also be in danger Thank you, for once again letting me know that my voice isn’t supposed to be heard if it hurts men’s feelings (men’s, I doubt you would have done the same if someone made comments about a woman) Thank you for such an overreaction, I can’t actually wrap my head around it. Thank you for such a personal attack that seems improbable and maybe impossible to prove to anyone who isn’t close to me, I’m such an honest person in general but I haven’t been looked at as crazy before. Thank you, for carrying hate for so long, it’s surprised me. Thank you, for not relenting, on something that could have been trivial. Thank you for not doing the normal thing of blocking, ignoring, or just plain disagreeing with me. Thank you for showing me horror for something that I didn’t think could ever be horrible.

Thank you for making me stronger and weaker at the same time.

And for thinking it’s okay to treat someone this way, it’s not ok.

It’s not okay. It’s not alright. It’s not nice nor kind nor justified.

And if you think that you can make me feel bad for a couple comments, I do sometimes, I debate, I go back on what I said, I apologize if I think someone else is right or proven right. If I said something I ended up disagreeing with, I’ll apologize or delete it.

Because I’m human. I am a human being. And your life (lives) are not worth more than mine. (Well, they could be if God thinks so, idk, but the truth is, you don’t know either).

And I would have apologized if you had said something and treated me like a human being.