#but at a certain point i was gonna have a psychotic break if i kept rewriting that whole section

[compacflt]

I've read the original version of WWGATTAI and I was wondering why you later decided to have Pete sleep around during their "break up" or rocky patch. I think in the first version he just flirts with others but later tells Ice that he'd burst into flames if he actually slept with anyone else. Did you see it as cheating or did you see it as them being in a very real separation that both were aware of?

oh shit someone who read the original shitty version 😭😭😭😭😭😭 okay thanks for sticking with me that long firstly

okay—that part of the story was the first part i ever wrote (besides the epilogue which was actually first) so i just didn’t know how it would play out, so there’s that—I didn’t think through the consequences of ice’s betrayal at ALL so that’s the whole reason why i went back and edited it

Secondly, (see here for another post about this), no, I don’t think of it as cheating. they weren’t in a relationship (like they Were but they also weren’t). they were in a situationship that got out of hand. if ice is jealous/butthurt about maverick sleeping around then he is coping & seething and should be made fun of

thirdly, mavericks an unrealistically handsome single guy in his early forties who may have just wasted the last decade of his life on a man who betrayed him/his family & basically dumped him & left him, so not unexpected that he would retaliate by sleeping with other people.

fourthly, as maverick says above, “it’s a distraction,” “[it’s someone who is] not you. I just can’t seem to shake you. I don’t know what else to do.” he feels like he is out of options & he himself is too cowardly to break things off with ice so he’s waiting for ice to break things off with him. him sleeping around = a.) satisfying a physical need that ice used to fulfill before he left b.) shopping around for other people c.) retaliating for ice’s betrayal d.) trying to provoke ice into breaking up with him e.) attempting to distract himself from how much he misses ice

[non-un-topo]

random ass questions about ur stories: ok I don’t remember the title but ur recent long fic that was like. the aftermath of losing quynh and they were on that island with the fun-shaped stone that Nicky found? if ur happy to share I’d LOVE to hear about like. what part of the story u came up with first. like what image/vibe/plot point etc stuck in ur head so much that u wrote a whole fic about it yk? I absolutely LOVED that fic and would love to know!! hope ur having a good day and also no pressure to respond 🫶💕

🥺🥺 Ohh friend, thank you!! I'm so glad you liked it, and I'm sending lots of love to you!! The fic in question is Axis! (you're gonna get me talking about this big baby of mine and I won't shut up lol, I'm shy but I've had a lot of caffeine and I'm excited) <33

So I actually went looking through my old docs, phone notes, and physical journals for the first idea I had of this fic after I read your ask, because I could not seem to remember?? From what I managed to dig up, it was based on vibes first. I have some journal notes on "aporia", a state of ambivalence, and liminal space. I think I started writing it in October last year, during a very weird time where my mental health was... not great. In short, and hopefully without oversharing, I thought I was having a psychotic break. Turned out it was likely the CBD capsules I was taking for my chronic pain, which had a psychoactive effect I hadn't anticipated (like 0.1mg of THC and somehow it was enough). Anyway, at that time I started writing a lot of garbled philosophical thoughts, and I'll share this one for you because I'm almost certain it's what inspired Axis: (also putting the rest of this under a read-more so I don't annoy anyone sdfghfd)

What is the present? I wonder, because the moment you put your attention on it, it becomes the past. It vanishes. We think about present moments, but they’re already gone. All that exists is this idea of ‘happening’: All that will happen, and all that has happened. Neither is tangible. Neither can be held or kept. In thinking about the future, we imagine possibilities. In thinking about the past, we revive in our minds what has already happened. The only present that exists is the imagination. The dream. That which removes us from our reality, from our position in time and space. Where exactly is that? Rather, where are our selves in that state? Do we linger? Do we go? And if so, where? How long is the length of a single present moment? Can our lives exist as this single thread, if we spend it in dream-state? Are we forever suspended, or do our recollections of the past, our imaginings of the future, tether us to something tangible after all?

Anyway, right below this is the first line from Axis: "It is wondrous how quickly things can change in a moment."

Besides vibes and themes (suspension, stasis, indecision, fear of being lost, grieving, surrendering to the will of nature, being a fixed point in a broken group, being tethered together or untethered, things happening in reverse, being upside-down, being consumed, yadda yadda), I think the first scenes that popped into my head as visuals before I got writing were 1) Nicolo standing in the valley and catching a flake of ash in the air. 2) Yusuf and/or Nicolo in a hot spring. 3) Larus' frozen lambs. 4) The argument between Andromache and Nicolo, but no dialogue yet.

I know I wanted to write something sort of dream-like, that dipped in and out of flashbacks and liminal states, and I'm genuinely proud of myself for seeing it through. The last school year I had was intense to say the least, and there was a long stretch of time where I just left this fic as one scene and a bunch of nonsensical notes. Then, being real transparent here, a couple different tragedies happened one right after the other, and I just opened the doc again. I think my nana dying slowly had a lot to do with the direction my writing took. Thoughts, feelings, general atmosphere from real life creeps into my writing every time, and often I don't even notice until the project is done and I've read it a few times.

Anyway, I'm WAY overselling this fic dfgfds. It just means a whole lot to me and I know you can tell, so I appreciate you asking about it <3 Hope you have a fantastic day. Sending love and hugs <333

A bonus angsty snippet that didn't make it into the final work, just for you <3

It happens like this sometimes: Yusuf begins. “What if we never found you?” “You did.” “But what if. Just humour me for a moment.” You do. You love this man, so you do. “I wasn’t fast enough, and you slipped. I didn’t grab you. I didn’t even pull you from the water.” “You know it is not your fault.” “Andi didn’t— you didn’t see. I tried to jump in after you—” “And you would have been lost, too.” “No, I would have gotten you back.” There is no way to prove this. Nothing is certain. It already happened. You’re going around in circles. Yusuf says again, in a whisper, “What if we never found you?” You’re finding it hard to speak. To say anything in this moment. Yusuf presses his hands over his mouth, but it does nothing to contain his stilted gasps. He presses his words against his palms, but you hear them clear as ice: “What if we never find her?”

[forthechubbies]

Mrs. Jeon Vol 3

Synopsis• One nightstand gone Marriage!? The past catches up with Yn when her head over heels husband finds his lost bride and will keep her by any means necessary.

Category's•Violent Thoughts, Hostel Behavior, Nsfw (Later), and Bratty Jungkook.

Duos• Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader

Vol 1, 2, 3, 4,

What’s going on down there? It sounds restlessly calm. You could hear muffled voices but nothing more; you aren't too keen on testing your luck and sneak into the corridor to eavesdrop on their conversation. Pretty sure the door is locked anyway.

Instead, You took note of the confined walls surrounding you. A typical master bedroom accessorized an earthy decor, cute mini-plants placed in various room areas, two tiny pet turtles in a tank constructed into a giant wooden bookshelf.

Speaking of books, talk about books galore. The shelved books had little to no wiggle room aside from the one empty slot belonging to the open novel on the nightstand. The owner won’t mind you partaking in one quick gander-

“Ah!” You gasp, fixing your eyes on your newly treated ankle. For a minute, you just about forgot this crazy abducted situation your in. The bedsprings dip as you flop back into the spot where Jimin left you. Jimin was the man you fell on during your first attempt at freedom; he was even generous enough to bandage with utmost care.

A kind gesture a particular bunny wasn’t too thrilled on seeing, Jungkook's face soured while watching Jimin’s filthy little womanizing hands caressing the delicate soft plushy skin of his carrot’s legs.

Son of a bitch trying to cop a feel on his wife, Jimin’s flirtatious persona, led him out to be a well-known heartthrob but often seen as a gigolo through certain people's point of view and, frankly, Jungkook's wife won't be a victim of the Jimin Effect.

Crash!

The smash of a glass object-making contact with the hard marble kitchen floor snatched Jimin’s and your attention giving it to the irritable bunny who’s psychotically enthusiastic about testing his progress in strength by snapping his hyung’s neck-

Oh, no, his carrot looks frightened-He shouldn't do such a brutal act of love with his wife nearby; her poor innocent heart might shatter. No violence...At least for the time being.

Next thing you know, Jungkook's face lightened up, and even when Jimin bit his head off for breaking one of Jin’s fancy dinnerware, his facial expression persisted undaunted. Jungkook kept a serene masquerade, but through closer observation, he clenched his jaw at Jimin’s hand on cradling the small of his wife’s back, guiding her into hiding in the upper part of the house for a reason unknown.

Jungkook let Jimin take you no-fuss included, Hence, Your encaged situation. For all, you know, The men were downstairs plotting a far-flung strategy to murder you making it look like a battle of defense.

Though, You were more occupied by another Crack for the floor down below. ” Ahh!” You cried out, falling back on the bed once again.

Meanwhile, Downstairs.

”Stop! Breaking Hyung’s plates, or we're both as good as dead!” Jimin growled. ”Quit avoiding the question! Who the hell is that woman!? Did you hurt her!? Why-!” Jimin asked Jungkook until his cheeks burned a reddish hue, and his neck veins were dominant.

In one swift breath, Jungkook responded. “ She’s Mrs.Jeon. My wife.”

Jimin knew his maknae had a few loose screws in his head, but this is getting out of hand.

”Wife?! Do you know how old you are!? Kook, You just turn twenty-three-”

”So What.” Jungkook interrupted. ”You want me to wait until I’m an ancient fart like Hyung to get married.”

”Pffft.” Jimin pressed his lips into a thin line suppressing his need to laugh. ”Ahem, respect your elders-You little brat.”

Amidst the brothers at each other's throats, another member of the maknae line awakened from his mid-morning nap; drowsy eyed Kim Taehyung waddled upstairs to check up on his Hyung living in the room above him.

He could have sworn a faint scream is what he heard-Well; there's no harm in checking.

You jumped at the squeaky hinges of the door opening. Wait, it was unlocked!? Expecting the uninvited visitor to be Jungkook, You raised a pillow over your head, ready to be hurled-to your amazement; it was a completely different man.

A long-haired male with long chocolate locks kept at bay by a beige headband; his attire was disarray. His tank top hung off his shoulder, slightly creased in his pajama pant’s waistband.

Adorable, to say the least, the poor thing’s eyes weren’t even fully open yet, the pretty pink pout of his lips nearly forced an” Aw” from yours.

”Who are you?” He grumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

Sweet mother of deep, He stood a few feet away, but the raspiness and depth of his voice caused your insides to start quivering.

”I’m-I’m the sand fairy.” You choked out, fluttering the tips of your fingers as if spreading magic dust. ” I'm here to ensure all your dreams are sweet. ”

You nibbled your lip nervously, hoping he takes the bait. He yawned in response dragging his exhausted body across the room to you; he halts. You gulped, staring up at him; you felt like a mouse about to pounce on by a tiger.

”H-H-I!” You yelped.

The man took no real investment in your fib; instead, he decided to reap the benefits of how soft and plushy you are by laying his head on your bare thighs. He wiggled in place to reach maximum comfort.

”Ah.” He moaned, falling back to sleep.

Oh, dear.

………

The sound of the hyung’s arrival made the two maknae gulp.

First in the door was Hoseok, hands full grocery bags ” Come help! Quick, save the ice cream if it isn't soup by now.”

Namjoon followed behind. ” I told Jin not to get the ice cream first-He knows how he gets with his coupons.”

”The worst part is he got upset when we told him that's enough food then told to stay in the car.” Yoongi stretched out the pins and needles feeling in his limbs.

”You may say that's enough now, but when that brat comes, he's going to eat us out of house and home!” Jin scolded, unconsciously fetching the rest of the bags.

Jin froze, staring at Jungkook, helping put the food in the correct places. He didn't hesitate to smother his baby boy in a hug, but right after, he jabbed Jungkook's gut.

”Oof!” Jungkook doubled over, gripping his chest. ” I missed you too,” He coughed.

Jin stood tall. ” And there's plenty more where that came from once Hoseok gets his hands on you.”

Anyone but Hoseok.

” I heard Jk!” Hoseok rushed Jungkook a bear hug. ” Thank goodness you're alright!” He jabbed in his Jungkook's gut. ” Where the hell have you been?!”

Jungkook groaned. ” Ou-Ouch..I won't be able to tell you if I keep getting hit.” He cleared his throat. ”America.”

”America!” The hyungs blared out.

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. ” What possessed you to go there on your own? Have you forgotten what you are?”

Jungkook sighed. “ I know, I know, but I just envy normal people around my age having the freedom to go wherever they want.”

“ But you’re not," Yoongi brutally minced Jungkook’s sob story. He’s not particularly fond of beating around the bush, especially when dealing with his brothers earlier this afternoon. “ Unlike ‘normal’ twenty-year-olds, you are adored by army who would be upset if anything happened to you.”

Jungkook bowed his head in shame; the thought of army never really crossed his mind.

“And-“ Yoongi continued. “ There are crazies in every country, so what made you think heading off on your own would be alright!?”

“Why America?” Namjoon’s brow jumped as the gears in his head began to turn. “ Out of all the beautiful places we visited-You chose the U.S? What was there that you had to leave without an explanation?”

Namjoon stared at Jungkook’s eyes not in a malicious sense, just a habit when trying to figure out a solution or, in this case, a missing clue to the reason his little brother hopped up and left.

“Twinkats (Twinkies),” Jimin laughed nervously. “ I bet his suitcase is full of them.”

Sadly, Jimin’s fairy charm wouldn’t work this time. Jungkook is drowning in deep waters, and there’s no salvage coming for miles; at this rate, Jungkook had two options: tell the truth, orrrr, run away with his loving wife in his arms.

Not gonna lie; Jungkook leaned towards the second option, but the fates had another plan.

”Hyung! Hyung! Namjoon-Hyungie!!” Taehyung screamed bloody murder, sprinting downstairs minus jumping the last five steps. ” Her ankle is purple!”

Taehyung paused, breathing heavily in front of the kitchen where the interrogation is being held, accompanied by a woman injured cradled in his arms, more worried about him dropping than her throbbing ankle.

Taehyung had the room’s undivided attention, and Jungkook’s enviousness scowl; his wife was clinging on to another man like a baby koala to its mother but had it been him, she would scratch his eyes out.

Let's not mention the fact! It seems like she's only wearing a shirt, and guess who the owner is, not him!

” Who-”

”What-”

”Why”

” How!?”

Before getting into details about the hyung's reaction to their new houseguest, let's first take a detour to Prince Taehyung mini rescue adventure.

A good hour in, Taehyung woke up from the best nap of his life to beautiful damsel sniffles and tears. The sweetheart asked what was wrong and nodded as the damsel explained, coming to realize she was in distress. Prince Taehyung aided the beauty with new clothes and tied a red ribbon into her hair….beacause he thought it would look pretty (Shrugs).

However, her ankle injury required a different source of help, so who else to ask but his favorite Hyung? But he couldn't find Yoongi in his room, so he decided to ask Namjoon instead.

Back to the original story

Taehyung explains the truth unconsciously, throwing his little brother under the bus.

Jin’s eye twitched as he peered at Jungkook, who was attempting to slip out of the kitchen. ” You little sh-!”

Let's just say Jin didn't nearly beat Jungkook almost half to death with a rice paddle while shouting numerous insults to bruise a thousand men’s pride in a second.

It went silent after Jin banished Jungkook to the beach house a few feet from the house until he wanted to see his face again. Namjoon took it upon himself to introduce the gang.

You politely shared a warm hello but wished nothing more to go home.

[voidsentprinces]

I am seeing some weird defensiveness in the community lately so, I thought I’d write a little something up on my thoughts regarding it. Because though I love Final Fantasy XIV, my experience getting into it seems to begun to echo through the influx of WoW Refugees coming. So before I go forward let me say, I enjoy FFXIV. I think Shadowbringers is the best MMORPG story, I’ve ever been through. That being said, Heavensward was over hyped for me and Stormblood might be slightly worse than ARR for dividing its focusing among two separate revolutions. One which takes up a sizeable chunk of the game and doesn’t impact it until precisely the penultimate quest before the end of the main Stormblood MSQ. That being said, I have like 50 Million Alts and am planning an OC AU Comic to be posted eventually. With that out of the way let me say my peace:

I am glad, there is a surge of new players in FFXIV but like...ARR is still a hurdle. The story time meanders, it rarely finds focus and it feels very monster of the week up until the very end and not every player is going to wait or want to wait for that whole “It gets better later” spiel. If a game doesn’t grab a player within its first few hours, its its own fault. Another wave of new MMOs doing something different is on its way. Between New World and Ashes of Creation, the MMO Market is about to be bombarded with potential once more. After Endwalker, ARR is gonna have to be polished and shifted even more to compensate because the stagnation of the last twenty odd years ain’t cutting it no more. MMORPGs gonna have to sink or swim. No matter how much I like this game, I am not going to be writing home about how surprising the twist behind the ambush before Ifrit was. Or that same story beat is used in quick succession for Laurentius and again for Tiduslayer also being an imposter or for Thancred being possessed by Lahabrea or how it turns out the Inquisitor is also an imposter spy.

Like ARR has one twist beat and it is always that someone is a spy or isn’t who they say they are and it never refreshens it. By the end of Post-ARR its the same story beat they used for Ungust and that’s like Hours of Content that amounts to, “Yeah so, here’s another person who isn’t who they say they are.” Final Fantasy XIV is a fantastic game and all, but the incoming population shouldn’t be expected to stick around especially if we as community keep hyping up, “Oh it gets better in Heavensward” or “Oh Shadowbringers is where its at”. You set the expectations too high and they’re going to expect the second coming of Christ and as we saw with Cyberpunk 2077 or No Mans Sky or hell who remembers Spore? You put too much stock in something it is never, ever going to deliver on that promise.

I came to FFXIV during WoW Legion which is turning out to be the last good thing that MMO has done. And the grind, the overused story beats, and the world did not warm itself to me. It wasn’t until BFA that I actually broke into FFXIV and the only reason I broke through ARR is because I had already done the same thing with Dark Souls. A game about banging your head against a wall until it submits itself in defeat out of pity. Pretty sure general population didn’t get into Dark Souls either.

Point is, I am starting see a lot of defensiveness when a WoW Refugee comes over and isn’t instantly enamored with FFXIV and goes to try something else. If someone is turned off by something and goes to do something else they aren’t worst for it and they didn’t personally break into your house and steal your pets. They’re giving valid criticisms as to why it just didn’t connect with them. No one should have to get use to a look or a story. The story and look should be there to draw them in. Serve as a way to hook them and if it doesn’t there is little you can do about it.

And actually now that I think of it, I feel the need to quote a game critic talking about Dark Souls that I feel holds true for FFXIV experience and how the community seems to have to hint at it getting better at certain story beats later on:

“Now, I never reviewed Dark Souls because other titles were out and my playtime was limited, and every time I sat down to it, it was like walking into a dark shed full of rakes, immediately treading on one and getting blatted in the face. Other people with more time on their hands started telling me it was the greatest thing since tummy-rubs, so I'd go back in the shed thinking, "Well, maybe there was just the one rake," before BLAT in the face again!

So I left it for a while, but this week with plenty of free time in my schedule, I thought to myself, "Last chance! I'll just keep tanking the rakes and maybe I'll somehow become really psychotically into being rake-faced just in time to be prepared for the sequel." And I'll be blatted in the face with a rake if that isn't kind of what happened. I've been raking myself all week right up to bedtime, I'm at risk of going blind!

You see, I resisted Dark Souls partly because people kept telling me, "It's good once you're used to it" and I've always held that the same thing can be said about being boiled alive, so I'd ask them to explain why it's good and they'd reply, "Ooh, we can't tell you. You'll just have to find out for yourself." And then I'd say, "Shut up or fuck off, ideally both, in either order!" But then after watching a decent Lets Play of the game, gone over the wiki a few times and a six week preparation with a team of advisors and physical trainers, I was able to break through the wall. And I suppose that's the first failing of Dark Souls; that you need the fucking Cliff's Notes to get into it.”

Final Fantasy XIV A Realm Reborn treads the same road and is unfortunately the entry point in the series and not everyone is built to do the grind all over again after coming from another MMO. Heavensward is an okay story, the aether currents if you’re not an altoholic like me are irritating to track down especially if, like me, you pick up flying to finish exploring a zone. Stormblood leaves much to be desired from the way it sort of forces Lyse down your throat to the way Hien just sort of goes about thing a little too pragmatically to be called a hero and doesn’t enamor any more confidence during Yotsuyu’s amnesia arc. Shadowbringers is the moment the story becomes about you. Which is kind of strange in the context that an MMO should make you feel like you are the central character and WoW’s greatest failing is in that the world changes about you and you have little say in how things actually unfold. It is a difficult balance to find but one Shadowbringers has done beautifully.

But again, to have to drag yourself through a two expansions to get to the actual goods while having the ever present need of FOMO to be with your friends. ARR certainly isn’t doing the influx any favors.

I am happy our community is welcoming and that there is a sizeable group of people sticking with it til the good stuff. To expect everyone to immediately become entranced by this new world we’re being thrown into is a little silly.

I am sure no one I follow or who can see this is causing an uproar but hey it never hurts to just get it out my system. Oh hey and there’s only 3 months until Endwalker. Here’s hoping for another solid expansion folks. Be excellent to one another even those who only stick around for five minutes and then leave the game for something else.

[saintheartwing]

Breaking Dawn, Part Four:  HOLD ON HOPE

The entities of emotion were, to many a race, creation deities. They had beget many a species, including the Irken race, a race born from a union of Intelligence and Will.

And now the species born from Hope was poised to end the Irken race. High above the planet Irk, aiding the Resisty ships as countless others formed a blockade to cut off Irk from the rest of the galaxy, it appeared as though all of Irk's hopes laid in the Wing, the host to Hope, herself an Irken...

"Please." She insisted, clasping her hands together, getting on bent knee before the Meekrob race as the "lighties" hovered before her. The rest of the Resisty stood behind her, Lard Nar frowning slightly. He had had reservations originally about having her join his crew, but she'd proven invaluable, gentle, and above all, considerate. She had owed the Resisty a debt after they'd saved her life...and she'd repaid it time and time again. Now she asked for clemency...

"Can't we give them half a year?" Lard Nar finally asked. "...I don't like the idea of giving the Irkens much time, but just a few months to surrender?" He went on, waving his hands in the air. "It's only fair."

"Would THEY give YOUR race the same mercy?" The leader of the Meekrob growled in its ethereal voice. Sarong was not a kindly being by nature. "DID they give your race half a year to submit before they pitilessly invaded, foul little BUGS that they are?"

"...aren't we supposed to be better than the bugs?" A third voice spoke up, as they turned to see two people stepping off a teleportal pad, dusting themselves off. "The Massive's been moved. Sold. Fresh off the market and on it's way to a very, VERY happy customer."

"Well, THAT would put a smile on my face had I a face!" Sarong laughed. "...alright. I'll give the Irkens a MONTH to surrender to our blockade, to come over to our way of thinking. Get the message out." The phantom-esque glowing being demanded, turning his head to his people as they moved along with the Resisty to the communications relay. "I sincerely HOPE...for your people's sake...they do the smart thing and give in." Sarong told the Wing.

"I have faith that they will make the right choice in the end." The Wing said as she stood up, nodding firmly, moving majestically back to her quarters as she laid down on her bed, noticing her room's communication was going off. She picked up the phone, listening intently. "Yes?"

"...milady, it's me."

The Wing's eyes went wide as the Entity of Hope shimmered overhead. "Turn up the volume, quick." It asked.

"What's happening?"

"The worst, that's what. My friends tapped into your powers with the Exemplar rings. I NEED access to Hope. I need a way to break a hold that Two has over Earth's Avatar of Will, Dilbert Membrane. Otherwise he won't have a fighting chance and...and kids are gonna die."

"I'll be happy to assist, but what of the Entity of Will? Have you contacted it?"

"I don't know where it IS, only you, Compassion and Love are on my speed dial...I don't suppose any others have appeared that could be of help?"

"...the Entity of Corrupted Passion, Rage. He's appeared, but he...he won't help. Not yet. We need to have faith in Sude, who is still bonding with his own host."

"They need to hurry. YOU need to hurry."

"I'll do what I can. I must ask though...you'll need a deputy to assist you. Dib is the Pillar of Will on Earth, is he not?"

"And Gaz is Rage, yes. And you wanna know if there's one for Hope on the Base Planet? Yes. And you know him."

"Who?"

"Skoodge."

The Wing chuckled. "Oh, Skoodge, that dear little soldier. Such a cheery soul. Always looking forward, always devoted. Yes...yes, I don't think we need to worry, Frequency..."

The Wing and Entity of Hope, Psyche, smiled.

"ALL WILL BE WELL.”

Dib paced around in front of his classroom, sighing as he held his hands behind his back, chewing his lip. The Principal had announced that everyone was to leave the school building in an orderly fashion, one class at a time due to a bomb scare.

Naturally, everyone thought Dib or his sister had something to do with it. Mostly because Zim and his weird "cousin", Skoodge, wasn't in class to be pointed and hissed at. M"Alright. I am about to tell you the explanation but if I know you all...and I DO..."

He rolled his eyes at this. "You're all so ignorant you won't believe it. So here goes. A psychotic alien forced a magical kind of ring on me and my sister. He turned us into Manchurian agents that would have decimated the school around lunchtime due to a trigger he put in us. I'm still not entirely sure why. But you aren't buying ANY of that, are you?"

All of the class looked at each other, blinked, and most of them broke out into laughter. Gretchen just sighed, leaning back in her chair, head hung low as Dib sighed and pinched the space between his eyes, chewing on his lip again. "...all right, fine. Nevermind. Moot point, anyhow." God they're all IDIOTS! I'm surrounded by ID! I! OTS!

"Moot point indeed." A voice, filled with snarling rage, a faint laugh lingering in the air called out.

KRUCHA-THROOOOOM! The wall was practically shattered as Two barreled through it, encased in a red energy aura, slamming Dib through the wall on the other side, windows and wall shattering. Soon the class, in fact, the whole school was watching as Dib was sent sprawling across the football field of the High Skool, Two standing tall, fists clenched as red energy rippled from his body.

"Ah, RAGE." Two laughed. "The "Passion" turned dark just like "Diligence" became "Avarice"! A step up, in my humble opinion. See, unlike Miyu, who's off to visit my daddy dearest here in town, I don't "want it all". Nah. I think smaller. I'll just settle for my existence restored to stability as your world is transformed into MINE."

He leapt through the air, fist flying, but Dib managed to roll out of the way, Two growling angrily. "Forgot, I gave you until after lunch to have most of your will back...and I DO suppose stripping any chance you have of fighting back against me would be cheating." Two mused as Dib leaped to his feet, pointing his ring at Two.

"GO!" He yelled out.

Tiny little sparks jutted out, wisps of green slipping to the ground...but nothing. Nothing happened.

"Then again..." Two laughed, his knee going squarely into Dib's gut, knocking Dib to the football field's grass below as he cracked his neck before delivering ANOTHER kick to Dib's side, "I also have kept you from using your ring. So it's hardly a fair fight. I LIKE these odds."

THWUH-THWUCK! Dib was rolled over onto his side as Two knelt down, grabbing his throat. "I...am going to beat you so...so...badly. I'll make this last. And then, after I've stopped by this lovely Chinese restaurant in town for some noodles..." The alien leered, his golden eyes glittering like a dark fire. "I'm going to come back, have you and your sister burn this whole place down with everyone in it, and make sure you're conscious through it all. See, I WAS going to strip your consciousness from your body after this, but frankly...I think me leaving you helpless, trapped inside your own body has a certain poetic CRUELTY to it, wouldn't you say?"

He sniggered darkly, throttling Dib with his clawed hands. "Ooh, I LOVE me when I'm NASTY."

KRA-THROOMP! Two was knocked clean through the air as Gaz lowered the bench she'd carried from the end of the football field, folding her arms down at Dib. "Get up, you idiot. If ANYBODY'S gonna kick your ass, it's me and me alone."

"Thanks, Gaz!" Dib said, laughing with relief as he stood up and made to hug his dear sister, arms stretching wide. I-"

"If you get REMOTELY sentimental I'm feeding you your own nose." Gaz said swiftly, Dib shutting up and turning to face Two as he stood up, nursing a bleeding head as he frowned at them.

"Gaz...almost forgot about you. You know..." He rubbed his chin. "...you look so much like my great aunt, at least, from what the old photo albums showed of her. How'd she die again? Lab accident?"

Gaz turned pale at this. Not with fear, though. This was pure, undiluted grief running through her as Two dusted himself off.

How does he know about Mom? Dib thought.

It had been an ordinary day. Well...as ordinary as life with Prof. Membrane GETS. Peggy Membrane was listening to him speak about his latest invention in his laboratory as Dib, age 7, and Gaz, age 5, stood nearby in the Professor's considerably larger-on-the-inside-than-it-was-the-outside garage laboratory was lighted up.

"How uh...how does...this...um..." Dib asked again as Prof. Membrane strode by him, a strange, bulbous helmet atop his head as he fiddled around with a screwdriver and a control pad in his long, black-gloved hands. He was wearing his large labcoat...he ALWAYS wore his labcoat in the lab, but never in the house, thank God. Peggy always said it smelled too much like plastic.

"Compression technology." The professor laughed. "Shrinking something very, very, VERY big and compacting it into a pocket dimension, I'M A

GENIUS!" He hovered in the air, lightning splitting the air around him as Peggy quickly snatched Gaz away from an accidental bolt that almost singed her hair. "Sorry, I've GOT to be more careful about where I gloat, my dear." Matthew Membrane told "Pegster", taking the helmet off and motioning for his family to come by a table with several vats nearby labeled "DANGEROUS: EXPLODING CHEMICAL COMPOUNDS! DO! NOT! OPEN! SUPER-SERIOUSLY!" written over them.

"What's that?" Peggy inquired, pointing at his latest invention, what appeared to be some kind of mechanical clip for the hair. "You told me your invention was SMALL and unassuming but...you DO know somebody's already invented these Bluetooth things, right?" Peggy laughed.

"My dear, it's a device that lets me speak any language! Even to animals!" Prof. Membrane laughed, pulling on a lever nearby as several cages filled with animals popped up from beneath the floor, all of them looking at the family.

"Ooh, big kitty!" Gaz said, pointing at the tiger as Dib looked at a snake. It began to hiss, it's eyes almost...glowing?

Prof. Membrane quickly led Dib away from the cage, the snake cursing under its breath as Membrane held the strange, segmented clip up, giving it to Peggy. "Put it in your hair. It will transmit signals to your brain, to the part centering around language recognition. All barriers are broken down INSTANTLY! The aftereffects have been odd...something of a shared link...I talked with that bunny yesterday and after that I kept thumping my foot against the ground for half an hour."

Peggy put the clip in her hair and stared at said bunny as it chuckled. "Ooh, have I got a carrot for YOU!" It said, giggling immaturely.

"OH!" Peggy clasped the sides of her face with her hands, gasping. "You little!" She waved her finger at it and took the clip off. "Maybe I should go find a nice CAT or something to talk to." She told her husband. "Here you go, Matt."

She tossed it back to him and he stepped back to catch it...

And he went knocking into a plank that had a small vat of "Exploding Chemical Compounds" placed on the other end. Like a catapult, the small vat was launched through the air at a stunned Peggy as Dib looked up in horror, eyes widening, Gaz's mouth beginning to open in a gasp as Matthew Membrane watched most of his wife become a sloughed pile of flesh...

He never took off the lab coat after that...there was always a tiny bit of Peggy still lingering on the edges of his collar...

A tiny bit of Peggy lingering in his heart.

In ALL of their hearts...

"Do you know what rage TRULY is? The most powerful kind of hatred ISN'T born from ignorance or prejudice or from a perceived threat. Oh no." The alien waved a claw in the air. "Those are Fear in disguise. The real fire that fuels the burning hatred of rage...is personal loss. That's why I wear the red."

Two held his fist up as Gaz and Dib readied themselves, Gaz shaking angrily. "You lost your mother, you must have felt so unhappy, so ANGRY. You didn't understand. Why, why did it have to happen? And I think you blamed your father...and a tiny bit of you blamed your brother, because neither one of them were strong enough to help."

Gaz opened her mouth to say something, but then closed her eyes and clenched her fists, holding them tightly to her sides. "...that's...it wasn't MY fault...somebody had to...somebody had to take the blame. I LOVED...her." She whispered out. "...I LOVED her so...so much..."

"...my own mother is slowly dying. WILL die if my world isn't returned." Two told them softly.

"Then you know how I felt. Then you know that if I had the power...I would have done anything, ANYTHING to get her back." Gaz asked in her dark, accusing tone. "I have that power now...you FORCED it on me, but with you dead and gone, and me with this power..."

She held up her ring, grinning coldly. "I WILL find a way. I'm smart, and I'm tough...and there's not a kid in the world who wouldn't burn it all down if it meant getting back his mommy."

"Oh, Gaz..." Two whispered softly, almost sadly. "You couldn't have described me any better."

And with that, he launched himself at them, claws held high.

...

...

...

... "So..." Nick inquired, his county-boy accent thick and homely as he sat down on the pink, fluffy couch with the squat Irken Invader Skoodge at Zim's house, Zim having gone off to the Radioshack to pick up "supplies" as GIR did his own "private thing" in the laboratory. "If Mr. Billingsly is the sleaziest, number one backstabbing lover in all the town, why's he defending this gal off the street? Reckon it don't make no sense." He asked Skoodge, who was, before you ask, NOT in any disguise.

Oh no, Invader Skoodge, short, fat and cuddly Invader Skoodge, was "au naturale", ladies and gents...well, except for the clothes he was wearing, his usual maroon Invader's attire with that mysterious splotch lingering on his stomach.

"It's because before he got amnesia, William Billingsly was the sleaziest number-one LAWYER in Dawson County!" Skoodge explained, waving a gloved hand in the air as Nick passed the chocolate-covered popcorn GIR had made over to him, Skoodge tossing a handful into his mouth.

He liked having the human over. It got so boring, just being stuck in Zim's basement. This way he could talk about human soap operas like "Kissy-Kissy-Boo-Boo" AND wrestling programs like "Skull Squisher" all he wanted and with somebody who wasn't too "busy" or "stupid" to care about either one. Plus, in the event he ever said too much about Irken culture, he'd just erase Nick's memories with a little mini-squid Zim had developed to be attached to people's heads.

...again.

Yeah, he'd tested out a LOT of things on Nick and-oh. Skoodge grimly frowned as Nick took off his cap, scratching at the...

He couldn't bear to look at it. Skoodge looked away, almost puking up the popcorn he'd gobbled down as Nick decided to use the bathroom, promising to come back with soda from the kitchen as Skoodge sighed, turning his head slowly back to the television. Nice kid, that Nick. Stupid, yeah, but nice. Even before what Zim had done to him.

...that had been...

Skoodge was a trained and experienced invader. He did not ever take his job personally, and he understood that Dib had his own duty to save the planet just as he had a duty to help Zim take it over. It was, on an intellectual level, sad. In another time and place, he might have been capable of being friends with the humans. It was somewhat sad he never could be. There was a lot about this world he liked. And he was beginning to fall into an enjoyable rhythm, just staying here on Earth, hanging out.

Maybe...one day...maybe this would feel like his real home. Maybe one day he'd fine that thing he needed to make him want to stay forever. Maybe one day he WOULD be friends, and there wouldn't be a need for this back-and-forth, and they could just...BE. He was fine with waiting. He was good at that...the waiting and the hoping.

Heck, truth be told, even ZIM was beginning to fall into a steady pattern. A new plan every week instead of every day, and there was a faint camaraderie between he and the Dib-human. Sometimes, Skoodge, he could swear Zim LIKED being continuously beaten. LIKED being stuck here, constantly plotting.

Heck, GIR liked Earth plenty, Skoodge thought to himself as he snuck over to the linen closet and pulled it open, a monitor revealing what was occurring in the laboratory downstairs. GIR was dancing around, a disco ball hanging overhead as lights sprayed around, the little robot posing and singing as he strutted his stuff.

Can't read my, can't read my, No he can't read my Poker Face!

"She aint' got to love nobody!" GIR sang out, waving his butt in the air before he whipped around, holding his arms behind his head and shaking his groove thing.

Can't read my, can't read my, No he can't read my Poker Face!

Yep, nothing changed around here, Skoodge thought to himself as he closed the door, returning to the couch and turning back to the television. The state of normalcy: sitting and waiting for something to happen, and usually, it did. In the end. Things tended to work out in the end, Skoodge thought to himself as he popped some more chocolate popcorn in his mouth. He just had to keep where he was. Stay happy. Keep believing...

He stiffened suddenly, as a voice called out to him, a faint accent lingering in it as he slowly turned his head, looking upon a blue-furred being that had stepped into the living room. It wore a blue cap with a strange white symbol on it's head, and blue shorts to match with a special ring in one hand...a ring with a blue symbol upon it that was being offered to him. To HIM.

"Skoodge of Irk." Frequency said cheerily. "Stoic ol' Skoodge. You have the ability to feel great hope."

He put the ring in Skoodge's hand and Skoodge slowly slipped it on, eyes widening. It felt so natural...like he'd been missing a limb all his life, forced to wear a prosthetic but now gaining back his old hand...

Meanwhile, a maroon-eyed, green-skinned being, Invader Zim himself, was walking back from Radio Shack to his house, his arms filled with sacks full to the brim of technical material he needed for his latest plan.

"Brilliant, BRILLIANT! I'll transform pigs into half-human slaves, rounding up humans and overriding their genetic code with my own glorious Irken DNA!" Zim laughed to himself. "Irken and human fused together and at my command, I'll build a new Irken Empire right here on Planet Earth!"

He blinked suddenly, frowning as he put down his bags and scratched his head. "Wait. I'm TALKING TO MYSELF...vrik na tishanti!" He cursed. "I'm becoming too much like the Dib-Stink." He sighed and reached into his maroon outfit, pulling out a small notepad from within. "And have I already done something like this lately? Better check the list."

He took out a pen that popped up from his PAK, flipping through the notebook. "Hmm. Fiddle with gravity in school...launching chickens into outer space...replacing organs with STUFF...launching COWS into outer space...launching GHOST INSPECTORS into outer space...oh. "Turn dogs into dog-people". Ah, DOGS, not pigs. Yep, this'll work!"

"Observation: You always had a knack for such ideas. Insanely brilliant...they called you mad." A metallic, yet distinctly feminine voice rang out, making Zim whip his head in its direction as he saw a robotic female approach him, black-outfit making her look VERY slim, with a red helm over her head and tipless white gloves showing off almost Irken-like long clawed fingers. "But madness is merely genius to a small mind, and when compared to you, most organics have small minds."

"...what ARE you? Explain yourself!" Zim demanded angrily, pointing at her. "Tell Zim!"

"Explanation: I have an offer for you." The woman said. "I am Miyu. I ask this..."

She held up a ring in her finger...a faint orange glow to it.

"Join my corps."

...

...

...

...The kids of the school were watching, their teachers unable to get them to leave as they saw Gaz and Dib struggling with Two, who kept flinging them around the football field, kicking and punching them whenever they got close enough. Dib had managed to bust one of Two's cheek bones, and Gaz had delivered, WAS delivering-

"YOOOOOWWW-OOOOOOH-HOOOO-HOOOO-HOOOO!"

Ooooch. Gaz fought DIRTY. Two staggered back, flailing out with his ring as a medieval torture rack attached itself via energy construct to Gaz, trying to stretch her out as Dib struggled to break her free, Two cradling his sore crotch. "Y-you dirty little...GAAAAH..."He muttered out.

"You're just going to stand there and watch them suffer like that?" Gretchen asked the others as Ms. Bitters calmly looked up from her copy of "Beyond Good and Evil", "harrumphed" and went back to reading. The rest of the class looked around at each other, almost hesitant.

"We can't just stand here and WATCH!" Gretchen insisted angrily, waving her arms in the air. "We've gotta DO something! ANYTHING to help them!"

"That thing can shoot finger-beams. What're WE gonna do?" The Letter M asked, scratching his head as Poonchy nodding in agreement.

"Oooooh. He just made a shark." Zita called out as Dib yelled for his life, climbing one of the football poles as Two danced in victory, Gaz being beaten up by a cheer-leading team he'd summoned forth with his ring, Gaz swearing to rip off Two's head and make him eat it later. Somehow.

She could do it, you know! She TOTALLY could!

"GRAAAAH!" Gretchen tugged at her hair, exiting the room and stomping out into the hallway-

Running into a beautiful-looking being who was standing by the Guidance Counselor. Her eyes widened as the Guidance Counselor nodded at the angel.

"This is her."

"I'm surprised you figured it out."

"I spent years around the Entity of Love. I know souls filled with it. And her love for Dib has marked her."

The Beautiful Angel stepped forward, putting something in Gretchen's hand. "You won't remember us. Nobody in this school will remember us, my friend will make sure of that. But when the time comes, you'll know what to do inside your heart." The Beautiful Angel crooned, taking Gretchen's cheek and kissing her on the forehead before leaving, Gretchen moving the ring in her hand to her pocket as the Guidance Counselor took her shoulder.

It was as if a veil that had been placed over her eyes was ripped away. "Wh-what was I doing?" She asked, scratching her head as Mr. Thildari moved her back to the class.

"I THINK you were watching THAT." Mr. Thildari said cheerily, pointing outside the opened-up walls as two forms descended from the sky on blue wings, Dib gasping as a green blaze swirled around him, power coursing through his body. Now he was returned to his once-heroic form, standing tall and proud, his Will reasserted over the ring as Two snarled furiously, turning on Frequency.

"You! And...and YOU?" He gasped, seeing Skoodge as Skoodge smiled over in a surprised Dib and Gaz's direction.

"Power levels at 104%...119%...124%..." Dib's ring called out as Skoodge gave Dib the best thumbs up he could.

"Don't worry, Dib-Thing. Hope's wings have always lifted Will higher than it could ever soar. Trust me...All will be well." Skoodge spoke kindly, comfortingly.

And did he look IMPRESSIVE. A cloth covering the top of his head and forehead, with the white symbol of Hope emblazoned upon it. His outfit was vaguely Shamanic...long robe-like shirt to wear, exposing his arms, tipless gloves, plain, simple...and above all, he looked so peaceful and comforted. So SMUG, almost.

"So you've betrayed us?" Two growled at Frequency.

"What can I say, dude?" Frequency laughed, holding his ring up with Dib and Skoodge. "Except...COWABUNGAAAAAA!"

With that, an ENORMOUS blue wave of energy shot forth from Frequency's ring, formed like a tidal wave that SLAMMED into Zerinim Two Jookiba with all the fury of an ocean, as Dib now launched his OWN shark at Two, the pointy nose JAMMING into Two's chest, making him gasp in pain as he was sent spiraling through the air, knocked around by the wave...

Skoodge leaped forward, forming an enormous pair of hands that suddenly pinned Two to the ground, a pair of hands that rapidly became attached to the energy construct of a professional wrestler.

"And now Rodrick has his evil twin Rodrick in a Leg Hold!" Skoodge laughed, the wrestler slamming Two into the ground over and over before tossing him through the goal posts.

"TOUCHDOWN!" Gaz laughed, racing towards Two and kicking him squarely in the face, knocking him through the air and towards the school, right in the direction of Ms. Bitters.

"Huh?" She looked up just in time.

KA-THRUNCKA!

Everyone let out a simultaneous "Ewwwww" and stepped away as Two stood up, dusting himself off and looking down beneath him at what he'd landed on. He stuck his worm-like tongue out, stepping off and watching as Ms. Bitters' feet curled up, the rest of her body melting away as she let out a final sigh of "What a woooorld".

"It's over." Dib said, cracking his knuckles as Skoodge, Frequency, Gaz and he approached Two, who growled and reached into his vest, pulling out a small capsule-like computer.

"You'll never control Dib again, not with ME here, brah." Frequency proclaimed. "And you ain't gonna get to GAZ, either. We've spoken with the Big Bad behind it himself and he's given the ALL clear. Try to take her over again, you get a wipe out!"

"No. It's just BEGINNING." Two growled out. "EMERGENCY TEMPORAL SHIFT."

With a WHOOMP, he was gone, vanished from sight as the class looked from the wreckage to Dib, who scratched the back of his head. Were they FINALLY going to believe him now about the aliens thing?

"I guess...you're all wondering about all of that, right?" He asked.

"It's a gang war, you see." Mr. Thildari said quickly, stepping forward and waving a hand in the air. "Dib informed me that members of a gang who were INSANELY jealous of our school since it's so amazing, especially the clean bathrooms..."

"Oh yeah, yeah."

"Absolutely.

"Of course." Everyone agreed, nodding their heads.

"So they prepared to carry out an attack and decided to beat up Dib because he was the most noticeable of us all with his big head. Luckily Dib's friends here were skilled enough to fend them off with the fancy technological equipment that Prof. Membrane loaned his son and his friends in the event something strange like this ever happened. Isn't that right, Gaz?" Mr. Thildari wanted to know.

Gaz shrugged. "Yeah. Whatever."

"Oh, yes, YES." Gretchen said quickly. "Oh, Dib and I have talked about this before when we're alone! Some people have mace in their pockets, he's got super-tech!" She lied with a smile, quickly putting one arm around his and grinning.

"Er...yeah! Big, bad, rival gangs! It was all a rival gang." Dib decided quickly, gulping nervously. "DEFINITELY not aliens! And these guys are just in costumes cuz they were going to a party at my house later this afternoon. Costume party. Really private affair and stuff. Right, Gaz?"

"Yeah. Costume party. I mean, you can see the zipper!" Gaz chuckled, pointing at Skoodge's teeth as he grinned.

"Well, I think Gretchen had best inform the principal of our little...predicament...with your teacher." Mr. Thildari told the class. "And I think that perhaps I should drive you home, Dilbert, Gazeline...it's been a long, long day and I think we could all use a break, especially you two..."

...

...

...

... "I can't BELIEVE they bought it. I can't believe TWO bought it! One of the worst performances of my career and he didn't doubt it for a second." Frequency laughed, slapping his knee as Skoodge poured everyone some soda using GIR, who opened up his mouth. Gaz then closed GIR up and moved him over her chips, pulling down on an arm as nacho cheese was squirted down onto her snack. "I don't even know what the Entity of Rage LOOKS like! Ha! This is off...the...HOOK!"

"Hope, huh?" Dib inquired, looking Skoodge over as he calmly sipped some Diet-Poopsi, nodding sagely.

"Yes. Our Exemplar Rings gain power from the Entities of Emotions, and I was meant to wield Hope the way you were meant to wield Will, and Gaz was meant to wield Rage." Skoodge explained.

"Meant to? Entities?" Dib asked.

"What...ARE you?" Zim inquired, eyes widening at the ring in Miyu's hand.

"I suppose I should explain." Frequency admitted, sitting in a chair nearby as GIR clapped his hands together, beaming.

"It's STORYTIME?" GIR asked cheerily, hopping up and down.

"Uh...yep."

"Ooh, does it involve monkeys?"

Skoodge snorted, looking over in Dib and Gaz's directions as Gaz growled. "What's THAT supposed to mean?"

Frequency laughed and chuckled slightly, holding out his ring as an series of images began to form for them all, GIR's eyes widening. "Oooooooh. Laser liiiiights..."

"In the beginning, there was just one universe planned for creation. What happened...was something quite different. There was a...change...in the nature of the cosmos." Mr. Thildari explained calmly.

"Instead of ONE universe being made, a multiverse was created." Miyu went on. "Endless parallel worlds, similar in some ways, bizarrely different in others, were formed. All were occupying the same space, but vibrating at entirely different frequencies."

"Like two cars parked side by side in the same parking lot...or sometimes right on top of one another, with nobody realizing." The guidance counselor suggested.

"And there were entities, beings of INCREDIBLE power, that watched over all of this and spread the power of emotions through the universe." Miyu murmured. "The first was entity of Life, Sude, of the Seraphi race."

Zim blinked. "The Seraphi?" Wait, the Irken race had SENT invaders in the direction of the soc-called home of the Seraphi, the planet Allforce. What had happened to them? Had they becme dragon chow? They'd never heard from the fools again...

"I know what you're thinking. The race did not perform things such as that. They were the kind who offered laughter and joy up to their God instead of blood rituals. They simply sent Irken laughter to Sude."

Zim raised a non-existent eyebrow. "...wait...you mean?"

FIVE HUNDRED YEARS AGO...

"WE'LL TICKLE YOU FOREVER!" One brown and yellow-horned draconic being exclaimed as he held a giant feather up from a box, the tied-up Irken nearby gulping as his friends were held in place. "Prepare to enter the unbearable world of COOCHY-COOCHY-COO!"

PRESENT...

"ANNNNYHOW, the next was the entity of Passion, Chulainn. He's turned all nasty and dark when he became "Rage". Frequency went on with a sad expression flickering across his face. "Poor dude. Then we got the pretty lil' entity of Hope, Psyche. She's cute, in a weird way." He added, tilting his head to the side. "Kinda...looks like a butterfly. I think she IS that, a big, alien butterfly."

"And I spent many years conversing with the Entity of Love before I came here." Mr. Thildari explained, putting one hand to his chest. "Jourmungdr sent me here to the Base Earth to keep an eye on the planet and those within. It said this place was too important to be ignored. I've been keeping up a guise, with the Entity taking my place back at my home planet without anybody noticing."

"This world...this MUDBALL is...actually important?" Zim scratched his head. "How?"

"EVERYTHING in the multiverse stems from the material found in this base Earth." Skoodge interjected. "Remember when he talked about the "parking lot" analogy? Think of your world as an original model of car, and every other car in the lot is a rip-off or copy of that original." Skoodge went on as visible models of the many parallel Earths floated around.

"Without this world, there won't BE any other parallel Earths. No more stories of Zim and Dib and Gaz and GIR. This world is the cornerstone upon which the multiverse of Universe I-Z spins..." Miyu went on, gesticulating in the air. "Within this world...there's the POTENTIAL to remake the world that was tragically lost."

"They want to bring it back. If one tried to sacrifice enough of this world, Earth B-S will return. The people of this world will be, well...they get folded into the historical fabric. Become reborn anew, I guess you could say..." Frequency admitted.

"I'll DIE?"

"Answer: You'll become BETTER." Miyu informed him waving a clawed finger in the air. "You will reach your physical and mental peak, and will become a being both feared, loved and admired across the universe. And it is not just you. GIR, Minimoose, they'll be better too. People will respect you, Zim, be amazed at what you've become. I would never not lie..."

She gently took his shoulder, smiling at him as the visor on her helmet lifted up, and Zim's eyes widened in surprise. "To my own father."

"I...I need to...think about this." Zim mumbled.

"Statement: I shall do you one better." Miyu informed him as he pocketed his ring. "I will take you to your wife. I think you'll be more than pleasantly surprised."

Zim's eyes bugged out, mouth flopping open. "Zim has a WHAT?"

[just-jordie-things]

Motel California - Stiles Stilinski

word count: 3804 warnings: swearing and sort of attempted suicide summary: the motel california was famous for their suicide records.  what isn’t as well known, is that they’re also known for driving supernaturals to the brink of insanity

The Motel California was a place of horrendous past, and it proved this time and time again.  With hunters who have been given the bite and refuse to live the life of abomination, and regular people who are overcome by themselves and couldn’t bear it any longer.  It was famed for having the most suicides,, and the number just kept ticking upwards.

You’d spent the night coaxing Isaac out from under his bed, eventually having to use a flare to get his attention.  It had taken nearly an hour of pleading to get him to snap out of it, and even then convincing him to get into bed and go to sleep.  You stayed with him until you were certain that was at peace, then went off to find the others.

Stiles had texted you, saying Boyd had a psychotic break and nearly drowned himself in the bathtub, but was fine now.  Allison had also texted you, something about an incident with Scott in the shower, you weren’t sure what had happened, but it didn’t seem as important.

“Stiles?” You called, roaming the balconies in search of any of your friends.  “Lydia? Allison?” You received no answer, and grew agitated that you were wandering alone.  This place gave you the creeps.  After a hasty search and a text to your friends, you paused, and tried to catch them by scent, but you couldn’t pick any of them up.  And you’d made sure you knew their scents by heart in case of emergency.

“Werewolf,” A voice growled, and you turned sharply to see a man standing there, not one you knew.  Your eyes were burning golden as you stared at him.  He was tall, and well built, but the primary thing you noticed was the hunting rifle he held in his hands.

“I’m-” You blinked harshly to get your eyes to revert to their usual color, and took a few hesitant steps backwards.  The man cocked his gun threateningly and stepped closer to you.

“An abomination” He finished in a snarl, and you looked around frantically for anyone who could help you, but still, you were alone.

“Look I-”

“No one’s here to help you,” The hunter went on.  “No one here who would want to”

“Things have changed,” You pleaded for him not to harm you.  “I haven’t hurt anybody, I’d never hurt anybody” Panic began to settle in your chest as he aimed his gun towards you.

“You’re still a werewolf,” He uttered.  “Still a monster”

You were impaired by the word, your breath catching in your throat as you stumbled back just slightly.

“You’re rabid,” He stated.  “And I’m going to put you down”

“No-!”

But your cry came too late, and his gun shot you, right in the abdomen.  You doubled over, grasping at your shirt and stomach, choked gasps coming from your lips as your eyes widened.  Though the strangest thing happened, when you pulled your hands from the painful wound, no blood covered you.

“Wh-what-?” As you looked up to the hunter, he had vanished.  And the pain went away.  This motel was really getting on your bad side.  And with a growl, you took off in search of your friends.

“Where the hell is (y/n)?” Stiles practically demanded Lydia, but the banshee gave him  a pointed look, and he took a different tone.  “She should be here, where did she go?”

“She’s likely still with Isaac, it’ll be alright” Lydia answered.  Stiles’ brow furrowed and he shook his head.

“No, no it’s been nearly two hours it couldn’t have taken this long-”

“Stiles, I’m going to need you to stop freaking out and help me find Scott and Allison,” Lydia said.  “We need to make sure they’re not losing it like everyone else here.  (y/n) will be fine, she’s a werewolf, and she can hold her own”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded shakily.  “Yeah, you’re right, you’re right” He said, trying to get in the mindset Lydia seemed to be in.  (y/n) had proven time and time again that she could handle herself just fine, and didn’t need the help of others.

“After Boyd.. and Isaac, and Aiden…” Lydia trailed off, getting the chills just form the idea that something strange was going on here, but she couldn’t quite place what.  “I’m just… I’m worried, and I can’t quite put my finger on it,” She mumbled.  “I just feel like-”

“Lyd…” Stiles mumbled, eyes fixated on something, and the banshee turned to see what had taken his attention.  Her hands flew to her mouth as she saw Scott, surrounded by a puddle, holding a lit flare in his hand.

She couldn’t ignore the odor of gasoline.

“Oh- oh my God”

You couldn’t believe what had happened, how you’d survived that gunshot, or where the hunter that had shot you had gone.  Your mind became a haze of confusion and discomfort.

You weren’t aware that you’d been wandering until you realized how cold you were.  The autumn night breeze blew through the thin material of your shirt, and whipped your hair around.  Looking around, you realized you were higher than you were before, and no longer surrounded by railings and motel rooms.

It was dark outside, and being on the rooftop of the motel made you feel like you were in space, surrounded by the stars, and the sounds of the breeze.  You shut your eyes, allowing yourself a small smile.  

“This feels nice…” You mumbled, letting your legs carry you blindly.

“Good.  Glad while the rest of us are out searching for our friends, you’re out here having a good time!”

You turned to see Stiles had found you, and was clearly unhappy with you.

“Stiles, where’ve you been? I-I was looking for you” You told him, feeling relieved he was at least here now.

“Yeah.  Clearly” He spat back, and you physically winced, looking at him confusedly.  “Typical (y/n), never really wanting to be a part of things”

“What? What do you mean?” You asked, voice beginning to fail you.  “Stiles I was looking, there was a- a hunter-”

“Really, save it, I don’t care” Stiles said, heading back towards the stairs to go back into the building.

“Wait- no Stiles don’t-”

“I don’t get you (y/n)!” He snapped, and you were increasingly becoming more confused and hurt by his change in character.  “You just- you don’t fit in, with us, you’re a crooked piece of the puzzle- no, in fact, you’re a piece of a completely different puzzle!” He yelled exasperatedly.

“Stiles-” Your voice came out in a slight whimper, his words hit you hard, and you had no clue where this was coming from.  “Why’re you-”

“We just- we don’t work,” He said, staring down at you angrily.  Your mouth dropped open as your eyes begun to fill with tears.  “It’s never happening, we don’t fit”

It felt like he was talking about something much different now.

“Stop trying.  Never gonna happen (y/n), move on”

“Stiles,” You said quietly, wanting him to stop saying all these harsh things to you.  “Please, stop”

“Gladly” He spat, turning to leave again.  “Do us all a favor (y/n), and just go the fuck away”

With that he disappeared, leaving you alone to cry on the rooftop, in the cold.  Your arms wrapped around yourself in attempt for both warmth and comfort.  Sniffling and whimpering you looked around, but there was nothing but darkness around you.

You’d never felt a pain like this before.

“Here, bud,” Stiles said soothingly to Scott as he opened the door to the they were staying in.  “Why don’t you run a shower, I’ll figure out how to turn on the heat”

“Okay” Scott mumbled, wandering into the bathroom with slow movements.

“Are you good? I want to go check on (y/n), she should be back with the girls by now”

“Alright,” Scott replied with a nod, shutting the bathroom door.  “Good luck”

“Just… get some rest, alright? You really freaked me out” Stiles said through the door.

He never wanted to feel that fear again, watching his best friend nearly killing himself.

He made his way as quick as possible to where Lydia and Allison were staying, praying to God (y/n) stayed there and not in Isaac’s room.

When he got to the room, he didn’t think to text Lydia first to make sure they were still awake, instead rapping his fist on the door until she eventually opened it.

“Stiles, it is the middle of the night, I am tired, and I am ready to be done with this place-”

“Is (y/n) back?” He cut off the strawberry blonde’s rambling, but her face contorted in a tired confusion at his question.

“What? I thought she was staying with you?” She asked.

The goosebumps covering your skin were long forgotten as you sat on the edge of the building, looking down at the parking lot.  There were a few lights on outside, and a bright sign, although a few of the letters were burnt out.

You weren’t sure how long you’d sat there, but long enough to get used to the cold, and long enough to decide that you weren’t going back to your room.  Stiles had made it very clear that you weren’t wanted around them.  But you weren’t sure where to go from here.

Looking down at the pavement tree stories below you, something in your mind completely cleared, and you knew what you needed to do.

Unbeknownst to you, your eyes had been shimmering gold as you maneuvered yourself to stand up, still balancing on the edge of the building.

If this is… what he wanted…

You shut your glimmering eyes, fists clenching and releasing repeatedly.  Your nerves were completely on edge, but something told you this was right.

Do it… that something whispered.  Just take the step.

You swayed forward, eyes fluttering from the chilly wind, a few tears leaking out for other reasons.

And then the world went into slow motion.

“(y/n)!” A voice screamed, and a hand clasped around your arm so tightly you thought it might leave a bruise.  You were tugged back away from the edge of the building, and in a panic of confusion and fear, you were brought back to reality.

Glancing up quickly to see you had saved you from nearly killing yourself, a shaky sob of relief passed your lips.

“Stiles?”

“It’s okay oh-oh my God, you’re alright, it’s alright” He said, his hands framing your face as he looked you over.  Your bright eyes fading back to their usual color.

“Stiles-” You mumbled again but didn’t get the chance to say anything before he pulled you against him and hugged onto you tightly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, (y/n/n)” He kept petting your hair and squeezing your body.  “Are you alright? Are-are you okay?” He asked, pulling you back again to hold your face in his wobbly hands.

“Y-yeah yeah, yeah” You nodded your head rapidly.  “Let’s just- can we go inside?” You asked, stepping back from Stiles to wrap your arms around yourself.  He nodded, guiding you back to the stairs and taking you as quick as he could towards his and Scott’s room.

“Oh, here,” He shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it over your shoulders.  “There,” He sighed, still walking you to his room.  “You’ve got to be freezing, how long were you up there?”

“I dunno” You shrugged your shoulders as Stiles went digging in his pocket for the room key.  You held the jacket around you tighter to keep warm as he opened the door.

“Why don’t you just… get in bed, try to warm up,” He told you, shutting the door behind you as you padded in, kicking your shoes off before crawling into bed.  The shower was running, and you figured Scott was in there, but didn’t put much more thought into it.  Too busy wrapping yourself in the poor quality blankets.

Stiles was cursing under his breath, trying to get the heat to kick on while you were shivering.  He was clearly in an unstable state, frantically hitting buttons as he swore at it, eventually kicking at the machine when it didn’t work.

“Oh for fuck’s sake come on-!”

“Stiles,” You called softly, and he swiveled around as soon as you’d spoken.  “It’s fine, I’ll warm up” You told him.  He groaned, kicking it again before giving up.  He looked back to where you were laying, holding onto the pillow you were laying on, and sighed, wandering over to sit on the edge of the bed.  He tried to stay off the blankets, and just sit on the sheet, so that if you needed more covers you’d have them.

“You want to talk about it?” He asked as gently as he could, hesitantly reaching out and setting a hand on your shoulder.

“I… I don’t even know how” You replied, finding it hard to look him in the eyes.  “Can I… can I ask you something”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, brows drawing together at the question.  “Yeah of course”

“Did you come see me? On the roof?” You asked him.  “Like before you… you know”

“No,” Stiles shook his head.  “I had no idea where you were, I didn’t even think to check the roof… until I just figured why not, you had me really worried I didn’t know where you could’ve gone and-” He stopped abruptly, realizing his voice had raised and he was speaking too fast.  “And… this place is… I don’t even know, it’s been messing with all our uh… werewolf friends… and I just didn’t want it to mess with you too”

You stared at him for a moment, expressionless, before maneuvering yourself to sit up next to him.  It took you a moment to speak, not sure what to say, but Stiles kept his hand on your shoulder and was patient for anything you had to say.

“Well I…” You licked your lips anxiously as you remembered what best you could.  “I saw you- actually not you, I must have hallucinated or something, but it was you, and… and you made it very clear that you did not want me around” You gave out a bitter chuckle, but Stiles only showed worry.

“I did?” He asked, not understanding why you would hallucinate that, why the motel would put you in that state.

“Yeah, said… said you don’t get me, and I don’t fit in and… I’m a different puzzle” You began to mumble and Stiles’ concern only worsened.

“What do you mean? Different puzzle?” He asked, angling his body to completely face you, his hand falling to your back to rub in circles.  You shrugged, finally looking up at him, your eyes sad, and your expression plastered to hide your feelings.

“And then you left,” You said quietly, almost under your breath.  “And I…”

Stiles sighed, and you shut your mouth.  He seemed genuinely hurt by this, his eyes shutting and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.  Now it was you looking at him apprehensively.  You shrugged his hand off of your back, taking it in yours and grasping lightly.

“Don’t take it the wrong way, I know it wasn’t you, I know it was mind decieving me, this… this place”

“I know just-” Stiles scoffed to himself, dropping his other hand from his face.  “You were going to-”

“No,” You shook your head, shifting closer so you’d gain his attention.  “No I’m not- I wasn’t- “ You took a pause, and waited for him to look you in the eyes.  “I’m fine, it’s not going to happen again.  It wasn’t me, it was this place”

Before Stiles could say anything, the bathroom door opened, and out walked Scott in his pajamas.  He took one look at you and Stiles, and let out a sigh of relief, rushing over to scoop you up off the bed and hug you tightly.

“They found you, are you alright?” He asked, squeezing you once more before letting you go.  “Did you…?” He trailed off, but you knew what he meant.

“Yeah… you?” You asked, even though he reeked of gasoline.  He nodded his head, and you gave him a sad smile before hugging him again.  “You’re alright?”

“Much better, just want sleep now” He said, and you released each other.  “But I’m gonna go get more blankets from the front desk… you guys…?” He pointed between you and Stiles, and you both nodded your heads.

“Yeah- yeah we’re good” Stiles rushed out, and Scott headed for the door.

“Alright.  If I’m not back in twenty, come looking for me” He said, and you both agreed with him, and he left.

“You want something to sleep in?” Stiles asked, nodding to your tee shirt and jeans, though you were still wearing his jacket.  You shook your head, shuffling back into the bed and under the covers, pulling them tight around you to regain your warmth.

“No,” You hummed.  “I’m comfortable enough” Stiles nodded, and got up.  He wandered around the room, and you watched as he messed around on his phone, tried again with the heater, and eventually went to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth.

You were just laying there, looking at him when he came back out in sweats and a long sleeved shirt.  He looked comfortable.

“Are you gonna lay down?” You asked, and he looked at you in surprise.

“Wh-what?”

“Are you going to?” You asked again, motioning to the space in your bed.  “Where else will you sleep? The floor?”

He hesitated, but made his way around to lay in the open space, making you smile a small smile to yourself.

“Are you cold?” You asked, offering up some of your blanket.  He shook his head, but you tossed it over his body anyways.

“Would you have done it?” He blurted out, physically cringing as soon as he’d said it.  But you didn’t appear to take offense, understanding the question.

“I don’t know,” You answered honestly, exhaling and wondering for yourself what could have happened.  “But it doesn’t matter now, does it? You were there”

“I guess”

“You guess?” You chuckled and shook your head.  “Stiles, what’s got you all… like this?”

“Maybe because you nearly killed yourself?” Stiles snapped, and winced.  “Sorry, I’m sorry-”

“No don’t be,” You shook your head again, moving closer to him and adjusting your blankets.  “It’s alright, really,” You reassured, and took a second to let him think to himself.  “But it wasn’t real, and it’s not going to happen again”

“You know that?” He asked, lowering his volume as he stared at you intently.  You nodded your head.

“Yeah… I know that,” You answered, believing it completely.  “I’m here with you, I’m not going anywhere” You said with a shrug of your shoulders, like it was truly that simple.  Stiles couldn’t help his smile, though he tried.  You just looked at him, finally feeling warm, and safe.  You were certain that you’d never loved him more than right now.

“What?” He asked, catching her looking at him differently now.  “What?” He asked again when you didn’t say anything.  You just smiled softly, shaking your head.  Your eyes flickered over his features, how pretty he was.

“I don’t know…” You trailed off as you got lost in your thoughts.  Stiles was always gorgeous, but laying here with him was something entirely different than your simple attraction towards him.  He smiled a little bit, just the corner of his mouth lifting as his eyes flickered down.  A small laugh came out of him, and you laughed back.

Something told you he was wondering the same thing you were, but with the both of you giggling like nothing had gone wrong tonight, you weren’t sure anything was going to be said about it-

Stiles leaned over, his palm cupping your cheek and leading your lips up to his, in the matter of a second you had your arms wrapped around his neck and kissing him back.

This was certainly new.

You smiled when you parted, quirking an eyebrow at the boy.  “I wasn’t expecting that,” You said, Stiles stayed silent, not sure what to do next.  “But it was nice” You added, smiling a little bigger, letting out a breathless laugh.  He laughed too, really confused, and rather nervous.

“Sorry, I- I’m not sure what to do now” You smiled adoringly at his anxiousness.  

“Well either kiss me again or lay back down” You joked, and Stiles rolled his eyes, but pecked your lips once more before rolling back to his spot.

“Kinda wanted to do that for a while”

“Oh yeah?” You smirked at him.  “And what stopped you?”

“The obvious,” He said with a scoff of a laugh.  “We’re friends, I didn’t want to mess that up” You giggled at his answer, smiling brightly at him.

“Well, maybe I do” You said, and Stiles smiled back at you.  He wrapped his arm around your back, and tugged you closer to hug you.  You smiled still, pushing your face into his warm shirt.

There were a few knocks on the door before it opened and Scott walked in, dropping a few blankets on the end of your bed, smiling at the position you and Stiles were in.

“Wow guys, real inconspicuous” He winked at you, and you rolled your eyes.

“Wish I could throw this pillow at you,” Stiles grumbled.  “You win this round”

You settled into the bed, your eyes slipping shut and the warmth of Stiles and the blanket enveloping her in sleepiness.

“Can I get the lights?” Scott asked, and you felt Stiles nodding back at him.  A few seconds after, the room was dark.  “G’night guys” Scott mumbled.

“Night” You hummed back, and Stiles wrapped his arms around you, holding you closely against him.  You sighed, breath fanning over his neck as you slid your hand up his chest, fingers curling slightly over the collar of his shirt, as though you were holding him in place.

“You okay?” He asked as quietly as he could, lips nearly brushing over the crown of your head.  You nodded just a little bit.

“If I get up, and I… hallucinate like that again? Will you snap me out of it?”

“Yeah, yeah of course, don’t worry about it” He told you, cupping your cheek in his palm.  “I’m gonna be here the whole time, nothing else is happening tonight”

You looked at him for a moment, before smiling.

You felt safe here, in his arms.

“You fit, (y/n),” He murmured in your ear, vanquishing all of your previous doubts from earlier tonight.  “We work,” You smiled at his words, your heartbeat steady and happy.  “Really well”

taglist: @the-crime-fighting-spider @socially-awkward-nerd​  @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone​ @lovelynerdytraveler​ @writings-and-stuff​ @jurassicpork @the-crime-fighting-spiders @black-tights-black-heart​ @piper-x-lee @catcrown21​ @anabundanceoftrash​ @dylxnob​ @barryallenplease​

xoxo ~ jordie

[marquiswrites]

Out of Time [2/25]

Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Shuri, Doctor Strange, Original Female Character/OC

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader,

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1504

Warnings: Language

Author’s Notes: So guys, I got some pretty bad news regarding my grandmother. I am going to try keeping this up on one per day, but at this point I make no promises.

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

Chapter Two: Decorating the Tree

One thing was certain, they were in no way moving this coffin until they had a better understanding of what was inside. 

Bucky had immediately suggested calling Shuri, while Rhodey had been the one to suggest calling in Dr. Strange. Sam was holding out against hope that Thor would show up, despite the fact that he had gone off with the Guardians of the Galaxy. 

Turns out that only Bucky and Rhodey had gotten their wishes. A second quinjet coming to drop off Shuri, while Doctor Strange would be teleporting in shortly. Sam and Bucky sharing worried glances with each other while they waited, both unwilling to move too far away from the coffin, if only to be certain that it wouldn’t vanish and make them look like idiots the minute they turned around. 

The quiet quinjet engines signaled the arrival of the Wakadan princess, Shuri climbing easily down the ladder that had been staged by the crew that Sam had brought with them. Work lights beaming through the previously hidden chamber, though the mist remained, giving it an almost ethereal effect.

“You white boys always come up with the most interesting things. But is this truly what it takes to get you around for a visit, brother?” She tsked at Bucky with a laugh, enveloping her adopted brother in a warm hug before coming to stand before the coffin, lifting her arm to bring up the Kimoyo beads. Letting them scan over it. “She is alive!”

“It’s ancient magic.” Dr. Strange responded in his deep timbre. Stepping through a newly summoned portal, a book covered in nordic runes in one hand. “And powerful. Not something I would expect in a location like this…”

“I think we could pick up on that from the fact that she’s not exactly in cryo, doc.” Sam raised a brow while nodding to the coffin. “What we need to know is who, and why she was putting out a signal about germans in an old world war two hospital.”

Bucky frowned further, drifting to the side of the coffin opposite Shuri. Wiping his hand to clear away the fog once more, your eyes closed as though he had only imagined them being open. “She’s wearing a nurses uniform… Still has blood on it. Likely was stationed there at the hospital. Got.. caught up in whatever this is?” “No.” Strange countered once more, summoning the casting circles to his hands, waving one across the coffin. “This is being powered by her own spirit. She’s maintaining the spell… It is similar to that of Loki from Asgard in signature. Though unless she shares his Jotunheim inheritance, I am uncertain as to how.” “Great, so we gonna have another Asgardian show down?” Sam sneered slightly. “Or do you think this one is a little less psychotic?”

“I think the only way we are going to know, is if we wake her. So rather than talking yourselves in circles, how about we get a move on.” Shuri rolled her eyes at the men. Tapping along the purple screen before her. Then lowering her bracelet to tap against the coffin, a soft hiss indicating the cracking of the seal. Each of the others twitching with varying degrees of subtlety. Making Shuri roll her eyes once more. “She may take some time to wake-” Your gaze snaps open almost immediately. 

----

You look to the owner of the voice that had managed to break the seal on your spell. Watching her as you pushed aside the lid of your coffin. Carefully sitting up, only to hiss in pain. Hands fluttering over the wound at your side, the reason you had cast the spell to begin with, to buy you time. 

But how much time had you lost?

A hand at your shoulder broke the train of thought, following it to its owner, and… 

“Gwaine!” 

---

The girl threw herself at him before he had a chance to react, wrapping his arms instinctively about her to keep her from falling over. Bucky felt the softness of her lips press to his, stiffening in surprise, unable to react further until the kiss had been broken. 

“Gwaine, I hadn’t thought I would see you again!” She gave a soft sob and was suddenly burying her face to his shoulder, Bucky looking up to the others in an absolute panic. Starting to tremble softly in her hold. His discomfort more than obvious to everyone in the room but the ice girl.

Sam gave a subtle cough. “Pardon, ma’am, I think you might be a bit mistaken. Not sure who this Gwaine is, but-”

“Ser Gwaine, of Camelot. He was a knight of the round table.” Rhodey made his way into the chamber, taking the metal ladder slowly, raising a brow at the scene but cocking a grin. 

“Yeah, definitely not Barnes then.” Sam sniggered softly, though still watching the pair of them. “But I doubt that’s what she would mean anyways…”

“You might be surprised.” Strange hummed, watching the girl curiously. Thumbing over the cover of the book. “But I believe that this is a discussion better held in a more comfortable setting.”

Bucky swallowed tightly, nodding to the sorcerer. Gently grabbing hold of her shoulders to pull her away. “Hey doll, we’re gonna get you somewhere safe, alright? Just need you to trust us awhile.”

“I would trust you to my dying breath.”

---

You had meant what you said, and yet… 

Something was different this time. He had seemed surprised to see you. His eyes were that of a stranger, however kind, there was no trust there. Gwaine… No… Barnes, they had called him… This was not the man that you had left behind, the man you had searched for once more. As you always did. 

This was not the man that found you again and again over the span of a hundred lifetimes. Something had changed.

Their sorcerer, Doctor Strange, had introduced himself gently to you. Explained that he would be creating a portal for you to travel through. As though you would have no idea what he meant. Of course, you kept this thought to yourself, these were strange people in a strange time, and none of them knew whom exactly they were dealing with. 

It was not their fault that they did not show the proper deference. 

He took you to their home. Well, some of them lived here. You could already tell which did not. The young princess, the sorcerer, neither of them had left any imprint upon this place. The group seemed willing to let you lounge in their living room as they drifted off to another room. Likely to speak about you. A pine tree placed in the center surrounded by couches on each side, the tree near to ten feet tall, and bare still of any decorations. 

The sight of it made you frown gently to yourself. Stepping closer to brush your fingers along the branches. 

“We haven’t quite caught the spirit yet… But Sam said that even putting it up is a start.”

You jumped slightly with the sudden voice. Quickly turning to find it’s owner beside you. Your heart twisting with a yearning ache at the mere sight of him. “A shame… A tree this beautiful should not go bare.”

“If you decide to stick around, and if the other’s end up agreeing that you aren’t a threat, maybe you can help to decorate it, Snowflake.”

“Snowflake?”

“Well, you haven’t exactly given us a name, Doll.” Bucky chuckled as he looked down to you. His gaze warm, but still without recognition. 

“I have had many names… But… I believe that Snowflake might be fitting.” Smiling softly to him before reaching out to touch the pine needles once more. A soft frost beginning to cover the tree. 

“I think that might be counterintuitive.” His lips quirk up in a smirk, even as a soft sense of awe settles over his features. 

“My magic will not harm it. As matter of fact, it will help to preserve the tree. This one will not fade, as so many others do.” Your expression drops, along with the pit in your stomach. Turning your gaze to the now glittering tree. 

“Some things are meant to fade.” Your reverie is broken by the gentle sadness of his tone. Turning your attention to him once more to study his features. The lines of his face, a lifetime etched into a single expression. 

“Perhaps… but there are some things that are not meant to be lost to time.”

“Like you?” His gaze meets yours once more. A burning curiosity hidden within the ice blue. 

“I am no longer as sure as I was once.” You answer truthfully. Though you know that it does not answer the question that he was really asking. “But I can only hope that time will tell.”

“Well… Come on, let’s find you something other than that uniform. Then Shuri can check over your wound. After that, we can see about decorating the tree.”

[dbhilluminate]

DBHI: Redemption- "The Open Door", pt. 4

ARE YOU A FAN OF DETROIT? DO YOU LIKE GAY SHIPS AND COMPLICATED, LOVEABLE BOYS?? Then please keep up with our fic, you’ll love it, I promise!

(Chapter art by dark_dumb)

**Co-authored by grayorca15

Characters: Trevor Langley, Dennis Lenore, Vivienne Lenore-Anderson, Cassandra Carter, (mentions of Dylan Fleur, Spencer, Connor, Zach) Word Count: 8,335

• Archive link • Chapter Index • • Related Works • Characters •

Previous Chapter

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July 4th, 2041 - 10:56PM

The ride home was just as insufferable as the commute out, if not more so. Dennis hadn’t been able to contain the infectious grin for longer than ten minutes before he’d started prodding him with invasive questions and observations. Then it was one after another after another, like a conga-line of aggravation. You seem a lot more relaxed now than you did earlier. Looks like the two of you really hit it off. Did you have fun? What do you think? Are you gonna visit again? You should, it’d really do you both some good. On and on and on and on he went, so long-winded that after a certain point, Trev turned off his audio receptors just so he could hear himself think. The last thing he wanted while he was trying to decompress and process everything he had learned about Dylan Fleur, was to have another beyond-redundant, one-sided ‘I told you so’ conversation with Lenore, however good his intentions had been.

Thinking on how ‘successful’ the setup was just made him want to deny everything before he could even acknowledge it, but it was a little late for second thoughts now. Infantile as said appreciation was for Dylan’s tireless tenacity and ass-backward definition of tact, he couldn’t deny that his company still had more going for it than the lonely apartment awaiting him could offer. It had taken a new experience to really put into perspective how empty he felt without someone to talk to, just as being outed as an Android had irreversibly altered everything he thought he knew about himself, where he fit into the world, and his reason for being at all. It wasn’t all bad though. Dylan was a far better person for catalyzing the revelation the way he had (namely because no one needed to die to reveal it), even if it meant suffering a few inquisitional phases. Good-intentioned people or not, most went about asking the wrong way entirely, their fixated earnestness feeling more grating than gratifying in his twisted-up mind (with the exception of Dennis, whose brusque and authoritative approach Trev didn’t mind half as much). But not Fleur. Even though he’d had his moments where he’d crossed the line of what were and weren’t acceptable topics of conversation, Trev did have to give him credit for backing off at the first sign of severe discomfort. Most wouldn’t have taken the hint, most would have kept pushing for an answer to sate their own curiosities. Compared to the humiliation of admitting to someone ‘I believed I was human until about five months ago’ and being outright laughed at, shots from rubber bands and paint balloons were a small nuisance to endure for the sake of a little company; and it had eventually ended with Fleur making the effort to clean up the mess he’d made of him, inside and out. In that case specifically, he supposed some nuisances were better than none at all, if they made him feel important and not forgotten. Dylan had done well enough to make sure of that, compared to those at the academy who assumed he his status within Archangel to be higher than it was.

Truth was, RK800 or not, Trev was simply a nobody with a famous pedigree and a unique circumstance. Having virtually the same face as Connor or Zach or any other primaries he had met, had done him no favors to endear him to them. Contrary to popular belief, it hadn’t netted him any special perks- it hadn’t nabbed him the biggest dorm room in the building, a department-issued ride, or an all-access pass to Illuminate archives. Not even Spencer had made any qualms about the similarities in their appearance, just deflected it when others asked, saying he was simply ‘modeled after him’. The falsified story was that Spencer had been designed to resemble Trev, and not vice versa. What a crock that turned out to be.

Thinking of Spencer immediately sobered him, amidst musing over how quiet and empty his living space was. The shower he had intended to take didn’t feel so important, once he’d made it home. His desire to do so had gone by the wayside after he bid Dennis farewell, apologized again for leaving him with a blotchy suit to dry clean (as the detective insisted on doing, no less than three times), and closed the door. Trev’s mind was quickly turning into someplace he’d rather not be, and a shower would only open the floodgates for more stray thoughts to find their way in. He could still spare another hour before tending to end-of-day maintenance if it meant dodging that potential breakdown for a little longer. Langley paused at the door as it closed behind him and took a glance around the room. The dorms weren’t short on repurposed refuse, being the old disused apartment complex it once was. Most of the units hadn’t been cleared of what had been left behind by previous tenants, except to make room for new beds. City renovation crews had made sure the building was up to code before allowing anyone to live in it again. Holes in the walls and ceilings had been patched, water and electricity restored to working order, the dingy walls cleaned and repainted, the floors resurfaced where needed, and the building tented to get rid of unwanted pests. Archangel had done the rest to supply whatever their students needed- thirium or other necessary fluids, plus tools and parts required for maintenance could be found in the commissary on the first floor, free of charge. Had he been housed here without such a drastic revelation to expose his android heritage (and shatter the façade of being human), he may have bought into it, simply based on the facts that he had never starved or asked where the bathroom was. Short term memory pre-constructs had once filled the gaps were such inconsistencies would have stood out, but with his awakening had come the loss of the need for such subroutines to execute, leaving him with the fallout of constant reminders that he was not what he once thought. And because of that, it had and hadn’t been easy to adjust to life in Zion (Detroit’s newly established Android suburb). Being surrounded by so many other androids who had developed their own semblance of society, and a number of like-minded humans helping them find their feet, wasn’t what bothered him. What he had such a hard time dealing with was being faced with all that he didn’t do, but once believed he did.

Trevor paced across the tiny room and brushed his fingertips over the desk by the window, opened the single drawer and sifted through what few provisions his study desk contained that weren’t technical in design, seeking just what Dylan had suggested: an outlet, something to keep his hands busy while his mind churned away. As fate would have it, its previous owner had left behind a few pencils and some old sheets of blank, yellowing stationery that crackled loudly to the touch. He’d never used something as archaic as this, but seeing the drawings on the walls had him curious to see what it would feel like to drag the graphite across the page, and what it might yield. Trev reached for the items, set them out on the table, flipped on the desk lamp and sat down to find out, if only to get the whim to do so out of his system before it manifested into something that couldn’t be ignored. Idly, he scratched the dull point of the pencil back and forth over the scrap paper and thought again on Dylan’s offer about the door being ‘always open’. So far, he had nothing but reason to believe it was genuine- the boy had made it abundantly clear that he would have liked to see him come around again. So if by some miracle he’d just been leading him on, did he really have much to lose in taking him up on it, aside from maybe a little peace of mind? The subtle vibration from the toothy drag of graphite against paper was weirdly soothing. Even if it wasn’t exactly productive, it was still a nice break from doing digital coursework for a job he already knew how to perform back to front, with the exception of a few changes unique to Zion law. For the most part, Archangel had imported Detroit’s Law Enforcement standard and Municipal Law as it was; but due to the nature of its Android population, some laws had been added or amended appropriately. It would have been easy enough just to give him a list of the differences and significantly cut back on his time in the academy. But after nearly three months of no police work after a psychotic break, Sarah decided that a full course would serve him well as a refresher, in addition to helping him fit in with the other cadets. Some days Trev envied them, as one might through a pane of glass. What he wouldn’t give to be just another starry-eyed pupil of law enforcement, fresh and green and running only with a want to learn. All he knew -apart from what he wasn’t- was law enforcement, even if his blue-blooded heart just wasn’t in it the way it once was. He was supposed to want to help others (‘Protect and Serve’ and all that jazz), but considering the mental condition he was in these days, it would have been better for everyone if he’d just bothered to help himself first. At some point, he would have to become self-sufficient, take charge of whatever his life was outside the job, and learn how to become more personable. Everyone was saying as much, in their own way… but why did it have to be such a hurdle?

“That blasted-” Five minutes later he conceded exactly what he was drawing with a scathing glare, the android sighed, swept it off the desk and listened to it flutter to the floor. What began as two symmetrical circles had turned into a macro study of a pair of eyes. Even without any color attributed to them, the sly slant of them, the svelte lashes, and the freckles peppered around the sockets could only belong to one person. The worst of it was that he hadn’t even given much conscious thought to what his hand would draw; but as he detuned from the world for a few moments, it was the defining characteristic of his would-be associate he was invariably drawn toward. The magnetism was at work, even at a distance, and couldn’t let him forget even for a few minutes. Fighting it would be more of a headache than simply letting it be, and therein lay the problem. It was going along with what seemed like the easy route that had led to the status quo being shattered before. Logically, there was no possible way this could go so horribly wrong the same way twice, but he couldn’t be faulted for being leery.

Putting ideas in my head like that. Who does he think he is? And who am I kidding? This won’t benefit anybody. It’ll only be a- a waste of time. I don’t need distractions. I need to focus. I can’t - lose focus again.

But that had been the problem from the start- if he had focused more to begin with, questioned more, put the puzzle together faster, maybe he wouldn’t be here. Maybe he would have figured it out sooner. Maybe Spencer wouldn’t be dead. That was a lot of maybes to get so hung up on when Dennis had started the night off reminding him to try and take it easy and not implode. Without the constant cajoling that followed, however, that proved difficult to achieve, and the path of self-pity so much easier to follow.

Maybe if they had seen fit to lay off-

-they wouldn’t have burned that lead out so fast. Spencer cautioned him against tailing the witness for too long, and too obviously, thinking they were actually part of the gambling scam and not the victim they played at being. Instead, now they were looking at a whole lot of nothing for three days of combing the docks, trying to find the back door that led to this supposed racket. “I wouldn’t say you screwed the pooch, Officer. But you certainly gave her the wrong vibe.”

Trevor’s mind halted mid-memory as his hand (still scrawling across another piece of paper) came into focus. At some point, amidst his thoughts, he had subconsciously picked up the pencil and started drawing again. He brushed the next paper away angrily in an attempt to ignore the partially-complete side profile outlining a strong brow and proud nose, then reached for the coat pocket he thought he still had before remembering he was no longer in a suit- And froze as he realized the Massachusetts state quarter which typically never left his sight had gone with it. What most would have considered a simple quarter meant infinitely more to him- it was one of the only things he’d brought with him after the Rise and Fall of Purgatory, and the only remaining thing connecting him to his dead friend.

Once Boston had been reclaimed and returned to order, only so much evidence was saved. Once the National Guard had moved in as backup to Archangel, they’d made it a priority to search the living and the dead for any clues as to possible contingency plans laid down by the Horsemen. Nicodemus, War, Pestilence and Death were accounted for, while Famine remained at large, to this very day. Replaying recovered memories of the deceased to backtrack as many fatalities as possible (perpetrated by Nicodemus and his gang), only served as reason to fill out causes of death on certificates, and it took months to complete. Even with Archangel’s cooperation with the FBI, the National Guard, and remnants of the fledgling Boston branch of Zion and Boston’s Police force, the sheer volume of footage and number of bodies to identify was astronomical. Casualties had surpassed the triple digits once everything was said and done. Among the deceased found at BPD’s Central Station was his recently departed partner, Spencer, whose drives had corroborated Trevor’s story, even if he was no longer with them to speak for himself; and all that had been found on his body, aside from the clothes on his back, was a Massachusetts State quarter that had been assigned to him on the day of his activation as a calibration device. Every primary RK investigator had been given one, in accordance with their state of service.

In spite of knowing this, the last thing on Trevor’s mind as he fled for his life was to stop and rifle through Spencer’s pockets looking for a keepsake to remember him by. He had hardly been of half a mind to make the conscious decision to escape when he had the chance, but self-preservation insisted in spite of the wanton desire to self-destruct, as all androids usually leaned toward in such stressful situations. Instead, he ran, like if he moved fast enough he could outrun the reality of what had just happened. Like something out of a Warner Brothers skit, Dennis Lenore reached out from around the corner of a crumbling building on the outskirts of town to snag him mid-flight. Trev couldn’t recall much of what he might have said besides gibberish, incoherent shrieking, and whining like a maimed puppy on the run. What he did remember was Dennis’ insistence he not try and leave the city, because the Horsemen had been shooting anyone trying to get in or out. This had only panicked him more and reactivated his self-destruct protocol. Luckily, Lenore decked him cold in one shot before he could get his hands on his gun. It was not the most flattering introduction, from either party, but they’d made amends about a month later while Trev was still under protective custody in a cell at Archangel Detroit. With Boston under control and the Elysian Outbreak nullified, there was little to no time for them to really reconnect; but one night Dennis was able to make time for a quick stop to pass on the only material possession Spencer had owned. He spotted The Minuteman statue inscribed on the face of the coin the moment he pulled it from his pocket- Trev could barely contain his tears as he plucked it out of his hand, equal parts delighted and miserable at seeing it again, and it hasn’t left his side since. Until that night.

The trembling in his fingers started up, same as it had on the ride home. It wasn’t nervousness or any tangible fear. The technicians at Archangel who’d pieced together his file post-Purgatory —Nick included— had determined that severe PTSD was to blame for the shakes. After all, any living thing would be scared stiff by a low-flying bullet grazing their head, even more so if the same bullet killed the only ally they’d had. It was comforting to know that even with it stowed away in a borrowed jacket, it had still wound up in the hands of the same person who’d discovered it to begin with. There was still a chance it hadn’t been lost, but the absence was distressing all the same. He hadn’t been without his ‘safety blanket’ in months. Trev left the pencil on the desk, unable to trust that he could hold it with a steady hand, and gathered up the tossed drawings, rather than let dismay get the better of him. When the shakes would decide to mellow out on their own was the most maddening thought. He hadn’t been in a similar situation since, so why was it acting up now, of all times? “Planting seeds, my- as if.” Trev aborted the desire to curse at the last second and snatched the papers up to throw on the desk, anticlimactic as it was, and folded his legs to curl up in the chair. His fingers instinctively crawled up the back of his neck into his hair and dug angrily into his scalp, caught between the urge to rant or stand and pace. But, seeing as there was no one around to hear him unload, he went for the former.

“I don’t need that. I don’t- need any of it. I can’t need-... I shouldn’t have to-... I wouldn’t think to if I-...” The constant stuttering of one thought into the next before he could even finish it discouraged him and brought out a frustrated groan, and his old accent, British and feigned as it was. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’m just right as rain, aren’t I?” Asking this of himself was wrenching enough to twist a half sob out of him. “ Sure - can’t even finish a thought without half-stroking out. Oh, but remember now, androids can’t do that.” Even he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, not when it felt so genuinely real. “No, sir, we don’t have any of those same carbon-based health problems our friendly neighborhood humans do. No arteries in the head prone to getting clogged up, or organs that deteriorate, or easily punctured bodies… because lucky us! We only exist thanks to their bloody-... ingenuity.” He alone was proof of Cyberlife’s curiosity of how convincingly a human could fake out an Android into thinking it was something it wasn’t, even if he never asked for it. “Yeah, and that’s all well and good for the rest of you, but the one thing they’ve got in common is not knowing when to just leave. It. ALONE.”

Shutting down all his external senses at once probably wouldn’t help —it would be like putting a small box inside of a larger one, trying to muffle the input but putting oneself at the mercy of enduring a spiraling slide— but he tried for it nonetheless. It wasn’t like he hadn’t before.

— He only meant to help those civilians caught in the conference room of the department headquarters. The lights had gone out. Spencer told him they needed to run, get to the nearest weapons locker, try and prepare a defense. Trevor knew the layout of this given floor. There was an exit closer to this room, out into the side parking lot where the vehicles would offer better cover than office chairs and tables to hide under. Both of them had heard the radio light up just as they heard and felt the shudders of bombs going off. Nicodemus’ forces emerged in one fell swoop, having blended in with the masses as seamlessly as ice in water. They carried an impressive array of weapons besides firearms, rolling through outlying districts to take down entire buildings in one shot- loosing noxious gases in some, hurling Molotov cocktails through the windows of others, shooting pedestrians on-sight as they tried to flee the carnage. The streets were a horror show unto themselves, a burgeoning war zone, but getting out of the station quickly meant a better chance of finding backup to coordinate. But as he reached for the doorknob the frosted-glass door swung open just inches from his nose, and the intruder grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him off his feet—

The replay ended with a jolting surge of electricity between the ears. His eyes blinked open on reflex, temporarily blinded by the disable command in place. “He shouldn’t have-... argued. He should have listened. Whatever his-... orders were, the ruse or- or anything to do with it, he had to know we needed to get- get out of…” He gradually slowed from the tangent he had lapsed into, biocomponents rebooted automatically after being disabled for so long. Trev didn’t notice that he had slumped down to sit on the floor until he was already there, and blinked slowly and how uncomfortable he was with the seat of the chair jabbing into the back of his neck. His hands still gripped fistfuls of hair while his breath whistled in and out in sharp, whinging gasps. He was scared stiff, again, and that hadn’t even been the worst he could recall about said day. So much for avoiding a breakdown.

No. I can’t do this. I can’t get close. Close is dangerous. It can’t happen again. Boston was bad enough. I can’t let anyone get hurt because I didn’t pay enough attention. No one else is going to die because of me. No one else. They won’t. I’ll stay right here, where it’s safe and quiet and… and just shut out everything else.

Eventually, the piqued breaths smoothed out, even if it was only a lull between this and the next fit. Trev uncurled his fingers, which felt more like rusty hinges, and gradually came back to his senses. Optics flickered twice as they rebooted to the sight of pale skin as it reformed over his palms and languidly spread upward to sheath over his bare digits. However many times he watched it happen didn’t dull the unease of what was disconcerting to see. Even for an upright-standing hunk of plasti-metal, wires, processors, fuel lines, and nanoparticle-based projections trying to pass itself off as human, it still just wasn’t natural. He couldn’t contain the shudder as he wrapped his arms around his knees and curled up into the fetal position as only a natural-born creature should. He should have walked away- not linger against his better judgment, not engaged, not said anything. Maybe if he hadn’t he wouldn’t be as much of a mental mess. He’d given that boy an inch, and now here he was back in his dorm (his supposed place of peace and solitude), wearing his clothes, barely through a breakdown brought on by how his fragmented mind couldn’t handle the thought of getting close to someone just to lose them again.

And yet was still trying to. Maybe he wanted to be close, to belong somewhere again, or maybe it was the worst possible thing he could do. He couldn’t have it both ways. Maybe that was what drew the tears out, unwanted as they were, but holding them back only intensified the burning feeling in his chest. As comfortable as his clothes were, clean and soft and smelling faintly of pigmented oil, huddling into them in the absence of a hug may as well have been an embrace as rough as burlap. The sleeves barely muffled his sobs as he buried his face in his arms, saline smeared the inner surface of his glasses into a blurry mess before he fitfully tore them off and tossed them aside. The frames clacked several times as they ragdolled across the floor, but he couldn’t care less if they wound up scratched. If that night had shown him anything, it was that he didn’t need glasses to see how lonely he really was. There were other things in his life he needed more than a pair of prop gunmetal gray frames still spotted with acrylic.

———

Eight hours of repose didn't make the next day any easier. When he woke up he was surprised he didn’t even remember falling asleep with the light on. That detail alone puzzled him to no end- most nights ended with just a few measly hours of rest after a sleepless night of rumination (if he didn’t give in to insomnia first and just say forget it), yet somehow he’d found enough relief from the hurricane of emotions that had left him a walking disaster the night before, to have fallen into a deep sleep. As perplexing as it was, he couldn’t really complain. If there was an upside to being without the one material reminder of his old life, it came in the form of keeping himself buried in the coursework. Studying more than just law sufficed to keep him busy at almost all times. When his hands were constantly on a tablet or angled down in the pages of a book, his classmates weren’t so inclined to pester him. The downside was the rapidly mounting stress of wonder and dread, with no outlet to contain it. Scribbling sketches here and there was like bailing out a slowly sinking rowboat with a teaspoon.

The first sign it wasn’t working was when he woke the morning after the breakdown to find himself sprawled in a bed he didn’t remember climbing into, wearing Dylan’s on-loan clothes like a comfort blanket. He’d bolted to the shower, amidst much-agitated muttering, fitfully scrubbed the last of the dried paint from his skin and hair, then raided his closet for a fresh set of cadet duds as he tried to be rational about how he could track the quarter down. He made a call to Dennis once he thought his nerves were sufficiently mellowed out, only to be further dismayed at learning the suit had, in fact, been left in the care of a local dry cleaning service. Trev tried to hide the panic in his voice as he shakily asked if there was any way to expedite the job, or have the clothes delivered to his dorm. Dennis saw through to his ulterior motive in a second. “You’re upset I didn’t check the pockets? Really. Kid, I thought you would’ve been of a mind to do that.” The frown in his voice was palpable. “I was- I meant to, only I… I…” He stammered to an embarrassed stop the second he realized how desperate he must have sounded over what was actually a very trivial matter to most. Trev slumped against the nearest wall and smothered a distressed whine. The old flip phone he held to his ear was dead as a doornail, but force of habit compelled him to speak out loud anyway. The physical weight of it in his hand was grounding, compared to thinking the conversation over the private line like Android telepathy. “Never mind. I just-... will you call me, please? As soon as you have it back?” “No promises. I can check with the cleaner, see if they found anything. But if they didn’t-” “I know. Sir. Thank you either way.”

The first day was rough. His mood took a hard nosedive that loomed over him like a shadow, and it only got progressively worse the longer he went without something to keep him occupied. Getting dressed was more of an emotional chore than he’d expected, and it took every last ounce of mental strength to force himself out of the apartment and trudge the few blocks to Archangel HQ. The best he could do in the meantime was to throw himself into his studies. Maybe he came across as sulky and short-tempered but at the same time, he didn’t care how he came across to anyone else, because no one even bothered to ask why. Not his classmates, or his instructors, or the other Lenores. The second the clock hit four, Trev was up and out the door before anyone could notice he was gone, and home with the door closed and locked without any further attempts at interruption. He’d been waiting all day for isolation, thinking it was just what he needed, but it only took an hour for the anxiety to settle in and the shaking in his arms to start back up. After about two hours of trying to tune it out but failing miserably, Trev stood, locked his fingers behind his head, pressed against the discomfort in his neck, and paced the room, hoping to burn off a little of the excess negative energy. It was only seven PM, but at this rate it may as well have been eleven, because there was no way he was going to get any sleep that night. Then again… he’d thought the same thing last night and somehow crashed so hard he didn’t notice it happen. But how when he had been so wound up to begin with…? Maybe he’d worn himself out emotionally with all the rapid cycling through anger, sorrow, anxiety, and depression once he finally sat down to think. Then again, it wasn’t the first time he’d been there... but it was the first time he’d managed to sleep after such a breakdown. The only uncommon denominator among the other instances was the devil he’d rather forget. Trev glanced sidelong at the folded up clothing still sitting out on top of the dresser, waiting to be taken home, taunting him with the knowledge that he would have to see him again. Like it or… The longer he stared at it, the more clearly he understood. He frowned at the dawning realization- even just thinking about it took the edge off his anxiety over the possibility that he’d lost Spencer’s quarter; it also quietly fed the fear of what that meant. Still, fear was more tolerable than anxiety. Fear could be conquered. Against (what he thought to be) his better judgment, he’d conducted an experiment to test his working theory and slept another night in those clothes, just as soundly as the night before. Perhaps in the same way that fidgeting with the quarter calmed his mind, sinking into the comfort of something that belonged to someone who truly understood his pain, made him feel less alone- made him feel like maybe he belonged.

But another good night’s sleep still wasn’t enough of a reprieve to ease his nerves during the following day. Even the one other person wearing cadet attire that he might call a friendly acquaintance, Cassandra Carter, wasn’t spared a sideways, narrowed glare one afternoon as she tried to pat his shoulder in passing. “Touch me again, and you’ll need to replace that hand.” Cassie snapped back her hand as if he’d burned her and looked as though she didn’t even recognize the person sitting there, though her concern cooled his temper before it could flash boil into another scalding burst of anger. Trev slumped over his book on the table and buried his face in his arms to hide the grimace he made at how bent out of shape he was over a tiny piece of metal. “Meaning… you’ll probably - have to wash it. I’ve worn these same clothes for two days,” he explained with a groan. CC’s former occupation as a therapist was a testament to how she handled confrontation with as much grace as she did. Instead of snapping back, like many would have, she just scoffed in amusement at his transparent excuse and ghosted a light, knowing touch over his head to lightly ruffle his hair. “Please, Langley. You’re a neat freak, but that’s no reason to think you accumulate dirt faster than the rest of us.”

The rest of the study period was a little more bearable for that forgiving attitude, but Trev was even less understanding toward the next person to contact him out of the blue. It was unfair of him to hold it against her for only checking in intermittently (after all, some ties were better than none at all), but at the risk of sounding too harsh, Vivienne Lenore —one of Zion’s founding cornerstones and mother figure to most of those in his immediate circle— would have been better off focusing on her own priorities. She’d only been married a year or so, and (if he wasn’t getting his gossip mixed up) was about to have a baby of her own; there was no way she’d just been sitting around the house wondering about his well-being. Someone must have prompted her to check in with him, and he didn’t need three guesses to peg who it was. “Did Dennis tell you to check in with me?” “I’m overdue for one either way, Trevor. I said I would and I dropped the ball, I’m not about to deny it. After what happened on the fourth, and the way you’ve been behaving the last couple of days, someone had to check in. Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”

Trev scowled down at the sidewalk and shouldered past a small mob of cadets lingering at the bustling crosswalk, too caught up jabbering to not notice the light was green, and kept the legacy-model cell phone crammed to his ear (if only to stave off the irrational thought this wasn’t a voice in his head making him feel like the crazy human he wasn’t). As tempting as it was to throw up a stop-sign of his own, his answer came out more like a yield. “Without giving you the full story, ma’am, I am- much as I can be, anyway. You want to know anything more than that, I’d rather… talk face to face. If it isn’t too much trouble.” It hadn’t been at the time they’d met, but then again, that had been immediately following the Elysian Outbreak— a reset virus spread through touch between deviant androids, distributed by Cyberlife’s rogue AI, Amanda, that ravaged Zion and nearly destroyed Illuminate’s leadership just days after Boston had been reclaimed. She hadn’t exactly gone out of her way to check in on him after their return from Boston. When she did get around to it, it was only because they had already been making their rounds checking in on survivors. It just so happened he’d been a curiosity on display when she passed by his holding cell. Still, Vivienne did him the courtesy no one else yet had of simply asking about his well being, and offered her emotional support when he admitted to her how confused and terrified he was of everything and everyone. Trev took her beat of hesitance now as an attempt to withdraw from a passing interest in his affairs, something he anticipated from everyone but quietly hoped he’d be wrong about. “But, you know,” he added in the uncomfortable silence, “Trouble does tend to stalk me on a regular basis, no matter how many times I try and throw her off.” “Heh. I see your flair for exaggeration hasn’t changed. It’s no bother, Trevor, just name a time and place. We can plan around your schedule if not mine.” Had he known that reverse psychology would have no effect on Viv, he probably wouldn't have even tried. Instead, she’d thrown the ball right back in his court, and left him standing there feeling like a jackass. Trev’s lip curled in dismay. He really didn’t want to deal with this right now. “I’ll… call you back when I’ve figured it out. I’m a bit... preoccupied these days. Bye.”

The flip phone clamped shut with a sharp clap upon closing, and he huffed in aggravation at his decision to, once again, lie to get out of an uncomfortable situation. Dishonesty might not have been the most flattering trait for a policeman to possess, but there wasn’t any harm in telling half-truths as long as the whole truth came out when the time was right. And it wasn’t really a lie, he was preoccupied. Between studying, waiting, and thinking, Trev had a lot on his plate, and on his mind. Specifically, he couldn’t get Dylan’s words out of his head- about loneliness, and about letting people help; but what nagged at him most wasn’t advice or words of wisdom, it was how he’d related to the pain in his eyes and his unapproachable behavior. It was how he’d gently persisted in spite of all the warning signs and immediately forgave him when he snapped a little harder than appropriate. Fleur was right to equate his words to planting seeds. It was funny how only a few hours in each other's presence had already managed to root themselves so deep into his thoughts. Whether those seeds would sprout flowers or weeds was up for discussion, though. It couldn’t be both. Weeds tended to spread their roots faster, soak up all the water, and choke flowers out; and right now, he could hardly tell the difference. Explaining that to Cassie, Dennis, or Vivienne would only end in them telling him to stop worrying so much. Even though they meant well, they just couldn’t understand the stress that fostered.

He went to bed the second night without the quarter, only to lay there a few futile hours and listen to his thoughts thundering like contenders on a horse track as he fought back the impulse to swap clothes again. There was no way he was going to allow him to have this much influence over his state of mind. The more he relied on his memory, the more entwined he’d become, and the harder he would be to extirpate, and Trevor just couldn’t afford another hole to fill. But his will was weaker than his anxiety, and desperate exhaustion won out in the end. The motion of tugging the shirt down over his head hit like soft hands on his shoulders, and the just-barely-too-small fabric swathed him like the security blanket it was. Trev didn’t even bother to crawl under the covers as he got back into bed; instead, he just curled up against the headboard, pressed his face into the pillow, and listened to his anxious breathing as it smoothed itself out the longer he stayed still and didn’t reach out to catch any of his circling thoughts. As much as he wanted to continue to fret, he knew that rest was more important.

The third day saw a welcome reprieve when Dennis intercepted him at the end of his day just outside his apartment. Even though he was still on duty, he’d made a detour to return the missing token to its distraught owner, in the hope that he’d take a breath and stop acting like such a jerk toward every poor soul he came across. Trev wasn’t surprised to see Lenore leaned against the car cooling his heels when he spotted the ZPD cruiser idling on the corner until he pulled a familiar trinket from his pocket. Trevor lunged for the coin and nearly dropped everything in his arms in the process to retrieve it, but Dennis held firm to it to look his understudy square in the eye and make sure he really heard what he had to say. “Happens again, finding it is on you, understand?” The unspoken half of his comment didn’t need saying, his blue eyes screamed loud and clear. And stop taking your anger out on the rest of us. There’s no need for your hissy fits. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Langley dropped his gaze, feeling properly admonished. Launching into any long-winded explanation to justify his bad behavior wouldn’t end well, so he didn’t bother. There was no follow up affirmation, no nod or a pat on the arm. When he looked up Dennis’ stern gaze was still locked on him, but after a few more moments of silence, he wordlessly turned and walked around to the other side of the vehicle while reaching for the radio clipped to his chest. Trevor didn’t linger to listen to his conversation with dispatch. He pushed the door to the lobby open, rushed up the stairs to the second floor, darted into his apartment and slammed the door behind him. The cool metal of the quarter pressed tightly into the palm of his hand had already started to melt away the stress, the same way the false skin of his hand had deactivated on contact at the intense pressure. Two days ago this would have caused a breakdown, but now that he had Spencer’s quarter back, he could forgive the unease the sight caused him. Trev put his book bag on the bed to sit at his desk and study the Philadelphia-minted coin under lamplight. He didn’t detect any lingering soap residue or see new buffs on the finish. The mixed composition of copper and nickel was, as best he could tell, unaltered and the tarnish no more advanced than the last time he had seen it. It didn’t excuse how callously he had been reacting to everyone since he’d misplaced it. Even if most hadn’t bothered to take notice of his not-quite-tantrums, those who did were due an apology, as soon as he could manage. Before he could repay new debts though, there was one he needed to take care of first. It was already pretty late in the day on a Sunday, and he still had to wash them before he returned them. Luckily, he had accumulated enough dirty laundry of his own to mix Dylan’s in with, so he wouldn’t get any weird looks for washing one set of clothing. There was a small laundromat on the ground floor of the building, he could stop by and run a load before class… Which left him one more night with them as they were. Had it been two nights prior, he may have fought the urge to sleep in them again with more conviction, but after his experience the previous night, he opted for an easy sleep without even thinking twice about it.

July 8th, 2041 - 4:06 PM

Mondays were the bane of any workweek, with or without the looming eventuality of seeing the man he’d just spent the last three days trying to forget. It was the beginning, the end of the sacred weekend, the return to the daily grind. It didn’t matter what type of work, any kind of routine nine-to-five occupation boasting full-time hours with a baseline of eight-hour shifts per day, the sentiment was universal. From corporations to retailers to home-grown grocers running their small-time food carts on the sides of a Downtown street, everyone adhered to the hate-Monday mentality like a suburban ritual, one that extended to students returning to school after a couple of days without classes. For Trev, a long weekend of grousing at people who had nothing to do with causing him real distress had just left him feeling sheepish. It wasn’t that he liked being a grumpy misanthrope. His prior persona had been earnest and wide-eyed, only concerned with doing the right thing, but circumstances since had only served to channel him down this path of isolation, something he did and didn’t want. Dylan had shown him that, and continued to needle that want for the next three days, even if he hadn’t been around to do so in person. All of this back and forth, yes and no, hot and cold was starting to get exhausting, more so than usual. Trev had to get his things back where they belonged, then maybe he’d stop thinking about it so much. And he didn’t need his charity any more than he needed anyone telling him they knew what was best for him.

After a tepid round of classes, sparring, and some rudimentary range time, Trev collected the now-clean pants and shirt from his apartment and loitered in the doorway of the building, just out of sight of any curious eyes, as he flagged down the first taxi he found. One hand he kept in his pocket to thumb the quarter intermittently to dull the looming anxiety, a drawstring plastic bag with the borrowed clothing clutched in the other. The ride back to Fair Haven didn’t seem nearly as long and grueling without Dennis in the car to ask questions. He paid little attention to the buildings outside, how they turned smaller and more domestic the further out of the city it went. Community parks turned to patchy stretches of forest, and the less congested the traffic became, the more relaxed he felt. And with the token back in his possession to fight with, he couldn’t work himself into such a frenetic state of mind even if he tried. The automated vehicle took the long route around the property before finding itself barred at the gate. It was an unmanned checkpoint, overseen by a single camera and a microphone built into a small post. It looked more like a terminal to put in an order at a fast-food joint. “Uh... Tre- Trevor Langley, here to see Mr… Dylan Fleur?” The beady red LED above the speaker winked green after half a minute, almost as if the security guards listening from their remote office hadn’t expected anyone to be visiting the delinquent son. To tell the truth, he’d half expected to be denied at the gate, but it sounded like Dylan had left his name on the guest list in the hope that he’d return. So he hadn’t been lying about the open invite, after all.

The gate rolled open and the cab pulled through into the estate's two thousand acre property, fenced in on all sides, and followed the winding path up the cobblestone driveway lined with flowering magnolia trees. Trevor paid his surroundings no mind until he noticed a shabby-looking pickup truck parked off to one side about half a mile from the estate’s centralized mansion, facing the treeline. Two men stood outside leaning against the doors with a set of binoculars in hand, but turned away as the car approached. Clearly, they didn’t want to be recognized. Trev frowned. One glance at their ragged attire, scraggly hair, and unwashed faces, and he could tell they had no business being there. Unless they were groundskeepers, the guard should have known better than to let them in. So how had they managed? And what were they doing way out here, lingering like a couple of vultures? Curiosity got the better of whatever caution he felt. He waved a hand over the dashboard to apply the brake, and the car rolled to a stop as he leaned halfway out the window. “Hey! You boys lost or something?” It was highly unlikely.

Both men jumped up at the sound of his unfamiliar voice, and scrambled into the truck while throwing panicked looks over their shoulders. They clearly hadn’t been expecting to be found, much less called out, which only made his case for him. Trevor heard a bad engine cough four times before it turned over and sputtered black exhaust from under the frame as the tires spun to life in a panic. Rather than take the main exit, they sped for a gap in the trees and disappeared behind the layers of undergrowth, the torn-up grass and unsightly skid marks left over the only evidence they had ever been there. Trev frowned and blinked the short term memory away as he sat down to roll the window back up. Who they were wasn’t yet important, but what they might have been doing on the property at all was troubling. He didn’t need hypersensitive android ability to see they had been up to no good.

[impact510]

Ending my days: psychosocial 7-7

Even though this might get dark, the bright side is I get to finish this series. Finishing it with a BANG! I just hope to commit e and start something new. Okay back to darkness.

I laugh when I say that I would be a horrible drug addict. Clean up for a bit and then back to the old habits. I should ask my therapist that. Why do I like to look at the past? Why do I like to see the good and the ugly? Why do I like to inflict pain on myself? I know the outcomes sometimes but, I want to feel the pain. It’s psychotic, searching for pain because I like it yet hate it? I’m going into my 30’s I need to figure shit out. So, here we go, the sweet pleasure of pain.

A while back I told my Ex to delete everyone we know on Instagram. She kept my cousin for some reason. Being the toxic I am the other day I decided to peep and check up on her. Here’s the pleasure of pain situation. Part of me knew that seeing her again would bring up the good memories. The memories that get you so high that you would sell your soul. Of course, the bad should always weigh out the good. Going on a side quest even further I was the one that made the mistake of lying to her where I was. I admit that I was the one that fucked up. Yet, I gaslight myself to feel bad? As much as I didn’t want to break up I made the decision to break up. There was no trust going forward. Okay long story short, I wanted to see her again to get that high. This high turned south real quick.

I guess it’s natural to on one side give shit to your ex. That feeling of may all the bad things happen to you. Being a terrible person that’s what I think and hope for. Send that feeling that I’m doing better than you histeria. However, give them all the best and success because you’re a shitty person like I am. In the end you reflect that yes, that person is doing better.

I broke my heart again. My Ex has a new BF. My heart broke just seeing her happy. That feeling that you were happy with the same person. Gone. That feeling that someone is making her smile. Not you. It just sucks. You had a life with someone, you fucked it up and now you’re eating shit because you want your Ex to suffer. Turns out, you’re the one suffering. I guess I never confronted the issue that I still miss her sometimes and havnt forgotten about her. Sucks cause if I could I would just erase every happy memory with her. It effects me cause it was a point in time where I felt happy with someone. I had a partner. I had someone look at me and say hey this guy is a good person and love him. I would look up and say hey I love this person. Guess I didn’t. No, I did love her. I really did. I was gonna marry her. The one that got away. Maybe I should say that I ruined and left.

My 30’s I don’t know what to expect. I hate that I’m a romantic. I search and search for the next high but it’s forced. I don’t know what to manifest in my 30’s. Part of me wants to give up. Just stop with the romance and looking for a partner. I don’t know why I make dating difficult. Guess part of me I see myself as un attractive. Part of me is shallow where I want someone with a certain attractions that I like. I’m not looking for the next model. I just want someone to chill on the couch. Someone to go to dinners and talk about the dumbest topic or serious topic. The physical touch of being with someone. What do I do that makes this difficult? What doesn’t help is everyone in my friends of circles is finding their partner. Getting married. Deep down in my soul I am happy for them cause I want the same thing.

I don’t know why I struggle with love. I wish just someone would just come up to me and give me a list of what I need to do to get over this topic. Everyone that is near to me just flows with them. Here’s great advice. Dating is easy. Ha! That’s always funny. I’m tired with love. What does it bring me besides stress and depression. Why do I have to feel emotion.

So here’s my manifesto.

Please send me a sign to lead me forward. Lead me to where I can learn to love myself and others or Lead to me the end of love and embrace solitude.

To my ex

Glad that you’re happy. It kills me to see your smile but hey be happy. I’m sorry for everything. Kills me to see you with someone else but that’s life.

[twisted-broth]

Taken- Masky x Reader

Reader gender: not mentioned Warnings: violence, kidnapping A/n: first creepypasta story! First of all, I fricking love Masky he's the best. This will probably also have a sequel. I know this won't be as popular as my other writings but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Word count: 1460 You were hopelessly confused. A few days ago you woke up in a hotel room with your sister, Jessica, with no memory of the past seven months or so. The hotel was eerily empty, with only staff and one other guy named Jay with a conjoined room to yours. He kind of weirded you out, always having a camera on him and filming anything he could. Not to mention, he tried to interrogate you and Jessica every opportunity he got. You may have been confused, but, Jessica was reaching her breaking point. "That's it. I'm confronting Jay about all this," she declared one day as she stood up. "All what?" You asked, glancing at her over the top of your book. "Why can't we remember anything? Why do we have a conjoined room with Jay? Why the hell is always filming everything and lying to us about why he is?" She listed, her voice progressively getting louder. "Okay, okay. Go for it," you shrugged, putting down your book and leaning forward to watch her conversation.

It took her a couple knocks on the door before he answered, with his camera of course. "What are you doing?" She asked him immediately. "I was just seeing who's at the door," he answered, somewhat confused. "With a camera?" She continued to interrogate. "Well I had it in my hand already I was just-" "Look Jay, I know you're lying. First, you tell me some stupid thing about a hotel documentary, then you tell me your house is being renovated, but then you tell me your job was being relocated. What is going on?" She yelled. "It's- it's complicated." He sighed. "You're not acting like a normal person," you chimed in. "Well, what's it matter to you two? You're just some strangers." "I think something's going on," she sighed, "I know something's going on." "Like what?" He scoffed. "We don't know how we got here. You're the only person I've seen other than the staff and my sister, and we have adjoining rooms. I don't even know you, you said it yourself we're strangers," Jessica exclaimed. "Haven't you had any kind of memory loss at all?" You asked him. "I think I'm going crazy," Jessica sighed, "I'm losing huge chunks of time. I'm having pounding headaches and coughing fits and I can't sleep, but when I do sleep, I think I'm sleepwalking. And I keep having these dreams where I'm a little kid and... something's watching me." "Stop," Jay ordered. "What?" She asked, her voice desperate. "Look, Jessica, Y/n, I'll tell you everything but, just, give me a few minutes to get it all straight in my head. I'll be in there soon. You guys should probably start packing some things, cause I'm pretty sure we're gonna have to leave tonight," he confessed. She nodded and you began to stand and pack your stuff as Jessica shut the door. "Leave your door open," Jay warned. She turned away from the half open door and began packing the duffel bag you had woken up with. There wasn't much to pack, just a few clothes and some pills. "Waiting for Jay, then?" You sighed, flopping onto your bed. "Guess so," she shrugged. A knock came at your door while you were waiting. "Who's that? Staff?" You wondered as Jessica went to answer it. She pulled the door open a inch, hoping to see who it was. You jumped up, seeing a large metal object hit her over her head and knock her out. A man with a brown hoodie kicked her out of the way and entered the room fully. He wore a ski mask with red eyes and a frown painted on. He dragged a steel pipe behind him and quickly made his way towards you. As you backed away, you saw another figure enter the room and scoop up your sister and throw her over his shoulder. He wore a brown jacket and had a white mask with feminine features painted on in black. You stood paralyzed in shock, too afraid to yell for Jay or move away from the hooded man as he raced toward you and hit you with the pipe, knocking you out cold. ___ When you woke up, you were in the forest, your back resting against rough tree bark that dug into your back. Judging by the sky, it was pretty late at night and it took a while for your eyes to adjust. As you started to remember what happened, you looked around frantically for Jessica. A scream ripped through your throat when all you saw was the masked man from before sitting only a few feet away from you, his eyes trained on your every move. You scrambled to your feet, hoping to run as far as your legs would take you. However, he grabbed your wrist the second you began to rise, his grip like steel as he pulled you back down. He didn't speak, only held a finger to his painted lips and release your wrist. Embarrassment flooded through you as he continued to stare at you silently, causing you to quickly avert your eyes. You glanced over him, taking the time to notice things you hadn't before. You admired his chocolate brown eyes peeking out from the holes in his mask. His dark brown hair sat slightly tousled, and flared up around the band of the mask. His brown jacket was zipped up halfway, a black shirt showing underneath. Your eyes drifted down to his lap and you gasped and scooted away, watching him twist a switchblade in his hands. Seeing your fear, he followed your gaze to the knife in his hands. He flicked the blade into the hilt and stashed it in his pocket, hoping to calm you down. You released the breath you had been holding, but kept your distance from him for obvious reasons. "Where's my sister?" You asked finally, your voice shaking. He shrugged, staying quiet. "What do you want with us?" Another shrug. "What happened to Jay?" Shrug. "Who are you?" You interrogated, hoping to get a response of any kind. "Masky," he responded quietly. You smiled, having finally gotten to hear his voice. It didn't really match his scary look and made him sound almost normal. "Why're you smiling?" He asked. "Your voice. It almost makes you sound like you're not a psychotic kidnapper," you told him bluntly. He scoffed, "you don't know me." "I know plenty." He let the conversation drop after that, finally opting to stare at his hands rather than you. You sighed and scanned the surrounding forest, searching for... anything. Shockingly, nothing really seemed helpful for your current situation. "What are we even waiting for?" You groaned, becoming quickly bored, despite having been literally kidnapped. "Hoodie," He told you. "Jesus, what is with the names around here?" You laughed. He didn't respond to you, causing you to sigh and move onto a different question. "Why do we have to wait for Hoodie?" "I'm unstable. I can't take you to the safe house because my human side might find out where it is. He's more stable; it's safer for him to take you," he informed you, enlightening you on a lot of things. "You're not human?" You breathed, experiencing the fear you should have been feeling this whole time. He shrugged, "to a certain degree." It scared you how casually he talked about it. You felt yourself slowly shifting away from where he sat as his eyes wandered the surrounding trees. Feeling a surge of adrenaline rush through you, you flew to your feet and began sprinting through the forest. Leaves crunches under your feet and branches snagged at your clothes as you ran. You could hear running behind you, the footsteps behind you, but getting closer after every passing second. Knowing he would catch you any moment, you swerved to the left, hoping to find somewhere to hide or loose him in the trees. Spotting a thick line of trees, you quickly skirted behind it and hid. You held your breath and stood as still as was possible. You heard his footsteps slow down considerably once he neared where you had hid. The thin slivers of moonlight that reached him reflected off his white mask. His head darted around quickly, searching for you. Your chest tightened as you saw him scan the line of trees you stood behind. He glanced through the trees for what seemed like hours. Without warning, his arm shot through the leaves and his hand wrapped around your throat. He yanked you into the clearing as you struggled for breath. "And it was going so well," he sighed before ramming your head into a tree, knocking you out cold.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

[spellsandpixiedust]

11 Mun Questions

tagged by: @gentlegiantingvar

tagging: no one...? because almost everyone’s been tagged already and I guess we’d just be tagging each other back and forth with new questions so I’m gonna be that arse who breaks the chain at this point - sorry

1. What drew you to Tumblr Roleplaying?

A few years ago, when roleplaying on tumblr was still possible without using xkit, I was posting a lot of gifs on my personal blog and this one beautiful rp blog reblogged absolutely everything I did with this one particular actor since he was their muse’s fc). I got curious, checked them out and fell in love with the gorgeous and twisted and gorgeously twisted writing. We talked. We plotted. That’s how it all started on tumblr. Thank you, Luna! You know I love you!

2. Did you RP somewhere else prior to Tumblr? Where else?

Of course. I’ve been roleplaying for sixteen years now. All started out with regular pen and scraps of paper during classes, then we swapped loose paper for small notebooks. It was all just dialogue we noted down (and crudely announcing action by letting the character comment said action - “I leave now” - horrible) and every character had their own colour. (Sharpies are your friends, you know that?) Apart from the only thing that kept me sane during my school career, I have rp-ed on designated roleplay pages, on ICQ (wow, I am THAT old), deviantART and Skype.

3. What is your favorite part of RPing?

That moment you read a reply for the very first time and it’s all like a new episode of your favourite show. All new and exciting and you just absorb every word hungry for more. This and plotting. Fuck, I love plotting and I indulge in some serious character development.

4. What is your least favorite part of RPing?

The fact that I have rarely time for it. Also OOC bitching. No one is better or worse because they write or don’t write a certain way, a specific style, a particular genre or what not. Please respect everyone if you want to be respected. Thank you.

5. Any former muses you miss writing?

Occasionally, yeah. I do miss writing the Master in the Doctor Who verse. Very rarely I miss Zagreus and Rassilon, too. But more like I miss certain interactions, certain relationships they had with others, not so much the muse per se. Rassilon and his daughter(s) was a wonderful angst-fest. Zagreus with most people was a wonderful psychotic, violent sass-fest. Oh, did I mention I’ve been writing villains non-stop for over ten years? Yep. That is exactly why I don’t crave playing my old muses much. I need some fresh air; hence the repenting dark magician.

6. What’s your favorite thing about your muse?

That he can create conflict in ANY situation. And without conflict, sorry, unpopular opinion, a roleplay is bound to whither and die. So if I think things need some spicing up, he’ll see to it. Perfectly in character, of course. 

7. Do you think that if you and your muse were to meet, you would get along?

Yeah, definitely. We’d talk music over a cup of coffee and have a way good time. Only main-muse I ever wrote that would probably not kill me. So... yay?

8. Is there any genre or setting of Roleplay that you cannot stand?

Slice of life? Yeah, that never seemed very captivating. Not for me anyway. Torture porn is also a no go. I mean, I can stomach a lot. Gore, violence - no problem. But people getting off to having their muse mutilated... eh... well, I’d rather not participate in that, thanks.

9. Do you ever reread threads? Which ones?

Of course. I reread threads regularly. Mostly the plot heavy ones with character development and an overarching story line. And smut threads. Because I’m an adult and I can appreciate the poetry of porn. Yes, those threads tend to be the most poetic and beautifully written threads for some reason. This is not a joke.

10. Is there any particular plot or dynamic which you haven’t yet had the chance to RP that you want to? What is it?

I’d love to have Liam interact with someone in his main verse whom he knows from his teenage years or preferably from when he was a petty criminal roaming the country. An ex-boyfriend, a copper, a bully, anyone that would give off real bad vibes upon a reunion (and Liam can hold a grudge forever). Maybe Liam is asked for help and he has to bring himself to cooperate. Or an old enemy challenges him once again? And definitely more young!Liam vs. authority threads. More young!Liam threads in general, really. Less cynical, but definitely not less trouble.

11. What are your favorite books?

Douglas Adams is my favourite author. Yep. This is going to be one of those underwhelming short answers: The entire Hitchhiker series by Douglas Adams. And the Dirk Gently novels, too. 

[fangirlmomentsandmytwocents]

Soul Mates by Nadine Nightingale Release Day Launch

  Title: Soul Mates

Author: Nadine Nightingale

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Release Day: March 10th

About Soul Mates: Alex is a righteous witch hunter. I’m a stab-worthy witch. We loved each other once. Now, we can’t stand to be near each other. It’s my fault. We are natural born enemies, after all. I had to help him save his brother from a psychotic voodoo priest, though. What can I say? I like Little Remington as much as I pretend to dislike Alex. Besides, he promised to never bother me again after that.   He kept his end of the bargain. I left my dubious life behind and started over. All is well. Until—   The truth about a deal with hell is revealed. I have to choose between the ultimate sacrifice or losing jerk-face forever. One will live, one will die. Who, solely depends on my selfishness.

  Get Your Copy Today :

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Kobo | iTunes | Goodreads

Catch Up on the Series:

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Exclusive Excerpt:

I let go of the phone and press the heels of my hands against my temples. Anxiety is a bitch, and I better pull it together before I turn into the witch version of Holden Caulfield. Not that I have anything against the too smart, self-aware protagonist of The Catcher in the Rye, but I firmly believe teen angst should have an expiration date. I look at the digital clock on my nightstand, and my stomach dips a bit. In a little more than an hour, I’m supposed to sit in Penrose’s lecture. DeLuca will be there too, asking questions like, “Why did you whisper some dude’s name while I had you pinned against the closet?” Good times. Can’t avoid the inevitable. Gathering the last bits of energy buzzing through my numb body, I get up and stumble to the bathroom. I climb in the shower. Dipping my head back, I embrace the hot water pouring down my lethargic skin, but every time I close my eyes, I shiver. The blood, the torn flesh, and the fiery eyes haunt me. I turn the faucet, increasing the temperature from hot to I’m-gonna-end-up-in-the-ER-with-second- degree-burns. Why does shit like this keep happening to me? Did I not pay my karmic dues when I helped Alex save Jesse and those kids? Don’t I deserve a freakin’ breather? Some plus points on the cosmic scale? I rest my head against the shower wall, hoping the heat will burn away all the shit that’s bothering me. It doesn’t. Nothing can wash away the void this premonition has left inside me. The hot spray smears the makeup from last night. The scent of my jasmine perfume is replaced by the harsh smell of sandalwood soap. Hell, how I wish everything else would go away as easily. It won’t. Yeah, and I gotta stop pretending it will. By the time I wrap my hair in a towel and slap on a little makeup, I’m certain of three things: I need to get rid of DeLuca before his I’m-a-lovesick-obsessed- asshole act gets worse, my new life sucks, and I will call Alex, consequences be damned. I just put on my panties and bra when loud banging against the front door startles me. Bonnie is still fast asleep, the Nun has a key, and I’m not expecting any visitors. I step into loose jeans, pull a sweater over my head, and walk out of the bathroom. One thing’s for sure; whoever is knocking doesn’t know a thing about patience. The door vibrates, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say someone’s trying to break it down. “Jesus freakin’ Christ, I’m coming.” I yank the door open, ready to unload a shitload of anger, but when my brain processes what my eyes see, I can neither move nor talk. Blood. Bruises. More blood. Alex.

About the Author:

Nadine aka Dini is a traveler at heart. She considers the world her home and practically lives out of her suitcases. When she’s not glaring at a blank page or abusing her poor keyboard, she spends her time reading, watching movies (preferably horror), pretends to work out, and hangs out with friends and family. Poor girl also suffers from a serious Marvel superhero addiction. So, if you run into her at night, wearing black, know she’s secretly dreaming of being the infamous Black Widow. Her love for writing started in the sixth grade where she annoyed her classmates with a short story featuring Sailor Moon characters, a cemetery, and creepy ghosts. Yes, she’s always been addicted to the dark side. Nadine writes paranormal romance. Her debut novel “Karma” the first book in her paranormal romance series Drag.Me.To.Hell. is published by the Wild Rose Press and will be out in May 2016. She has a serious girl crush on her protagonist Amanda Bishop. Nadine has a BA in Comparative Religions and studied Creative Writing at the University of Oxford.  

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[ihorrorvixen]

[Originally written almost two years ago & reposting because I still have so many thoughts & theories as to how this particular sequel could have been so much better while still using The Curse of the Thorn theory.] Thought on Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers Ok, so I have some thoughts about one of the sequels to my favorite horror movie franchises: Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers. This sequel happens to be notorious for a lot of reasons, one of which being the only film in the franchise to have different versions of it; versions we’ve all seen by now.   Years ago while perusing the web looking around for various things I somehow ended up stumbling on a few websites that brought up an alternate version to the theatrical version released in theaters. Talk about mind. blown. . .seriously. I had no idea until then that there were alternate scenes to one of the best sequels in the franchise, so needless to say, I went to work looking around for ways to find what is known as the producer’s cut. It took me years to be able to actually see it before purchasing my own copy but until then all I could hear was people saying how much better the producer’s cut was. When I finally saw it I understood what they were talking about.   While I’ve always thought the theatrical version was badass, there were certain aspects that I never did like and there were other parts to the plot that were better explained in the producer's cut. Plus, the producer’s cut told many of us exactly why Dr. Loomis, played by Donald Pleasence, was screaming at the end of the film while the theatrical version kept us in the dark about that. I mean, was he screaming because he discovered Michael Myers had disappeared? Was he screaming because he suffered some kind of psychotic break after years of chasing Michael Myers for the sake of conquering evil? Was he screaming because alien pods somehow took over his body and the ring leader of the pod people was in fact Michael Myers?   *cue dramatic music*   No, he was screaming because the thorn symbol appeared on his wrist like the dark mark, indicating he was destined to lead the druid cult, taking over for Dr. Wynn. That was so dumb. I hated that with a passion.   Anyway, it was satisfying seeing some of these questions answered in the producer’s cut or at least seeing it further explained in order to get a firmer grasp on it. Now, I want to get to what else I didn’t like about either version. The curse of the thorn theory explained exactly why Michael Myers became evil and began killing the members of his bloodline. I’m sure there are a lot of people who could care less about an explanation as to why he began killing as they saw him as “scarier” if there was no explanation whatsoever. But I’m different. Things are simply not more scary to me because something wasn’t revealed. In fact, I would like to see more of what makes a person like Michael Myers kill and why he seems to be invincible no matter how many times you kill him.   And the curse of the thorn theory was brilliant.   It explained a tradition in which druid priests would choose a child from a specific tribe and inflict this child with the curse for the sake of blood sacrifices on the night of samhain. I’m not Tommy Doyle. I don’t remember what was said word for word, but hey, you’ve seen the movie. You get the drift. This aspect of the curse of the thorn theory was good, as well as the portion where Tommy revealed in the producer’s cut that the evil could be canceled out by using runes of light, however, this should have been left as is. To me the plot was ruined by the inclusion of the druid cult, not to mention the fact that the leader of the cult was none other than Dr. Wynn, a former colleague of Dr. Loomis. . .really? Dr. Wynn? How. Fucking. Stupid. Was. That???   I have no idea what the writers were thinking when they came up with that aspect of the story but I’m just gonna say it -- it was fucking stupid. Sure, the curse of the thorn theory was a great explanation as to why Michael Myers became what he is, but it went too far with that stupid cult that included not just Dr. Wynn but most, if not all of the staff of Smiths Grove Sanitarium. It was also stupid how these “doctors" used their females patients for artificial insemination experiments to create the perfect evil offspring. Come on, now. Slow it down -- let’s rewind it a bit and go back to using non-ridiculous plot points. There was no need to bring in a stupid cult that turned out to be the equivalent of medical Charles Mansons. (seriously, I couldn’t think of a better analogy than that.) Even with the explanation regarding the thorn, a lot of that other shit could have been left out, thereby, still maintaining enough of that mystery that we all love. Don’t even get me started on that old nut, Mrs. Blankenship, who was supposedly babysitting “little Mikey Myers” when he heard “the voice” telling him to kill, which is the night he killed his sister, Judith Myers. Her character, while intriguing, did not need to be embedded that deeply within the story, either.   Now, let me go in on the producer’s cut. The producer’s cut went a little further into the curse of the thorn theory and even included Dr. Wynn trying his best to persuade Dr. Loomis to join their cult. . .   *head desk*   Yeah. . .anyway, that’s not even the worst. It went beyond dumb when it was revealed Jamie Lloyd’s baby daddy was. . . . . .Michael Myers.   *second head desk*   Why. . . . . .WHY???   Fuc. King. Dumb.   If those aspects that I just mentioned were eliminated and the entire curse of the thorn theory was executed in a much better -- entirely different -- way, the film would have been more of a success regardless of which version you’ve seen or prefer. Still, despite these dumbdified plot aspects it was still a good sequel. Ironically the Lord was truly with the makers of this film for it to have stupid plot points and plot holes and yet still be enjoyable to watch. More ironic is that it’s one of my favorite sequels of the franchise. But even being a favorite didn’t exempt it from having things about it I didn’t like. I’m sure I’m not the only person who feels this way.   I still hate that Danielle Harris wasn’t in it as Jamie but I agree that if they were going to kill off her character so soon, or at all for that matter, I wouldn’t want to come back to do that sequel, either.   So, there you go. I just wanted to talk a little bit more about my thoughts on this sequel. I spoke briefly about it in an older blog but I thought now was the time to write a more updated blog on it. I think I’ll write more thoughts on other sequels in the franchise, the remakes, fan fiction, as well as the new Halloween that will be produced by John Carpenter himself. Still ridiculously excited about that.   Until next time, stay scared, fellow vixens. . . UPDATE - 11/15/16 I want to add something to this blog that I'd forgotten about before writing it, explaining in more depth the plot hole issues. I want to reiterate that Michael Myers began killing because he was inflicted with the curse of the evil rune, thorn, by the druid cult, who is also the majority of the staff at Smiths Grove Sanitarium. But what I want to know is why, as a little boy, would any druid cult want to inflict him with any curse in order to kill? When Tommy Doyle was explaining the origins of the curse, he also mentioned that a child from a specific tribe was chosen to be inflicted with the curse of the thorn to sacrifice members of their own family for the sake of saving many others in the tribe from sickness and death. To my knowledge there is no documentation presented in this portion of the plot that suggested any accuracy of the thorn's history, and therefore, isn't truly known if what these druid priests had done was based on fact (likely not) or their beliefs based on the myths about thorn. The only thing that attested to its truth was thorn appearing in a constellation of stars from time to time on Halloween night, which is about the same time Michael Myers came back to Haddonfield to kill. That's about the only thing that makes sense to me. And if you ask me I think this could have been incorporated within the story without that stupid cult. But what Tommy Doyle was referring to when explaining what the curse of the thorn signified was based on Celtic legend. And we all know legends are often based on nothing more than folklore. Which brings me back to the members of the druid cult. Because of the explanation in this particular sequel about the reason for Michael Myers' killing spree, it would stand to reason that this cult existed back in 1963 and caused him to fall under the influence of thorn when he first killed his sister, Judith. And that's where I can't help but wonder how this druid cult knew about Michael Myers in order to inflict him with this curse to begin with? And more importantly, why would they want to? I know they were into the whole evil thing but it still doesn't make sense. This cult inflicted Michael Myers with this evil rune for the sake of evil, so their motives are different than the motives of these ancient druid priests. Still, how did they know of this presumably innocent six year old boy to inflict him? And I ask again, why? Why do that to a six year old boy? One plot hole takes me to another plot hole, and then another, and so on. And I know I'm just doing useless rambling on a movie that's all in fiction, but I can't help but wonder, you know? There's so many ways the filmmakers went wrong when it came to the plot. Which is why I was saying that mentioning what influenced Michael Myers without involving this stupid druid cult led by Dr. Wynn would have been so much better than how it was executed. Hell, the more I attempt to explain this, the more confused I get so if you get confused I don't blame you. I can't tell you how much I wish I was in one of these movies, but more than that I would love to be part of the making of it. I hate the H20 sequel because they eliminated the Jamie Lloyd storyline, thereby, eliminating the curse of the thorn storyline. To me, it was just disrespectful and beyond stupid. So what I would love to do is a film in this franchise that brings back these storylines but do a sort of slight retcon that eliminates the druid cult while leaving the curse of thorn theory intact as best as possible. But that's a dream that might never come true. I've wanted to be in a Halloween film for years, so one day I hope I can work something out. We'll see.

[aquarianlights]

how have you been doing?

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-

No, actually, I’ve been okay. Haha. Thank you for asking. Just been.... adulting like crazy. Like... I scheduled all these appointments at the last second...moved in with my friend and his bf... have driven three hours to these appts and three hours back... every day for a week except yesterday. I had to drive to the fucking DMV and get an NC ID card coz my Drivers License is still Florida.... And idk where my legal residency actually is...lmao. But I had to have an NC ID to get in with the pain specialist. So I drove 2.5 hours to the DMV....got that changed...2.5 hours back. Next day, chronic pain specialist appt. 3 hrs there....3 hrs back... with crippling joint pain.... Next day, psych eval appt. 3 hrs there....3 hrs back. And this all happened like...2 days after I moved here... a close to 4 hour drive...from where I was...and I’m waiting on a fuckton of calls back... but monday is a holiday AHHHHHHH so I can only call certain people and do certain adult things on monday...then I gotta call EVERYONE on tuesday and do all the things I couldn’t do monday on tuesday... I have a whole damn list. So finally...yesterday and today have been free days. So I spent them spending 25 dollars for an application fee to this new college I’m attending as a transient student. I now have 6 vet tech classes and am adding 2 gen ed transient classes. I will have my AA by the end of this coming semester...and have my OTHER AA by the time I have my BA or am almost finished with my BA. And then I will have two AA’s...one in vet tech and one in a medical transfer track degree.... And my BA.... and then onto my masters..IF I PASS THIS FUCKING TEST AND DON’T GET WAITLISTED.I have been relentlessly studying for the TEA’s all weekend. Just nonstop. Started adding exercise coz apparently the treatment for lupus and fibromyalgia is exercise???????? So I just...pop 100mg of lyrica or more in the morning, exercise via sit ups and push ups, make some iced coffee, take a mini jog, go home and do chores like dishes and taking trash out (there’s not a lot to do cleaning wise coz this place is spotless), then I get on my tasks for the day which I have been forcing myself to do no matter how much physical/mental pain I’m in. If I have to take a 5 minute break to slit my wrists or thighs or sides, that’s fine. I do it, play with the blood, feel the endorphin rush, pop more lyrica.....maybe add in some valium if I’m feeling I need it (that’s rare, though...I don’t fuck with benzos too much anymore coz I control my panic disorder through exercises...like...jumping jacks and running and sit ups and acting like I’m in the military and being screamed at by The Rock or something lmaaaooooo...it actually does calm my panic attacks down a fuckton because it forces endorphins through my body and reduces adrenaline and forces me to focus on my breathing...so my valium script is..... well... I pop em when I feel the “need”. or when I actually cannot slow my heart down via a panic attack). Drove to the college here....talked to advisers...they couldn’t help coz they don’t have late start semesters...had to call my other transient class school and cancel coz I don’t live there anymore...went to another college talked to another adviser about transient classes...they set me up with another college...it’s a 45 minute drive, but hey. For two classes? Bruh, I got that.Uhhhhh.....been doing a LOT of paperwork....catching up on vet tech seminars I missed via recordings. Getting in with the “back to work” program with my disability people... TRYING to get a job without getting my disability taken away...but I have to see a rheumatologist first and I’m waiting on a call back from the one my PCP referred me to...and waiting on a call back from my PCP about a fuckton of stuff...she’s a 4 hour drive away so.

trying to find time to make a 12 hour drive to NOLA to get all my stuff and say goodbye to my roommates for 6+ months.

Again, relentlessly studying for the TEA’s coz I’m scheduled to take them this summer after my AA is earned. And I’m legitimately terrified..... I mean, I’m applying to a fuckton of pre-med programs but........... the admit rate for EVERY pre-med program is insane.... Like...if you don’t get a perfect score on all four sections of the TEA’s...you’re fucked. Akjghfkklaglskjf NO CALCULATOR. [internal screaming]

I have a 2-page-long list of things to do on monday and tuesday. Tomorrow is gonna be a bitch. It’s 1:53am right now.....I have to be awake at AT LEAST 8am and I’m STILL studying for the TEA’s but I think I’ve given up coz I was looking at a bar graph and it asked me what kind of graph it was and I put down line graph as my answer and I just looked at what I wrote and was like “....????????” So it was at that point that I knew I needed to stop. They suggest 50 minute study sessions with 10 minute breaks 3-5 times a day for about 6 weeks minimum. My personal TEA’s test guidance counselor person....told me to study for 8 months. He told me the average TEA’s studying is 8 months. I FEEL LIKE I’M ABOUT TO TAKE A FUCKING BOARD EXAM JFC. The TEA’s are so daunting and intimidating....ugh. Shoot me. Like... I have NO PROBLEM with 3 sections...there’s just...1 section...that I’m destined to fail........ So I’m terrified.

Getting psych help. They wanna set me up with an ACTs team. Which is... a doctor, a nurse/PA/CNA/whatnot, a therapist (psychologist), and a psychiatrist. People for med management and for me to talk to. All in one sitting... minimum of 3 times a week.... Coz I’m having anger blackouts as though I have weed in my system and I have NEVER had anger blackouts without an herbal substance in my system, specifically weed. Holy fuck it’s scary. And my intrusive thoughts are no longer thoughts...they’re genuine desires and pleasure dreams. (Not sexual...mental pleasure.) I lost 6 hours of time the other day while sending voice clips to my friends while going over 100 miles an hour on a highway. I sounded literally psychotic in my voice clips (albeit, my diagnoses dictate I am psychotic, I have never sounded like it before). I mean...I could have KILLED people. Or myself. Or both. or animals....Holy fucking hell. 6 hours...a lot of driving... some of it was parking in an abandoned parking lot and doing... I’m not sure what... 6 hours of time gone. And I’m losing more and more time every day due to anger-induced blackouts. I literally called my mother a cunt. I...I attacked her verbally like a 12 year old hormonal boy who needs to be put in a fucking time out. And I have no recollection of it. At all. But the texts and voicemails and call logs are all there. It’s fucking scary coz I could hurt or kill someone...or myself. Came close NYE. Sheriff talked to me NYE....I somehow have this weird theatrical charisma that everyone just....... believes is real when it’s really just me acting. And I talked him down from him being all “There are multiple reports of you having slit your wrists open and downed pills and multiple reports of you saying homicidal things” to “Oh okay I will call them back and tell them you’re okay. You should text them and tell them you’re okay yourself, though.” I was in a hotel for a week....that was... I lost a lot of time there. Going back and forth between the hotel and my PCP. Getting my room in order.... keeping track of my finances for the first time in my entire life.... getting my car switched to my name and under a new insurance...changing my license... lots and lots of document-related stuff...lots and lots of phone calls and voicemails and call-backs...lots and lots and LOTS of appointments.... SO MUCH joint pain. I have lupus and fibromyalgia...but they think it’s a flinching disorder that is in my head from childhood physical abuse and adult sexual and physical abuse. Like...apparently my brain is producing pain and visible lesions akin to lupus, fibro, osteoprorosis, arthritis, etc... and the pain is VERY real...but it’s cured psychologically because it’s psych based...not physical. Like..the physical pain is real...but it’s produced by my brain? If that makes sense? Like...you know the report a million fucking years ago (idk maybe like 5 or 10 years ago???) or that lady (or was it a guy?) who froze to death while trapped in a freezer that was turned off? Yeah, that’s me. I’m the type of person who---if trapped in a freezer that was turned off and I didn’t know it was turned off---would freeze myself to death with my own brain. So...the trauma from childhood physical and mental/emotional abuse and neglect...and trauma from adult sexual and physical abuse and a bit of verbal/emotional abuse....apparently is causing this “flinching disorder”??????????? But I meet criteria for both lupus and fibro...but he thinks it’s this other thing...and ....

Like I said at the beginning...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

Also trying to get Echo here.... but need to go to NOLA first...which I will be doing this month. Figuring out when exactly after Monday and Tuesday’s stuff I need to do..... Go to NOLA for at least a week...come back...get Echo and the rest of my things... Cut a certain two people out of my life entirely. . .SO MUCH TO DO.Fuck, bruh. I’m exhausted and in CONSTANT extreme physical pain BUT.......................................................it’s cool. Did you know you can get high on lyrica? I sure as hell didn’t. I accidentally took over 500mg in one sitting....all at once... Bruh, it felt like I had taken 2 tabs of acid, popped maybe 4 blues, and drank a full Four Loko. It was intense. The walls were breathing, I couldn’t walk, everything was blurry, felt like I was floating, kept dropping things, laughing at everything...couldn’t see...couldn’t read or write... felt tingly all over...  Imagine constant vertigo like...no matter what position you’re in or if you move or stay still. Just.. That feeling you get when you stand up too fast? Yeah. Imagine that.....for hours....no matter what you do... CONSTANT VERTIGO/LIGHTHEADEDNESS FOR HOURS! Felt like I was on a cloud... but also... Even the appropriate doses of lyrica make it so I can’t walk in a straight line.... I keep bumping into walls and falling up stairs and dropping EVERYTHING and falling over ....OH MY GOD I FELL OUT OF BED THE OTHER NIGHT. THIS IS A QUEEN SIZED BED...I WAS ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE....AGAINST THE WALL...AND SOMEHOW I FELL OUT OF BED ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF A QUEEN BED THAT COULD FIT FOUR OF ME.............. ?????????????? I was on the ground like...with the vertigo ...going ... “?????” Oh my FUCK.

I’m not even stressed, though. Like...high pressure, high risk, chaos, spontaneity, impulsivity, self gratification, advancement, pressure pressure pressure, strict deadlines, things that could change at a moments notice, being on call practically all day every day for certain things.... Like... I love it. That’s why I chose emergency medicine... It is when I perform best, when I feel best, and when I can focus best. I can’t focus if nothing is going on around me.... It makes me extremely distracted by my own LOUD AF thoughts and minor whispers of voices that are coming back so SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT WITH MY MEDS but they’re gonna fix it but I refuse to EVER get back on an anti-psych so I will ONLY work with them on trying to fix my current meds or switching to a different mood stabilizer...IDK.

Bought  a fuckton of medical textbooks that I have just been...pouring over...while I should be devoting that time to studying for the TEA’s...... UHAgain... “How am I” is answered as:AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I turn 26 next month. Holy fucking wow................................................................

Uh. Okay. Rant over....Wow, good job, Killian. Verbosity wins again.It’s 2:16am now. Jfc. I need to lay down. My world is spinning. Fucking lyrica, man.........

Thank you for asking, though.... Makes me feel like maybe someone cares about my general wellbeing...or something... Idk. Makes me feel good,though. And happy. Happy that someone cares enough to ask. I appreciate it, fren. I really do. And I hope you’re doing well and thriving like I am. c:

[fangirlmomentsandmytwocents]

Soul Mates by Nadine Nightingale Release Day Launch

  Title: Soul Mates

Author: Nadine Nightingale

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Release Day: March 10th

About Soul Mates: Alex is a righteous witch hunter. I’m a stab-worthy witch. We loved each other once. Now, we can’t stand to be near each other. It’s my fault. We are natural born enemies, after all. I had to help him save his brother from a psychotic voodoo priest, though. What can I say? I like Little Remington as much as I pretend to dislike Alex. Besides, he promised to never bother me again after that.   He kept his end of the bargain. I left my dubious life behind and started over. All is well. Until—   The truth about a deal with hell is revealed. I have to choose between the ultimate sacrifice or losing jerk-face forever. One will live, one will die. Who, solely depends on my selfishness.

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I let go of the phone and press the heels of my hands against my temples. Anxiety is a bitch, and I better pull it together before I turn into the witch version of Holden Caulfield. Not that I have anything against the too smart, self-aware protagonist of The Catcher in the Rye, but I firmly believe teen angst should have an expiration date. I look at the digital clock on my nightstand, and my stomach dips a bit. In a little more than an hour, I’m supposed to sit in Penrose’s lecture. DeLuca will be there too, asking questions like, “Why did you whisper some dude’s name while I had you pinned against the closet?” Good times. Can’t avoid the inevitable. Gathering the last bits of energy buzzing through my numb body, I get up and stumble to the bathroom. I climb in the shower. Dipping my head back, I embrace the hot water pouring down my lethargic skin, but every time I close my eyes, I shiver. The blood, the torn flesh, and the fiery eyes haunt me. I turn the faucet, increasing the temperature from hot to I’m-gonna-end-up-in-the-ER-with-second- degree-burns. Why does shit like this keep happening to me? Did I not pay my karmic dues when I helped Alex save Jesse and those kids? Don’t I deserve a freakin’ breather? Some plus points on the cosmic scale? I rest my head against the shower wall, hoping the heat will burn away all the shit that’s bothering me. It doesn’t. Nothing can wash away the void this premonition has left inside me. The hot spray smears the makeup from last night. The scent of my jasmine perfume is replaced by the harsh smell of sandalwood soap. Hell, how I wish everything else would go away as easily. It won’t. Yeah, and I gotta stop pretending it will. By the time I wrap my hair in a towel and slap on a little makeup, I’m certain of three things: I need to get rid of DeLuca before his I’m-a-lovesick-obsessed- asshole act gets worse, my new life sucks, and I will call Alex, consequences be damned. I just put on my panties and bra when loud banging against the front door startles me. Bonnie is still fast asleep, the Nun has a key, and I’m not expecting any visitors. I step into loose jeans, pull a sweater over my head, and walk out of the bathroom. One thing’s for sure; whoever is knocking doesn’t know a thing about patience. The door vibrates, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say someone’s trying to break it down. “Jesus freakin’ Christ, I’m coming.” I yank the door open, ready to unload a shitload of anger, but when my brain processes what my eyes see, I can neither move nor talk. Blood. Bruises. More blood. Alex.

About the Author:

Nadine aka Dini is a traveler at heart. She considers the world her home and practically lives out of her suitcases. When she’s not glaring at a blank page or abusing her poor keyboard, she spends her time reading, watching movies (preferably horror), pretends to work out, and hangs out with friends and family. Poor girl also suffers from a serious Marvel superhero addiction. So, if you run into her at night, wearing black, know she’s secretly dreaming of being the infamous Black Widow. Her love for writing started in the sixth grade where she annoyed her classmates with a short story featuring Sailor Moon characters, a cemetery, and creepy ghosts. Yes, she’s always been addicted to the dark side. Nadine writes paranormal romance. Her debut novel “Karma” the first book in her paranormal romance series Drag.Me.To.Hell. is published by the Wild Rose Press and will be out in May 2016. She has a serious girl crush on her protagonist Amanda Bishop. Nadine has a BA in Comparative Religions and studied Creative Writing at the University of Oxford.  

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[fangirlmomentsandmytwocents]

Soul Mates by Nadine Nightingale Release Day Launch

  Title: Soul Mates

Author: Nadine Nightingale

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Release Day: March 10th

About Soul Mates: Alex is a righteous witch hunter. I’m a stab-worthy witch. We loved each other once. Now, we can’t stand to be near each other. It’s my fault. We are natural born enemies, after all. I had to help him save his brother from a psychotic voodoo priest, though. What can I say? I like Little Remington as much as I pretend to dislike Alex. Besides, he promised to never bother me again after that.   He kept his end of the bargain. I left my dubious life behind and started over. All is well. Until—   The truth about a deal with hell is revealed. I have to choose between the ultimate sacrifice or losing jerk-face forever. One will live, one will die. Who, solely depends on my selfishness.

  Get Your Copy Today :

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Kobo | iTunes | Goodreads

Catch Up on the Series:

AMAZON US | AMAZON UK | AMAZON AU | Barnes&Nobles | KOBO | Goodreads

Exclusive Excerpt:

I let go of the phone and press the heels of my hands against my temples. Anxiety is a bitch, and I better pull it together before I turn into the witch version of Holden Caulfield. Not that I have anything against the too smart, self-aware protagonist of The Catcher in the Rye, but I firmly believe teen angst should have an expiration date. I look at the digital clock on my nightstand, and my stomach dips a bit. In a little more than an hour, I’m supposed to sit in Penrose’s lecture. DeLuca will be there too, asking questions like, “Why did you whisper some dude’s name while I had you pinned against the closet?” Good times. Can’t avoid the inevitable. Gathering the last bits of energy buzzing through my numb body, I get up and stumble to the bathroom. I climb in the shower. Dipping my head back, I embrace the hot water pouring down my lethargic skin, but every time I close my eyes, I shiver. The blood, the torn flesh, and the fiery eyes haunt me. I turn the faucet, increasing the temperature from hot to I’m-gonna-end-up-in-the-ER-with-second- degree-burns. Why does shit like this keep happening to me? Did I not pay my karmic dues when I helped Alex save Jesse and those kids? Don’t I deserve a freakin’ breather? Some plus points on the cosmic scale? I rest my head against the shower wall, hoping the heat will burn away all the shit that’s bothering me. It doesn’t. Nothing can wash away the void this premonition has left inside me. The hot spray smears the makeup from last night. The scent of my jasmine perfume is replaced by the harsh smell of sandalwood soap. Hell, how I wish everything else would go away as easily. It won’t. Yeah, and I gotta stop pretending it will. By the time I wrap my hair in a towel and slap on a little makeup, I’m certain of three things: I need to get rid of DeLuca before his I’m-a-lovesick-obsessed- asshole act gets worse, my new life sucks, and I will call Alex, consequences be damned. I just put on my panties and bra when loud banging against the front door startles me. Bonnie is still fast asleep, the Nun has a key, and I’m not expecting any visitors. I step into loose jeans, pull a sweater over my head, and walk out of the bathroom. One thing’s for sure; whoever is knocking doesn’t know a thing about patience. The door vibrates, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say someone’s trying to break it down. “Jesus freakin’ Christ, I’m coming.” I yank the door open, ready to unload a shitload of anger, but when my brain processes what my eyes see, I can neither move nor talk. Blood. Bruises. More blood. Alex.

About the Author:

Nadine aka Dini is a traveler at heart. She considers the world her home and practically lives out of her suitcases. When she’s not glaring at a blank page or abusing her poor keyboard, she spends her time reading, watching movies (preferably horror), pretends to work out, and hangs out with friends and family. Poor girl also suffers from a serious Marvel superhero addiction. So, if you run into her at night, wearing black, know she’s secretly dreaming of being the infamous Black Widow. Her love for writing started in the sixth grade where she annoyed her classmates with a short story featuring Sailor Moon characters, a cemetery, and creepy ghosts. Yes, she’s always been addicted to the dark side. Nadine writes paranormal romance. Her debut novel “Karma” the first book in her paranormal romance series Drag.Me.To.Hell. is published by the Wild Rose Press and will be out in May 2016. She has a serious girl crush on her protagonist Amanda Bishop. Nadine has a BA in Comparative Religions and studied Creative Writing at the University of Oxford.  

Connect with Nadine:

https://www.nadinenightingale.com

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorNadineNightingale/?ref=aymt_homepage_panel

https://twitter.com/dini_caroline

https://www.instagram.com/therealnadinenightingale/

https://uk.pinterest.com/dininightingale/

Enter Nadine’s Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway    

FGMAMTC 

Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Google+ / Pinterest / Goodreads / Tumblr / Bloglovin' / Instagram

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