#but even then my hamsters didn’t have a horrible crazy death

[cerealmonster15]

bros don’t put that “hamsters are connected to having fate of gruesome death” post on my dash I don’t wanna SEE IT ❌❌❌

[galpalaven]

burning moonlight

No longer a fledgling, Penny seeks to expand her horizons and get a change of scenery by moving across the country and into the heart of Camarilla controlled New York City. There, she finds trouble just as easily as she’d found it in LA, despite the fact that she’s not even looking for it.

Ah, well. Who wants to spend eternity watching movies on your couch, anyway? What’s the point of being a vampire if your very existence isn’t put to the test once in a while?

-

Pairing: Qadir al-Asmai/The Fledgling (VTM:Bloodlines) (eventually) Word Count: 6600+ words

Note: Beware the amount of OCs to come lmao much anticipated (?) long fic set in New York, 2008

READ HERE ON AO3

Chapter 1: Welcome to New York

Do not stand By my grave, and cry— I am not there,        I did not die.

- Mary Elizabeth Frye

 Death takes a different toll on each living thing.

That’s something she’d learned when she was young, weeping at the grave of her grandmother as the rabbi read her final rights. Her mother did not weep, even as her three crying children clung to her dress. When Penny asked her later why, she’d simply shrugged.

Death is only the beginning. Her energy is all around us, and she will always be with us.

May her memory be a blessing.

The words were pretty at the time, and had soothed her tiny, aching heart. They’d carried her through many other things, including the death of her many (many) goldfish. And that hamster that had mysteriously just… exploded. Her mother’s words had done that for her in other ways, too—growing up, Penny had been certain that there was no one smarter or more beautiful than her mother.

Unfortunately, those lovely words had meant nothing when Death came for Penny’s family once again.

When Ash fell sick, that was the first time she’d seen her mother cry. Horrible, wracking sobs in the bedroom when the phone call came. She still remembers the feeling of prickling, tingling numbness in her fingers as she, her brother, and her sibling stared at each other in the living room. Ash was pale, with deep, dark circles under their eyes, their curly red hair done up in a messy bun. They didn’t hold her gaze long, and when she looked over at her older brother, seeking guidance or courage or something, he was just—absent. His eyes were glazed over, and all any of them could hear were the sounds of their mother sobbing down the hall.

And then the worst happened.

When Penny first heard that not only Ash, but her mother as well, had died mysteriously in some kind of accident, she couldn’t believe it. She still remembers how the words felt like cotton on her tongue when she told her brother later that day. The following few weeks were a blur—the funeral, the distribution of the will, the condolences.

The silence.

It’s no wonder, really, that she and her brother couldn’t stand to speak to each other after that. They went their separate ways within a month, and she remembers vividly the way she’d been able to tell they were thinking the same thing. With no one left to live for, no one left to make proud, they were both planning to spiral until the great black hand of Death came for them, too.

She hadn’t known, of course, that Ilya would end up Blood Bound to a crazy Tzimisce who would Embrace him after going overboard one night. Maybe she would have stopped him if she had.

Maybe she would have stopped both of them if they’d known the real story of what happened to their loved ones. If they’d known that their mother had been Embraced in a random Gangrel attack, that she had spent a month begging any and all Kindred she could find with any ounce of power to please, please save her dying child. That, though Death had come for them both, they were still here. 

It’s strange, the twists and turns her life—and Death—have taken in the past several years.

She can’t bring herself to regret it. Those last few months of her life were wild and terrible, but they’d brought her here. They’d brought them all back together eventually, and now they had all eternity to focus on not losing each other again.

“Ladies and gentleman, we’re beginning our final descent into New York City. Please fasten your seatbelts and return all tray tables and seats to their upright positions.”

Death is only the beginning.

The clouds that had been covering her window for the better part of the last hour part as they make their bumpy descent into New York, and she catches her first glimpse of the city lights. They rise out of the dark void of the Atlantic, burning unbroken into the night. The City That Never Sleeps. If Penny’s heart were still beating, it would be fluttering in her chest as excitement rises deep in her ribcage.

This is her fresh start—her new beginning. A city where no one knows her name or what she’s done; where she can make herself into anything she wants.

Welcome to New York.

The excitement and mysticism of being in New York City wears off almost the second she steps into LaGuardia Airport.

It’s not that the place is bad, it’s just…

Okay, yeah. It’s bad.

She should have listened to Ravan and taken the more expensive flight into JFK.

LaGuardia isn’t just bad, she realizes the longer she spends in it. It’s worse than LAX—and that’s saying something. It’s so bad that by the time she’s managed to find her way to baggage claim and find both of her bags, she’s worked up an appetite and she’s ready to shove the next child that runs across her path like he’s trying to take her out at the knees. She’d forgotten, in the many years it had been since she’d set foot in New York, that the fact that New Yorkers are known for being rude was a very literal problem, and not just some kind of stereotype.

If one more man in an ill-fitting business suit decided to play chicken with her and lose while walking down the terminal, she might just cause a scene. She’s practically suffocating on the lingering remnants of shitty cologne that keep getting rubbed off on her.

Fortunately, the exit comes sooner than she’d expected, and the relief as she steps out into the cool September air has her sighing audibly into the night. The brief respite of the night air is short-lived as the taste of air pollution and gasoline hit her senses, but hey—it’s still better than in there. Penny gives a sigh as she starts off towards where she can see a crowd of strangers, a line of yellow taxicabs waiting to pick up travelers on their way. It’s a sight that is so quintessential to the New York dream that it would have had her heart beating a little faster if she’d still been alive. She’d dreamed of moving to New York when she was growing up, and now she’s here…

Even if it is well after her death, it’s still a dream come true.

She spends a few minutes idling, watching people and wondering at where they all might be going. Some get into taxis, some into hotel shuttles, others into busses—a million disconnected souls, all on their way somewhere, each leading their own paths, criss-crossing infinitely. Some will intertwine, while others will never touch again. And some will even cut others short, like a taught piano wire through supple flesh.

She wonders how many of the people around her are Kindred, and how many are kine. She’d heard that New York had one of the densest Kindred populations in North America, and she wonders if she’ll be able to spot them before they spot her. She eyes the strangers around her as she waits for the shuttle to the rental car lots, trying to guess at the mortality of each one.

She doesn’t get very far in her guessing game. She can feel the heat radiating off of the bodies around her, and the familiar itch of Hunger in her gums tells her that the bodies around her are filled with warm, life-giving blood, pumped through their veins by still-beating hearts. She’d fed well before she departed from Vegas, but the effort to maintain a consistently alive countenance throughout airport security has drained her. She doesn’t know when she’ll be able to feed again, especially considering she doesn’t know the hunting grounds of New York yet—doesn’t know how they are split up, who will take offense to feeding in their territory, who won’t.

Penny has spent a little too long under the protection of powerful friends. She has to remember to tread carefully until she’s made her connections in the city.

She’s distracted from her musings by the shuttle to the rental car lot arriving, stopping by the curb with a familiar whoosh of hot air. She steps forward with the small crowd around her, quickly giving up on the hope of using the luggage racks and instead just opting to hold her shit in front of her while the bus trundles onward. The people around her all look exhausted, and though she’s wide awake, she remembers the heavy nausea and aching muscles that came with taking red-eye flights—especially ones that were more than an hour or two long.

A feeling that is something akin to nostalgia overwhelms her as she watches the city lights out of the windows of the shuttle. It’s times like this, taking public transit, everyone just trying to get to where they’re going, that she feels the closest to her humanity. So much has changed in the past four years, and so much will continue to change, but she’s still just one soul of millions in a city full of hopes and dreams, alive and dead.

Has she always been this sentimental? Or is that just another side effect of Death?

Something to ponder about once she’s finally gotten home, no doubt. Unlife leaves quite a bit of time for thinking about things and philosophizing, at least.

She’s got all the time in the world to think.

  Going through the process of getting her rental is a hassle and a half, much the same as she remembered it from the few times she’d seen Ilya or her mother rent a car (she’d never gotten to be old enough to do it herself). The clerk behind the desk doesn’t want to be there, and they seem to be barely paying attention to her—which is fair given that it’s nearly three in the morning—but the whole exchange is annoying at best. A good twenty minutes have passed by the time she’s finally making her way through the half empty car lot, and it’s put her in a bit of a sour mood.

Moonlight’s burning, she thinks, fumbling with her bag as she shoves her credentials back into it. The only sound that she can hear in the empty lot are the sounds of the city—car horns, sirens, distant music—and the click click click of her heels on the asphalt.

The lot is big enough and quiet enough to make her feel small in a way she hasn’t in a while. Her own shadow stretches to one side, growing as she walks further away from the bright streetlights. The clerk sure had given her the farthest possible car, and the lights in the back of the lot flicker ominously. As she gets closer, the incessant buzzing of the lamp overhead makes her ears start to ring, and she’s quickly losing patience with this whole night.

She reaches the car finally, and finds that it’s directly under one of the streetlights that’s gone out completely.

Of course. Why wouldn’t it be out completely?

Something in her stomach twists uncomfortably as she eyes the shadows around her rental car, waiting to catch movement in one of them. Realistically, she knows that she’s functionally immortal, and if someone wanted to attack her now she would just have herself a midnight snack and be on her merry way—but the paranoia that had been ingrained into her from birth is a hard habit to break. It sits in her gut like a stone, muscles in her chest tightening, every part of her body ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. She unlocks the door and pops the trunk for her baggage, but she can’t shake the strange feeling of being watched as she throws her bags in. The Beast is alert just beneath her ribs, metaphorical ears pricked to catch even the slightest movement of an attacker.

God, she hopes she doesn’t have to have a Masquerade violation on the very first night she’s in the city.

That thought sits on her mind like mud, sinking into the crevices as she peeks into the rental through the windows, checking the floorboards for any signs of an intruder. When she can find nothing, she lets out a quiet sigh, shaking her head in an attempt to shake off the strange jitters prickling along her skin. It’s like static in the air, the feeling of something lurking just out of sight, and she’s eager to get on her way before she finds out what it is.

“…going somewhere?”

The only thing that keeps Penny from screaming is the knowledge that she, as a Kindred, is probably more powerful than whoever said that.

She doesn’t look at whoever it is, quite pointedly refusing to acknowledge the stranger in order to keep them from getting any wrong ideas as she chirps a simple, “Just leaving!” as she opens her car door. She slides into the driver’s seat as fast as she can and goes to slam the door shut—

—but she isn’t fast enough.

A large, strong hand catches her door before she can pull it closed. Even with her supernatural strength, she can’t seem to yank it free.

Great.

With nothing else left to do but look at who has accosted her tonight, she looks upward and finds…

…a very tall, very handsome man staring down at her.

He’s got his hand braced firmly on her door, with the other propped up on the roof of the car. His body blocks her from escaping without having to put herself between his arms. As he leans down just slightly to get a better look at her, some of his long, dark hair falls over one shoulder, framing his face in the dim lighting. His eyes catch some of the distant fluorescence coming from the nearest street light, glinting golden in the dark, and she realizes quite suddenly—judging from the sickly pallor of his brown skin, the gauntness of his cheeks—that this must be another Kindred. And a high-up one at that, if his perfectly tailored Armani suit means anything.

Her eyes drop to his mouth, tracing the shadow of his beard to keep her nerves from buckling under the pressure of his aura that seems to be growing by the moment. 

“…I didn’t feed here,” she says softly. The words feel like cotton in her mouth. “My flight just got in about an hour ago. I was just on my way home.”

The stranger just snorts, shocking her a little as she watches the stoic mask on his face twist, and a predatory smirk takes its place. She catches a flash of sharp, white canines as he grins at her.

“I know that,” he says simply. 

…okay? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?

She blinks at him. 

“What do you want?”

“I’m here to pick you up,” he says, still grinning. It’s not flirtatious, nor does he look like he’s going to eat her on the spot—it’s just… matter of fact. Direct. To the point. He almost sounds bored, the smile on his face the dead-eyed smile of someone performing customer service.

“I… just rented this car,” she says, unsure of herself. “Like, thanks, but I don’t need a ride?”

He sighs, chuckling and dropping his head. The movement sends more of his hair tumbling over his shoulders, and it frames his face beautifully when he raises his head to look at her again. 

“That wasn’t an offer, Miss Fisher.” Her dead heart stutters once at the sound of her name, and she feels like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. How does he know her by name? “You’re going to take a ride with me, unless you want to do this the hard way. Which,” his smirk deepens as he looks over the car towards the rest of the lot, “is up to you. I can do either.”

A threat if she ever heard one.

Fortunately, being kidnapped is nothing new for her at this point of her unlife, so she just sighs and gives a half-hearted shrug. When you’re already dead, it’s easy to be blasé about mortal danger—especially when it comes in such a pretty package. And no, she isn’t sure if she was always this shallow, but she likes to look at the bright side of things whenever she can. 

She wouldn’t have survived Los Angeles by night if she hadn’t had a certain chipper outlook to the things Fate has continuously thrown at her.

“Fine,” she says, smiling up at her kidnapper. “I’ll go with you willingly, so long as you drop me off at my haven afterwards—assuming you’re not taking me to my Final Death, of course.”

A dark, thick eyebrow quirks at her request. “Sure. Anything else?”

“A rain check isn’t on the table, is it?” 

He laughs. “No.”

“Ah, well,” she sighs, turning the car off and looking up at him expectantly. “Where are we going?”

The tall, handsome stranger steps back, sweeping an arm out in an almost grandiose gesture, bowing his head a little. She quirks an eyebrow at him, unable to fight back the urge to be slightly impressed. She does have to admit that this is the most polite kidnapping she’s ever been a part of—no bags thrown over her head or stakes through the heart. Hell, this might as well be the kidnapper version of buying her dinner first, it’s so nice.

“We’re going for a ride,” he says, offering no more explanation than that.

Fair enough.

She steps out without any more fuss, part of her mourning the fact that she’d foregone her platforms for combat boots on account of the fact that she’d been on a plane for around 6 hours tonight. Rather than meet him eye to eye, she comes to just below his chin as he straightens up to his full height, though there’s still a flicker of something in his eyes as he looks down at her.

“…huh,” he mumbles, shutting the door behind her.

She raises her eyebrow at him again. “What?”

“Thought you’d be taller,” he says absently, shrugging. 

Oh. He’s a bitch. 

Penny can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips, cocking her hip and watching him start towards a dark vehicle parked across the way. His strong shoulders create a sharp, straight line in the cold fluorescent light beaming from the street lights around them, so broad against the night that it makes her feel a little bit warmer just looking at him. His hair is long and dark, and it shines in the moonlight, cascading just between his shoulder blades. 

Some first night this is turning out to be.

Climbing into the back of his black car with its tinted windows reminds her of LA, climbing into the back of Sebastian’s driver’s car that one night—but she can’t say whether that’s a good thing or not.

She supposes it could be either, depending on how she looks at things. This probably isn’t meant to be a good thing—just a show of power, if nothing else, but it might also be her ticket in to making a good impression on her new neighbors.

And so, she does what she does best.

She plays stupid.

“Is this how you greet all new arrivals to New York City?” she asks idly, crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat. The picture of confidence and ease, though she watches his gaze carefully in the rear-view mirror. She smirks a little as she adds, “A show of dominance from the ruling class. What’s a little extortion between Kindred, eh?”

He doesn’t laugh, but she can see his lips curl. Is that a sense of humor she sees?

“Only the dangerous arrivals,” he says after a moment. “One of the biggest Anarchs in the Northern Hemisphere showing up on our doorstep is always a cause for concern.”

“Hah!”

Penny laughs, tossing her head back in mirth. She can feel his gaze burning into her in the reflection like an actual, physical touch as she shakes her head, looking out the window at the lights of the city. She has no idea where they are or where they’re going, which she imagines is exactly what he wanted. 

“Anarch. That’s a good one,” she compliments. 

“I fail to see what’s so funny about that statement,” he replies, voice flat. He’s not looking at her anymore. “There’s not a member of the Camarilla in North America that doesn’t know what you did in Los Angeles.”

Ah, there it is. A member of the Camarilla—so she’d guessed right.

“You’re giving yourselves far too much credit when it comes to what happened in LA,” she says. “What I did as a fledgling was nothing political—hell, it wasn’t even anything personal. It was a matter of survival.”

“You expect me to believe a random fledgling just coincidentally joined forces with the leader of the Los Angeles Anarchs and blew up the Prince of Los Angeles four years ago?” 

Those cold eyes are back on her in the mirror, hot now with annoyance, anger—and something like the look a hungry lion gets looking at an injured gazelle. The first tickle of fear starts to trickle down her spine as an aura of dread starts to ooze from him, but she knows the feeling of another vampire’s gifts well, and finds herself able to stomp out the urge to cower. 

She quirks an eyebrow, shrugging halfheartedly, easy smile still painted on her lips. 

“I don’t expect you to believe a word I say. Whether you believe me or not doesn’t change the truth—and the truth is, everyone in Los Angeles wanted to use me for their own gain. I picked the side that I thought best suited the political landscape of the city.”

“And anarchy suited the city?”

“The Anarchs ruled LA for over 50 years before Sebastian LaCroix got it in his empty little head to try and take over by force. Had it not been for his Sheriff, I doubt he would have lasted the first week he was in the county bounds—he got what was coming to him.”

“That’s your explanation for assassinating a Camarilla Prince in cold blood.” 

Her kidnapper doesn’t sound impressed, one thick eyebrow raising as he brings his gaze back to her face in the mirror.

“Well, I didn’t rig the sarcophagus with the bomb, first of all,” she says, shrugging and looking out the window again. She won’t elaborate beyond that—he doesn’t need to know that her Sire was the one who made the attempt on the Prince’s life. 

They slow to a stop at a red light, and her gaze meets the hard stare of someone standing in an alley just beside them. Whoever it is seems to be able to see through the tinted windows, firelight from their match lighting the cig in their mouth making their irises flash in the darkness. She wonders how many Kindred there are roaming the streets of New York.

“Second of all,” she continues after a beat of silence, rapping her fingernails in a staccato rhythm against the arm rest on the door, “Sebastian LaCroix survived that explosion. So what have you got to be upset about, really? Los Angeles is a lawless hellscape even when it comes to humans—seems like the kind of place the Camarilla would hate.”

He hums in acknowledgment, turning down a random side street. She wonders how much of this is just to waste time to continue his interrogation, and how much of it is to just confuse her. There’s a familiarity to all of this—the way he moves, the way he speaks—that suggests that she is not the first he’s taken on a ride this way, nor will she be the last. 

She takes a chance.

“Do you disagree, Sheriff?”

His eyes flash, gaze darting to hers in the reflection, surprise clear in the amber, and she can’t help herself as she smirks, sliding a little further down in her seat. It’s a playful look—she can see her own reflection in the mirror, expression inviting and confident, red hair spilling across her shoulders a stark mess against the black of her shirt and the seats. This is all a dance, and it’s one that she knows well.

The question now, of course, is: does he know the steps like she thinks he does?

He tilts his head, unblinking as he considers her, before he says, “The Camarilla are the best way forward for Kindred society. That means that even ‘lawless hellscapes’ like Los Angeles are places we need to gain control of in order to unify our people and uphold the Masquerade.”

Hmm. Diplomatic and to the point. 

Interesting.

She shrugs, looking back out of the window. “I don’t disagree with that either. I don’t consider myself Camarilla, but I have no problem submitting to their rule most of the time. I spent the past few years in Las Vegas hanging out with some of the Vegas Council—I had no problem with the Camarilla there. Made friends with a member of the Prince’s inner circle, even, while I was there.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m sure you do,” she sighs, inspecting her black fingernail polish and frowning at a place where it’s chipped. “But I also don’t think you really believe I killed a thousand-year-old Banu Haqim elder just for the keys to his New York haven—I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

Again, she gets the sensation that she’s thrown him off in the silence that follows. 

The Sheriff actually averts his eyes, staring ahead at the road to give himself a moment to choose his words carefully. She watches him chew his thoughts over as they drive in silence, nothing but the sound of the air conditioning and the road between them. 

Eventually, when he doesn’t speak, she returns her attention to the glistening lights of New York out of the window. It had rained that day, it looked like, and the lights of the city reflect off the puddles on the pavement in a way that gives the whole scene a dreamy sort of look. It makes her feel a bit hollow in her gut—summer rain had been one of her favorite parts of living in a city. She always loved the way the rain made the streets glisten and glimmer like a painting.

“You’re not what I expected.”

The Sheriff’s voice distracts her from her musings, and she looks back towards the front of the car to find his eyes on her again. 

His face gives away nothing.

“Is that a good thing?” she asks, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

He hums, eyes darting back to the road as he pulls seamlessly into a parallel parking spot. 

“That remains to be seen.”

…yeah. That’s fair, all things considered.

“Well,” she says, confused as to why they’ve stopped, “maybe it will be.”

He snorts, looking away towards the sidewalk of the building they’d pulled up to. “Maybe,” he allows. “Your haven is just outside. Don’t go anywhere else—I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Ah. Do the Camarilla really want to meet me so badly?” 

He doesn’t look at her, but he does smirk, still looking out the windows. The moment that passes between them in silence, nothing but the sound of the wet asphalt under the tires of the cars passing by to break it, almost feels like it lasts an eternity. Without a heart to keep time, she’s not good at feeling the passage of time anymore, and when he says nothing, she figures he must not be planning to say anything at all and starts to get out.

“It’ll be… interesting.”

The sound of his voice makes her pause, halfway slid towards the other side of the car to get out on the sidewalk. She glances back at the mirror and finds him watching her, a curious, almost calculating shine in his eyes. She’s really not sure what to make of him, of this, but she finds herself smiling regardless. The dance of undead politics is one she’d often found tedious since she’d been new dead, but she can’t say that this isn’t kind of fun. Talking had always been one of her favorite things to do, after all.

“It will be,” Penny says, breaking his gaze and sliding the rest of the way out of the car. “I look forward to it.”

He snorts, but the way that he turns back forward in his seat is indication enough that this conversation is over for the night. He probably has other places to be than driving her around the city—with probably several hundred thousand Kindred in the NYC city limits alone, he must be busy from dusk to dawn each and every night. 

What a boring immortal existence.

  She doesn’t look back when she hears the car pull away from the curb and join the cacophony of New York City traffic, too taken with the glittering highrise he’d dropped her off at. She’d known, intellectually, that Ravan’s haven in New York would be glitzy—the man’s been alive for a thousand years, and she’s not sure what he did for the majority of that, but he does have a very successful fashion design business, on top of… well, there’s honestly no telling. 

Penny, for the first time in a very long time, feels almost underdressed as she steps through the glass doors of the building and into the lobby, dragging her suitcases behind her. The interior design of the lobby can’t be described as anything else other than gaudy, with every surface glittering and dripping in gold and white marble. The light that shines down from the huge chandelier hanging in the center is somehow a combination of white light and warm yellow, giving the whole lobby a much more cozy feel than you might have expected from the decorations and all of the marble. Plush red rugs muffle the sound of her footsteps as she steps forward towards the concierge, giant tropical plants lining the edges of the counters and decorating the corners making her feel more like she’s just stepped into an exotic resort rather than a ritzy apartment building. 

The concierge behind the desk looks completely unenthused to be there, which she finds oddly refreshing. It’s good to know that, even in this spotless, glamorous building that the minimum wage staff is still less than pleased to be there. 

“Can I help you?” the stranger drawls as she approaches the desk.

Unsure of herself, Penny clears her throat and reaches into her bag to pull out the letter that Ravan had given her. 

Give this to the kid at the desk, he’d said, handing her a sealed envelope with a wink. They’ll let you in without a fuss.

“Um, I was told to give this to you?” she says, sliding the closed envelope across the counter. 

The dark circles under the receptionist’s eyes stand out starkly against their pale skin, almost translucent even under the warm lighting. They open it, unfolding the letter inside and scanning it with as much interest as someone looking at a car magazine that was sitting on the table in a waiting room. About halfway through, their eyes widen, and a hot flush rushes up their neck and into their ears—Penny watches the artery in their neck jump with excitement, and her mouth starts to water at the sight.

“Crazy old man,” they mumble, shaking their head, but the ghost of a smile touches their lips as they look up at her. “Right. Pendragon’s got one of the penthouse suites on the upper floors. Only the last elevator on the back wall goes up that high—here’s your keycard. You’ll need it for the elevator, too. Let me know if you need anything else. My name’s Anya.”

“Anya,” Penny repeats, smiling a little as Anya seems to take a moment to give Penny a once-over. Judging by the look on her face as she lingers on her curvy midsection, she likes what she sees. “Thanks. Have a good night.”

“Hm. You, too.”

Penny makes a note of the tired receptionist as she moves away from the front desk, clutching the smooth piece of plastic that is the keycard in her hands as she makes her way to the elevator. She’d heard the rumors that the old Banu Haqim had ghouls all over the world, that he made sure that each of his servants had a good several months worth of his blood sitting in their fridges or freezers for a long while, but she hadn’t been sure if she’d believed all that. Seeing how far his reach seems to stretch, though—and the way the receptionist had barely blinked at the letter she’d been handed—there must be some sliver of truth to all of that.

The elevator is waiting when she steps up and scans the card. There must not be many others on that floor—or if there are, they’re already asleep.

Or maybe this whole building was full to the brim with Kindred. How would she ever know, in a city that never sleeps, with eight million souls wandering its streets?

The ride up is long—longer than she’d expected, and she finds herself staring absently at her own reflection in the gilded doors in front of her.

She’d always been pale, even in life, but now the dark circles beneath her eyes stand out like bruises where the blue blood of her veins has settled permanently. She doesn’t make it much better with the dark eye makeup she applies to her eyes every night, but she likes it that way. In life, it had made men leave her alone when she was out and about, but unfortunately the size of her tits and the long red hair had still made her a target for street harassment. Part of the reason she’d started dressing in all black had been to combat that, but she thinks it’s funny now especially—LaCroix’s comment about her dressing like a vampire being a Masquerade violation hadn’t been far off. 

She’s sure she probably should be upset about the fact that she’s lost no weight since becoming a vampire, since she’d heard had tended to become more emaciated without food, but she’s quite pleased about it. It had been a long road to loving her body back when she still had a heartbeat, but she’d been at a place where she had no plans to attempt to lose weight before her death, and she’s glad that her body is still familiar.

When so much about her world has changed, it’s good that the face in the mirror has remained the same.

Eventually, the elevator comes to a smooth stop and the gilded doors before her slide open again with a quiet whoosh, revealing a similarly extravagant hallway beyond it. As she steps off the elevator, she remembers that the employee hadn’t given her a suite number or anything and, looking at the card, it’s not written anywhere on the key either. There’s a brief moment of annoyance as she thinks she’s going to have to go back down and ask again which apartment she’s going to—until she sees a symbol on one of the doors. It’s blatant and almost dangerous to have the Banu Haqim clan crest emblazoned so boldly on the apartment door, even if it is intertwined with other designs, but she figures that must be where she’s going. She hesitates for just a moment, hair on the back of her neck rising at the sensation of something wrong with the door, until she realizes what it probably is.

Of course an elder wouldn’t leave a haven unprotected, even when he’s not actively using it. There are wards on the door to keep out those who might have nefarious intentions and, if she’s guessing right…

The sensation of foreboding vanishes when the keycard touches the lock, the green light on the door flashing to signify being unlocked. She can see another flash of light from the other side of the door, a gold glow that dissipates in another half a second. The wards have been temporarily deactivated.

She’s not sure what she was expecting when she opens the door and steps cautiously into the dark apartment, but somehow the sight that greets her as she flicks on the light is still far more glamorous than she’d been expecting. The whole place has a very open concept, floor to ceiling windows on the far wall giving an absolutely breathtaking view of the city beyond. The kitchen that she passes is newly remodeled with all black appliances, the sofa in the living room a huge, plush, black sectional facing an absolutely massive TV. There’s a wall lined with bookshelves on the far side of the living room, each shelf absolutely filled to the brim with books upon books. There’s a dining table in front of the window, a spiraling chandelier just above. Out on the veranda just outside, she can see that there’s an infinity pool and a hot tub just waiting to be used.

Talk about moving up in the world—she wishes that she could take pictures and send them to her mother. This place is ridiculous. 

She drifts through the apartment, taking in the lavish surroundings as she turns on lamps and overhead lights, until she finds the single bedroom. Against the wall, facing the giant windows, there's a big king-sized bed covered in a pile of pillows and blankets. Penny wanders over to it and sides on the big, soft comforter, picking up a remote sitting on the bedside table. There are a lot of little buttons on it, each with varying little icons. There doesn’t appear to be a TV in the room that she can see, nor is there a radio, so she can only assume it does something to the lights or the walls or something.

One button looks like it has a little set of curtains on it so, curiously, she decides to press it.

A mechanical whirring noise fills the air and, out of a slat in the wall, enormous black out curtains draw themselves across the windows on a track in the ceiling.

Penny laughs as they slow to a stop, swaying and drenching the room in darkness.

“Sick.”

She looks back down at the remote in her hand, pressing another button with a TV icon on it just to see what would happen. Another mechanical whirring noise signals the appearance of something else, and she nearly loses her mind when a full entertainment center with a television and video game consoles rises out of a platform in the floor.

What the fuck? How rich is this bastard?

Baffled and a little bit overwhelmed by the fact that this is her haven now, Penny finds herself flipping one of the bedside table lamps on and sets to unpacking. It may be half past three, but she’s still got a good hour or so before the sun starts to rise so she might as well at least get some of her clothes out. Hell, maybe she’ll even pick out an outfit to wear for the ‘event’ tomorrow night before the day-sleep takes her.

She’s not sure if she’ll be able to make a good impression on the Camarilla, but she may as well try. 

After all, if she survived all that bullshit with the Sabbat in LA, surely she can survive New York, right? 

What’s the worst that could happen?

[nobodyfamousposts]

Mi-Crack-ulous Crackdown: Robodrien

Possible trigger warning. No one actually gets hurt (technically), but implications are still made.

Adrien’s mistake was that he had listened to Plagg. But Plagg insisted he had an “amazing idea” that would totally be worth the hassle. Which right away should have been his first indicator that things were going to go horribly wrong.

Well, that’s not quite true. The real first indicator was when his father informed him that he would be dating Lila to help promote the company brand. And that was indicator enough that things were already going horribly wrong.

At that point, Adrien reasoned that there was really nothing Plagg could suggest that could possibly make things worse.

“You just have to fake your death.“

“Sounds perfectly reasonable.“

In Adrien’s defense, he was a teenage boy. And teenage boys were prone to doing stupid and overly dramatic things.

Given his status as a model and “perfect”, as well as his overwhelming need to please, Adrien had been foregoing this rite of teendom. So really, it was a long time coming.

The plan was simple. They would arrange a “prank“ where Adrien would appear to become deceased through some over the top fashion. His overly dramatic death would be attributed to the multitude of reasons outlined in the 14 page long note that Adrien left behind. Not that it NEEDED to be 14 pages but Adrien apparently had more grievances than expected.

With the note set on his bed where it would surely be found soon enough, Adrien and Plagg headed off to the school with the necessary equipment to give the illusion of his false demise. Rope. Some electronic equipment with a pulley and remote. And of course, the wax statue of Adrien to serve as his body double.

How they managed to actually get to the school with his wax statue without anyone stopping him or even noticing him remains open for debate. But it could, perhaps, be attributed to Adrien’s good luck. Mostly because that’s the point that said luck ran out and everything started to go horribly wrong.

Or right, if you’re Plagg.

In short order, the rope wasn’t fully tied and pulley wasn’t fully in place when Adrien tripped and knocked into everything, causing his carefully collected tools to fall off the edge of the school roof. The remote, the equipment, the wax statue, everything went falling over the ledge and landing in a clatter, utterly breaking apart. Pieces of metal and wax body parts scattered across the ground.

Right in front of a crowd of shocked (and possibly soon to be traumatized) onlookers.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” Plagg mused.

“Plagg!” Adrien hissed. “Now everyone’s going to know something’s up and I’m not going to get another chance! Then I’ll have to date Lila and Ladybug won’t want to date me and we’ll never get married or run away to our own island and have a hamster named—”

“Come on, it’s a mess of parts and pieces. It’s not like they’d figure out what happened or that you were involved.”

“OH MY GOD, IT’S ADRIEN AGRESTE!”

Adrien sent Plagg a withering look.

The kwami just shrugged.

It was over. It was over before it’d even gotten a chance to begin. Everyone would know how Adrien stupidly tried to fake his death with a wax mannequin of himself. Then it would get back to his father who would be annoyed but otherwise unconcerned and he would be confined to his room unless he was on a “date” with Lila and honestly, he wasn’t sure which was worse at this point.

“Wait...what’s with all the sparking bits?”

“And why did Adrien fall apart when he hit the ground?”

There was nothing left to do but face the music and admit to what he had done. He could only hope they would be lenient. After all, with all the proof right in front of them, the conclusion everyone would come to was obvious.

“OH MY GOD, ADRIEN AGRESTE WAS A ROBOT!”

Of course, “obvious” doesn’t amount to much in Paris, where limited braincells had to be spread out between a populous that includes but is in no way limited to a man akumatized 24 times because of his pigeon obsession, a principal who moonlights as a furry, a guy who believed ice cream was actual magic, a wannabe supervillain who less than cleverly stole his evil plans from old comic books and designed his monsters after off brand 90′s reject toys, and an old man whose bright idea of dealing with said supervillain was to pick out two random teenagers to hand off the exact magical items the supervillain was after.

Really, it was no wonder everyone kept falling for Lila Rossi’s lies without even thinking to check. Clearly there was something in the water.

Adrien and Plagg merely decided to take advantage of the confusion of the growing conspiracy theory to vacate the premises and hope that by tomorrow, the whole thing blows over.

...Naturally, by the next day, the whole thing had not blown over. In fact, not only had it NOT blown over, but if anything, this crazy claim had somehow only grown in the meantime and soon become rooted as fact.

As was clear when Adrien entered the classroom.

“Wow, they got a backup Robot Adrien already?” Rose asked in surprise.

“What?”

Which seemed to be the catalyst that set off everyone else.

“Robro! Welcome back!” Kim exclaimed, cheerfully.

“Thank you?”

“We were worried yesterday, Adrien. We didn’t know you had replacement bodies.”

“Replacement...?”

“How many of those things do  you have, anyway?” Alix asked, curious.

“How many of what?”

“I should have seen it!” Max insisted, looking over his phone with an almost crazy light in his eyes. “Clearly Agreste Industries was a front for a high tech robotics factory in the guise of a fashion company! How could I have been so blind?”

“Wait—no. That’s not—”

“Hey Adrien.” Nino said, placing his hand on Adrien’s shoulder consolingly. “I just want you to know that I don’t think anything different about you. No matter what, you’re still real to me.”

“But I am real?”

“Yeah! You didn’t have to hide that you were a robot.” Mylene reassured him.

“Because I’m not?”

“Yeah, you have heart. That makes you real enough.” Ivan said with a resolute nod.

“But...I really...”

Markov of all people flew up to Adrien. “I’m so glad to know I’m not the only non-human in class anymore.”

No. Markov, no. You’re gonna break his heart...

“Ridiculous! Utterly RIDICULOUS!” Came the shout as Chloe stormed into the room, a harried-looking Sabrina following after.

Adrien blinked. “Chloe?”

His childhood friend gave him a speculative look. “I was sure you were real. But if you are a robot, there’s got to be a whole line, right?”

“Um...”

She flipped her hair. “You peasants can keep the used ‘public’ version. I am going to order a NEW Adrien Robot. No—a dozen!”

He balked. “Chloe?”

Wow. He’d known she could be mean sometimes, but...wow. Wow.

He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know how Lila was going to react if this was any indication...

Or Kagami.

Or—

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to bring so I just brought one of everything and I hope it’s okay!”

Adrien blinked at the sudden appearance of a box.

A familiar box with the logo of the Dupain-Cheng Bakery.

A box that seemed to be overflowing to the point where the lid was nearly coming off due to the bulk of what was inside.

From behind the box of delightfulness, Marinette looked up at Adrien in worry and he felt something in him clench.

“I just...I heard what happened and I felt so bad so I thought I would bring something to help and...” She wilted.

Okay.

Okay, that was IT.

His little “prank” made his friends think he was a robot! They were cool with it, which was great and all, but it wasn’t true! He was human and they needed to know that!

There was no way he could let this continue!

“Wait...do robot boys eat sweets?” Marinette asked, surprised.

...

...

...

Screw it.

“Yes.” Adrien said, brightly. “Yes, we do. We have internalized distributors that break it down and convert it to fuel. It keeps up my energy levels, so the more the better.”

The brightness of Marinette’s smile was only outshone by the delightful smell of the rich buttery pastries she put in his hands.

[jenonctcity]

Chances - Part 6

Na Jaemin/Huang Renjun – Fluff/Angst

Ex-husband!Jaemin/Husband!Renjun

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: None.

Request: Requested by anon – Your past with Jaemin, the pregnancy, the divorce, and how you meet and marry Renjun.

A/N: Just in case this is confusing for anyone, this is part of the Chances series. It does go with the current story of Chances and is going to be set out like a timeline of the events that happened before the series took place. However, it can be read as a standalone piece or like a prequel. But I would recommend checking out the other parts of this series if you get confused. Hope you enjoy!

 Meeting Jaemin:

University was kicking your ass. Between your daily classes and your demanding job at a restaurant, you were left feeling tired and emotionally drained. You didn’t have a choice but to carry on though, money being tight and your education costing you far too much money to skip any nugget of information they were willing to provide you. You had little to no social life, the only person you really interacted with was with your roommate, who herself wasn’t much of a talker. Loneliness consumed you at all the wrong times, it mostly happened late at night after a shift at the restaurant. You’d tuck yourself into bed and let out a sigh, wishing you could cross the room and nudge your roommate awake for a chat. But you didn’t know the girl well enough to do that and you were almost certain it would make her dislike you.

The day you tripped down a couple of steps at university from not paying attention to your feet as much as someone as tired as you were should have, was the day that changed your life. Your wrist was causing agony to throb through your nerves, all your pain receptors on red alert and forcing you to call in sick to work to head to the emergency room. It was absolutely heaving with people of all ages due to it being a Friday evening. There were only 3 seats left available and you weighed up your options as you studied the people, they were situated next to. A drunk couple who both had similar cuts on their foreheads, you could only assume they’d done something highly dumb to end up with those injuries. An old man who was slouching into the free seat next to him as he started dozed off, his eyes dark underneath like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He looked like he tried to fight off sleep until he started to have a coughing fit, sitting up straight and coughing into his hands. And finally, a young man who had bleached blonde hair dyed a light pink, dressed from head to toe in a black adidas tracksuit, his arms folded across his chest and his knee jittering as he waited. You were unaware what he was waiting to be seen for as you couldn’t see any physical injuries on him, but as you looked between all three options again, you decided he was the lucky winner.

You quickly approached him, hugging your wrist to your chest as you cleared your throat, gaining his attention as he looked up at you.

“Is this seat taken?” You asked, smiling weakly at him.

“No, go ahead.” He copied your smile, watching you for a moment as you sat beside him. You looked around the emergency room, trying to find something remotely entertaining to watch, also regretting that you didn’t bring the book you’d been trying to finish for the past 2 months with you. “What did you do to your wrist? Or is it your hand?” You heard the boy ask you, his voice deep and his tone was warm.

“I er…tripped down some stairs.” You looked at him and laughed softly. “Not my finest moment.” You winced as you jostled your wrist by accident when you moved it to your lap instead of cradling it to your chest. “What are you in here for? You don’t look like you did something dumb and injured yourself.” You tried to joke with him, this being your only form of entertainment. The longer you looked at the handsome boy the more you became self-conscious of you what you assumed was your messy state. You hadn’t actually seen your reflection since you’d left your dorm that morning, but you presumed your hair had gotten messier, and your mascara had smudged from the tears you’d shed upon your unexpected meeting with the hard ground.

“Oh no I’m not here for me, I’m just here as support.” He flashed you a wide smile, motioning to the boy sitting beside him whose eyes were swollen shut. “Dummy over here forgot about his hay fever allergies and went running through a field of flowers like Bambi on crack.” He sniggered when his friend reached out to hit him but missed due to his lack of eyesight. Merely swiping at the air and just missing someone as they walked past.

“Hey! just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I can’t hear, you ass.” His friend whined, folding his arms over his chest like a disgruntled child. You giggled at the two of them, your eyes feeling crusty from the dried tears when your smile reached your eyes.

“Pipe down Jeno, you’re lucky I brought you here and didn’t just leave you to blindly make your way here after you drank my banana milk.” Jeno didn’t reply, only sinking further into his seat as he sulked. Jaemin turned his head back to you and smiled again, his eyes raking over the span of your face and he couldn’t help but think about how naturally beautiful you looked. Even if you did have smudged eye makeup and needed to comb your hair. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you (Y/N), I’d shake your hand, but I kind of can’t right now.” He smiled warmly when his attempt of a joke made you giggle.

“Maybe some other time.” You didn’t realise what your words insinuated even after you’d said them. But he noticed straight away, nodding his head eagerly.

“I hope so…I’m Jaemin.”

 The Pregnancy:

Your relationship with Jaemin had been going strong for the past 7 years. In that time, you’d both finished your education and secured jobs that were not only financially stable, but also gave you good amounts of time to be together, unlike the jobs you both held back when you first met and started dating. On your five-year anniversary, Jaemin had popped the question to you and within a year you were named Mrs Na.  You also both agreed to move out of your cosy – Jaemin would call it cramped, but you preferred cosy – apartment, and move into one with more room for your family to grow. It started off with the two of you getting a hamster, which Jaemin wanted to name Megatron Fire Blaze, but you shot that idea down with a death stare and the hamster ended up being named Tony.

A few months after your seven-year anniversary you’d dropped the pregnancy bomb onto Jaemin. He was thrilled and wasn’t too proud to admit he bawled his eyes out like teenage girl watching a sad movie about a tragic love story. Your pregnancy was going smoothly apart from the tiny feet that would aggressively kick your insides every now and then. You were also certain your baby was learning to tap dance and using your bladder as its dance floor, also, the uncomfortable and inconvenient need to pee was starting to drive you insane.

“What do you think of the name Sooyoung for if it’s a girl?” Jaemin asked, neither of you facing each other as you laid with your back pressed to his chest in the bed. The turned down sound of a movie neither of you were paying attention to on the television acted as background noise as you both focussed more on your conversation. Despite both of you having your eyes trained onto the movie, neither of you could tell someone what was going on with the storyline if asked.

“Hmm…no I’m not feeling it.” You sighed in annoyance, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. “Our baby is never going to have a name at this rate, I just don’t like any names anyone is suggesting!” Jaemin remained silent for a moment, not being able to see much of your face from the angle he was laying at.

“You’re not going to cry are you…?” He was still learning to deal with the crazy ways your hormones would affect your moods. It still baffled him how one second you could be laughing at a funny post you’d seen on twitter and then the next you were crying about how you couldn’t reach the remote for the tv without getting up from the comfort of the sofa. He would often think back to the time Jeno commented on how your hair looked really full and colourful during your pregnancy and instead of taking it as a compliment you’d started crying in Jaemin’s arms, stating how horrible your hair must look normally and how you were just going to shave it off. Jeno had paled and immediately tried to backtrack on his words. The poor boy feeling the wrath of your pregnancy hormones. He tried not to laugh at the memory when you were around, just in case you asked him why he was laughing.

“No…” You bottom lip wobbled as you tried to hold it together, willing the tears to go away.

“What about…Joohyun? Seulgi?” You elbowed Jaemin in the ribs gently, causing him to groan as you turned to face him with your eyebrows pulling into a scowl.

“Now you’re just naming the members of Red Velvet!” He looked like a deer caught in the headlights as you caught onto his idea.

“Sorry!” He paused as he racked his brains, his lips pouting as his thoughts ran wild. “I like Mihyun.”

“Mihyun…” The name rolled off your tongue nicely as you repeated it again and again before concluding. “I love it, if our baby is a girl its Mihyun.” You smiled warmly, snuggling into Jaemin’s hold as much as you could with your big bump in the way. You both remained quiet for a while before Jaemin piped up.

“If it’s a boy, he shall be named Optimus Prime.”

“We are not naming our baby after a transformer!!!”

 The Divorce:

Na Mihyun was born on the 3rd of August. You and Jaemin had never felt more overjoyed and filled with love as what you did when you held the tiny infant in your arms for the first time. The second Jaemin heard the shrill cries of his daughter, the tears he couldn’t keep in rolled down his cheeks from pent up emotions popping like an overfilled balloon. Neither one of you could wait to take home the little life that was a symbol of your love for one another. However, things started to go sour within weeks.

The first argument was caused from Jaemin going out late with a few of his work friends. It didn’t bother you that he was going out and having fun, what bothered you was the text he sent you at 11pm that read ‘Will be another hour, don’t wait up’ after he’d promised you he’d be in before 11. It sent a spark of irritation amongst your body, but you tried to ignore it, knowing he had every right to go out and have some fun after being cooped up at home for the past few months with you. The hour passed and there was still no sign of Jaemin. After another half an hour you decided to call him, but he didn’t answer. Anxiety acted like a flood around you as the thought of him being hurt raided your mind, and the stress of being a new mother on your own and losing your husband began to make you sink in the pool on anxiety. You drowned in the feeling and it brought on a panic attack. You thanked god that Mihyun hadn’t woken up during that time, not knowing if you could have coped. He stumbled into the apartment at 4am, waking up your new-born and the anger pent up inside you. You gave him the silent treatment for a day before a big argument blew up, harsh words exchanged between you.

More arguments ensued throughout the next couple of months. Arguments over petty things, and you found that the two of you would argue for the sake of arguing at times. Leading to Jaemin spending most nights sleeping on the sofa, a hostile air between the two of you. You were miserable. And you didn’t want to feel like that when you should be enjoying your baby girl’s life. You didn’t want Jaemin feeling that way either. With the headspace you were in, you didn’t think there was any other options other than to go your separate ways.

“Jaemin, I need to talk to you.” You’d cornered him in the kitchen where you’d just come from your bedroom after putting Mihyun down for her afternoon nap.

“About what?” You longed for the days when his tone was soft, bringing comfort to you when you needed it the most. You’d already had a disagreement that morning, so his tone was unfriendly towards you. He turned to look at you from where he was making a sandwich on the kitchen counter, furrowing his eyebrows at your face as you silently cried. You heart breaking at the words you were about to drop on him.

“I can’t do this anymore…what happened to us? We hardly ever act like a loving couple anymore Jaemin and we can’t agree on anything anymore. I don’t want to fight every day; I just want a peaceful life with my daughter.” You gulped, starting to sob as you shook your head. His stomach sank, unease settling in the pit of his gut as he knew what you were about to say. “I want a divorce.”

“(Y/N) no…please we can work on this!” He abandoned his half-made sandwich, feeling numb and not knowing what to do other than to beg you to stay with him. “Baby don’t leave me.” He rushed to you, trying to take your hands in his own but you snatched them away, shaking your head and taking a step back.

“No…please just pack your things and go.”

“But I still love you…” He whispered, his voice cracking as a sob left his lips. You sighed, turning your back to him.

“Go.”

 Meeting Renjun:

Your divorce went through a lot quicker than you expected, and within a few months you were back to being a Miss. Life as a single mother was surprisingly easier than you thought, but that was probably because Mihyun was only just half a year old and had only just mastered the art of sitting up on her own. She had started to teeth also, which meant many sleepless nights for you, but you didn’t care because she was your only priority. You knew times would get tougher as she got older, but you couldn’t worry about it until it happened. After you and Jaemin separated, you both decided neither of you should keep the apartment, and you both moved into your own apartments. So even after living your new home for a month, you were still in the midst of decorating the place to your standards, loving that no one could tell you what you could and couldn’t put up on the walls. You did miss Jaemin, but you didn’t dwell on the feeling, knowing it wasn’t mentally healthy for you to live in the past when you had a whole fresh start ahead of you.

The apartment building you moved into was a new build, so all the apartments were slowly getting filled up with residents. All morning you could hear scuffling noises coming from the previously empty apartment next-door, so you assumed someone now occupied the living space. You went on with your day as you normally would, entertaining Mihyun as she tried to crawl around. In the end you put her in her walker, letting her cruise around the apartment to her own free will. You were engrossed in a silly tv programme that made little to no sense when a knock echoed through the halls.

“One Second!” You called out as you rose from the sofa, noting that Mihyun was fine in her walker. “You going to follow mumma?” You giggled when she grinned at you with her new front teeth, waddling after you in the confines of her walker. You smiled when you opened the door, met with an attractive man who looked to be around your own age. He had dark brown hair with matching brown eyes, his smile warm as he bowed to you.

“Hello! I just moved in next door, so I thought I’d come introduce myself.” He motioned his head towards his apartment as he spoke. “My name is Renjun.” He held his hand out to you and you quickly shook his hand with a smile. You detected an accent as he spoke Korean but couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was.

“I’m (Y/N), its nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, is it just you living here?” You noticed his glance at your hand, missing the slight raise of his eyebrows when he saw no wedding ring on your finger.

“No actually, I have this little terror living here too.” You opened the door wider to reveal your daughter, still sat in her walker and staring up at Renjun with wide curious eyes.

“Oh look at you!” He gasped, crouching down to her height and admiring the beauty of the baby. “What’s her name?”

“Mihyun.” You smiled in pride as you watched him coo over your child.

“Hi princess, aren’t you beautiful?” He chuckled when she pointed a hand at him and starting to giggle at him.

“She already likes you.” You folded your arms across your chest and leaned against the doorframe.

“I’m glad I have her approval.” He looked up at you with a soft smile, standing back up to his full height. “Well if you need anything then you know where I live.” He nodded his head at you, his eyes lingering on your face. You blushed, bowing to him.

“Thank you, same to you too.” You said your goodbyes and he headed back to his apartment. “Did you like him my little pickle?” You plucked Mihyun out of her walker to hold her to your chest. “He was nice wasn’t he?”

 Marrying Renjun:

A month after you’d met Renjun for the first time, he’d asked you out on a date. You hadn’t told Jaemin when he’d come to pick up Mihyun for the night, not wanting him to get upset about you moving on so quickly. At first you were hesitant whether to go on a date at all, but you didn’t want to let the opportunity of dating someone as lovely and kind as Renjun pass up. So, you took the plunge, went on a date with Renjun, and had an amazing night that you’d never forget. When Renjun proposed to you on your one-year anniversary, you took a week to give him your answer. Hesitant at first about marriage purely for the purpose that you’d already been married once and that hadn’t worked out. But after some deep thought and a long conversation with Jaemin about what went wrong in your marriage to him, you said yes. 10 months later you walked down the aisle and married Renjun, labelling him as the love of your life in your wedding vows. You didn’t know this, but Jaemin winced when he heard you say that. He went to your wedding despite the ache it caused in his heart, only going to show his support to you and not wanting gossip going around about his absence if he didn’t go.

You also moved apartments again. Renjun and you both moving into another apartment that was slightly bigger with the hopes of expanding your family at some point. Although you didn’t like that someone else now had a say in what you decorated the apartment with. Mihyun loved having Renjun living with you, him spoiling her with everything she wanted as soon as she told him her wanted it. He was good at acting like a father, but he knew he’d never take her own fathers place, which he didn’t want to do. But he loved her like she was his own flesh and blood, and he’d do anything for her. You hoped that this marriage was the start to your dream life, but you treasured everything you had with Jaemin. The highs and lows taught you things and gave you an experience that you’d never forget.

[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

A Memory Of The Smell of Smoke, Ch 1.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Everyone liked to pretend that Campbell had been born bad. That their fear and hatred were logical, rational, justified, because Campbell was a monster incapable of making the choice between good and evil. Because he couldn't feel the way they did. Well, fuck that. He was gonna prove them wrong. At least, that had been the plan.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Emotional Baggage, Mental Health Issues, Child Abuse, Substance Abuse, Animal Death, Complicated Relationships, Pre-Slash, Denial of Feelings, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Implied Rape, Campbell has mild ASPD and is self aware enough to try and be better, the non-con is NOT Campbell, didn't add an official warning because it is the aftermath only, yes it is the party becca mentioned and there will be a warning in the notes of that chapter, Campbell/Harry, Campbell/Elle.

Word Count: 3121(chapter 1/5).

AO3 || CH 2 || CH 3 || CH 4 || CH 5

Disclaimer: This is part of the first book of a series, A Gamble At Terrible Odds.

Knowing what I know of personality disorders and my own personal experiences, this is an attempt to write a canon divergent storyline for Campbell, using a slightly more realistic take on conduct disorder and ASPD instead of slapping on Hollywood "psychopath" stereotypes. While young people with conduct disorder can be violent and abusive, the diagnosis does exist on a spectrum, and neither ASPD nor "psychopathy" should be diagnosed before the age of 18; this is one thing that rubbed me the wrong way on The Society. I wanted an antagonist who's threat lay in the fact that they are calculating, ambitious, and ruthless-- not just "crazy". Hopefully I can succeed in presenting a more understandable and slightly less sensationalized vision of how-and-why he behaves. Please note that I have no intention of making him a violent abuser, not in an attempt to "woobie" him, but to bring his character more in line with my experiences of how an emotionally neglected child/teen with moderately reduced empathy would behave, provided they were actively attempting to help themselves.

Tl;dr I just wanted to make Campbell less needlessly shitty, because it makes me feel better as a person, and because I wanted one (1) antagonist who isn't just an evil, horrible abuser with a scary mental illness.

Thank you for reading, and leaving kudos/comments/likes. <3

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Campbell could barely remember life before Sam. The few memories he had were just bits and pieces, and nothing worth remembering. His parents leaving him with his Aunt Amanda, Uncle Jim, and cousin Cassandra while they went on a business trip or to some fancy vacation. Being scolded for crying too loud in the grocery store. In the kitchen of their big fancy house, reaching for his mother to pick him up, and standing there alone as she walked away. Later, sweetie. Some other time, dear. Mommy's busy, Campbell. It was always the same thing, and it only got worse when his mother got pregnant again.

Your mother's tired, his father would say. She needs to rest. Not that his father ever made time, either. He was important, and often harassing some poor fuck in the community with Uncle Rogers. Campbell didn't know what to do, so he would cry and scream until finally one of them would pay enough attention to yell back. Sometimes they would grab his wrist and drag him to his room for time out. He just always was too much for them, too stressful for them, too demanding, too clingy, too emotional. A bitter irony, he thought when he was older and looking back, remembering what it was like to feel that deeply. He'd been robbed of that, before he'd even known how to vocalize it. When Sam was born, they gave him to Campbell to hold. Campbell looked down at his baby brother. He was so small. So fragile. Don't you love him, his parents asked. Campbell didn't reply, and his parents laughed it off and teased him for being jealous. He didn't know what that word meant, not at the time. All he knew was that he was standing at the edge of his family, watching something he wasn't allowed to be a part of, even if he didn't understand why. He did discover that if he held Sam close, if he was gentle with Sam and kissed his forehead and smiled at him, their parents would smile, too. Their parents would coo and hold Campbell, too. They would sing to them both, read to them both. At first, he thought maybe he could do it. Even if he didn't feel as warm towards Sam in the way his cousin Cassandra seemed to feel towards her little sister, Allie, Campbell liked Sam alright. Campbell knew he could be a good boy, a good brother, and his parents would love him. For the first two years of Sam's life, things did seem like they were improving. Sam gurgled at him and followed him everywhere, and babies were kinda gross but Campbell accepted that. At least he felt like maybe he had a friend. It didn't matter that Sam spent more time with their parents than him, and that their parents looked at Sam in a way they never looked at Campbell. Campbell still felt less alone. ... At first. But then one night, when Sam was three and Campbell was five, their parents shook Campbell awake in the middle of the night. He tried to ask what was happening, but his parents just shouted at him to stop asking questions. There were sirens outside. Campbell saw their mother rush by his bedroom, with Sam in her arms. He looked strange. Limp. Campbell tried to follow, but their father grabbed his arm and yanked him a different direction. Their Uncle Jim was there, and he loaded Campbell into his car and drove him to their home. Cassandra was awake when they arrived. She took Campbell's hand and led him to the room she shared with her sister. At least there, it was quiet. They sat together on Cassandra's bed, silent and staring off into space. He didn't know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, it was light outside and Cassandra was holding him in her arms. "What's goin' on?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Where's Sammy?" "It's bad," she said, in that matter-of-fact voice of hers. "Sam is in the hospital." Campbell wiggled out of her embrace and padded out to the kitchen, where Aunt Amanda and Uncle Jim stood, faces pale. "What happened?" he demanded, frowning when the adults shared a look. "What happened to Sammy?" "Sweetie," Aunt Amanda said as she clutched her coffee mug, "try to go back to bed. We don't--" "Tell me!" He was yelling, and he knew that good boys didn't yell at adults, but he didn't care. Without Sam, there was nothing and there would never be anything again; he needed Sam, more than he needed anyone. "Tell me what's goin' on!" Uncle Jim came over and crouched down in front of him. "Sam got sick, and fell asleep. The doctors are trying to wake him up and make him feel better. That's all we know right now, Campbell." Asleep. Campbell remembered that Cassandra had a hamster once, and it died. It went to sleep and never woke up again. "What if Sammy doesn't wake up?" Aunt Amanda started crying. Uncle Jim said nothing. Campbell went back to Cassandra, who was watching him with wide blue eyes. Allie woke up not long after, and they all ate pancakes in bed. At least, the girls did. Campbell gave his bacon to Cassandra and picked at his pancakes until they were cold. Allie played ball with them out in the yard; Campbell kicked it back to her a few times, but he was too busy thinking about his brother. Would he be okay? Would he come home? What made him sick? Kids didn't just die, did they? "I thought only old people died," Campbell said to Cassandra later, when Allie was getting a bath. "Sammy's too little." Cassandra was coloring in a book. She didn't look up, but she shrugged. "Kids die all the time. In war and from cancer and stuff." "How do you know?" "My parents watch the news." Campbell sucked on his lips. Jealousy. He knew that word, now, and knew it's ugly pulse. The only time he ever watched the television was when a movie or Sesame Street was put on for Sam. And he didn't even know what that word meant, cancer, but he wasn't going to ask. He didn't want to know. If he knew what it was, it made it real. That night, his father came to the house and picked Campbell up, taking him back to their own house to get some clothes. "You need to stay with your auntie and uncle for a while," his father said while snatched random things and jamming them into a backpack. "Just for a few days. Understand?" "When is Sammy coming home?" "Don't ask questions. Go get your toothbrush." Campbell slumped and wandered off to get his stuff from the bathroom. The ride back was silent. He brought his backpack in and dropped it next to Cassandra's bed; he noticed his father talking to Uncle Jim and Aunt Amanda in the study, and he slinked closer to listen. He couldn't hear much, but it was about Sam. "Meningitis. They don't know if he'll..." But then his father noticed him at the door. He walked over and shut it, just like that. Campbell felt something hot and painful stir in his chest, and without thinking, he kicked the door as hard as he could. It stayed shut. Campbell stormed back to the bedroom. His father left without saying goodbye, and that night, Campbell burrowed against Cassandra's shoulder as he cried. He didn't want to cry. He wanted to hit things, and break things, and make people hurt. He didn't understand it, but it was something he knew how to do. Sam woke up a few days later, and their parents brought him home after a week and a half in the hospital. Campbell stayed away a bit longer to give them time to take care of Sam; something had gone wrong in the hospital, but no one said what. Campbell barely ate. He didn't speak. Not to anyone besides Cassandra, anyways. She was the one who told him the news first, after she'd listened in on her parents talking. "They said Sam can't hear anymore," Cassandra whispered. "Not at all." Campbell didn't believe her, not until he finally was allowed back home and saw it for himself. Sam was crying, and wouldn't stop crying. When Campbell tried to see him, to talk to him, their parents shooed him out of the room. The days dragged on with no improvement. Take out containers piled up around the kitchen, and Campbell spent most of his time in his room. He'd try to read, or do puzzles, or kick a ball around the house. Alone. Always alone. Sometimes, he didn't see Sam for days. Even when he did, it was through the doorway of Sam's room, and Sam would just be laying in bed or screaming. Something inside Campbell snapped. Campbell remembered in vivid detail the day it happened. The day he changed. It was two weeks after Sam had come home. It had been over a month since Sam had first gotten sick. Every day had been worse than the last, with their mother sleeping at weird hours and their father growling at him at every little thing. He knew, in the way that five year olds knew, that his parents had to take care of Sam. But what about him? What about story time, or singing, or watching silly movies together? Things had just started feeling normal, and now it was all gone again. He was alone again. If Sam never got better, what would that even mean? He didn't know, and no one would explain. Campbell stood alone in the dining room, surrounded by clutter and white, dirty foam boxes that were starting to smell. That hot feeling was back, burning his chest, and Campbell had to let it out. He picked up one of the foam boxes and threw it. He threw another, and another, but it wasn't enough. That's when he picked up his toy ball, and hurled it into the living room. There was a loud crash, and his parents came running out. His mother said something, but Campbell didn't know what, because his father was already yelling at him. "What did you do that for?" his father shouted. "Your mother was trying to sleep. Don't you know how hard she has to work around here?" Campbell said nothing. "Answer me!" Silence. "Fine. Apologize to your mother and go to your room." Campbell opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He wasn't sorry. He didn't feel bad. He didn't feel anything. He went to his room without a word, and he stayed there until he was called. And that was what life became, most days. Wake up, get dressed, wait to be called for breakfast, return to his room, stare at his plate at lunch and eat almost nothing, return to his room, pick at dinner, bathe and brush his teeth, and go to bed. Rinse and repeat. Some days he would go to see Cassandra, but they just sat on the swingset and stared out at the woods, without speaking. Nothing mattered anymore. What was there to talk about? When his parents caught him playing with matches, they hid them. When they caught him cutting holes in his clothes and in his bedding, they hid those, too. Forks and knives were moved to higher shelves when Campbell took to stabbing himself in the hand with them, just to see if it still hurt. It did, but he didn't cry. It just didn't matter. No one did anything, not even Aunt Amanda and Uncle Jim, not even when he yanked the heads off Allie's dolls and pushed Cassandra off a swing. Cassandra didn't cry. She just got up and kicked him in the shin, and that was the last time Campbell ever pushed her. Hurt someone, and they hurt you back. Except, sometimes they didn't. Sometimes they'd let you. Once he turned six and entered kindergarten, he learned that when he got into a fight with another kid over a toy. Campbell punched the other kid in the face, and for a tiny moment, he felt happy. He felt excited. He wanted to feel that again, and so he picked fights with more kids over the span of a few days, until parents began to complain and teachers spoke to his mother and father after school. "If you keep fighting," Cassandra said when she came over to play, "they'll send you away to a special school." Campbell frowned. "You're lying." "Am not. I heard my mom say to your mom." After that, Campbell stopped fighting with the other kids. He stuck to himself, watching them while he played alone. He learned more about them that way-- their names, their likes, their dislikes. He learned what made them laugh and what made them cry. Sometimes at home, he would copy the way their faces looked when they were happy or sad. Campbell was bored. He felt itchy, like he wanted to move and keep moving but couldn't. He missed that feeling of excitement. But at least he wasn't being sent away, and the more he practiced being like the other kids, the less his parents yelled at him. It was good enough. A year passed. Sam was tutored at home, and Campbell learned from the tutor how to talk to Sam using sign language. It took about a year to be able to really have a conversation with his little brother; he didn't put as much effort into it as he knew he should have, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Sam was only four years old. Anything he really needed to say, he said to their parents. Sometimes he would ask Campbell to play, but Campbell was six years old and struggling to fit in with other first graders. He came home exhausted and frustrated, and would usually end up snapping at Sam. It wasn't a surprise when Sam began to distance himself. And it only got worse. Campbell was angry all the time and couldn't make it stop. Any time the teacher tried to make him do oral reports or work in groups with classmates, he would break down. He didn't know what was going on, and his parents simply brushed it off as him being difficult. Teachers looked the other way. Classmates began to whisper about him when they thought he couldn't hear. Campbell managed to keep himself from lashing out at Sam, but walls, plates, and other inanimate objects began to suffer worse than ever. "Why won't they listen?" Campbell asked Cassandra one day. "They never listen to me. They just spend all their time worrying about Sam." Cassandra shrugged. "Sometimes you have to make them listen." He didn't know how. He threatened to run away, to hurt himself. Nothing. Sam had become one of them-- only approaching him when their parents wanted to order Campbell to come to dinner or brush his teeth or do his chores. There was only one place in the world where Campbell felt like he could just be himself-- when he was with Cassandra, though their visits had grown fewer and farther in between as Campbell spiraled. Soon, her parents stopped letting him visit altogether. That loss of support was the finale straw. Campbell went into the living room weeks after his final visit with Cassandra. His parents had gotten Sam a bird for his birthday; they always gave Sam everything he wanted. Everything. Sam was the only one who mattered to them. Campbell stared at the little green and yellow thing, shrieking and flapping in its cage; he'd finally thought of a way to make his parents listen to him. He opened the window, then reached into the cage and grabbed the bird. Campbell threw the bird out the open window, and headed back up to his bedroom. It was about an hour before anyone noticed. He could hear Sam screaming, and their parents were at his bedroom door in minutes. "What did you do with Oliver?" his father boomed. "Do you have him?" Campbell barely blinked. "I don't have him." "Where did you put him?" "Outside." His mother stared at Campbell like he had two heads. "Why would you do that? What is wrong with you?" Those words hung in the air, and Campbell didn't know what to say. He just gazed back at her and shrugged, silent. They hauled him downstairs and shoved him out the door, demanding he take them to where he put Oliver. Campbell obeyed, hesitating when he didn't see Oliver anywhere. How far could a pet bird go? His father started yelling, like always. They kept pushing him to look harder, to tell the truth, to take them to the bird, but he couldn't. The bird wasn't where he'd left it. He was grounded, indefinitely. Sam wouldn't look at him. A few days later, their mother came inside with a shoebox, her face grim. They sat Campbell down, and showed him what was inside. Campbell stared at the dead bird, bile rising in the back of his throat. "Did you do this?" his mother asked. "No! I swear, I only let him outside." "Tell us the truth." "I am!" His parents exchanged a look. They didn't believe him. Campbell could tell. They left the room, and he could hear Sam wailing a few moments after. Campbell sat at the table, looking down at his hands as his thoughts raced. He hadn't meant this. He'd just wanted to upset Sam a little, get their parents to react. He just wanted them to talk to him, to take him to talk to someone. He wanted to feel like he mattered. Now, he just felt... empty. Lost. Sam came in. His eyes were red and swollen. He was still crying, and he was signing something at Campbell. Why. Over and over and over, just... why. Campbell didn't know how to answer. He'd never bothered to learn how to say things like because I'm angry, because mom and dad love you more, because I need help, because there's something wrong with me. So he just did what he did before, and said nothing. That was the first time Sam looked at him with hatred. Campbell stood and brushed past Sam, heading back to his room. Something twisted in his stomach, but he didn't know what. He couldn't tell, and he didn't want to. Like cancer, if it was named, it would be real. He didn't want any of it to be real.

He just wanted to fade away.

[imaginesnkdorks]

“Thank Goodness For Crazy”

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 |

Part II: A Scene Straight from Final Destination

Pairing: Erwin/Reader; Levi/Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death and violence

[A/N: Hey guys! So far, askbox is stuffed with headcanons and match ups. Honestly, that’s more of mod Mari’s field. I’m more into fics, so since there’s no request for that, here’s something I wrote. Part 1 is linked :D - mod max ]

Summary: Reader is just your regular gal from our world, but that changed one day when she woke up in the world of Titans. Giving a fake name to Erwin Smith who found her, she tries to understand the world she’s thrust upon and to survive in it. And try she did.

 This is one hell of a horse ride. I am a breath’s away from this stranger, and without anywhere else to hold on, I’m forced to cling on his waist for dear life. My anxiety level is shooting up, too. I’m in my unicorn-patterned pajamas, barefooted and on a horse with a stranger in a strange land. Oh! And with my suitcase dragging behind – forcing the horse to tread a bit slowly – we kind of weren’t making much progress.

And before you point and scream “stranger danger!”, I am aware. But seriously, I’m in who-knows-where, and there was a freaking giant, and so far, I saw not a single soul aside from the man on the horse with me. This reminds me, I don’t even know his name.

“What’s your name?” I practically screamed to the direction of his ears. Trying his best to look at me, he said “Erwin Smith”. So, he’s technically no longer a stranger now. “Where are we going?” I asked him, to which he simply answered “to see the commander.” Ok.

As we move, I started to hear more noises. It wasn’t just inhuman sounds too. There were screams of pure pain and horror made by humans. I know because I watch a lot of slasher flicks. Unfortunately, that didn’t prepare me for the real thing. Turns out those screams weren’t only from pain, but death throes. Body parts was strewn everywhere – bodiless heads, armless torsos (note how I only said torsos), and in totally disturbing positions. I threw up for real this time.

Erwin stopped his white steed and I felt him tense up. And it wasn’t because I was being gross right behind him.  I’ll have you know; I happen to throw up to the side – which caused almost all the vomit to land on my suitcase. Yuck. Let me say that again, yuck. After forgiving myself for totally ruining probably all of my clothes inside the suitcase, I finally took a good look around me. Past all the blood and gore, I can see people, flying?

No, it’s impossible. But what do I know? These people are flying around several other giants, wielding two blades each. This is simply the craziest thing I’ve ever seen, aside from when my hamster ate her baby. Oh, my gosh. That freaking giant just ate someone!

“Goodness, what king of hell is this?!” I screamed. Totally uncool, but if you were me, you would have peed – no, pooped! – your pants five minutes ago. It’s that bad.

“There are too many titans here. Andi Frost, do you know how to ride a horse?” Erwin told me. Again, a whole lot of fresh, new questions popped into my head but I opted to answer his question first. “A bit.” I did some horseback riding, but how hard can it be? “Alright, stay here for now. If a titan comes after you, run away but not so far away. And wear this.” He ended up giving me his green ugly coat, which happens to be part of their uniform. I did as I was told. Erwin then joined the other people who were “flying”. Which they really weren’t. They were just zipping around using grappling hooks and wires, connected to those bulky and ugly things by their thighs.

I kept my eye on Erwin. I noticed how everyone seems to aim for the giant’s nape. Being in the middle of all this, I kind of forgot that I am in trouble and at great risk. I should have been alert, but I was just too immersed in watching everything in front of me that I didn’t notice a giant almost crushed me. Good thing this horse was smart. He sped off, away from this human-eating giant. And remember when I was so confident that horse-riding isn’t that hard? That’s something I totally regret. I know nothing about driving a horse! In the horse’s haste, the rope tied to my vomit-ridden suitcase snapped! Just great! Now I’m stuck here, in my unicorn pj’s with an ugly green cape. Wonderful.

I tried to stop the horse, and after saying “ho” a hundred times, and cursing for the first time in my life, it finally stopped. “Damn you horsy. You made me say the F word!” And yes, I’ve never said that word before, so as the S word and B word. Before you judge me, I’m no religious or moral nut. It’s just how I am. And I’m not a kid either. I’m already twenty years old. Anyways, I got the horse to turn around to face where we came from. You can’t imagine how relieved I was when I saw no giant behind us. But I now notice the horrible situation of the people I left there. There is about 7 of those giants there, some are small – only two and three stories. While the rest were as tall as skyscrapers!

And I just noticed that those buildings – which I thought were houses – were just a bunch of walls and rocks. And when I say walls, they are 10 feet-tall walls that are totally not connected to anything. They’re not even ruins, they are just stupid and pointless walls. Soon after, those giants dropped like flies. Wait, no. They weren’t like flies. They shook the ground every time they dropped. I decided it was pretty safe, so I directed the horse to go back.

Once I got near enough, I soon found out that the smoke I saw weren’t because of the giants’ rampage. It was coming off of them as they “evaporate”. How crazy is that. You know what else is crazy? I totally forgot that Erwin joined in the fray and is probably dead. At the thought, I actually panicked. I’m not attached to him, it’s just that he’s the only person I know here.

But I didn’t have to worry for long, as Erwin was soon approaching me. He raised his thick eyebrow at me and began to ask me, “what happened to your suitcase?” “The cord snapped.” I answered him. Our conversation was so casual and light, you wouldn’t have guessed we did that surrounded by blood and random body parts. This might make it seem like I’m use to the gore, but I’m not. I am totally freaking out.

“It has all my clothes.” I told him. He just looked at me and then climbed the horse. Great, now he might be thinking I’m so vain. We continued our ride to wherever he was planning to go. Without my luggage, he can finally make his horse gallop. We soon approached another group of people which are dressed just like him. Though this bunch clearly just had a run-in with those giants as most of them are injured and bloody. One of them though was clearly important. I can tell because he was barking orders.

It seemed like this person of importance is the person Erwin wants to see, so he stopped near him, climbing off the horse and telling me to get off as well. “Commander Shadis.” Erwin greeted, then he pounded his chest with his right hand. “Erwin. We should …” The person whom Erwin referred to as commander began, but he noticed me. He stopped for a full two seconds before asking Erwin, “who is she?” “It seems like someone who survives outside the wall.” Erwin respectfully answered.

The commander’s face was a mess. He was shocked, but I really don’t understand why. “Uhm, if you don’t mind what “walls” are you talking about? And what are those giant things that ate and killed all those people? And where the hell are we?” I asked. Needless to say, this earned me weird looks of confusion, fear and surprise from the two men standing before me.

Copyright © 2017 by imaginesnkdorks. All rights reserved

[tangledfan]

70 horrible questions … I’m bored and my tumblr messages won’t work

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? Not at all, unfortunately.. I always wanted a healthy relationship with them. Things haven’t worked out but I’m ok about it now

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? My best friends… Rosie and Rosie ahha. One is my cat and the other is a human being haha!!

03: Do you regret anything? I have a lot of regrets, I think regret is one of the worst feelings but.. I guess I wouldn’t be exactly what I am now without those choices I made back then- good and bad.

04: Are you insecure? I have my days if I’m honest.. but I’d say I love my mind and I love my personality and there are times I question my physical beauty but that’s nothing to do with me, that’s what society tries to push as beautiful. As a whole I love myself and you should love yourself too and give yourself what you deserve..

05: What is your relationship status? Relationship?? What is that??

06: How do you want to die? Oh wow, dramatically where no one else is hurt lmfao. If I’m going to be remembered let it be from choking on a sandwich.

07: What did you last eat? Rice and a cookie🔥😂

08: Played any sports? OMG a few years back I literally played every sport under the sun, Football, netball, rounders, tennis, athletics, dance, swimming, baseball, rugby… but yknow life hit love and then I died

09: Do you bite your nails? No I don’t! When I was 13 I did kind of but I mean I don’t ever do it now

10: When was your last physical fight? I don’t do physical fights but 6 years ago lol (me and my sister were arguing over food I think)

11: Do you like someone? Ugh… I don’t even really know what it feels like to like someone.. No one sticks around long enough for me to develop emotional and mental connection (For me that’s so important)

12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? Oh my gawd yes and you know what? I’m either really hyper because I’m so tired or I’m the biggest bore ever, there is no middle.

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? All I’m going to say is.. this person is trash who shits on good people because they are bored with their own life. SORRY BUT I HATE BULLYING IN ANY FORM. Do I hate her? I don’t know.. do I have little respect for her? Yes.

14: Do you miss someone? I miss a lot of people, for different reasons. I miss my childhood best friend. I miss my all my ex’s who decided it wasn’t worth being friends with me.. do you know why? Because these people shaped me, I still think they are good people. I’d still invest time into them. I don’t just miss the memories, I miss the friendship.

15: Have any pets? A few! But only 3 that I could truly class as my pets, my best friends. Smokey my hamster (I miss you buddy, I miss carrying you on my shoulder and sharing cucumber with you while I watched Lizzie McGuire. I will always love you, you made me such a happy 10 year old, you were my first proper pet and I just loved you so much, you were my best friend and I was so weird with you) Spot my rabbit (ah you were so fluffy and cute and so bad, like you broke everyone’s things because I REFUSED to put you in a cage lol. I liked having you hop around and be a asshole to everyone but you were only ever nice to me. I love you and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you when you needed me, I regretted going to school that day, I came home and cried.. I didn’t know what death meant until then) Lastly Rosie… wow you are my child. I would protect you from everything and anything. I look at you and want to cry sometimes because your eyes are so expressive. You don’t need to talk because I feel you bro, I feel your presence and you know exactly when I need to have you around. When I can’t sleep in the night and you make sure I can hear you purring. I have spent the last 3 years revolving my life for you and everyone thinks I’m crazy mad for loving you so much because you are unfriendly- truth is, you are just friendly with me haha, I like the loyalty in you cat.. even when I don’t feed you, I’m still your mom. You came in my life just when I needed you and honestly it wasn’t a coincidence how I got you. You fixed a part in me that was slowly dying, my will to carry on.. it was nice to speak to someone who wouldn’t just tell me to “stop being silly” partly cause you couldn’t communicate with me 😉 but y'know you are my absolute best friend, I love you more than I ever have any human, no one comes close and thank you for helping my get back on the right path through my mental health and my bad habits.. knowing I had you to look after made me stop being selfish. (I had to write this shit out because I really love my animals deeply, they have been there for me when humans couldn’t.)

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? Lucky, passionate and yet somewhat disappointed.

17: Ever made out in the bathroom? It was the best kiss I have ever had. Fire works. It was the kiss that mattered but didn’t last lmfao and it happened in a fucking bathroom and I’m so pressed over that 😂

18: Are you scared of spiders? I’m sorry for being scared of you spiders but I’d never hurt you

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? YES!! I want to look into history but also my own history. I want to maybe see myself from a distant.. to know what others see.

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? In the middle of no where while the moon was high in the sky and your dimples were just about visible and I knew I had to kiss you then as you passionately spoke about music. You were such a puppy, man it was a good time but we are just friends now.

21: What are your plans for this weekend? Record- hopefully! Going to spend time with my best friend and her girlfriend yay! (Mom and dad TBH) Maybe if I have time I’ll do some writing and reading :)

22: Do you want to have kids? How many? It depends on my resources! I find it hard to share love out equally though and I wouldn’t want anyone I love to think I love one more than the other due to the attention I give. I’m game for however many. I have no set amount.. I kind of want a big family. I want to adopt as well! If the feelings right and mutual.

23: Do you have piercings? How many? Just ear piercings! Used to have my lips and nose done.. that being said I want my nose ring back but it’s difficult I want to work at Disneyland and I hate taking out studs and nose rings.

24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? Drama, music, English, Art, Maths, History and PE!

25: Do you miss anyone from your past? Practically everyone. I have at least one thought of you a day.

26: What are you craving right now? Chocolate anything😍

27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? unfortunately yes.. but we are all very good friends now, in fact we are soulmates but in the platonic sense.

28: Have you ever been cheated on? Yes but it’s ok, we are soooo past that. I made terrible mistakes to begin with. Having gone through that.. I now realise how damaging cheating truly is haha! I needed it however to know what it felt like and how bad it truly was. Just because I don’t feel as deeply as the other doesn’t mean I should be irresponsible with someone’s feelings.

29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? Good and bad tears, for all my past lovers that I hurt, I’m awful sorry, I was childish and unready to fully open up.

30: What’s irritating you right now? My eagerness to explore the past… I should leave it there and focus on the future. TRUMP. BREXIT. Dramatic fandoms.. it was fine to a certain point until y'all say horrible shit about eachother and drag down other humans who btw have feelings regardless of how many people look up to them, your comments still fucking hurt.

31: Does somebody love you? Yes someone loves me

32: What is your favourite color? I love all colours but dark purple and baby blue, pink and the shade black 😂

33: Do you have trust issues? I wish I didn’t but yes… It’s quite bad.

34: Who/what was your last dream about? Weird dream but I fell asleep reading a fan fic so it was to do with that. Gotta love the fluffy cuteness.

35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? Myself, I like to watch myself cry in the mirror lol (don’t ask me why, I’m a freak lol)

36: Do you give out second chances too easily? Those that know me think I do because I’m civil and don’t like to argue but nah, trust issues. I hate that about myself.

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? Forgive. I forget nothing.

38: Is this year the best year of your life? No.

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 6? Maybe 7? Proper kiss however was at 10!

40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? Yes and it was liberating

51: Favourite food? Mmmm… that’s so hard😔😭 I love all food if I’m honest. I do love the taste of delusions tho lmfao #Camren

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? Mmmm… not everything but in a way sometimes….I guess yes.

53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? Read a book and cuddled with Rosie (my equal, my baby cattttt).❤️

54: Is cheating ever okay? No. I’ve made mistakes and it’s not worth it hurting someone like that EVER.

55: Are you mean? Honestly I’d say I’m the complete opposite of mean.

56: How many people have you fist fought? Two, I don’t promote violence lol but yeah that happened (with siblings)

57: Do you believe in true love? Yes. I absolutely believe in true love but you have to accept the idea of it and be ready for it. Both of you do.

58: Favourite weather? I like all weather rain, sun, wind… but of lately I’ve just loved walking in the rain.

59: Do you like the snow? I love the snow!!! When the snow is fresh and everything looks beautiful and new.

60: Do you wanna get married? Eventually, yes. Once I know.. it will be magical and painful but worth it.

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? I don’t mind it :)

62: What makes you happy? Freedom, laughter, kindness, deep conversations, music… passion.

63: Would you change your name? Yes, yes, yes.

64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? No they have soft lips and we are good friends, affection is best haha!

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? I’d make sure they were OK and make them see that our friendship is worth more than a relationship between us could ever be.. plus I’m 99.9% gay

66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? Most of them :) I have a different array of personalities depending on the person and situation, I have 1 friend however who knows everything about me and she is my soulmate in every single way. I love her just as deeply as I love my cat. I’d do almost anything for them.

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? Dave who is saved as “caMEEEEELAAA” on my phone lmfao, I love when he rings me because it’s like “Camila is calling you” and I’m like “AYYYEEE SON DAMM RIGHT SHE IS”

68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? Lauren’s lover @goodgirlsbettergetbad (p.s thanks for the kind words.. I needed them💜) and my best friend Rosie who lives miles away😭 which by the way really freaking sucks, it's hard when we both work to get a hold of one another but I never fear for our friendship, she'll always be in my life plus we had a wonderful talk last night, voice of reason always. Also another best friend of mine @let-me-make-this-queer thank you for being there. Thank you for letting me annoyingly hug you all the time! @invisibleandmagicaalthank you for just being so kind and messaging me while I was sad and listening to me in the nights!

69: Do you believe in soulmates? Oh my goodness yes. I think you have more than 1 soulmate and I don’t always think it’s romantic btw. It’s beautiful when you click mentally and emotionally with someone it can be platonic but it’s a great feeling. Twin flames tho…. ah my heart races.

70: Is there anyone you would die for? Yes. I’d die for most, it depends on circumstance.

[cookiepiefrenzy]

Integritale 25b - Deliverance

He woke up in his tears. Serifa was next to him. He quickly moved to the other corner of the bed, away from her. He curled up there and continued crying.

''Why did you go back?'' ''Don't you see it's pointless?''

-No, not you again...

''It's futile.'' ''She'll die again.'' ''Just end it'' ''End your suffering.''

-Go away, go away, go away, go away, go away, go away, go away!!

''She tricked you.''

-NO, SHE DIDN'T, SHUT UP!

He managed to wake Serifa up again. She looked at him, confused.

-Are you alright...?

Sans kept crying and yelling at himself. Serifa got closer and patted his cheek.

-Sans...?

''It's happening again.'' ''She'll get closer and you'll choke her.''

-G-Get away...Get away before it's too late, Serifa...

-What are you talking about? You're worrying me...

''You know it'll happen.'' ''You'll snap at any second.'' ''Just be done with it already.''

-Get away from me, please...I'll hurt you, get away! Please get away!! he cried desperately.

Serifa hugged him.

-Sans, darling, what's wrong...?

''Go ahead.'' ''The sooner the better.'' ''You know you'll do it eventually.''

Sans gabbed Serifa's neck and tackled her down once more.

-What are you-

-I'm sorry, I have to!! It's gonna happen anyway...

Sans was looking at Serifa struggling to breathe and tightened his grip. His tears were falling on her face. His whole body was shaking and his hands were trembling. He was too unstable. Serifa noticed it and quickly kicked him away from her. Unable to oppose her, Sans fell on the floor and crawled to the corner of the room, crying more and more.

Serifa was coughing and trying to take deep breaths. It took her a while before she managed to stabilise her breathing again.

-Sans, what on earth did you-

She noticed him spazzing alone on the floor, still yelling at himself and crying. Her anger turned into worry.

-...do?

She walked up to him carefully.

-Sans...? Who are you talking to...?

-Get away!! I'll try to kill you again, get away!! he freaked out.

-Why, Sans?

-Get away!!! Get away, please!!

-SANS! Serifa hit the floor with her hand. GET A GRIP!

-I killed you...I killed Undyne...I killed Paps, I killed everyone! Get away from me, I'll kill you again! Oh my, you died, you died so much. I'm a killer... I'm a murderer... I...

-Sans, I can't understand what you're talking about... You didn't kill anyone! I heard Papyrus walking out this morning, and I'm here! I'm not dead!

-I still killed them all.. Oh my, I killed them all! STOP TALKING TO ME I KNOW I KILLED THEM! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

-Sans, are you talking to me?

-No, the voices! THEY ARE TALKING TO ME THEY WANT ME TO KILL YOU GET AWAY!!! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!

Sans was spazzing even more. He was yelling and moving around like crazy, as if he wasn't controlling his body. His movements were so spastic that he was hitting the wall, hurting himself.

Serifa had to do something. She thought of calling Papyrus, but this was urgent. She needed to act immediately. She grabbed Sans's shoulders and pinned his head on the wall using her forehead.

-GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF! she screamed in his face.

Sans, was forced to look into her eyes.

-There are NO VOICES Sans. It's only me here!

-T-They talk to me... he trembled.

-Then listen to ME, and ME alone! Follow MY voice only! Stay...stay with me...!!

Sans was shaking in fear. Their eyes locked onto each other's for a minute. Serifa slowly let go of Sans. He looked down.

-I'm...sorry.

-Sans, my love, what happened to you...? Serifa was ready to cry, but held back.

-I'm sorry... I hurt you again... I'm sorry...

-Sans...I'm worried about you, tell me what happened!

-I'm sorry... he kept repeating in an agonised tone.

This wasn't going anywhere. Serifa got up and offered her hand to Sans. The hooded figure watching them was surprised by her strength.

-Come with me.

Sans kept looking down.

-Sans. Take my hand. Don't leave me hanging. Escape from yourself!

He reluctantly gave her his hand. She grabbed it and pulled him up. He had the expression of a dead man. He was like a motionless doll, waiting for someone to move him around. Serifa slowly walked him to bed, sat him there and sat beside him.

-My love...what's bothering you...?

Sans kept looking down. Serifa took his hands and held them tightly. He gave her a sad look.

-Sans...you can trust me. Talk to me. I'm here for you!

His trembling had stopped a little.

-I...There's a lot...I have to tell you... his voice was sad and slow.

-I'm all ears. Tell me everything.

-I...I can turn back time. I can reset this day... In fact...I've lived through this day countless times... I reset it and everyone forgets what happened...

-What are you saying...? Sans... I'm really worried about you...

-Heh...I knew you wouldn't believe me...

-Sans...I'm trying to but... The things you're telling me... They are a bit...

-Spiders. You were taking care of spiders in your old house, weren't you? They were your friends. And you hid them from your father.

-I was...how did you know?

-You told me so. Then I reset the day. You don't remember anything, but I do. Trust me, I'm not crazy...not yet anyway...

Sans looked down again. Serifa didn't know what to believe, but she had to help him somehow.

-So, if what you say is true...why do you keep resetting this day?

-A certain...event happens.

-What kind of event?

-You... You die.

Serifa was taken aback.

-W-What...?

-Don't make me say it again...please...

There was a moment of silence.

-How...How does this happen? I mean... I'm healthy now... I've recovered...

-Remember the party at Grillby's yesterday? A Royal Guard was there and saw you. They all know where you are now. In fact, two of them are waiting outside our doorstep at this moment.

-So, you go back because they kill me...?

-Yes. I'm...trying to save you. I'm trying different things every time...And I keep failing... You can't imagine how it feels to watch you die...over, and over, and over, and over again...

Sans's voice broke and he started crying again. Serifa hugged him, barely able to remain calm.

-I understand, Sans... I wouldn't want anything to happen to you... Back then, when you were lost in your mind...I was so, so worried...

Sans gently pushed her back.

-There's...more.

Serifa held his hands tightly again.

-Tell me...

-Seeing you...die...over and over...it had an awful impact on me...

-I know... I saw it.

-No, Serifa, what you saw is nothing compared to everything I've done.

-What did you do...? Tell me.

Sans looked away. Serifa pulled his head back, forcing him to look at her.

-Don't worry. I'm here.

Sans took a deep breath.

-It all started at Grillby's. There was a fight over your fate. Everyone was fighting, some for you, some against you. And I...I accidentally killed Punk Hamster. I really, really didn't mean to do it...But it happened. And that's when I started going down a really dark path... Soon, I accidentally killed again. And again. And it got to a point when...I didn't care anymore. I just killed others like it was nothing! I mean, I was going to reset if you died anyway... So I kept killing. There were cases where I could have done something else to solve a conflict, but I was too tired to think of anything, so I just killed mindlessly... I'm...so horrible!!

Sans had started crying again. Serifa was ready to hug him, but he interrupted her first.

-There were times when...anger took over. When I killed just because I was angry... It felt good to kill at those times, even if there was absolutely no need to... I was so, so disgusting! I killed people I knew, I killed friends... And it was getting worse...

-Sans...why didn't you ask for help...? Why did you go through all this by yourself...?

-I did have that stupid idea of asking Paps to help. You know what happened? The Head of the Royal Guard attacked you and he got in the middle. He ended up dying from his best friend. I saw his dust spread in front of me...and there was nothing I could do... You can't imagine how much pain I felt... Damn it, I don't want to even remember this!

-This...this must have been awful... Serifa tried consoling him, not sure what to say.

-After that, I lost it completely. I snapped and couldn't control myself anymore. I went back in time and tormented Undyne, the one who had killed Papyrus, until she died. And then...the voices...they started talking to me...telling me awful, horrible things... I ended up choking you to death.

-But I'm alive...

-You weren't back then. I killed you with these two hands you're holding. I killed you... I killed you myself!!

-But you still came back to save me.

-And the voices took over again. You saw it yourself, I tried to kill you this time too!

-But you didn't.

-Only because you managed to escape. Only because I was unstable... Oh God, I still hear them... I still hear THESE HORRIBLE VOICES!

-Remember Sans, follow MY voice and MY voice alone!

-It hurts...It hurts so much...They won't stop... he cried desperately.

-What are they saying?

-They are saying how much you hate me. How disgusted you're about me now that you know the truth! They're telling me how awful I am... I'M A MURDERER AND NOTHING MORE!

-Then tell them to shut up. They know nothing. Do you hear me? THEY KNOW NOTHING! her voice was firm and loud.

-I almost killed you, and I had already killed you once... There's no, NO excuse for what I did!

-You weren't yourself, Sans...

-That's not an excuse!! I brought this upon myself! I tried to block all the negative emotions and they suddenly burst out. It's all my fault I couldn't control them!!

-Sans...maybe you should stop going back if it hurts you so much...

-No way! If I give up now...all this pain and suffering will have been for nothing...! Besides...I'm not letting you die! You'll survive...I'll make sure you'll survive!!

-If you can't give up on me...then don't give up on yourself, either. There would be no point in saving me if you sacrifice your sanity. So, promise yourself not to kill again. For whatever reason. Don't kill anyone, even if it is for me. Tell yourself that, if it comes to choosing between someone else and me, you'll just go back without killing! Can you do that? Can you do that for me? For us?

Sans looked down.

-I'll...try.

-No, you won't try. You'll do it. You'll stay determined and do it! Either that, or you'll give up. Promise me, Sans. Promise me and yourself that you will.

-I...I promise. his voice was still unsure, but he was a lot calmer.

-Great! Serifa smiled. Now, you need to rest. Come on, lie down.

-I'm fine.

-Oh, just do what I say already!

She tackled him down, lying him in the bed. She lay beside him and hugged him.

-Just relax a bit, alright...?

Sans hugged her and dived his head in her chest. He burst into the tears again. Being able to talk openly about his pain had been therapeutic.

-Let it out... Let it all out...

Serifa caressed him gently. She was on the verge of crying too, but she had to stay strong for Sans. She was sure she had probably cried plenty in the past timelines. This was Sans's turn to cry.

It took Sans a long while to finally calm down. He looked up at her. She was smiling at him.

-T-Thank you...And, again...I'm so, so sorry...

-Let it go, Sans. Close your eyes and let it go.

Sans obediently listened to her. She put her hands on his head, carefully massaging it.

-Is this working on you? I mean, you have a bone skull and all...

-It feels great.

-Good...good! she smiled.

She kept massaging him until he fell asleep. She knew he needed it. Her plan had worked. She kissed his forehead and walked downstairs.

Sans woke up hours later, finding a note.

''If you're reading this, you probably need to go back again... I'll be waiting for you! Thanks for trusting me. Remember our promise.

~Serifa''

Sans took a deep breath. There was no need to check what had happened.

-I'll remember.

His left eye flashed.

[sarahburness]

How Healthy Eating Becomes Unhealthy

I’ve spent so much time on the dieting hamster wheel that I am almost too ashamed to admit it. Throughout my teen years I went from one crash diet to the next. When this proved more than unfruitful and disappointing, I changed strategies.

The next twelve years I spent searching for the “right lifestyle” for me, which would allow me to shrink to an acceptable size, be happy and healthy, and make peace with my body.

You can probably guess that I never found such a lifestyle. And I’m sure that it doesn’t exist for me. I’m still making peace with my body, but now I know this is internal work. No diet or size can bring me to this place.

How This All Began

I first became aware that I was fat when I was four. We had this kindergarten recital, and regrettably, my costume didn’t fit, so I was the only one with a different dress. It was horrible. It didn’t help that my mother was very disappointed in me.

Years later, I started dieting at the ripe age of ten.

In my teenage years my focus was mainly on losing as much weight as possible, as quickly as possible. It was exhilarating to get praise from my mother and grandmothers. They were so happy that I was taking charge of my weight and that I could show such restraint and will power.

I sometimes went months on almost nothing eaten. Eventually, I’d start to get dizzy and nauseous, and I’d get severe stomach aches. I was hospitalized multiple times for gastritis. But no one made the connection between my eating and these conditions.

When the pains were severe, I knew I needed to get back to eating more regularly, and then the weight would return. You wouldn’t believe the disappointment this elicited in the ones closest to me. If only I could eat like a normal person, but not be fat.

I was told hundreds upon hundreds of times that if I didn’t find a way to lose the weight, I’d be lonely, no one would like me, I’d have trouble finding a boyfriend, and I’d have almost no chance of getting married. This was so heartbreaking. And I believed every word of it.

It became a major focus of my life to get my body in order, so I could be a ‘real’ girl.

When I turned twenty, I learned that my weight was all my fault. That I wasn’t doing enough. That I just wanted results, without doing the work. And that “there’s no permanent result without permanent effort.” So, I decided to find the sustainable lifestyle change that would lead me to my thin and better self. This was just another wild goose chase.

No matter what I did, the pattern was the same: I would lose ten to thirty-five pounds in about six months. And then—even if I doubled my efforts in terms of eating less and training more—I would start gaining weight and return to close to where I started.

Even though it was soul crushing, I didn’t give up. Not even for a day.

I was convinced that I just didn’t know enough, or hadn’t found the right diet for me, the right exercise, or the right combination. Or that maybe I was just doing things wrong, for some reason.

I hired trainers, dieticians, the whole shebang. It didn’t help.

This lasted more than ten years and took a lot of money that could have been spent better.

I was convinced that I was missing something. Obviously, the professionals knew what they were doing, and there was something wrong with me.

How Things Got Even Worse

When I got married, even though my husband and I were planning to wait a couple of years before having children, the pressure to prepare for pregnancy was on.

I went into crazy researcher mode and read every book on the best diet for pregnancy and ensuring healthy offspring.

It was 2016 and keto was in (as it still is now). I was convinced that keto was the way to go.

This was a turning point for me. First, because I was so determined to succeed at this point, and second, because keto is one of the most restrictive diets in existence.

I became super obsessed, and for two years. I couldn’t see that things were going wrong. Very wrong.

There were both physical and psychological signs. I just didn’t have the mental capacity to notice them. And regrettably, there wasn’t anyone around to point out that something was amiss. My environment was, and still is to some extent, more conducive to disordered eating behavior than to recovery.

On the physical side:

My nails were brittle.

My hair was falling out.

My heart rate was slow.

I lost the ability to sweat, despite the vigorous exercise I did.

I was often tired.

I was getting dizzy a lot.

I was shivering cold all the time.

On the psychological side:

I was irritable.

I felt I needed to deserve my food, so I exercised compulsively, at least two hours and up to five hours a day.

I had forgotten how hunger feels. I was eating on a schedule, and that was that. Not feeling hunger was even reassuring.

But despite the latter, when I got to the bakery or the supermarket, I felt intense cravings. My stomach was tight, but I would start salivating strongly. And I would think about food for the rest of the day, weighing the pros and cons of ice cream and my rights to a little pleasure and indulgence in life. My solution was to order just the ‘right’ food online and go out as little as possible.

I started avoiding my friends and family and any outings with food. I couldn’t risk eating anything if it wasn’t prepared by me.

On the other hand, I was keeping some sense of normalcy, while cooking normal food and desserts for my husband. I don’t know why, but the pleasure of cooking was somehow enough, and I didn’t get cravings from this.

I was also obsessed with food and thinking about what to cook for myself and my husband, and what great things we had eaten, but I could never have again.

It was a torturous time. And even though my focus was on being my healthiest self, I had never been sicker in my life. I was suffering deeply.

How I Got Better

I can’t tell you I had a sudden realization about the errors of my ways. As I said, my whole environment supports the dieting mentality, and I had much more support in my dieting efforts than I do now in recovery. But still, I am managing.

I started seeing a therapist because I was lashing out at my husband, and I wanted to control my emotions better. By digging deeper into the issues underlying my anger I found a deep sense of inadequacy and not being enough. In the process of unravelling, I was able to make the connection that my problems with food stem from the same place, and I started working on them.

There are a few things that helped me most.

The first is meditation. Meditating has made a huge difference in my life because it’s enabled me to distance myself from my thoughts, and stop believing everything I think. This was huge.

It was important for me to observe this nasty, critical voice and to realize that it’s not mine. It sounded more like my mother. To distance myself from the voice and the emotionally charged image of my mother, I started seeing it like a mean, old witch. By associating a funny image with this chatter in my head, I was able to acknowledge it was there but go about my life, without engaging too much with it.

This has helped me treat myself much more kindly. And by being kinder to myself I started to accept myself more. I am human and not perfect. In some situations, I still start berating myself. But I catch myself quickly and don’t fall into the rabbit hole.

Second, I reached out for support from some trusted friends and started to go out more and observe other people. To my surprise, most people were not on the brink of death just because they ate pizza a couple times a month or because they enjoyed a drink or two.

Also, I started reading more books written by fat activists, and they have been of great help. They are full of humor, compassion, love, and understanding. They have helped me feel less alone, and I’ve benefitted immensely from their recommendation to normalize your view of your body by looking at images of other fat people.

For me, seeing other women of my size and finding them gorgeous and beautiful helped me accept myself more. Taking more pictures of myself, and getting used to how I look, was also huge for me. Because it’s very different from looking in the mirror. In the mirror you can look at just certain parts of your body and not pay attention to others. In a photo, you don’t have much choice.

This can be really hard at first. But it gets so much better.

Also, I found new ways to move my body and enjoy myself, and rekindled my passions for types of exercise I used to enjoy. This has made it so much easier for me to appreciate my wonderful body. I feel grateful for all I am able to do, every single day.

Choosing what to eat is still a battle sometimes. The disordered voices in my head are not abolished, as I said. But now, I can choose not to pay attention to them or believe them.

So now, when I am debating between pizza and fish with salad, I do a couple of things differently than before.

First, I ask myself what do I really want, and why. If I see that I am leaning toward the fish, but only because it’s “better for me,” I remember the sad person I was before. I remember how bad I felt when my life was ruled by rules. And then I clear the rules from my head and imagine what will taste better for me in this moment. And choose that option.

Of course, I don’t always eat pizza. I strive for balance and make healthy choices on the whole. The point is I don’t constantly deprive myself.

What helps me not fall into my old patterns is remembering the way I feel now. I know that despite being heavier, I haven’t felt happier and freer in my life. Not having that constant anxiety is my motivation.

It’s very hard, but I couldn’t be happier that I am going through this journey. I am connecting to myself, my body, and my wishes in a way I was never able to before. And I feel this is the most valuable experience.

I hope that if you’re battling with the same demons, you’ll win. I am rooting for you. And yes, it is possible.

About Vania Nikolova

Vania Nikolova, PhD, is the head of health research at RunRepeat.com. She uses her academic knowledge and experience with an eating disorder to shed light on why dieting is bad news.

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from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/how-healthy-eating-becomes-unhealthy/

[problem-zu-jeder-loesung-blog]

Rest In Peace 2017 YouTube Hype: GABE THE DOG

Hey guys, well this seems to be my first and probably ONLY english post in this blog. Because... hello, my name is Hamster and I’m a German lifestyle blogger. And I made boring and also stupid experiences with my English Blogs which I have ever made in my life. I spent lots of time searching English translations to words and vocabulary I didn’t know just to post an English text which takes about five minutes to read. And those texts,never mind if I shared them on facebook and anywhere else or if I reblogged them about (it felt like) 100 times.. almost no one liked them, reblogged or shared them, there wasn’t even a damn person commenting on these texts I wrote.

So instead of being desperate with writing English stories which aren’t read by any poo I spent my time with writing my thoughts down which I also write in the language I have no problems with: German. And if there is no person reading or liking or sharing the texts I am less annoyed by this than by the fact that no one did this with my English texts as well. There is no huge work in writing in my father language in contrast to writing in a language I am not grown up with. So if no person cares about my german blog, it’s shit, but also okay becaue then my blog seems to be.. well... uninteresting or not such a huge thing, mean while my English blogs probably aren’t even discovered by any person, because maybe it’s because of the country I am living in and the possiblities which people are gonna catch the posts better than other people.

So yeah, I come to the point: This is my only and first english post here and now I am finally starting with the topic, I actually want to talk about: Gabe the Dog.

It happened 2017, or at least it reached me in New Year,when some of my Facebook contacts and also friends have shared several videos with Songs this little white dog where barking. Remixes which where of course made by humans hand and any programmes which exist and are able to do this. The first video I saw on my facebook time line was the remade Star Wars Title Melody barked by this little white dog whose name I haven’t seriously known until the day I was browsing more of him on YouTube. Gabe, that was his name. A honestly strange name for a dog, in my opinion. 

Well, that’s so far. I had seriously a lot of joy with this dog, barking the melodies and songs we all know. I had fun with watching him because I am a huge dog lover and at the same time one of those people who easily laugh at crazy things like this. It’s just the simple internet humour which makes the most of us laugh and Gabe was just one of these funny and crazy internet hypes especially in 2017, even tho he already existed in 2011. But the most hypes are coming late to Germany.  Now to the sad point of what I actually want to talk about.. In the morning at January 19th Gabe passed away after struggeling for a long time with his heart.

At this point I want to mention that he was of course just a little dog from far away who was famous for his barking and funny remixed videos which were posted by the owner just for everyone’s and also for him and his dog’s fun and joy. Of course I haven’t known Gabe by name, I have never petted him, never talked to him, never met him in my life and there’s seriously no connection inbetween which could give me the reason to feel so sad about this loss. But somehow, I feel sad. Very sad. You know... as I’ve aleady said, I am a huge dog lover. Really, dogs (and sloths) are the very best for me. Dogs make me happy and I also have had a dog for about 5 or even 6 years. We were best friends and I could count on her. She loved me for everything I am, sometimes I shouted at her when she made stupid things, peed on the floor or left a little stinky surprise in my bed.. but we still loved each other especially I loved her. Because she was my baby. When I read about Gabe’s death, I was very sad. I lost even some little tears here and there. I imagined if Gabe was my dog... I would be so broken and sad about this loss. I can’t even describe how updet and hurt I’d be about that. Then I remembered... what about if my little Dog died? I had to give her away to a new family because I couldn’t take care of her anymore. Depressions controlled me as did the Diabetes I couldn’t live with that well, I had no power to give her the nice home and the great life a little dog lady like her deserves. So I gave her away, with no real good bye. I know that she is totally fine in that new family, I got photos where she looked happy into the camera and tat’s not the problem at all, it’s the best for her an it also was before. The fact which makes me so thoughtful, sad and desperate is the question: What if my little dog lady died? I wouldn’t even figure this out. I wouldn’t even know if she is still alive or already in heaven, I couldn’t even say good bye to my lovely favorite pet ever. I couldn’t tell her anymore that I love her and that she was always my favorite, that no dog could ever replace her and take her place in my heart. I started crying by thinking about this. Pets are always a part of the family and it’s always horrible and sad andpainful to lose them. So I also cried a lot when I watched these good bye videos for Gabe. I could feel the pain the owners of him feel as well and I feel so sorry for them.

My thoughts go to the family, friends and owners, fans and lovers of Gabe. Even though I didn’t really know him, I will think of him and keep watching his videos.

My thoughts. ~ H

[anotherstorytime-blog]

The Modern Misfits

My eyes slowly roamed around the room as my phone kept vibrating in my pocket and my subtly dyed purple hair kept falling in my face. I blew up and my hair floated slowly until it came right back down in the same spot just as slowly. Why did I even dye it purple? It’s reminding me of grapes and now I want grapes and now I’m hungry. Stupid grapes.

My ‘advanced degree’ owning AP Calculus teacher, Mrs. Merlot, was currently dragging the white chalk across the board and creating some sort of high tech, ear threatening screeching sound that rivaled a pterodactyl.

“Yes?” Mrs. Merlot asked. I followed her eyes and a boy with his hand held in the air with dark black hair and a blue earring was wiggling in his seat.

“Can I - May I go to the bathroom?” He asked her and I quietly laughed under my breath. He would’ve got chewed out if he continued his first question. Our teacher hates when people say 'Can I?’

Mrs. Merlot’s eyes narrowed slightly and she nodded, “Yes, you may. Hurry up.”

The boy scrambled out of his seat and walked out of the door, everyone staring at the slouched person. He had his hands in his pockets and he put his hood over his head. And he walked out the door.

“Okay, class, now we are going to -,” I jumped in my seat as a loud ringing sound starting blaring throughout the class and hallway. “Please calmly get out of your seats and walk out to the hallway.” Mrs. Merlot tried to say but everyone was in a panic and rushing to walk out of the door abreast and packed like sardines.

“I didn’t know we were having a drill today,” Mrs. Merlot muttered as I walked out of the classroom semi calmly. That was a surprise. Mrs. Merlot was the person you went to if you wanted to know something in the school. She might not be the best math teacher, but she definitely knew what was happening in the school every single day.

Everyone quickly ran out of the classroom and soon the entire hallway was covered in frantic teenagers trying to run out f the door. Someone bumped me roughly in the shoulder and I stumbled  alittle, getting shouts and more shoves as I fell into people’s paths. “Sorry, sorry,” I muttered, annoyed that people were really this crazy over a fire drill. If it was a real fire, we would have heard it over the PA.

Someone had to have pulled the fire alarm… “PUSH ME AGAIN AND I WILL CUT YOUR BALLS OFF AND FEED THEM TO MY PET HAMSTER NIBBLES!” I heard a loud voice scream and I looked ahead of me and there was a girl whose face was slightly obscured by unruly curly light brown hair, skin was a dark mocha brown and whose eyes were blown wide open with anger and annoyance shining through. My eyebrows raised on their own accord as I saw the girl get pushed again and she grabbed the guy by the shirt and punched him in the face. “DON’T FREAKING PUSH ME! ALL OF YOU ARE IDIOTS! IT’S A FAKE FIRE DRILL, DAMMIT!”

Once again, I was pushed and this time I was almost pushed out of the middle part of the throng of panicking students. I tripped over someone’s shoe and fell into the wall. I was leaning against the blandly colored, beige painted wall and trying to get my wits back together. I stood up and the curly-haired girl I saw came barreling towards me. I wanted to move out of the way but then she would take a harder hit than me. When she came close enough, I grabbed her arm and yanked a little and she stumbled her way to standing up sort of straight.

“Woah,” she whipped her hair out of her face and looked at me. She smiled brightly and patted my cheek. “Thanks… Violet.” She said after she looked at my hair pretty closely. Her demeanor now was so different from when she punched that guy in the face.

“No problem,” I replied. “You would have done the same for me.” I smiled a little. Truthfully, I didn’t know that… I was assuming? Don’t assume. You’ll make an ass out of u and me. That’s not nice.

“Probably wouldn’t have, honestly, but thanks anyway,” She smiled and laughed a little. She blew her curly hair out of her face again and started tapping her foot. “Yo, Violet, love the hair, too.”

“Ahh!” I heard another scream and both my and… whatever her name is’ heads turned to the direction of the voice. A big head of dirty blonde hair was rushing towards the spot a few feet away from us and unfortunately, he was built, like really built, and I was not planning on catching that. I’d rather be a full body instead of flat Stanley.

I moved to the side a little and the African-American girl just looked on, picking her nails, as we watched the buff guy slam into the lockers. He grunted and rubbed his back as he looked at us, glasses falling off of his face slightly and brown eyes wide open. “Hey,” he smiled slightly.

“Hey back, hottie,” The girl said and whistles as she looked him up and down. “Name’s Alexa. What’s yours?”

“Xander,” He said as he ran his hand through his straight, black hair. “Nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

He looked at me and that Alexa girl narrowed her eyes. I rolled my eyes and looked towards Xander. “It’s Reagan.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Reagan. Guess these people don’t realize that it’s a fake fire drill,” he said as we glanced at the still moving herd of running kids.  If this was a real fire drill, they’d all be dead and so would we.

“That’s what I’ve been saying the whole time!” Alexa shouted out. I refrained from saying no, that wasn’t what she was saying the whole time. It was more along the lines of I’d probably let you slam face first into the lockers while you can catch me like my knight in a hoodie and jeans. Those weren’t the exact words, but mine sound way cooler.

We all heard a squeak as a small person fell to the floor in front of all three of our feet. “Oops,” the girl giggled as her soft red hair fanned out around her.

“Yo, Cherry, you alright?” Alexa asked the still dazed girl. The redhead looked up at all of us and seemed to do some sort of mouse thing and silently squeaked.

She hid her face in her hair and quietly mumbled, “I’m fine.” And she got up off of the ground slowly. “My name isn’t Cherry,” the quiet girl whispered.

“Well then tell me your name, although either way your name will probably still be Cherry for me,” Alexa said as she took a piece of gum out of Zander’s hand and popped it into her mouth.

“Uhm, it’s, uhm,” She stuttered and Alexa popped a bubble of gum and starting r chewing again. She rolled her eyes and started tapping her feet.

“Well spit it out, Cherry, haven’t got all day. If this was a real fire and our lives depended on you telling us your name, then I would be sending my death letter to Nibbles and kissing the crap out of this sexy Hulk over here.” Alexa said as she stopped tapping her foot.

“Oh, okay, sorry. My name’s Lyria.” She said quietly. she glanced up quickly and her eyes shot back down as she made eye contact with me.

“Well Lyria, my name’s Reagan. That’s Alexa, and that’s Xander.” I introduced this little impromptu gathering. Wonder if Santa Claus is going to bring one of his elves to join.

“Yo, chica, I can introduce myself.” Alexa interrupted as she stepped in front of me. “The name’s Alexa. You’re cute, shy. You don’t look like a Lyria.”

“Um, thanks?” Lyria questioned uncertainly. I looked over to Xander and he was pinching the bridge of his nose and narrowing his eyes at something in front of him. Another head of hair?! But this one was casually walking towards our little… group with a slight limp.

“Hey, any of you got a band-aid? The rest of those idiots are just trying to run over each other.” I looked out to the slowly getting quieter hallway and there aren’t nearly as much people as there were before. I saw a flash of deep black hair and a shiny blue earring and then it was gone. It was the guy from class.

“Uh, I do,” Lyria said softly. She reached into her peach colored purse and pulled out a band-aid. She handed it to him a small he smiled, dimples showing.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” He said as he wrapped the bandage around his finger. “I’m Jared. Your name?”

“It’s Lyria.” The redhead replied.

“It’s Cherry, actually.” Alexa cut in as she poked at Xander’s muscles.

“Alexa, stop touching my muscles.” He said as he pushed her hands off of him.

Alexa rolled her eyes and continued poking his arms. “I’ll stop doing whatever I want whenever I want. You don’t tell me what to do, you sexy Hulk.”

“So, should we go now, or..?” I asked this very different group of people. There was a very loud girl named Alexa, a very quiet girl named Lyria, a buff Hulk named Xander and a sweet-talking, intelligent looking guy named Jared. And then there’s me, Reagan.

Maybe this won’t be as horrible as I think.

Or maybe it’ll be ten times worse.