#but yeah ill try my masters again later. mentally i am not able to do it rj

[clementine-png]

Tag rambling ignore me

[thelovelylolly]

Perfect

Summary : You were the perfect padawan and jedi knight. You had everything in line and under control, which may or may not have caused you to catch Obi-Wan Kenobi’s eye.

Warnings : None :) the only thing is the reader is depicted with having longer hair, or long enough hair to pull into a bun. (also not proofread bc im lazy)

Notes : instead of us simping, how about he simps for us? am i right guys? also the start isn’t my favorite and a lil weak. also pt 2, sorry i’ve been dead for over a month now, i havent had motivation to write that much and school is ending which meant testing :) hopefully ill get my motivation back so i can pump out more fics

Ever since you were a youngling and padawan, your master and other jedi praised you for being the perfect example of a new jedi. You got all the training forms down quickly, you were in control of your force abilities and you were always on time to everything.

It wasn’t even hard for you to do so, it was just natural for you. So that’s what stood out Obi-Wan Kenobi the most. You and him had classes together, bunked near each other and advanced around the same pace. You two were knighted around the same time as well.  

You even helped Obi-Wan out when his padawan, Anakin, caused him stress and trouble. Especially during the Clone Wars. You were a very put together general and your clone squadron was highly renowned, so you were ready to go help 501st and, if needed, the 212th. In Obi-Wan’s eyes, you were perfect 

Now, here you two were, working together again. You were on Obi-Wan’s star destroyer and the two of you, along with both of your clone squadrons, were tasked to go check in on a planet. The Republic had gotten reports of Separatist forces trying to turn the planet against the Republic. You and Obi-Wan were standing around a hologram of the planet with points highlighted where there were attacks.

“I saw we spread our forces out in order to reach all those areas quicker,” Obi-Wan commented, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

You put your hands on your hips. “I agree with General Kenobi. Cody, go tell the men our plan. Once we get on planet, we’ll split into groups then and spread out,” you replied.

Cody saluted you and left, leaving you and Obi-Wan alone. Your gaze fell on Obi-Wan, who was avoiding it. “General Kenobi,” you said, breaking the silence.

His head flicked towards yours, a little bit of blush forming on his cheeks. “Yes General L/N?”

“I’ve been sensing your emotions shifting a lot lately, is everything alright?” You asked, your head titling to the side ever so slightly. Your question made Obi-Wan’s blush increase. 

“Uh,” he paused to clear his throat and think of a excuse, “it’s nothing, just some stress with Anakin is all.”

You hummed as a reply and nodded. “Well, we should go get to the transport ships.”

-----

The trip to planet was easy and so was splitting up. Your men, along with the 212th, were assigned a area of the planet to patrol. Once everything was evenly divided, there was still a little bit of land to cover. It was a flat plain of tall grass with a few tall mountain formations in it. You and Obi-Wan both volunteered to cover it with land speeders.

A transport ship dropped you and Obi-Wan off with two land speeders, once again leaving you two alone. You two prepped your bikes and small amount of supplies you had. The sun was close to setting on the planet and you two planned on only taking a few hours. You pulled your hair into a neat bun so it wouldn’t become a mess from riding your speeder. Obi-Wan watched you and how the late day sunlight made you look as if you were a golden goddess.

“Are you ready to go?” You asked, snapping him out of his thoughts as you mounted your speeder.

“Oh, yes,” he quickly replied, following your actions. The two of you set off towards the setting sun, scanners ready and eyes peeled for any separatist action.

A little while into your patrol, you were getting tired of being quiet. Twilight was setting in at that point. “Do you wanna talk about your stress with Anakin? I know you mentioned it earlier and it seems intense, at least from what I can sense,” you said louder than usual, since you were speeding through tall grass.

“Well, um,” Obi-Wan paused to think of a excuse again, “I think him and his padawan are pulling risky moves in their missions.”

“Don’t they complete their missions successfully?”

Obi-Wan mentally slapped himself. Anakin and Ahsoka were very successful their missions, of course you’ve heard about them. “Uh, yeah, well-”

“Bandits.”

“What?”

“Bandits, coming our way on speeders,” you said, switching the gears on your speeder so you could speed away. You turned right and Obi-Wan followed you. After a few moments, you two saw the bandits still on your tail. “We have to shake them!”

“Let’s split up! I see four, we can each take two,” Obi-Wan replied. You nodded and turned right again while Obi-Wan turned left.

You were doing fine until you looked behind you and saw one of the two bandits following had their blaster rifle out and aiming at your speeder. You gasped as they shot. You jumped right as your speeder exploded. Luckily there was tall grass beside you so you weren’t that hurt from the fall. You had to act dead though, you sensed the bandits coming to check that you were.

Obi-Wan heard an explosion behind him and looked, seeing your speeder blow up. His eyes widened as he thought he worse. He quickly made a sharp turn with his speeder and turned around, causing the two bandits following him to crash into each other in confusion. 

Obi-Wan sped over to where you were, seeing the two other bandits speeding over to him. He jumped off his speeder and grabbed his lightsaber, activating it. As the two speeders were barreling towards him, Obi-Wan simply inhaled and exhaled. Then raced towards them, slicing through both of them. The bandits jumped off their destroyed speeders and hopped onto Obi-Wan’s, stealing it and riding off. Obi-Wan stood their for a moment before deactivating his lightsaber and running to find you. 

You sat yourself up and rubbed your head. Obi-Wan quickly made his way over to you and crouched beside you. “Did they take your speeder?” You asked.

“Yes, come on. I think I see a cave not to far from here. We can stay there for the night and you can contact Cody. My comm link was on my speeder,” Obi-Wan answered, helping you up. Your hair was messy now from the fight and your clothes were dirty from falling on the ground.

“My comm link is a little bit busted, but I think the tracker still works on it. We can activate that once we’re safe,” you replied, following Obi-Wan as he lead you to the cave that he had seen.

--

Obi-Wan was able to make a fire while you tried to fix your comm link’s tracker. You two sat in silence, the fire crackling every once in a while. Obi-Wan watched as you worked, so focused on what you were doing. Some of your hair had fallen out of it’s bun, framing your face. Obi-Wan smiled to himself.

“There, I think I fixed it,” you said, breaking Obi-Wan out of his trance. You pressed a button and moved over to the opening of the cave. “It may take a while to reach the ship since the signal isn’t that strong. I think setting it over here will give it a better chance to reach.”

You sighed and leaned your head against the cave wall, a wave of tiredness washing over you. 

“If you want, you can get some rest. I’ll take first watch,” Obi-Wan said, moving over to where you were so he could see outside. You smiled as a thank you then closed your eyes. 

You were making it harder for Obi-Wan to ignore his feelings for you. Attachments were forbidden by the jedi. With you being the perfect jedi, he didn’t want to be the reason you messed up. No matter how much a struggle it was for him.

Only a little bit in his watch, he felt something heavy fall on his shoulder. He looked over and saw your head there as quiet snores escaped your mouth. Obi-Wan smiled then went back to watching outside. Though, it wouldn’t be long until he got tired and leaned his against yours as he fell asleep.

--

The morning light shined through the cave entrance and woke you and Obi-Wan up. Your fire had died out a while ago, only the ashes and burnt ground left behind. Your comm link was right where you left it. You got up tiredly and picked it up to check on it. 

Obi-Wan stretched a little while you looked around outside. Moments later, you went back into the cave. “There’s a transport ship landing right now,” you said, taking Obi-Wan’s hand and leading him out.

He felt his face heat up at your touch. You didn’t let go of his hand as you two watched the transport ship land in the field below. “Obi-Wan, one last thing,” you started to say.

“What is it?” Obi-Wan replied.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek before letting go of his hand and making your way down to the transport ship. Obi-Wan smiled and touched where you kissed on his cheek. He watched as you met up with Cody in the field and started to explain what happened on your patrol together. Obi-Wan sighed happily before making his way down to you. You were so perfect to him.

[annakie]

Patchy

A little under two years ago I made this post, a chronicle of Patchy, the outside feral, turned inside kitty who took ten years to learn to love being petted.

Today we got some bad news.

TW for pet illness under the cut.

Patchy’s always been a bit of a puker, usually oh, say, once a month or so she’d have a good puke for no reason.  I’ve had other cats that are pukers so it’s not that surprising.

In the late winter/early spring I started to notice more frequent pukes.

I’d decided around that time that I needed to find healthier food for my cats, with Leela, the oldest turning 16, Fry turning 11, Pemily turning 7 and Patchy turning, I don’t know, 12 or 13.  No way to really know.  They already got decent food, but I did my research and had started looking at Blue Buffalo, American Journey and Dave’s canned food. 

Patchy had been on a mostly canned food diet since she went to the vet back in early 2020 and had a bunch of teeth pulled.  Also, as a note, Patchy’s brief flirtation with hanging out in the rest of the house ended after like a month.  She and Fry fought too much, and eventually he claimed the rest of the house is his.  He also still thinks the master bedroom should be his, but, Patchy defends that territory well if anyone else encroaches. (The door just stays closed most of the time.)  I really wish they could have all gotten along, I loved having Patchy out, but both Fry and Patchy agreed it wasn’t going to work.

The food she’d been on was pretty junk-food-ish though, which she did love and eat. But I wanted everyone on more or less the same diet and the highest quality food I could readily get them.  So I bought a lot of cans of different kinds of food, and kept a list of which ones seemed to be hits and misses. (I still have a dozen cans of the kind nobody liked -- Blue Buffalo Wilderness Salmon -- I’ve been meaning to take to the city shelter).

Around halfway into this experiment I noticed Patchy puking more, so I decided to try to stick with her favorite kinds, which, I thought was helping.

But once I was fully vaccinated this year, it was time to get all the pets to the vet.  I noticed Patchy had still lost some weight, I thought it was due to switching around her food too much earlier, and tried to stick with the things I felt she really liked.

Then, of course, Leela got sick, spent two and a half days in the pet ER and almost died back in April, and then it was like... yeah we’re done being afraid of COVID, we’re done waiting.  It’s time to get them all their checkups.

My regular vet was doing COVID restrictions so no pet owners inside the clinic back then, so they took Patchy (and the others) in without me.  I thought Patchy had lost some weight, but Dr. B. sounded alarmed when he called me with how much lost she’d lost in the last year, about five pounds.  He wanted to do some bloodwork for Patchy, and I said of course go for it.  

He called back, sounding much calmer and was like “her bloodwork couldn’t be more perfect.  Let’s try switching up her food, get her on some sensitive stomach food and let’s see how she’s doing in a couple weeks.”

So two weeks later it did seem like she was doing better, I called Dr. B back and he said to bring her back in a month.

It was my plan to take her back next week when I had some PTO coming.  I admit, later than planned... my last couple of months have been mucn more focused on Leela... who, thankfully, continues to thrive.  But feeling like my time with her is running out, she’s been my main area of concern.

The last few days though, Patchy has really not been eating well.  Sometimes she does OK, sometimes nothing at all.  And then puking every day.  I swapped her back even to a few cans of the Junk Food (Whiskas) I still had laying around.  She’d eat it... and then puke it up.  And also she... stopped sleeping with me.  I thought... well, it’s summer.  It’s probably too hot to cuddle.  But she stopped laying on the bed.  She stopped coming up for pets when I come to bed and hang out for awhile specifically to spend time with her and pet her.  She runs under the bed again when I come into the room.  It’s like we regressed to three or four years ago... just two weeks after our two year anniversary of getting to pet her.

So this afternoon we went to the vet.  Getting her into the carrier sucked.  I tried nice methods, then I had to scare her into the closet by running the vacuum, and then pretty roughly grab her.  I have scratches and a pretty deep bite on my thumb which either maybe hit a nerve or is infected, may have to go to the doctor for it tomorrow. (Yes, washed it thoroughly with soap as soon as I could.)  I also hated betraying her trust that badly, but it’s for her own good.  But it was rough.

Dr B. wasn’t working so I saw one of the other vets.  I liked him. Also COVID restrictions are gone so I got to go inside. But after talking to him for a few minutes, going over her history and what changes I’ve made, he spent a long time rubbing her intestines (Patchy was perfectly behaved, at least.)   Then he looked concerned.  Then he said let’s do an ultrasound.

A few minutes he came back in and showed me her scans. 

Lymphoma.

I was a bit stunned for a second so I missed a bit of the technical speak he said next, but it came down to the best thing we could do is give her some medicine that may buy her more time.  It doesn’t sound like Chemo or Operating is even really an option.  I’m going to call back tomorrow and see if Dr. B or the vet I talked to can talk me through it a little better now that I’ve had a chance to digest.

If I can get Patchy to take the medicine, and if she responds well to it... she may have 3 - 6 months left.

If she won’t take it, or if she doesn’t respond, it’s at this point, a matter of her comfort and quality of life.  So... weeks.  And I’m worried about getting her to take the medicine, especially since she won’t even come let me pet her and we just had a huge trust betrayal today. I don’t know if I could take her spending her last few weeks hating me, especially if the medicine doesn’t work.

The vet also told me that... I didn’t do anything wrong.  And we did the right thing six or so weeks ago by changing her food and seeing if a few other things worked. Especially with how good her blookwork looked.  He barely felt the cancer today, he said six weeks ago Dr. B wouldn’t have been able to feel it at all.  And for this particular type of lymphoma... there’s not a lot to be done, anyway.  That made me feel better, at least.

(As a really dumb side note, after I got her home, I sat down to eat dinner and watch an episode of Star Trek to take my mind off of all of this since I’d been crying since I found out, paid my bill, and drove home, stopping at a drive through so I didn’t have the mental load of cooking.  And I’m in the middle of my rewatch of Enterprise.  I bet any trekkies reading this can guess what episode was next in my rewatch because yep I’m in season two and A NIGHT IN SICKBAY started playing, of course, so obviously I NOPED THE FUCK OUT OF THAT EPISODE.  For the non-Trekkies.... the Captain has a dog on board, an adorable beagle, Porthos.  The dog gets sick and almost dies and spends his night in Sickbay.  He does pull through.  But the ONE episode centered around a beloved pet getting sick and almost dying... and that’s the episode that fate decreed I was supposed to watch tonight. I did not.  I don’t know if I can watch it anytime soon.)

So now for the next few weeks I will spend my time being grateful that Leela is alive and thriving and pray she keeps doing so -- I will continue to give her extra love and care and attention, and also I will need to do the same for Patchy.  I can’t even do it at the same time because Patchy will not come out here, and will not allow Leela in her room. 

I am low-key freaking out that there’s the possibility of the nightmare scenario happening to me again.  In winter 2016, after months of being sick, I woke up on Christmas morning and my 16-year-old cat Jim had died overnight.  It was terrible, and traumatic, and I had to deal with everything all alone because anyone who could support me was... well, it was Christmas morning and my family was all out of town, too.  Posting about it on Tumblr... actually really helped me, since it’s the only place I felt like I could talk about it.

That Christmas was on a Sunday.

Wednesday morning I woke up to hearing my dog, Cebu, moaning in pain.   I rushed him to the vet, but whatever happened overnight, it was too late, maybe there wasn’t anything we ever could have done even if I’d been awake when the puking started.  The vet said the kindest thing we could do was put him to sleep.  And we did.

Also I just, JUST now realized that the vet who helped put Cebu to sleep was the same vet who I saw today about Patchy.

But I lost two of my pets within 3 days of each other.  I was very lucky that my job let us have the week between Christmas and New Years off that year.  I had a few days to pull myself together, and I needed it.  It took months to recover totally, though.  Every once in awhile I think about that week and I still cry, though.  I miss them both so much and they both had deaths that were less than ideal.

I remember thinking then “I have like, five years of reprive.  Leela will be sixteen in five years, and that’s when I have to start to worry again, when I have to be ready to say goodbye again.”

I thought then that even after that I’d have two or three years until Patchy would leave me, and two or three years past that until Fry.  And then five more years with Pemily.

Right now I’m realizing that I will likely lose Patchy, very best case in six months, but possibly before July is over.

I need Leela to keep thriving.  I don’t know how I would handle losing another two so close together again.

Patchy is... she’s the one who chose me.  I chose my other cats.  Fry and Pemily I plucked from the backyard when they were tiny kittens and brought them inside.  They didn’t have a choice.  Leela I adopted from a rescue, she didn’t have a choice.  Patchy chose to stay.  She chose to stick around when she realized I’d feed her.  It took years but she learned to trust, she chose to come inside when it was cold, when it was hot, when it was storming, and when she was pregnant.  She chose me to help raise the last litter of kittens she’d ever had.  (My entire Rescue Kitties tag is full of adventures in finding, raising and usually adopting out strays. Lots and lots of posts about Patchy and her final litter.  Been awhile since I’ve done it, though.)

I used to joke that Patchy was my roommate, not a pet.  She ate, drank, did her business, and kept to herself for a long time.  Don’t get me wrong, she was a very good, quiet, considerate roommate and I loved her.  But it wasn’t until that wonderful day she let me pet her that I felt like she was my pet. 

I loved having her just hanging out living in the house since 2014, but the last two years especially have brought me such joy.  I’ve tried to never take Patchy’s trust in me for granted.  It was EARNED.  Every small step forward was a milestone to be celebrated. I worked for every bit of trust and love Patchy has given me, and have been rewarded.  And it was worth it.  Every minute.  Every long, patient year.

Even now I’m telling myself... without me, she would have died years ago.  Probably violently, or starved, maybe frozen to death.  Getting to die of cancer brought on by older age is not something that most feral cats ever get to do.  Getting to become an inside kitty where she’s loved, and comfortable for the second half of her life was something remarkable, brought on by her wiles and will to survive for so many years, bolstered by the food I left out for her.  She’s had this much time, this much life, this much comfort and love that she would have never had otherwise, and that’s something to be happy about.

I’ve watched dozens of ferals come and go through my neighborhood throughout the years.  I feed them, I work on seeing if I can get them to trust me enough to let me TNR them, but even those that I have, I don’t keep seeing for much longer.  There’s one right now, I jokingly call him Patchy’s Boyfriend.  He still won’t trust me and never has fallen for the trap when I’ve tried.  But he’s there most nights when I feed him around 11.  He’s getting terribly thin despite the quality food I leave out.  I’ll miss him.

But none of them were Patchy.  None of them became what she is to me. None of them survived long enough to adapt and decide to live another life.

Also?  I wouldn’t have Pemily without her.  Pemily is literally Patchy’s Granddaughter and that is one more thing I love Patchy for.

I feel guilty sometimes, both because I don’t spend nearly enough waking hours with her I feel, but I have three others who need me, as well. One who’s time is growing short, as well.  And they don’t get to sleep with me, she does.  What a joy it was all winter when I would wake up and she’d be sleeping on my chest.  I’d get a bit annoyed when she’d sleep with her backside to my face and her tail would tickle my face and wake me up.  I’m a side-sleeper half the night and she hated that it was harder to get comfortable on me that way.  She still doesn’t want to have my hand just stay on her, she wants pets and skirtches, no long-form touching.  That’s ok.  I sleep better with her weight on me.

I don’t know what the next few weeks or months will hold, but at least pet-wise, it’s going to be rough.  I’m going to wrap this up and give these three out here a good pet, then go hope Patchy comes and asks for love, too.  Tomorrow is one more day with all four of them, and for that, I’ll be grateful, for every remaining day.

[spell-cleaver]

DAY 17: WHUMPTOBER: I Didn’t See That Coming - Dirty Secret @whumptober2020​

The Pirate Son AU Masterpost. This is an immediate sequel to the previous ficlet (The Song).

Luke was still sitting in a small puddle on the floor of his room when Vader returned, staring into space. Vader just sighed, knelt down next to him, took the towel and wrapped it around Luke’s shoulder, starting to rub at his hair.

Luke looked up at him. Now dressed in a complete departure from his usual black ensemble, some ragged brown trousers, a beige shirt and a scrappy dark jacket, he looked totally different from the monster who’d hunted him for so long. That, and—

“Your…” Luke swallowed. “Your mask.” He wasn’t wearing it at all.

His father smiled at him—it was a quick, bitter smile, more a flash of the teeth, as though he hadn’t bothered with letting anyone see him smile in a long, long time. “It was getting rusty, and cold. I took it off for now.”

“Oh.” Luke was still staring.

Vader looked… He’d been right, Luke thought, all those years ago when he’d first met his father and worried that they looked alike. They did look similar, from the colour of their hair to the clefts in their chins to the shapes of their eyes. Vader’s were a vicious yellow though, and Luke found it uncomfortable to make contact with them for too long.

His father was deathly pale, too, with his skin clinging close to his skull and faint blue tinges at his temple. His hair was cut severely short, shorn close to his head, only adding to the harsh effect, enhancing the blue, and Luke couldn’t help but compare it mentally to his own hair, getting long enough that Leia had starting braiding it in the few days before his capture. He wondered what his father would’ve thought if he’d shown up with that. He wondered if he could try and braid his own hair, now that it wasn’t like he had much else to do…

He wondered why he kept distracting himself.

“What…” His voice was hoarse, his back ramrod straight—he wanted to lean into Vader, but he couldn’t—as he whispered, “What happened, then…?”

Vader paused in drying Luke’s hair and laid the towel around his shoulders again. “When Palpatine inherited the crown of Coruscant and started expanding his Empire with the promise of eradicating piracy from the seas, I joined him wholeheartedly. I hated pirates—they carried the slave shipment that my mother died in—and he promised he knew a way to make sure they never stained the seas again. My wife, Padmé, the light of my life… She was pregnant. I had a family to protect—scouring pirates from the face of the seven seas was certainly a way I was going to achieve that. So I joined him, as one of the most powerful sorcerers to sail the seas, and when I confided in him that I was worried about one day dying in battle and leaving my family alone, the way my father did to me… He told me there was a way to stop myself and others, from dying.”

Luke swallowed, and tried very hard not to think of the way that bullet three years ago had punched right through Vader’s chest, yet still he’d continued on. “That way was to become undead?”

“It was to strip you of your humanity, in the long run,” Vader said, his voice flat. “Taking your mortality is a vital part of that. I cannot eat—not that I need to—and nor can I die. Padmé was horrified by what I’d done to myself—and…”

Vader hesitated. He stood up, to open a drawer and pull out a change of clothes for Luke, so his back was turned to him when he said, “Horrified by the implication that this sort of half-life was what I’d been planning to give my wife and child, as well.”

Luke sucked in a breath.

He felt like he’d been punched.

“You…” He took several heaving breaths. “You— you want me to live like this!?”

“No,” Vader said. “I had not asked Palpatine for the details of the curse, and nor did he offer them. And it is a curse—one that was passed onto all my men, once he gave me a ship with which to serve him. I am bound to him so long as I am in this form, he can sense me and track me wherever I go, he can control every aspect of my life, and I will serve him.”

Luke gaped. “And you agreed to that?”

“No. I did not know what he was offering me—Padmé was right to object to foisting this hellish existence on our child as well, but…” He straightened up again, a nightshirt in hand, and half-turned back to Luke. His eyes were closed.

“She left,” he whispered. “She left me, when she was still pregnant. I searched for her for months.”

“I thought you said you killed her.”

“I searched for her for months,” Vader reiterated, slightly more harshly—then calmer, again, when Luke flinched. “I did not find her until I boarded and inspected a small fisherman’s craft, which she had paid for passage to Alderaan on, with our baby. She’d… she’d set up a life in the hills of Naboo, as far from the sea as she could be, in the months she was away, she’d said, but then… But then you had got sick,” his throat was tight, “with some illness, something magic-related that she couldn’t understand… Sorcerer children get it, frequently. She was travelling to Alderaan, where she would find Kenobi, an old friend who’d turned her against me when I was first cursed, who’d convinced her to leave me in the first place—”

“I know who Ben is,” Luke said shortly.

Vader took a breath. “Yes.” He turned around fully to sit cross-legged opposite Luke, and passed him the nightshirt. Luke put it on with scepticism, but it was dry and warm; he felt slightly better. “She had been travelling to him, to get advice, leaving her home in Naboo under the care of her sister.

“I told her that I could help you. I offered all my services, all my training—magic-related illnesses are tricky, but they are rarely fatal, and I could have found something—so long as you both came back to me. I wanted you back. But she refused and… we fought…”

Luke clenched his fists in the towel and didn’t meet his father’s eyes—suddenly, suddenly he had an idea— “Tell me you didn’t… No…”

“Pirates attacked.”

Luke jerked his head up. Vader continued, “Pirates attacked the ship we were on—bold of them to, but the Executor was separated from their little schooner by the fisherman’s ship, and they couldn’t easily fire on it without fearing to hit me… They boarded the schooner. I ran out to fight them off. But it was only me and a few of my men… You were in a crib on the other end of the ship, watched over by the fisherman, and…”

Luke bowed his head. He… could see where this was going.

“I tried to fight them. But they knew you were my son—they threatened you, they took you, and in the heat of the battle, I— I pulled out my pistol and I shot—”

Vader let out a breath.

“She was in the way,” he said. “I should have been more careful. I should never have argued with her—not to the extent that she made sure you were separated from us, away from our spat. I shouldn’t have ever driven her away.

“The bullet caught her in the chest. She died in minutes. And by the time we were able to hunt down the pirates… We caught up to them days later, but they said they had thrown you overboard and laughed as you drowned.”

Luke… didn’t know how to react to that.

That was awful.

“I… I knew that Ben rescued me from pirates,” he said shakily. “That he saved me as a baby. And he told me that you were my father, several years ago, and that my mother had made it clear to him while pregnant that if anything were to happen to her, she wanted him to look after her child rather than let me go back to you.”

Vader clenched his fists at that, stiffly, but said nothing.

“I made,” he said, “a grave error. And I have lived with it, and my curse, ever since.”

Vader looked away violently, for a second, voice choked. “They took you, son. I was haunted by dreams of a little ghost boy wandering the seas for years. I— I watched that ship retreat and knew that I had lost everything, and when I learnt your name—”

“When you learnt my name,” Luke said, “you decided that anything was justified, in order to get me back?”

Vader let out a breath. “Yes.”

“Killing my friends. Hunting me. Nearly sending me to the gallows—”

“I cannot disobey my master—he ordered that you join us, or be hanged, and I had to tread very, very carefully—”

“You sent me to my death!”

Vader said, “Yes. I did. And I am going to make sure that that is something that will never happen, ever again. I am going to break this curse.”

“How!?” Luke gave him a sceptical look. “It’s a blood oath, isn’t it? It has those hallmarks. Only Palpatine can break it, unless...”

“It is not quite a blood oath, no. It was his adaptation of an old myth—about pirates who stole the wrong person’s gold. Once you took a single coin from that chest, you were cursed for life, until it was broken. He adapted it to swords—there was an old creed of sorcerers, the Sith, who forged a thousand sabres and hid them in a cave on the island of Mustafar. The perfect killing weapons, imbued with the sort of magic that sees its wielder become the ruler of the seas, but once you fasten your hands around the hilt, the curse sets in. You cannot die—but neither can you truly live.”

Vader met Luke’s eyes again, for the first time, and somehow the yellow even had a tinge of red to it, now. “He married it with a blood oath, to make it especially binding. I am his immortal servant, forever.”

“And how do you break it?”

Vader was suddenly very interested in the hem of his shirt. “It is a steep and difficult price,” he said. “Now rest. You need it—your back—”

His back had been in agony the whole time, yeah, but that wasn’t what was important here. “What is the price?”

“We will find a way,” Vader promised, and then he left the room.

Luke listened carefully, but there was no tell-tale click of a lock. He wasn’t locked in, this time.

How did his father plan to break the curse?

Blood oaths… blood oaths often required, well, blood to be broken. The death of the person bound, or the person binding. Or…

Or of someone who shared their blood.

Luke swallowed.

His father had killed his mother.

But he wouldn’t do that, would he?

Luke didn’t know. He didn’t know the man at all. Everything… everything he told him could be a lie. Everything he did could be a lie.

Had he saved him from the sirens just so he could sacrifice Luke himself, later?

Luke didn’t want to die. He especially didn’t want to die like that.

He didn’t sleep very well that night at all.

[balkanmermaid]

Here’s a bit of a novel I have been working on for 4 years! It’s one of my favourite parts, quite emotionally charged and I feel proud of it. Fair warning, however: it has a triggering part where there is much talk about death and, specifically, the wish to take one’s life. I have tried to write it in a positive light, of course, and make the story about the desire to save and protect someone with such wishes. If this topic is uncomfortable for you, feel free to not read this. The story is still under construction, so I may end up not including this scene at all. I will be posting more (and more relaxed) parts of my writing soon!

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“I’ve got a… bit of an odd request, if I may put it that way.”

“Yeah?” I peer up at him curiously, looking into his eyes. Something in them as if strikes a string inside me, a string that I have known only one person to have struck before. A string which I cannot quite hear the melody of. A string whose melody I cannot recognise. Who is he? And what the hell does he want from me?

“I want something that will kill me easily.” My lips part to speak, but no sound escapes them. My heart trembles inside my chest the way a butterfly’s wings do when it lands on top of a flower. My breath catches in my lungs, and my throat runs dry; it feels like I’ve eaten sand and not a cupcake and a chocolate and a slice of pizza. He can’t have said that. He didn’t say that. I didn’t hear that right. I can’t have. I can’t. No, no, no, no, no. I refuse to believe my ears.

“I can’t keep living the way I do.” He cannot look me in the eyes anymore. Is he ashamed of what he has said, or terrified, or can he simply not accept the truth? What could that man’s story be? The shock his words have filled me with feels like lead in my veins, weighing my entire body down like a coat made of all the dead dreams I have killed, all the hopes I have buried, all the sighs I have held back, all the tears I have forbidden myself to cry. My soul twists and turns inside me; my heart aches.

“I have done one too many things, for which I cannot forgive myself.” At last, it’s green on blue again - I am looking into his eyes. His soul is standing there before me, now naked, wounded, writhing, hurt. Begging for release. Beckoning a deed I cannot do. Trying to seduce me to commit a crime I will never even consider. His fate is a story trying to write itself to the end, to put the full stop at the end of the sentence already. And I have the pen.

And I want to put it down.

Sure, my temper is quite short. I get angry very easily. Sometimes, I get too angry, and when that happens, I turn vengeful, and whoever gets in my way with the littlest thing prompts my imagination to fill itself with murder and blood. I often yell when frustrated, or cry.

But I have never consciously hurt anyone, let alone kill. No. The only life I have power over is my own, and even my own life is not something I can call entirely mine, as it is entangled with the fates of so many. And I will never, ever hurt anyone with ill intention. I have promised myself to think twice before acting and saying things, even if I sometimes fail to do so.

For one, it’s simply not worth it, getting pissed off about things that will, in the long run, matter far too little to be considered. And for another, there are far better ways to solve a problem between you and someone else than those involving physical - or mental - bruises.

But how do I explain all that to this man here, whose despair is heavier than a mountain?

“And because I cannot earn my own forgiveness, I have decided I do not want to continue living anymore. Therefore, I’m asking you to end my life for me. In a peaceful, legal way. The right way.” There is something in his eyes that makes my heart weigh with sorrow. Is it a plea? Is he begging - is he actually begging me to take his life with a tattoo? Is this the way he wants to go, by getting a killing spell inked in him with the help of a beautiful, yet deadly image?

My shoulders drop, and I feel them. After them comes the sigh from deep inside me, and I try to swallow. My mouth feels even drier than my mind, devoid from thoughts. All the moisture is in my eyes. My hands hang by my sides uselessly, trying to clutch themselves into fists; it doesn’t work, I cannot feel them, they are too weak, I am too weak. I am too weak.

I try to be righteous, to strive for justice, and yet remain compassionate and kind and caring, as much as I can be, towards my closest people and to my clients alike. But now I am failing. I am failing; or, rather,, my feelings are failing me, and probably betraying me, too, showing themselves right across my face, clear as a mountain stream. Not that my client will judge me. I would have just liked to sometimes be able to remain less emotional and act more rationally and think more logically. But I simply care too much. And it all hurts in the end.

“Sorry, what’s your name?” I think I should ask my client that, first. My voice feels weird, as if I haven’t used it in years. My words sound stupid, making my heart revolt against them angrily inside my chest. Maybe I should have thought better before speaking. Maybe the question that just slipped from between my lips should have been worded differently. Maybe I sounded weird. Maybe I should stop being so unsure of myself...

Whatever. I don’t care about what I sound like. The only thing I care about right now is him.

“Varius. Varius Eriksson.”

"Right." It suddenly hits me why I just asked for his name. Now that we are acquainted - accepting that he knew my name before reaching out to me, at least - we are no longer strangers. Now his fate lies right in my hands. And it is up to nobody else but me to do the right thing.

And I can kill him. Of course I can. Although I cannot be sure whether or not it would be legal to murder him, and whether I would get punished for having done so (too bad I am not most knowledgeable of laws), I can still tattoo him.

And whichever option I choose, turning him down and kicking him out of here, or agreeing to tattoo him and then entering the contract that binds our souls until I am done with charging his soul, as well as his body, with magic, the responsibility lies on my shoulders.

I have a choice. 

Or do I? 

I bite my lip.

And then come the whispers.

Rigmor, child, step away from him.

He shall not remain in your life for long.

Just like everyone else whom you mark.

The three Norns are speaking to me. I can hear them inside my head. Some would say that I’m imagining things. That I’ve started hearing voices because of all my worries.

Yet the voices are not wrong at all.

There has only been one to stay, they whisper on to me. I know exactly what they are talking about.

Kieran. Kieran Dirmot has been the only one to stay.

They have sealed our fates together already.

I can understand everything the voices are whispering and hinting at, as if at least a dimension away. They sound like a mere sigh of the wind… and yet I know just who they belong to.

The three Norns.

What do your threads say, sisters? What happens to him? 

The trio emerges slowly around Varius and me, circling us. I do not know if he sees them as well; he does not bat an eye. Either that, or he has decided to stay perfectly calm and composed and show no emotion. And although I can notice, in the reflection in his eyes, that I have done the same, I can feel my heart racing. My nerves are tight like a circus rope.

Can't you follow them? 

My heart skips a beat. The thread. Of course. The trio of fate-predictresses is spinning a never-ending ball of red yarn - yarn that symbolizes life. At some point, they are going to cut it short. It is just then that the person's life is going to be over. Be it a timely death, or an early loss, it is a procedure they repeat for every human, and perhaps even for other living creatures as well.

And they are about to cut Varius Eriksson's thread.

"This is illegal," are the first words that escape me. My voice sounds ethereal, otherworldly, as if it's but a mere echo of what mine used to be. As if it no longer belongs to me, but to a memory of what I used to be.

"It cannot be. It has not been written in the contract." 

The contract is our sacred law, the laws of magic. Magic is a force, it is talent, it is a craft one may master. And as such, there are words meant to guide us lest we lose ourselves in the opportunities it offers. Words. Not laws.

Magic is to be bound by nothing, the first one says, for lest it becomes trapped, whoever possesses it shall relinquish it as quickly as they found themselves enriched by it.

Magic is mostly a force of creation, and less one of destruction, the second one follows suit. If it happens so that you must use it to kill, you must be aware of the price you shall have to pay for that later.

You cannot lose magic, is the third and last one. Magic is like energy, like a muscle. You may train it, and the more you do, the stronger it shall become. You may transform it into many things, and you may transfer it from one thing to another, focus it on a certain group of things or on another. But it never truly disappears. And you may awaken it inside yourself even if you seal it away, or have sealed it away, no matter how long for.

And, in this case, I am not ready to pay the price for killing someone. Not this person.

Not now.

Not anyone.

Not ever.

"But you must!" Varius whispers. I can feel him want to scream at me, but he is holding himself back. Almost too hard. Is he another person when with his friends and family? I cannot help but wonder instantly. His voice and face do not betray any of his emotions… but just a single look in his eyes tells me he is ready to put on a play in front of me if that will earn him what he craves. "I have sinned. Rid this wretched earth of me!"

"No." Now my voice drops as well. Just where are my friends when I need them? It seems it's only the two of us out here, me and him. Yeona and Leila have left the tattoo parlour to enjoy their break. And we are alone.

"That will make me a murderer, Varius. Do you understand that?" I walk closer to him, leaning in a little. Usually, dangerous is the last thing people will describe me as. But now I need to be seen as such. I need to be a goddess of just wrath, a protectress, even if angry. I want to scare the sorrow out of him, if I can. Somehow. Or at least try to make him realise what he is about to do. Talk some sense into him. Or scare it into him. Either works.

"I cannot reverse this once I have begun. You must know that." I step away from him to pour myself some lemonade. The cool liquid, with a few cubes of ice, helps me regain calmness. There. Now it's time to get back in the game.

"I know it. I went to a hospital first," he says. His head is hanging towards the floor, as heavy as my heart feels inside my chest, made of stone, of iron, and just as cold. "They absolutely refused to assist me there. Not because it was illegal - it isn't. But they did not acknowledge my previous reincarnations as years of life. I can be euthanised even now. I have done what I thought would be right, and I have erred, too. One too many times. So, please… I'm begging you."

Then he does something I do not expect at all. He goes to his knees in front of me.

"Please, Miss Strid, I'm begging you. Take my life. I know it will be sent somewhere where it belongs better than it does with this broken body."

"Fine. Let it be so." A part of me says it simply because I want him to be done with the theatrics, with the useless drama. Sure, he is going to miss living, or at least a part of him is, and I am sure of that. But then again, it was him who chose to get a symbol inked into his skin so dangerous that he will most likely not be able to escape its power.

I am in my right to refuse to tattoo him - to refuse to take his life. 

But not when the three Norns themselves have judged that he is to die, anyway, I think it will be far better for me to kill him painlessly than to have them decide to make him go through a worse, more painful and horrible death.

And yet, I do not want to do this. 

I never wanted to do something like this, I think as Varius sits down and I prepare myself to begin. But there are things I can do. I do not have to let this happen. There is a way for me to stop this from happening. And I know that. I am sure of it. But what was that way, anyway? 

I can seal my powers, it hits me then. I am in my right to refuse to tattoo someone - and there is nothing written in the contract that states whether or not I should obey any gods or creatures with supernatural powers. I can always seal my powers and lie that I do not have them.

The sealing process takes blood. Blood has to be drawn to seal your magic, and blood has to be drawn to reopen it for use again. Blood, and lots, lots of pain. A price to pay for rejecting, if temporarily, the gift the gods have bestowed you with. A price I am willing to pay.

"I'll be right back in a bit, alright?" Varius nods when I tell him that, and I smile at him before turning away. As I walk up towards the second floor to find the pocket knife we keep in the tool drawer for cutting apart the cardboard boxes that tattoo supplies are delivered in, I feel a cold sweat run over my brow.

But if saving someone is only going to cost me a little blood and some scars, so be it.

Once I am alone in the bathroom, I look at myself in the mirror, then down at the knife in my hands. I set my jaw and frown down at myself. There's a ton of nasty stuff you gotta do on a daily basis if you wanna survive. But it brings a feeling of fulfillment. At least, a little reward for the trouble.

And I will definitely be getting my reward.

[snakeboistan]

‘Cause You Had A Bad Day (You’re Taking One Down)

AKA: A Nagisa-Centric Sick Fic

Pairing: Nagisa x 3-E (platonic)

Today was not Nagisa’s day. Not at all.

It all started when he woke up that morning feeling like he had been hit by a freight train that was coming at him at full speed. Groggily, he blinked open his eyes to find his forehead covered in a glistening sheen of sweat covering his forehead and a giant boulder that he could not see had him pinned down onto his bed. With strenuous effort, he had rolled over, planted his feet onto his bedroom floor and clutched onto his bedside table to help him stand up - and then almost fell over backwards because of how his head spun from the movement. He had dragged his feet towards his bathroom and his reflection in the mirror above the sink would’ve made him gasp if it weren’t for the woodpecker drilling in his cranium and the raw scratchiness of his throat. His normally porcelain white face was flushed pink and his eyes lacked their usual brightness. Oh god, of all days for him to get a fever, it had to be on the day they had an English test. Well, at least it was Friday so he’ll have the whole weekend to sleep it off. He was then overcome by a feeling of dread as he threw himself before his commode, retching and emptying out the contents of his stomach - which already felt unnaturally empty to begin with. Groaning in despair, he fumbled an arm above him to flush the toilet and flip down the lid so that he could rest his head on it’s cooler surface as he breathed deeply.

‘This is the worst,’ he lamented, noticing how his body was currently shivering despite the heat of the early morning sun, ‘completely defeated by a stupid fever. And I’m supposed to be a trained assassin. How the hell am I supposed to kill Koro-Sensei if I can’t even stand up properly or think straight.’ With a hefty sigh, he pushed himself upwards, blinking rapidly as he waved his arms about to steady his shaking legs. ‘I bet Karasuma-Sensei doesn’t let something as small as an illness stop him from doing what he does. That man has like no chinks at all. I can’t afford to skip, not with my grades. If I don’t want to let him and everyone else down, I’ve got to act as normally as possible. I’ll be a liability if my sickness drags me down and the last thing I want is to burden my classmates. An assassin should be able to overcome anything and shouldn’t get in the way so that’s what I’ll do. Hopefully, it’ll get better later.’

Once he had dressed himself in his usual school clothes and tied his hair into his usual pigtails, he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed off to school, choosing to skip breakfast and not pack himself lunch with the hope that the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach would die down if he didn’t eat anything. What followed was what Nagisa would describe as the worst walk to school he had ever undergone in his entire life: his throat was dry, tongue parched, body weak and every noise he heard only amplified the throbbing in his head. His insulating clothing felt suffocating, his black tie practically holding his neck in a choke hold, and he knew the heat he felt radiating off of him wasn’t due to the fact that it was nearing summer. 

“Hey, Nagisa,” Sugino called, somehow materialising out of nothing, “what’s up.”

Nagisa tried not to jump from shock. Normally he would’ve been able to hear his best friend from a mile away, would’ve been able to discern the tell-tale thuds of the taller boy’s favourite sneakers against the concrete and sense his presence before he could’ve said a word. It was common knowledge in their so-called ‘Assassination Classroom’ that sneaking up on Nagisa is about as difficult as getting Fuwa to go twenty-four hours without referencing a manga - his ability to observe his surroundings and everyone in them was one of the few things he was actually good at. To make up for his current lack of observational skills and his tinted complexion he hastily threw on a smile and greeted, “Oh, hey Sugino. Nothing much. How are you.”

Sugino narrowed his eyes at the shorter boy as Nagisa mentally congratulated himself for stringing those words out coherently. With a raised eyebrow, he replied slowly, “I’m fine, thanks. Are - are you okay, dude.”

“Of course I am,” he laughed, somewhat nervously, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look a bit… tired.”

“I am,” he sighed, “I stayed up a bit late to study for that test we have today. I guess I was kind of pushing it with my sleeping hours, huh.”

Sugino looked at him for a second before stating, “sure.”

Sensing that Sugino was going to probe into something that he really didn’t want to discuss right now (or ever), he continued, “hopefully I studied enough. I mean English is my best subject so I’m hoping for at least an eighty-five percent.”

The sceptical look was washed off of his best friend’s face as his features softened into the usual fond smile he wears around the bluenette, “I’m sure you’ll ace it, man. I know how hard you work. You’ve just got to watch out for those spelling errors, right.”

“Right,” Nagisa echoed with a half-authentic grin, whilst in his mind he castigated, ‘you can’t let your guard down like that, idiot. You saw the way Sugino looked at you. You’ve got to get better at hiding this before you inconvenience the entire class and mess up their day. God, mom was right - I really am a burden. Just spend the rest of the day like nothing’s wrong and hopefully this will go down.’

Unfortunately for him, his pain only got worse and every step up the E-Class mountain made him feel like his calf bones were being split open. It was a considerable effort for him to remain upright as he conversed with Sugino, and his sweat-slicken body made his shirt stick to his skin in the most uncomfortable way possible. His muscles were screaming at him, begging him to stop what he was doing and to just collapse into a heap on the forest floor but he continued to trudge along the path towards the classroom at the top. He could do this. He’s used to hiding his emotions. He’s spent years mastering the art of concealing what he truly felt, surely he could last seven hours - even if they were under the watchful eye of a superpowered octopus, a government agent, one of the world’s top assassins and twenty-six assassins in training.

Upon entering the classroom, he gave his usual greetings, whilst narrowly avoiding any direct contact with any of his classmates lest they feel his unnaturally high body temperature, before slumping onto his seat.

“Hiya, Nagisa,” Kayano chirped, as bubbly as always, “how are you doing?”

Nagisa looked up and hoped that the weak smile he gave her did not resemble a grimace at all, “I’m fine, thanks. How are-”

He was interrupted by a smooth voice, “you sure about that, Nagisa? ‘Cause you’re looking a little on the red side.”

He swiveled his head around and immediately regretted that particular action as his migraine worsened. Karma, who was standing next to Kayano on the adjacent side of his desk, had on his signature smirk but the look in his eyes was calculating. He huffed out a laugh, “I’m fine, Karma.”

“Really?” the redhead raised an eyebrow, “because you look like the walking dead.”

“I just didn’t get enough sleep last night, that’s all,” Nagisa argued, tone a tad bit on the defensive side, “I was so caught up in studying for today’s test that I only got like five hours.”

“That’s not good, Nagisa,” Kayano admonished with a gasp, “you need to take better care of yourself, you know. Studying is important but so is your health.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nagisa mumbled with his head down.

Great, it’s only been like two minutes and I’m already making them worry.

“Besides,” Nakamura chimed in with a grin, “you’re great at English. You were one mark away from me in the last test we took so you shouldn’t worry so badly.”

“That’s what I told him,” Sugino said, “but he’s Nagisa. He just has to worry about something.”

They all traded fond looks as Nagisa let out nervous chuckles. It was then that his stomach constricted sharply. He quickly excused himself with a squeak of ‘bathroom’ before fleeing the classroom, unaware of the narrowed golden eyes that followed him.

Once he was locked within the cubicle of the building’s lavatory, he was quick to once again empty out the contents of his stomach, thanking every deity out there that he arrived early so his discordant gagging wouldn’t have been heard by their teacher with his enhanced senses. It was then a lightbulb when off in his head as he mentally slammed a palm against his forehead. Zipping open his schoolbag, he fumbled inside before drawing out a bright red first aid kit. With a sigh of relief, he opened it and grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen but then his hope dissipated when he capsized it to find it empty. Oh, right, he gave the last few pills to Okano the other day when she was complaining about her menstrual cramps and he forgot to go to the pharmacy to buy more. ‘Dammit, Shiota. What if someone else needed those. Your classmates could be in pain and you would’ve been useless in helping them.’ Despairing at his fate, he flushed, got up, washed his hands and made his way back to his classroom, wrapping his arms around himself to hide his shivering.

Entering the room again, he was met with concerned looks from his peers. Giving them a comforting smile, he walked as confidently as he could with the little energy he had back to his desk, ignoring the eyes that he felt on him. Luckily for him, before anyone could speak, they all felt a gush of wind whoosh through the classroom and in a blink of an eye, their homeroom teacher stood before them.

“Good morning, students,” he called out cheerfully, “I hope you all are ready for your test today. I know that it’s the last day of the week but I’m sure that each of you will be able to power through. Now, I can see that everyone is present but why don’t I take the register anyways as you boys and girls try to kill me, alright? It will be a perfect warm-up exercise to get you all pumped for the day.”

And with that, their class’ school day began as it always does; with Koro-Sensei holding the register and calling out names whilst dodging bullets at Mach 20. Even in extreme agony and lethargy, Nagisa could only find amusement in that as he aimed and fired, whilst simultaneously doing all he could to not let the abnormally heavy gun slip from his grasp. When roll call was over, he could only tell that his fever was getting worse as he was hunching down to grab the stray anti-sensei bbs that lay littered on the floor. He knew that he should probably tell Koro-Sensei that he wasn’t feeling well, that he could use some medicine that he knew that the octopus could get in less than a nano-second but doing so would draw attention and alert the others and then everyone will know how weak he is, how he can’t handle his own immune system, how he is unfit to be an assassin. Or even worse, they’ll be concerned;  they’ll fret and worry over him and lose focus, make mistakes that could cost them, their billion dollar yen and the fate of the Earth. He could ruin everything. So it’s best to keep quiet. Even when his throbbing head feels like shutting down and his skin is on fire and there's enough sweat covering his body to water the tulips in the E-Class garden.

Fortunately, he was able to complete the test to the best of his ability. It was a comprehension assessment and it wasn’t too challenging for him, which was good because he was able to put more effort in keeping his head up than he planned to. Unfortunately, however, his theory of the fever getting better was horribly horribly wrong. If anything, it became worse, if that was even possible: His stomach twisted sporadically every time he took a breath, the cave of his mouth and the empty vessel of his oesophagus stung like they had been rubbed raw and so every painful swallow only increased their pleas for water (he had finished his bottle and he was not going to be asking to borrow anyone else’s), he could feel the build-up of perspiration along the outline of his shirt under his arms (he was so glad that he wore a dark waistcoat to school) and he could see the way his hands would shake no matter how hard he tried to suppress them. It was already the second period of his five-period school day and so all he had to do was last three more lessons and he can go home and hibernate for the rest of the week. He had no idea how he was going to survive Physical Education with the military training exercises that Karasuma had them doing for the past three days. He hoped and prayed that they wouldn't be sparing because that would require contact and fast moves and there’s no way he’d be able to hide anything then.

He didn’t have to wait that long, however, because he was found out by period three.

After spending their break acting as normal as possible without drawing attention to the way every single cell inside him ached and groaned as well as the fact that he was without his usual breaktime snack, he walked into the classroom, ready for their science lesson. Today they were going to do a practical (something about reactions or something, honestly he couldn’t concentrate at all at this moment because his mind was so hazy and he was currently too busy trying not to cry). He turned to Sugino, his regular partner in science, before Karma swiftly walked in between them.

“Yo, Nagisa,” he said, “wanna be partners.”

Nagisa blinked at him before looking around him to meet Sugino’s eyes. The baseball lover only shrugged and then walked away to pair up with Kanzaki. With the way he and the redhead shared eye contact as he left, Nagisa was sure that the two of them were planning something for once the twisting of his gut was not due to his current affliction.

“Uhh, sure,” Nagisa agreed, half because he has a problem with saying no and half because he was sure that even if he did refuse, Karma would still pair up with him anyway.

“Great,” the taller boy grinned.

As soon as the class had set up the apparatus and began their experiment his conjecture was confirmed as Karma had stated, “so what’s with you?”

Nagisa almost dropped the textbook he was holding, “huh.”

The other boy scoffed, “don’t play dumb, Nagisa. There’s something wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong, Karma.”

“Oh really. Then explain why you didn’t eat anything during break today-”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“-Or why you look like you’re about to keel over any second.”

“I told you. I stayed up too late.”

“- Or what that little trip to the bathroom was for.”

“I had to use the bathroom like any other normal person. I didn’t realise that I had to tell you the purpose of everywhere I go. And what’s with all of the questions?” Nagisa didn’t mean to sound so defensive or snappy, not to one of his best friends who he knows is only looking out for him. He knows that that’s how Karma is; whilst Nagisa approaches problems with caution and care, the redhead goes on with a complete offensive attack - assaulting with blunt words and hard facts to break you down. He doesn’t believe in the roundabout way, he’s always direct and wants things done at the time. His ability to get what he wants is one of the qualities in the other boy that Nagisa admired, but right now it was a pain in the neck. He felt cornered and trapped and something inside him, the viper he could feel curling around in his unconscious, was ready to lash out and bite and that’s the last thing he wanted.

“Hey, no need for that tone,” Karma held up his hands, “I was just asking. There’s no harm in that, right.”

Nagisa let out a sigh, “you’re right. I’m sorry for snapping. It’s just that I really just want to get on with this.”

“I still think you’re hiding something.”

“Karma, I’m trying to read the instructions. You’re kind of distracting me.” (it’s not like he was able to read the words anyway, they all seemed to blur into one big smudge of dancing black on the page)

“Why can’t you just say what’s wrong. What’s the big deal.”

“Karma.”

“Just go ahead and say it, Nagisa. What are you so afraid of.”

“I - I,” he sighed wearily, dropping his shoulders, “I should get another test tube. We’re missing one for the experiment.”

“Nagisa,” he could hear Karma calling him but he ignored it as he speed walked to the front desk to grab another piece of apparatus. It was on his way back that he could feel his stomach give a lurch. His heart was racing as the pain in his head had reached a new intensity. His stomach dropped and he felt apprehension crash over him.

‘Oh no,’ he thought as his hands began to shake.

His surroundings started to lose focus. The floor was swaying under his feet.

No, no. Not now. Not in front of everyone. 

His head felt light. So so very light.

‘Come on Nagisa, one more step,’ he urged before his eyes rolled. He could faintly hear the sound of glass breaking and horrified shouts of his name before the world went dark.

…..

The first thing Nagisa noticed when he came to was that this was not his bedroom. His eyes opened after steady blinks, and the first thing he found himself facing was a blur of different colours that he was sure didn’t belong in his house. Once his eyes adjusted themselves and focused properly, he recognised it as a notice board with lots of paper pinned onto the multicoloured backdrop. Then he realised that his forehead was covered with cold water, probably from the ice pack that he found lying on the floor next to him. It was when he heard the soft clicks of a computer’s keyboard that he registered that he was in the teachers’ lounge. With a gasp, he sat up on the row of chairs that had been pushed together to form a makeshift bed, the softness under his palms made him realise that a pile of blankets were thrown on to make him more comfortable. Karasuma, who was the one that was using the computer, turned around on his chair to face him.

“Nagisa, you’re up. How are you doing,” he asked as he stood up and walked towards him with a bottle of water, “we were all very worried.”

“Uhh,” was his coherent reply.

“Here, this will make you feel better,” the man said, holding out the bottle as well as a small white tablet. When Nagisa reached out to grab them, he found that his right hand was wrapped around in a bandage. He blinked at it in shock, “when you fainted, your hand landed on some glass. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll inform your classmates and the target that you’re up and I’ll be right back.”

Nagisa watched as Karasuma left, and continued to observe the door for a few seconds before looking down at the uncapped bottle. He threw his head back and downed it hurriedly, yearning to relieve the pain in his throat. It didn’t do much since he still felt like just begging god to just finish the job and get it over and done with but he appreciated it regardless.

“OH NAGISA, I WAS SO WORRIED!” Koro-Sensei wailed as he appeared before him with medicine boxes, books on fevers, and five bottles of water, “WHAT A TERRIBLE SENSEI I AM TO BE UNAWARE OF MY STUDENT’S SUFFERING. THE SHAME. AH, I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME FOR BEING SO CARELESS.”

“Koro-Sensei, please,” Nagisa said, “it’s not your fault. I was hiding it because I didn't want anyone to know.”

“Bu-but why,” his teacher asked, sniffling, “as your teacher, it’s important for me to be aware if you’re not feeling well. OR AM I NOT APPROACHABLE ENOUGH FOR YOU TO UNLOAD YOUR WORRIES?”

“No, no,” he replied quickly, “I just - I just don’t like people knowing when I’m not feeling well, that’s all.”

The octopus paused. Slowly he said, “why’s that Nagisa? Do you think that your classmates will treat you any differently if they knew?”

Nagisa looked down and mumbled, “it’s - it’s just that. Well, we’re supposed to be assassins, Sir. I don’t think trained killers let themselves fall back just because they’re not well.”

“Nagisa,” Koro-Sensei’s voice was stern but still held his kind and gentle tone, “you are a valuable member of this class. Every single one of your peers consider you an asset, an ally and a friend. We all look after each other here. We are all striving towards the same goal. Together. As students and as assassins, an important aspect of life is to be able to work as a team. To carry on through your strongest and lift each other up at your weakest. I see you looking out for others. Why won’t you let others look out for you?”

“I just didn’t want to be a burden, “ Nagisa whispered, “I thought I could deal with it.”

“Nagisa, you are not a burden. You have a burden. A burden that you have no need to carry on our own. I know this may seem difficult to you, but please: next time you find yourself in a situation where you can ask for help, don’t be afraid to.”

Nagisa looked up and despite the wide smile on his teacher’s face, he knew that the octopus was serious. He nodded.

“Wonderful,” Koro-Sensei beamed and clapped his hands, “now, I’m sure that the others would want to see you so I’m not going to keep them waiting any longer.”

“About time,” Karma said as he walked in.

“Were you there the whole time?” Nagisa asked as Koro-Sensei gasped theatrically.

“Karma, I thought I told you to wait in the classroom.”

“I know,” Karma smirked, pulling up a chair and sitting on it, “but the thing is that I didn’t want to.”

“WHY DO YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME!?”

“Uhh, Sir?” Nakamura popped her head in, “are you going to leave or not because the rest of us are waiting.”

With a cry of despair, the teacher left the room. Nagisa turned to face Karma.

“I-,” 

“You okay,” Karma asked, cutting through the apology that Nagisa had at his throat, “and don’t you dare lie.”

“I’ve been better.”

“God, Nagisa. Why did you try to hide this? You scared the c**p out of everyone. It would've been funny to see Terasaka lose his s*** if it weren’t for the fact that you were lying on the floor, bleeding and not responding to anyone. Did you know that you had a temperature of 40°C?”

“I’m sorry, Karma. I didn’t want everyone to freak out, I swear, that’s kind of the reason why I didn’t tell you guys anything. I just -” he was cut off as his migraine increased and his stomach flipped. His wince and groan of agony made Karma’s eyebrows furrow.

“You good? Do you want to rest more?”

“I - yeah. I think that might be best.”

“Alright then,” Karma pulled out his phone and began scrolling through it, “rest all you want. I’ll make sure no one comes to bother you.”

…

The rest of the day continued with his classmates coming to check on him, even after school was over: Sugaya had made an A3 sized get well soon card and the entire class had signed it, Fuwa decided to help him go to sleep by reading a manga to him like a bedtime story, Sugino and Kayano berated him for hiding his illness before hugging him, Hara offered him some soup to help him feel better, Hazama offered to use a spell to ‘expel the sickness and other evil entities’ from his body (he was quick to decline that), most of the girls were fussing and doting over their ‘kind of little brother’ and were quick to do whatever he wanted to help him get better (especially Yada, who actually had experience with looking after her sick younger brother) whilst the boys tried to cheer him up with funny anecdotes. When it was time to return home, Karma and Sugino took turns in carrying him down the mountain and to his apartment (ignoring his protests and reminders that they would get sick), even going as far as to tuck him in and place a bottle of ibuprofen on the bedside table. They left with promises of returning the next day to make sure that he was taking care of himself and as they did, Nagisa couldn’t help but be glad that he had such loving classmates.

[fantasy-pens]

United By Love, Rain And Forgotten Umbrellas

Her eyes as blue as the merciful drops from the heaven. His eyes as green as the happy grass enjoying the heavenly showers. A tale of how forgotten umbrellas in the rain bring together the four lovable sides of the Love Square.

Chapter 3: A Lost Love Rekindled, A New Love Discovered

Summary:  Post Miracle Queen, confusion and heart break prevails for our love square dorks. Will the rain play its role in retying the threads of the square that's breaking apart?

(Kudos to the anonymous artist of this beautiful art I found on the net! If anyone knows who the artist is, please feel free to inform! <3)

............................................................

Heavy downpour sure is a blessing for many. It rejuvenates life, removes the thirst of parched lands, becomes the symbol of eternal love…

 Lightning flashed in the dark sky, only to bring into view the silhouette of a girl swinging over the city of love, sprinting on slippery rooftops and jumping over alleys. A yo-yo zipped out of her hands, wrapping around a distant lamp-post in the local park. Giving the string a tug, the girl sailed in the sky like a ladybug until…

 … She felt the string slip, her hold slackening as gravity pulled her down. Not getting time to brace herself for the impact, the girl fell on her side, sliding in the mud for a short distance before coming to a stop.

 Pain shot up her body as she gasped for air. No scream escaped her lips, though. How could it? Her throat was already raw due to all the screaming she did earlier.

 The girl rolled lightly on the ground, cradling her left shoulder, her teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut in pain. Maybe she should have used the teleportation powers of Kaalki to get out of the city, then she surely wouldn’t have got stuck in this rain. But she still couldn’t risk taking the Miraculouses out. Hawk Moth knew she was the new Guardian of the Miraculouses. Plus, who knows what information that conniving man had acquired from Master Fu when he had held the old man captive? No, Ladybug surely could not take the risk, at least not until she came to terms with the new reality.

 Responsibility had not been ceremoniously bestowed upon her. No. Circumstances just threw the entire burden of the magical jewels and the city on the teenage girl’s shoulders without warning. There was a limit to how much she could handle, after all. The emotional collapse she had had in front of Luka… that was just the tip of the iceberg. With Lila hell-bent on ruining her ties with everyone, the responsibilities of Paris and the Miraculouses on her shoulders, her entirely messed-up and disastrous love-life and her own stupidity being the cause of the loss of the Great Guardian… Marinette had been a walking farm for akumas. Tikki had suggested she go to the countryside, far from the range of akumas, to let her emotions out. And that’s what she did. 

 Letting out the rage, the frustration, the despair, the agony, the hurt had helped a bit. But as she now lay on the ground, her body figuratively screaming at her for the exertion it faced, somehow, Ladybug couldn’t stop the deprecating feeling of being clumsy and useless from washing over her. Her eyes again brimmed up with tears she thought she had run out of.

“Is that Ladybug?”

The voice snapped the heroine back to attention. No. Ladybug was Paris’ beacon of hope. She wouldn’t let them see her down.

 Shakily getting up, the heroine barely suppressed the wince that escaped her as her strained muscles begged for her to stop. Looking over to the civilians who had been rushing to help her up, the girl gave them a short smile and wave, and yo-yoed away.

 Another benefit of the heavy downpour? The world never gets to know that you’ve been crying.

 ....................................................................... 

Exhaustion crept over her, and one thing was clear. She wouldn’t be able to make it home like this.

Glancing around wearily, the heroine searched for a quiet place where she could give her limbs some rest. It won’t do her or Paris any good if she got ill. Especially when she was the Guardian of the city now.

A familiar mansion caught her eye. Specifically, a window that always remained open. 

 Her heart clenched, remembering the heartbreak she had felt the day everything went wrong. No. She wouldn’t take his help. Maintaining the distance between them was the best way to reduce her ache.

But her body wasn’t hearing any of it, for she felt herself sway as she took another step.

 Looking at the mansion again, the girl debated her choices. Did she have the strength, the will to look at him, be near him, and remind her heart that no matter how much she desired, he would  never  be hers? She had seen  them  that day, the model with the fencer, staring into each other’s eyes like they were the only ones who existed. How  she  had leaned into him, and he didn’t back off. How they… how they  clearly  had feelings for each other. 

As darkness started to creep into her vision, she made her choice.

 Desperate times call for desperate measures. He was the only one right now whom she could trust. She could deal with her heartbreak later.

 ...........................................................

Romancing Camembert without spectators was... Well, not fun .

 Plagg was busy spouting poetry at the best dairy product in the world (try changing his mind) when he noticed that the background ‘appreciation’ was missing. 

Gazing at his chosen, the kwami noticed something was off. Like, way off.

“Adrien?”

No answer. 

Well, this was new. Might as well take some risks.

 The little being gingerly took the cheese to the boy’s nose.

One. Two. Three.

“PLAGG! What the actual--?” the blond finally screamed, coming out of his stupor.

“Kid, you were lost. Like actually lost, unresponsive! You had me freaking worried! Now spill, what is the matter with you?"

 The blond merely sighed, running his hand through his hair as he stared at the photo on his phone. 

Selfies of him, Marinette and Kagami.

Focusing on the Ladyblog window on his computer screen, Adrien let out a sigh again.

 “Plagg, I am. So. Confused.”

“Confused why, kid?” the kwami worriedly asked.

“It is just that, my thoughts… they are all haywire. I… I don’t know what I want, what love is like. Everything is so, so… confusing. So many questions, so few answers,” sighing, the boy closed his eyes.

“Spill it, kid,” the little being offered. “I might not be a love expert, but maybe I could help? It is about Ladybug, right?”

 “Yeah. Kinda,” the blond muttered. “I mean, I said I would love the girl beneath the mask, and I really do! But... Does she love me back? I mean, she sure sees me as her partner and of course cares about me as her best friend, and I-I do cherish that friendship, but… but I still hope for more, Plagg. Her constant rejections, frustrations at my flirting, and her admission of having a crush… They make me wonder, am I doing the right thing? Chasing after her like that?

“Like, that time when we fought Frozer, I did feel I was a tad bit too pushy. I don’t want to push her away, Plagg. But I need some certainty now… I don’t know what to do. Should I chase after her? Or should I give up? But then again, Plagg, if I am even thinking of giving up, doesn’t that mean that my love isn’t true? Ughh,” the blond buried his face in his hands.

 “Kid, some other day, I would have happily advised you to leave the females and get together with my gooey delight. And I sure am not as good with all the mushy lovey-dovey stuff as SugarCube, but for one point, kid, I think chasing after the mask is only going to end up with you getting hurt.”

The kwami sat atop his chosen’s head, patting his blond hair, “You don't know who exactly she is under the mask. Chances might be slim, but maybe she is some snobby co-model you hate? Or she hates your model self? Who knows, she might be crushing on someone who hates your guts? Or maybe some sister-like best friend of yours? Or your classmate?”

“There are so many possibilities, kid, that going after the uncertain while leaving the certain is nothing short of tomfoolery. You have that Kagami girl, Pigtails, and many more! My point, kid, is just that chasing after a mask is only playing with your own feelings,” the kwami buried himself in the boy’s hair, purring and providing the human with a sense of comfort.

“But Plagg, what if..”

 A whirring sound followed by a dull THUD! interrupted the blond and his kwami zoomed away to a convenient hiding place. What the boy saw shocked him.

“Ladybug?!”

 The heroine in red-and-black-polka dots merely groaned in pain. Adrien ran over to help her, worried out of his wits seeing his crime-fighting partner all muddied and in pain.

“Ladybug? Is everything alright? Is there an akuma?” he asked hurriedly.

 “Re- Rest,” was all the girl muttered before her eyes shut.

.......................................................................... 

Her head felt so heavy, like she had just been hit by some jumbo mental truck. Blinking the dark spots away from her vision, she looked around .

Big windows beyond the grey banisters. Nice view outside. The girl snuggled deeper into the sleeping bag.

 Wait. Sleeping bag? Grey banisters? Big windows?

WHERE WAS SHE?

 Panicking, Marinette nearly shot up straight, only to groan at the feeling of headrush and plop back down.

So, she was in some unknown place, sleeping in someone’s sleeping bag. She didn’t remember how she ended up here. The only vague memories she had were of sprinting on the rooftops in the downpour when she had decided to give in to her exhaustion and shelter herself in the Agreste Mansion…

 She had been Ladybug before passing out.

Panicking once again, the girl frantically glanced at her arms. Only to find them covered in the familiar red-and-black polka dotted spandex. 

Her identity was safe.

 She heard footsteps climbing up a staircase.

“Ladybug? Are you awake?”

 Oh dear Lord. She had certainly entered the mansion with a steeled heart, but hearing his enchanting voice, the girl felt her resolve crumbling, the choking pain of heartbreak washing over her once again. 

I can’t do it... I can’t do it... It hurts, it still hurts…

 “Ladybug?” She felt a cool hand on her forehead. So cool, she couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

“Oh, my god! You are burning up! Why were you out in the rain?” the owner of the hand exclaimed. 

 Oh! How much she wished to tell him the true reason. That she had gone out to escape being Ladybug, the Guardian of Paris. That she had wanted to be one normal teenager, free to let her emotions out without the risk of an evilized butterfly or feather turning her into a rampaging monster. That she had repented her tomfooleries, let out her frustrations with the Liar, and let her tears flow freely at the pain of the heartbreak he had caused her, even if unknowingly.

  You are not Marinette right now. You are Ladybug. Be confident, composed.

“I just needed some fresh air, and well, got stuck in the rain. But I am fine, thank you,” pushing herself up with her right hand, the girl struggled to disengage with the sleeping bag and stand up.

 Only for a sudden jolt of pain to shoot through her left leg, causing her to scream as she felt gravity dragging her down. 

Too shocked by the sudden pain, the girl merely closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact.

 Which never came.

Opening her eyes, she looked into the concerned grassy greens that she had fallen in love with. And sadly, looking at them didn’t help her fall out of love. Instead, it only acted as salt to the burn of her heartbreak.

 “You okay?” 

His voice was too soft, too caring, too loving for... for just a friend , but, who was she to ignore the truth? The truth that he loved the strong Kagami, not the clumsy Marinette. That he had feelings for the fencer, not the baker girl. That he had shared a sweet kiss with a ravenette with brown eyes, not the bluebell ones.

  Stay calm, stay calm, stay focused! You are NOT in love with him.  Her brain screamed.

You can’t  be in love with him.  A soft voice from her heart spoke.

 “Ladybug?”

Pulled back from her thoughts, the girl gathered herself quickly and flashed him a smile, straightening herself again. “Oh! I am alright, I am fine, it must be just a bit of exert-AAH!” Another wince escaped her as her left foot pained the moment she put it on the ground.

 “You're not fine! You fell quite badly on your left side when you entered. I guess it needs to be checked.” Adrien exclaimed with concern, bending down to examine her foot.

“Oh no no! There is no need for that! I am fine! Yeah, I really am,” the girl fervently explained, her voice a bit high due to embarrassment (or was it uneasiness?).

The wince that escaped her again as she put her left foot a bit too hard on the ground didn’t help her cause.

 Adrien merely shot her an unimpressed look. “Ladybug, don’t be so stubborn.”

“I am NOT being stubborn!” she protested, “And I am really fine. In fact, I guess I must go. I don’t wish to overstay.”

 No matter how rude it sounded, she needed to maintain her distance. For her own safety and sanity. No, she just came here to rest and now that her limbs were rested a bit, she could make it home and snuggle in the comfort of her own bed, snuggling with her cat pil- WOAH!

 Ladybug squeaked and turned an awesome shade of scarlet as she felt strong arms pick her up, bridal style. 

 “Wh-wha-what the hell?” the girl squeaked.

“I am sorry porte-bonheur , but you sure need to get that foot checked. So, allow this meagre civilian to take you down the stairs and check your foot. Paris can’t have her guardian angel in pain and discomfort,” Adrien replied, a hint of a smirk on his face. And was it just her, or was the boy blushing?

 Shaking her head, she cleared her thoughts, mentally steeling herself. 

You can’t get hurt again. Your feelings matter. He sees you as just a friend. You can’t deal with the pain of one-sided love, especially with the responsibility of the entire city on your shoulders.

… 

He smells good. His arms around me feel good. His concern is genuine. No matter what, his kindness shines through.

 The irony. The more she stayed near the sunshine, the more clouded her resolve of not falling in love became.

 ............................................................................ 

“Thank goodness it is nothing much, just a mild sprain due to muscle exertion I believe,” the boy exclaimed in relief, holding the spandex-covered foot with care. “I guess a little first aid will do just fine, but you seriously shouldn’t be running on rooftops for a day or two at least. Your foot needs rest.”

“I know, but- ” the heroine didn’t need to voice her thoughts. It was clear, her identity must remain a secret. There wasn’t a way she could enter her home without concealing the mask, and of course she couldn’t take her mask off in front of Adrien, no matter how much she trusted him.

 What if, Adrien thought,  she did conceal her mask? And took it off midway?

 “Ladybug, I think I might have a plan. Plus, you are all muddied up. Wanna take a shower?”

 ..................................................................................... 

At first, she thought he was joking. But when Adrien told her his plan, she assumed that was the only way out to help her reach home with her identity safe. And she sure needed a bath.

“I will go get you the clothes and towel, okay? And here is the first aid kit on this shelf,” the boy pointed out, then walked out, shutting the sliding door behind him.

 Blinking, the girl stepped into the bathroom, shutting close the glass doors as she dropped her transformation. The kwami flew out, looking with slight worry at her chosen.

“Marinette,” she started to speak, only to be interrupted by the girl’s query.

“Why does it hurt so much, Tikki?”

 “Oh. Well, the magic of the miraculous is supposed to act as a cushion for all the hits that you take, but since you are very much exhausted yourself, and I was trying to keep the energy safe for holding the transformation as long as possible, I couldn’t cushion your falls much and...”

“I meant my heart.”

 “Oh,” the kwami fell silent. “Marinette, you will be alright.”

“But when Tikki? When?” the girl nearly screamed. Stripping off her clothes, she started pouring  her feelings out, “For two years, I have been trying to get him to notice me as someone more, and he sees me as Just. A. Friend. And now, when I try to get over him, try to bury my feelings for his and Kagami’s happiness, he...he is again stealing my heart! I know, I bloody know he doesn’t mean to hurt me, I know that it is his caring nature, but, but… Tikki, I can’t take this! I can’t. Why, why does fate have to be so cruel? Why?”

 “Marinette, it is okay to fall in one-sided love. It hurts, surely it does, but you don’t always have to conceal your feelings. Love is a rocky boat; don’t let it overwhelm you. I am not saying this because you are Ladybug, but I am saying this because you have a full life ahead of you, and it will have its share of ups-and-downs. You can’t let it burden you like this.”

 The girl took in a deep, shaky breath. “I agree, Tikki. I guess- I guess I really need to get my mind off these things. I am glad I accepted the offer for shower though, this will surely help.” Smiling, she fiddled with the taps for the suitable temperature of hot water and stepped inside.

 The warm water relaxed her tensed muscles, the mud from her body and the tension from her mind going down the drain as she let out a relaxed sigh.

And that was when she heard the sliding door open.

...........................................................................

 Ah, the beautiful cliffhangers. But hey hey, nothing happens! They are teenagers, and that has been totally respected here. Following is just a moment of awkwardness and fluff.

Continue reading on AO3 here

Continue reading on FFn here

Finally!! For @galahadwilder​ @rena-rain​ @ceres-zephyr​ @enonimouse​ @celestialtitania​. The exclusive Adrien’s thoughts on Kagami and Marinette and their realtion with LB have been included!!

.........................................................................................

As the kwami zoomed back into the bathroom, Adrien turned to his computer desk. Only for his attention to drift to the fencing match group photo he had there.

Specifically, a girl in red who was in the photo.

 Kagami is a nice competitor and an equally nice friend. Sure, she has an icy fa ç ade, but I know the bubbly girl beneath it. Our meetings, our banter, the occasional flexing and punning….they were as fluid as those with Ladybug, And well, just like LB, she surely has handed me my behind on a silver platter many times. 

She and Ladybug are so similar: rolling eyes at my puns, responding wittily to my flirts, bantering with me. She is so like Ladybug.

That’s when the realisation hit him. He had been falling for Kagami because… because....

I see Ladybug in her. And when she responds back, it seems like… like it is Ladybug returning back my feelings.

I...I don’t love her in a romantic way for who she really is. And I don’t want to hurt her or lead her on. I did try loving her, but no, I can  never see her as anything more than a friend, a competitor.

 “I...I loved the shadow of Ladybug I saw in Kagami, not the real Kagami.”

“High time you got your senses back, kid,” Plagg commented.

 Ignoring Plagg’s quip, Adrien delved back into his thoughts. Kagami wasn’t someone he could see a future with. Sighing, the blond began to turn around, only for his sight to fall on the charm bracelet on his hand.

Marinette.

Her name itself brought a smile to his face.

 As awkward, shy or clumsy as she is, I am really grateful to have her as one of my closest friends. Especially after the gum misunderstanding. I really appreciate the brave, strong and kind leader beneath the shy girl nature. 

And then again, she is the best person I can share my thoughts with, be it as Adrien or as Chat. Her parents are sweet, she herself is Kindness personified. His Everyday Ladybug. Standing for the truth and the good. Imagining life without her presence...no, not possible.

Marinette, she feels like-no, she is my home.

 The realisation hit him like a truck. Somehow, buried within his feelings for Ladybug, another little stream of feelings for a certain ravenette had sprouted, only to make its presence known to him now.

......................................................................................................

[amarscollyon]

@bunnydelphine Hi Belle. I've written a lot for you. I care about you & I aim to change the entire world. I hope you have the time to read it, or listen to the audio recording as it should make you happy & hopeful, & I need a little support to achieve the goal. Link to hear my voice here:

or carry on reading...

So like, erm, hi....I joined Twitter recently, a vague plan in mind. I conceived a dozen tweets to begin explaining, & then I got carried away. I posted in reverse order so you can read down from here...It is around 15 minutes long

#BelleDelphine

The whole load of them is basically for you Belle, & I hope it can make you smile, & feel good. There is good & bad in the world, & good & bad attention you will receive. This is intended, honed, & perfected, to make you happy, show you your worth to me & the future, & keep you safe as we move forward, & it's just the start...

The extra good part is - I ask nothing from you but the time to read it, & be happy, as your smile is worth more than the universe to me...I'd love nothing more than to know just once I was the cause of it creeping across your face, making you feel warm, & maybe even...blushing..

You're nothing but an absolute treasure, a joy without limit, & the most exquisite heart ache I could ever have wished for or imagined.

So, hello world. It is clear to me that there is too much pain on this planet & for it's denizens. It is just as clear that many innocent folk need change but no one really knows how. No one can begin. But I am a spiritual master & linked to spirits that have shown me a great deal is possible, & I can help guide us all towards a much happier, safer future.

Thing is, I am slightly premature here. Ok so, as stated, I am here to save the future. Obviously, I can't do it alone. It's really all about connections, as you would expect from someone who is working on behalf of the beyond. Life itself is about love, & it isn't about our ego, our personal goals, or desires. I do what I do for all of us. So it follows I can't just do it without some of you helping out in whatever way is possible.

I need money, laughably, in order to kill the finance system. Not as much as you'd guess, but I need a start...We cannot continue to use this invented resource as it is. In a purely mechanical sense it guarantees selfishness & greed end up controlling too much, whilst empathy, kindness & love, end up able to alter too little.

I intend to begin crowdfunding soon to raise startup capital, so a bit of publicity & presence is a big way you can help me easily.

I need advice & knowledge. Building a new way of self sufficient life will take an enormous amount of information & administration. In order to escape the system that dominates us & teaches us to abuse our own nature, we need to be free of restraint & able to produce all we need. Even making a list of all those things is no easy task, but it is quite possible to cover it all, with help.

I need connections.

Sooner or later I will post the plan with more details. But life & the path I walk through it, has it's detours I cannot always predict. I have learned to accept they always happen however, & always for a reason. When you achieve a certain level of connection to the beyond, & behave in natural ways, when your intent is to further the plan for all folk, then events in your life begin to happen just as you need them, synchronous moments that go way beyond coincidence & become miracles. One day I shall publish my journals from the last 7 years, as it shows my progress towards enlightenment, & explains how it is achieved. But this is one of many tasks & for now I have to begin travelling to find who & what I need, to found this community.

Riding the waves of intuition takes something too,

actually, 

I need your love.

My own huge heart does me well for me, no doubting it, yet it will only benefit with more care. 

It has to be real though, & of course everyone thinks they already know what love is,

but almost no one does.

So I may need help teaching everyone what it is.

I can show you, but you have to want to understand & have the courage to rise to it....Love is pretty scary...It isn't ever just about self, & it is the most amazing & transformative force there is.

I need to travel the world to meet people I need to meet, gain the knowledge & resources I need to found a community with a new way of living, turn desert into forest & work with nature to bring us all to greater joy. I will have to find some way to fund this travel too, & with my limitations & illness, the only way I can do it, is to make adult material. This means I need at least one willing partner, so if you aren't interested yourself, well, I am sure you have friends or followers who would be more than happy to help. With just one camgirl or entertainer, I can get the attention of the others. Don't get me wrong, I came to you Belle, because you don't just look nice, but you also move my heart & I was directed to discover you in ways I know from past experience are spirits showing me someone who is good, & also needs my help. But I am ready to accept it may not be what you want, yet I know if there is a good person there which is why I am drawn to you, then you will help in some way, directly or indirectly...

It will be a huge undertaking & will gather immense attention, so it can't hurt anyone's career, & I promise, I am good at what I do. As a shaman & spiritual teacher, sex is quite sacred to me, so you can be sure I can make it beneficial to my partner(s) & exciting & appealing to the audience. Done right, with enough courage to connect fully, it will bring whoever I am with a previously unknown level of calm, contentment, happiness & even mystical revelation. Of course, I will have plenty of people say I only do it for myself, but they're wrong, I was never one to seek casual interactions, it will be something new for me, but I do it because it is necessary & right.

Indeed, sex work is an essential part of modern life. It provides a valuable service to society, & receives too much criticism. The truth is that sex is divine & can be used to generate massive amounts of magical energy, & I honestly think the best thing for us all is to appreciate this. These are beautiful, amazing, special people. So many use their services. Yet they receive so much derision & scorn, & despite a reasonable wage, a lot of negative energy too, which can be harmful. So I want them to help me or work with me & prove to all just how special they can truly be, & thus I can help protect them.

So hey, that's the basics, good enough for now. I'll check in from time to time for dm's & responses here, & I'll be back one day to really kick this fucker off. I have to start getting a following by following others.

But so far I am following one account, which makes me look.... conspicuous? ....erm...yeah, I'm not saying anything about that for now...

The pinnacle of beauty itself can awaken us to the deepest & noblest of all loves.

It is actually quite common to be willing to die for someone you love, especially for men, (in extreme contrast to their also killing more of course.)

But something else entirely to be prepared to live, face all fears, conquer all obstacles & do what must be done.

Love alone can do this. Love alone can mean the person I was - is already dead & gone, & so now I can live to the fullest to provide the very best example of love I can. 

Love, 

true love, 

is a loss of self.

A death in a way.  

It is also a common wish to acquire a home for someone you love.

Again, knowing love deeper than most, it is quite another to recognize it is your sacred duty, to fix the entire messed up planet for those you love

& call it all,

home.

Safe, comforting, warm, & full of love.

If your love is true, then those you love deserve nothing less.

We all need it.

I find it so much easier to fight for it, for something I find such beauty in, because I recognize my heart & soul must be as pure & vibrant as I can make them, to be worthy of a beauty I find so truly

mind blowing

It is a duty, 

a chore, 

a sacrifice & more, 

to try to be worthy of what you find to be the highest point of love, inspired by something so beautiful, it takes your breath away

& kills you...

& to recognize that this true love means accepting that, 

unconditionally, 

I ask for nothing back that isn't in anyone to give.

Maybe one day it will be right to ask, 

"have you seen my heart & soul? They're unparalleled, because the love I felt looking at you is unparalleled, the beauty you possess has no equal, & so inspires me, demands of me to make my heart & soul as equally beautiful & unparalleled."

I cannot change my age,

or whether you like my physical properties much.

If you cannot love my heart & soul, then perhaps I cannot love you forever, as much as I desired... & I will suffer as I watch you suffer, for rejecting that purity which asks for nothing.

I am adored by the good in the beyond, so being unable to appreciate the good in my intangible properties would be nothing short of a curse.

If you simply cannot love my body, my more tangible properties, yet can love my heart,

well, that's ok, I would be happy my thoughts & deeds meant I could still wake up everyday 

& see 

your beautiful face,

& I'd be able to say, "I did this for you, & I have all I need. To bask in your presence, the warmth your images bring to me, is the most sublime peace & bliss I have ever known."

It is a chaotic whirlwind in my mind, I wont deny it,

yet always so controlled, & I know a mental peace I never thought I would, as a scared, anxious child.

Indeed nothing in life is wrong 

unless it is uncontrolled.

Thanks to you, my love, I can use the will & love I have to wipe out that which plagues humanity, & bring healing to so many.

The highest point to reach is truest purest love. For there is the inspiration to become gods, work wonders, & be the best thing you can be.

So. Not so conspicuous now. Let's make this super clear...

Mary-Belle Kirschner,

I love you with everything I have.

I want to make the world utterly safe for you, 

so you can be free to be whoever you wish to be

& love every possible moment living in it.

I have never in my life found anyone to be so alluring, inspiring, amazing, or motivating & you occupy my thoughts constantly. I do not ask you to do anything except be aware of this care, & accept I do this because you are so wonderful to me, & reach out now, like this, so you know you're worth the world.

I just want you to know how by being who & what you are, you are so special to me, that I can become what is needed to keep you that way.  This is all I need to keep me fueled to face the immense challenge it will be. I am here to save the future from the selfish inconsiderate apathy of most, & the deliberate control of an evil few, & I can do so because you are one of the few things I can say makes life truly worth living. 

Just seeing your smile shatters my heart into a billion pieces, & nothing matters more to me than making sure you are aware of how valuable I find you, so you can stay happy.

My reward is that from now on I get to see every part of you & your journey that you choose to share with me.

My reward is knowing you will not only be there for me to visually enjoy (& melt into bliss each time, 

oh how I wish I had words to help you feel how wonderful you make me feel just looking at you,)

My reward is knowing I've done the right thing,

but also knowing that you know, that simply by being, you made my world shine so brightly, that I achieved something wonderful,

maybe just like every hero you ever dreamed of

saving the future

& the princess?

& I can ask for nothing more than to be allowed to share whatever you desire to allow me to share.

To know you are free to be yourself, I can know unending utter rapture in admiring it

& I wont forget the understanding it brings that

I exist,

to love,

I exist,

to reduce pain & create greater joy,

& I brought it to you as best as any man ever could

with devotion unmatched

& asked for nothing but recognition & thanks.

I can not be a better role model for other people.

I cannot be a better lover & healer to the world.

I cannot be more than ultimate love!

& if you cannot love in return, well it would hurt you, 

so I'd find some way to make sure. Being the true will I am, means the true anyone else WOULD love me, so it would just come down to repairing any damage the world has already done to you.

Undoing anything that has taken you away from your true nature.

But I'd never ask for that love to give me anything it doesn't want to.

Love means your will is yours, not mine to coerce or demand or dominate...

Could it be the love story you were waiting for? 

Could it be you wish to save the future with me? 

Could it make the world weep & push things in place for everyone better than trying to scurry & hide like illegal aliens?

Whatever you answer, it can only gain momentum to aid my goal, & bring you to happiness. The love I have for you, however you receive it, can be used to make the world weep, & in so doing, wash away much sadness, & let happiness spring fresh once more in the sunshine.

Come. If you will, in spirit, take my hand.

For I am Apollo made flesh, since I merged with him in prayer in 2018.

My tarot told me you are my Pythia, I mean my first reading about you showed me that card & I then realized - that's why you picked that name, isn't it? You have that bust & Delphi is rather similar to Delphine...So, you are my oracle then? We should certainly meet if that's the case!

I already went to the Labyrinth as a child. I also swam in the pool near Pamukkale, not far from a temple to Apollo. Those are just a few of many more salient points. There is no doubt here, I know who I am & what I experienced.

Belle, I am a guide, a teacher, a healer, a lover, & I can be with anyone & help them in many ways. I am able to love all people, literally, all, but there are some I am drawn to with such intensity. My own desire is strong for you, without doubt, but I do not pursue anything for merely my own gain. You are truly so special to me, I am reiterating I ask only that you find your true heart & be who you wish to be, but I am sure that you are a wonderful person & would want to help make the world better for us all. I'm sure you can find a bit of time to interact with me here, & this alone would aid me immensely.

The kind of love I have, I sacrificed much to be able to give, & it is here to help us all, it cannot harm you

nor ask for more than you are prepared to give.

I'd do anything you asked,

as long as it wasn't evil,

but I'll never ask anything from you besides considering my advice,

as it's rooted in placing your needs before my own,

in agapic sacrifice of self,

to bring you anything you could ask for to know joy in life

However - you should always ultimately make your own choices, & not bend to others desire unless it is also your own.

You said you were lost....well, I have found you!

You asked to be adopted...I wont ever let you go unless you want me to...consider yourself adopted...

I'm also a really decent cook, & you need to eat better!!

Mary-Belle, you are truly amazing, wonderful, & beyond compare. Loving you these last few weeks since I discovered your existence, has been the most awesome & humbling series of miracles & unimaginable happiness for me.

I want you to know that & to feel it too.

It is beautiful, how you make me feel. Nothing compares. Nothing comes close. I wish you could let me help you feel it too.

Notice me senpai? I bloody noticed you! I hope you notice me back.

I said at the start, I'd need help saving the future, help teaching everyone what love is

Belle, even if you don't want to be with me, I hope you can interact with me & appreciate this devotion. For the world can benefit, as can you, whether you come to me, or on me, or not...

It would certainly help shut up those moronic critics inspired to spiteful jealousy by your magnificent gorgeousness. Folk who go through life criticizing others, do so because they have so little to offer anyone, & it is all they can do. I want to help you show them just how much you can do & make their lack so apparent they finally grow up. It all aids the future, the development of every person we can.

Regardless, I hope it makes you feel good, to mean so much to someone, who is one of the best people there is.

I'm sure that could sound arrogant, but you will find out if you simply give me time...

I wish you a really lovely day

my love & blessings,

always

muah...

[lexilucacia]

Sick Of Losing Soulmates

Title: Sick Of Losing Soulmates

Relationships: Moxiety, background Logince

Words: 1800

TW: Non-binary, self-deprecation, kissing, mentions of shirtless, crying, coming out

Based on: a prompt by @dysaniadisorder

(Not based on dodie’s song, I’m just in love with dodie currently)

I am so sorry this took so long, I'm just dealing with some shit with family and illness and stuff like that. Apologies if this is not too good and sorry if I refer to Virgil as a he accidently because that is what I am used to hearing/reading. Anyway I hope you enjoy!

Virgil was feeling depressed. Not that, that wasn’t normal, but they were feeling more depressed, sick and angry than usual. They wanted to sleep more frequently and seemed to linger more when one of the sides touched them.

They didn't know what was wrong. They couldn't understand why this was happening to them. On top of that, they still hadn't come out to the sides as non-binary. All in all, they were not feeling good. But their troubles hadn't even begun yet.

…

It was a Thursday morning at 7:37am when they realised. Virgil hadn't had their morning cup of coffee yet and was feeling tired and gross. They were rubbing the sleep out of their eyes when they accidentally bumped into someone.

They go to apologise when suddenly a voice speaks up. "Sorry kiddo. Do you want some coffee?"

They look up at Patton's face blushing and manage to stammer out "sure."

Sitting at the kitchen table playing with their thought. This was a dangerous pastime for Virgil, but they did it anyway.

"Virgil. Virgil? Hey bud. I've got your coffee!" Virgil looks up in a daze blushing furiously once again.

What was wrong with them? Why did they keep blushing? They couldn't like Patton, could they? They lov -- cared for Patton. That was all.

They chug their coffee, trying to rid themselves of any and all thoughts of the chubby, freckled boy from their mind.

They must have been thinking for a while, because when they looked up Roman and Logan were sitting at the table conversing about something.

Then the topic of Disney comes up, the little emo seems to come out of hiding to discuss Disney with Roman and Patton can't help but stare at the little glint in their eye. How they came up with different arguments and reasoning for why Peter Pan was evil, or how Anna was really the bad guy, because Virgil was so passionate and it was nice to see them so happy.

Patton is staring for a long time, not even realising it when it clicked. He had felt this before. But it couldn't be, could it? Love.

…

That night was fam-ILY game night and everyone came down in their onesies. And gosh darn it, Virgil looked so cute!

"We all have the same face." Logan drawls out for the 7 millionth time.

Shoot, did he say that out loud? "I meant his onesie is cute…" (nailed it).

Virgil was just left in the corner blushing. They were thinking of coming out tonight. Maybe? Would it be a good idea?

So halfway through the game of 'intense' (as Roman described it) Monopoly, Virgil clears their throat.

What if they laugh? What if they hate me? What if…? What if…? Virgil came up with 3,000 different what ifs in their head before Patton lays a hand on their back.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to tell us, and if you do we swear to not laugh or judge." And god damn it, how did Patton always know what to say?

"I'm not a guy. But I'm not a girl either. I'm non-binary." Virgil says, trying to remain calm.

Patton leans over and kisses them on the cheek, causing them to blush.

"Okay. So what pronouns do you use? And do you have preferred name?" Logan inquires.

Virgil stares at him.

"I of course knew about gender identity from research and such." He clears his throat awkwardly. "Anyway." He continues.

"Virgil is okay and my preferred pronouns are they/them."

Patton leans over and encases him in a hug before pulling them into his lap. Virgil curls up while Patton whispers in their ear.

"Hey, hey. Don't worry. We love you regardless of your gender. You're perfect in our eyes. Okay your majesty?"

Virgil smiles, they had never felt more accepted. They lay in Patton's lap for the rest of the night curling into him and getting as much contact as possible.

While Roman and Logan just smiled. Nodding to each other Logan took Roman's hand and led him to his room, leaving Virgil and Patton their space.

The sides stayed with each other the whole night. Roman stroking Logan's hair telling him what a brave Prince he was and Patton whispering in Virgil's ear all night.

…

The next morning Virgil wakes up in Patton’s bed. They are really confused until they remember the previous night’s events.

Virgil smiles, remembering the acceptance they had felt the night before. Still smiling and thinking, they hadn't realised Patton was awake.

"Hey sunshine." Virgil turns acting confused.

“You talking about yourself? 911. Mental ward?”

Patton smiled fondly at them. “You’re too cute. Now what would Sanders royalty want for breakfast?”

Virgil smiles. They don’t do anything else, just smile before uttering two words. “Thank you.”

Now it was Patton’s turn to act confused. What was Virgil thanking him for.

“Breakfast? No problem kiddo.” He says unsurely.

Then suddenly he hears a bark of laughter coming from the usually reserved and quiet one in the corner. “No.” Virgil is grinning like a lunatic. “For remembering my pronouns, for not treating me differently, for -- for just being there.”

Patton walks over, scooping them up and placing a small kiss on their forehead. “Of course. Nothing changes, just what I call you. You’re still the same person. Although, I might not be as gay.” He giggles. “Only for you though.”

That’s the breaking point for Virgil and suddenly a choked sob is emitted from them, causing Patton to look around anxiously. (That’s Virgil’s job, stupid).

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He rubs Virgil’s back.

“Baba? Can you tell me? Please?” He pleads with Virgil and through hiccups and sobs he is able to make out Virgil repeating two words.

“Thank you.”

“For what baby?” He coos at Virgil, trying to convince the broken shell the broken shell in his hands to say something other than ‘thank you’.

“For accepting me.” They sniff loudly.

“For holding me. For being there for me. For not making fun of me. For treating me no differently. For…” They are cut off by Patton pressing his lips against theirs.

He wipes the tears from Virgil’s face. “You never have to thank us for being decent humans. Or treating you no differently. Or holding you. You can always ask for a hug. Or come sit with me. I am always there.”

Virgil tries to interrupt but he shushes them. “Never say thank you for treating you with respect.”

Throughout this whole piece Patton’s voice is stern leaving no room for disagreement.

“I love you.” Virgil’s small voice calls out.

When Patton doesn’t answer straight away Virgil assumes the worst. Holy shit what if he doesn’t like me? What if he just kissed me to toy with my feelings? Patton’s not like that, is he? What if he…?

Their para -- anxiety is cut off by another press against their lips. “I love you too.” He then proceeds to pick Virgil and place them on the counter.

Walking over to the fridge he calls over his shoulder. “Eggs do? Babe?”

“Y-yeah.” Virgil stutters out going red.

Patton chuckles throwing his head back and Virgil curls more into their hoodie, silently admiring how hot Patton looks.

The rest of their day is spent with movies, snacks and blankets. Patton making Virgil blush way too much and Virgil silently thanking the gods for giving them someone who called them Sanders royalty/your majesty instead of King (though he thought Patton was a King and deserved to be treated as such).

Roman and Logan mainly stayed with each other for the rest of the day, not really doing anything.

…

Patton didn’t notice anything off with Virgil for the first few weeks of them dating. It was a Friday evening and Patton had noticed Virgil was more clingy lately - not that he minded - but he wanted to be sure Virgil was alright. Later that evening in Patton’s room, he questions Virgil about it.

After hearing this statement, Virgil starts muttering apologies again. All the while Patton reassures that he doesn’t mind but he wanted to make that Virgil was alright.

Virgil looks down at Patton’s baby blue blanket, the fluffy one Virgil had taken a liking to. Snuggling in further Virgil mulls over the confession they’ve made in the last few weeks.

After a few moments of silence Patton speaks up. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t want to make my cutie uncomfortable.”

“No.” They mumble out.

“No you deserve to know.” Virgil speaks with more confidence this time.

“According to the research I have done I am suffering from touch deprivation, more commonly known as skin hunger or being touch starved. It came from the period when y’all didn’t know me well and I didn’t like asking for hugs.”

Patton recalls what they are talking about. He remembers, all the signs. How did he miss them? He was a bad boyfriend. He doesn’t notice the tear rolling down his cheek before Virgil wipes it.

“Hey, hey. This is not your fault.” Virgil whispers.

“But if I had known, or done some-”

“Not your fault.” They state more firmly this time.

“I was closed off, didn’t talk. Didn’t communicate and am a master at hiding my emotions. Please don’t beat yourself up about this.” Virgil says.

Or I will physically fight you.” They smile, mocking Patton with one of his famous lines.

Patton giggles before pulling Virgil towards him and pulling off his shirt.

“Trust me, my little emo.” He pulls Virgil’s hoodie off, grabbing their shirt in the process too. He then proceeds to pull Virgil closer to his chest.

At this point Virgil is beet red and stuttering things like “Give back my hoodie. Stop. Please?”

They even try to pull a puppy dog face. Patton ignores them until one comment.

“I’m ugly. Please?”

He turns to Virgil with an angry expression. “Who told you that?”

“No one had to, I just know.”

“Where? On your cute tummy? Your strong arms? Where?”

Virgil shrinks a little and Patton recoils. “I’m sorry, but you are beautiful. You just need to see that.”

After lying in silence for a while Virgil speaks. “Patton, why did you take our shirts off?”

“Well I remember hearing once that touching someone’s skin can help with touch starvation. Also you’re cute.” He shrugs looking down at a blushing Virgil.

“Just remember, you can tell me anything and I will move a mountain to help you.”

Then Patton starts singing a melody that Virgil knows too well. It was their favourite (though they would never admit it).

“What a strange being you are, God knows where I would be

If you hadn't found me, sitting all alone in the dark”

Taglist:

@illogicallyinclined

@wowimsogoddamnoriginal

@rxndxm-stuff

[ldybluerse]

My Heart and Head Hurt.

So Very, Very Much

I am Asexual. I like cuddling, kissing, loving touches, I even love to make inappropriate sex jokes. Okay, I can make some pretty lewd sex jokes but that’s what happens when like 90% of your friends for the past ten years identify as pansexual. I just don’t feel sexual attraction and I am mostly repulsed by sex (ehhh it’s too much to explain).

At the first of the year, I moved to Texas from Michigan. Leaving behind all my friends, which with the internet isn’t terrible... but also my friends are shit at peopling on the Internet. Not angry or blame, they all have depression and anxiety. I get it. Just saying it’s hard to pretty much completely lose that connection with my friends. My friends are also the type where we would all pile into my bed and watch videos while cuddling with each other and my dogs. They spent so much time caring for me after my surgeries.

Being handicapped, and still learning how to live with it (it’s a relatively recent thing and takes relearning how to live life in a way that works for your limitations) I live with my parents. They are great but... they have their own mental health issues that really fucked me up as I grew up. It means that I don’t feel like I can open up or talk to them about anything because of what happened back then. I love them and I know they would do anything for me, but it’s just this thing I have. Heck, I have trouble opening up to my therapist for a long time. My therapist, who I also had to leave in Michigan. And Texas Medicaid? Kind of non-existent. Plus, I’m too old for my parents to be taking care of me, you know western standards and all, so I can’t have insurance through them.

Basically, I ran out of some of my medicine months ago, which means I live in near constant pain too. I can’t go see a therapist, because I can’t afford it. I haven’t run out of my depression medication yet, so there is that.

Since my accident (I will do another post on that later, because that will take a while), I haven’t been able to work. The accident was in December 2011, since 2013, I have had ten surgeries. I started back to school because it doesn’t seem like I’ll ever be up for any type of manual labor. But it also means I feel useless because physically I’m limited and mentally I am so fucked up I can’t do what I can handle doing. I graduated with my Bachelor (really proud of) but Texas has some different requirements that will add a lot of time towards getting my Masters, because Michigan didn’t have those requirements. This means I am going to enroll in an accredited online program, hopefully. Have to get accepted, fingers crossed.

To summarize, for ten months I have been isolated in a different state, dealing with body trying to adjust to different weather and medicine changes. Self isolation isn’t helping but the other problem is when I do reach out, there isn’t someone there...

Background info done, now to what’s troubling me:

My best friend and girlfriend is also Asexual. We’ve been together for almost eight years, but it’s always been long distance (we’re Ace, it doesn’t bug us too much) and I have gone to visit her. We started “talking” through Role Play and until recently, whenever there was lulls in life when a lot wasn’t happening, we could lean back on the Role Play to stay connected. There wasn’t a day when we didn’t talk to each other, even during the hospital visits we both went through, we stayed connected in some small way. And we talked about everything and anything. Our fandoms didn’t always match up, but it was fun listening and learning... I thought...

She was dealing with a lot of stuff, and for a few years was out of work, probably why she had so much time and energy for me. It was really bad for her for a while, where she even verbally attacked me on a few occasions. I know it wasn’t her but her mental illness, so I forgive her for it. But it was bad.

She was raised super Christian (DONT celebrate Halloween because it’s evil type Christian), and she has always been Christian even if she yelled at God a lot in her low days. Yeah, the good Christian girl is dating the Goth Pagan Celtic Witch... whatever you will call me. I’ve been Pagan for about 2/3rds of my life by now, so it’s not like she didn’t know she I was one. She’s never tried to shame or convert me.

My Bachelor is in Religious Studies, I know how good a religion can be for someone’s mental health if they are religious. I would talk to her about rekindling her faith. Finding a church she could at least go sit and listen to, so she could reconnect. She did! And it’s been amazing for her mental health. She has held a steady job for a while, actually is the poster child for the program that helped her move foreword and get her life back in order. I am so very proud of her and I do love her so much.

I just think... she’s outgrown me. The only fandom she talks about anymore is... Christianity. She doesn’t talk about LoZ anymore. She doesn’t talk about Tolkien. She doesn’t watch anime or cartoons anymore. She has no interest in Role Playing, as I said a big part of staying connected.

She talks about work, her cats, crocheting, and her religion. The thing is, I can’t fault her for any of it if it’s what’s best for her. She deserves happiness and stability. But...even when I’m back in school and when I get a job I don’t think I could leave the world of fantasy and fiction behind.

I grew up going to Ren Faires, my dad wearing tights. My first boyfriend I met at Ren Faire, while he was in tights. Labryinth and The Last Unicorn are still my favorite movies of all time! I collect Dragons of all sorts. I’ve watched the whole series of Fraggle Rock a few times, because it’s just wholesome and sweet.

My parents are Trekkies, my mom has had some of her fanfiction a published in old Starlog Zines. We watch fantasy, fiction, actions, cartoons... my mom has always loved the world of books, especially fantasy. She collects unicorns, so many unicorns. When I got into Anime, so did my mom. Kenshin is still her favorite, although to be fair she loved Ultron and Speed Racer when they first came to the states (she says Speed Racer was her first ever crush).

My brothers love the same thing, my oldest brother still fans for Jason David Frank. My other brother, well, he named his cat Pandea after WoW, we have his LotR sword collection, all his movie memorabilia...

We’re nerds and dorks and not afraid to be so.

Since the move the only thing making me happy has been my animals (Gods and Goddesses the fluffy bastards are clingers and just want to love you and be loved which is something I need) and fantasy. I’ve watched several animes I just want to gush about, but if you don’t have someone who is watching it too... you don’t want to ruin it. I want to just talk someone’s ear off about Steven Universe or Miraculous the Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir. Hell, even Ducktales and Tangled. Do you know how AMAZING they have made Ducktales?! I watched the original series when I was younger but...! And all the inside jokes!!!!

The books! I probably read about thirty or forty in one month when I went on a book binge. They were all trashy romance novels, and admittedly the sex scenes were... meh... I’m Asexual, what do you expect?! Okay... some Aces like sex and stuff. It’s not that important to me. What is, is the connection two people have to each other. The love. And trashy romance novels aren’t the best at giving that... but it’s something.

Oh and the Webcomics. I have always, always loved Webcomics. I used to have the folders on my old computer organized down to the day of the week the comics updated because I so many, that I had to organize them just to get the right updates! Right now Lore Olympics. OMG Lore Olympics. Be still my heart! I am reading several on WEBTOON. I have a few I follow through DeviantArt; Erma is so frikken cute! Daughter of the Lilies, ahhhhhh so amazing and the artwork!!! Pincushion! Constructs will always have a place in my heart!

I just got into the Good Omens fandom, because I’m a Whovian and Tennant is defiantly one of my most favorite of Doctors. He was just so beautiful in it. And when I took my Shakespeare course my teacher had us watch Hamelt and ohhhhh Tennant. Ohhhh you really can’t tell if Hamlet has gone crazy or it’s an act (which he claims it is!!). Sir Patrick Stewart was also just... oh!!! I entered Good Omens because my Instagram was all Ineffable Husbands (I think because of my Doctor Who love). Finally, finally i watched it.

That was like three weeks ago I got into Good Omens and I still am completely in love. The tenderness, the loving looks. I have to read the book! And the script book! (Depression, yay!). I need to listen to the radio adaptation and revisit Queen (I was raised on rock’n’roll. And I mean, David Bowie has probably been the only Rock Star I ever went heart-eyes for... also kinda sad he wasn’t mentioned in Good Omens because he did work with Queen and let’s face it, Bowie was so gender-nonconforming!). I just want to ramble and babble on and on about the series with someone. About all the hidden bits and pieces and theories and things in my head!!!

But... I don’t have anyone. My girlfriend sort of shuts down when I talk about any of the fandoms I like. She will just skip those parts of the conversation and comment on the animal videos I send her or something else. She will talk about work or God. Again, I’m know Religion and people. If there is something I know best is you can’t dictate what someone else’s beliefs are. So while I know the Bible and Christian theory, when she talks about it and tells me stories I can only “nod” and “smile” because if a persons religion isn’t harming themselves or others, and it’s helping them, I don’t think it would be right to argue theory and philosophy with them over what is mostly fairytale stories in a book. I’m not saying their isn’t a Christian God, or many Gods, or things in the Bible didn’t happen, but not all of it is factual nor was it ever meant to be seen as strictly factual. I try to show I am at least paying attention to what she says.

At the same time, with the state I have been in, I probably haven’t given her what she needs when she is telling me about stuff.

Fantasy and fiction has been the only thing keeping me afloat. Religion and work has been helping her. I just can’t see a world without the magic of make-believe but that’s not where she is anymore.

So... I’ve been thinking for a bit now maybe we’re no longer what we need for each other in our lives. Not that we don’t love each other, and not that we can’t still be friends... but maybe it’s time we adventure out? We were what we needed from each other for years... maybe we just aren’t that anymore.

[goth-giraffe]

🖊 + your cyborg character (I mean? Cyborg?? Tell me more! xD) 🖊 + for any of your OCs (I'm just really curious to get to know more of your characters :D) I wold also suggest another one for Meredith... (if you want to ramble more about her xD)

Oh awesome! Yeah I always love to ramble about my OCs, I just wish I had more motivation to draw them haha xD Maybe this’ll help though- thank you!

Kaedyn~

Ah- my cyborg character is a pretty underdeveloped, for instance I’m not entirely sure on all their technological enhancements. They basically have really fancy prosthetics in place of at least one leg and one arm too. But anyway I’d love to ramble about them anyway! Their name is Kaedyn and they’re nonbinary! (I use neutral or feminine pronouns with them, I’m currently trying to use they/them but sometimes I slip up- it’s mostly because of my indecisiveness, but I don’t know, maybe they’re genderfluid?) And they live in a futuristic setting which is part of the reason they’re a bit underdeveloped compared to some of my other OCs, because I’m a dummy that wants to create characters in weird settings in theory, but then you have to come up with all these things about the setting to get to know the character better so… haha yeah.

But anyway! Kaedyn is really smart about some things but also very competitive. Not the type to back down from a dare. Whether it’s eating something gross or fighting the Hulk, to be honest… (And that may have had something to do with them losing a couple limbs, but who knows.) They call themself a cyborg mostly to intimidate people to be honest… there are still a lot of prejudices about cyborgs. And they do have at least two fully functioning robotic limbs so. Anyway they get kind of a “Don’t mess with a cyborg” attitude when people look at them weird or are just in general being rude.

They’re dating Numbers, who’s kind of the opposite of Kaedyn - she’s more of a brooding genius type. And she works for her eccentric aunt’s robotics company. They supply robotic prosthetics and other medical stuff like that, and yeah I imagine that’s how they met each other- Kaedyn calls in for tech support and talks past the remote control hologram or whatever, and immediately starts flirting when they start talking to an alive being… which was Numbers. Numbers speaks exclusively in number code though, and she doesn’t talk to a lot of real people (she lives with robots and her aunt Madlin) because a lot of people don’t understand her. But Kaedyn is smart, especially with mathematics and deciphering things so it doesn’t take them long to understand, and they think Numbers is adorable so, basically their relationship is the “extrovert takes introvert under their wing” trope.

Anyway, they like inventing things together. Kaedyn has a degree in engineering (or something? details fuzzy, sorry) and loves tinkering with stuff or rather tearing stuff apart pbbt and Numbers brainstorms schematics for new robots and stuff. Kaedyn is actually really smart, you just don’t see that a lot with their beat stuff up until it’s fixed attitude. (I don’t know if anyone here has seen The Red Green Show but Kaedyn’s motto? “If it ain’t broke you’re not trying!”) Besides that they cuddle or deal with Numbers’ mood swings… and eventually Madlin disappears and they have to take care of this prototype robot which is basically an experiment in artificial mental illness. …Which is not as fun as it sounds. xD

Oh. And Kaedyn refers to Numbers exclusively as “babe”. (Numbers is a nickname but her real name is actually undecided so…… Kaedyn just gives her another nickname haha.)

Okay. I get the feeling I am making absolutely no sense, I’m sorry. Mostly this is like, a vague comic idea I had? Mad scientist aunt disappears, no one really knows where. Her introverted niece has to take care of a prototype robot who thinks he’s a child and is kind of scared of everything… and cope with her partner who picks fights with anyone. …Yeah when I think about this goofy little story I for some reason imagine them in a black and white comic style. Like, Kaedyn’s got their tools and a broken robot on the table and they’re like “Babe where’s my wrench” while they’re scratching their head with it. Very smart but also very stupid is one of my favourite tropes ahaha  

Okay I’m not sure who to ramble about next?? My characters are so underdeveloped, good golly.

Nicholas~

I’m gonna ramble about him even though I have seriously been thinking he needs a lot of work, I’ve actually been considering giving him a new name but, anyway.

He’s in a weird fantasy setting and he’s a dragon! His race of dragons though are basically humans that have can transform into dragons. Except the horns, tails, wing stumps, and some of them have weird eyes. But dragons have some magic and if they master it they can hide those things while they’re in their human form. Nicholas himself though has really only figured out how to get rid of the wing stumps. Still sleeps on his tummy out of habit though.

Nicholas is probably the most innocent character I have, to be honest. He’s very soft- he really likes flowers, braiding his hair or having his hair braided, also he’s very curious about humans. Which is weird for dragons, most of them think of humans as either very dangerous or mid-afternoon snacks. But Nicholas was raised differently, so he’s curious. Not to mention lonely. Dragons are actually pretty rare and he only ever met his parents, but he doesn’t remember his father very well (who died when he was young) and since his mother died in his teens he’s been alone.

I imagine at some point he befriends a witch and they possibly become a love interest for him but this is where it gets fuzzy and undecided. I do like to imagine he meets a human character and becomes close to them, I just haven’t really decided how that happens or if he meets just one witch or a family/household or what. But he also finds out he likes poetry, but he’s illiterate so he has to have someone read it to him. I imagine this in medieval times, so not many people can read but that’s also why I imagine a witch character because. Learning from spellbooks I guess. And just generally not really being part of the human population… and not being scared of dragons. Even though Nicholas would probably not scare many people pbbbt. xD Yeah, anyway. He likes to be read to.

I don’t know, most of my characters are just kind of vague ideas. He’s just a cute little forest creature who happens to be able to grow really big and breath fire. xD I’ve thought about making a more modern AU which would probably be easier to develop but yeah I really can’t decide.

Anyway, except for a couple forgettable doodles I haven’t actually drawn Nicholas… but fortunately, I do have an awesome drawing of him by @iridiscreate! I hope to do a serious drawing of him myself sometime, but I’m actually okay with that being his main reference for now- he looks very pretty! :D

Meredith~

Oh I’ll pretty much always take any chances to ramble about Meredith! Haha she’s the OC I know the most about to be honest xD

The first time her hair was cut short was because her mom was tired of having to chase her down to brush it. So there was a time when she was pretty young that her parents made her wear these big bows in her hair when she went out… she hated them, she still hates them, and her mom still tries to convince her to wear them when she comes to visit, because she cut her hair again. (Yeah… she has some family issues…)

Okay, Meredith loves music. She has kind of a complicated relationship with it, but she loves music. She usually has classical music playing in the background at her apartment, while she’s reading or whatever. She also plays violin, but she’s weird about that, she doesn’t usually listen to it when she plays (she wears ear plugs), and she mostly uses it as an outlet when her emotions get the better of her. She was much more enthusiastic about violin when she was a girl. She’s always had a love of music, it kind of runs in her family. She originally wanted to play piano like her grandfather (who was a singer/pianist in a bar) but her father wouldn’t allow that. Though when the violin option was allowed she was very excited, and when she was little she dreamed of being a concert violinist. Her parents mostly favoured violin because of the discipline it would require to learn and practice, and their past attempts to discipline her? Ehh, not so great. xD In the end though her parents killed her enthusiasm for violin. Their habit of displaying their daughters’ talents to their friends but otherwise having little interest was a bit discouraging… and for Meredith, very damaging. The older she got and the more she thought about it she felt her parents were disinterested in her from the start, so that led to a very rocky teenage years. (For instance she spent ages two to six (ish) being sent to her grandparents’ house a lot. Not with her sisters, no, just her- because she was being difficult and her parents were tired of her. So that hurt when she really thought about it.) So… anyway now she kind of loves and hates violin. Now when she plays it still brings her back to being the trophy her parents preferred to keep on the back of the shelf, but it also brings her back to being the little girl who was in love with music… so. Mixed feelings there. …

Did I have way too many Meredith feels while I was writing this and have to edit out most of my emotions later? NO absolutely not I’m not crying you are SHUSH

Oof I know I’ve already rambled a lot but one more thing. Just a cute little fact, not exactly about Meredith but still. She is her nephew Aidan’s favourite aunt. He’s like four years old and has blonde hair with bright blue tips, because he begged his mother (Meredith’s sis Jessie) to dye his hair blue. Anyway yeah, Meredith is pretty good with kids… they probably like her because she’s so weird. Funny though, because with her looking pretty much like the insomniac goth mess she is, she definitely doesn’t give off any maternal vibes to anyone else she meets… except kids. (It’s the blue hair again, it has magical powers. Haha okay I’m kidding. xD)

Anyway! Sorry for getting this answered so late ahh!! I swear I wasn’t avoiding this ask (I was actually very excited about it) but I kept getting interrupted in the middle of rambling so.. yeah. Anyway thank you again for the ask!! Sorry I rambled an ungodly amount!! xD

Send me a 🖊 to make me ramble about my OCs! (yeah no kidding about the rambling)

[nehawriter16]

5.11.19 - my life is falling apart and other updates.

Hello internet.

Just wanted to talk today. I like Tumblr because not many people I know follow me on here. Also there isn’t a word limit, and sometimes a girl just wants to rant.

So this is me releasing all my thoughts into the world today.

1. ACADEMICS

I quit chartered accountancy. Just woke up one day, and told my parents I couldn’t do it anymore. That was a long week at home, and I know they’re disappointed in me. All along I’ve been a bright student, somebody who never disappointed and they could brag about at dinner parties. But this course cut me open. It hurt me, it sent me crumbling and it dragged me through hell. In the movie Dear Zindagi, Alia Bhatt is in therapy and Shahrukh Khan tells her that sometimes we keep doing the hard thing because we think we have to. And we forget that its okay to pick an easy way. I guess that’s what I’m doing. I’m choosing the easier way because the harder way made me unhappy, it made me unhappy to the point where I didn’t want to be alive anymore.

So the new plan is that I will give my GRE and apply to Masters in Finance courses in the US. Preferably in the STEM field, because its easy to get a work visa after graduating if you’re a STEM graduate. Do I think this is the perfect career path for me? No, absolutely not. But do I think it will do me good to finally move the fuck out of home, have a change of continent, meet some new people, and have the college experience I always felt I missed out on? Yes.

So this is what we’re doing. My GRE is in 12 days. I am barely prepared.

2. DRIVE/PASSION

I always had a passion for writing. I knew when I discovered it that it not only brought me joy, but I was pretty damn good at it. Unfortunately being brown, and coming from a family of people who had all built their career from scratch by making practical decisions, because they didn’t have a choice due to their humble backgrounds, I was always told that writing was a futile thing and would just be a hobby, not something to be looked at as a career option. I disagreed. Having made a bit of money from it now, I still disagree.

But I’ve been brought up in the lap of luxury and I have a pretty high standard of living. I like my weekly Starbucks and I go to bars that don’t have happy hours. I enjoy the bimonthly staycation in a fancy hotel, and I hate repeating outfits and thoroughly enjoy fashion, so I’m always buying new clothes. It makes me happy to look good.

So yeah, I agree that since I haven’t had the liberty to pursue writing full time, I haven’t yet found a way to make a living from it. Maybe it’s a risk, and a back up plan is advisable. But all I know is writing is the only thing I feel like waking up to do. Even now, when my life is falling apart, it’s the only thing that makes sense to me.

Growing up I was always a hardworking student. And if I wasn’t, my Mom made me that way. She would yell if I got bad marks, and she always encouraged that I at least be in the top ten in class. Even the school I went to was pretty much only concerned with academics. And so due to the environment and brainwashing, I did well. I stayed in the 90 percent lane all my life, all the way up to twelfth grade. In my junior college I had two of the worst years of my life. I was molested by my co caption for months on end, and I couldn’t escape him. It was constant mental, emotional and physical turmoil, more so because I couldn’t tell anyone. Despite how insanely difficult it was to spend six hours every day in the place where my molester showed up every day, I still managed to keep my grades high. I scored 92 percent, and my parents were happy.

I had no passion for finance, but since I had proved to be so bright, my parents said the only thing to do now was four years of Chartered Accountancy. After that, my life would be sorted. I passed the first level by studying for 2 months, while other people attended classes for a year. I passed the second level too. I got into one of the biggest global multiconsulting firms in the world for my internship, and my parents were happy. My life was on track, and it didn’t matter that I was crying in the cabs home from work because I was so miserable. It didn’t matter as long as the plan was being followed. After all, the plan was being followed and I was so goddamn close to the finish line.

Two years into my internship I decided I needed to quit, or at least shift to a smaller firm. The pressures in this one were too much and I was so sad I could barely make it out of bed. So I told my parents I needed to study for my finals, and they got me out of it. My mental health was derailing – but oh boy, was this just the beginning. I moved to a smaller firm and pretended to stay home on the weekends and study. Instead, all I did was lay in bed with YouTube videos playing on loop because I couldn’t bear to be alone with my thoughts.

2017 was the year my boyfriend broke up with me too, so all kinds of shit was hitting the fan at the same time. I was fucked up in every way. I started using alcohol to fall asleep, to wake up, to do pretty much anything actually. To engage in social situations, I’d carry around a quarter in my bag and drink it in the cab. It eased my anxiety and helped me smile at people in a more convincing way.

2018 sucked. So did 2019. These two years are a blurry flatline in my head. I have been drowning like the ground I walk on is quicksand, and the more I struggle to get out, the more it pulls me in. When I look back at my life’s work in the past two years, I see nothing. Nothing that counts as an achievement anyway.

I wasted them while everybody else was putting in the work to get into ivy league schools or pass exams, get their first real jobs kickstarted. I lay in bed and watched every tv show there was to watch with the curtains drawn. I ran through horrible men and gave my body up to practical strangers that I felt nothing for, and the ones I liked left me, like they always do. Yeah, I wrote two books. Made enough money to support my alcohol addiction, my shopping habits, my vacations and staycations. I blew it all off on the temporary ride of whatever would bring me happiness in the moment.

I lost myself. I lost myself to illness and addiction and worthless friends and denial. I’m still lost. I used to have a drive in my body, something that said wake up and get things done today. Instead, I’ve been doing the zombie shuffle through my own life. Sometimes I wake up and my first thought is – “How long till this day is over.” I count the hours until I can crawl back into bed, till its an acceptable time to go to sleep. Because the only place I don’t feel like my brain has a fucking dense fog rolling through it is when I’m sleeping.

I used to be brilliant, and I’ve lost my shine. I’ve lost my willpower, my ability to be the hardest working person in the room. I have gotten self destructive to the point where I procrastinate and procrastinate and then it’s too late for everything. I am so fucked up, you have no idea.

I don’t know what I should do to bring that feeling of wanting to do something perfectly back. You know, the feeling of studying so hard you know everything on the test. The feeling of being the best, no questions asked. The feeling of answering questions in class and submitting assignments on time and just…enjoying the process of academia that I used to love so much. But I guess in depression, your brain sort of grows old and tired. It can’t remember things. It doesn’t want to move, or think, or do anything difficult.

My memory is deteriorating and the moments I’m supposed to remember and the information I should retain? It gets lost more often than not. And I am so scared to assess the scale of this incompetency that I just don’t even try because whenever I do, it’s all so overwhelming and all the trauma from Chartered Accountancy comes swirling back to hit me in the head.

3. BODY IMAGE

As a result of my constant sadness, I had to find ways to make myself happy. The periods of happiness lasted for a short while, but I rode the highs to the fullest because I knew the darkness would be back eventually. I turned to alcohol and marijuana and nicotine, to the point where every three or four days I would need one or the other, if not all three in combination. I would drink every night to be able to fall asleep. In my cupboard there is a special collection of all the wine bottles that have acted as sleeping pills.

I also began to eat junk food, because carbohydrates make you happy before they make you feel like shit. All addictions are like that, actually. Swiggy was my best friend, and my array of lovers : greasy Chinese, McDonalds, any dessert place – just whatever was bad for your skin, fattening, but would be brought to you by a wonderful man on a bike no matter what the weather was, and was easy to eat and throw all evidence of out later and forget that somewhere on my body, this food would settle into another ugly layer.

In the middle I got sick of myself and went to the gym, started going at it hard. My body improved and the endorphins were definitely helping, but a few months in I stopped waking up. My brain said it didn’t want to anymore, and I, the slave to my depression, caved and listened. I haven’t been since. The swiggy orders keep coming in every day and I keep throwing the containers into the trash, changing quickly from one outfit into another so I don’t have to see what I look like naked.

But I know. I somehow hate myself for the disgust I have for certain parts of my body, and then for the part of me that knows it wants to “fix” them all, but is in constant battle with the part of me that says I shouldn’t feel guilty for taking up space or for being a curvy girl. But body positivity isn’t about a number on a scale, its just about whether you like your reflection in the mirror, whether it makes you happy. Mine hasn’t made me happy in a long time. But then again, what the fuck has?

Sometimes I’m in trial rooms with harsh lighting and I just stare at myself and call myself horrible names. I keep the lights off when boys come over and the clothes come off. I keep saying, “I have to lose 10 kgs,” but I keep ordering from Swiggy every time a depressive episode rolls in to make it go away.

I keep setting deadlines, like, “After this month, I will cut out sugar!” and “After this exam, I will go back to the gym!” but then I fuck up and I’m like, oh well. Maybe next month.

The bottom line is I despise my body and the way it’s started to look. It doesn’t help that my Instagram feed is full of women with perfect skin, defined abs, and perky butts with chiselled features. I want all of that. I want to feel beautiful, and beautiful is hard work. Which, of course, my brain pines after, but never actually lets me get out of bed to do.

4. DATING/LOVE

My last serious relationship ended in 2017. I briefly dated somebody exclusively in the beginning of 2019, but he turned out to be the biggest asshole of them all, and “didn’t realise” he was using me to get over his ex-girlfriend. He broke up with me over text, pretty much cheated on me, didn’t even explain himself until I found out from some mutual friends. After that I was done, I couldn’t take love anymore. I couldn’t let anybody in because every relationship I’ve ever been in has ended with me being the second choice or me being dumped or betrayed and left hurt and broken for years.

The trauma is too much. So I decided I was never going to let anybody leave me again or enter my life and find a permanent place in it. I became the biggest fuckboy of them all, despite my conscience that has always been a good, kind and sensitive thing. This player thing really isn’t for me, but it was fun for a while to trump boys and play mind games and make them feel inadequate about themselves, to stand them up and never call back and ask them to leave my house after I had gotten what I wanted, to only call when I wanted it again.

I purposely picked out the worst, baddest ones. Then I tamed them by being even worse than they were. In May I began speaking to somebody who was fun and hilarious and good looking and well off and who made my brain feel alive again. Every time he texted me I caught myself smiling, and all our conversations consisted of saying witty sarcastic things to each other. We went on one date and he kissed me in the car, but for some reason in real life his life was so different from mine, that I declared the kiss good (he put his hand in my hair and grabbed, in a non hurtful but very I’m-super-into-this way, ooofff) and the date a disaster. I don’t know whether I was just in denial of my now strongly sprouting crush, or whether I actually hated it.

As the months passed, I tried to get him to go out with me again. I’m not much of a pursuer, because I have always been the one who gets pursued. But this boy was different. We would talk a lot over DM and we would make fun of each other and his life was fabulous and exciting and I watched from the outside, and built him into a much grander version of who he is in real life. I do that. What made him even more attractive was that he didn’t want me, and I couldn’t figure out for the love of God why not. I thought I was the whole package, and I even started to act out a little bit in the psycho way he told me he liked his women, which is SO TOXIC but I had actually felt something for somebody after so long that I didn’t even backtrack. Anyway, it soon became clear that it was not going to lead anywhere because he just disappointed me, didn’t show up, and my ego took a hit. I let it go, mostly. Or I will, as time passes.

I think I deserve love. Not the makes you feel good and carries your bag when its heavy kind. I deserve the love that I am ready to give – the grand romantic gestures that would be so dumb, but somehow he makes them work. The cant live without you love. The we’re best friends and teammates and nothing, not even distance, not our past demons, will keep us from making it work. I want the kind of person who is so sure of who they are, so internally confident, and so absolutely sure that I am their soulmate that I convinces me. I don’t want to meet a lot of wrong boys, goddamnit. I’ve done my fair share of the wrong boys, I’ve paid my dues for the amount of hurt one person is supposed to have. Now I just want the right one.

Deep down, I know he’s not here. Not in this city, because that would just be a cruel joke. Imagine meeting your soulmate and then having to go to college in six months. Fucking shit. If the universe even pities me a little bit, it wont do that to me.

I sometimes wonder if my life only stays on track if my romantic life is going well. I mean, when I dated my last serious boyfriend, I had it all – I was skinny. I had a prestigious internship. I was passing my exams. The writing was flourishing. This is a very scary thought, because I don’t want to depend or co exist on somebody else for my happiness in any way. But I cant deny the fact that my entire life fell apart when that last boy, who I loved with all my heart, broke up with me. It hasn’t been quite the same since.

His life is going spectacularly well, though. Lots of women and a great job and enough money to buy plane tickets to different cities to meet these women when he wouldn’t even drive down three hours to see me in a neighbouring town. I hate how unfair life is. He’s found some amazing people that he has feelings for, that like him back, even though he’s the one who broke my heart. And I still haven’t found a single person who even makes it to the second date, and the only one who did was just using me as a placeholder while his cheating ex girlfriend took a vacation from their relationship. So how the fuck is that fair? Am I being given the worst kind of experiences because my broken heart produces a special brand of my best writing? If yes, then I’m tired. I’d rather be a mediocre writer, but I cant spend my whole life being abandoned and cheated on and dumped and taken for granted, especially when the kind of love I can give is loyal and abundant and pure.

  That’s it. Those are my issues, or some of them. Honestly I’m tired of typing and want to retire to my safe space that is my bed, and the deep dark comfort of unconsciousness. I just thought I might feel better if I could release this into the world, before I feel a little better and write another post manifesting what I envision my life to be next year.

If you made it to the end, you truly love me and care for me. Thanks for sticking with me, I guess. I hope things get better. I used to say that the good thing about rock bottom is that there’s nowhere to go but up. I wish there was some kind of tracker that told you when you’d actually hit rock bottom, because all I do is keep on fucking sinking deeper and deeper.

[angelinasway]

Worlds Collide Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Buffy Summers

Summary: How Buffy and Spencer first met

A/N: This is my first time posting on tumblr, so please give me a shout and let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Dr. Spencer Reid was a man of science and he prided himself on that particular aspect of who he was. It was a very rare day when something could challenge his belief in the way he viewed the world. However, today was about to not only shake that foundation, today was the day that Dr. Reid’s world view was about to be obliterated. He just graduated from Quantico, and to celebrate decided to take a trip to Washington D.C. It was a place he had never been before, but a place he always wanted to see. Considering he would soon be working for the BAU, or at least he hoped. The truth was he hadn’t actually been assigned yet, but he figured getting in the sites and knowing the land marks for the country he would soon be serving was a step in the right direction. For a man such as himself, he supposed it was typical that the first place on his agenda was one of the most prestigious libraries in the U.S., the Library of Congress. He wondered how many books he would be able to read, while giving himself about five hours here. He quickly did the math in his head, and realized depending on the size of the book, he could read approximately six to twelve volumes. His excitement at the prospect for the knowledge he was about to imbue himself with doubled. That however, all changed the moment he saw her. She was beautiful, and to be quite frank, unlike any woman he had ever seen before. She was petite in stature, blonde with delicate features, but what drew his attention the most were her eyes. They were large and bright green, but so old and tired they didn’t look like they belonged in someone nearly as young as her. She walked with purpose up to the second floor and he suddenly found his feet following. It was very unlike him to pursue someone of the opposite sex. He had never had much luck in that department, but his curiosity had gotten the best of him and he couldn’t stop himself if he tried. He wondered why she was here? Was she like him? Was she someone who could get lost in the written word? He wanted to know what she would read, and if he had read it himself. He thought maybe he could find an opening to strike up a conversation with her if he could just find the right thing to say. When she pulled out her cell phone however, and he overheard the conversation she was having, Spencer Reid felt like his world was collapsing. At first he thought she was insane. Not necessarily the best description for someone with an obvious mental illness but what she was saying… Well, it was just crazy. He immediately went into profiling mode after that, everything he studied pouring out of his eidetic memory like a running faucet. Unfortunately, the more he listened, the less anything made any sense. It wasn’t until she put the phone on speaker that the rest of what he knew about the world shattered into a million pieces.

_____________________________________________________________

Buffy grunted in frustration as she removed a stack of large volumes from the book case. Her flip phone nestled snugly between her ear and shoulder. "So what exactly am I looking for again?" "You'll know it when you see it.” Came Giles cryptic response through the receiver. "You know," she grouched. "I was supposed to be on vacation." There was a sigh of frustration on the other line. "Buffy." "No seriously," She snapped, thinking how typical this was to her life. "I've spent years fighting battles, years being the only one. Is it too much to ask for a year off while some of the other girls pick up the slack?" She sighed, her voice taking on a pouty whine as she said. "Why do I always have to be the one to save the world?" "I do apologize, Buffy; however this mission can only be yours." Giles said sympathetically. "On the bright side this has nothing to do with saving the world, or at least not yet." "Yeah," She muttered slamming the books down on a nearby table with a little more force than necessary, "Yet, being the operative word." There was a chuckle on the other end of the phone and she rolled her eyes. “So how is it that the Founding Fathers had information on the Slayer line anyway?" "Well," Giles began. "According to the obscure reference I found in what was left of the Watchers archives, they've known about Slayers since John Adams. One of his daughter's was one." There was a long pause on the other line as something jogged in her memory. "Wait... You're telling me Abigail Adams was a Slayer?" "No actually, it seems her younger sister Susanna was." Giles responded. "But I thought she died?" Buffy said frowning as she walked back towards the bookcase. There was a long pause, before Giles made a choking noise on the line. "Buffy, did you actually just recite a historical fact?" She rolled her eyes. "Hardy, har, har. Very funny." She chuckled, as she removed some more books from the shelf. "Just making sure it's actually you." Giles countered, suspicion leaking into his voice. "Oh, calm down Giles, still the real girl here." She said setting the books down. She shrugged, "There was a special on the History Channel last week. I guess I just retain information better when it's on TV." She swore she could hear him polishing his glasses in aggravation at her comment. "Yes, well Susanna was a Potential whose parents gave her up to the Watchers Council after finding out her possible destiny." "I almost forgot about the original Councils old creepy ways." Buffy said making a face in distaste. "Please tell me we aren't keeping to that barbaric tradition. These girls need their childhood before they're thrown in the thick of things." "I have no desire to start training toddlers Buffy.” Giles voice taking on a tone that she knew well. He was about at the end of his rope with her. “We have neither the man power nor the means to take on such an endeavor. I think when the new generation starts popping up we will simply enlist the older generation and the Watchers we have to train them." “Well that’s good then.” She said, frowning when she couldn’t see anything in the area she just revealed. “Hold on, I’m gonna put you on speaker while I find this damn panel.” “Do you think that wise?” Giles asked, his voice now sounding in the small alcove. “I think that if anyone’s listening security's already on its way up.” She pointed out. “Touché.” He conceded. Buffy reached in her purse and pulled out the mini-flashlight she always stashed in case of emergencies. “Anything?” Her Watcher asked impatiently. “Hold your horses.” She snapped, removing some of the dust that had accumulated off the back panel of the book case. She frowned when she realized how warm the wood felt, her fingers feeling small grooves and indents along the otherwise smooth surface. It felt like some sort of symbol or wording carved in the wood. Buffy shined the flashlight, and froze. There, cut deep in the wood was the symbol she remembered being on the Guardian’s Crypt. “Giles,” She whispered. “Did you know?” “Pardon?” He asked, worry tainting his voice. “Did I know what exactly?” “Did you know this was about the Guardians?” She snapped a little more harshly than she intended. "The Guardians you say?" Was his response, "No, I did not. Hold on a moment Buffy." She could hear pages flipping as he double checked whatever he read in the book he discovered in what was left of the old Watchers building. "No, it simply says that the Americans had discovered something, possibly a text that could be useful to the Slayer. It says they were positive it was located on the second floor of the Library of Congress, but they didn't't know how to access it." He paused. "Then it gets less legible from here. If I'm reading this correctly it also speaks of a warrior for the light being born near the end of the twentieth century. She's supposed to turn the tide in the wars to come. Something about her being reborn thrice, once in death, once in earth, and once in life, but even that isn't the full text. He sighed, "I do apologize Buffy this manuscript is quite burnt. I'm having a hard time reading it. On the next page the only words I can distinguish are ‘healing a broken soul.'" There was a long pause as Giles flipped a few more charred pages. "And nothing else is legible after that." Buffy frowned, "So they knew." "Yes, it appears so." Giles muttered. "Do you..." She swallowed down the lump in her throat. "Do you think Travers didn't give us the four-one-one because of the way I treated the Council?" "It's highly unlikely." Giles said quietly, trying to soothe her fears. "It's much more plausible that Quentin didn't tell us to ensure that this…Well, I suppose, prophesy came to pass." Buffy shook her head, rubbing her eyes with her palm to stem off the tears she could feel building. This was just so typical of them. She never would wish death on anyone, but after everything she had been through, everything she had endured, and they knew, they knew her destiny better than she did. Well, let's just say she wasn't upset they were gone. "So," She said, pushing her emotions to the side. She would re-examine them later, preferably over a pint of chocolate peanut butter cup ice cream. "The reborn in earth is pretty obvious, considering how I had to dig myself out of my own grave." She paused, sighing. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say the reborn in death has to do with the prophecy where the Master was supposed to kill me. I'm lucky that didn't take, though I would put that more in the category of beating death, not being reborn to it." "On the contrary Buffy, I believe the being reborn is exactly what you did. Think about it. Not only did you face the Master. You faced the prophecy and died, but your rebirth happened when you were resuscitated. The Slayer line was broken that day and a new Slayer was called." He paused, and she could hear the pride in his voice as he said, "You were amazing that day." "Yeah, you weren't so bad yourself." She said smiling. "So what do you think the reborn in life means, because right now I got nothing?" "Perhaps it was the calling of the Slayer's. We, in essence, breathed a new life into these girls." "That doesn't make any sense though. Willow did all that." She said frowning, while continuing her search for some sort of lever to pop open a hidden panel. "Yes, but your belief in her is what made that possible." He reminded her. "Or, it very well could be that it hasn't happened yet." "Great." she muttered, wondering how much more crap the Powers could drop on her shoulders. "Look Giles," she said, changing the subject. "I'm not seeing it. There's no lever, hidden panel, or button... Just nothing." She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. "Are you sure this is the right one?" "I should think so, especially with the sigil for the Guardians carved into it." He paused, "Perhaps...Hmm... Is there any wording or fraise carved into the wood?" She shined her light again, running it along the back surface. This was so ridiculous, if someone caught her she could be put on a terrorist watch list or something. Okay, so she knew that was a bit dramatic, but she was definitely running the risk of being thrown into the psych ward for a three day observation. “No...Nothing.” She said stomping her foot in aggravation, and of course that’s when she noticed it on the upper right hand panel nowhere near the sigil itself. “Hey, wait...I see it. Hold on." She frowned squinting as she tried to read it. "Shit Giles, it's in Latin." "I can read that,” Came an unknown voice from around the corner. Buffy spun around, slamming her head in the process. She cringed in pain, grabbing the left side of her forehead. Why did it always hurt more when you did it to yourself? Then she looked up at the man who revealed himself. He stood there very obviously uncomfortable, and her jaw literally almost hit the floor. He was tall and slim with slightly messy light brown hair and eyes. He was especially geeky with his glasses and sweater vest, but the part that made her go all dear-in-headlights-catatonic was that he was gorgeous, absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. She quickly wiped her chin to make sure she wasn’t drooling. Did she mention he was gorgeous? "I mean..." He fidgeted. "If that's okay?" Buffy meant to answer; she really did, but the only coherent noise she could seem to produce was a strange sort of gurgling whimper. "What's your name Sir?" Giles came to her rescue, the amusement in his voice clear. He knew his Slayer too well. Reid shifted uncomfortably, looking at the ground. "Spencer... Dr. Spencer Reid, Sir." "A doctor you say," Was Giles response, his amusement growing by the minute. “Why you don’t sound much older than Buffy here?” "You would be correct. I’m twenty-two, and I’m not... That is to say, I’m not that kind of doctor, Sir. I have three PhD's, one from Cal Tech and two from Yale." He paused, adding. "I also have two BA's from Yale as well." "Good Lord!" Giles exclaimed. "My dear boy, you wouldn't happen to be in the market for a job, would you?" "I mean well... Um..." Spencer stuttered. "Giles, stop it." Buffy chided, finally coming back to herself in time to rescue him from her over enthusiastic Watcher. She met startled light brown eyes before he quickly looked to the ground again, crossing his arms over his chest in a pose that clearly stated how out of his element he was. "Hey," she said, walking slowly closer as if not to startle him. "Sorry about that, he gets excited when he meets someone as smart, or in your case, much smarter than him." There was an indignant huff over the phone, which she ignored. "So um... How much of that did you hear?" She chuckled awkwardly. "I bet you think we're both nuts, huh?" He shifted uncertainly, before finally saying, "Shared delusions are pretty rare, and usually one of the parties, the more dominate of the two, has obvious signs of psychosis. However, neither of you seem to show any signs of a psychotic break…" "Except for the part where we were talking about hidden books and prophecies," Buffy interrupted. "Well yes, there's that." Spencer conceded. "But neither of you seem to display the usual compulsion most people with a mental illness display." He paused for breath. "You in fact seem annoyed at the prospect of being here, and the nonchalance in which you address the situation, as if it's something you deal with daily. It leads me to believe that either you truly believe what you're saying, or it is in fact, the truth." "So..." Buffy said, "You don't think we're crazy?" "I... Well..." Spencer looked up again, this time holding eye contact and wetting his lips. "I haven't decided yet." He shrugged and added. "When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” Buffy raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as she tried and failed to hold back a grin. "Did you just quote Spock?" His cheeks turned pink at her words, and he ran his hand through his short messy brown hair. "Actually, it was first quoted by Sherlock Holmes or more specifically the author, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Though I have to admit I'm pretty impressed you know Star Trek that well." Her grin broadened at his words, her eyes dancing with amusement. He was just too adorable for words. "Spencer, or would you prefer Dr. Reid?" She asked holding out her hand in a show of good faith. "Name’s Buffy, Buffy Summers." On a normal day Spencer would be quite averse to shaking someone's hand, but today was apparently a whole new day for firsts. He reached out hesitantly, his long slender fingers closing around her delicate looking ones. The first thing he noticed was how strong her grip was, he swallowed, realizing that if she wanted to she could probably crush the bones in his hand without blinking an eye. The second thing was the scars all over her fingers and hand. Her palm as well as the area between her thumb and pointer finger also had a large callous typically seen on swordsmen. He stared at her a long time, beginning to believe more and more that they were both telling the truth. "Spencer will be fine, Miss Summers" He said quietly. Buffy smiled deviously. "And you can call me Buffy; otherwise I'll feel like I'm in trouble." Spencer smiled then, a real true smile. "Okay, Buffy then." "And never underestimate a girl who knows her pop culture." She added with a laugh and a wink. "Though, just between you and me, I probably wouldn't have remembered had I not recently spent three weeks in Rome with a super nerd by the name of Andrew Wells." His face fell at her words, so she quickly added, "I never realized there was so much sexual tension between Spock and Kirk until I watched it with him." Spencer frowned in confusion for a moment, before it dawned on him exactly what she was trying to say. He blushed even more when he realized she was hinting at being unattached. "I..." His voice came out at a squeak, and he quickly cleared his throat. "That is to say I never noticed that before." Buffy grinned. "That's good to know." Giles cleared his throat, muttering something about young people and their hormones, before saying. "Dr. Reid, you said you can read Latin?" “Oh,” He said, tearing his eyes away from the pretty girl who had captured his attention so thoroughly. “Um… Yes, yes I can.” “If you would be so kind…” Giles asked. “Yes, of course.” He stumbled as he took his first step, feeling a strong grip on his elbow before he could fall completely. He looked down into the sparkling green eyes of his savior as she held him up, feeling his face heat up in mortification. She managed to ease his embarrassment though, with a kind smile. “It’s over here.” She said, guiding Spencer to where she had been standing before. Buffy turned the flashlight back on and pointed it toward the sigil first. Spencer felt his vision tilt and narrow when he saw it, his breath evacuating his lungs in disbelief. He was pretty sure had Buffy not still been holding on he would have collapsed. It wasn’t that he hadn’t believed them; it was that he convinced himself he only wanted to believe them, and now with the Egyptian symbol for Isis staring him in the face, he had no choice but to believe. He shook his head and looked at the girl with wide disbelieving eyes. “Impossible.” He whispered. “What is it?” Giles immediately jumped in. Spencer cleared his throat. “It’s the Ancient Egyptian symbol for the goddess Isis.” “Dear Lord.” Giles breathed. “Buffy why on earth didn’t you tell me the sigil over that temple was Egyptian.” Buffy pursed her lips in anger at his words. “Excuse me! I was just a little too busy to notice, Giles.” “Bloody hell, Buffy!” He exclaimed “Do you have any idea…” “Hey,” She interrupted, making Spencer take a step back as he watched her fury build. “I had just spent the last six months training a bunch of teenage girls, while simultaneously trying to make sure they didn’t get themselves dead. Not to mention getting thrown out of my own house, by whom… Oh yah, I forgot…you! And let’s not forget the massiveness that was the battle with the First fucking Evil looming over all our heads. So just excuse the hell out of me for not recognizing every Egyptian goddamn symbol I see.” Spencer kept quiet at the exchange. Not really knowing what to think of what he just overheard. It was clear however that Giles was quite used to this type of outburst if his next words were any indication. “Are you quite finished?” Giles said calmly. “Buffy I do actually realize the magnitude of the stress you were under.” He paused. “I was there too, remember? We were all under an enormous amount of stress. However, had I known the Guardians were worshipers of Isis?” She could literally hear him cleaning his glasses. “My God Buffy, the Guardians told you they used the essence of the Slayer to create the Scythe, and they worshiped Isis. What if, what if the Slayers origins lie with her?” It was Buffy’s turn to feel woozy and she reached out and grabbed a hold of Spencer without thinking. “You…you mean the Shadow Men invoked a goddess, not…not a demon?” Her words came out croaked and hallow. “Precisely,” Giles agreed. “It all makes perfect sense. Daemon is the Latin word for the Ancient Greek daimon, meaning god, god like, power, and fate. They were supposed to be benevolent deities, who watched over and guarded mortal men.” Spencer couldn’t help himself, he cut in. “Isis was known as the Goddess of protection, and though she stayed in the background most of the time, she was also thought to be more powerful than her husband Osiris or even Ra.” “Osiris.” Buffy whispered, the color draining from her face. “Good Lord!” Giles breathed, not putting two and two together until just then. “Did I…Did I say something wrong?” Spencer asked, worry now coloring his voice. “No.” Giles said in a defeated voice. “We just have… Well…some experience with that particular deity.” “I died.” Buffy blurted, stepping away from him and wrapping her arms around herself. “I was dead, and my friends invoked Osiris to bring me back.” “I’m not sure I understand your definition of dead.” Spencer said, still trying to hold on to that little bit of the scientific world he wanted so badly to cling too. “Try one hundred and forty-seven days.” Buffy sniped, “I was rotting in the ground, six feet under.” His eyes widened, but he didn’t say what she expected. “That’s what you meant by having to dig yourself out…You were serious? I thought it was a euphemism or perhaps a horribly traumatic encounter with a serial killer.” Giles interrupted, “Dr. Reid, I know the idea of this must be hard for you, but you must understand that this is the same world you’ve always lived in. However, there are things, very dark things that exist in it.” “Mr. Giles, Sir,” Spencer said in a passive aggressive manner that surprised and impressed both Buffy and Giles. “Please do not patronize me. I may be young Sir, but I am not oblivious to the terrors the world has to offer.” He paused for breath. “I just graduated from my training at Quantico, Sir. My whole field of study was Behavioral Analysis, so I am quite aware how horrible the world can get.” His small tangent had Buffy’s eyes widening, but Giles next words had her leaning against the bookcase for support. “You’re FBI.” Giles stated. “I haven’t been assigned yet, but yes.” Spencer confirmed. “Is Jason Gideon still head of that department?” Giles asked. Spencer froze, “You…you know Special Agent Gideon?” “We’ve met a few times.” Giles confirmed. “There are times in your line of work Dr. Reid, where our worlds collide. It wouldn’t do to send a team of agents into a situation they cannot handle.” He paused. “Agent Gideon has been somewhat of a mediator between the Watchers Council and the FBI, he makes sure you don’t pick up a case that will get you all killed.” “Okay, could someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?” Buffy cut in. "The work that Dr. Reid will one day be doing Buffy, is profiling violent criminals." Giles explained, “In that line of work they are more than likely to get called out on a case at some point where the supernatural plays a role. It's Agent Gideon’s job to make sure those cases don’t cross his desk." Buffy gasped, "Giles, how long has this been going on?" Giles cleared his throat. “Well we’ve been involved to some capacity with the authorities since 1973. It was actually Nikki Wood who first brought to our attention the need to have someone on the inside.” “Nikki Wood?” Reid frowned in confusion. “I remember hearing about that case. She was accused of killing her lover, Li Howard. Agent Gideon was called in to profile her, but quickly realized she wasn’t the UN-SUB. They actually never caught the guy.” “Trust me my boy; he was caught, just not by the usual means.” Giles said. Buffy frowned. “Vamp?” “Unfortunately, yes.” Giles confirmed. Spencer looked to Buffy then, deciding once he was done here, him and Senior Supervisory Special Agent Gideon were going to have a very long conversation. “Maybe you should show me that inscription now.” Buffy nodded, feeling her stomach drop. Well, there went any chance of him ever wanting to see her again. She sighed, cursing the freakishness that was her life. “Sure, it’s umm…its right over here.” She pointed the flashlight in the direction, closing her eyes as she felt him lean in closer to get a better look. He was so warm, that was the first thing she noticed, and he smelled good, like old books and aftershave. She found herself wanting to bury her nose in his sweater, and had to shake her head to get the visual out of her mind. Dear god, what on earth was this man doing to her. Spencer wasn’t fairing much better in that department. It took him three times to even read the inscription before it made any sense. He felt like his senses had been charged with electricity, the smell of her strawberry shampoo filling his nose and making his head spin. He quickly shook his head coming back to himself. “Non enim te solum, quia illam. Quod sanguis ejus aperire, quem ipse sibi elegit.” Spencer whispered. “And the English version?” Buffy asked. “It is not for thee, only for She. The blood of the Chosen shall open it.” Giles translated. “Great,” She muttered. “Blood magic.” “I do believe in this case Buffy, blood magic was a necessity.” Giles said. “It insured that the only person able to access whatever is hidden would be you.” “Yeah.” She sighed. “I know.” She turned and looked to Spencer, pulling out the dagger she kept tucked between her jeans and the small of her back. His eyes widened when he saw it, and took a step back. “Do you think the blood should go on the sigil or inscription?” She asked, wincing as she sliced her palm open. “The sigil.” Came both Giles and Spencer’s voice. “The sigil it is.” She said, reaching out her bloodied hand. Something happened then. Something Spencer couldn’t have stopped if he tried. He felt frightened for her, and maybe even more frightened for himself. He reached out to stop her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder just as her hand made contact with the carving. Suddenly, everything seemed to go black and the world began to spin. He felt like he was free falling without a parachute, and then she was there gripping his hand tight enough to make him wince in pain. When the world righted itself again they stood in what must be some sort of temple. A woman with skin the color of bronze, hair as black as night, and clothed form head to toe in gold and jewels stared back at them. She smiled lovingly at Buffy. “My daughter of night, you have finally come.”

[megan-lyndsey]

When youre little you always think that everything has a happy ending, the couple always ends up together and no-one dies.

Coming to the realisation that drama happens in life and there is nothing you can do about it but exist in the moment is heart breaking.

Growing up i thought i would be able to cope with all the "drama" that would come my way, turns out, i was completely wrong.

I never thought i would be the victim to anything, but in reality, i am the victim to many things that have been pushed to the side because someone else has had their "story" told before i got a chance.

Being the "bad guy" in someone elses story means youre always the bad guy no matter what your story is.

I am the victim to sexual abuse, physical and mental abuse, and being cheated on... only i have never been able to tell my story because ive been made out the be the bad guy in someone elses story.

So heres my story.

My story starts in Feb 2014 when i fell in love with the person i wanted to be with for the rest of my life, only he had other plans.

Skip to July 2014 and he'd cheated on me (i should've known then that this wasnt going to end well, but being a 15 y/o, you dont realise)

So we broke up in the July, but kept in contact. He broke my heart.

Three years later, around October/November 2017 time,we start talking properly again (baring in mind that the three years we werent together he was still talking to me and telling me that we could still have a future together, even though he had a girlfriend. He was doing what he did to me to another girl) and this time he says that he regrets everything that happened between us in school and that he was stupid to ever think he'd have a future with anyone else but me (master manipulator, he always said the right things).

So we start dating again (November 2017) this time its better, we always spoke about any problems that we had and always resolved them.

Around Jan-March 2018, he was training up for a cage fight. I supported him fully and tried not to get in the way of his training days, but then he would try to train with me, but i wouldn't know he was trying to hurt me on purpose or whether it was just part of him trying to include me. But he would physically sit on me and twist my body in ways that i wouldnt be able to move and it would be so painful to the point where my ribs, hips and shoulders were bruised. (Physical abuse)

Then it came to around April 2018, and things started becoming weird, and i think thats when it all started, all the mind games and minipulation. It would only be small things, but things that you shouldnt do. So he would log into my social media accounts through his phone and go through all of my messages to make sure that i wasnt cheating on him, and he would change his passcode on his phone every couple weeks so i couldnt go on it.

Then it came to his birthday, April 15th, and we were visiting his family and friends in Blackpool (which id paid for, travel&food& whatever else we would get up to whilst there) but things got weird. We were at a house party whilst we were up visiting and i got far far to drunk and was in&out of conciousness in the bed, when i feel him trying to get it on with me, and i cant speak because im wasted. I felt so took for granted. Like i was an object for him. Just someone he could fuck with, quite literally. (Physical/sexual abuse)

We dont speak about that. I kept quiet. I know i shouldnt but i did.

So i go back to uni after our weekend away.

Everything is fine and i put that whole situation to the back on my mind. I was just trying to focus on my uni work and get myself sorted. But things were getting bad for him at home and he was threatening to hurt himself if i didnt come home and "save him". He would cut himself and drink himself into unconciousness. He even spent one night walking round the streets hoping to get hit my a car, or jump off one of the bridges. (Mental abuse)

It scared me. It scared me to the point of not wanting to be in uni and only wanting to be with him to make sure he was okay mentally and physically, but now looking back on this, i feel like that was just a way to get me back home so that i would feel bad because i was the "cause" of him being like that because im away at uni (master minipulator/ mental abuse)

May 2018, now its my birthday, so i come home from uni for two days just to see my family and friends and celebrate a little before i have to go back. Everything is good, i celebrate with my friends and "significant other".

I go back to uni to finish off my first year course and have a realisation that i dont want to be so far away from everyone anymore so i chose to move back home to be closer. (this was a ridiculous idea and i now regret that choice) i wanted to be closer to my other half (to make sure his mental stae was okay and he wasnt doing anything stupid) and spend more time with my friends and family. I knew if i was at home then everything would be okay because the distance wouldnt be a problem. (Mental abuse)

June 2018, So i start a new job. And my new work colleagues notice that i have brusies up my arms and sometimes on my neck and face, and i would have to make up stories to protect "my s/o" so they wouldnt know that he used to hit me and use me (physical abuse). Sometimes i would joke about the fact that he used to hit me with my work friends to see what they would say and if they would give me advice. (Its a really difficult place to be in and you don't want to tell anyone about it because you seem weak(mental abuse))

July 2018, we start fighting and arguing more and the more we argued, the more violent he would get, and the more alcohol he would drink to "fizzle out" and "forget" about our arguments which resulted in more arguments and fights. I would have bruises on my upper arms and back, and on my thighs (the places that i would wear the most amount of clothing so no-one else could see).

It scared me, i didnt know if he was ever going to stop, or if he did, what would happen next. Would there be more arguments? More alcohol? Who knows?

Then it got to September 2018, specifically the 18th, i remember the date because it was probably the most heartbreaking days of my life. We "broke"up, but we didnt actually brake up, we just had a brake. We still apoke every day after and we would still sleep at eachother houses like nothing had happened between us. It felt like everything was getting better, like without a "label" everything was good between us. Or so i thought.

Turns out, on the day before we took this "brake" he had messaged some other girl telling her that she looked "fire" and "amazing". Yeah i get it, tell someone they look good or nice on a night out, but then donr go telling your friends that shes "your type" or "banging" when youve got a girlfriend yourself.

October 2018, it just seemed to have gotten worse, he was saying that he loved me but always talking to this other girl saying that she is "sexy" and she should "come over and see him", but when she responded with "but wont your girlfriend be there" he doesnt reply back to her. He got caught out by another girl and i had no idea he was doing it. (Mental abuse/cheating)

November 2018, we actually broke up this time, like for real this time. But not before he went on a night out and told my best friend THREE DAYS before telling me that we were over, and constantly saying that i am the worst decision he ever made and that all i ever did was bug him.

All i ever wanted was for him to be happy. I never wanted any of this to happen. All this abuse that got thrown at me was unnecessary and now im scarred. I worry about myself alot now, if ill ever be able to trust another person, if ill ever be able to love another person like the way i loved him.

Thats my story. Take it as you will.

[redvelvetreel]

Red Velvet Reel 2: Pancake(s)

                                         [Fic Directory]

Pairing: [Married] Spicyhoney (Underfell Papyrus x Underswap Papyrus)

Summary: Stretch tries to get ahead of this Papa shtick by making pancakes (Papa-ncakes!!!) and in the process, comes up with the perfect nickname for the baby! Now, the hard and daunting part is deciding how to tell everybody...

Contains: Mpreg/Skelepreg! Domestic Fluff! Pancake(s)! Brief mention of violence! Suggestive Implication (maybe? its very small lol)! Brief mention of Underswap Asgore and Toriel, Undertale Alphys and Undyne, Underfell Sans (Red) & Underswap Sans (Blue) & Swapfell Papyrus (Slim/Puppy) & Swapfell Sans (Black)!

Rating: Teen and up! (I guess? I don’t know ;;;;)

Note: Hgggghhhh now its messed up on mobile! OTL Stand by, troubleshooting!

“Remind what this is, again?”

“Practice!” Stretch flipped the pat of butter starting to sizzle in the pan with obvious gusto, “It’s what they always do in the movies- the little kid sits on the counter, making a mess while trying to stir the pancake batter, while the Dad cooks! And they talk about all sorts of things, mostly the kid asks all sorts of complicated questions the Dad struggles to answer simply. It’s good ol’ wholesome breakfast existentialism!”

Edge continued half-heartedly stirring the batter, “I see.” He paused, looking around the kitchen as though taking inventory, “I suggest you very, very carefully consider how much of a mess you make in my kitchen in the future. I won’t be lenient simply because one of you is a child and the other has the brain of one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stretch took the batter out of Edge’s hands, pouring some of it into the pan with a sharp sizzle, “You are seriously cramping my method acting here. You refuse to sit on the counter, you made the batter too smooth so I don’t need to help you smoosh the large uneven chunks-“ Stretch sputtered indignantly when Edge took the bowl back, wiping the side with a rag before it could drip onto the counter.

“Babe!”

Edge hid a smile behind his hand, looking away as Stretch channeled his outrage at the pancake by poking it with the spatula. Just as quickly, his shoulders drooped and he flipped the pancake, dejectedly, “Actually, you’re right. This is stupid, isn’t it? Babies can’t even eat pancakes, so it’s not like it even matters. Not for a few years anyway. Why am I-“

“Why- uh, chickens... don’t have... teeth?”

Stretch looked up, “Huh?”

Edge cleared his throat, feeling silly, “Why don’t chickens have teeth?”

“That’s what keeps you up at night?” Despite the teasing, Stretch seemed to have brightened considerably, turning away from the stove with a sparkle in his eye, “It’s super weird, right? They have to swallow rocks to mush up the food inside, so wouldn’t it be easier to just chew it up first? Or smash it up into smaller pieces before they eat it?”

Stretch looked at him expectantly. “...yes?” Edge didn’t know anything about chickens, he had no idea what to say, “So... why... don’t they?”

“Well, they don’t have opposable thumbs.”

Edge wasn’t sure what expression he was making, but Stretch collapsed on himself with how hard he was laughing. He pushed his (stupid) husband away from the stove before he could fall into the frying pan, plating the half-burned pancake. Stretch fell to his knees, shaking and laughing hysterically as he started to curl up on himself.

“Hilarious,” Edge muttered, pouring some more batter into the frying pan and picking up the spatula again, “I hope they don’t inherit your sense of humor.”

He didn’t look down when he felt a faint tug on his leg, poking the pancake’s edges loose in preparation to flip it. “I love you-“ Stretch called from the floor, but was ignored. “That really tickles my funny bone, hehe. Anyway, it probably has to do with weight. Teeth are heavy- stomach rocks are not. Chickens with teeth would also look really weird.”

Edge did NOT think about how a chicken would look with teeth, flipping the pancake with more finesse. Stretch finally sat up, leaning against a cabinet as he watched Edge start on another. “I bet Pancake loved it.”

“The pancake is not sentient and has no sense of humor. If it ever had one, it was all burnt away by your neglect. It’s more charcoal than cake at this point.”

“Ouch, what a burn-” Stretch said in that infuriating joke intonation, ignoring the irritated sigh he got in return, “But I was talking about our baby, Pancake. Although I bet my burnt pancake liked it too-“

He froze when Edge leveled him with a piercing glare, awed and a little afraid at how he was able to finish and start on another pancake without looking at what he was doing. “We are not naming our firstborn Pancake.“

Edge turned away with dismissive click of his tongue, repeating it under his breath like it was a curse, “Pancake! Ridiculous!”

Stretch filed the firstborn comment away for later contemplation and analysis, pulling himself to his feet and taking Edge’s old spot by the counter. He eyed the growing stacks of pancakes, crossing his arms self-consciously, “I didn’t say we should name the baby Pancake. I meant Pancake should be the baby’s nickname before they’re born.”

Edge frowned as he added a third pancake, giving him a perplexed look. “...Why? And do you want a fourth pancake?”

“Nah, maybe later,” Stretch carried both plates to the table as Edge turned off the stove, moving the frying pan to the adjacent burner. Stopping by the counter where he had previously assembled all the necessary toppings, Stretch managed to balance the jam, honey, and syrup in one hand and the large tub of sprinkles in the other. Edge obviously disapproved, quickly putting down the butter to take the precariously balanced bottle of honey and place it on the table.

“Cute baby nicknames are like a rite of passage at this point- everybody does it! Of course just ‘baby’ is fine too, but…”

Stretch pointedly ignored the disgusted face Edge made as he doused his stack of pancakes with honey, shaking out a mountain of sprinkles on top.

“It’s like a cool codeword! It’s not like it’s weird. Comic and Classic’s Alphdyne called theirs ‘tadpoles’, and I think Asgoriel called the royal prince... uh, ‘prince.’”

“Who?” Edge put down his fork, looking pensive, “It’s such an undignified nickname, though...”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Stretch gave a sarcastic bow, sweeping his hand out with great flourish, “Young Master Caviar? Their lordship White Truffle? Little… uh, other expensive food name? Eh… fancy nutellla?”

Edge kicked him under the table, hard enough Stretch jolted in surprise and banged his knees against the wood. He put his head down, trying to rub some feeling back into them, “C’mon, Pancake is really cute. It’s the most natural compliment to our Red Velvet.”

“Red Velvet?” The more Stretch spoke, the more confused Edge felt. Stretch did have a tendency to ramble when he was hyper. He knew sprinkles and honey were a dangerous combination... Edge reached over to grab the jar, bringing it next to his plate with a firm shake of his head. “You made this batter. If you wanted a different flavor, that’s entirely your fault.”

“My pancake batter is amazing, thank you-“ Stretch took a huge bite to prove his point, holding his hands up in a T as he chewed as quickly as he could. Swallowing loudly in a way that had Edge twitch in revulsion, he continued, “And not only is that the best cake ever, but it’s also our ship name. Retconned SpicyHoney on account that food combination is not as great as it sounds. Sad to say.”

“Stretch,” Edge’s voice had that deceptive calm that meant he was starting to get angry, “If I found out you made another novelty purchase for some inane reason, you had better pray the angel has mercy on your soul. Because I will not.”

Self-preservation won out the urge to make a joke, shaking his hands emphatically, “Ship, as in short for relationship, not an actual boat. I wouldn’t pull that ship with you.” Damn, so close. Curse his hilarious, ill-timed sense of humor. Edge gave him that look, but he did seem to relax somewhat. Phew.

“So, Alphys and Undyne call themselves Alphdyne, and our- sorry, my monarchs are Asgoriel for Asgore and Toriel. But no combination of Stretch and Edge sounds right. Stredge sounds like something you clean out of your coffee filter. Edtch just sounds gross.”

Edge didn’t say anything, continuing to eat in silence and a blank expression. Why was Edge so reluctant and out of touch with current trends? Sometimes it felt he was married to a crusty old grandpa.

“Red Velvet?” Edge prompted after Stretch went quiet.

“That’s us!” He shook his mind clear of the mental image of Edge knitting in a rocking chair, “You’re Red cause that’s the color of your magic and you’re really...uh, intense.”

Edge hummed quizzically, “I thought that was my brother...?”

“I’m the Velvet cause I am the approachable, soft one. And together we make a great dessert. The best dessert, even.”

“I see,” Edge said in that tone of voice he always used when he was humoring Stretch. “Why Pancake? There’s also cupcakes, cookies, the actual cake-“

“Cause none of those things move. If you’re the father, I’d be willing to bet a whole bottle of honey they’re gonna be an absolute menace when they start being able to kick and move around.”

“Oh? Not that much faith in your soul signature?” Edge rested his cheek in his hand, eyeing Stretch in a predatory way that made him feel very vulnerable, “I’d take that bet, but I don’t care much for honey.”

“What would you rather have?” Stretch regretted those words immediately when Edge smirked, tapping his chin as though thinking deeply.

“How about you come with me to the youth club sometime? The children would very much benefit from your softer... touch.” Edge emphasized the last word by laying his hand over Stretch’s and intertwining their fingers.

Stretch swallowed audibly, looking away from Edge’s piercing gaze and tugging on the collar of his hoodie uncomfortably, “Uh, I dunno, Babe. Those kids are really intense... and I don’t think they like me very much.”

“Nonsense! They’re just a little wary around you because they don’t know you well. They try to intimidate you before you can intimidate them. They’re still learning.” Stretch made a distressed noise, and Edge stroked the back of his hand with his thumb, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. I won’t let any of them bully you too badly.”

“Aw, shucks,” Stretch was trying very hard to avoid giving in. He knew Edge loved those kids in his own gruff way, and they weren’t bad kids. A lot of them had rough pasts they were trying to distance themselves from, and they were getting help to manage their tempers… but angry, scared human children were the stuff of nightmares. Even with some other monster volunteers there, there was no way-

“You can make them pancakes, and get some real hands on experience,” Edge whispered directly to the side of his skull, running a hand down Stretch’s spine. “I would certainly be very appreciative,” He squeaked with that unexpected squeeze to his lower back, staring as Edge leaned back and folded his arms innocently, “But that’s only if you lose. And you are welcome to pitch a counter offer.”

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?” Stretch rubbed at his neck, relishing the twinkle in Edge’s eye and the kiss he got on the cheek. “And I’ll do it even without this bet. Next week?”

“Promise?”

Stretch let out a breath, “Yeah.”

“Excellent! Then as a counteroffer, if little Pancake takes after your lazy nature instead,” Stretch scoffed as Edge was still focused on that silly bet. He should know by now that Edge and Red took wagers incredibly seriously, and yet he was still surprised, “You need to take Puppy and Red out for some event. Your choice of activities, even mini golf, and the ability to freely veto their ideas. I would advise against bar hopping.”

“...You mean Slim?” Stretch was still confused over that latest development. Red and Edge regarded Slim and Black with suspicion and distrust, mutually held, for almost their entire courtship period. Then somewhere between getting engaged and moving into the ‘Swap’ universe permanently, Edge had somehow become absolute besties with Slim. Suddenly, he was ‘Puppy,’ and they would... sit and drink together at get-togethers without talking or really acknowledging each other. They were... getting along?

“Yeah, ok. I’ll babysit ‘Puppy’ and Red for a night,” Stretch didn’t have much to lose, and maybe he could gain some insight into this new friendship of theirs. Both of the Fell brothers had been their typical tight lipped selves about it, and Slim barely spoke to... well, anyone. “What do I get if Pancake’s not a flop, eh?”

Edge rolled his eyes, unimpressed, “You don’t want a bottle of honey?”

“Tempting,” He nodded sagely, “But if I’m gonna play nice with your friends and family, you’re gonna play nice with mine! Let Blue throw you a baby shower.”

At Edge’s dubious expression, he held up a hand, “It’s a human thing, but it’s pretty nice. It’s a little party celebrating the baby, and a chance for the parents-to-be to receive presents and advice from friends and family, play games, stuff like that.”

“Like a pre-birthday party?” Edge looked contemplative, before holding his pinky out, “Deal.”

Stretch extended his own pinky, and they shook on it. Stretch’s pancakes had long gone lukewarm, so he picked at them, debating heating them up again. Would the sprinkles melt? That’d probably still taste ok.

“So is that how you seal deals where you’re from originally?” He asked conversationally, watching Edge get up and start putting the various ingredients away. Stretch swiped the sprinkles while his back was turned, adding another heap to his plate. “Pinky promises?”

“No. That’s… Red taught me that when we were children, and it seemed appropriate. Deals are typically ratified through a Dust Oath. Both monsters slice their palm deeply enough to knock off a hit point, causing the area around the wound to dust. They clutch wounded palms together to intermingle dust, with one witness each.”

“Gotta hand it to you guys, that’s really intense,” Stretch flexed his fingers in sympathetic pain,  “I’m guessing you don’t do that everyday, huh?”

“No,” there was a wistful note in Edge’s voice as he reached up on his tiptoes, putting the flour back in the top shelf, “If you break a dust oath, the penalty is death- and it is always enforced. So it was typically only used to seal very important pledges.”

Stretch frowned at Edge’s back, standing up to put his plate in the microwave. He wondered if he should leave this thread or conversation alone, but he was very curious. Edge never did like talking about his home universe, despite an obvious fondness and longing.

“Speaking of promises, when do we tell our brothers?” Stretch asked instead. He didn’t miss the way Edge’s shoulders and posture became tense. He retrieved his pancakes and sat back down, waiting for his husband to stop scrubbing the frying pan with more force than necessary.

“‘Cause you said you wouldn’t go see the doctor about Pancake until after you told your brother first. And it has been like, two weeks. You’re kinda due for a checkup-“

“Yes, I know,” Edge’s voice had an (heh) edge to it as he turned the water on, rinsing the pan and placing it back on the stove to dry. Stretch finished the rest of his pancakes in silence, stepping around Edge to put his plate in the sink. He was stopped by a hand reaching out, grabbing his forearm tightly.

“I’m not... sure... how... ”

Edge’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet, so Stretch pulled him into a backwards hug, resting his chin on the top of his husband’s head. Edge’s penchant for high heels and his own poor posture always made him forget about their height difference, but moments like these left Edge looking so small. Stretch didn’t like it at all.

“I figured you wanted to do something dramatic, like have them work for it by completing a puzzle or a scavenger hunt or something. There’s a lip reading game that’s been popular lately- seeing as none of us have lips, that has great potential for laughs.” Edge didn’t say anything, but Stretch felt him shift, “But if you’re feeling something more lowkey...”

Stretch looked around the kitchen for a burst of inspiration, but nothing seemed to stand out. Except the dirty plate in the sink.

“We could invite our brothers over for breakfast or something, and give them a stack of red velvet pancakes. And then flat out tell them. Give em coffee in #1 Uncle mugs. What do you think? Simple but not exactly boring either.”

Edge leaned back, hugging his arms with a dejected sigh. Stretch wasn’t even sure what the problem was, why Edge had been so reluctant to share the news even though he was very clearly excited. He refused to tell anyone before he told Red... and then refused to tell Red. Did they have a fight? Was it some Fell thing? Was it because he insisted they tell Blue at the same time? What-?

Before he could say anything, Edge let go and stepped out of his embrace. He picked the plate up, starting to scrub at honey again.

“I think I’m going to be very tired of pancakes very, very soon. When do you want them over?”

[bigbrothernetflix-st]

EPISODE SIX A&B

“Honestly this game is starting to heat up and I've already set up all my pieces its just time to play with them.” - aria

HOH: Brianna UPSIDE DOWN: Josh C & Nick NOMINEES: Nathan & Nash & Jev POV: Brianna FINAL NOMINEES: Nash & Jev EVICTED: Nash (9-0)

HOH: Joshua UPSIDE DOWN: Josh C NOMINEES: Brianna & Nathan POV: Emma / DPOV: Jacob FINAL NOMINEES: Nick & Nathan EVICTED: Nick (4-3)

JOSHUA

i think i should be safe this week! well that's what brianna told me.. so hopefully she doesnt alivia me and put me up. other than that monty going home was ideal for me i think, yes i liked him as a person but he definitely didn't trust me as much as joey might. and he was a duo with nick so like.. he had to go ewp. nathan and nick were probably the votes to keep him. hopefully jury is at f11 which could possibly mean a double, which could possibly mean im fucked! :D

EMMA

I think its a high chance of me getting nominated i mean i got the upside veto but its like still i hate and love this game im having fun meeting people i love joshua play with jev again been fun i love aria i love jacob i love and miss gina and saira but its outside reasons why i cant focus however today is the very first day that i havent felt depressed but im scared of it creeping up on me again this game has been so confusing these people are so quiet yet so cracked it makes me frustarted the fact that the alliances or supposed alliances are all people who played in pasio or bbdanganronpa idk if its true but if it is it feels like i got no chance of winning the game alot of people are pretty outsided to me i like to think i got a good social game but i aint some social goddess idk its gonna take for me some dark magic for me to survive or have a chance of me winning this game at this point also the nathan thing i am pretty sure i go to him more then he comes to me and also im pretty sure if he and monty were final noms i would probably kept nathan over monty uwu but damn the victim card isnt cute like i been there done that games are fucking hard but u need to pick urself back up if you want to do well like damn nathan i hope ur okay its hard but he could probably do it if he tries i just guess i need to tell him that i dont want him to feel isolated. 

JOEY

Sooooooo..... TANK BOWL SZN is still on. I threw yet another competition, but I’m literally so fucking safe this week, all I have to do is just relax, let Brianna take some blood on her hands, and hopefully Nash or Nathan go home this week. Nash and I don’t talk, but that’s what half the house has said. I need Jev here as a shield. Nathan I also need gone since I think he’s tryna manipulate me, and honestly, I ain’t here for it. Literally, if I have to get rid of Nash or Joshua myself, I’ll do it.

NASH

like... genuine congrats to brianna for making moves but i also think this decision was a bit of a choice? getting nathan out would be a predictable move, yes, but hes also messy/chaotic so i don’t see why i or jev would be seen as bigger threats than him? idk.... 

BRIANNA

https://youtu.be/YxxaFmBTQXc

ARIA

well. Perhaps its been a while HBFSDJF oopsie whoopsie,, so yeah this is going to be realllllyyy long but ive been doing a lot!! and yall deserve to know the mental olympics ive been going through these last couple weeks so its time for bullet point time!! ALSO I MISS SAIRA GINA MO AND MONTY A LOT BRING EM BACK

-in the stab comp, josh c has some sort of connection with jev and emma because they both stabbed him when they've both told me they liked him, so he threw 

-joey finally snapped and made the alliance between me/kiki/joey/bri

-kiki is in a GREAT position but wbk (kiki jev joshua have to be together in some sense)

-joshua takes a shot at monty/nathan,,,conviently leaving nick the person WHO EVICTED SAIRA alone,,,inch resting

-joshua heard someone said his name, asked monty who ratted out josh, asked jos who ratted nathan-  which leads to a nathan/joshua fight

-nathan ratted out the nathan/monty/nick alliance first

-joshua good at comps

-nash and emma(?) won something from the ud

-nick then leaks the alliance to me,,,after the veto is announced

-nick hinst at going after jacob

-nick warned me i was being grouped with bri/jacob

-whole house considers bri/jacob a group

-NATHAN WINS VETO FUCK YEAH

- jacob leaks kiki/nash/joshua/jacob alliance

-emma feels close with nick (REMEMBER THIS)

-jacob AND nick told nash gina was after them

-leaked to jacob nick is after them

-josh acted like he didnt know nash was connected?? is it a front???

-BRIANNA WINS HOH YASSSSSSSSS

-jacob tells me and bri nash has a dpov (might be fake)

-nathan blows up and clocks the majority thing and pisses everyone off

-i come up with cracked plans that WILL NOT be shared

-JOEY RECORDS CALLS!!! REMEMBER THIS!!!

-joey wants to go after joshua on live night

-joey feels close ot nick

-nick comes to me with a plan of voting out nathan with joshua/kiki so jev and nash come after bri and take her out weakening jacob

-using that knowledge i convince bri to veto nathan :)

-nick is super close to kiki

-talked to joshua josh nathan emma nick who are all evicting nash

-nathan wants kiki out before joshua 

-nick thinks jacob leaked the everyone but... alliance

-nick wants to take a shot at jacob live night

So here we are. I somehow have no blood on my hands and someone whos very connected with major players (jacob and nick) is leaving :))) literally this week turned out so well im still squealing that the rumored "dpov" didnt get used fhbasjfd like when i saw the time limit passed  i jumped around my room and squealed But!! the next big thing is where do i go from here. I THINK me bri and jacob are all safe in live night bc jacob's dpov can help if we're in trouble so im feeling kinda confident for the three of us, and then for some reason nick trusts me?? like a lot??? so i can get information and the perspective of the other side whenever i need it. Not super sure where to go from here but i want to keep the "sides" even so if someone like joshua/kiki/jev could go next that would be great although it probably won't. Honestly this game is starting to heat up and I've already set up all my pieces its just time to play with them.  

Also kinda want to address that people in this house think that bri just ruined her game by doing that but i think i made a good point when i wrote this in my dr- 

"You have a clocked group but you don’t want to take a shot at them because you might have “connections” within that group and think you can be the last person standing but at the end of the day they’re always gonna choose each over over you"

and i think Bri just broke the expectations of sheep being taken to the slaughter and rewrote her own destiny and im proud of her, shes literally the SWEETEST human being ive ever met and the rest of this house is NOTHING compared to her. This is @ someone btw you know who you are :) 

and thats on pewiod <3

JEV

So just a little recap of the week, I wasn't surprised to be nominated in the slightest. It kinda bugged me that Brianna brought social interaction into her reasoning for nominations since she doesn't seem to be very responsive in PMs to anybody but I guess it had to happen sooner or later. I just hope me and Nash can survive this week because I don't think either of us deserve to leave over Nathan. Being called out by Nathan earlier this week really annoyed me since he was literally grasping at straws to throw anybody but himself under the bus then had the nerve to say he isn't a messy player... girl the delusion but hopefully he'll leave this week, that's if Brianna is smart and doesn't use the veto on him. He's loyal to nobody but himself and he's proven that this week with his house meeting.

KIKI

im super excited to make jury.... hopefully ill be able to make it this time longer... i seem to be cursed with horrible situational circumstances lately JDJEIDJDJFKD. anyway as of now my strategy was just to lay low until jury but i think i might continue that for a while... try not to win hoh. i have a finger in every pie as of right now and am in an alliance with everyone in the cast but nathan.... and in doing so have hopefully reduced myself as a target in the eyes of others.... kiki is a master of psychological manipulation. for the live night im banking on that to keep safe but i do tend to be good under pressure so if need be i can count on myself and probably even my closer allies such as joshua and nick to help me out if i end up in a sticky spot. shakes ass in here for the hosts. thats all thank u

ARIA

https://youtu.be/wekzYKEGI-8

HOST WEEKLY CAST ASSESSMENT

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJtu5a78U8c&list=PLFEwPPy8j010XXwntq80VSU0qLNTNpSIN&index=7&t=0s