#how she processes them is different and she doesn't do the pity party thing so much

[doomed-era]

never posted widget's(GBoH!Zelda) reference here either...smh

four years of waiting for gaffen didn’t exactly do wonders to her! she's got wounds from being almost consumed by malice ahah.

thankfully she does recover from it all! sorta. she does have some difficulty using her non-dominant hand due to both missing a finger and having some pretty nasty wounds on it. She tends to wear sandals and doesn't wear a glove on one hand because that tends to make the pain flare up. Widget's quite extroverted and energetic— anything she puts her mind to she'll try her best to complete. She tends to ramble a LOT when she's excited as well. Despite all the stuff she's been through she's...very trusting, perhaps to a fault. Before the Calamity, she had a lot of trouble forming her own identity despite her usual air of confidence. You know the drill; she was insecure about how her powers weren't showing up, but she also just wasn't that great at socializing in general, despite desparately craving approval from her peers and her father. She tends to run her mouth more than people think is appropriate and say things that probably shouldn't be said in polite company without realizing. This kinda becomes a complex where she thinks she's better than the higher-class people she hangs out with because she's brutally honest and objective all the time and people are driven away by her because she's just kinda rude. She's also incredibly gullible and gets attached to people too easily, which has caused...issues.

[brighteststar707]

Agency AU, Saeyoung and MC were partners once, before the events of the game.

Seven's eyes are the same honey-gold they always were. He was never one to use lenses on missions, so she has come to associate his eyes with safety. As long as he was there, she knew they would get out of wherever they were safely. Even through masks and disguises, they could always communicate without saying a word.

She wishes she didn't understand what he's trying to tell her now, though.

It's sorry and I wish things were different.

It's pity.

It makes her feel small and pathetic and all of a sudden she wishes the ground would swallow her up just for it all to be over.

She had heard of an obliterated agency - the same one she escaped all that time ago - and realised that she'd never get another chance like this to find him again.

If the rumours were to be believed, he was free from the agency's shackles at last. It was the kind of thing the two of them would whisper about all that time ago while falling asleep, bodies tucked against each other for warmth and comfort. They'd take turns spinning stories about any fantasies they still harboured about a life outside of the agency. They always ended up together in the end. It didn't feel complete otherwise. She'd drift off to sleep to the feeling of him tracing shapes over her back and dream of a warm safe future with him.

She had escaped first. A crack had opened, big enough for only one. There was a look in those eyes, one that told her to run as quickly as she could. To get to freedom. A look that said live for us both.

And now he was out too. The stars had aligned, their wildest dreams had come true.

Each news report was stranger than the last - cults, political conspiracies, the world's secrets getting exposed. Each one brought her a step closer to him, closer to this very moment. Until she held the ornate invitation in her hand. The beautiful party, the hall and the music and the lights all fit for a fairy tale.

It was all a sign. She was certain. They were destined to find one another again.

But now, he's looking at her like he wishes this wasn't happening and her hopes all come crumbling down around her.

Before he can open his mouth to say anything, he is distracted by the clicking of heels from behind him. His face automatically breaks into the kind of smile that could light up the night sky. He reaches out to the figure approaching and he doesn't have to say anything at all.

The two of them slot together perfectly. They look at each other and, for a moment, they are in their own world, leaving her miles away, processing what she has just stepped into. Feeling the cracks start to form in her foolish dreams.

When he turns back to her, expression already contorting back into something apologetic, she just shakes her head. She cannot bear to hear what he is preparing to tell her. It will be gentle and kind and so pitying and it would hurt worse than any other let down could be.

She interrupts him with a smile and a quick excuse, something about someone she was meaning to talk to. It's all the kinds of vague he can read through but she doesn't care enough to mask it. She says goodbye to both of them before hurrying off back into the party hall.

It makes sense that he would move on. Normal people do. It makes sense that he'd find someone not connected to the pits of their world, someone shiny and new who doesn't know how ugly life can be. It's what he deserves.

She just isn't sure where that leaves her anymore.

[s0lar-ch3ri]

character writing time (i made my son today its so traumatized already <3)

okay so i did come up with it through a self-made prompt: we always hear about how the villain has better reasons then the hero, or the villain's goal is more just then the hero's. well, the hero realized this after a confrontation with the villain. as such, they quit working for those in charge, the ones wanting to fight for these ideals, wanting to go join the villain. however, being enemies doesn't stop when you switch sides, and the villain pushes the hero away. the hero now is a traitor to both sides, evil in the eyes of all parties involved, and a hero to none no longer.

another thing before we begin, my son aka the character i made uses it/itself pronouns and is boyflux! its unnamed, but ill come up with one later, rn its writing time (yes i built my prompt now differently, this is like the backstory to the scenario, and tw of attempts at suicide and general shitty quality of life) (adding while writing, talking badly about using it/itself pronouns (which i do use, nothing wrong with them)

you can also not look if you wanna just have your own written ideas and dont think mine would follow ours or whatever lol

Was it 7 months, 8? It didn't know. It didn't feel a need to care. Not after all it had worked for came crashing down. For 7 years, it had worked to be great. It was great. It saved people, it fought away bad guys, it was helpful to their cause. Then it opened its eyes, with help from their enemy.

"Do they want a safe city, or are they fighting for the control over it?" Marion had boomed. It normally wasn't enough, but it didn't leave it's head and it had to ask. And oh boy did that go just GREAT. It quit then and there, and in the process became a target for them to destroy. It had planned to maybe work with Marion, maybe even stay with her. But she didn't believe a word. She didn't want to listen long, and those eyes declared the message before she spoke it.

"Leave before I make you."

For 7 years, it was a respected individual. In these 7 or so months, it was unable to be seen as an individual by any. Out of costume and out of any shelter or anything, it had sunk lower then the care for a shot rabid dog. Maybe if it had fucking planned, it wouldn't be freaked out over any look, worrying if any food they'd get was poisoned, if the world could care for a second.

The running tired it's legs. It was tired of running. So here it was, sitting on a crummy wooden bridge, in the bumfuck area of town, where if improvements happened it came from the people's efforts. The railing creaked and it was littered with nails and glue desperately trying to hold together the pieces. The bridge's best area was how built in it was to the road, it supported it well. That didn't stop the paint peeling and uneven planks from filling one with fear. Still, the small snail painting which seemed to have new additions to it each day (new flowers, a sun, friends, anything these kids could paint) was cute. It felt fragile and strong at heart.

The rails were warm. Its hands held the plank and closed its eyes, taking it in. The noises of conversation just too far away, maybe some cars, the wind, its breaths. In, comfort and warmth and love filled itself. Out, the knowledge it couldn't be for someone like it, one who itself knows it couldn't be referred to as human. In, the musky waters about one block away from the bridge filled its brain. Out its arms went. Out its legs went. Out of this world it wished for. Holding in this final breath, even when its lungs wanted nothing more. Just like in the uppers' trainings, it thought. No pain, no gain, it thought.

In, fallen off and finally finding an answer to where the world's kindness went, it had fallen into Marion's. Her dark blue eyes reminded it of the night sky. It wondered if this was death yet.

"Now what the fuck were you doing." She was holding it so nicely. As though she'd feel pity for the rabid dog, still holding on through its pain, no matter how much it didn't want to. "God, breathe, you're not dead yet!" Without warning, it felt a quick flat blow to the stomach, forcing it to let go of whatever air it tried to hold just a little longer.

"Maybe I should have used rope, heh." It's voice was shakey and louder then it wanted.

"Well, I'm grateful you didn't." There was a moment of silence between the two. It's head just looked up at the stars, barely visible.

"...You weren't lying. You weren't trying to deceive me or whatever shit."

"...I guess."

"Why did you go talk to me first?"

"...Don't know, felt right." It lied there.

"Hey," grabbing its cheek and tilting its head down. "I may not fully fucking trust you, but your staying with me for now. If this whole thing was a trick, then fuck you, but I sadly can't let somebody try that again. Not when it's y...someone with good information on those fuckasses." Morian chose her words carefully, as though one mess up and itd try again.

Grabbing her hand, it knew this was probably how itd be going. No way people change heart so easily. Yet, it couldn't lie on this, it was one of the most pleasant kidnappings it had been apart of.

[woildismyerster]

Hi can I have a Jojo x Reader where she is really quiet and he's really outgoing and she really likes him a lot and she doesn't know that he likes her back? (your Finch soccer fic has my dead I love it ❤️)

(Dude, thanks.)

The perks of going to a cider mill in the fall included, though were not limited to: pumpkins, corn mazes, apple cider, those cute little gourds that you saw kids carrying around, friggin’ bomb donuts, and the fact that JoJo was going to be there.

The rest of your friends, too, but JoJo.

The major downside to going to a cider mill was the fact that pretty much everybody in the country enjoyed all of those things, so you had to deal with a bazillion other people in the process.

“This is heaven,” JoJo said.  “It’s my favorite thing.”

“Totally.”

“If I see one more little kid in a giant sweater, I might actually die of happiness,” he said.

You grinned at him.  He had been stoked to come, but his delight only increased the longer you stayed.  He ate too much, bought too much, and smiled too much.  It was hard to be uncomfortable about the crowds when he was walking with you.

You looked back toward the corn maze.  “Do you think Race and Albert are out yet?”

“No,” he snorted.  “They won’t finish unless they cheat.”

The boys had never managed to get out of the maze without cutting through the rows of corn, but they were convinced that this was the year.  This was the year that they would actually win the maze, and it would be purely aboveboard.

You and JoJo had finished a half hour prior, and the boys hadn’t come out yet.

“We should go through again,” you said.  JoJo gave a slow, deliciously sly smile while you continued.  “I want to lap them.”

“I love it,” he said, and dragged you back to the entrance.

Race, JoJo, and Albert had always been as thick as thieves.  Since most activities were better suited for two people than three, you often tagged along on whatever fun they had planned.  Realistically, you knew that you were there to keep someone from being left out.  In practice, it was easy to pretend that you had been included on merit alone.

You ended up with a different boy in different situations.  Race would grab you when he needed somebody to make him look less problematic.  Albert was as suspect as Race was, and JoJo’s smile could convince anybody that some master plan had been executed.  If Race was standing by you, he just might get away with something.

Albert liked working with you academically.  Even if the two of you couldn’t figure out how to do the work, he stood a better chance at paying attention if you say with him.

JoJo stood with you during social situations.  It was strange; he absolutely adored socializing, and you always felt a step behind in large groups.  It would have made more sense for him to hang out with people who loved public situations, but he always ended up with you.

Maybe it was a pity pairing.  Maybe he just liked you well enough to choose you above all others.  You wouldn’t complain either way.

You ran into Race and Albert about halfway through.  “Hey, guys.  Having a rough time?”

Albert gave a relieved sigh at the sight of you.  “Man, it’s harder than usual this year.  I don’t know how they can expect kids to figure this out.”

JoJo gave a small squeak in his attempt not to laugh.  “Totally.  How long have you been at it?”

Race checked his phone.  “Over an hour.”  He frowned.  “What do you mean?  You’re still in here too.”

JoJo looked at you.  “This is, what, our sixth time through?  Seventh?”

You squinted at the sky.  “Let’s see - there was the first time -”

“The time we did it blindfolded -”

“Hopping on one foot -”

Albert took off his beanie and smacked you with it.  “You guys are the worst.”

JoJo laughed.  “Just because you guys don’t know how to read a map -”

“Using the map is cheating,” Race said haughtily.  “That’s why you guys finished so fast.”

“Well,” you said, “we didn’t use it the time we were blindfolded, so there’s that.”

JoJo linked his arm with yours on the way out of the maze, and you thought you could understand why couples liked going to cider mills together.  It was easy to imagine loving someone in a place like this.  

It was just as easy to imagine loving him later that night, when the atmosphere was different and JoJo was the same.

The fact was, JoJo was easy to like.  He smiled a lot, and laughed at most of your jokes.  He made you funnier.  He made you feel smarter.  He made you feel like you could probably talk to people more, if you really wanted to.  He made you feel like a much better version of yourself, and that was a dangerous was to feel.  Feeling that way was addictive, and hard to come down from.

“I’m telling you, we could be the best cryptid hunters,” JoJo insisted.  He made the pitch every few weeks.  After graduation, he said, the two of you ought to buy one of those Mystery Machine style vans and scrounge North and South America for creatures in hiding.  

If the suggestion hadn’t always arisen after he thought about things like college and careers, you might have taken him a little more seriously.

“You just want to be like Buzzfeed Unsolved,” you said.

He shifted in his chair to look at you directly.  “We’ll be better than that.  We’ll be straight up Ghostbusters.  But, like, without capturing the cryptids.  You know what I mean.”

You did.  “Which one would you be?”

“Which one is the cutest?”  He laughed when you threw a pillow at him.  “We’ll be our own thing.  No comparisons necessary.”

JoJo would be Bill Murray.  He would be the one who had no trouble talking to people, who people wanted to have answers for.  You wouldn’t be so good at that, but it was fun to imagine a life where you were.  If that life included traveling the world with your best friend, even better.

“Let’s do it,” he sighed again.

“Alright,” you said.  “You buy the van.  I’ll handle snacks.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“If we do it long enough, I’m sure that I’ll match your expenses.”  He rolled his eyes at you, so you made a sound of defeat.  “Alright, I’ll design and buy our t-shirts, too.”

“Oh, big spender,” he teased.  

“Your plan, your losses,” you said.  “You’ll be lucky enough to have my company.”

“That’s the truth,” he said.  “JoJo and Y/N, dream team.  No doubt.”  When he said it like that, you believed him.  

You went to grab a drink from the kitchen, hoping that the break in the conversation would remind you that it was only ever like this when nobody else was around.  It wasn’t realistic to imagine a life with JoJo being exactly the way it was when it was just the two of you.  There would always be other people.  There would always be other plans.  JoJo would end up with somebody more like him, and you would end up hanging out on your own.

“You’re very quiet,” the old woman said thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” you agreed.  You weren’t sure that there was a good response to that.

“You should smile more,” she said.  “People won’t mind as much if you smile more.”

You winced.  There definitely wasn’t a good, kind response to that.

JoJo took a step forward, positioning himself so he was almost more of a part of the conversation than you were.  It was a relief to step away.  “Y/N only smiles when there’s something to smile about.  She’s great that way.”

The old woman made a few polite, mildly appalled sounds before excusing herself to talk to somebody else.

“Jesus Christ,” JoJo said, nearly impressed.  “Family friends are the worst.”

“Preach.”

“Old people birthday parties are supposed to be cute,” he said.  “She wasn’t cute at all.”

You laughed.  “She really wasn’t.”

“You aren’t too quiet.”

“I know,” you said.  That wasn’t quite true; you probably were too quiet, at times.  It just seemed like no matter how much you talked to people, you never got much better at it.  Your friends were some of the only people who made talking feel like less than a chore, and that was hard to explain.  It was easier to sit back and let other people lead.

“And you smile often enough,” he said.  “As long as you’re smiling at my jokes, you’re filling the quota.”

You nodded, nearly rolling your eyes.  “Totally.  As long as I hang out with you all the time, nobody can ever say that I’m not smiling enough.”

“Easy enough,” JoJo said cheerily.  “We’ll have to hang out more.  We’ll have to be literally attached at the hip.”

“Literally?”

“Literally,” he said solemnly.

“That’s gross,” you said.

JoJo laughed, and nobody could have said that you weren’t smiling enough.  Nobody would have thought that you were too quiet.

“Race is probably gonna, like, be one of those high school teachers that pretends that he can be best friends with the students.”  Elmer was laying on his back, taking his shot at imagining what everybody’s future would be like.  “The one that tries to use cool slang and rag on other teachers, you know?”

Race made an appalled sound.  “I would never be a teacher.”

“But you won’t deny the fake cool thing?”

“I would never be a teacher,” he said again, and you laughed.

Everybody thought that Davey would be one of those professors that had elbow patches.

Mush would own some sort of business, and his workers would be grossly overpaid because he’s too good for the universe.

Katherine would, of course, be a writer.  A scathing, world changing writer.

“JoJo and Y/N are probably going to get married someday,” Katherine said dreamily.  She took one of the cookie pieces off of her Oreo, careful not to peel up any frosting in the process.  “They’ll have normal jobs, and normal kids, and be the happiest of all of us.”

Jack applauded.  “Way to go, guys.  Mad props.”

You gave an uncomfortable smile, careful not to meet JoJo’s eyes.  “Yeah, no, I don’t think JoJo and I would work out.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Katherine scoffed.  Some of the guys agreed, and Katherine raised her eyebrows at you as though the consensus alone proved that you were wrong.  “You guys would be great.  You always make sure that the other person is happy.  What more could you want?”

“That’s not - I’m not saying that we wouldn’t make each other happy.  JoJo is my main man,” you said.  You grinned at him; maybe most of the words weren’t happy ones, but JoJo being your friend would always be a happy thing.  Whether you were satisfied with it or not, JoJo was always a source of happiness.  “He’s the best.  But we’re really different.”

JoJo leaned forward in his seat.  “How?”

“Like, you really like being around people.  I don’t like that at all,” you said.

“You’re people,” he pointed out.  “I’m just as jazzed when it’s the two of us as I am with thirty other people.”

“Everything makes you smile.  I’m hardly ever as happy as you,” you said.

He shrugged, nearly letting soda slosh over the rim of his cup.  “If I make you smile, that’s good enough.”

You threw your hands up, defeated and a little annoyed.  “If you’re so hellbent on proving me wrong, let’s just date.”  There was something scathing and sarcastic about the way you said it, but JoJo was unbothered.

“Okay,” JoJo said.  “Let’s date.”

A hush fell over the room.  You gaped at JoJo, and he stared back with no trace of humor on his face.

“Let’s give them some privacy,” Katherine said.  For once, nobody fought her.  For once, all of your friends managed to keep their heads out of everybody else’s business.  They left the basement, and you were alone with JoJo.

“I like you,” JoJo said.  “A lot.  I’m not saying that you have to agree to marry me now, but I think that you and I being You-and-I is worth a shot.”

“I had no idea that you liked - that you wanted -” you croaked.

“Everybody else did,” he said wryly.  “Seriously, everybody else knows.  People in China probably know.”

You didn’t know what to say.  This wasn’t how you imagined things going.  Really, you hadn’t imagined it much at all.  You hadn’t ever thought that there was a point to imagining this.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” he said seriously.  “I know that the whole cryptid hunting thing is never going to happen.  If you don’t want to be together like that, I won’t be upset with you.”

“I really want that,” you said.  That, at least, you knew for sure.  “I do want to be together like that.”

“Really?”

“That would be my favorite thing,” you said, and he laughed.  He laughed, and you thought that maybe the two of you weren’t too different after all.

[undeservedfavor]

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The Bucketlist

Mini-Series of Short Stories

St. Valentines Day [EN]: Chapter 4

Two months has passed as they continued to work together until they finish the movie and gained so much awards and credit.

"Woohoo!!! Guys! Let's party! We all deserve it for all the hard work!" Director said.

"I think you guys need to talk about something. I don't know but while working with the both of you, we all feel sexual tension in the air." The celebrity Catherine said to Gisela when she noticed that Dorian is eyeing her from afar.

"H-he thinks he's so hot that he can get everyone. Though he told me he had indecent proposals in the past, 3 SMS, 4 Calls, 6 DMs, and 2 missed calls... He's not that hot." Gisela told the actress.

"Woah, so updated, are we?" Catherine gave Gisela a knowing look and a knowing smile.

"Can we talk?" After the Dorian's invitation, he and Gisela went to the nearest park.

"Whenever, I see that sand box, I remember Plage Solitaire. The most peaceful beach on the planet." Gisela just nodded to what Dorian said.

"I-im sorry." They both said in unison.

Then, they laughed a bit with embarrassment.

"L-listen-..." They said again in chorus.

"You go first." Dorian said.

"No. You should go first." Gisela said.

"Uhm, here you go... C-can we be together?" Dorian asked Gisela who shed tears immediately with the question.

"You don't understand. You don't wanna be with someone so-called 'Damaged Good'. I don't want you to regret it. You don't wanna be with me. You don't need to due to pity. You don't-..." Gisela's anxiety is overwhelmingly obvious.

"We do not know those things yet. Those are 'What ifs', you're far from a 'Damaged Good'. For me, you're a beautiful 'Work-in-progress' and hell, despite the controversies I had, I'm still in good condition, whatever you're going through, I will go through it with you. Whatever you're thinking, I'll help you overcome it. If there's someone who can try and understand you, that's me. For me, this isn't the time to waste time and fool around, this is not like the roles I play, this is real. You are real. I don't care how hard it is but no matter what, I wanna be a part of something so beautiful... A part of your plans in the future. Please. For old times' sake, let me be with you all the way." Gisela, lost for words nodded crying as Dorian also shed tears.

"Gisela, thank you. I love you..." Dorian whispered to Gisela as he caress the woman's hair, embracing her long and tight enough to make her feel safe.

"Let me drive you home." Dorian told Gisela.

They both started living under one roof at Dorian's condominium unit.

One morning, as they're lying on the bed, Dorian hesitantly asked about Gisela's list...

"Dear Piggy... A-are you still gonna continue with that list?" She showed him the list seeing number '6' crossed out.

"Back in the beach, I haven't really finished the list yet. Now, it's done. I actually skipped on number '6' and went straight to number 7, 8, 9 and 10. 'Cause you're not just any random guy... Technically you're my little Dino, but... You're the one." Dorian checked the list out due to his curiosity.

1. Earn a lot for the future. ✓

2. Quit the medical industry. ✓

3. Spend more time with the only family - Merian. ✓

4. Finish writing my novels and posting it to my writing/social platforms. ✓

5. Buy a house in Plage Solitaire at a chosen paradise to 'live and die' for. ✓

6. Have virginity taken by a random guy and leave him clueless afterwards. *Skip this part.* ✗✗

7. Get a writing job. ✔

8. Take care and fully pay insurance. ✅

9. Have the one closest to my heart, help me choose a casket and designs for the tomb.

Plus, choose a church for the blessing and perfect spot in the graveyard/cemetery.

10. Chose a great necrological service speaker. I want a great Eulogy.

Dorian just looked carefully at Gisela's face and embraced her tightly.

Then, she spoke...

"I know. I'm a weirdo." Gisela told Dorian.

"Piggy... You're kinda like scaring me with these things but if this is the way I can be with you, I'll understand, process and digest every single bit of it. I'm not even gonna ask you why you made this list in the first place but if you're ready to not give up on life, I'm gonna go with you if you decided to get yourself checked." Dorian said.

"I'll tell you when the time comes..." Gisela said.

The couple decided to go shopping.

No ordinary shopping but he's only doing it for Gisela even if he doesn't wanna consider the thought.

"You know what? I think this one will be okay. Ah! I know! Maybe I can also have a reservation my own. Same color as I've chosen for you. So when the time comes... We're still gonna go as a couple. Even if it's the after-life." Dorian joked a bit.

"Don't. Even though, couple shirts, couple rings and other couple stuff might be cute, I don't want you to think about a couple casket. You're a born villain. And villains don't die unless it's passed hundreds of years already. Plus, they don't even age. Time flies for them gracefully like a bloodline of a vampire." Gisela joked him back.

The next stop is to the cemetery.

They're choosing tomb designs.

"This is perfect, 'In loving memories of...-" Gisela was cut of.

"We can choose the designs Piggy but it's good to personalize those messages." Dorian said as he wrote things down on a paper.

You have lived a life full of love.

Soon, we'll meet and love again up above.

To the place where there is never-ending peace.

Love,

Your Dorian

Gisela smiled at Dorian and they went to the cemetery.

Gisela insisted to choose a spot.

"This spot is nice. The one near the tree." She said.

"I would already reserve those two spots next to each other. So that I can lie down with you forever when the time comes..." Dorian said Gisela shed tears and hugged Dorian.

"I don't wanna take you in this journey with me. You're not welcome this early to where I'm heading. Sorry for being so difficult but thank you for having number 9 checked off my list." Gisela said as she embraces her boyfriend.

A day after Dorian's shoot, he went home to Gisela and the house was empty.

Their things are scattered all over the floor.

The entire house was messy.

But...

There are no traces of Gisela everywhere.

She's missing.

"My dearest, why end up dodging the bullet once more? Running away and hiding again on me like that." Dorian whispered.

He searched everywhere for her and in a place he thought Gisela would go to.

"She's not here. She went through a deep trauma after she saw her parents died in the car accident. I know my cousin can be a handful, but please, don't give up on her." Merian said.

Dorian just nodded and headed off.

Dorian did not bring his car along to find Gisela in the hardest and most hidden places in the city.

As he was walking along the subway...

He found a cying woman.

With hands on her head and her hair covering her face.

Her hairs are tangled and all over the place.

Her skin's full of dirt.

When Dorian tried to look at the woman's face, he was shocked.

It was Gisela.

He brought the woman home and cleaned her up.

She fell asleep crying.

As soon as the woman woke up, she said she's gonna use the toilet.

"You sure you can stand?" Dorian asked. The woman just mindlessly nodded.

Dorian thought to check on Gisela when she's taking too long.

He did not lose hope until this sight.

He found Gisela lying unconsciously on the bathroom floor.

"Gisela!!!" He lifted the woman and brought her to the nearest hospital.

Dorian waited for hours for a doctor to come up to him and say that Gisela's okay.

"A-are you with her?" Dorian nodded as the doctor approached him.

"I'm doctor Ariel James Devant, Psychologist." The doctor introduced himself.

"We did not ask for a Psychologist, we need a Physician to have Gisela checked!!!" Dorian almost lost it.

"She's not physically sick. Not until now. We have pulled up a few counselling records of Gisela. In fact, I was her batchmate in Med-school, she quit and did not finish Med-school. So she just continued being a nurse. Because of her parent's car crash, her parents died in front of her in a car accident. She then became my first patient. I have checked on Gisela a few times and she never went back to the clinic afterwards. She's so indenial that something's physically wrong with her and insistent that she's nearing death, that she shuts down people who wanna have her checked by a professional or by any doctor. She has been diagnosed with constant fear of death that it lead to a severe case of anxiety." Doctor James said.

Dorian was not able to process what's happening and could not speak.

"People who has Thanatophobia, would not like to talk about death for it has caused them depression. On her case, it's different. For that's the only thing she wanna focus and talk about out of fear. Like her whole entire world revolves on the thought that she might, oh sorry, that she 'WILL' die. She already decided that for herself. Anxiety took a toll on her that her brain was mentally pausing because of too much stress, overwhelming worry, overthinking and unshown worry, sometimes this can cause nausea and problems with balancing." The same doctor continued talking.

"Maybe this is the reason why she 'slipped' in the bathroom. She lost consciouness in the bathroom because she might have hit her head on the floor. Now, there's internal bleeding, we need to have an operation ASAP to prevent brain mass. You have to prepare because the operation is risky, after that, she may go under a few days, weeks or even months in coma. Worst case is never to wake up." Another doctor spoke.

"My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is doctor Jessie Ulysis Voltaire. Neurologist and Physicist." He introduced.

After that, they all worked on Gisela's operation.

They spent hours to finish it and what they said was true...

Gisela fell into a coma for weeks now and counting.

Dorian held the woman's hand in his...

He got a Pig and a Dinosaur stuffed-toy that he put on the hospital bed beside her.

"Do you remember this Dear Piggy? You're Dinosaur's here to wake you up. You're my nurse. You shouldn't be lying there for a long time, at that bed. You're supposed to be the one who's taking care of me." Dorian said.

The woman was just unresponsive.

She was still deep asleep.

"You should have told me what you're going through. I should have understand. A-are you punishing me for loving you so much?" He said, sheding tears as he kissed the back of Gisela's hand.

[storiesofwildfire]

📖📷 💋 🔪 💌 💬 💀 (Doesn't all have to be the same verse c: )

{ @lxvingdeadgxrl } || send me a symbol to see what my muse would say about yours – status; accepting

📖 for what my muse would write about yours in their diary. (from the POV of Loki talking to JARVIS to transcribe a recorded diary of sorts)

     “I’m really not even sure what to do anymore, honestly. I know exactly how I feel about Wynter but if I cross that line… Damn. I shouldn’t be worried about crossing lines, should I? I should be worried about how someone else is going to interpret what I’m doing or if it’s wrong. I’ve never cared about that sort of thing with anything else. Hence all those scandals that are written about me in the tabloids and whether or not I’m this, that, or whatever…

     “But with Wynter? I mean, she’s my employee, technically. Even I’ve never crossed that line before. I’ve never slept with someone who works for me, but then again, it’s not about sex with Wyn, is it? No… I want the whole deal. The relationship. The dates. The possibility to get married and have kids someday. I want all that.

     “And yet, I’m so inexperienced with literally all of that. I don’t know what it’s like to date someone and be committed to them. I don’t know what it’s like to love someone and hold onto them for as long as I possibly can. I don’t… get it? More importantly, I don’t think anyone deserves to date someone like me. Gods, that would just make them miserable? That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do to Wyn. She must already be miserable working for me. How could she ever be happy being my girlfriend?

     “I really am in a pickle here, aren’t I? A pickle… who ever says that anymore? What does that even mean?”

📷 for what my muse would say to the paparazzi about yours. (from the POV of Loki being questioned after Cap and her friends go missing)

     “All I can say for certain is that I don’t know where Wynter is. I haven’t had contact with her since her disappearance. I have no information, nor do I have any contact with her. All I know for certain is that you’ve all turned this into a witch hunt. Captain America is a figure to be loved by all, but under that uniform is a person. A good person who always does right by her people. No matter where she is or what she’s doing, I believe in her.” A few reporters tried to get Loki’s attention, but he waved his hand to silence them. “No more questions, please. I have nothing else to say on the matter.”

💋 for what my muse would say to the person trying to woo your muse. (from the POV of Loki out on a date with Wynter)

     “Wow…” Loki murmured, a brow arching in the mortal’s direction as he not only ordered a drink for Wynter, but came up alongside her and leaned against the bar to engage her in conversation. The way his eyes were glued to her chest indicated that he wanted something far more than just a simple, pleasant conversation. “You do realize that she is here with someone, right?”

     “And your point is, pretty boy?” the stranger asked, his eyes only leaving Wyn for a moment to glare at Loki. “Trying to claim her like she belongs to you or something?”

     “No. She doesn’t belong to me. She’s her own person and she doesn’t need me hanging around to prove how wonderful she is. Most of all, she deserves respect and judging by how you’re so keen on treating her like a pair of breasts, you have no respect for her at all.” He took up the drink that the man ordered for her as the bar tender set it down on the bar and sniffed it for a moment. His nose crinkled with displeasure. “And, if you’re really going to try to woo a woman, at least pay for the good liquor,” he added as he reached over and literally dumped the contents onto the shorter man.

🔪 for the eulogy my muse would give for yours. (from the POV of Loki being forced to bury Wynter after Midgard is attacked)

     Mortal ceremonies of death were confusing to Loki. The concept of a typical funeral on Midgard was so vastly different from what he experienced that he didn’t really know what to do, how to present himself, or how to interact with the other people that showed up. All of his friends were there. They traveled all the way from Asgard to help fight Thanos’ attack on Midgard and when Loki’s fiance went down on the battlefield, not a single one of them could bring themselves to leave him.

     In truth, he was thankful for that, because the moment his eyes fell upon her lifeless corpse splattered with her own blood and the blood of her enemies, his entire world shattered. He finally allowed himself to open up to another person, to love and accept love, and now that person who had given him so much was gone. There was nothing he could do to save her, nothing he could do that would bring her back in perfect condition. Any method he had to raise Wynter from the dead wouldn’t truly bring the woman back to life. She’d be a shell of her former self and he just…

     Broke.

     And now all eyes were looking at him to offer some words on Wynter’s behalf. He knew what to say because he felt in his heart everything there was to feel for the woman in the coffin at the head of the room, but he didn’t want to get up in front of all these people. They pitied him or they hated him or they blamed him. More than that, he wasn’t even sure he could speak. His voice left him the day Wynter died, hardly able to bring himself to say a word. 

     Slowly, he pulled himself to the small podium in front of the open casket. He paused near the edge of her coffin just so he could look down at her. She… looked like she was sleeping, more than anything, but that just made his heart ache more. 

     “I… I don’t really know what to say,” he started as he finally stood in front of the podium and rested his hands on it. “Normally, I never have an issue finding words. I can talk circles around just about everyone and everything, but now… I have so much to say but no voice to say it with.” And he wasn’t entirely wrong. His voice was quite and weak, hardly audible to the people in the back of the room. 

     “The woman behind me was the most important person in my life and she died protecting her home, her people, and people she didn’t even know. She died alongside heroes who will never be as much of a hero as she is. When I first met Wynter, I thought that I could just get to know her and hope to use her as some sort of ally, but it quickly became evident to me that nothing in the world would ever matter as much as she did. I never knew a single person more loving, forgiving, understanding, and passionate as Wynter. She held so much power and had so many opportunities to let darkness consume her, but never once did she fall from grace. She deserved better than this. She deserves to be here right now, celebrating with us in our victory instead of moving on to the next life. She…”

     For most of his little speech, his voice had been low and quiet, but it was steady. Now, however, tears finally flooded his eyes. The reality of the situation had been on his shoulders since the moment he saw her body but now it hit him like a thousand of Thor’s hammers at once. Loki would never see Wynter again and he would likely live for thousands of years knowing that he couldn’t save her. Why did this keep happening to the people that he loved so much? 

     “I’m sorry… I can’t…” 

     Loki didn’t say another word before Fandral, the blonde scoundrel that Loki once harbored so much affection for, leaped to his feet and went to Loki’s side. He wrapped an arm around Loki and pulled him to his side. “I think Loki’s been through enough. Perhaps someone else has some kind words for our beloved Wynter?” the swordsman said to the crowd before slowly pulling Loki away from the podium and the casket. Loki, in his sorrow and his tears, couldn’t even begin to form a protest, so he stepped away with Fandral.

💌 for a letter my muse would write to yours. (from the POV of Loki being too damned shy to as Cap out on a date)

Dear Wynter,

     Or Wyn… Or Cap…

     I don’t want to sound too formal, but now I just sound like an idiot. Wow, okay, maybe I should have just done this in person. But I would have looked like an idiot then too. Okay, let me just cut to the chase and make this short since, apparently, I can’t do anything right.

     Will you have dinner with me tonight? Not dinner-to-discuss-business. Not super-hero stuff. Just you. Me. A quiet little restaurant and a bottle or two of champagne? What do you say, Spangles?

💬 for a text my muse would send to yours to a third party. (from the POV of Fandral texting Loki about hooking up with him and Wynter… Again)

[ text; Fandral the Dashing Scoundrel ]; Honestly, Fan, I don’t know if Wynter’s going to be interested in doing something like that again or not. I’d have to ask her.[ text; Fandral the Dashing Scoundrel ]; I do know that she enjoyed herself a great deal but I don’t know that she’ll want to make it a regular thing, you know?[ text; Fandral the Dashing Scoundrel ]; If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re trying to steal her from me. That’s really rude and you absolutely cannot have her.

💀 for what my muse would say upon hearing about your muse’s death. (from the POV of Loki finding out the Cap died on one of her assignments)

     “That’s… not funny, Nat…” Loki murmured, but Natasha, despite her sarcastic nature and the way she teased just about everyone, was dead serious about this. The assassin’s eyes reflected pain and deep sorrow, but she was firm and hard as she gazed at Loki, silently reassuring him that he words were not only true but the very fabric of reality. 

     “Oh my Gods, I… How?” That was all he could say, really, as that dreaded numbness spread from the reactor in his chest and down through his limbs. It wasn’t that he didn’t have more to say, the Avenger was just in shock and he couldn’t quite process the idea that Captain America–no, that Wynter, his friend, was dead and gone.

     “What the Hel are we going to do, Nat? How can we even… go on? Why are we still here if she’s not? That’s not… that’s not right…”

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

NOTES: Time to move forward with the plot. I know it probably seemed like there was barely any plot, just fluff-fodder, but I swear I was building to this all along! Really!

"You seem a little distracted."

Looking up from my bongos, I blinked at Steph for a few seconds. "Was I not playing my part? I thought it sounded… like the song. Y'know."

"It's not that. You just aren't focused." Putting down her zither, she picked up her aloe drink and chugged it for a minute. I tried not to make a face of pure disgust. "Like, I can sense it even though you're playing fine, if that makes sense."

"What, with my chakras or some shit?" But again, she was impervious to my acidity. "Fine. But I don't wanna talk about it."

"You and Knives?"

"Don't wanna talk about it."

"How's that going?"

Sighing, I ran my hand down my face and gritted my teeth against my irritation. I knew by now that yelling at Steph to shut the fuck up and leave me alone made little difference. But to be honest, I was in a good enough place with Knives that I wasn't even that irritated.

"Nice. Now, can we get back to practice?"

"I thought you were worried about, like… the lesbian thing."

"Not really. Just…" Should I tell her about Knives? It didn't seem right, for reasons previously stated; that was Knives' information to share as she saw fit. Maybe she wouldn't care, but maybe she would. You never can tell how people will react; I couldn't even tell how I would react before I was told. I decided it was easier, safer, to maintain my vow of silence. "I dunno. It's good. She's really…" I ran out of words.

"Good? Nice?" My grumpy face turned grumpier. "It's okay, I just like seeing you doing better."

"Better than what?"

Another of her usual casual shrugs. "Before."

"Fine." Then I threw my bongos aside and stood, glaring at my current bandmate. "She's great. She's completely changing how I see life. Everything is perfect, especially her. Birds suddenly appear every time that she's near, alright? Fuck."

"Saying that in a sarcastic tone doesn't necessarily mean that it's not true." But I ignored her and went off to pee.

While I was in there, I came to a sudden realisation. Knives wasn't just a girl, wasn't just my girlfriend. Wasn't just a trans girl, either, whatever that meant; I was still kind of working my way through that along with the 'girlfriend' part. It hit me that she was just about every letter in the ever-expanding LGBTQIPA acronym, if you looked at it all in certain ways. Lesbian, for dating me. Gay, for being a person with a dick who didn't mind dating people with dicks — and I know it's not the same, but the sex would be. Bi, for dating me and Scott. The "T" is obvious. Queer because she's more than one letter, since that's kind of what that means as far as I can tell; it's the "gray area" checkbox. Maybe not the "I", since I'm fuzzy on that one, but if she was that would be cool, too. And as for the A…

Okay, so I did some reading at the library. I don't have internet at home, so I go there for email, to print resumes, boring crap like that. But I also have been doing a lot of research there lately. About Knives, about me… about all of this. Trying to wrap my head around a lot of new concepts that are still space alien type shit to me. And the "A" seems to stand for "asexual", which… I was starting to wonder if that was Knives. Or me, even, since I've gone without for a LONG fucking time and didn't really care until I connected with her. Maybe I do care more now. But she's fine if we don't bang, and thought humping my leg was good enough.

So like… I guess what I'm saying is, I'm trying to get comfortable with the idea that she might never want to have any sex. Or not a lot, or not for a while. Somewhere in there. If me literally getting naked in the kitchen — which, in Wallace's battle plans, sends the message that I'm dessert — didn't faze her, then maybe nothing would. And that's alright if it's what she wants. God will I be thirsty, but I'd rather just buy a new vibrator than ever make her uncomfortable again. It's the same shit in the end, right? If she was a normal- wait, no, wrong word. If she was a cis woman, then we'd be buying vibes, anyway. Acting all personally offended that she doesn't want to use a dick I didn't know existed a couple weeks ago to part my pussy lips doesn't seem like a wise use of my energy, does it?

Anyway, the point here is, I was realising that Knives Chau was all of those things, and she was also some kind of Chinese ninja, a college student, way too good at Mario Party, and an adorable little bean that could almost always find a way to stay positive. She was special in about a dozen ways. On top of being hot. And for whatever reason, she wanted to be with me.

Why would anyone like her settle for some failed musician, some misanthropic pessimist?

Someone who could come so close to hurting her just because of a little alcohol?

So when I came back out of the bathroom, I looked about as shaken as I did when I went in. I wasn't crying this time, thank God, but I was stumbling and distracted. Not long passed before Steph came over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder to hold me still.

"Kim… what's up? Seriously, this has to be more than just worrying about being gay."

"Not gay. Bi. Probably. I don't know." Then I cleared my throat. "I want to be… fuck, nevermind."

"Come on, Pine. Out with it."

Another minute of silence passed. I expected her to roll her eyes and walk away, annoyed at me for not responding. She didn't; she just fixed me with an expectant look. Finally, I blurted, "She deserves better than me."

"What?"

"I suck. Even when I'm trying, I'm pathetic. This girl is so…" I wasn't used to praising people. At all. "Good. She's everything that's good, Steph. And I'm everything that's not."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking, before she asked, "You're worried about disappointing her, aren't you?"

"Worried? No. That would imply that I thought it might not happen. It's a matter of when."

"Kim…"

"No, Steph. I'm a frigid bitch and… she should find someone else who knows how to have 'fun' like she wants. Who can do this right instead of blundering around in the dark. But how do you tell somebody they need to go the fuck away for their own good without making them feel like it's their fault instead? Because I can't hurt her. That's not allowed."

"Hey." Her face was full of pity, and I hated it, I wanted to deck her to the floor to keep that look from existing. Wanted to deck myself, but that's pretty hard to do. "You're not a bad person."

"Yes, I am."

"You are n-"

This time, I did push her away, backing toward the front door. My heart was pounding a million times a minute, and I wanted to scream a million things, but they were mostly at myself and she didn't deserve that headache.

"I'm gonna split. See you later."

She was trying to tell me something as I left, but I blocked it out, I ran. All I could see was the pity in her eyes, the pity in my girlfriend's when she saw how guilty I felt about Julie's aunt's. I wanted to drink to forget, but I couldn't let myself get that drunk ever again. What if next time, I did something worse? I'd be no better than the guys I had dumped who got too handsy.

I'd be no better than the guys who dumped her for something she had no control over. Who didn't see just how great she was.

Halfway to the bus stop, I collapsed. Curled into a ball on the grass and cried, but it wasn't the same kind of cry. This was… something else. I don't know, but I wanted all the pain to end. Sure, I wanted to be better, but I didn't see a way to make that happen, so I just wanted it all to be over. For Knives to find someone who could treat her like a star, give her moonbeams in a jar, and to forget about that asshole she briefly thought was "cool".

Which all sounds way over the top and emo. I know. My brain couldn't quite process that I was in love with her and that was why I wanted to give her everything. Guess one of the shapes love can take is self-destruction.

                                              ~ o ~

Young Neil was the one who found me and brought me back to the Nordegraf home. He was walking home from the bus stop, so of course we would cross paths. When he first saw a statue curled up on the grass, he probably thought somebody had really fucking odd taste in lawn ornaments. But I mean, he hung around with Sex Bob-omb while we practiced for a long time; he recognised my face. Then somehow managed to drag me the couple of blocks back to her house from there.

Steph was still shocked when she saw me as a stone figure again, despite it being the second time. She called Stephen, who came over right away with one of those bottles of Soft. But this time…

"It didn't work."

That was all he could manage to say at first, eyes round and jaw agape. Steph and Neil had been pacing back and forth behind him, but once he said that she bent down and squinted at my face. "Shit."

"This… I don't know, why didn't it work? Wake up, wake up, wake UP!" He punctuated the last part by slapping my face, which I couldn't feel. "OW!"

"Don't be dumb!" Steph hissed, standing back from my perch on the couch. "What do we do?"

"No idea, but we can't leave her like this forever, right? I mean… look how upset she was, look at her eyes!"

Neil shrugged as they panicked. "Didn't you say this happened before?"

"It did, but we had Soft, and we got to her quicker," Steph told him, smoothing her hand over my hair. Just as unyielding as the rest of my body. "It was about two hours after she left here that you found her, I think…"

"Shit," Stephen breathed, hand pressed into his mouth. "This is a nightmare."

"We have to call Knives. I mean, she's really important to Kim now, we can't-"

"Knives?" Neil whispered, shocked out of his usual silence. "Oh…"

Both of them looked toward him, but it was Stephen who snapped, "What? This isn't as important as whatever your deal with her was, is that it?"

"N-nah, nevermind. Just call her." He sounded faintly embarrassed, but I couldn't see him from my vantage point so I didn't have the visuals to confirm that.

So they called Knives. Now I felt even worse than I did before. The whole reason I was a statue in the first place was because of my guilt over not being able to give Knives everything she deserved, and now here I was putting her through an even worse ordeal. Along with all of my friends. I used to really think that everyone else was the problem, that they all just sucked. But it was me. I'm the weakest link in the chain.

I heard some pleasantries exchanged at the door, quick ones due to the crisis. Once Knives got to the living room, she gasped and put a hand over her mouth.

"Yeah. We don't really have an idea of what else to do." Glancing over at Stephen, who only shook his head, Steph shrugged and went on, "You probably don't, either, but… we thought you should at least be here."

"Thanks for calling. God… my poor Kim…" She dropped to her knees next to the couch and caressed my face, and I would have given anything to actually be able to feel it. "And you said Soft didn't work? I have more…"

Stephen shook his head. "Don't know, but it really seems like it doesn't. We can try another bottle but I hate to waste it if this time we know it's not going to work…"

"Do we, though? Do we know it won't work?" Steph's hands were on her hips as she glanced between the two of them. "Seriously, I'll dump a dozen bottles on her head if it's going to do the job."

"No… I think I know what we need. Do you see that?" Her finger was pointing to my stomach, just barely revealed by my shirt riding up before it turned to stone along with the rest of me. "That's the key."

Everyone watched Knives stand up after that announcement. Including me, since I really didn't have any choice but to watch, given that my eyes were frozen open by concrete. After a few seconds, Neil hesitantly asked, "Um… what?"

"We need to go see my father."

                                              To Be Continued…