#i have said in places where they can all see that i am isolating myself again. they dont give a shit

[ghostcrows]

that damn web comic is rattling around in my brain ...

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

INTERLUDE: this is why we can't have nice things.

— the one where everybody's waiting to see the fall out.

warnings: this is basically like the INTRO chapter with all media, we're going to pretend publications and broadcast timings are not mistaken or fake, okay? ok. am i myself if i don't mention taylor swift in every chapter? no. foul language.

masterlist ✢ next

By Tom Gill // June 23rd

Vic Presley confirms y/n hasn't reached out to her even after Vic called asked her to in a publication a few days ago.

"I think she has blocked my number by now," Presley said, "I am devastated by this. I didn't think it was like her to discard relationships so easily."

Presley and y/ln have been friends since 2020, when they met at the opening of the SENSE Club in downtown Los Angeles and quickly became inseparable.

"y/n really was— is my best friend. I miss her and I want her to come back to me."

Vic Presley also commented on y/n's split from Aidan Kim in her own way: "I hate that she hurt Aidan. I was not aware they had so many problems, that's definitely the kind of stuff you tell your best friend."

y/n was spotted just a week ago with alleged (and constantly denied) boyfriend, Charles Leclerc on a stroll around Central Park. Victoria Presley couldn't help but speak her mind on this.

"y/n has changed so much since she met that guy. I met him in Miami and Monaco, he's not one of the good ones. He's managing to isolate her from everyone who loves her."

Once again, Victoria urges y/n to contact her so they can rekindle their friendship. "I am not angry at her, disappointed maybe. But I will always have my arms open for her."

SEE ALSO:

→ Victoria Presley and Mia Kim collab in new project promoting Presley Beauty.

→ y/n y/ln, a disaster waiting to happen.

→ Aidan Kim is 'almost done' with debut solo album

By Paul Dean // June 28th

Aidan Kim has been in the spotlight since 2012, when he debuted as a member of boyband phenomenon Star-5 with their hit single "End Of The Day". After the band's dissolution in late 2018 due to creative differences between the members and rumored jealousy disputes that included Aidan himself, the Korean-American superstar decided to pursue a career in acting, in aims of expanding his horizons.

'Supercut' in 2019 was the start of a a succesful career followed by '1922' (2021) and 'Conversations with Friends' (2022) plus the series 'Crimes of the Academy' (2022) before Netflix decided to cancel it.

While it is true that 'Supercut' was a box office hit and sent Aidan Kim and co-star—and former partner—into a whole new level of stardom, Aidan Kim might be regretting ever making that movie.

"Supercut holds a special place in my heart," Aidan commented, politely. "It was my first real movie." Of course Aidan doesn't count the "3D Concert Experience" he starred with his other four bandmates as a real movie. "But I carry the consequences of making Supercut with me to this day."

The whole world is aware of such consequences, as y/n y/ln is keen on having the last word when it comes to the breakup from Kim. It wasn't enough to leave him humiliated by turning his marriage proposal down.

"Someone was looking out for me that night, I think," Aidan has tried his best to let go of such bitter memories by turning them into something positive. "At the end of the day, I'm glad y/n said no. I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with her. You're witnessing how unstable she is."

"It's quite shocking honestly," Aidan Kim didn't expect his ex-girlfriend to act like this. "I helped her however I could. Talked to producers, casting agents and journalists to give her a shot. And she says I never did anything for her."

Kim couldn't help but take the chance to refer to his ex's new lover: "But I've moved on. And I hope she does the same soon. If I were Charles Leclerc, I'd be worried my new girlfriend is thinking about her ex-boyfriend so often."

Lastly, Aidan teased his upcoming album, "I've worked very hard on it. I missed making music and I hope you'll like this new sound I'm trying after leaving Star-5's commercial music behind."

"The thing about music, is that it lets you tell your side of the story too. I hope you support a man doing this the same way you root for Taylor Swift, because double-standards are so 'in' right now."

SEE ALSO:

→ Mia Kim, the talented sister of Aidan Kim, set to make big screen debut.

→ Were Mia Kim and Victoria Presley mocking y/n y/ln in new Youtube Video?

→ Mia Kim: "y/n should have kept her mouth shut, there's still shit to be exposed about her."

FROM THE DREW BARRYMORE SHOW — JULY 6TH

[Y/N]: ❝(...) What matters to me right now, is that people now I am nothing of what they're calling me. I am not perfect, nobody is. But I have never cheated on a partner or used someone else as a 'toy' and most importantly, I built my own career.❞

[Y/N]: ❝It gets exhausting, you hear things about yourself you never even thought possible. It could be laughable if it wasn't so cruel❞

[Y/N]: ❝My relationship ended in February, but I believe it was over way before that. I acted in a way that was not fair to my ex-partner nor to myself, and I expressed my regrets about it. He had the right to not accept my apology, but not to make stuff up about the whole situation.❞

[Y/N]: ❝He's feeding his ego, he's a man, after all. But doing it at the expense of my work and my reputation is disgusting. I want one producer or casting agent to come forward and say they gave me a role thanks to my ex-boyfriend's input, just one.❞

[Y/N]: ❝I have surrounded myself with different people. They have been a great support system, always motivating me, and holding me back when I'm about to do something stupid. This also means I have left some people out of what's going on with me, and it's for the best.❞

[Y/N]: ❝Taylor Swift, bless her soul, has given me a lot of advice. She's the sweetest person ever and since the same guy that is trying to drag me has gone after her in a few interviews, she wants this to be over as much as I do. I think he made a mistake by messing with Taylor too.❞

[Y/N]: ❝Rumors will keep running, but I am finally at peace with knowing who I am and who I can trust. But those 'sources' should know my patience is running out.❞

By Jenny Highland // July 20th

Mia Kim and Victoria Presley are the hottest topic right now, but not for the reasons both influencers wish, as they are in trouble!

Both Los Angeles locals have received a 'Cease and Desist' letter from recovering actress y/n y/ln this week, per her team's advice. This was confirmed by both Presley and Kim on Twitter, saying they are 'flabbergasted' that y/n is accusing them of defamation.

While y/n is far from gaining her place back in the public's heart, we are not blind to what Victoria and Mia have done for the past month, riding the wave to get views and followers talking about their shared time with y/n. Who has every right to ask them to stop, as she has done in several interviews throughout the month.

For many people, this makes it more evident that it was either Presley or Kim who contacted tabloids to get their five minutes of fame and sink y/n deeper.

Actions have consequences for everyone, and if y/n decided to pick this fight at this point in her downfall/rerise/wherever it is that we are with her, it's because she knows she can win, right?

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for reading! please let me know your thoughts! I know I'm ending your patience with this slow burn thing but I promise you we're getting there! Charles is back next chapter and you'll see haha. again, your interactions mean the world to me and i'm sorry if sometimes i don't reply to your comments, i'm just awkward but i love you all♡❞

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[dyemelikeasunset]

Feeling a whole lot of emotions right now, but the good kind. I found Dom and Mor through a Tumblr poll about webcomics, and decided to read through it — as a gnc lesbian I loved seeing the characters and their relationship and your really cool artstyle. But when I got to one of your notes at the end of an instalment, where you wished everyone Eid Mubarak and said something like ‘we made it’, my heart felt like it stopped. Maybe it’s just because I’m not old enough to have moved out of my parent’s house and so never really had the chance to express myself without worrying about what my small town community will tell them, but… oh man, as you probably know, being Muslim and queer can be so isolating sometimes, since some people in both communities will think that those two parts of your identity contract themselves when they… don’t, of course. It makes me so indescribably happy to know that there is someone like me out there — who is celebrating Eid, has a wife, and creates beautiful art that showcases queer characters. I knew that logically there must be other queer Muslims out there, but I’d only ever heard of them in the context of them being imprisoned or shunned. It means so, so much to me that you chose to be open with all of this online, because it really makes me feel, in a way that not many other things can, that people like me do get to be happy, do get to be themselves… and it makes me believe that maybe one day I will have that too. Thank you, I guess, is what I’m trying to say, for showing me that I’m not alone. It really means a lot. Being open online can incite harassment, I def know, but thank you for choosing to do so. Of course you don’t do it for thanks, but it has really meant a lot to me, just to see someone else like me out there :). I hope that you’re having a blessed Ramadan and that you have a lovely Eid!

The reason I chose to be open about it online is pointedly because I have been in such a similar spot as you. When I was young, the isolation and existential loneliness was almost unbearable. Then as a young adult, most of the other queer Muslims I met were so entrenched in their own traumas that our bonds were mainly over our shared pain. As I've grown, I realized that yes, there comes a time to talk about being queer and muslim and how those things deserve a place in the world together, but more than that I want to be open, loud, and casual about who I am. So many other identities are allowed that normalcy-- I want to be that, and I can't bear to be quiet about it anymore

I'm happy my work and elements of my life were able to reach you. You're not alone-- and a casual, integrated, peaceful life as a queer muslim is absolutely possible. I hope you're able to find your version of that someday in the future

I hope the rest of Ramadan also treats you well!

[saccharinescorpion]

oh christ i typed up way too many thoughts about the Teal Mask story

spoilers of course

TO BEGIN WITH literally everything here has a big ol’ asterisk with “subject to change” attached to it, i was surprised at how much of a “to be continued” ending the main story had and i’m trying not to get my hopes too high for Indigo Disk, but wowzers

Carmine’s line about tourism… i have a lot of feelings, but the one looming over my head like a fucking sword of Damocles is “did the writers not intend this to have as much weight as i am ascribing to it lmao” because it’s only the one line and GOD i don’t want to be the “reading too much into stories for babies” person all the time but!! But!!!!

(recalls the scene where Nemona talks to you about feeling isolated because of her talent and recalls my feeling of “why was this only in one scene where she flatout looks at the camera and says this”)

well even if it’s not supposed to be “that” important-

1) sure makes the TCG Tournament in Hawaii feel even more bitterly ironic lmao (obligatory yes i know the game writers are not responsible for most stuff that happens in the wider franchise i’m just SAYING it’s ironic)

2) GOSH it sure does make those ugly jokes people kept making about Carmine even grosser than they already were (if you don’t know what i’m talking about, Don’t Worry About It)

As someone on twitter said it feels weird to have this sort of plot point after not exploring it at all in the game with the Hawaii analogue. at the same time i do have to wonder if it was a response to working on those games and doing some thinking. Who can say

God ALL of that was for one line

KIERAN!! Okay, i know i’ve been giving Kieran a lot of shit but his plot progression is genuinely very compelling. recent games have been exploring the “rival who feels inadequate” type of character but this is the first time one has gone off the deep end like this, and i really hope they push it into interesting places

Cutesy shy “oh gosh oh wowzers” pre-development Kieran… in the end i did feel a bit charmed by how sincere he is for the record!

but also i’m genuinely so glad he ended up having Inner Darkness lol

Sorry Kieran i just don’t like it when it feels like the writer is trying way too hard to make me say “i want to protect you”

By extension sorry Wally lmao because he really was the ancestor of this type in the Pokemon franchise

I tried not to take the fact that i really didn’t want the damn Ogerpon too personally lol, this is one of those moments where i really had to force myself to step back and remember that these games are not for me, they are for tiny children who often really do buy into the Gotta Catch Em All thing and probably felt some genuine inner turmoil at this

But god like, please. I have my giant puppy lizard who makes vroom vroom noises. Ogerpon you are so cute but we can never have the bond i have with my bike

Kieran falling to his knees after the last battle genuinely got me, so did him punching the shrine even with the dumb “owie ><” gag afterwards

OKAY talking about the battles damn Kieran and Carmine were tough opponents i had to try Kieran’s last fight like three times (admittedly because i was using my weaker Kitakami team but STILL)

Kieran feeling bad for the ogre was projecting “THIS CHARACTER FEELS LIKE AN OUTCAST” and i picked that up loud and clear, and that was good, but i wish they actually… made him seem like an outcast?

Don’t get me wrong, Kieran definitely has self-confidence issues, issues with talking to others, anxiety issues (possibly), and that can easily make someone feel like an outcast

But i feel like there’s a big difference between that and someone (Ogerpon and her trainer) who is actively shunned and mistreated by the people around them, and i was really hoping for that from Kieran

It’s just the Pokemon thing of finding it hard to depict people really being actively malicious (see Penny and Team Star’s bullies and their enablers all doing their thing off-screen and then leaving off-screen)

But it’s doubly weird because they didn’t have much issue with showing characters in this story being terrible (Carmine)

Carmine!!! Her terribleness was genuinely so entertaining, a lot of the time i was simultaneously laughing and thinking “oh people are going to be SO mad”

But real talk for all my love of Girls Who Suck i do actually kind of get where some people are coming from, she is genuinely very abrasive and unpleasant at times, and though i don’t agree at least i can tell where the character hate is stemming from (unlike some of the absolute batshit stuff i saw about Geeta and Nemona, don’t get me staaaarted)

And speaking of… okay i feel like i’m pushing it even talking about this but i feel it would be dishonest to pretend that i’m not thinking about it

SOOOO the “it’s not like i hit him” line… another case of “did the writers intend this to be as big as it is in my mind,” combined with uhhh writers from a different generation than me, let’s say

For now i will interpret that at face value, but like… damn, i don’t think that reads as you want it to especially in a Pokemon game

Carmine pleaseeeeeee say you’re sorry to Kieran in Indigo Disk please please please i know she apologized for leaving him in the dark but my dearest dream is for her to apologize for being so mean to him all the time. she needs to just treat him better in general. please i will forgive Kieran having to apologize for taking the mask if we can do this please

I know i know cultural differences but we already had Clavell apologize for the failures of the school system, this isn’t THAT big of  a stretch

I am genuinely curious if Indigo Disk will pull a reverse plot twist and reveal Ogerpon’s trainer to be a bad person or reveal that he was the one to attack the Loyal Three first because if not DAMN we’re just going to have some flat out evil Pokemon? that we can potentially put on a team with Ogerpon?????

Ogerpon is a silly lil girl :)

I still haven’t done Perrin’s plot lol

[drasticemotions]

yall im saying fuck it n face revealing cause I still haven’t recovered from my photo op with jared and I just have to share it on a place where I know it’ll be appropriately respected and so I can finally yap about my full experience with j2

so hey dats me

I died dead

I refuse to believe that that is actually me in the photo cause what do you mean?? I was in jarpads arms??

He was so nice I was low-key losing my shit after meeting Jensen, we took the photo with him first (just a normal side hug with me and my sister on each side) and exiting that going straight in line for Jared. I was shaking there was a pause in the line for a bit and then Jensen just appeared next to me??? Walking past and I was just confused Pikachu looking back and forth across the room to my sister and back to Jensen, I didn’t have my phone on me and didn’t know what to do cause he just appeared (all he did was walk past but that’s enough for me).

Anyway I was very much shaking and was so nervous, I felt like I looked like a wreck and didn’t know how the photo was gonna go since ahbl12 was my first con, but guys I shit you not it became my turn and I stared right into this gorgeous man’s eyes said hi…I think I blacked out cause he had his arms slightly opened and I just walked into them, I genuinely don’t remember what happened I think my eyes started watering cause it was such a genuine hug and just looked at the camera and smiled.

I don’t think I could’ve ever asked for a better photo I’m so genuinely happy in that moment and life has been a lot as of late and it felt like that all disappeared, I don’t usually smile with my teeth showing anymore but it just appeared naturally, Jared is such a genuinely great guy and I’m so glad I leaped at the chance of getting the ticket and going.

He was so incredibly nice at the autographs too, Jensen as well but I could tell both of them were absolutely beat they looked so tired, Jensen is intimidating and I was rendered speechless when I got him to sign my Dean funko pop, I was also the only one in line everyone else at that point was waiting in Jared’s line so I felt extremely isolated and awkward 🫣 like what do I do what do I say. Jared I gained some of that courage back and went for it, I was able to thank him for just generally being amazing and how much meeting him meant for me, which I haven’t really told anyone it feels like one of those moments I just had to keep to myself. He put his hand on his heart and I didn’t wanna get in trouble for continuing on so I wished him a good night and left. I don’t know how I got through the day without crying (I am a very emotional person especially when it comes to my fandoms), I cried in the hotel room after lmao

It was really just the best day ever and I’d do it a million times over. I rightfully have that photo on fucking everything, I won’t shut up about this until the next con and even then I still won’t shut up about it. Just meeting the cast and doing something like this, I’ve wanted to do something not even relating to supernatural but just conventions themselves seem like some of the coolest things to be able to attend (America obviously having the better half of that spectrum over Australia but I’ll take what I can get).

I will hopefully be back next year to see Misha and Jensen, if my bank account doesn’t run away from me

[jpmarvel90]

Mr Tin Man

Masterlist Scarlett Masterlist

Relationship: Scarlett x Singer Reader

Summary: Y/n and Scarlett broke up when their relationship couldn't over come the difficulties both of their careers posed. Both realising what they're missing, can they find their way back to each other?

Word Count: 4354

Y/N’s POV:

It had been a year since Scarlett Johansson, and I had broken up. She was the love of my life, the woman I thought I would marry, have kids, and spend the rest of my life with. But life had other plans. It wasn’t a messy break up. No one cheated or fell out of love. We were both just in a point in our life where our careers were restricting us being able to spend quality time together. We were right for each other but it wasn’t the right time.

So, although it broke our hearts, we decided the best thing was to end it before we got bitter and angry at each other. We agreed to stay friends, but I was heart broken and any time we spent together felt like a dagger to my heart knowing that I would never have her again. As time went on, our work schedules made even meeting up as friends difficult and we eventually stopped seeing each other.

Whilst Scarlett was away filming a number of Marvel films, I had been completing my latest album followed by a world tour. I didn’t deal with the breakup well at all. I started to isolate myself and focus all my efforts on work. As time went on, I started to fall into a depression. I struggled to do the simple things and, without realising it, I had let own selfcare go. I was struggling to sleep and was not eating well. But I couldn’t see it.

The world tour was tough. We had so many shows, it felt like we were constantly travelling to the next venue. Although, at the time, I was happy as it meant I was never on my own too long with my own feelings, it took a toll on me.

Eventually I broke. I felt like I couldn’t go on anymore as I had. I was so unhappy and  I had lost all motivation to continue writing and I just didn’t see a way out of my darkness. The day after we landed back in LA, I had a meeting with my team to discuss what I would be doing next. I turned up at the office sat down and listened as they ran off a list of possible projects I could work on whilst starting another album.

“I think I’m done.” I spoke up when they finished their proposals. “Sorry, what do you mean Y/n?” Laura, my manager asked with a concerned look on her face. “I can’t carry on doing this. I used to love singing and performing, but now I feel that I’ve created a world where I no longer have control. A world where I’m unhappy, losing the people I love.” There was a silence in the room as I spoke. Shook was evident on all of my teams faces.

“I think for now, I need to take at least take a break. Refocus my life as I feel like I am losing myself. Maybe I’ll find the passion again to come back, but right now, if I carry on, I’m scared it will destroy me.” I was struggling to keep control of my emotions. It was sat here that I realised just how lost I had gotten and how deep I had fallen into a depression.

I was expecting my team to challenge me back, encourage me to do one more project, one more album. But they didn’t. As I observed their faces, they looked sad, they pitied me. Laura gave the rest of the team a signal to leave us as she stood to join me on the sofa. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that.” She said taking my hand in hers.

I looked up at her shocked at her response. “What do you mean?” I asked with a confused look on my face. “Y/n, first and foremost you are my friend before my client. I’m angry at myself that it took me nearly a year to realise how much you were struggling. But when I did, I was scared that you would push yourself too hard and to a place you wouldn’t find your way back from.” As she spoke, I looked at her face, it was soft and loving, giving me comfort.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked. She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. “I considered it a lot. But I was scared that I would push you away to a point I wouldn’t be able to help you. I decided to monitor you during the last concerts and then bring it up with you when we got home.” I nodded, understanding her reasoning. She was right, I probably would have lashed out and pushed her away.

“What do you think you’ll do next?” She asked with genuine interest. “Not sure, maybe move back home to the UK, though my friends are all here. I don’t really have family back there anymore. But first I think I need to just work on me. Try and focus on getting my head and health right. Then I can think what next.” I was proud of myself that I was recognising I needed help and part of that was putting me first.

“I think that’s a very mature decision. Just know, I will be here for you every step of the way. You need anything, you just let me know, in work or your personal life ok.” I smiled as she spoke and pulled her in to a big hug. Suddenly I relief had washed over me. “I’ll put out a press release this afternoon to announce that you’ll be taking a prolonged break for personal reasons. I know you hate the press prying, so the soon we get this done, the quicker it’ll be over with and you’ll be old news.���

I nodded in agreement. I knew I wouldn’t be able to just slip away from the limelight, it would create a worse reaction with rumours and the paparazzi chasing me around trying to work out what was going on. I knew these next few weeks would be difficult, but I was finally doing what was right for me.

After a couple of months, the attention on me had died down, and I was able to focus on getting myself in a better place. I still was struggling mental, but I was taking better care of myself. I made sure I was eating properly and started to work out again. It actually became a good release for me when I was feeling overwhelmed.

I had decided that I wanted to buy a bar. I wanted to create a place where I could have live music, giving up coming acts a chance to perform. It took about a month, but I did it. I helped me to focus on something positive. I spent the time sorting out exactly what I wanted the bar to be and was so happy to be opening ‘Spotlight’.

It proved to be a great success. Every Friday and Saturday night I would be at full capacity. We had some fantastic bands and artists perform and even had a few of them be signed up from gigs at the bar. I spent most evenings there waiting behind the bar. I found a peace in the change of pace to what my life had been.

Eventually I started writing music again and would do a small set every Thursday before one of the main acts would play. Without the pressure of writing to deadlines and performing endless concerts, I found the passion again for what I had once loved.

It was now 15 months since Scarlett and I broke up. I was in a place that my career didn’t dictate where I would be or what I would be doing. I considered contacting her, I missed her in my life. Not just as my girlfriend, but as my best friend. But before I could, I saw that she had started dating Colin Jost from SNL. She was happy now and I didn’t want to ruin that for her.

I still felt the heart ache, I knew it would never truly leave, as to me she was my soulmate. But I didn’t let that pain drown me anymore. Perhaps one day I might be able to move on myself. But for now, I think I’m happy.

Scarlett’s POV:

I was a complete mess when Y/n and I broke up. To this day I regret ever suggesting that maybe we just weren’t right for each other due to our careers. I don’t think I have ever loved anyone as much as I loved her. The little time we did spend together was incredible. I couldn’t be happier. Now I’m just sad all the time. Thankfully I’m filming three Marvel films pretty close together so I’m able to throw myself into work.

I kept my eye on what Y/n was doing and even went to her concert when she visited Atlanta. I so badly wanted to call her up and say I wanted to see her. But I didn’t, scared that she would just reject me after I broke her heart.

I’m currently sat in my trailer dealing with work emails when Lizzie comes bursting through my door. “There’s a thing called knocking you know!” I scold towards her as she plonks herself on the sofa opposite me, out of breath. “Oh, come on, it’s not like I would have walked in on anything I shouldn’t.” She responded. I didn’t have the energy to argue so I just let it be.

“So, what’s so urgent that it would cause you to disturb me like this?” I asked, still typing away on my laptop. “Y/n.” She said simply. I stopped what I was doing at the sound of her name. “What about her?” I ask moving to join Lizzie on the sofa. “She’s quit. Well, taking a break, from music.” She rushed out. I sat there in shock my brain going into overdrive. “Just look.” She said thrusting her phone in my direction.

News Article:

Y/n Y/l/n quits!

Y/l/n manager today released a press release announcing that the singer will be taking a step back from her rising music career due to personal reasons. She confirmed that no further information was going to be provided, but added that Y/l/n was extremely grateful for the opportunities she had been given and hoped that one day she may return.

After a successful album release and world tour there has been speculation over why the singer has decided to quit, with many of her fans concerned for her wellbeing. So why has the singer ended her dazzling career which was reaching new heights? Keep tuned for more.

I read the article in complete shock. I couldn’t believe it. Y/n had worked so hard to get where she was. It was one of the things I loved about her, how she had a determination reach her dreams. Looking through the photos of her, I saw how different she looked. Her usually toned body was skinny and her skin was pasty. In one photo where she wasn’t wearing sunglasses you could see clearly that she had dark circles under her eyes.

“Do you think she’s sick? I mean look at the photos, she doesn’t exactly look well.” Lizzie said breaking the silence. I noticed that she also had a concerned look on her face. Lizzie and Y/n were close but after the breakup their friendship started to fade. “I don’t know, maybe? It would make sense. Oh, God what if it’s something serious.” I start to work myself up in a panic now convinced that she was seriously ill and that was why she had quit.

As my breathing started to pick up Lizzie noticed and pulled me so that I was facing her. “Calm down Scar. Everything is going to be ok. You could always call her to find out.” She said, as if I would easily be able to just pick up the phone and talk to her for the first time in a year. I just shook my head fighting back the tears.

“Oh, Scar come here.” Lizzie said pulling me into a hug. “You still love her, I never understood why you didn’t try harder to make things work. Perhaps this is the worlds way of pushing back towards each other.” I listened intently to what Lizzie was saying. She was right, ever since the day I ended things, I just wanted to call her up and say I made a mistake. But it’s been a over a year now. She’s probably moved on.

I spent that afternoon in my trailer with Lizzie holding me while I cried, worried that the love of my life was ill, and I wasn’t there for her. But me being the stupid person I am, was too scared to call or even try and make contact.

Over the next couple of weeks, I couldn’t focus on much. I was trying to take my mind of Y/n and went on a couple of dates with Colin Jost. He was a great guy, but I knew I couldn’t commit to him when I was still in love with Y/n and hopeful that we may one day find our way back to each other.

It was an article online which caught my attention which brought back all the worries that I had had about Y/n. I normally don’t read these things, but I found it was the only way I could keep Y/n in my life. This particular article was talking about Y/n being unwell and going through some form of treatment.

Like the press like to do, they analysed images of her to show her weight loss, her pale skin. How infrequently she would leave her home. There had even been some images of her going to the hospital. I had enough relying on potentially fake stories and decided that I was going to do something. I still was too scared to call Y/n but I there was one person I knew I could talk too.

Phone call (Third person.)

Scarlett: Hey Laura, it’s Scar. How are you?

Laura: Hey, I’m surprised to hear from you. I’m good thanks. How about you?

Scarlett: I’m not doing too great. I hope you don’t mind me calling, but I’m concerned about Y/n. I’m just going to get right to the point. Is Y/n sick?

There was a pause on the end of the line whilst Laura debated telling Scarlett what was really going on.

Laura: No, she’s not sick, but she has been struggling.

Scarlett: Oh, thank God she’s not ill. But what do you mean struggling.

Laura: After your breakup Y/n threw herself into work. She stopped looking after herself and it took us far to long to notice that something was wrong. I’m pretty sure she fell into depression. She even stopped writing.

There was a silence on the phone whilst Scarlett took in what she was hearing. Everyone knew how much Y/n loved to write. It was her outlet to process her feelings. The fact that you weren’t writing was terrifying, as it meant you were giving up.

Scarlett: So it wasn’t her choice to take a break?

Laura: Actually, it was. After the tour was over, she told us she couldn’t do it anymore. She admitted if she carried on, she was scared that she wouldn’t make it through. I was very proud of her that she recognised what she doing wasn’t healthy. We didn’t announce why she took a break, so it gave her time to focus on herself and get healthy again.

Scarlett: Right, that’s good she’s looking after herself again. How is she now?

Laura: She’s actually doing pretty well. She’s much healthier physically but I know she’s struggling. If I’m honest with you Scarlett, I think she always will. You were her life, I know it may not have seemed that way, but you were always the priority to her. I don’t think she’ll every truly get over you, but as long as she’s staying healthy I think she’s ok with.

Scarlett was silent. She was relieved that she wasn’t sick, but she now had new worries that Y/n still needed support mentally. She hated that she was selfish and broke things off when Y/n even when she was trying.

Laura: Scar, there’s something you should know. She opened a bar a few weeks ago. It’s called Spotlight. We managed to keep it from the press and it’s going really well for her. They have live music every night and she helps bands and artists have a chance to make it themselves.

Scarlett: That’s great, I’m glad she’s found something that makes her happy.

Laura: Once she was settled, I was sure that she was going to get back in contact with you. Deep down I think it was always her aim to be stable enough to come back to you. I’m surprised that she hasn’t.

There was another pause.

Laura: Perhaps you should visit. If you do, go on a Thursday.

Scarlett: Ok, maybe I will.

And with that they ended the call. Scarlett feeling slightly better, knowing now what she needed to do. She need to get her girl back.

Scarlett’s POV:

It was Thursday and I was dragging both Lizzie and Florence with my to Y/n new bar. I was so nervous, but I just hoped that she would at least talk to me. We got there and were seated in a booth with a good view of the stage and bar. I noticed that Y/n was serving behind the bar, chatting away with the customers.

She seemed happy, lighter maybe. We ordered some drinks and listened to the young guitarist that was currently playing. After their set was done, the DJ made an announcement. “Good evening everyone and welcome to Spotlight. Thank you to Hannah Leevers for that amazing set. I hope you’ve got your drinks and are ready for your favourite to take the stage again. Please welcome Y/n Y/l/n.”

The audience erupted in cheers and Y/n walked out to the stage and took her place at the piano. She started off by playing some of her hits and it was great. The audience were up and dancing and Y/n seemed the most comfortable I had ever seen her performing. “I forgot how amazing she really is!” Lizzie shouted over the music. “I know, but look how happy she is.” I responded, smiling at her comfort. 

“Thank you everyone. I’ve got one last song before we move on to the main act. We have an amazing band tonight which I can’t wait for you to hear. This last song is a new one that I wrote. I hope you like it!” Y/n stood up, picking up her guitar and sat on a stool by a mic. I watched slightly memorised as she started to pick at the strings.

Hey there, Mr. Tin Man

You don't know how lucky you are

You shouldn't spend your whole life wishin'

For somethin' bound to fall apart

Every time you're feelin' empty

Better thank your lucky stars

'Cause if you ever felt one breakin'

You'd never want a heart

Hey there, Mr. Tin Man

You don't know how lucky you are

I been on the road that you're on

It didn't get me very far

You ain't missin' nothing

'Cause love is so damn hard

Take it from me, darlin'

You don't want a heart

Hey there, Mr. Tin Man

I'm glad we talked this out

You can take mine if you want it

It's in pieces now

By the way there, Mr. Tin Man

If you don't mind the scars

You give me your armour

And you can have my heart

As she finished the song I was in tears. It was the most beautiful song she’s written, and I breaks me to know that it’s because I caused it. Lizzie and Flo pull me into a hug, and I notice they are both crying as well. “Go and fight for her.” Lizzie whispered in my ear. This was it. The moment I hope to change things for the better.

I pull a tissue out of my bag and wipe away my tears. Standing up and straighten out my clothes and take a deep breath before following Y/n to her office. I knock before turning the handle. “Tony, I just need a minute and I’ll be out.” I heard her sniffle as she spoke.

“It’s not Tony.” Is all I’m able to get out. She slowly turns on her spot and I can see the tear tracks down her face. “Scar, w-what are you doing here?” She asked, taking a step back to keep her distance. “That song was beautiful. I’m glad you’re writing again.” I smile, grateful that I’m in her presence again, even if it’s awkward.

“How did you know I stopped?... oh wait Laura told you.” She questioned before answering it herself. I just nodded. “I really should get back out there.” She says making her way to the door. I’m not ready to let her go, so I place my hand out and rest it on her stomach to stop. “Please don’t go.” I whisper.

She can’t make eye contact with me and just stares intently at her feet. “I’m just getting myself back together, I can’t…” She starts with a shaky voice. I interrupt her “shhh, look at me.” I take both her hands and turn her so she’s facing me. Slowly she lifts her head, and I can see fresh tears falling.

“I just want to talk. Once I’ve said my piece, if you want me to, I’ll go. I’m not here to hurt you.” She nods and allows me to continue. “I was really selfish when I said we couldn’t make things work. Part of me was being selfish as I didn’t want to make any sacrifices to my career. Which was stupid, because the only thing I’ve ever been sure of in my life was you. I got scared and I have never regretted anything as much as this.” I pause and wipe away some of the tears falling down her face.

“When I heard you had quit, I saw all these articles about you being sick and it sent me into a panic. I thought that I was going to lose you and you’d never know that I love you, that you’re my soulmate. When I spoke with Laura, it felt like a second chance. I knew I had to make things write. I know things may be to far gone, and if that’s the case then so be it, but I’m not ready to give up. I want us to try again if you’ll have me?”

It was my turn to not be able to keep eye contact. I was terrified that rejection was coming my way. “But you’re dating Colin.” She said with such sadness in her voice. “What? No, I’m not. Well, I went on a couple of dates, but that was months ago now and it never went anywhere. I was too in love with you.”

“Look, Y/n. Maybe we can start again? I don’t expect you to forgive me and for us to jump back into where we were, straight away. But perhaps we start again as a couple? I can reduce the projects I’m working on. You can start to work again.” I start to ramble, fight for our relationship.

“Scar, I’m happy…” Y/n starts and my heart breaks. “Oh, ok.” I turn to leave but she pulls me back by my wrist and I notice how much closer we are now. “What I mean is, I’m happy with my career as it is now. I love this place. Maybe one day I might want to release more music, but I know it won’t be for a while. IF we give this another go, you don’t need to make those big sacrifices. I won’t be going anywhere.”

I look up at her eyes and they are shining. My smile grows wide, and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have someone like her in my life. Before I know what my body is doing, I pull her in to a kiss, placing my hands on her cheeks as I pull her impossibly close to me. Her hands are on my waist rubbing my exposed hip bone. “God I’ve missed that.” She whispers against my lips. I chuckle in response.

“Y/n, I’m all in. You are my priority and if I need to make changes in how I work then I’ll do that. I want to do that so we can be happy. We’ll make this work. Just know I will always be here for you. Through everything.” Her smile grows to match mine and she pulls me in to a tight hug. “I love you.” She says almost afraid to say. I pull out of the hug so I can look her directly in the eyes. “I love you too.”

She gently places her lips on mine for another tender kiss which grows to become more passionate. When we need to catch our breath, we pull away. “I could do that all day.” She laughs. “So could I, but there is someone out there who is almost as desperate to see you again as me.” She looks at me with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “It’s Lizzie.” I say and her face lightens up. “Come on then.” I say, holding out my hand to her to take.

She follows me out and joins me back at the table with Lizzie and Flo. We spend the night catching up and laughing. I barely take my eyes off of Y/n and keep a tight hold of her hand as she rubs her thumb over my knuckles. This is where I want to be, and I will do anything to protect it.

[jazzmynerule]

Possibility

this imagine is based off of the scene in twilight where edward left bella and she sits in her room looking outside.. you get what i mean??

prompt: vinnie and y/n broke up on bad terms and it’s taken a toll on y/n leaving her to stay in her room for weeks

warnings: intentional starvation, numbness to emotions, unhealthy breakup, isolation

(- this means time skip)

…………………………………………..

walking into my room just moments after vinnie and i broke up had me sobbing on the floor

the same floor we danced around till sunrise

the same floor he kissed me till i couldn’t breathe

i hated how much i love him and i also hated how much i hate him

our relationship was envied by everybody

they said me and vinnie where made specifically for one another and honestly i believed them

he was the love of my life until

3 hours before

vinnie and i were arguing in the kitchen over how distant he’s been

“vinnie why are you being like this? i love you!” i screamed at him as he was walking away from me

“why am i being like this? why!? because you never believe me when i say they are just friends! am i not allowed to have female friends y/n?” he screamed back practically in my face

i stood there with my heart in my hands watching as it slowly cracked each time he yelled at me

“not when you’re friendship with them is based on fucking flirting! vinnie watching you flirt with them while you ignore the fuck out of me breaks me!” i sobbed

“you know what fuck you we are done i’m fucking over your bullshit y/n, you wanna see me flirt with somebody? i’ll fucking flirt with somebody��� he said walking up the stairs leaving me by myself for a split second

“hey nat, i was wondering if you wanted to catch up sometime this week?” i heard vinnie talk on the phone and that’s when my entire world crashed around me

“yeah no i’m not with her anymore she’s a fucking controlling insecure bitch” he chuckled

“fuck you vincent hacker! never in my life would i ever say something like that about you!” i yelled as i slammed the door and walked out of his life

-

“y/n honey, how are you doing?” my mum walked in and saw me hyperventilating on the floor

“mum i loved him” i cried so hard my chest was screaming in pain

“oh my love i’m so sorry baby” her heart broke into pieces seeing me cry over a boy like this and i know how much she wanted to protect me from this pain

“come on let’s get you to bed” she kissed my forehead lifting me up and carrying me to bed

“you’re my everything and more y/n remember that” she smiled pressing another kiss to my forehead

-

waking up the day after a break up was worse than the hour after

i sat up feeling like my chest was a pile of bricks

walking over to my dresser was a work out and even changing my clothes felt like it was a task

for hours on end i sat down on my desk chair staring out my window in complete silence, no tears and no emotion

mum and dad tried to pry me off the chair and eat something but the thought of food made my stomach churn

i just needed to be alone and having my parents worry so badly about me wasn’t helping

-

it’s been 2 weeks since the break up

vinnie has tried to call me multiple times a day talking about ‘i’m so sorry’ like that was going to change anything

i can’t look in the mirror anymore it’s like i can’t see the person i was before or during him i can only see the person after him and i hate myself for it

i haven’t spoken to anybody not even my friends i’ve isolated myself from the possibility of ever being myself again

i still haven’t eaten anything all i’ve had the past 2 weeks has been water and a watermelon smoothie mum makes me every morning because ‘it’s giving me the nutrients food should be giving me’

-

i can’t even find the motivation to go to my bed anymore it’s like i’ve permanently found my place on this desk chair

i was just about to fall asleep on the chair when a knock came from the door

“y/n love there’s somebody here for you” mum said as she opened the door

“y/n?” that exact voice was the reason i felt like this, the exact reason i’m not myself anymore

i fucking hate who that voice belongs to

“y/n baby i am so fucking sorry” vinnie stood in front of me practically wearing the same expression as me when i was standing in his kitchen, with his heart in his hands

“you did this to me” my voice was croaky as all i’ve been doing was crying

“i know and words can’t begin to express how fucking sorry i am for doing this to you”

“you need to leave, now” i finally looked at him, he looked like he hasn’t been eating and all he’s been doing was crying

like me

“i’m broken without you, you’re my everything and i hate myself for taking advantage of that, you are my soulmate y/n i need you” he fell to his knees in front of me gabbing onto my frail hands

“i wasn’t your everything when you called me insecure and controlling” tears welded up in my dull eyes just thinking about the conversation he had with that chick on the phone

“i’m a fucking dick baby i know but i’ll be better for you i promise, i can’t live without you” he broke down placing his head on my lap crying like his life depended on it

“i can’t forgive you for what you said and how you treated me vin but i’ll try” i slightly smiled feeling like my chest was finally being lifted out from under those bricks

“i love you so much y/n too much” he cried kissing my hands and placing my forehead on his

“tell me i won’t regret this” i sighed

“you won’t i promise you” he kissed my nose

-

that was 10 years ago

that awful break up was what we needed to finally be the couple we are today

2 kids and a house by the beach

having being married for 6 years and are as healthy as ever

yes our relationship isn’t all flowers and rainbows

but we will never give up on us as easy as we did back then

…

thank you so much for reading!!!

[shebles123]

Why this hurts so much

Tonight's episode hurt, and I'm going to try to explain why this was so much more than a slap to the face.

This isn't just about a ship. It goes beyond that. It cuts to the core of our experiences as shippers, particularly those of us who have shipped non-canon queer couples. We have been put down and belittled, labeled as crazy, weird, and disgusting for daring to see two people who clearly love and adore each other explore the possibilities of a romantic bond. We've been told that our desires are taboo and that we should just "get over it." We've been told by 911 show runners in particular that Buddie fans are just misinterpreting the story being told. These constant messages only reinforce the notion that gay relationships are something to be hidden and ashamed of.

As a queer person myself, I understand the pain of growing up without seeing myself represented in the media. It left me feeling isolated and asking myself if I was defective. However, shows like 911 have given me so much hope and have helped me come to terms with who I am. They allowed me to imagine a world where my feelings were valid, where my love was celebrated, and where I could find myself in the stories being told.

With that in mind, I want to acknowledge the existing queer representation on the show. Hen and Karen, Josh and Michael--these characters and their stories have and continue to deeply resonate with so many of us and I think we all genuinely appreciate the gift of having these characters. However, Eddie and Buck's journey is something extraordinary, something that represents so many of our realities and something that could revolutionize queer representation in media going forward.

Imagine a story of two young men growing up in homes where certain expectations were placed upon them to be providers, to bury their emotions, to stifle their hopes and dreams, all in pursuit of conforming to societal norms. Imagine a story where these two men find their own paths towards a traditionally masculine profession and end up finding a loving and accepting family and a place where people from all walks of life are equally lifted up and respected (something that is often not the case in reality).

Imagine these two men find peace, support, and a love they have never experienced before with each other. Imagine the strength of their bond as they become partners in work and in life, the fights and hurts they endure. Imagine them screaming and crying over each other's broken bodies, understanding the fear and pain of living life without one another.

Imagine that these two men build a family together. Imagine one of them is a single father and finds that their partner is one of the only people in the world they could possibly trust with their heart and soul in the form of their child, and imagine the father enshrining that trust and love in law.

Now, imagine that these two men finally see the truth in their relationship--a truth that has been unspoken throughout their time together but remains apparent through their actions. A truth that transcends societal expectations and norms. A truth that declares their love for one another as real and meaningful.

Buddie may have originally been planned as platonic, but they were not written that way, which is why this episode was much more than a slap to the face. It was a punch that said "you're crazy for seeing love where it was written."

Season 6 wrote Buddie with more romantic and domestic undertones than ever before and it feels like a betrayal to disrespect the bond that has been developing between them since day 1.

So to the writers, I implore you to understand the impact of your decisions. Of course, not every ship can become canon, but for the love of god, don't undermine the emotional connection you've nurtured between Buck and Eddie for 5 seasons. Don't discard the authenticity and depth that their relationship holds and please understand the pain we feel as you strip away their journey without proper resolution and without letting their story evolve and flourish into what it was written to be.

With all due respect, go fuck yourself for this, and I hope to god this gets fixed in season 7.

[just-a-carrot]

Obligatory every now and then "thank you for making the games that you do" ask 😌 it is so rare to see queer and mental health representation as honest and in-depth as your games. A big reason I spend a lot of my time making whacky little OW drawings is because it always just brightens my mood, being able to draw little guys who are like me in a way a lot of ways I just don't see expressed often. As someone who is Rather Disabled and Rather Queer, it's nice to just... have games where being those things is okay. Seeing nonbinary representation as honest and open as Gidget honestly made me tear up when I saw it. As someone who has Been Through That Stuff (in places that were-- and probably still are-- life-threatening to be seen as queer), I felt so seen by them and what they've been through. (I also forgot to mention but I did get the Gidget haircut eventually 😌 gender/10) ANYWAYS. Sorry if this ask got too Personal or anything I am a horrible judge of stuff like that 😅 but I did want to say thanks. (Also while I'm at it, thanks for answering the many asks I send about incredibly random topics related to the blorbos. I get very anxious about sending them so I don't half the time [nothing to do with anyone, I am just Anxiety: The Rabbit], but for the times I do, thank you for entertaining the asks even if they are utterly ridiculous most of the time haha. (And thanks for the help/feedback on dev-related stuff too, it's appreciated 😌 the comment left on TRJ still brightens my day whenever I think about it because I thought while making it that no one would enjoy it... but receiving that shortly after publishing it assuaged my fears by quite a bit so I'd just like to say thanks for that too. (...Whoops I think I have made a message Utterly Too Long but I hope it gets the points across??? Maybe??? Hopefully???)

weep this is incredibly sweet???? 😭💕

it literally brings me the utmost joy when people can see parts of themselves in my chars or relate to my char at all or feel seen, etc. also because a big part of this game is based on my own experiences and struggles so it helps ME feel seen when OTHERS also feel seen because then we can all relate together and maybe feel a little less alone in the experiences we've gone through in life

LKDJALFKDSFADF PLEASE DON'T EVER BE ANXIOUS ABOUT SENDING IN ASKS I LITERALLY LOVE RESPONDING TO THEM????? (tho i get it it would probably make me anxious too now matter how many times someone said that LOL) but fr i love going through my ask box and answering silly little questions. especially lately my anxiety's been cranked up to 11 so getting to distract myself with silliness is oftentimes a lovely godsend 💕

AND OFC 🥺 i always want to help in any way i can and also just spread love as much as i can. being a dev in general can feel so isolating, especially when we're neck-deep in deeply personal projects that take a lot out of us to work on (no matter how much we love them lakdfad). it helps knowing we've got others out there that can support us and have our backs and a little community of small devs that can relate to each others' issues and boost each other up

LDKJFALDFKA DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT thank you so much for this sweet message!! i got a bit teary-eyed reading it sob 😭💕

[nbyue]

UIS Chapter 2

June 1st, 20XX

It's been at least 3 hours since I, Father, and Mother have been set free from that... uncomfortable ink scroll, and after a questionable time at the beach, the newdle boy has given me a gift. I am currently writing in it. THE GREAT RED SON DOES NOT NEED A PERSONAL DIARY!!!! Although the cover is pretty nice. It's made of leather, and very nice to the touch....Perhaps the newdle boy has SOME taste after all. Hopefully my parents do not find this I will hide it under my bed tonight.

Anyway it's quite nice to be back in the fortress, I have already missed this old thing. I'm glad to see none of my inventions have been stolen by those pesky mortals as well for their """ world saving """ nonsense. BAH! We can do better! But I do applaud that newdle boy for saving the world, hell, even the ENTIRE UNIVERSE!!! I still hate him though.. I am supposed to hate him, as Father and Mother said so...

Speaking of which, they have been acting odd lately I hope they are okay. Probably side effects from being in that lousy scroll. WE WILL BE BACK TO POWER IN NO TIME!!! >:)

June 2nd, 20XX

Another day in the realm of greatness, and I, Red Son, shall document it for posterity. This diary, a gift from that insignificant newdle boy, was under my bed, and Father and Mother have barely noticed it! MWAHAHA! Maybe I should use this for writing down my inventions... YES YES! PERFECT! Is this lavaproof? May have to test later during my bath.

I must admit the newdle boy's gift is growing on me. The leather cover does have a certain charm, even if it's a bit cheap-feeling for my taste. But I'll give credit where it's due; he does have a knack for surprises. Doesn't mean I'll stop plotting his downfall though it's a matter of principle you see.

Speaking of the newdle boy, I cannot shake the feeling of begrudging respect for his foolish actions, no matter how much I despise him. These actions may have saved the universe, nut mark my words I shall reclaim our rightful place atop the cosmic hierarchy. DEMON BULL FAMILY FOREVS! >:D

And, as for Father and Mother, their behavior continues to perplex me. I was welding armor for Father earlier this day, and he has been looking rather off. A bit dull don't you see? He seems tired too. Burnout? Father never experiences burnout. And Mother has kept herself isolated all day today. I wonder what happened?

No matter, they'll regain their strength soon enough. We shall rise back to power and the world will tremble before us once more. Victory is inevitable! >:)

June 3rd, 20XX

This journal continues to evade the attention of Father and Mother. Their ignorance amuses me to no end. Maybe I shall indeed utilize this tome to write down my awesome inventions! I can finally stop using those flimsy parchments. A stroke of brilliance if I do say so myself. Also journal did not pass the lavaproof test. I, Red Son, am a bit sad about it.

But enough about the newdle boy and his paltry gifts. Today, Father had asked me to throw out some Demon Bull Clones. WHAT?!?!! I threw them out anyway didn't want to dissapoint Father. Such weakness is uncharacteristic of him. And I heard Mother crying in her room today and the banging of the walls. I'm beginning to think she is not okay.

Therefore to display my duty as the Prince of the Demon Bull Family, I shall check in on her tomorrow like a good son would! Maybe Father will be proud of me for caring for Mother. The thought excites me. >:D Speaking of which I've been noticing trails of ink around the fortress lately. I took it upon myself to clean it up and I accidentally some got on my precious coat! EW! Will be doing laundry tomorrow too.

I've been using this pathetic journal more as a book to write down my thoughts rather than my inventions, and I have to say it's rather calming gets rid of the chaos inside my brain cage. Of course I note down potential inventions too I don't write down my thoughts all the time. Otherwise I'd need to ask for a new journal from the newdle boy.

It's late now must sleep. GOODNIGHT PATHETIC JOURNAL! Yes, that's what I will call it from now on! >:O

June 4th, 20XX

I woke up at 3AM to write this entry! What an eventful day! First off, Father has indeed been acting more sour lately, asking me to do this and that and this and that. There are only so many things a Prince can do! At times like these, I wish he was more like other fathers.

Anyways, Mother cried in her room last night too. I felt really worried, but luckily she seemed fine when I checked on her. Her tears looked really black though has she been using too much mascara? Eh, whatever.

After that, I went to help Father with the machines he wanted me to repair. It was difficult to get all the parts needed for repairs in one go, especially after hearing Father complain for several hours about how long it takes me to build stuff. So I decided to take a short break before finishing everything.

I was eating a bowl of noodles given to me by the newdle boy, I suppose. A tacky drawing was stuck in front of the bag too of me and him. Not that I care. It's stupid but a bit endearing. I guess it makes me feel less alone or something.

Speaking of the newdle boy, why hasn't he tried to contact us? I haven't seen him since the beach but not like I'm looking out for him or anything, well I wonder if something happened to him. Oh dear. I hope he isn't dead or dying.

It's getting late now, I'll be sure to finish this entry tomorrow. Goodnight! >:)

June 5th, 20XX

Father attacked me today. I don't even want to think about it let alone write about it. It just doesn't make sense to me. It's like every time I leave them alone they somehow manage to screw something up and it's ALWAYS my fault. I guess I shouldn't blame them for my own incompetence after all I was there for most of that mess.

Anyway, this morning was horrible. Mother wouldn't look me in the eye and Father just kept staring into space. They were acting so strangely I wasn't able to concentrate on my duties. Something is going to change, I can almost feel it. All my work for Father and Mother was nothing but dust.

Oh well. Whatever.

Maybe I should write about the time Father attacked me that might help. Yes it did happen. I was just fixing up one of my inventions (my awesome race car) and then Father grabbed me by my neck and slammed me against the wall. His eyes were glowing blue and the next thing I remember was waking up on the floor.

So yeah that was fun to tell, wasn't it?

I feel strange.

Next (TBA)

[jgmartin]

THE SLEIGH FATHER

[Short Horror]

I need to talk. Like, I really need to talk.

The trouble is, I don’t have anybody I can talk to. My family’s estranged, my friends are all gone, and the authorities think I’m a lunatic.

It's just five days from Christmas, and I’m alone. Isolated. If I don’t get this off my chest though, I’m afraid it’s going to start festering in my mind like a decaying carcass; I’m afraid it’s going to sink its teeth in.

So I’ll talk to you. All of you. It’s not perfect, but it will do.

My name's Terrance Sims. I’m sitting in my rocking chair, rifle draped across my lap, in bloodstained pyjamas that still reek with last night’s piss. I haven’t slept in two days, and I might not sleep for two more. Last night something came down my chimney, and I think it’s coming back.

I’m getting ahead of myself, so let me paint you a picture. I live alone, up in the mountains where the pine trees are draped in snow, and the rivers are an icy blue. I could be a bit more specific, but I don’t think it’s warranted. Besides that, I like my privacy.

All of this to say, where I am isn’t important. What matters is what I have to say.

I’m a researcher. Or at least, I was once upon a time. My funding has long been cut, and my job along with it, but I've stayed out here because I believed in the research my team was undertaking. It was revolutionary. It meant the possibility of bridging worlds, of seeing new forms of life.

Now I’m terrified that research has found me.

You’ve probably heard of monsters, or urban legends, of things that claw at our imaginations and lurk in the dark recesses of our minds. Perhaps you’ve even felt one. They wait there sometimes, prowling just beyond our vision, tearing at the fabric that holds our realities together. Desperate. Hungry.

My job was to study these beings. I was tasked with developing an understanding of not only what they wanted from us but how to gain access to their world: the place Beyond the Veil.

Needless to say, I wasn’t successful. The organization I worked for, the Facility, poured millions into my ideas and wasn’t forgiving of my failures. When my theories came up short, they cut ties with me– he cut ties with me.

“It’s unfortunate, but it’s business,” Mr. Reid had said, feet on his desk, long hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Your failures reflect on me, Terrance, and they’ve become an accounting nightmare.”

I had begged him. Groveled. It didn’t matter. I was terminated along with my research, and when you’re studying the kind of things I am, they don’t want that information leaking out into the world. It’s what they call a liability.

So I was blacklisted. Facility teams picked away at my reputation, whispering in the back corners of universities and at the water coolers of laboratories. My name became synonymous with paranoia and madness. I was a laughing stock among my peers. A joke.

It was the end of my life.

Only one person cared to associate with me afterwards, a junior colleague and a brilliant young man named Alexi Azimov. He believed in the research nearly as much as I did, and luckily for him, his name wasn’t attached to the project.

When the Facility pulled the plug and dragged my name through the dirt, they simply moved him to a new department, and that was that. Despite it, he spent his vacation days returning to the mountain, assisting me with further study whenever he could.

Until last year, when even he abandoned me.

But now I’ve shown all of them. I’ve proven they were wrong -- dead wrong. It’s here. He’s here. I always suspected he lived among these mountains, or at least that his Bridge was located within them, but I had given up hope for so long. It had been years, after all -- damn near a decade. They called me absurd. Insane.

Then, last night everything changed.

I was lying in bed, winding down after logging the readings on the temporal measurement equipment, when the cabin shook. At first, I thought an avalanche had struck it, but then I heard it: a clatter of hooves upon the roof.

I shot out of bed, my breath trapped in my chest and my body cold with sweat. I sprinted to the closet and pulled out my hunting rifle. Outside, a blizzard howled, but all I heard was the voice, a menagerie of tone and emotion, high and low, guttural and smooth. It rang out from above me.

Ho ho hO.

My first thought was to contact the Facility, but my satellite internet wasn’t functioning in the storm. Even if it were, I knew better. I was too far. Too isolated for help.

The mountains I study in are remote, and the cabin even more so. It was chosen for its seclusion as a means of observing the being known as the Sleigh Father, but the circumstances were meant to be different.

Much different.

Above me, the ceiling creaked, and dust drifted down from the rafters. Boots crunched upon the snow-caked roof. You always think you’ll know what to do when the moment comes, that your training will kick in, and you’ll just go through the motions like some kind of pre-programmed robot. I wish that were true. I really do.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think.

I’d spent the better part of my career chasing that monster, and now that it’d found me, I was lost. My fingers played against the trigger of my rifle, my mouth dry, and my eyes latched open. Inside of me, my body thrummed with terror. My fight or flight response oscillated between cowardice and impulsive foolishness. I was paralyzed. Alone.

A chorus of chattering pierced the screaming wind. It came fast and jittery, like a ticking clock marking time in microseconds. I knew what it was before the hoofbeats followed. It was them, the creatures the Sleigh Father commissioned in the First Days when people still feared the night and all the horrors within. Eight abominations, stitched together by the innards of mutilated children.

Their agony acted as his gateway– his Bridge between worlds. The souls of the children lived on in the beasts, while their vacant spirits stalked the earth, lost and hopeless, seeking the missing piece that would finally grant them rest. Their tortured existence was his Link to our reality. The sleigh the abominations drew, his Bridge.

The thought shook me from my trance. I’d spent years waiting for this—a chance to see the other side, to see other worlds.

I had to act, so I lurched forward, moving through the lonely cabin while the Sleigh Father’s footsteps creaked above me. HO hO ho. He lumbered toward the chimney while I shivered down the cold hallway, rifle trembling in my skinny arms.

It took me only a few moments to reach the living area, and when I did, I settled there, just behind the corner of the wall. I kept my gun leveled at the fireplace, and my eyes plastered open. A crackling blaze danced in the hearth. It cast the sparse furnishings in an orange glow, throwing shadows across the loveseat and the messy desks.

The night became still.

The snowstorm quieted. The hoofbeats vanished. There was no sound of boots, no sound of laughter, only the snapping flames and my heart pounding blood through my skull. My mouth moved, and words spilled out. Affirmations. Come on, I muttered. Slide down the chimney, you beast. The fire’s waiting for you.

I knew better. Of course I did. I’d spent years researching the Sleigh Father, consuming tireless hours reading into his history. Of all the monsters the Facility had dealt with, the terrors that haunted old email chains and the urban legends that spread through panicked breaths, he was the anomaly. He was celebrated.

Santa Claus, they called him.

It was an error I traced back to centuries ago when a young girl witnessed her abusive father taken by the Sleigh Father. The creature devoured him and left the man’s skull as a parting gift, having taken what he came for: a human soul. To the girl, the beast was a savior.

A saint.

The words she spoke in the following weeks, months, and years became immortalized. They became history, and then they became legend. A jolly being, laughing and hungry, coming down the chimney and leaving gifts in its wake. It was as tantalizing a tale as they come, especially to young children, eager to be appeased in their search for comfort and joy.

Now he was here with me, looking for another soul to add to his collection.

Seconds stretched into minutes as I waited, tucked quietly behind the corner of the wall, rifle in my arms, elbow steadied upon my knee. Once, we had contingencies for this. Plans in place that provided the means to incapacitate the Sleigh Father should he pay us a visit, but those plans involved government agents no longer in my employ. They involved expensive technology and complex spells. They were a last resort.

A clump of snow fell down the chimney, and the fire responded with a hiss of steam. Its flame retreated for a moment, flickering, before lashing back in anger. Something heavy shuffled above– the Sleigh Father.

Emotions swam inside of me. Regret. Anger. Fear. Why had I stayed out here? How could I have been so stubborn, so goddamn arrogant?

The answer was obvious: my old boss, Donovan Reid. His mockery, his wanton destruction of my life. It left me with no other option. Either I remained on this mountain, burning through my life’s savings and hunting wayward game, or I returned home. One meant a chance at redemption, the other guaranteed humiliation and disgrace.

I hated Mr. Reid more than words could say. Alexi had seen it. He’d seen how much my loathing distracted me, and so he recommended methods to help get the snake off my mind. A list, he’d said in an email last month. Write a list of all the ways you want to hurt him. Write a list of all the horrible things you want to happen to him. I think it could help you get him out of your head and free up your attention.

It helped– a little.

hO ho HO.

The laugh came high and low, husky and slick. A crunch followed it, like something digging into brick, and panic found its way into my bones. Dust and debris fell into the flames. The Sleigh Father's legend was explicit in his form of entry: if possible, it was always the chimney.

A grunt came down the flue, followed by more pebbles and stones. Then, the cabin shook. It was as if something heavy had jumped from the roof -- and what comes up must come down.

A pulverizing cacophony filled the night like cannon fire. Rubble tumbled into the blazing hearth while the bricks of the chimney bulged outwards, crumbling as something massive shot down it. I barely brought my rifle on aim before a figure crashed into the flames.

Burning logs shattered with a thunderous crack, plunging the cabin into inky darkness. Wooden splinters ricocheted around the room like blazing shrapnel, their slivers slashing at my face and tracing my skin in searing agony. I swung back behind the protection of the hallway wall, rifle clutched to my chest.

My thoughts raced. This couldn’t be happening, I said to myself. It couldn’t. I slammed my eyes shut, trying to get my out-of-control breathing back in line. I was hyperventilating. Panicking. I had to calm down because if I didn’t, I would start making impulsive decisions, and impulsive decisions were a good way to die.

I opened my eyes.

The fire was gone. I could barely see a thing. A short distance away, boots groaned against hardwood, kicking past broken logs in the hearth. My finger quivered against the cold steel of the rifle’s trigger, and I desperately wanted to pull it, but I knew that if I did, then it was over. Either the Sleigh Father would die, or I would. The odds, I decided, were not in my favor.

So I waited.

A piece of me, infinitesimally small, wanted to see him, wanted to flick on a light or blindly fire into the darkness. I wanted to witness the monster that possessed my life for so long– if only for a second. But I didn’t. It’s not worth it, I told myself. It’s not worth it.

The footsteps stalked to the window, dragging something heavy behind them. Against the faint light of the moon, I made out the Sleigh Father’s silhouette. He was tall, inhumanly so. His neck craned forward, pressed against the top of the high cabin ceiling. A cloak was draped across his broad shoulders, and from his head slumped the pom of a stocking cap. Beside him sat a large sack.

“NaUghty oR niCe?” his voice hummed, in a discordant melody.

I didn’t reply. It seemed impossible, but a part of me held onto the belief that maybe he wasn’t speaking to me. Maybe he didn’t know I was there. It was just a monologue, perhaps– words for the night.

I raised the rifle, aiming it toward his massive figure. I could do it now, I reasoned. I could pull the trigger and hopefully make this nightmare disappear.

Ho HO hO.

The silhouette turned, its face masked in shadow, save for a single glint of bobbing light. “CaReFuL wiTh tHaT,” it said.

A cold breeze swept across me, and suddenly my fingers burned with agonizing frostbite. My rifle clattered to the floor while my hands trembled in pain. “YoU’ll TaKe yOur eYe OuT.”

“W-what do you want?” I stuttered, stumbling backward. My feet croaked on the floorboards as I came up against the back of the hallway. My heart hammered. Tears filled my vision as I cradled my cold hands against my stomach. “Please,” I whimpered.

“NaUgHty?” he sang. “Or NiCe?”

“Nice!” I said. “I’m a good man. I just wanted to l-learn about you.” The words stumbled out of my mouth like lemmings falling to their death. “I don’t mean any harm. I swear!”

The footsteps creaked closer, and as they did, the silhouette vanished from the window's moonlight. All that remained of it now were the sounds that it made. I listened intently to the burdensome echoes of boots on hardwood and the heavy scratching of coarse fabric being dragged across the floor.

ho Ho hO.

He was close. So close. I screwed my eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable, waiting to die. Warm piss spilled down my leg, and my face screwed up as I fell to my knees, bawling on the floor. “Please,” I begged. “I'm a good man! I told you– please!”

The rumble of footfalls stopped, and in their place came the sound of rustling fabric, like somebody opening a sack.

“NiCe, yOu sAy?”

A dim light formed, radiating out of a burlap bag some five feet away. Behind its glow, I could make out a white, singed beard hanging over a red suit. The Sleigh Father’s face was otherwise indiscernible amidst the suffocating shadow, save for one dancing speck of light.

“WoULd yOu LiKe a GiFt?” he asked.

My mind raced. Was there anything in the mythology that warned against accepting gifts? I couldn’t recall. “Yes,” I hazarded, in a small voice. "Yes, please." It seemed unwise to refuse the creature.

hO ho Ho.

A massive, red-jacketed arm reached into the burlap sack. My eyes widened in horror as I realized the sack was moving. Kicking. Like there was something alive inside of it. Muffled screams followed, and the great arm pulled back, clutching a man by his long, blonde hair. The man thrashed and whimpered. Tears soaked his pale face.

Our eyes connected, mine and the man’s, and something ran through me. It was a feeling I’d never experienced before, a mixture of dark excitement and absolute loathing.

“You,” I said slowly.

The light from the sack was dim, but to the man, it was all he had known. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the heavy darkness of the cabin, and as they did, he peered toward me, eyelids pinched together to discern the voice speaking to him.

“Who’s there?” he whimpered.

I gazed forward in stunned silence. Was this real? There was no way. He dangled in the Sleigh Father's grasp like the finest Christmas present I'd ever seen.

“Hello?” his voice called. “Please, I have resources -- more than you could imagine! I’m a powerful man in government! Just get me the hell out of here, and I’ll give you whatever you want.” His voice turned weak, broken. “Please… please get me out of here. I have a family.”

I opened my mouth, but if words were there, I didn’t speak them. No. It seemed wasteful, at this moment, to reply so thoughtlessly. This moment necessitated careful words and a measured tone. It required my best.

“NauGhtY,” the Sleigh Father hummed. “So, sO NaUgHty.”

I found myself nodding along. Yes, the man was naughty. The worst. He was an abomination, fit for disposal. He’d doubted me– made a mockery of me, and torn apart the life I’d so carefully built.

“Donovan,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice level. “Donovan Reid, isn't it?”

The light was faint. So faint. In spite of it though, I could see Mr. Reid had finally realized who I was, whether because his eyes had adjusted or he recognized my voice. Perhaps a combination of the two. His expression fell.

“That voice…You used to work for me,” he choked out. “Didn’t you?”

I gazed at him, something horrible growing inside of me. It ate up all of my fear, my regret, my rage and it left only hunger in their wake—a desperate desire for retribution.

“I did.”

A pause. He sensed it there, in my reply. He sensed the disdain– the hatred. “I’m so sorry,” he said at length. “You were right. You were right about everything!”

“That's true,” I said. “And you were wrong.”

“Yes, I was.” He winced in agony as the Sleigh Father lifted him higher by his tangled hair, then gently nudged him with a giant, clawed hand. Mr. Reid swung like a pendulum. “You were right,” he continued, weeping. “He’s real. Of fucking course he is! Are you–”

“– am I what?” I interjected. My hands, still burning with frostbite, became an afterthought in my mind. The warm piss in my pants hardly registered to me. I was beginning to build the puzzle. I was beginning to understand what this was. “Are you asking me if I’m going to help you?”

Silence.

“Of course I’ll help you,” I said. “I’m not a monster. Why would I ruin your life, all because you made a simple mistake?”

In the quiet of the cabin, Mr. Reid's shuddering tears struck the floorboards like gunshots. “T-thank you so much.” He hardly sounded like the man I knew. If he weren’t swinging in front of me, with his obnoxiously long hair and his fitted suit, I’d almost have doubted my own ears. He sounded weak. Cowardly.

“I’ll ask the Sleigh Father to release you if you can do one thing for me.”

hO ho HO.

“What is it? Anything! Your research is back on the table– of course, it is, you’re brilliant! Look at you. You saw this before any of us. You knew it was out there and–”

“What’s my name?”

“I’m sorry?” His words, once thundering along like a rollercoaster, crumpled into a heap. “Look, I’m not in a position to remember every fucking employee’s name. That was years ago! You need to be reasonable!”

I took a step forward, and the floorboards creaked. I understood what the situation was now. It was written in the subtext of the legend, the unspoken and unwritten words that undercut everything about the Sleigh Father. A singular concept, one still celebrated to this day.

Holiday cheer.

I reached out a hand, gripping Mr. Reid by his silky black tie. His swinging stopped, and I pulled at the accessory, making him choke and gag.

“Are you fucking…” he sputtered, “...crazy?” His face had lost the fear, the concern, the false remorse. In its place was something much more familiar.

Malice.

I let him go, and he gasped as his breath returned to him. My eyes shifted to the being behind him– the instrument of his destruction. The Sleigh Father remained still, clouded by darkness, with only his massive arm and singed white beard illuminated by the dim light spilling from his bag.

“NaUgHtY oR niCe?” the monster repeated, in that discordant voice masquerading as song.

My eyes connected with Mr. Reid's, and an irresistible smile crept along my lips. To see him there, helplessly hanging by his hair and a slave to my whims, filled something inside of me I didn’t realize I was missing. It filled a need for power– a need to be respected.

“Naughty,” I said, surprising myself with the tone of authority. “Donovan Reid is a terrible man.”

Ho ho Oh.

“No!” Mr. Reid screamed, even as the great red arm lifted him up to the rafters of the ceiling. His face screwed up in agony as the Sleigh Father gripped his legs with his other hand. “Please!” he shrieked, horizontal in the air. “Please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorr–”

His words were interrupted by the wet splatter of his intestines striking the cabin floor. It was hard to see in the darkness but easy to hear. I listened as the Sleigh Father pulled Donovan Reid apart, one end from the other, his innards slapping against the ground like spoiled fruit.

“Why…” Mr. Reid's last word died on his lips as the Sleigh Father slammed both pieces of him against the cabin floor, drenching me in an explosion of blood and bone.

When it was finished, I sat in warm, wet silence. Donovan Reid's blood dripped from my mess of hair and soaked through my thermal pajamas. Something akin to a near-death experience flashed before my eyes, except it was aspects of my life and my research.

I always believed the Sleigh Father to have been little more than a simple reaper. A monster hungry for souls, or other forms of mortal sustenance, piecing the veil once a year when its hunger grew too insatiable to ignore.

I had been wrong.

Much of the Santa Clause mythology fitted the Sleigh Father. More than I or Alexi ever expected. He didn’t just feed on souls. He fed on people’s joy. Their mirth. It appeared as though he required both pieces to be fully satiated, and such a phenomenon provided much more context to the original myth.

That girl, centuries ago, had been joyous when the Sleigh Father devoured her father, hadn’t she? And now I had been joyous when he’d gifted me my revenge. I’d felt ecstatic watching Mr. Reid die.

Ho ho HO.

The cabin began to tremble, and soon the very floorboards snapped, and the windows rattled. It felt like it was being torn from its foundations. I steadied myself against the wall as a blinding light exploded from Donovan Reid's skull before quelling to a gentle gleam. It snaked around the cabin, revealing the full extent of the building’s disarray.

Tables had been upturned, documents littered the floor, and the fireplace had become little more than a pile of bricks and a frigid breeze. Shafts of moonlight pierced through the hole in the ceiling the chimney once occupied, revealing Mr. Reid's blood and bones scattered all over. The cabin was soaked in his blood.

Then, the floating light passed across the Sleigh Father.

It revealed a behemoth, clad in crimson cotton with white trim. Two legs burst from the long red jacket, coated in coarse, black fur that ended in leather boots. As the light swam upwards, I caught sight of the creature’s arm scratching at its barrel chest. Its fingers were thick, human, but decaying. What I had earlier mistaken for claws were actually long, curled fingernails.

“Thank you,” I breathed, my heart thundering. “Thank you for this.”

“TiS tHe SeaSon,” it sang with a laugh.

The orb of light ascended towards its mouth, and for the first time, I saw the monster’s face. It was human but mangled. Above its white shock of beard were two pieces of coal, seared into its eye sockets. The skin of its face was discolored, a pock-marked mess of swollen, blistered flesh that sagged around its skull, and its nose was little more than two slits, with the faintest impression of bone jutting from beneath.

Burns, I realized. His face had been burned beyond recognition.

As the tiny orb of light finished its ascent, it revealed the Sleigh Father’s red stocking cap. At the end of it was a white pom, and it blinked. It was looking at me. An eyeball twinkled where the pom should have been, glimmering like a star in the night.

It seemed clear to me the creature meant me no harm, and so the researcher inside of me took over. “Can I ask you–” I began, before being cut off by a roaring sound of wind.

The Sleigh Father had opened its mouth, and within its jaws, a blizzard roared, frigid and horrible. My hands, anguished with frostbite, became numb and unresponsive. My ears screamed, and my nose throbbed. My entire body ached with the stabbing sensation of absolute winter.

Then, the light orb vanished, sucked up inside the Sleigh Father’s mouth, and so too did the cold. I heard what sounded like a gulp and a swallow, and then another discordant, tuneless round of hO HO Ho.

Darkness returned.

The Sleigh Father turned, his twinkling eye vanishing as he did, and began walking away from me. His lumbering footfalls crunched along the cabin floor, snapping pieces of Mr. Reid's bones as he made his way back to the demolished chimney. “MeRrY cHRiStMaS tO aLL,” the Sleigh Father sang.

I heaved a breath, warmth returning to my extremities. I couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in decades, I felt full of Christmas cheer, so much so that I even finished the rhyme for him. “And to all a good night!”

His boots stopped, and the floor groaned as he turned back to me, that bouncing eye gleaming in the night. “MErRy cHriStMaS tO aLL,” he repeated, though his voice had lost its whimsy. “I’LL sEe YoU iN tWo NiGhTs.”

My jaw fell open, the smile dying on my lips. No, that wasn’t right. Why would he come back? I already had what I wanted. Mr. Reid was dead. The Sleigh Father turned around toward the chimney, chuckling to himself.

“Hang on!” I spat, my voice cracking. “You don’t have to come back. It’s fine! Seeing you was enough! I just needed to know I wasn’t crazy–  that I was right!”

“NAuGhTy,” he hummed, “Or RiGhT?”

I blinked, not understanding. That wasn’t the rhyme. “Nice,” I said. “I’m not naughty– I’m nice! I’m a good person that was abused and taken advantage of, just like that girl you saved. Remember?”

hO ho Ho.

His laughter echoed around the ruined cabin. “NAuGhTy aNd RiGhT. i’LL sEe YoU iN tWo NiGhTs.”

He stepped into the remains of the ruined chimney, and shafts of moonlight framed him through the broken ceiling. His beard upturned with a smile, and then he bent his great legs and leapt upward with a grunt.

A moment later, the ceiling trembled, and pieces of rafter crashed down around me. Above, I heard the Sleigh Father’s chorus of Ho ho Oh, and his heavy boots crunching on snow. Then came the whip of reins and the rapid chatter of eight abominations preparing to take flight.

Their hooves pounded against the roof in anticipation. Two more whip cracks and the cabin rafters whined as the sleigh began to move, slowly at first, before the monsters broke off into a rumbling gallop.

Through the shattered ceiling, I caught sight of the godless creatures taking flight. They were monsters in the truest sense of the word; pieces of children chopped up and reassembled into beasts of burden. Some had six legs and one arm, others three heads and four feet upon two legs. As the last remnants of the Sleigh Father’s laughter faded in the distance, I idly wondered if he purposefully designed the beasts to be more hideous than himself.

I chewed on the thought as I stumbled toward the kitchen, grabbing a flashlight from the drawer and flicking it on as I went. I used it to locate a blanket and a laptop, and then took a seat in the old rocking chair.

With the blizzard gone, the night was uncharacteristically warm. Whether or not that was a consequence of the Sleigh Father's visit, I couldn’t say, but I was thankful for it. It made thinking easier.

I flipped the computer open, and my face was bathed in a blue glow. I noted the satellite connection was back online. Good. My fingers rocketed across the keyboard, sending out multiple emails to my contacts at the Facility.

I’ve done it, I told them. I’ve proven the existence of the Sleigh Father. Not only that, I added, but he told me he’s returning in two days’ time. We can acquire his sleigh. His Bridge.

I hit send, exhaling a sigh of relief. I truly had done it. I’d redeemed my name. I’d resurrected my reputation and executed the monster that murdered it in the first place. It had been a busy night. An important night.

I fully believed the Sleigh Father would return for me, but with the Facility’s resources, I suspected we could handle him. Their warlocks could do wonderful things with spells.

My computer pinged with the first email alert, a reply from the Facility's hiring manager. I figured why wait? I had a job to return to. The sooner I got paid for my work again, the better.

“Good evening, Dr. Sims," it read.

"Your work for the Facility has been greatly appreciated. Unfortunately, we have located another talent that has proven more reliable. Your contract will not be reinstated.”

I stared at the screen in confusion. Had they even read my email? I just told them I located the damn Sleigh Father! I just explained how I found the Bridge between worlds!

Cursing, I began typing my response. Two more email alerts pinged in the corner of my screen, distracting me.

No matter, I thought to myself. The hiring manager could wait. I clicked on the first new email. It was from an old colleague of mine, Anna Ling, a former team member on the Sleigh Father research project, and one with high-level security access.

“I am so sorry,” it read. “Take care, Terry.”

Sorry? Did she think I was insane? I clenched my fist, my frustration mounting at the thick-headedness of these idiots. I was sitting on possibly the most significant discovery in the history of mankind, and they were brushing me off like a common madman.

Bitterly, I clicked on the third email. It was from the Director of Research and Development– Mr. Reid's boss.

Good to hear from you, Terrance!

First off, I’d like to say we’re recommending you for the Medal of Merit. Your work has been incredible, and dare I say, worthy of certain additional awards down the line. Can you say Nobel prize?

I paused, a smile forming on my lips. This was more like it. I always found the Director of R&D to be a shrewd and clever woman. It was little wonder she saw the potential of this opportunity as soon as I presented it.

I continued reading.

Of course, public awards are off the table until the Bridge has been put to proper use. We’ll have to deal with the upcoming conflict first before spilling the beans on this new technology, but trust me, once we can, your name is going in the hat. I’ll be personally recommending you! I imagine you’re probably a little upset. It’s a terrifying prospect, what’s to come, but…

I blinked, shaking my head in confusion. Terrifying? That’s an odd way to describe a Nobel prize. No matter. I continued reading.

... unfortunately, it was the only option we saw available. Dr. Azimov has been a huge help in getting all of this setup, and we’re genuinely thankful for your cooperation in the matter. What’s losing another thirty years of life when you’ll be immortalized in history, eh?

Dr. Azimov? Alexi Azimov? What the hell, that couldn’t be right. Alexi abandoned the project a year ago. Sure, he’d occasionally kept up with me via email– more for my sanity than anything, but he had nothing to do with this. His mental exercise of listing my intrusive thoughts helped clear my head some, but that didn’t warrant such accolades. I did this. Me.

Furious, I clicked reply. Before I could finish the first word of my response, my computer pinged with another email. It was the last contact I’d messaged: Alexi.

Terrance,

I hope you’re well. In fact, I suspect you’re feeling quite good, if not a little confused. I know how much the Sleigh Father project meant to you. To be frank, your obsession with it has concerned me. It isn’t healthy. It’s damaging.

Before I go any further, I’d like to assure you that the Facility will be arriving at the mountain later this evening. They’ll be monitoring you from a safe distance, and when the Sleigh Father returns in two nights’ time, they’ll attempt to apprehend his Bridge.

I let loose a sigh of relief. Good. I knew I could count on Alexi -- even if he was trying to steal some credit for this. I cracked an exasperated smile and kept reading. It was probably a misunderstanding.

Earlier this year, I discovered some lore. I thought it might help both of us. You and I. You see, old friend, I have come to realize that the Sleigh Father shares more in common with the Santa Claus myth than either of us recognized. All those weeks, months, and years of study and failed attempts to locate the monster were rooted in a singular problem: we were too focused on the science of it all. 

The Sleigh Father is a being that transcends science, of course. An anomaly. A myth. So it was to that mythology I returned. Within it, I found the means to quell some of your suffering and offer you an opportunity to have a merry Christmas before you pass from this world.

My fingers ached. I realized I was clutching the sides of the laptop hard enough that the plastic shell began to crack. I reread Alexi’s words. Before I pass from this world? What kind of phrasing is that?

Trust me, Terrance. It will be better for you this way. Easier. I know you're probably wondering what I'm talking about, so let me provide you with some background details.

I discovered that lists have the power to summon the Sleigh Father. They act as a sort of ritual or an offering to it. When one creates a list, the creature will sometimes deign them with their request -- providing they want it desperately enough. It is our emotional energy that calls to the Sleigh Father. It feeds upon our joy and our sorrow, our wishes and fears.

Your list to Donovan Reid was drenched in emotion. I suspected that if my theory was correct, given your relative proximity to the Sleigh Father’s Bridge and your hatred for Mr. Reid, you could provoke an encounter with the being. I’m happy to hear I was correct in that regard!

My eyes scanned his words, and my teeth dug into my lip. That son of a bitch. That absolute piece of shit. I made to get up and grab a new piece of paper, one I could use to write Alexi’s name on. I'd list it a thousand times, with a thousand different ways I wanted him dead.

But the email wasn’t finished.

Of course, there’s more to the Santa Claus mythology than simple lists. There are consequences. One such consequence is when somebody requests something selfish or sufficiently deplorable. It is the Naughty or Nice paradigm, and we see it reflected heavily in the mythology. It’s what I was counting on tonight.

Your desire for Mr. Reid’s death was selfish and, frankly, monstrous. You'll excuse my dry sense of humor, but it really was a Naughty sort of thing. I’m genuinely sad to know Mr. Reid passed with such brutality, but I’m happy to know it will pave the way to ending the coming war and saving billions of lives.

When the Sleigh Father returns to claim your deplorable soul, please know that it was never something I wanted. If you could have lived, I would have preferred that. Same too with Mr. Reid.

Unfortunately, we’re running out of time, and sacrifices must be made. The Eldritch horrors are knocking on our front door, Terrance. You know that. You know I had no choice.

Just know that you and Mr. Reid will be remembered for what you gave. Carpe diem, old friend.

P.S.

If at all possible, please draw the Sleigh Father as far from his Bridge as you can. Our team will have an easier time retrieving the sleigh that way.

Happy Holidays,

Alexi.

I closed the laptop. I didn’t even bother writing a reply. What was there left to say? ‘Fuck you, asshole?’ No, it wasn’t worth the energy. I doubted he’d even care to read it. He already got everything he wanted, after all. He had me right where he wanted me, and now he would get all of the credit.

That son of a bitch.

I stewed in my rage for a long time. Long enough that birds chirped overhead, and the golden light of dawn seeped in through the cabin window. Eventually, I decided what would happen next.

You would– all of you.

See, the Sleigh Father might be coming for me tonight, and it might be true that I don’t have a way out of here. The Facility is too powerful. Too all-reaching. But not even they can stop the wildfire of public outrage. So here it is, my testament, the true account of the final days of my life, and the research that led to them.

I’m not asking to be deified. I’m not even asking for a street in my name. I just want people to know the real story about what happened out here, on this snowy mountain. You’ll forgive me for not trusting the Facility to represent my contributions to this project properly. They’ve already spoiled my name once. Who’s to say they won’t keep dragging it through the dirt after I’m dead?

Words are cheap, and I know better than to trust emails from suits. So I’m begging you to spread this, far and wide. Tell my story the way it truly happened, warts and all. I’m not a perfect person, but I’m not a madman either. The Sleigh Father came to me. I witnessed him, not Alexi– me.

Tonight, when the creature returns, I won’t even run from my death. I’ll lead the bastard away, just like that snake Alexi asked. It’ll be my final contribution to my life’s research. A contribution I hope might lead to a better world someday. If they manage to steal the sleigh, then it’ll be a colossal boon in the war to come. If they don’t…

Well, just be careful what you wish for this Christmas.

Some gifts aren’t worth the price.

[aspd-culture]

so about some of the traits and behaviours related to ASPD that can be upsetting or harmful to others (eg putting yourself and others at risk, not understanding or regarding the rights of others, etc), how do you deal with that in relationships (whether friends, dating, family, work)? like, when their side of an argument is that you’re being disrespectful or putting them at risk, but your side is that those are literally symptoms of ASPD and you weren’t actively trying to hurt them? they’re not wrong for feeling hurt still, but you’re not wrong for existing with this disorder. i realise it’s generally considered difficult for pwASPD to maintain relationships, but like, somehow you have to live your life and that involves a lot of interacting with people, plus pwASPD don’t deserve total isolation that they don’t want, obviously. apologies if the wording is confusing.

/genq /intending this respectfully

I appreciate this question and especially the way you worded it was actually super respectful, so thank you for that as well.

For me and many people with ASPD our social circles tend to be smaller and usually within that even fewer actually know about the disorder, which can make this especially tricky if they don't understand why we're acting this way. In that case, I personally do my best to take a step away from the situation and talk to people I trust who *do* know about my disorder to ask them AITA or not.

If they agree with me entirely, I stand my ground with the other person or remove them from my life if I feel it warrants that (which, with this disorder, I more often than not do if it wouldn't take much effort to cut them out of my life).

However, if the people I trust to help with my moral compass feel that I was entirely in the wrong, I will try and process that as a logical fact, practice faking remorse by myself, and apologize. Even if I don't feel remorse and the thing I did wrong came from my symptoms, I can personally still accept that the facts are that undue harm was caused to them.

My apologies tend to sound insincere so I've been told, but people tend to appreciate that I accept full responsibility, acknowledge the harm I caused, and work to change my actions, so they tend to see it as me seeming insincere vs actually being insincere. After all, I generally *don't* try to hurt the people around me, but if I did it anyway then it's probably worth trying not to repeat, if only for the practical purpose those people serve in my life.

I try really hard not to be the type of person, regardless of my PD, who says "this is how I am, get over it" without at least considering if I'm in the wrong. It took me many years to get to this point though, and I am able to admit that I was a pretty crappy friend at some points bc of my refusal to try and see where I was wrong. I used to feel that if I didn't feel remorse I should not have to show remorse, but I'm in the process of learning that's not accurate.

Remorse is best delivered from a heartfelt perspective, yes, but if that's not available storebought is fine. It's ok to have remorse be a practiced set of words and actions that you do when people are upset, so long as your apologies at least come from a place where you intend to try to change. That change doesn't have to be not having symptoms, but it's reasonable for people to expect your symptoms not to constantly negatively impact them.

All that said, if it's something I truly cannot change about myself, my side of the conversation usually looks like this, with adjustments based on what exactly the issue is (feel free to use this as a script of sorts if you have trouble talking through these things with ppl in your life! YMMV, but I spent a long time formulating it, so it deserves as much use as it can get lol). Keep in mind a lot of this is gonna sound like I don't have ASPD and that is on purpose. In my personal relationships I prioritize apologies and times when others are upset as times I choose to mask. That is honestly more for me than for them except for my Exceptions bc it’s extremely frustrating for me to navigate what is and is not coming off as angry, dismissive, etc. so I prefer to mask heavily during these kinds of conversations. You do not have to mask if you do not want to; it should not be the expectation of NT people/pwoPDs that we mask for their comfort.

If they know about my PD: "I don't want to hide behind this or use it as an excuse, but what you're talking about is a symptom of my personality disorder. I put in a lot of work to avoid these symptoms affecting other people, but at the end of the day I still have a disorder and some things are just not able to go away. What I can do is find out how this is hurting you. If it's my tone and not my words, there isn't much I can do about it besides remind you that my tone is often non-reflective of my intention and emotions. If it's my words, we can work together on a phrasing that would be more comfortable for you in the future. It will come across as scripted, but that doesn’t change the fact that I mean it. I would just be using that phrasing because it’s important to me not to hurt you. If it's a specific action, I can try to not repeat it. But I cannot get rid of the disorder and part of being in my life is understanding that and trying to find ways we can both cope without me having to mask all the time. That is exhausting and unrealistic unfortunately. Can you explain to me what exactly was the issue with what I said/did and how it made you feel so we can understand each other better?”

If they don't: "I get that what I said/did came off differently than I intended and hurt you. I'd like to know specifically what about it hurt you in your own words so that we can come up with a solution to avoid this in the future. I know it may feel obvious, and I basically already know (sometimes with neurotypicals you just need to LIE) what was hurtful. I just feel if you explain it to me, we can target it together better and I will be able to be a better friend/partner/coworker in the future. If you don't communicate that to me, I might accidentally end up making things worse and I don't want to do that. Think about it this way, if what I said made you angry and I thought it made you sad, however I try to rephrase it is probably just going to make you angrier since I’d be looking at it in the wrong context and that warrants a different response.”

If something is 100% unfixable, resort to a gentle version of old reliable "this is who I am" speech: "I understand that you're upset and the goal here was not to hurt you. I don't enjoy seeing you upset and what I did/said wasn't intentionally malicious. But that said, it is kind of just something about me that I talk/act like that sometimes. If it helps to know it isn't anything against you, great. I can give you that reassurance any time you need, just ask instead of assuming ok? If not, I think it may just not be possible for us to see as much of each other or maybe be in each others' lives. I don't want you hurt and if a part of my personality is hurting you, then you deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy and I would wish you all the best in that."

The difference about saying that last one now vs when I used to is that now I am both using much gentler wording and only saying this when I honestly believe the only thing I can do to help this person protect their own peace is to not be in their life. Inevitably, people tend to push after this "no I can handle it, I don't want to lose you", and I usually try and discourage it once and say "look I don't want to be the reason you're hurt and have you bottle it up until you resent me and then lash out at me. I want to protect both of us." If that still doesn't work, gotta be honest, it's their funeral at that point bc you said you could handle it, you said it wasn't that big a deal, you're a grown person and it's your job to either mean what you say or take responsibility if you don't.

Sorry for writing a novel! This stuff is complex and it’s hard to explain my process concisely. I hope this answers your question though.

[psychewritesbs]

Hello there!

I've been giving a little stalk through your blog and I love your posts and insights, thank you for sharing them!

Now for what I came here to say - I've read @littleholmes post on RCT and reincarnation on ch 239 and your addition to it and I wanted to give some input (albeit a bit of in a different direction) as well since I've been thinking about that topic too, if that's alright!

I was like, 100% sure Gege had disposed of Gojo for real up until he deliberately chose to make reference again to the fact that to kill a RCT user you have to go for the head. Honestly, Gege has shown us so many time that we cannot dismiss any small dialogue line in his manga because the story will always make a way to circle all the way back to it that I believe he did not just randomly drop that line there.

SO, assuming Gege did not drop that line randomly nor is baiting us into thinking that, I got myself thinking about possible ways Gojo could make a comeback and the way I see it, I think the most likely way for him to manage to survive would be through RCT usage and eventually later with Shoko and/or Yuta's intervention to fully heal; what I think is something that we must consider as littleholmes said in the original post, is that Gojo's brain is most likely as good as fried after shinjuku showdown, so i think the chances are 1) Gojo isn't able to use RCT at all anymore and is effectively dead, or 2) he still manages to use RCT but has taken so much damage to his brain that he can't use his technique anymore.

Now for character development - I think Gojo's personal identity remains in close contact with his identity as "the strongest". I think Geto underlined that when they broke up at KFC parted ways with each other, and even though I don't think Gojo truly felt like that up until that moment since he still had Geto by his side and to him, they were the strongest, I do think it ended up becoming such a "dominant" self-perception of his that probably blinded everything else about his person and made him almost involuntarily isolate from everyone.

So to say, Gojo's identity as the strongest was what shackled him.

I wonder if it would be possible for Gojo, 29, fed a self-image of something close to godhood ever since a child, to ever part ways with that perception (and what comes with it) while mantaining his technique and remaining... well, the strongest..

I'm beating around the bush but where I wanted to reach was: I think it would be curious to see Gojo as a jujutsu-less leader. For someone like him to whose self-identity was always blurred with status, wouldn't it be freeing to "go north" as a new person, as someone who has more to offer than brute power, who can guide his students from a place of understanding, and be influencial despite lack of jujutsu (which ig would be possible since HQ was masacred)?

Okay, that's it, sorry for the english, for the messy thoughts and for barging in; I just wanted to read your thoughts on this perspective! Have a nice week :)

You: sorry for my English Also you: eloquently speaks in English better than many native English speakers, including myself 🤡😂

Omg anon, you're getting bumped up on the ask queue because this is relevant to this last chapter. Thanks so much for sharing the thoughts! This is good stuff.

I'm not going to lie, I am on camp "he's ded 💀", but all of these arguments in favor of him being alive are good stuff. Gege is so unpredictable that he might just bring him back from the dead all JC style SCREAMING IN SYMBOLISM NERD.

The thing is that ego death is metaphorical, right? And ego death is a prerequisite for the kind of growth you describe for a character that created a metaphorical barrier around himself with a self-ascribed identity as the strongest.

I've gone on the record ok like who's keeping the record lol that Gojo needed to die because I truly believe that, as the pinnacle of the very thing he sought to bring down, he simply needed to die. But after this conversation and littleholme's post, I like the more nuanced approach that, yeah, that attitude he held needed to die AND be reborn into something else.

Whether he can come back from said "death" or not is still up in the air. Everything is fair game at this point with jjk!

Thanks for reaching out, the comments, but above all, sharing your thoughts!

[mok-a-chino]

Things that made me realize I was autistic:

(You can be autistic and don't feel the same way as me, and u can be not-autistic and have some things in common with this. I do this to feel understood and to make others feel they're understood too)

- I hate receiving gifts. Mainly because people think I'm ungrateful cause I don't show emotion and happiness. I had to learn how to say thank u and smile by practising on the mirror

- Added to that, I've always felt bad about myself cause I hardly ever knew how I felt and I could only show emotions if they were easily identifiable like extreme happiness or anger. It's not that I don't feel anything, but I don't know how I'm feeling and how to show it

- My mother always called me crazy cause I'm obsessed with textures. I hate some food because of how they feel in my mouth. I hate clothes because of how they feel in my skin. I always have to touch everything I see and if something feels pretty I get excited and have to show everyone how that feels

- When I talk about something I'm interested in I move my hands WAY TOO MUCH. People always told me to stop moving them cause it distracts them

- I've always hated crowded places like parties, shopping centres, or even houses with more than three people. Too many noises, too many lights, and people talking at the same time makes me nauseous

- When I was little I collected shiny rocks and those paperboard clothing labels that u have to remove from new clothes, and a lot of random things. Now I collect bookmarks and random strings and threads

- When I like a book, movie or series I become too obsessed, so obsessed I start to think or act like my favourite character until I realize what I'm doing and I get uncomfortable with myself. I get hyperfixated, I have to draw, learn facts about the actors, watch interviews, edits, fanarts, fanfics, etc. It becomes my life and personality until I move to the next hyperfixation

- After I have a social interaction that lasts for more than two hours I have to isolate myself. If it's a party or other social activity that's "too much", I "turn myself off" for like a week

- I'm way too aware of how much eye contact I do and it makes me uncomfortable. I don't know if I see too much or I don't see enough. When I feel down I can't look at others eyes. My mother always got mad about that

- I only understand jokes if they are too obvious and the "Joke voice" (if that makes sense) is too exagerated. Once my dad saw a leaf and yelled it was a cockroach and all my family laughed and I didn't understood why, so I said "... That's a leaf", and all of them were like "Of course it's a leaf, he's joking, learn to have fun"

- I didn't have any friends in primary school and in highschool I only had one friend who lasted with me for more than two years. People couldn't understand why I didn't like to hang out a lot, they thought I didn't like them so they got mad at me. When I tried to explain that I have to have like a week before the plan to prepare myself, so I don't go to plans made in the instant, they told me I'm boring and began to exclude me from groups and activities

There are more things but these are the "huge" ones. If u want more just tell me and u shall receive.

Please don't use this as a self-diagnose tool, neither as the only tool if u do so. I've looked for information for years to get to where I am today.

(PS: sorry if something is wrong written, english is not my first language)

[dissociacrip]

i wanna punch anyone who says "just stay home" to people irt anything about disability or otherwise frames staying home most or all of the time as an easy, consequence-less existence in the throat. this includes mental disability, but i'm especially talking about physical disability here.

i am ambulatory and not bedbound or housebound and i won't claim that experience. i'm also (mostly) capable of living independently. but part of the reason i didn't understand i was physically disabled for so long is because i have, up until this point, spent most of my life at home and in bed unless i was in school. i didn't go out with friends on a regular basis and most of the long outings i've been on were when i was less sick (even though i was born disabled) or when i was too young to understand that what i was experiencing was - in fact - not normal and not how "healthy" and "functioning" bodies work. having to work, having to be much more physically active, is what has really highlighted that my body doesn't work properly to me.

so like, the only way that i can avoid pain and suffering is by being at home. in bed. doing nothing. i get physically worn out just from sitting up and folding my clothes.

and i'm fed up with it because now that i'm in a situation where i can actually go out and do things with people, where getting to go out and do these things is bringing to my attention that i am in fact a cripple with limited physical capacity, i'm realizing how fucking miserable it is to be home all the time. because before i didn't really have a point of comparison. when i don't get to see people and socialize for a while my mental problems start jacking up too. my boyfriend tells me that working from home is probably the most accessible option for me once i graduate, but i don't want to because being home all the time. fucking sucks. and while my current jobs are manual labor that makes me miserable in other ways due to my body not working correctly, at least it's an excuse to get out of the house and be around other people.

not being able to participate in society to the same extent as others, barring the fact that said participation does open up some more avenues to ableist violence in my experience (sometimes i ask myself what is even the point if society evidently doesn't WANT me participating in it), is miserable. being home all the time and not getting to experience what is conventionally framed as "real life" is miserable. being isolated and cut off from the world fucking sucks.

not to mention isolation makes some of us so much more vulnerable to certain forms of violence - e.g. being stuck with abusive family and caregivers. just look at how abuse/domestic violence spiked during the height of the pandemic.

and if it sucks for someone like me, imagine how it is for people who are housebound or bedbound. or who are avoiding being in public nowadays because COVID could kill them and most people and institutions have thrown all precautions for that to the wind. this isn't even going into the ways in which society physically bars us from the public thanks to inaccessibility.

i remember when the lockdown first happened and a bunch of abled people were talking about how miserable it was to be stuck inside all the time and 1. my immediate thought was "welcome to the fucking club, this has been my life for ages" bc i'm a bitter asshole and 2. i wonder how many of those people make any kind of active effort to make the public safer and more accommodating to disabled people, including masking, whether they know them personally or not, because while maybe they can return to a "normal" life, some of us have never gotten that chance in the first place, do not have that chance right now, and those things are inextricably linked to the way society is structured and the oftentimes the decisions abled people make in their everyday lives.

so stop telling immunocompromised and high-risk people that they should "just stay home" and also stop pretending people who spend most or all of their time at home due to disability reasons are lucky or privileged.

[nanasgardenisfullofyou]

it's just hitting me now...

found myself crying to sleep last night, and no, i am not trying to be dramatic here. i am a slow person. it takes time for me to been fully aware what's going on around me and allow myself to feel. the only reason i have to write about this is because i feel suffocated and exhausted. i need to let this out.

i remember tweeting "oh build" when i found out about the new accusations poi made against him, i thought "how on earth could he get in trouble again in less than 6 months".

yes, i doubted. i wanted the truth. i was trying to be loyal to what my heart was feeling the moment everything went down. don't misunderstand me. i think it's admirable to take a stand and stick to it without hesitation and no second thoughts. i'm not like that. as a daughter who had to live and grow up seeing his father doing the unthinkable, is unacceptable to me. i don't stand for violence. i wanted to see the other side of the coin even when Poi had done nothing at all to gain my empathy. for me she was, is and will continue to be problematic. however, she is still human and a women. "if she were my mom, or my sister, or my nephew"... probably this is just me being uncapable to be selfish enough for once. it's my trait if you want.

i never had bad feelings towards build, either justified him. when the first scandal came it was the same. and I knew that not rushing to hate him, sending hateful comments and starting a campaign of hate and slander like many people did didn't make me an accomplice or a sinner. i was deeply hurt. and I embraced that pain all this time, the only way i could: waiting. just waiting for an explanation, an statement. while deep down all i wanted while poi started a fire was to that day to come to an end so next day everything was okay. but that day never came, it was the beginning and things just got worse.

days went by and just when I thought it was finally going to come to an end Build shows up again to say he would fight for his right to a defence and to be heard in court, because no matter what he said no one was going to believe him, but in order to do that he would have to resign. he didn't wanted to drag anyone with him. he looked sad, heartbroken and upset. again, i am an slow person. i couldn't process his words. so i didn't cry, felt or said anything. i returned to where i was. i waited, except that there was nothing to wait for.

apparently it was build who was hurting all this time and we didn't know. he was living in fear and we didn't know. he was being isolated, unable to stand for himself. smiling and pretending to be okay in public, being tormented and tortured in private. and none of us knew.

to this day, Build has dissapeared. in every way someone can dissapear. and all i have now are pictures and videos and an empty chat conversation on instagram that i keep coming back to. all i can think is about the words... the same words he once told me, the words that reached me out in a day of darkness, are the words i should have told to him in a day of disspair. 

now i can't stop thinking that somehow i let him down. 

i should have known. i should have listened. 

his tears should have given me a sign. 

it's just hitting me now that build is not here... and it's just hitting me now that i will never see him laughing beside bible, his friends, the people that once became his family, his safe place, and his home.

I once read a mutual say "i should have watched kinnporsche and moved on". but if someone ever ask me why I didn't, it was because I loved the idea of seeing a family start from scratch, I wanted to be a part of it, be there for them and see them grow up. but now I must see one of the 16 go another way, and not knowing when I will see them in one frame makes me feel that something is missing.

a part of me is missing and it's just hitting me now.

lastly to build, if you ever happen to see this:

I love you; I am you. 💙