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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

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Aversion Therapy

Summary: Y/N has been institutionalised for sex addiction at an experimental facility, run by Dr. Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Doctor!Sam x Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: Sex addiction, addiction therapies, abuse of therapist/patient relationship, noncon roleplay Tags: hair pulling, crotchless panties, degradation (like, a lot), blow job, spitting, pussy spanking, sex on a desk, body writing, p in v, pulling out Word Count: 4.5 k Created for: @samwinchesterbingo - Doctor!Sam | @spnkinkbingo - Crotchless Panties | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Hair Pulling | @j3bingo - Diary

A/N: So I this may or may not be one of the dirtiest things I've ever written. It's definitely up there in the list 😅I hope you enjoy, fellow sinners!

October 24th

Last night was awesome. He took me out to dinner and everything, real gentleman, even though we both knew that’s not what the night was about. It was sunset when we got up to the lookout, all romantic. I felt silly that he was making such a big deal about it. Losing your virginity shouldn’t be so much pressure. Now it’s over I don’t feel any different except that I want more. We went twice last night but that still wasn’t enough. I touched myself this morning and it was almost like I could still feel him inside of me. I think tonight I’m gonna let him do it without the condom, so he will still be inside me tomorrow morning.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shout, outraged. It wasn’t enough that your parents had locked you in this place, humiliating you, betraying you, handing you over to Doctor Judgy, but they’d handed over your diaries too. Fucking great. Dr. Winchester ignores you and keeps reading, skipping ahead a few weeks.

November 15th

Fuck I love sex. Even with guys that aren’t great at it it’s still worth it just to have a cock inside me. I wish I could stay the night somewhere without my parents freaking out. I want to fall asleep with a cock inside me the whole time, wake up to it fucking me, keeping me open. College is gonna be the best. Then I can finally do what I want, fuck who I want. Can finally order a freaking vibrator without mom asking what’s in the package. Ugh, I can’t wait.

Sam’s voice sounds unnatural reading out your words. He’s not putting the right emotion or inflection in them. It’s like he’s taunting you with them. There’s a trace of humour underlying everything he says.

“Why are you doing this?” you shout again, and Sam looks up at you from your diary, a smug smile on his lips.

“Because you’re sick, Y/N,” he states it like an obvious fact, shutting the diary with a loud clunk and waving it back and forth. “These are the words of an addict.”

“I’m not an addict,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. Sam raises his eyebrows at you and flicks open your diary again, thumbing through to a page he has marked with a turned down corner.

February 3rd

That’s it, I’m addicted to cock. I need it more than coffee or air or food. I just want to be on my knees all day and let men use me. I want them in my mouth, in my pussy, even in my ass, I don’t care. I just want them. One day I’ll figure out how to make that happen.

Sam gives you an accusatory look as he closes the diary again, and you do have the good sense to look a little sheepish. Having your thirsty words read back to you is embarrassing. Especially considering the man reading them out is extremely attractive. If you’d met him when you were out you would have been on him in a heartbeat.

You can’t help it, your eyes drop to his crotch, which is just below your eye level where he’s leaning against the front edge of his desk. Dr. Winchester notices your gaze and smirks down at you knowingly. The expression makes him even hotter – domineering and sexy.

“You really are a little slut. Get carted off to rehab and the first thing you do is eye up your therapist,” he clicks his tongue disappointedly, and you blush for a moment before you decide that you don’t want to take this shit from him.

“So what,” you shrug, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. Dr. Winchester raises a brow again, surprised by your boldness.

“You don’t think it’s inappropriate to think about your therapist in a sexual manner?” He pushes himself off his desk and settles his hands in his pockets, considering you carefully.

“I like cock, so what?” you say again defiantly. The doctor keeps his expression neutral, walking around his desk and sitting down, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down a few things. You watch him suspiciously, wanting to know what he was writing down. “I’m not crazy, I just really like sex.” Dr. Winchester nods and keeps writing, not looking up at you.

“Come on, are you saying you don’t like sex?” you try to rile him up, and you see a small laugh bleed through his careful exterior, but not the kind of reaction you were hoping for. “What, your manhood not measure up or something?” That gets the doctor’s attention. He shoots you a glare over his desk and puts aside his pen, folding his hands in front of him and staring you down. His eyes drag across you from top to bottom, lingering on your lips, your neck, your cleavage, your legs. You like him looking at you like this, it sends a thrill through your chest, settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I can see that your attitude is going to make traditional therapies somewhat difficult.” You roll your eyes, but let him keep talking. “Have you heard of aversion therapy?” You shake your head shortly. “Aversion therapy is a psychological treatment in which the patient,” Dr. Winchester gestures to you, “is exposed to a stimulus while simultaneously being subjected to some form of discomfort, in an attempt to discourage said behaviour.”

“Um, English, please?” you stare at the doctor blankly, not putting together how this is going to apply to you.

“Well,” Dr. Winchester leans back in his chair, and swings his legs up onto his desk and brings his hands to fold in his lap. It makes him look surprisingly casual - not at all the image you had of doctors and therapists in your mind. “In this case, the stimulus is an unwanted behaviour, your over zealous sexual cravings and actions. We need to introduce an element of discomfort or unpleasantness into your experience of that behaviour, to discourage future indulgences,” he explains.

“What are you gonna do, Doctor?” you sneer at his title. “Put me in an electroshock chair and make me watch porn? Newsflash - that sounds amazing,” you scoff. Honestly, if that’s going to be your therapy, you’ll drop the attitude and sign the fuck up right now.

Dr. Winchester shakes his head, a small smirk on his lips. He stands, removing his jacket and tossing it on the back of the chair, then proceeds to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves and roll them back, one at a time. You watch him suspiciously. The moment his jacket came off your head went straight to one conclusion, but that couldn’t be right. You find your eyes lingering on his forearms, the veins in them pulsing visibly just below the surface of his skin. You want to lick them.

“No you’re right, you’d enjoy that far too much.” The doctor’s voice brings you back to yourself and you look up, watching him slowly approaching your chair. “We won’t be associating a physical discomfort with the addiction, what we want is to alter your mental associations towards the behaviour. We’ll use a series of mantras, and repetition and after a period of good, focused work, we can start to transition you back to a home environment.” His hand comes up to grip the back of your wooden chair, right beside your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body against your skin despite the several inches still separating you.

Between your legs, you can feel how much Dr. Winchester’s proximity is beginning to affect you. For some reason the way he’s speaking to you, so formal and condescending, is really turning you on. You bet if he knew, he’d just say it was another sign of your “addiction”. You can feel your panties starting to get a little slippery when you shift in your seat to look up at him, and you don’t manage to stifle your small intake of breath when the open crotch of the underwear accidentally catches on one of your pussy lips, sending a delicious tug of pain into your core.

Dr. Winchester smirks down at you, entirely unsubtle, probably assuming that gasp was your reaction to him being so near.

Finally, after far too long staring at him, you manage to take a breath and ask- “what exactly is my therapy going to be, then?” Your voice comes out much higher than you’d anticipated, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Dr. Winchester’s hand drags along the top of the chair and lands on the back of your neck. You shiver when his skin touches yours, despite its warmth. His fingers wind themselves into your hair a second later and yank hard, pulling your head over the back of the chair so you’re forced to look straight up at him.

“Ow! What the hell?!” You reach behind you to try to break his grip but he just pulls again. The pain sends a new tendril of desire twisting down your spine to between your legs, and you feel your panties getting even wetter. You whimper, your arousal clearly evident to the doctor, who laughs.

“Yeah, I knew you’d be too into pain for that kind of thing to work,” he chuckles darkly. He bends down, face so close to yours you can feel his breath ghost against your cheek. “So here’s what we’re going to do instead. I’m gonna fuck you, but you’re going to make sure you don’t enjoy it. You’re going to cry and yell and beg me to stop.” He practically growls, nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just out of reach.

Your pussy clenches at his words, aroused beyond belief at the disdain he’s treating you with. You struggle against his grip deliberately, relishing in the renewed sting as his hand pulls your hair even tighter to keep you still.

“You really don’t get it, do you Dr. Winchester,” you try to laugh but your throat is taut and your air isn’t quite flowing easily enough to let you. “I like cock. I wanted you to fuck me the second I saw you. There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me want you to stop.”

“I think we can drop the formalities now,” he releases you, standing up and reaching for his belt. “It’s Sam, not ‘Doctor Winchester’.”

Your eyes drop to his hands immediately, watching his fingers deftly push his button through its hole and pull down his zip. He’s already hard, you can tell by the tent in his boxers, but you’re astonished to see when he pulls himself out that he’s actually only semi hard – his cock is just huge. You feel your mouth and your pussy water in equal measure.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he starts to stroke himself, eyes tracing up and down your body hungrily as he does so.

“You want this cock, Y/N?” he asks pointedly, and you nod mutely. “Use your words then.”

“Yes,” you breathe instantly, dropping to your knees on the hard, grey carpet in front of him.

“Then you don’t get it,” Sam smirked, contradictorily walking himself closer to you as he speaks, hand still pumping his cock.

“Please?” you beg, hoping that’s the game he’s trying to play. Maybe he thinks he can humiliate you enough that you won’t want to repeat the experience – he’s going to be wrong.

“Nope.” Sam pops the ‘p’ on the word teasingly. “Your mantra for today is ‘no’.”

“What?” you look up to him, confused.

“Anytime I ask you if this is what you want – if you want my cock in your mouth, in your pussy, anywhere I want to put it – anytime I ask you if you want it, you have to say ‘no’,” he smiles down at you like some kind of evil genius, and you’re getting annoyed now that you find this so fucking hot.

“You want me to pretend you’re raping me? Sounds like you need therapy.” Sam laughs, not at all offended by your jab.

“We’re trying to condition a new response, Y/N,” he explains lightly, still jacking himself off maddeningly close to your lips. It takes every ounce of self control you have not to lean forward and suck him down on the spot. “If you want my cock inside you, then you have to tell me you don’t. And hopefully, with time, you’ll start to believe what you’re saying out loud. You’ll believe that you don’t need this, don’t want this.” He taps his cock against your lips and your tongue chases him immediately, reaching for a taste of the liquid you felt pooling on his tip.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he pulls himself away, tutting. “What do you say, Y/N?”

You swallow your pride and give him what he’s asking, though begrudgingly.

“No, please, don’t.” Your voice is monotone, lifeless – like how you used to read out loud in English class when the teacher called on you.

“C’mon, you know that’s not good enough. How are you going to believe yourself if I don’t believe you?” Sam walks closer again and sets his cock against your mouth lightly. “You wanna suck my cock, baby?”

“No,” you manage to choke out, and your hesitance to say the word must sound like hesitance to give him a blow job because Sam buys it, and the next moment he’s pushing the shiny, pink head past your lips, against your tongue; not stopping until he hits the top of your throat. He pulls back again, taking himself completely out of your mouth.

“You want it?” he asks again, grinning down at you.

“No,” you whimper, while inside every fibre of your body is screaming – yes!

“Good girl,” he groans as he pushes himself back inside, and you moan along with him. This time he doesn’t stop himself, fucking all the way into your throat until your nose is pressed against the skin of his stomach. “Fuck, you really are a cockslut,” Sam grunts above you, pulling back a little and starting to fuck your mouth in earnest. “You haven’t gagged once. Not many girls manage that with me.”

You believe him. Your jaw is already aching from the stretch of your lips around his girth but you savour the hurt. You love this; being on your knees for some guy you barely know with his cock shoved as far in as he can fit it. This is what you were made for, you know it, no matter how hard Sam’s going to try to talk you out of it.

He fucks your throat for a few more minutes, lulling you into a false sense of security. You’ve relaxed into it now, and you aren’t thinking about the therapy or the role play or any of it, you’re only thinking about his cock against your tongue, heavy and velvety and perfect. You cry out when he pulls away, taking in a shocked breath at the sudden emptiness.

“You want it back baby girl?” Sam asks breathlessly, and you allow yourself a moment to feel smug at how clearly affected he is by your ministrations.

“Please,” you beg, crawling towards him, forgetting your lines. Sam pulls away, disappointment evident on his face.

“Wrong answer, Y/N.”

“No!” you shout hoarsely, trying to correct yourself. “I mean no, please, no.”

“No,” Sam sucks in a breath, reaching to pull up his trousers like he’s going to put himself away. “No, I don’t think I believe you.”

“No, Sam, please!” you beg, reaching out for him. “I can do this,” you whisper, and Sam lets you take his cock in your hand, wrapping his fingers over yours and guiding your strokes. “Ask me again?”

“Do you want my cock, Y/N?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say firmly. “No, don’t make me do this.”

“Good girl,” he says again, his hand tightening over yours and using you to jerk himself off. “Do you want my cock, Y/N?”

“No,” you whine, trying to play into it even though your fingers start trying to jack him off faster of their own accord, your hands slipping together over the saliva you’d left behind.

“Do you want my cock in your pussy?” Sam growls, reaching his free hand out to snag your hair and pulling hard, causing you to shout out in delicious pain.

“No!” you squeal, trying to pull out of his hold, hoping you can act your way through this convincingly enough to get what you really want.

“No, whore?” Sam spits on you harshly, the wet striking you on the cheek and dripping down your chin.

“No,” you scream again as he pulls you off of the ground by your hair, throwing you forwards over his desk. Books and pads of paper go crashing to the ground. Pens scatter around you when your elbow hits the mug that was holding dozens of them.

“No?” you hear Sam scoff as he flips up the hem of your patient-issued uniform skirt, spotting the pair of crotchless panties you’re wearing beneath. “You’re telling me a slut like you, who gets put in an insititution for sex addiction, and decides to pack crotchless fucking panties, doesn’t want my cock stuffing her cunt full?”

“No, I don’t want it,” you moan, his words positively setting you on fire. Fuck, you want everything he’s saying and more.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” Sam spits between your legs, adding to the slick that must be visibly gathered there by now.

“No!” you cry out when he delivers a stinging blow to your pussy, palm landing right over the open slit of your panties. “No,” you sob out again as he continues to spank you, each hit making a sickly wet echo and sending a jolt of heat through your clit every time his fingers happen to catch it. “No, no, no,” you’re begging, even as you spread your legs wider and push your hips back into his hand, trying to angle yourself so he hits your small bundle of nerves more frequently.

“You’re fucking loving this aren’t you,” Sam is seething behind you. “I can feel how wet you are, you fucking whore. You want my cock now, huh? Want me to put all this slick to good use?” He dips his fingers into the crotch of your panties and comes away with his fingers drenched in your juices, which you see a moment later when he shoves them in your face, yanking you back by your hair again.

“See this slut? See how I can tell you’re lying to me? What’s all this for if it’s not to get you ready for my cock?”

“N–” you try to protest, needing him to believe you if you want to actually feel his cock inside you, but your words are cut off as he shoves his fingers into your mouth, making you lick yourself off his hand.

“That’s right, taste what a fucking embarrassment you are.” Sam lets go of your hair and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers reaching for one of the pens that you knocked onto the desk earlier. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he uncaps the pen and crouches down behind you, putting your pussy at eye level for him.

“I think we should let the world know just how much of a slut you really are.” You wonder what he means, feeling him draw a single line down your right buttock, then switching to your left and writing some words. “Now anyone who fucks you is gonna see my instructions, and know they have to leave a tally mark right here.” He slaps your ass hard where he had just drawn his own. “And every time you come back to me for a session with more tallies than you left with the last time I saw you, that’s just one more time you’re gonna have to go through this with me. To make sure we really break you out of this habit.”

You silently wonder how many guys there are in this hospital that you might want to fuck. He spanks you again and you clench, pussy convulsing at the threat and the thought of men keeping count of the cocks you’ve taken by literally writing it on your body. You feel a trickle of slick start to make its way down your thigh, and you know Sam must have noticed because he laughs darkly.

“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Are you already planning how to rack up your score as soon as I let you out of this office?” he sneers vehemently.

“No,” you shake your head, even though it’s entirely true. “No, I don’t want that, I promise, I don’t.”

“But you still want my cock?” Sam questions, and you feel the tip of his dick start to drag against you, up and down the slit of your panties.

“No, I don’t want it,” you insist, trying to keep yourself from pushing back onto him.

“Good girl, Y/N,” Sam pets at your lower back and braces himself as he starts to sink in. You both moan when he enters you, but to your chagrin he stops when he only has an inch or so inside. “You want me to keep going?” he pants, and you’re pleased to hear that he’s not as composed now that he’s got the head of his cock wedged between your legs.

“No,” you shake your head quickly, silently praying for him to continue.

“Very good,” he groans, and begins to thrust into you again; tiny, sharp motions to ease himself into you bit by bit.

“No, stop,” you whine without prompting, hoping to encourage him to go faster. He does. “No, no, no,” you chant until he’s sheathed himself completely inside you, his hips pressed firmly into yours, his hands squeezing around your waist possessively.

“No?” Sam asks teasingly, pulling out a little.

“No!” you cry again, and this time you do mean ‘no’ – you don’t want him to leave you. At your cry Sam pushes back in harshly, snapping his hips back against yours and moaning, the sound bubbling up deep from his chest. “No,” you try repeating the phrase, testing your theory, and you’re rewarded by Sam withdrawing and fucking back into you piercingly.

“Please stop, please,” you whimper, not able to stop yourself from rocking back into his thrusts as Sam starts a punishing pace.

“You fucking liar, you love this you little cockslut,” Sam grunts pointedly, taunting you.

“No,” you insist, still meeting him thrust for thrust. “No I don’t want this, I don’t want you!”

“You’re always going to want cock, always gonna beg for it.”

“No!”

“You want me to stuff you full everyday don’t you? Maybe more than that. I bet you’d sit under my desk all day with my cock in your mouth if I told you to,” he laughs, his harsh pace becoming even quicker. He’s not fucking you deeply now but that means that every time he pushes in the head of his cock punches hard against the sweet spot on the front of your pussy, making you clench around him.

“No,” you shudder, feeling yourself close to the brink of your release, and you wonder what he’ll do when you cum – a clear demonstration that you’re fucking loving this, despite what you’re saying out loud.

“Say it louder, bitch,” he grunts, reaching down and spanking hard against your clit.

“No, no, stop!” you shout, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his cock, your orgasm just out of reach.

“You want to cum on my cock?” Sam slaps you again but then starts to rub tiny circles just where you need them.

“N–no,” you stutter, unable to hold back your moan.

“You don’t want to cum baby, you sure?” he teases, angling his hips so he’s fucking your sweet spot with each drive into you.

“No,” you whine, voice pitching higher as you feel yourself right there.

“No?” You can hear from Sam’s voice that he’s pouting at you, mocking you. “You don’t want to cum baby? Not gonna cum on my big, fat cock fucking you so good?” You clench around him, your toes curling, straining… “Come on you little slut, fucking cum already. Thought whores like you were supposed to be easy? Huh? Want you to cum for me, Y/N.”

“No, no, no, no, no–” you lose track of what you’re saying as you cum, screaming into your arm so you don’t accidentally say something to make Sam stop fucking you. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and your come down, hips snapping more and more erratically as you bury your face in his desk and try to catch your breath.

Suddenly, the weight of his body is gone, and then there’s a warm jolt between your legs, and you know he’s cumming – aiming his load at the top of your panties and letting it drip down through the open crotch. You moan high in your throat at the feeling of his release soaking into your underwear, mixing with your own juices, which are already leaking out of you and dripping onto his desk.

“That was a really good session, Y/N,” Sam says, and you’re surprised to hear how composed he sounds, though a little breathless. “I think this is going to be a good strategy for you.” He walks around to the other side of his desk and starts to pick up the books and papers you’d knocked down earlier.

Slowly, you peel yourself up off his desktop, your skin sticking to the surface with sweat that’s already started to dry.

“Go clean yourself up, Y/N,” Sam instructs, not looking at you as he continues to tidy his desk. You turn to go, still in your post-orgasmic daze, but you spin back around when Sam calls your name again. “Oh, and Y/N?” you look at him curiously, and a smirk curls slowly across his lips as you watch. “You better keep the tally marks, or there’ll be consequences next session.”

“Yes, Dr. Winchester,” you agree quietly and slip out of his office into the hallway, walking back to your room behind an orderly, with Sam’s cum still dripping down your thighs. You think about the tally he’d left on your body, and you look up at the orderly, who’s now stopped at the door to your room and holding it open for you.

As you pass him, you keep your eyes trained at the ground, and glance sideways to surreptitiously inspect the man next to you. The hospital scrubs do nothing to hide his endowment. You smile brightly, bringing your eyes up the rest of his body, taking in the muscles in his arms and the name tag on his chest, before landing on his face.

“Thanks, Dean.” You walk into your room, eyes flicking back to see Dean still standing there, watching you walk towards your bed. You bend over to grab something off the bottom shelf of your nightstand, not caring what you grab, just knowing that you’re now giving Dean a full display of your ass – Sam’s writing and Sam’s cum decorating your skin.

The door behind you shuts quietly.

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kosmosguk · 4 years

Text

Fôret de Cauchemars (M)

Pairing: sleep psychiatrist kim namjoon x reader

Word Count: 6.3K

Summary: Plagued by nightmares of your boyfriend’s death, you turn to sleep psychiatrist Kim Namjoon for help. What you find in him is condolence in your isolated world, a ray of sunlight breaking through gaps of rotting leaves. What you find in him is a dream, a beautiful dream, until that dream shatters to reveal the true nightmare underneath. Sometimes, nightmares seamlessly blend into reality, and, unfortunately, waking up simply won’t make them go away anymore.

Warnings: Yandere themes, death, murder, mature themes (bondage, cunnilingus, unprotected sex), smut, violence, kidnapping, self-loathing, psychological disorders, manipulation, mentions of suicide, gore

A/N: Finally back with a fic in a...month? Sorry for the delay; the work load of classes this year has been a real bonk to the vibes, but hopefully testing out a oneshot fic will get me back in the writing energy. Happy fall, and maybe (just maybe) we’ll vibe it up with a new spooky series featuring our beloved yandere bangtan boys! Dedicated to Namjoon’s birthday (although it’s been weeks), and hopefully Jungkook’s birthday fic will be up next. Unfortunately, this means next release of Lineage might not be until October/early November, but I hope you guys stick around!

You didn’t quite know when the nightmares began.

They were unconscious little pricks of fear, the kind that crawled under your skin into your skull and left you with a cold sweat and rapid heartbeat. You always forgot them when you woke up, but their influence was engraved into your bones and etched in every sleep-deprived jolt of paranoia and every accusatory glance you threw to your empty surroundings. You felt eyes on you, even though the remnants of your fading rationality knew that there was nothing there.

Each night filled with the conflict of battling off your body’s desire to sleep left you even more exhausted and even more terrified of some nameless entity that your sleepless mind had conjured up.

The nightmares did not stop. They refused to stop; you knew you needed to solve it somehow. That brought you to the moment of now, in the present, across from a sleep psychiatrist in an office with an air condition system that blew cold gusts of air against the back of your neck and left bumps of goosebumps rising up on your skin.

You curled in on yourself, picking at the ends of your sleeves until the threads became loose, as the sound of rustling paper flipping between your sleep psychiatrist’s fingers filled up the gaps of your sleep-deprived mind. You tentatively threw a glance at the man across from you.

If you weren’t nearly irrational from the lack of sleep, you would’ve been able to truly appreciate how handsome the man was. He was the kind of handsome that artists drew portraits and sculpted of and poets waxed long pages of sonnets about. With smoky gray hair slicked back, eyes curved elegantly behind silver-rimmed glasses, and a sharp mouth set back in a firm expression, Dr. Kim was the type of beautiful that you found in every sharp edge of an icicle.

However, it was unnerving how familiar you felt with his beauty.

“(Y/n) (L/n), correct?’’

His voice, a baritone that encased the chilly office air, drew you back into your blurry reality. You heard a soft click as he turned on his stopwatch. The soft ticking noise reverberated in the still room, just a tinge louder than the blast of the air conditioning. You nodded your head mutely before reaching up to rub at your sore, burning eyes.

“Yes…,” you fought back a yawn, and your words slurred a bit as tears prickled your eyes,” Sorry…’m jus’ tired.”

His gaze, previously neutral, softened a bit more at your pitiful state.

“Though it is currently difficult right now, we’ll work through any psychological stressors that may be causing your nightmares. When did the nightmares begin?’’

You blinked owlishly at him—well, you were more like a raccoon than an owl with how severe your dark circles were, though that was a jab of humor your dwindling mind allowed you on only rare occasions—as you tried to register his words.

“Hmm,’’ you rolled your shoulders back, and a dull ache throbbed through your body as you stretched it,” I don’t…really remember. I don’t remember a lot of things now. Can’t even remember what I did yesterday… Maybe…a couple months ago? They weren’t…weren’t as bad as they are now, so I didn’t really pay attention to them.”

“Have you tried any over the counter sleep medications?’’

You scratched your neck.

Tick, tick, tick.

“Tried a few, but the nightmares didn’t seem to go away. Woke up…,” you shook yourself as if to demonstrate,” cold sweat and everything after a bit. Nightmares came right away, which is weird cause I don’t think I’m even asleep long enough to enter REM.”

“We’ll try a stronger prescription to see if it’ll help you sleep better. Has there been any troubling situations lately? Some time before the nightmares started, right when they started, or even ongoing ones?’’

You blinked again, your eyelids scraping against your dry eyes.

“Hmm…Someone, uh, passed away… My boyfriend? Maybe these nightmares are about losing him, but I dunno…can’t remember them.”

“Would you like to talk more about this?’’ Though his tone was more gentle, Dr. Kim had a look in his eyes that seemed even more chilling than the artificially generated wind against your skin.

You didn’t pay attention. It took you a lot more effort to pay attention to things nowadays and noticing tiny almost unnoticeable things was even more difficult.

“Yeah…It was tough that time. He disappeared, and they found his body. Said he killed himself, but, uh,’’ you tugged even harder on the loose threads, your eyes glued to them,’’ I didn’t even notice the signs…”

“Do you blame yourself for what happened?’’

You blinked once and then twice and then thrice. You could not look at Dr. Kim, but there was a strange shift in the air. Maybe it was a delusional mix of emotions and sleep deprivation. Maybe it was something more. You settled on the former.

The next words came out a bit more choked than you wanted them to. You thought you might’ve cried if you weren’t already so mentally and physically exhausted.

“Yeah…I was his girlfriend. Shoulda seen the signs, but I was busy, and we were drifting apart…,” you bitterly mumbled,” No excuse, though. I have no excuses…”

A silence settled between the two of you. You felt like you had just bored some piece that you had crammed in your soul so tight that it drifted into your thoughts like a second poison. You were so tired; you wanted to tuck yourself into the leather chair and fall asleep to avoid how vulnerable you felt. You noticed him level his steady gaze on you.

“No one can see the signs. People are good at hiding the worst things affecting them, even from those they care for deeply and who care for them deeply. You can’t continue to blame yourself for events in the past that cannot be changed and let that blame affect the you of the present and the future. (Y/n), the first way to conquer your nightmares is to forgive yourself.”

For the first time in the meeting, you raised your gaze to meet Dr. Kim’s gaze straight on. Your eyes, vulnerable and holding onto a devastatingly deep sorrow, were surprised to see that the look in Dr. Kim’s eyes was not as pulled together as his words were. But maybe, as you unconsciously tugged on another thread so hard that it yanked out of your sweater sleeve and drifted to your lap, that was just another one of your delusions.

Dr. Kim’s words resonated throughout your mind on your commute home. They bore a weight on your mind as you slowly shuffled throughout the rest of your day, and they rang even stronger as you laid in bed.

When you closed your eyes, you felt yourself drifting off into the land of unconsciousness. You were running in a forest, clumps of dead grass, rotting leaves, and mud staining the soles of your feet, and your breath gusted out in sharp white puffs of air. The dew of the forest left a sheen on your skin as the wind brushing against your body chilled you to the bone. Underneath the whistle of the wind, you could hear the sound of something ticking.

Tick, tick, tick.

Something grabbed your ankle, sending you sprawling to the forest floor, and you threw a frantic glance at what had yanked you down. Tears built in your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You were trying to push yourself off the floor to keep running, but the branches and roots of the trees of the forest broke out from the floor and wrapped tight around your trembling form, pinning your quaking body to the muddy ground.

You saw a glimpse of a hand and part of an arm extending itself from the forest floor, dirt crusted under the fingernails and staining the crevices of the palm. The forest floor opened up, dirt jaggedly fragmenting and cracking open, as the body behind the hand emerged. You watched, petrified from your spot to the floor. The head pushed out from the forest floor first, and your eyes made contact with the sunken eyes of your dead boyfriend. You were screaming now, your voice hoarse, but no sound coming out. The ticking sound grew louder and louder, and you were crying even harder.

He was so pale that the moonlight trickled through his almost translucent skin, a corpse that dragged itself to the land of the living, and his dark hair was matted to his forehead. There was a sticky glint to the side of his head where his hair looked more clumped. You forced yourself to tear your gaze away from it.

“Why…Why did you leave me behind?’’ his voice was like a haunting croak. You could speak now, and your voice pitched into a petrified scream.

“I didn’t mean to…! I didn’t mean to! You told me to run! You told me to run!’’ your voice broke out of your throat, and it grew and grew in an unruly crescendo. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve never left you behi-“

You drew in a sharp inhale that suffocated you, leaving the last words still on your lips as you woke up in your bed. The chill of the forest left you; you were in your bed again, the sheets and blanket messily wrapped around your body. You had been thrashing in your sleep, sending pillows down onto the floor. The room was still dark, just a few moments before dawn. You got up, the cold sweat on your body leaving you breathless, and you blindly reached down to grab your pillows and throw them back onto your bed. Instead of touching the slippery silk covers of your pillows, your fingers met something soft and cuddly.

Your fingers wrapped around a tiny, stuffed arm, and you pulled up what the item was.

A scream tore out of your lips as you threw away the item. It was the stuffed bunny your boyfriend had given you the night of your first anniversary, the last night you had seen your boyfriend before he had pushed you to keep running; this was the very item you had dropped in your run out of the forest. You had left it there.

Why, why was it here?

Your head was hurting, and you dropped the plush animal back onto the ground. You hadn’t noticed the faint blood stains. Its faux fur was too dark for you to make out the splashes of dried brown red.

No, no, what do you mean you left it there? You never went in a forest. Your boyfriend overdosed. They found his body. You weren’t there; you were at home working— You sagged against your bed as your head pounded in throbbing agony.

No, you were here. You were here, waiting for him. It was your first anniversary. He was late. He never came home. You had gotten angry and had called him several times. And then…And then, you got the phone call the next morning that they found his dead body. He killed himself. You forcibly repeated that until it was ingrained in your head, and your breathing slowed down.

The next time you woke up, the sun was blindingly warm against your face, but the nightmare had already left your body cold long before.

You were seated across from Dr. Kim again. The dark circles were even worse today, and you fought back a yawn as he clicked his pen and pressed the tip against the pristine white of his notepad. You watched through watery eyes as your name elegantly swirled out in ink on the notepad.

“I’ve been sleeping the most I’ve ever had in a while, so, uh…Hah, would that even qualify as a perk?’’ you smiled weakly,” And I can remember my nightmares now, though that in itself is exhausting me more than the nights before the remembering ever could.”

His pen stopped right at the second curve of your name. He raised an eyebrow, his demeanor still as composed as ever. He was listening. He was the only one who would listen to you now. Well, you suppose he was the only one who listened because you were paying him for each second of his time.

“That’s good to hear. Remembering your nightmares can help us continue to identify and potentially reduce the impact of your psychological stressor. Continue to talk about them. What do you see?’’

“Uh,’’ you yawned this time, your yawn so big that it cracked your jaw and filled your eyes with tears,’’ They’re a little vague.’’

“It’s okay. You’ve made progress.”

“Mmm…if you say so.’’ You scratched your wrist, your gaze on the skin,” Well…I’m in a forest. Super scary. I think it’s the one they found my boyfriend in. And I’m running. And, uh, a hand comes out and grabs my ankle, and I try to break free…but…but I can’t, the trees are coming and they’re wrapping so tight…I can’t breathe.”

Your words sped up, and you didn’t know you were choking on your own breath until you let out a strangled cough at the last word.

“Keep on going.”

“And I—,’’ you’re tearing up now, sobbing slightly as you force the next words out through ragged breaths,” I look over, and it’s him! It’s him! He’s there! He’s climbing out…and he’s asking me why. Why! I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know!’’

Your voice heightened in its pitch, and you were just a whisper below a full-on yell. Your shoulders shook, trembling as the tears spilled out and splashed against your cheeks and dripped down your chin, and you were curling further into yourself as you fought to inhale a deep breath. Dr. Kim was out of his chair, his hands stroking your shoulder gently, and he was soothing you. He was holding you now. You buried your head into the collar of his shirt, staining the cloth with tears and snot.

This wasn’t professional, but Dr. Kim made no move to get away, and you didn’t care that you were probably violating some doctor-patient code of conduct rule. It had been so long since someone held you and stroked your back so kindly.

When you finally broke away from the hug to look at Dr. Kim, Dr. Kim brushed the drying tears off of your cheek, his finger glistening with your tears. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. This was wrong. Not only professionally, but your boyfriend…You couldn’t move on from him. But you couldn’t push away the only hand that was willing to dry your tears.

You somehow managed to look at him, your cheeks feeling hot, and you shakily whispered,” I’m…I’m sorry.”

Who were you apologizing to? Dr. Kim for having a mental breakdown, though his job in the very first place was to help you with mental breakdowns? Your dead boyfriend, who was rotting away 6 feet under for finding solace in another man? Or you, poor innocent you who had suffered so much?

He tenderly smiled at you, the warm look strange compared to his usual stony expression but oh so comforting.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s normal.” He cleared his throat, his expression turning cold again, and he was back in his leather chair.

Somehow, although the two of you had resumed as if was normal, you knew something had changed. Maybe it was when his arms were wrapped around your trembling form, his touch warming up your freezing body, or maybe it was the very moment you had sat down on the sofa across from him just a few minutes ago.

Or maybe, maybe something was different between the two of you all along.

You had the same nightmare again that very night. Well, it was not like it ever really changed, not when your psychological state of mind seemed to seek its purpose in rattling every single nerve in your poor body. But something seemed even more worse than usual in your dream.

The scent of mildew was the same, damply settling on the back of your tongue and in your throat, and you could smell something rotting underneath the sickly-sweet scent. However, that wasn’t what was off in your dream.

You weren’t running for the first time. No rapid breath escaped you; your chest rose and fell in even beats. That was your first indication that something was terribly wrong.

What a horrible irony bestowed upon you.

Your fears were confirmed when you heard something small and thin and sharp snap underfoot, and you turned slowly. Your mouth fell open in horror at the sight.

There was a skeleton, one with ivory bones that gleamed underneath the waxy moonlight, and something told you that that skeleton was your boyfriend. Your gaze darted to what made that terrible crackling sound: a foot clad in a leather shoe against the delicate bone wrist of your boyfriend’s postmortem state. Your eyes trailed up and up and up until they settled onto the face of the perpetrator.

“Dr. Kim?’’ the dream you, despite the roaring screams of your thoughts, smiled a coquettish one that stretched almost painfully on your face. You took steps forward, the mud staining your bare feet, and you felt bone snap and crackle and crumble underneath your weight as you got closer and closer, and Dr. Kim laughed as he swept you up in his arms and left a loving kiss on your lips.

“My beloved,’’ his hands trailed to your waist. You felt the bone underneath your feet turn into a mass of bloody flesh and bone. There was a streak of red carnage on Dr. Kim’s face that you hadn’t noticed before,” Oh, how I adore you.”

“Dr. Kim,’’ you whispered playfully into the side of his neck,” Dr. Kim, touch me.”

His fingertips brushed underneath your skirt, toying with the fabric of your panties, and you let out a breathy sigh of laughter as you opened your legs further. A squelch of flesh and blood underneath the soles of your feet accompanied your movement. As you looked up, your eyes tenderly swept his face and took in his features.

His handsome features, his strong jaw and his softly curved lips and the indents in his cheeks dappled underneath the romantic pale moonlight peeking through the trees, looked absolutely maniacal. His voice was amused, and it swathed the crisp air of the forest in a breathy husk that left you shivering in both pleasure and thrill.

“It’s what I’ve been waiting for all along, my beloved.”

You woke up with a start. Your pajamas were sticking to your body in a feverish sweat, and you pushed yourself up and off the bed. Your body was unused to the sudden movement, and your legs froze, sending you to a tumble to the floor.

“What the,” you stayed there on the floor, unable to move. Your breath was heightened and came out in shallow pants through your dry lips. “What the absolute fuck?’’

When you finally managed to get off the floor and onto shaky legs that trembled to hold your weight, your first action was to call the office and cancel your upcoming appointment with Dr. Kim. You didn’t mind the large fee that came from this cancellation; even the thought of seeing him after what had transpired between the two of you in both reality and the imaginary world left you disgusted with yourself. You could feel the aching throb in between your legs, a neediness still settled in your veins, and the wet spot you left on your pantie. Bile rose up in your throat as your mind engulfed in self-loathing.

You turned off your phone and threw it onto your bed. It bounced off and landed by your feet on the carpet. You swallowed a shriek of ragged frustration before getting up in quick desperate movements. The uncomfortable drag of the fabric of your panties seemed to remind you only more of your shame. You felt dirty.

You needed to be clean.

You stepped into the tub, turned on the faucet, and silently stood there as the shower sprayed cold water onto your still-clothed body. Inhaling a sharp breath, you closed your eyes again.

“I’m so sorry.”

Looking back, you wondered to yourself, what were you even sorry for? Wouldn’t it have been better to be sorry for yourself?

Perhaps it wouldn’t have ended the way it did if you had done that instead. But you’ll never know now. It was too late.

The echo of the clock ticking seemed to sound over the rush of cold water. Each click and swing brushed against the other, softly like the wind that brushed through the leaves and the branches and the trees and by the roots that bounded your feet to the dirt.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

You couldn’t keep cancelling your appointments.

Some part of you didn’t want to. You hated that part of you. But it was ingrained in you. Some part of you was addicted to Dr. Kim, addicted to the way he had tenderly held you, to the way his fingers had felt against the soft skin of your cheek as he wiped away acrid tears.

You were sitting across from him again. The soft, almost inaudible but painfully audible to you ticking of his wristwatch echoed in the silent room. There was no notepad in his hands again, nor rustling of paper forms between slender fingers to fill up the tension in the room; there was only his gaze rested on you. You couldn’t breathe.

You were yanking on the threads of your sweater again. The threads, loosened, snagged on your nails, and you dropped the soft material with a mental huff of displeasure. The setting of the sun outside of the window drowned the both of you in a peaceful warm orange hue…but you knew: there’s nothing peaceful going on. Not in your heart, not in the crevices of the office, not in the way Dr. Kim coolly smiled at you as if nothing was wrong…Nothing was peaceful.

“It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you.” If you thought too hard into it, you might have perceived his words as accusatory. But he was just your psychiatrist. There was no way he was going to cross the professional boundary between the two of you. The first time was already a mistake.

Or was it?

“How are you?’’ his words sent a thrill down your spine.

You looked at him through your lashes. You couldn’t seem to think properly when he was so near you. The smell of his cologne, musky and rich, settled in your throat.

“I’m,’’ you swallowed thickly before ducking your head back down,” I’m fine.’’

“Are you really?’’

Those words seemed to break you down.

“Yeah, I’m…I’m fine,’’ the heaviness of your voice gave the truth right away, and you were sobbing. The you of before, the you back in the past when you were better, had hated crying, but something about being in this office, with the air conditioning blasting heavily at the nape of your neck and the thought of Dr. Kim, Dr. Kim, Dr. Kim left you glued to the seat in tears.

You sucked in a shaky breath, fiercely wiping away tears with your sleeves until your skin stung; you didn’t even notice the tissue box that Dr. Kim picked up and placed by you. He was closer to you now, sitting next to you on the couch in his office, and you leaned in closer to him. You felt him stroke your hair, comforting. You melted into his warmth.

“I’m s-…sorry,’’ you stammered out,’’ It’s just…It’s just I’m feeling guilty.”

“Why do you feel guilty?’’ his voice, deeper than usual, brushed hotly against your ear, and you shivered. Was it the air-conditioning that chilled you to the bone, or was it something else?

Ironically, despite the icy feeling in your gut, you could feel the heat coming to your cheeks, and you swore there must’ve been some hint of a flush that gave away the rapid pit-pattering of your heart. The guilt swelled and crashed in your chest with every thump.

“I’m guilty because…because!’’ the words dried up in your throat, and you clenched your eyes shut as you forced them out through trembling lips,” I shouldn’t be viewing someone else like this.”

“Like what?’’

“In the way I viewed my boyfriend…I’m—,’’ you swallowed thickly.

“Who do you view this way?’’ The gentle stroking of your hair halted, and you peeked open your eyes. You couldn’t meet his gaze, though, and your eyes fell back down to your lap.

“Y-,’’ you sucked in a breath,’’ You, Dr. Kim.”

Tick, tick, tick.

The ticking of his stopwatch drew your attention, and you stared at it breathlessly as you waited for his reply.

He didn’t reply right away, and your heartbeat spiked painfully in your chest. You made a move to stand up, a torrid heat swelling up in your face as tears of embarrassment and guilt and shame pricked your eyes, and you pushed away from him.

“I-I should leave. I’ll cancel my appoint—,’’ your remaining words squeezed out in a surprised gasp as Dr. Kim’s hand encircled your wrist and pulled you to him.

His lips were against yours, the kiss bitingly rough, and you let out a surprised moan as you felt his hand cradle the back of your head and pull you closer to him. He sucked your breath right out of your lungs, and you meekly realized that you were drooling slightly out of the corner of your mouth as he probed his tongue through your lips and against the warm crevices of your mouth. He sucked on your tongue, and you made a soft startled mmph against his lips.

“Dr.—Dr. Kim!’’ you managed to place a trembling hand between the small gap between his chest and yours—you briefly admired the feeling of the muscles of his clothed chest against the palm of your hand—and pried your lips from his. Your eyes had watered in a wanton surprise; you looked like sin itself with the way you trembled and quaked and breathed shakily through swollen lips, a trail of saliva glinting on the corner of your mouth. “Dr. Kim, what—what are you doing?’’

“What do you think I’m doing?’’ his lips curved in an attractive teasing smile that caused shivers to roll down your spine,” Is it a sin to view you the same way you view me?’’

You sucked in a breath and opened your mouth. No further words of protest managed to come out.

Laughter, rough and hoarse, rumbled in his throat as he took off his jacket and loosened the tie around his white collared shirt. The setting sun cast shadows and made him look almost sinister. His voice was like a purr as he spoke.

“Then we’ll sin together. On your hands and knees.”

Some part of you trembled as you heard his voice. His voice was alluring, the way it wrapped around you and dragged you, limp and terrified, into a daze. You were flat on the palms of your hands and your knees before you knew it.

You felt his hands, cool and slightly rough, against the heated flesh of your exposed thighs, and they dragged up to your skirt and pushed it higher up around your waist, leaving only the exposed fabric of your soaked panties behind.

“Dr—Mmph!’’ you were about to question him, but the drag of his finger as it peeled away the flimsy string of your panties left you shivering in bliss. You made another move to question it; you tried your best. Your arms trembled, struggling to hold yourself up, as you felt his tongue drag against the outer folds of your pussy, and then he was devouring you.

His tongue brushed and stroked against your swollen clitoris, and you made a muffled moan through clenched teeth at the spine-tingling touch. And he was shoving his tongue deep into your walls; your walls shivered and quaked and trembled and tightened around his tongue, and you heard him grunt a muffled curse before you were coming.

Your toes curled, your eyes rolled back, and your arms collapsed, sending you careening into the plush arm of the sofa.

You tried to recover, but Dr. Kim didn’t let you recover. He pushed the fabric of your panties further down, and you made a muffled sound of protest as you felt something hot and hard against your sensitive pussy.

You were panting, breathless little whimpers leaving your lips. You were so sensitive; you couldn’t handle anymore. But he was already pushing his cock in.

“Dr. Kim, I’m so…,’’ you sobbed out, your hair a mess. You made a move to twist around, but he grabbed your wrists and, using the tie he had pulled out from around his neck, tied them together. You could only press your face, breathing out high-pitched gasps and moans, against the soft arm of the sofa as he pushed deeper and deeper into you.

The sensation was almost burning the way your walls stretched around his big cock. Oh god, he was bigger than your boyfriend, and you hadn’t fucked anyone since his death. You were tearing up, ready to open your mouth and tell him to stop it, when his cock finally was fully in. It felt like it was pressing against your womb with how deep it was. You made a choked cry.

“Dr. Kim…Dr.—Oh!’’ you keened in pleasure as he pulled out, his cock dragging against your gummy walls, and then pushed back in fully. He set an unforgivable pace, his hands firmly placed on your hips, and you swore you were getting fabric burns from the rough way the pace of his thrusts sent you crashing again and against into the sofa. Your tits bounced, and he grabbed one of them with a hand, stroking the clothed hard nipple with his finger. “Please…Please slow…Mmm! S-slow…slow down!’’

He didn’t slow down. If anything, it seemed like he sped up instead. You could feel your wrists getting red from the tie, but you didn’t care. You were getting so close to your next orgasm. You were already sensitive from the first orgasm, and Dr. Kim’s cock was dragging against your walls just right. You were so, so, so close.

“Dr. Kim!” you squealed out as your walls squeezed around his thrusting cock, and your eyes squeezed shut as you clenched hard down on him. He didn’t even pause, continuing to fuck you even through your orgasm. “Dr…Nngh! Dr. Kim…!’’

You were drooling again as he continued to pound into you, your sensitive pussy trembling fervently around him. You couldn’t think, not when his cock was rearranging your insides, and you could only shiver as he chased his own orgasm with your wet pussy.

He was pounding against your cervix, the sensation leaving little pricks in the nerves underneath your skin, and then you felt him twitch. You realized, with heightened panic, that he wasn’t wearing a condom and made a panicked move to stop him, but he was filling you with hot cum and your eyes were rolling back as you reached another orgasm. He pulled out, his cum staining the bare skin of your ass, and you felt his cum ooze out slightly from your walls.

You twitched, your ass still up and your arms sore from being pinned to your back. You couldn’t move. Not when your brain couldn’t even form coherent thoughts, and you were left spent.

“With the way you haven’t moved,’’ his voice lowered to a predatory tone,’’ Fuck, you make me so hard.”

He was hard again; you could feel it against your sensitive walls before he slammed back into you. You couldn’t even make a sound of protest, not when he had already fucked you thoroughly, before he was fucking you again. You heard the sound of his hips colliding into your ass, the sinful clap of skin together and the squelch of your juices around his invading cock and the rough drag of the fabric of his pants against your flushed skin. You were making panting noises, too tired to even moan. Your cheek rubbed against the sofa as he knocked against your quivering womb with each thrust.

His thrusts were as animalistic as the first time. He fucked you like he was stealing a part of his soul. He fucked you like he craved your existence. He fucked you as if you were his. And you took it, falling into the next orgasm and whimpering as he came again, quicker this time. He was filling you up, marking you from the inside out, and you… you could only moan as he did so.

He pulled out this time, and you couldn’t even hold yourself up. Your thighs trembled, the inner skin of them coated in an obscene mixture of his cum and your juices, and you clumsily fell to the sofa. You were drifting off, your eyelids closing, and you were, for the first time in a long, dissolving in bliss.

He draped his coat over your sticky body, and you felt him stroke your hair again. His touch was gentle, so gentle. Your eyes drooped further shut.

“Did he fuck you like I did? Make you more like the whore you are?’’ his voice was low, but you could hear it. When it came to him, you could always hear him. But you were too tired. You wanted to sleep. Maybe if you slept by him, the nightmares wouldn’t come.

He chuckled at your lack of response, smoothing the strands of your hair down, and you heard the faint sound of his ticking watch. If you looked closely, through half-lidded eyes, you could make out small scratches and a single crack on the watch’s glass.

“Good night, my beloved.” His voice was like a hum. You…you remembered that. You knew that voice long before you ever sat in front of Dr. Kim. Some part of you screamed, but that part was weaker, blurred by the calming strokes of his hand over your hair and the sweet daze of sleep that kissed your eyelids shut.

You were dreaming again. It was a nightmare. You were in the woods again, the wind in your hair, and you were laughing at a joke your boyfriend said. He gave you the stuffed animal, pretty and soft and comforting, and you were giggling in delight as you hugged it to your chest.

“Babe, I love—,’’ the words died in your throat as a gunshot cracked through the crisp forest night. You were screaming now, the previous words of your love confession dying in your chest as ragged yells dragged out of your throat. He fell down, fearful-stained eyes growing glassy, and you felt a splatter of blood against your hands that stained the stuffed animal you were cradling. You were sobbing, your hands trembling as you reached out to try to touch his paling face. His lips shivered as they made one final desperate yell.

“Run!’’

You turned on your heels and made a run for it. You broke through trees and branches whipped at your fast as you ran and ran and…A hand grabbed your hair and slammed you against the tree so hard you were left winded, and you were screaming madly in grief and fear and outright hysteria as you lashed out.

“Why are you after us? Why us? Why did you kill him? Why did you kill him? WHY DID YOU KILL HIM?’’

Your fingers snagged a watch, leaving scratches on the wrist of the perpetrator, and you yanked it off the wrist in the midst of your struggle. You kicked out, frantic and desperate, and the moonlight of the night hit the perpetrator.

Dr. Kim’s face glowed underneath the waning light, his handsome features twisted in a mad glee as you thrashed and thrashed, and he was laughing through a choked breath even when your foot crashed into his rib and sent him sprawling to the forest floor.

You didn’t even wait to turn on your heel, and you were running again.

“Good night, my beloved.’’

You heard him laughing in the distance after he spoke, the sound rough and coarse and haunting, and there was that ticking again resonating from his watch still drowning in the forest floor’s mixture of mud and branches and rotting leaves.

Tick, tick, tick.

You saw the edge of the forest, the blinding light of the lamppost flickering in the distance, and your foot caught on a root protruding from the dark ground. You crashed into the ground.

You fought to get up, but the mud was soft underneath your thrashing body, and you were sinking into it. It swallowed your feet and your hands first, and you were sobbing in hysteria as it began to swallow up until your neck, and you were choking on mud as you drowned in it.

Flashes of Dr. Kim’s face flickered through your mind. His cold face, the warmth in his eyes as he wiped off your tears, the hunger in his expression as he devoured your lips, and…and his face twisted like a maniac as he dragged you against the forest tree and mockingly laughed at your struggle. He was going to finish you next, he was going to love you, he was going to break you, he was going to hold you, and he was…he was obsessed with you.

The mud filled your lungs, and you stopped coughing, stopped trying, stopped fighting. Your lips twisted in a content smile as you closed your eyes and went limp.

A/N: Leave a comment/review if you enjoyed the fic (or tell me if I made a mistake anywhere. Always a bit nerve-wracking copy and pasting from the word document I use to write). Sending my love to all of you for your support, as always!

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elminx · 3 years

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Energy Update: September 2021

Happy September!

Numerologically, September is a 5 universal month [9 (September) + 5 (2021) = 14 = 1+4 = 5] in a 5 universal year. In numerology, the number 5 represents the pivotal moment in the middle of it all. It holds the vastness of all futures – both good and ill. 5 represents freedom and adventure. A 5 month is, in general, a time to tap in and go with the flow – it’s not a time to make your lists and check them twice; instead, it’s a time to think big and say “yes”. We’ve been sitting in 5 energy all year so this may feel like a bit of a homecoming for some or very nerve-wracking for others. This will have a lot to do with your own personality and comfortability with 5 energy.

Astrologically, the month of September is a mismatch for our 5 universal energy. We spend most of the month in Virgo season and may have to spend quite a bit of time putting in the work to catch up on things that we fell behind on during summer vacation. Whether it’s back to school or back to work, Virgo season always has a feeling of settling into your routines again or perhaps finding a new and more healthful routine.

The Setup

The Sun is in Virgo for most of the month, Mercury spends the entirety of the month in Libra, Venus finishes her stint in Libra and moves ahead into Scorpio, and Mars enters Libra at the midway point in the month. As our planets transit through Virgo, they are squaring off with the lunar nodes, trining retrograde Uranus in Taurus and Pluto in Capricorn, and opposing retrograde Neptune in Pisces. As they transit Libra, they are reactivating our Saturn-Uranus square through a trine to Saturn, trine to retrograde Jupiter, and opposing retrograde Chiron in Aries. Venus whose the head of our pack will be squaring off with Saturn and opposing Uranus once she enters Scorpio.

We are still under the effect of our Saturn in Aquarius square to Uranus in Taurus – this is our Unstoppable Force meets immovable object energy that is in effect throughout the rest of the year.

Additionally, we are deep into retrograde season with all of our outer and transpersonal planets in retrograde. Mercury will join these planets later this month for its third retrograde of the year in the sign of Libra.

For a sneak peek of October: Mercury, Jupiter, Saturn, and Pluto all station direct from 10/6-10/18 – this is the Green Light you’ve been waiting for. Now we just need to get there.

The Nitty Gritty

September is filled with contradictory vibes and may feel like a roller coaster. One day you may feel invincible and full of the highest highs but it is worth keeping in mind all month that what goes up must come down. We are all subject to gravity – plan accordingly. In particular, the first and third weeks of the month look fairly rocky while the third and fourth weeks have promise and moments of sweetness. This is a month to tidy up – to work smarter rather than harder. To pair down your responsibilities and make sure you are maintaining healthy boundaries around work, play, and excess.

The 5 energy may give the impression that it’s go time but it’s really not. Not yet. We will have six planets and Chiron retrograde by the end of the month which is always an indication that our energy is best expressed in an inward fashion.

Two of our personal planets (Venus and Mars) change signs this month which will personalize the energy with some emphasis on the relationships in our lives. While Mars is in Libra, we may be called to balance out the relationship energy we share with our others in some way – early on Mars will make an opposition to our wounded healer Chiron in Aries – there is pain to go through to get to the other side. Venus in Scorpio can be harsh and unyielding but also deep and seductive. These two energies do not sit well together, Venus may try to control (especially with emotions – using toxic tactics like the silent treatment or double binds) while Mars just wants everybody to find peace and get along. The more space you can give your others, the better off you will be.

Relationships may be especially tense around the new moon in Virgo on 9/5-9/6 as Venus in Libra squares of with retrograde Pluto in Capricorn while Mars in Virgo makes a trine. This year is all about transformations – first, we need to transform internally, but then this transformation needs to ripple outward and into our realities. There may be some break-ups and breakdowns during this time – it is likely that some long-term partners (Capricorn rules marriage, let’s not forget) are starting to realize that their connection has run its course.

In a year when it feels like we need to hold onto everything (influenced by our long-term Saturn-Uranus square in the fixed signs), this may feel catastrophic. Uranus in Taurus has a big lesson for us now: nothing lasts forever and retrograde Pluto in Capricorn is reinforcing this lesson. Now is the time to release what you have outgrown. It will likely feel very uncomfortable this month to continue to wear your mostly shed skin. As you navigate this energy, make the choices that are best suited for who you would most like to be, and you alone.

Herein lies the secret to navigating this month and really the energy of all of 2021: give up the illusion that you can control or “help” other people, and instead work controlling and “helping” yourself. As Anne Lamott says “Help is just the sunny side of control.” We are being pushed by our Saturn-Uranus square towards an ever-deepening understanding of this lesson and, since Virgo is a sign concerned with service and helping others, this will be especially accentuated as our sun transits the sign of the virgin. The lesson may come due on 9/14 as our Sun in Virgo opposed retrograde Neptune in Pisces – this is a day to give up the illusion (Neptune in Pisces) that we can control (Sun in Virgo) our Others.

Especially right now, our Others may be on an internal journey that is impossible for us to reach or understand. We’ve all had to make hard decisions and recalculations since the beginning of 2020 – beware of following your Others to a place that feels uncomfortable to be AND most especially of demanding your Others follow you to a place that feels uncomfortable for them. Be especially aware of projection and the illusionary stories that you tell yourself – especially as we approach our full moon in Pisces on 9/20 that is conjunct Neptune retrograde. As we enter our month to finally get shit done in October, we want to do so with our eyes wide open. See things as they really are, not as you would like them to be.

The entirety of September and October will be overshadowed by our Mercury retrograde in Libra cycle. Mercury enters its shadow on 9/6, officially retrogrades 9/27, stations direct again on 10/28, and doesn’t exit its post-shadow until November. The standard Mercury retrograde things apply: get your car fixed before the retrograde (change your oil, too!), double-check your work, save often, and watch out for miscommunication and upsets involving technology and travel. Because Mercury Chthonia is transversing backward through the Venus-ruled sign of Libra, this is another indication that this time will be spent re-thinking, re-imagining, re-editing things that have to do within our most personal relationships.

Mercury Chthonia’s path spans from 10° to 25° of Libra which means that it will trine retrograde Jupiter, just barely miss an exact trine with retrograde Saturn, square retrograde Pluto, and opposed retrograde Chiron not once but thrice through its retrograde journey. This will likely be the densest retrograde cycle of the year but potentially the most rewarding. If the message seems murky and unclear, write out your experiences for review after Mercury stations direct – you may find that there were hints of your lesson that you were too “in it” to see.

The lower energy of Libra is prone to emotional entanglements and codependency so it’s likely we will be revisiting these themes in our own lives during this time. Watch out for where you are not allowing your Others to differentiate or be themselves. Watch out for where you are stifling yourself to please your Others as well. Chiron in Aries is always a lesson in putting on your own mask first BEFORE you step up help an/Other put their mask on. Again, see above about maintaining strong boundaries this month – do less but make what you do count for more.

Balance truly is the way through this month but it may be hard to find. Practice your very best self-care and make sure that when you say “yes” to things, you really mean it. This is a month that could easier run away from you if you’re checking out on yourself or trying to do all of the things with no hand on the brake petal. Breath and put one foot in front of the other – slow and steady will get you to the finish line. Once our planets station direct in October, we will be able to move faster.

Below, I’ve broken down the important daily aspects of the month. Please keep in mind that the days listed are just the days that these aspects go exact in EST – strong aspects can be felt anywhere from 2-7 days (or more!) in advance of their completion and for a number of days afterward. I have bolded the most important aspects.

The Aspects

9/2 – Mars in Virgo opposed Neptune retrograde in Pisces, Moon in Cancer square Venus in Libra – this could spell relationship troubles. Mars is off in daydream land while Venus is feeling triggered. Lie low and try not to put undue pressure on your Others during these transits.

9/3 – Mercury in Libra trine N. Node in Gemini – watch out for Ah-Ha moments and signs that show you a way forward on this day.

9/4 – Moon in Leo squares retrograde Uranus in Taurus – here we see one of our four monthly days where the moon reactivates our Saturn-Uranus square. Lie low. Stay aware. Caution.

9/5 – Mercury in Libra trine retrograde Saturn in Aquarius – the energy is volatile – expect breakdowns and breakthroughs especially involving communication about long term things

9/6 – New moon at 14° Virgo, Mercury enters their shadow, Venus in Libra trine Jupiter retrograde in Aquarius, Venus in Libra square Pluto retrograde in Capricorn, Mars in Virgo trine Pluto retrograde in Capricorn – Pluto’s influence on this new moon (through both Venus and Mars) is unmistakeable – something has got to transform. With both and Venus and Mars involved, it may be a change within your relationships. Remember to reach for balance (Venus in Libra) and compromise if it is available.

9/7 – Sun in Virgo trine retrograde Uranus in Taurus – expect (and embrace) the unexpected during this time. What you hold onto too tightly may break. Stay away from the illusion of control during this time.

9/8 – Moon conjunct Mercury in Libra, Moon in Libra trine retrograde Saturn in Aquarius, Moon and Mercury opposed retrograde Chiron in Aries – this is an air grand trine which means that we are supporting in learning something during this transit. This re-activates our Saturn-Uranus square and Chiron – the lesson is likely to be heavy. Avoid using your emotions as a copout to understanding.

9/10 – Venus enters Scorpio, Moon in Scorpio square retrograde Saturn in Aquarius – this is our first hint as to what it is going to feel like to revisit our Saturn-Uranus square during Scorpio season. Take note.

9/13 – Moon in Sagittarius square retrograde Neptune in Pisces – something may be revealed today and it may feel like a major setback. Pivot your attention and focus on things that you CAN change.

9/14 – Sun in Virgo opposed retrograde Neptune in Pisces, Mars enters Libra – a repeat on 9/13 – you may not have all of the information. All that glitters is not gold. Watch out for “helper” behavior that isn’t helpful and victim/savior complexes.

9/16 – Moon conjunct retrograde Saturn in Aquarius – this is another of our four lunar activation points to our Saturn-Uranus square. Make sure the weight of the responsibility you are carrying is actually yours.

9/17 – Sun in Virgo trine retrograde Pluto in Capricorn, Venus in Scorpio square Saturn retrograde in Aquarius – in a month that begs for transformation, this is one of our powerhouse days – level up. Change may be uncomfortable but it will be even more uncomfortable to stay in your too-tight skin. Watch out for the control through emotional manipulation because this again activates our Saturn-Uranus square and Uranus is not having any of that shit.

9/20 – Full moon at 28° Pisces, Moon conjunct retrograde Neptune, Mercury in Libra trine Jupiter retrograde in Aquarius, Mars in Libra trine N. Node in Gemini – where are you going? do you have a path forward? Things may seem foggy and immutable at this time. Watch out for your boundaries and projection. The Mercury-Jupiter trine repeats during Mercury retrograde on 10/3.

9/22 – The Sun enters Libra, Mercury in Libra square retrograde Pluto in Capricorn, Venus in Scorpio opposed retrograde Uranus in Taurus – Happy Autumnal Equinox! The seasons are shifting but there’s a metric fuckton of tension in the air. Tamper down the emotional volatility – not everything needs to be a struggle. Tap into the Libra ideal of peace and balance for all. The Mercury-Pluto square repeats during Mercury retrograde on 10/01.

9/24 – Moon conjunct retrograde Uranus in Taurus, Moon in Taurus opposed Venus in

Scorpio – there’s a lesson here in letting go of control. This reactivates our Saturn-Uranus square…again. Step away from the Venus in Scorpio impulse for revenge.

9/25 – Mars in Libra trine retrograde Saturn in Aquarius – this is a good day to put in the work.

9/26 – Moon in Gemini trine Sun and Mars in Libra and retrograde Saturn in Aquarius. – another air grand trine. Show up for your own life – what you focus on grows.

9/27 – Mercury retrograde at 25° Libra – go slow. check your work. save often. Mercury retrograde 3-4x every year since this is normal Astrological Weather but still important to pay attention to. In the sign of Libra, Mercury will likely help you to rebalance something about your relationships.

9/29 – Sun in Libra trine Saturn retrograde in Aquarius, Venus in Scorpio trine retrograde Neptune in Pisces – you may want to work but it’s likely that your head will be in the clouds. Watch out for emotional dysregulation. The Sun activates our Saturn-Uranus square so caution would be advised.

9/30 – Moon in Cancer square Mercury retrograde in Libra, Moon in Cancer opposed retrograde Pluto in Capricorn, Venus in Scorpio square retrograde Jupiter in Aquarius – go slow, emotions are high. Misunderstandings will have a lasting impact during this time.

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#witchblr #words #mine #astrology #transits #energy update #September 2021 #Virgo season #Libra season #Saturn square Uranus #Mercury retrograde #Mercury RX #Mercury retrograde in Pluto

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thadelightfulone · 4 years

Text

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 2

November 15-19th, Part 2

Erik Stevens’ office phone rang incessantly, even after he told his assistant to hold all calls. When it finally quieted down, he stood up to stretch the stiff muscles of his neck, shoulders and arms. He moved in front of the floor to ceiling window that makes up the back wall of his office. Taking a few deep breaths, he rubbed his temples when the cell phone in his jacket pocket started to ring.

“T. Can I breathe? We have been working on this project all morning.” Silence greeted him on the other end. “Hello?”

“My bad. I figured you would be at lunch right about now. It’s after 3 over here.” The voice spoke.

Erik looked at the contact on his phone and started laughing, “Damn man, I’m sorry. My cousins and I have been working on this project and -- let’s just say I am ready for a vacation.”

“It’s ok. I get it man. I have about 4 students preparing to defend their dissertations next month. I am nowhere near ready.”

“That’s right, Dr. Oubre, preparing our future doctors of science and research. So, what’s up?”

“Well, I just spoke with Dr. Giacomo and she said someone came around asking about you.”

“Really for what?”

“Yeah, I guess they came across one of your papers and decided to find you.”

Erik rolled his eyes, “So, why would they go to her and not just reach out to me directly?”

“Look, I don’t know. I am just letting you know what was relayed to me, but I wanted to reach out to you before I gave out your information.”

“Bruh, give them my email and get off my phone.” Erik laughed at how silly Marquis was being.

“Aye, you can never be too sure. I’m just looking out for you.” Marquis whispered into the phone.

Erik walked over to his desk and leaned against the edge, “Quis, man what is really going on?”

“I don’t want to send you another stalker.” Marquis sighed before laughing.

“HA, man. No one could have seen that shit coming.” Erik began to laugh as well. “I definitely lucked out when she graduated before us. Who knows how bad that could have gotten?”

“True, true.” Marquis cleared his throat, “By the way, Serena asked about you. She wants to know when you are bringing yo black ass back to Louisiana? You know to see us, your friends and extended family?”

“What else? I know she didn’t stop there.” Erik retorted.

“Oh, the usual. Has he found anyone yet? When is he gonna settle down? Yada, yada, yada.” Marquis shot back.

“Of course, she did.” Erik sighed out. “I definitely want to take some time off, so I can come and see you both, including my nieces and nephew. I just don’t know when that will be.”

“Alright man, I understand. Look, I just wanted to give you a heads up about the contact. But I gotta run to class now.” Marquis rushed out.

“Yeah, I’ll hit you up later this week.” Erik said before hanging up.

Setting his phone down on his desk, he closed his eyes. Arms crossed over his chest, he relaxed into the moment. Alternating between short and long breathes, he felt himself calming down from the morning and the call from his best friend and brother.

They met in undergrad and were as thick as thieves instantly. You never saw one without the other anywhere on campus. And then, while they were in grad school Marquis met Serena, who would later become his wife.

Laughing to himself, Erik recalled being jealous of what they had and continued to build together. It reminded him of his parents’ relationship and the love they had for one another. He rolled his eyes as his mind started to wander. Serena wasn’t the only one asking those kinds of questions lately.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, he decided to focus on the reason for Marquis’ call. Someone from Southern University was looking for him, that’s very interesting. He hadn’t thought of his alma mater much since returning home to Oakland, about 10 years ago. Outside of Marquis and his family, who he kept in touch with; he never needed to think about it. He had written plenty of papers due to his current research and his studies while he was working on his doctorate, so it does make sense. Well, whoever it is will be reaching out to him soon enough.

---

It’s been three days since DeeDee learned that her mystery man was connected to a current faculty member on campus. She walked to his office and knocked on the open door.

“Hey Dr. O.” DeeDee said to get his attention.

“Come in, DeeDee.”

DeeDee walked into Dr. Marquis Oubre’s office and took a seat in front of his desk. She pulled out her notebook and set it down on her lap.

“So, how are things going?” Dr. Oubre asked as he walked over to the chair next to her.

“They are going, but it could be better.” DeeDee answered as she fiddled with her fingers.

Marquis sat down and crossed his leg at the knee. “What’s bothering you, DeeDee?”

“I’m nervous about how all the interviews went. I mean they were all in September and October, and I have not heard anything.”

“What did I tell you when you left for the first one in San Diego?”

DeeDee sighed and rolled her eyes, “I will know if they are a great fit for me and not the other way around.”

“That’s right. Besides, you visited about 6 schools over a 2 month period. Those are on-campus interviews and that number is unheard of DeeDee.” Dr. Oubre looked at her, “I didn’t even get that many.”

“Really?” DeeDee looked at him in disbelief.

Dr. Oubre discussed his entire experience of applying for a tenure-track position. DeeDee listened as much as she could manage, but in the back of her mind, all she could think about is the fact that her doctoral mentor knew her mystery man. She wanted to blurt it out when she first walked in, but it didn’t seem like the right thing to do. But now, she is reminded that the man can talk and couldn’t wait any longer.

“Dr. O?” DeeDee interrupted his current train of thought.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you about a former student?” She picked up the notebook, pulling out a printed out black and white newspaper clipping. DeeDee handed it to him.

He took it from her, looked at the image and laughed. “It’s you?”

DeeDee looked at him in confusion.

“You know people talk around here and I am friends with a lot of folks in Computer Science. Dr. Giacomo told me that someone was looking for Erik. I guess I just wasn’t thinking it would be you.” He continued to laugh.

“Oh. Of course, she would.” DeeDee huffed out as she scooted further back into the chair.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh.” He reached for her notebook, “May I?”

DeeDee handed him the notebook. Dr. Oubre pulled the ink pen from his dress shirt and wrote on the first blank page he found. He handed it back to her.

“That’s his email. He said that he is fine with you asking him anything.”

“Wait. What? He is expecting to hear from me?” DeeDee fumbled with the notebook when Dr. Oubre handed it over.

“Yes, he was surprised that you didn’t just search for him using the information on the article.”

DeeDee silently chastised herself, remembering what she told the other professor the other day. “About that, I didn’t even think of it. I saw Southern University and that was all she wrote.” She nervously laughs.

“No problem. I’m sure he’ll be able to answer whatever questions you have.” Dr. Oubre stood up. “So, how’s your unnecessary prepwork going?”

“It’s not unnecessary. I just want to be prepared, Dr. O.”

“DeeDee, you have been studying this stuff for the last 4 years. You know it and your 150 page dissertation shows that.” He moved around behind his desk, “They are only going to ask you about what is in there and what work you want to do with the information from this study.”

“I understand that, but --”

“Look, you have nothing to worry about. It is more a presentation then an actual defense. And I wouldn’t stress about the lack of response from those other universities about your interviews because I know you have applied to others. You got this.”

DeeDee took a deep breath before responding, “You are right, Dr. O. I have applied to about 5 other places, but those were all in my top 2 tiers.”

“And about your upcoming defense?”

“Right again. I know it like the back of my hand. So, I will try not to stress about it anymore.” DeeDee stood up and grabbed her things.

“Glad to hear it. Oh, by the way, you do know Dr. Bell is retiring at the end of the year?”

“Yeah, they told all of us last week. Sounds like the annual department Christmas party will be her retirement party.”

Dr. Oubre handed her a small flyer, “That’s right. Here’s your invitation. Hope to see you there.”

DeeDee looked down at it, “I’m there with bells on.” She laughed at her little joke.

“Nope, you gotta go.” He pointed at the door, while trying not to laugh. “I don’t think we need to meet next week, unless something comes up and you want to talk.”

“I agree.” DeeDee stopped at the door and held up the notebook, “And thanks again for this, Dr. O.”

“You’re welcome, DeeDee.” He sat down and watched as DeeDee left his office.

---

Sitting at her home office desk, DeeDee stared at the blank message box on her computer screen. The only thing typed out was Erik’s email address. She picked up her glass of water and took a sip.

She spent the last hour looking up information on him. Found out that he’s back in Oakland and not even active in the science field anymore. He was the Director for one of the Wakanda Outreach Centers. It was fascinating what she read and found out about the work he was currently doing.

And just like that, she was afraid to move forward. It should be simple. Send him an email about finding the little note in an old textbook. The end. He could do whatever he wanted with the information. But DeeDee’s mind was playing out possible scenarios like stuff she had seen in her favorite sappy romantic movies. And while the thought excited her, it also freaked her out at the same time.

Things like that did not happen to women like her. Sure, she was kind of pretty and low maintenance, but most guys did not find her interesting enough to have a relationship with. And because of that she just didn’t try to pursue them, which is much different than what her friends believed about her. There was no message in a bottle type romance or love for her. So, why even bother?

She closed the email and decided to let the matter go. At least, she found out who wrote the note. Curiosity piqued and answered. Now, time to focus on her future and career.

Taglist: @teakturn @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @woahitslucyylu @ladymac82 @bugngiz @eyeknowmywrites @ajspencer1892 @blackpinup22 @sarcastic-sunshines

Let me know if you want to be added to the list.

#25 days of christmas challenge #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #bp christmas #all i want #thadelightfulone

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

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August Contest Submission #18: The Concrete Rose

Words: ca. 5,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: No CW: Angst, brief Hansanna

October 12, 2019

From the second Elsa saw her roommate, she knew she would become her muse.

Douglas Academy of the Arts produced hundreds of graduates every year already with an astounding, artistic reputation. Anyone that had a future in the arts ran through Douglas Academy first. But that prestige came at a price, success at all costs meant that almost everyone was cold and cutthroat; no one was a classmate, everyone was competition.

It was a mantra that all the students bought into except for two people: Elsa and her roommate Anna. From a simple handshake and a peace offering in the form of a chocolate bar (“The vending machine accidentally gave me two, how lucky is that?!”), Anna stood out from everyone else in Elsa’s eyes.

They became quick friends despite how drastically different they were. Elsa was reserved and stayed in her head a lot, Anna loved people and spoke every thought that came to her. Elsa was constantly second-guessing her decisions and had a keen eye for details, Anna was more impulsive and loved seeing the bigger picture. Elsa was a sculptor who kept her works secret until they were finished, Anna was a dancer who would always post videos of her practicing for her latest performance.

The one thing they had in common was their need to support the other.

One day well into their first semester, Anna barged into Elsa’s room with a flyer that she’d gotten in almost all her classes: an advertisement for the 3-D Art Showcase in three weeks. “You’re doing this, right?” she asks, pushing the flyer in front of Elsa’s face. “You’re entering a thingie into the thing?”

Elsa plucked the flyer out of Anna’s hands and turned back around in her chair, “Not a chance. I heard first years get eaten alive at these showcases, I’ll wait until next year.”

“Oh come on! You’d kick so much ass if you entered something. Remember that clay canary you made me?” Anna pressed her palms against Elsa’s shoulders, which almost knocked the pencil out of the unexpecting sculptor’s hands.

Elsa shook her head, “That was different. I’d have to make like… something fancy and intricate if I want to even be considered for the showcase.”

“Well, can’t you at least try? Please?” Anna slid her hands down so she could wrap her arms around Elsa’s shoulders from behind. “I can help you just like you helped me while I was rehearsing my first interpretive dance.”

It took a while for Elsa to get used to Anna’s touchiness, but she learned to accept it. This was just another thing that added to Anna’s eclectic personality, and besides Elsa was a big fan of the rosemary body wash she was using. “Anna, all I did was press play on your speaker.”

“Which helped out a lot!” Anna assured her. “You know how much energy I could have wasted doing that myself?”

“… not a lot?”

“Just think about joining, okay? Knowing you, I bet you probably have like five ideas running through your head and when you pick one, I’ll do whatever I can to help turn that idea into something concrete.”

Well if thinking about it was all that Anna was asking her to do, then Elsa could do that. Less commitment that way. And she was right, of course, there were five ideas floating around in Elsa’s mind but none of them she could latch on to and say that that was the one to work on. “Alright fine,” she said after a dramatically heavy sigh, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s my girl! Oh shit, I’m gonna be late for rehearsal!” Anna sprinted out of Elsa’s room to grab her dancing shoes. Before slamming their shared door shut, she said, “If you eat my spaghetti, I’ll kill you!”

November 5, 2019

There was something that Anna told her that day which stuck with Elsa much more than she thought it would.

Turning an idea into something concrete.

What if she sculpted something out of concrete? It was a near guarantee that a lot of the sculptors entering the showcase would be using clay, recycled metals, or wood; using concrete would probably help her stand out and better her chances of being picked. After a researching how to make this work, and some choice words of encouragement and dancing from Anna, Elsa set to work getting everything she needed for her crazy idea.

There was still, of course, one glaring problem: What was she going to sculpt?

Her answer came to her during Anna’s first performance of the semester. It was an interpretive dance that told the story of a young gladiator fighting for the freedom of his sister who was enslaved by a vindictive landowner. Her ability to tell this story without words (not even in the song she chose) wowed the audience and inspired Elsa as she waited for every beat of the story she’d seen Anna tell maybe a hundred times in their dorm.

Elsa decided to recreate one of the poses Anna did where she jumped in the air and punched her arm out like she was thrusting a spear into an unseen adversary. It was a painstaking process that tested her dexterity and her patience even more so, she shut herself in her room until it was finished. In the end, the sculpture was much smaller than she wanted it to be because she underestimated how much concrete mix she actually needed. And a piece of Anna’s skirt chipped off because it refused to stick to the wire mesh. Still, overall she was very impressed with herself.

And so it seemed was the showcase committee, because she was given one of the last remaining spots on the showcase floor.

Elsa somehow found a way to keep Anna from seeing it beforehand, so when she went with her roommate to the showcase, her reaction was genuine.

Anna gasped, “Holy shit, is this me?! She’s so pretty!”

Everyone in the building looked at them with judgmental glares, especially the judges. Elsa didn’t mind all that much, she wasn’t expecting to take a ribbon home, this was more about proving she could hang with Douglas’ best and to thank Anna for supporting her these past few months.

“I ran out of time to add details to the face, so I kept it blank,” Elsa explained. “I hope it doesn’t look too creepy.”

Anna shook her head, “No, I love it! It’s like… it fits so much with Henry’s character, the gladiator I mean. He presents himself as this nobody that could be anybody, like Henry is just a faceless idea, but he stands for justice and integrity, which can speak to anyone.”

Elsa smiled, her heart fluttering from the feeling of being understood. “I’m glad you were able to see that. I think I’ll steal that explanation when the judges come over.”

“Fine, but if you win a ribbon then you’re buying me dinner. For believing in you and for being your muse.”

“Pssh, you are not my muse.” How in the world did Anna already know that?

Anna squeezed Elsa’s shoulders and smiled, her eyes seeing right past Elsa’s thin resistance. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Michaelangelo.”

The judges came around a few minutes later to ask her some questions and write notes on their clipboards. Anna wanted to talk her roommate up so badly but settled on providing moral support right next to Elsa as she answered the questions concisely and with the professionalism that got her into Douglas Academy in the first place.

She didn’t win a ribbon, but decided to take Anna out to dinner anyway.

December 26, 2019

“I think concrete should be your thing,” Anna said before taking another long sip of her hot chocolate.

“My thing?” Elsa asked.

“Yeah, like the thing that makes you stand out from everyone else. The thing you’re known for. Da Vinci had his inventions and paintings, Degas painted ballet dancers, you could be the concrete rose.”

Elsa chuckled, “Concrete rose? That sounds more like you than it sounds like me.”

Anna gasped, “Why Ms. Elsa, you best be careful or I might just take that as a compliment.”

“Uhh you should because it was.” Elsa gently kicked her foot forward to keep the front porch swinging. They drank their hot chocolates in silence, relishing in that post-Christmas bliss. Elsa’s family was always a little more dysfunctional around the holidays, but when Anna told her she’d be spending her Christmas in the dorms she knew that couldn’t happen. Her best friend deserved a real Christmas for the first time in forever.

When their mugs were empty, Anna spoke again, “Thank you for letting me come with you. I… maybe I would have felt a little lonelier this Christmas. And I’m happy that I’m not.”

“Anna, you’re my best friend- heck, you’re like the sister I never had. I can’t leave my sister hanging, you know?” The confession is so raw and unusual for Elsa that it doesn’t feel right coming from her lips at first, but the more this moment sat the better it felt.

She looked to Anna, her red cheeks were a sign that the cold was finally getting to her. “I had a lot of foster siblings growing up… none of them liked me all that much.”

“Well that’s their loss.”

“Thank you, Elsa. Really. Everything you do means a lot to me, I hope you know that.”

Elsa smiled and tapped her shoe against Anna’s, “Everything you do means a lot to me too.”

Anna brought the empty mug back to her lips. “So, if we’re sisters, does that mean I get to steal your clothes and burst into your room to tell you stupid nonsense?”

“You mean you don’t already do that now?” The force that Anna pushed her with almost sent Elsa off the porch swing.

October 21, 2020

Elsa and Anna complemented each other’s strengths in a way neither of them ever expected. The 3-D showcases happened four times a year, and Elsa entered every one of them with the support of Anna. There were also four major dance performances throughout the year, and Anna entered every one of them with Elsa’s support.

Anna had taken second place for interpretive dancing at the last competition, but Elsa was still looking for her first major win. She felt confident, however, in her entry for the upcoming showcase.

“I mean I love it of course, but it’s ambitious,” Anna said while looking over Elsa’s sketch. “How are you gonna carve out the bird and the cage at the same time?”

“I was thinking of making the cage and bird separate, and then putting them together,” Elsa answered. “If I get the dimensions right, I can hammer some nails underneath the cage so it stays put.”

“Hmm, alright well you sound like you know what you’re doing.” Anna handed back the sketch. “And I’m gonna support you a hundred percent. No matter what.”

“I know you will,” Elsa said while putting her arm around Anna’s shoulder. “… I think this is the one.”

“I think so too,” Anna said proudly. “And when you come back with a ribbon-”

“You’re buying me dinner.”

Anna gasped and wriggled out of her best friend’s arm, “Rude!”

Elsa rolled her eyes, “Oh please, half my budget is spent feeding you. I’m sure you can afford to buy me dinner one time.”

She saw the gears turning in Anna’s mind, trying to come up with a rebuttal, but in the end she groaned and said, “Fine, I’ll take your bum ass out for dinner, sis.”

Elsa worked harder than she ever had before, inspired once again from seeing Anna’s latest performance. It was a soliloquy in dance form, about a bird who’d spent their entire life on the move and in the hands of many owners, but never once being allowed out of its cage. It paralleled Anna’s life story: the foster child from New York who was only getting her first taste of freedom now. She paid special attention to the bird’s eyes, wanting them to emulate the longing and ambition she saw in her best friend.

The process resulted in a lot of tiny cuts and a couple of sleepless nights, but it was all worth it in the end. She won second place at the showcase.

True to her word, Anna took her out for dinner that very night on the condition that Elsa wear the obnoxiously huge, red ribbon. They had to stick it on her shirt with a safety pin. “Alright, where does Madame Second Place want to go for dinner?” Anna asked, dressed in an adorable skirt and blouse combo.

“I was kinda joking, you know?” Elsa said. “You don’t actually have to buy me dinner.”

“Oh please, you can’t get cold feet now. I mean you’re already wearing the ribbon, that’s like… I don’t know, it’s like when your high school prom date puts the corsage on you. It’s official, no backing out.”

Elsa raised an eyebrow, “What so you’re my prom date now?”

Anna pursed her lips, “Well maybe not for prom, it’s too late for that. But I’ll be your date if you want me to.”

That answer leaves Elsa speechless.

“Ooh, I know where we can go!” Anna added before Elsa could finish catching up to the millions of thoughts running through her mind. “There’s this really good Mexican place downtown. I heard they sell this burrito that’s the size of your forearm, and I have long forearms so I wanna see that. Sound good?”

Elsa blinked and said absently, “Yeah, let’s go.” They walked side by side to Anna’s car, all the while Elsa pretended she wasn’t seeing her best friend in a brand new light.

May 15, 2020

It’s a scary feeling to know that you’re in love with your best friend. Even scarier when you’ve considered them your sister for almost two years now. It’s like being strapped in to the world’s best roller coaster against your will. Sometimes it’s exhilarating and you think maybe this isn’t so bad, but most of the time you’re screaming and want to get off.

Elsa’s been on the same damn ride for months now and it hasn’t gotten any easier. But she’s accepted it, which is something she never expected.

All of Anna’s errant touches, her smiles and glances, and even just the way she says “we”… Elsa has second-guessed each and every single one of her behaviors. And yes, she would probably stop overthinking if she’d just talk to Anna but she doesn’t know how. It’s hard enough trying to have a regular conversation with her now, it’s nearly impossible approaching her with a talk about their feelings.

And even so, she’s accepted the fact that she’s fallen in love with her best friend. For the past two years, they’ve been nearly inseparable, there’s no one in the world she knows better or cares about more than Anna. Falling in love with her felt almost inevitable.

But did Anna feel the same way? Well, she’d find out soon.

For the last 3-D showcase of their second year, Elsa had been working on a particularly special project. It didn’t have to do specifically with Anna’s last performance, but it was dedicated to her nonetheless.

Rising from a slab of concrete, she sculpted out a finely detailed rose, complete with a realistic crack where the stem breaks out and defined petals spiraling into the rosebud. It represented Anna’s ability to grow and flourish from a life of a constantly uncertain home life and rough nights on the streets.

At the base of the concrete slab, she wrote ‘For Anna, for everything’. When Anna notices the inscription, that’s when Elsa would tell her how she feels.

She shut herself out from the world for a particularly long time; Anna only saw her when they were walking to classes together, and even then Elsa remained tight-lipped so as to not spoil the surprise. Her patience had to be rewarded, she figured, or else this would have all been for nothing.

When the showcase finally arrived, Elsa waited anxiously for Anna to show up. She said she would be running late because she needed to meet someone, but that was fine because it gave Elsa more time to figure out what she’d say to the judges. Which in turn helped keep her from pacing around the showcase floor like a lonely, lovesick puppy.

When the judges came, she defended the lack of complex expression and vibrancy of her piece by quoting Henry David Thoreau’s opinion on simplicity. And she covered the etching with her hand because that was one question she’d rather not answer just yet. At least not to them. The judges looked impressed with her answers and one of them even mentioned that she had a knack for giving life to her sculptures. The high from that compliment should have lasted her throughout the entire day, but it was shot down almost immediately.

When the judges left, she saw Anna walking towards her. But she wasn’t alone, she was with a guy.

And they were holding hands.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I was waiting for this guy to get his fucking shoes on.” Anna patted the guy’s chest with a coy smile. He was tall, proper, and with fashionably thick sideburns. The way he wore his t-shirt and jeans looked awkward, as if he was ripped straight from a 19th century portrait and was forced to wear modern clothes to blend in.

“Hey in my defense, I didn’t know I was going to the showcase until you texted me like half an hour ago,” he said while wrapping her arm around Anna’s shoulders.

“Lies. And propaganda.” Anna turned to Elsa with a softer smile on her lips, which was just another hit to Elsa’s already bruising heart. “Again, I’m sorry I was late but I figured it was time for you two to meet. Elsa, this is Hans. We’ve been dating for a month now.”

A month?

A… a month.

Elsa’s doing her best to remain polite and cordial, but it’s hard when her entire body feels like it’s crumbling onto the floor. She extends a hand out anyway, wincing when Hans takes it with more strength than she’s expecting. “It-It’s nice to meet you, Hans. Anna’s lucky to have you around.” The words come out of her mouth like a rejected poison.

Anna talked some more, so did Hans, and maybe Elsa nodded and smiled when she needed to, but for the life of her she couldn’t tell you what the hell they talked about. When it came time for the… couple to examine Elsa’s sculpture, Anna beamed at her with that same pride that was on her face since day one and Hans said she did a good job. Elsa kept her hand over the inscription the entire time.

She won another second place ribbon. When Anna noticed the inscription, Elsa said it was a thank you for being a wonderful friend. Each word felt like pulling teeth.

September 4, 2020

They met at the campus coffee shop while Elsa was isolating herself. Ironically, Anna was going there to get a hot chocolate to surprise Elsa.

She brought Anna and Hans together.

It was a very lonely summer for Elsa. Since Hans lived in New Jersey, it wasn’t that hard for him to visit Anna whenever he wanted, which is exactly what he did. They spent almost every moment of the summer together, and while Elsa pretended to be happy with getting texts, the occasional phone call, and a surprise weekend visit from her best friend, none of it could stop the constant ache in her heart.

Move-in day for their third year was especially brutal, she unpacked absentmindedly while listening to Anna and Hans joke around and kiss when they thought she wasn’t looking. She tried all summer to let go of the feelings for Anna and to just be happy for her, but it felt like the more she tried, the more she held on.

“Alright, that’s the last box.” Anna wiped her hands on her jeans and looked at Elsa and then at Hans. “Let me just change out of this gross, sweaty shirt and we can get something to eat?”

“Of course, babe.” Hans kissed her and walked out of the girls’ dorm, Elsa finally let go of the breath she’d held since they started moving their stuff in.

“You’re coming with us, right?” Anna asked.

Elsa wasn’t expecting her to to talk to her, and she had to take a second for her mouth to catch up with her mind. “Uh no that’s okay,” she finally replied. “You two enjoy yourself, I want to unpack all of my stuff before I eat.”

Anna raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure? If you’re worried about being a third wheel, trust me it’s not gonna be like that.”

Elsa tapped her fingers on the stacked boxes in front of her. “No, I’m just not hungry yet. That’s all.”

“Well… alright, but I’ll bring you back some food and I won’t take no for an answer.” Anna peeled off her shirt and disappeared in her room to find a new one. From somewhere inside the room, she added, “We’ll hang out sometime soon okay? Just the two of us.”

October 1, 2020

'Sometime soon’ turned out to be nearly a month later. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but with the third year at Douglas being notoriously difficult, they needed to spend a little more time adjusting to the bigger workload and busier schedules. And any free time Anna did have was taken up by Hans…

Elsa continued to pretend to be okay, and she actually relished how busy their third year was going to be because it gave her something else to think about. A six-page essay on contour ate up time she was going to spend thinking about the sexual innuendo Hans was 'accidentally’ adding to him and Anna’s conversations.

The busy times couldn’t last forever, though, and Anna and Elsa finally found some time to spend together- just the two of them- one night on top of one of Douglas’ parking garages. It was a place they’d gone to many times just to get away from the staunch air of pressure and competition in every corner of every building underneath them. This was a place for them to breathe, a home away from a home away from home.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much lately,” Anna said, breaking the silence from their lack of conversation. “It’s just that this is the first relationship I’ve been in and… I don’t know, it’s exciting and new. Not that things aren’t like that with you, it’s just-”

“Anna, you don’t have to apologize. Whatever time I get to spend with you is just fine.” Elsa bites her tongue before she can say that she still wishes she had more time with Anna.

“I just don’t want you to feel like I’m neglecting you, that’s all.”

“Well, you’re not, so it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Okay…” Anna scooted closer to her, their bare elbows touching made the nerves in Elsa’s arm tingle and send shockwaves through her entire body. “Sooooo, you want to know what I’m doing for my next performance? You know, so you can start figuring out what you’re gonna do for the showcase.”

Elsa looked away, “I don't… I think I’m gonna skip the showcase this time.” She wanted to say she was going to skip the showcase this year, but that would have set off too many alarms in Anna’s head. She could deal with the one alarm she saw going off behind her best friend’s eyes.

“How come?” she asked.

“It just looks like it’s gonna be a real busy year, and I think I need to focus on getting through it. Once I can do that, then I can start thinking about sculpting again.”

“I… see.” Anna looked out across the campus. “And that’s the only reason?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Elsa wondered if there was something she said, or some visible part of her full of pain that she’d forgotten to cover up.

Anna shrugged, “No reason. Just wondering.”

Elsa didn’t have it in her to pry, so she also went back to looking at the buzzing nightlife of Douglas Academy. With luck, they wouldn’t have to address this ever again.

November 30, 2020

Luck remained on Elsa’s side for nearly two months, and then they returned from Thanksgiving Break. Anna had declined her invitation to spend Thanksgiving with her, and instead she spent it with Hans’ family. Who, as it turned out, was exceptionally rich.

Anna spent a good hour gushing over their massive house with the hot tubs (plural) and rooms as big as their whole dorm, and then talked about all the people that were there for Thanksgiving dinner and how amazing the food was. Knowing Anna’s struggles, Elsa tried to remain supportive while she gushed over Hans and his family and his really nice house. And then she said something that should have remained a thought.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet not joining me for Thanksgiving.”

Anna pounced on that out-of-character remark immediately. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gosh, what could she say that wouldn’t sound passive-aggressive? Elsa decided on, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m really glad you had a good time on break.”

For a second, that looked like it would work. And then Anna closed her eyes and sighed, “Oh god… you don’t like Hans.”

Elsa didn’t say anything, which is the worst thing she could have said.

“Elsa, we’ve been going out for months now. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I…I guess I…”

Anna sighed and waved her hand, “Never mind, I guess it doesn’t matter. Look, I like you both so I don’t want things to feel awkward or whatever. What can I do to help? I want you to like Hans so that things don’t suck between us.”

There’s nothing Anna needed to do, this was a problem that Elsa had to deal with on her own. That’s what she wanted to say to her best friend. But instead, there was another disconnect between her brain and her mouth and she said something that was bound to make things worse, “You don’t even know why I don’t like him.”

Anna nodded, “You’re right. So why don't you like him?”

Elsa wrung her hands together, “Anna, we shouldn’t talk about this.”

“What? But you’re the one that brought it up.”

“I know, but it’s just not… this won’t end well.”

“Is this one of those things where the protective older sister hates every guy her sister dates and thinks that no one’s good enough for her?”

“No,” Elsa replied. And under her breath, she muttered, “I wish.”

“Elsa, we’re the only two people in your room. I heard that.” She scooted across the bed to get closer to Elsa, their fingers nearly touching were enough for Elsa to feel like her arm was on fire. “Just… tell me what’s wrong. Please?”

Though it felt like the wrong thing to do, Elsa pulled her hand away. “I don’t know if I can,” she replied. “Can we drop it please? For now?”

“… okay.”

December 13, 2020

This was the longest time Elsa and Anna had gone without talking to each other. Sure, they were polite and fake when Hans was hanging out in their dorm, and they still said good morning and whatnot to each other, but they hadn’t made an effort to really talk to each other in two weeks.

Knowing this was her fault, Elsa set out to craft an apology to Anna. After deciding on recreating the canary she made her during their first year, this time in concrete, she went to work quickly on creating the mesh outline for it. One night, during this process, she heard a knock on her door. A knock that could only belong to one person.

She took a deep breath and then opened her door. “Hey Anna,” she said far too generically.

“Do you love me?”

Elsa tensed up so much she almost tore her doorknob off. Any answer would have been a good one, but instead she remained frozen in silence.

“Hans and I had a fight and he said…well I mean he thought that… areyou in love with me?”

Still as a statue, much like the concrete rose Anna’s holding in her hand, Elsa somehow found her voice long enough to say, “Anna, I didn't…”

Anna nodded, and in the darkness of their shared loft Elsa could finally see that her best friend had been crying recently. “I should have known. I’m sorry.” She walked away, pressing the concrete rose closer to her chest, and disappeared into her room.

January 20, 2021

Though their relationship had hit an all-time low, Elsa felt it was wrong not going to Anna’s performance. She still very much wanted to support her best friend even if they still weren’t talking all that much. But Anna smiled at her the other day and that… gave Elsa hope somehow? Either way, it was enough to get her to stop being a coward and show up to the performance.

She arrived at the auditorium just in time to see Anna walk on to the stage, but not with enough time to find a seat. So she stood by the entrance awkwardly as the music began playing through the speakers. What conspired for the next five minutes was the most poignant expression of heartbreak and longing that Elsa had ever seen in dance form.

It started off as a simple ballroom dance, and though Anna had no partner you wouldn’t realize it in the way she moved. But her mystery partner continued to pull away no matter how many times Anna chased after them. When the partner disappeared, Anna continued to dance alone and while her moves were perfect and calculated, she let her posture slump with every break in the song. By the end, she’s nearly dragging herself along the floor hoping to make it to the end of the song, all the while reaching out for someone. Something. The song ends with her laying on the floor breathing heavily and the audience erupting in applause.

And for the first time in a very long time, Elsa felt a jolt of inspiration.

February 15, 2021

Elsa sat by the base of her sculpture. The judges had come to talk to her long ago and spectators were slowly trickling out of the building, but she couldn’t leave yet. In fact, she’d wait all night long for Anna if she had to. The note she left underneath Anna’s door even said so.

This had to be the fastest yet most detailed sculpture she’d ever created and there were no doubts as to what inspired her. Time continued to tick away, and Elsa continued to sit.

Finally, after an eternity, she saw the familiar silhouette of her best friend walking through the door. She was wearing the same skirt and blouse that made Elsa fall in love with her in the first place.

Quietly, Anna closed the gap until they were a couple of feet apart. “I got your note,” she said softly.

Elsa nodded, “I watched your performance.”

“Oh, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“I was in the back of the auditorium. But it was beautiful, I’ve never seen anyone move like you do. I’ve never seen anyone express heartbreak like you did.” Elsa wrung her hands together, “I’m sorry if this is inappropriate, but did you and Hans…”

Anna nodded, “A couple of months ago, actually. But my performance, it… wasn’t about him.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No, it…” Anna took her first glimpse at Elsa’s sculpture and it completely threw her off. “Oh my god.”

Immortalized in concrete was Anna in a stunning ball gown, her face content while she swayed in the arms of her dance partner. Except unlike the gladiator sculpture, Anna’s partner was completely visible.

And it was Elsa.

“I know it’s a little forward, but it didn’t feel right having you dance alone,” Elsa replied. And with much less confidence, she added, “Is that okay?”

Anna looked at her, confusion settled on her face. But then that confusion chipped away slowly but surely until a beautiful smile was seen in its place. “It’s perfect,” Anna replied, “Y-you did it again.”

Elsa blushed, “Well, I do have a pretty wonderful muse.”

“Well, I think that muse owes you dinner. What do you say?” Anna reached out her hand, eyes telling her that this was what she wanted.

“She doesn’t owe me anything.” Elsa took her hand and a lovely, warm feeling enveloped her. “But I’d be glad to go with her.”

Anna squeezed her hand and said, “Then it’s a date.”

Elsa’s sculpture won first place that day.

#elsanna #submission #august 2021 contest #prompt: flowers

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alexandrablake · 4 years

Text

long story short (it was a bad time)

Prompt: 31. “I never would’ve thought that (he/she/they)’d get with someone else.” from this prompt list! Pairing: no current ones, but there are serious mentions of former!hotchniss Word Count: 4,410 (?????) Warnings: it’s angsty, and there’s some mentions of alcohol. there’s also mentions of the mr. scratch events A/n: no, we are not going to talk about how late this is. nope. (i’m so sorry. catching up now, hopefully!) wrote this, realized that it’s very akin to seattle by @hurricanejjareau, which if you haven’t read, do it!

Des Moines, Iowa- October, 2017

Shutting his phone with far more force than necessary, he stared down at the small object. He flipped it in his palm and scowled at it with dismay. It was a chance of a lifetime, and it was all he had thought about for the past three years. There wasn’t a world in which he would refuse the offer, yet, for just the slightest of moments, he hesitated. But just as quickly as it came, it left, and he made his decision.

Aaron Hotchner was returning to the BAU.

The death of a valued team member left a door open, and Hotch already had a foot in. Cruz called him and offered him a deal he knew the former agent wouldn’t refuse. All the pieces were falling into place, all the stars were aligning, all the signs were being shown. There was no way he’d be able to refute everything the world was telling him. And he definitely didn’t try very hard.

Cruz said that Mr. Scratch had been terrorising the team practically since he left. Someone that cunning was not able to let go of something they felt so interesting. He had placed Reid, an agent who had already seen far too much for his short life, in a maximum security prison, framing him and terrorising him with memories that were just out of his reach.

Hotch was told about what happened in the car, how they were ambushed, how Prentiss was abducted, and how SSA Walker was killed. He was told how traumatized the team was. But he was also told how much relief finally catching Lewis gave them. For the first time in a very long time, the team felt somewhat safe

And the spot left open by the death of Stephen Walker- Cruz knew that Hotch was itching to come back. Hotch may have only worked under him for two years, but they knew each other very well. Cruz knew how much being away from this job, this team, this life had been destroying Aaron, even if he wasn’t told so.

“Hey, buddy.” It was an old habit of his, crouching down to talk to his son and calling him ‘buddy.’ Jack had probably come to associate the pet name with bad news, because the only time his father ever called him that was when he had difficult facts to present. Jack wasn’t a little kid anymore; he was twelve, and he was far too smart to not see that his dad was undergoing some turmoil.

But the good thing with Jack was that he was also smart enough to act like nothing was wrong, to just go with the flow. He had gone through a lot of changes in his life, and would definitely be going through more in the future, but he was used to it by now and was okay to move with his dad at a moment’s notice.

“What’s up, Dad?” he asked, looking up from a math book with attentive eyes.

Hotch stood up and moved into the seat across the table from him. He spoke very slowly, “How would you feel about moving back to Virginia?”

“That’d be cool!” he enthused, nodding his head but his eyebrows were knit with confusion. “Why? Are you going back to the FBI?”

Hotch pursed his lips in thought. His fingers drummed subconsciously on the wood top. “I… think so, yeah. But-” he interrupted himself, holding his hand in the air, “only if you are okay with it. I don’t want to cause you anymore pain by moving you. Again.”

The younger Hotchner shook his now long hair clad head. “I miss Virginia! And we can visit Mom without having to fly!”

“Yeah,” came Hotch’s much quieter, less enthusiastic reply. “We can visit Mom.”

Jack turned back to his algebra with a smile on his face and a bouncing knee, his mouth moving rapidly to describe to his silent father how excited he was to go back and see his friends, and see Uncle Dave, and go back to that school, and have Dad catch the bad guys, and see Aunt Jess.

Hotch was just quiet, basking silently in his son’s excitement. He only hoped that the team, but one specific person, really, would be so excited for the return of Agent Hotchner.

Quantico, Virginia- the same day

Prentiss was silent, and it wasn’t lost on her coworkers. They had taken to routinely dropping by her door, asking her if she wanted anything, and always hearing a false cheery no. Additionally, it wasn’t lost on her that they were grouping in the bullpen, shooting furtive looks her way, talking in hushed voices, and jolting back to their files whenever she looked down at them.

The call from Cruz had just come in about a new team member.

To say that she and Hotch had a… complicated history would be a serious understatement. Years ago, Emily wanted to leave. She wanted to get out of this job and this life because she couldn’t see herself getting back into what used to be. The failure with her house really just cemented that for her.

Hotch changed that.

The “date” they had arranged had actually turned into a date. It was easy to think back with a fond smile at the memory of Hotch with a cream mustache, clueless and smiling for once in his life. She had sat in that chair at the coffee shop and thought, ‘why would I ever want to leave this?’

After that, it was easy for her buried feelings to surface in an explosion of . It was easy for her to sit on his sofa and fall in love with him as he cared for his child with a gentleness she had never seen anywhere else. And she’d like to think the same went for him.

The HR battles about their relationship were difficult, but in Aaron’s words as they sat outside of the office waiting for a final verdict, “it was nothing we can’t handle. I love you, and there’s no way that Strauss- or anyone for that matter- will be able to take that away from us.”

And it was easy to believe that, too. Three years they loved each other, days spent fighting the horrors of the world, nights spent comforting each other and falling deeper into the trance that was the other.

Emily being herself, she’d known it was too good to be true. There was always a tiny voice in the back of her head whispering, “You don’t deserve him. He’s just going to leave you. This isn’t real.”

She should have listened.

Mr. Scratch changed that. In the moments after Hotch was rescued from Lewis, she’d known it was over. The blank look he shot her, the way his hands shook, the flinch away from her when she laid a caring hand on his back. Just everything.

And she was right. Hotch, a spot of darkness on the otherwise pristine and bright hospital bed, was the last she’d seen him. He checked himself out, picked Jack up from Jess’ house, packed a bag, and left.

The only note he left wasn’t to her or even Rossi. No. It was to Garcia, a warning to not go looking for him- that he knew how to disappear from even her, but that would only make it harder on Jack. It was a plea to let him leave his life behind, the very thing he had convinced Prentiss to not do three years prior.

Emily dragged herself from her thoughts by staring at the framed photos she kept on her desk. Herself, Penelope, and JJ smiling at a bar after a solved case. Reid’s arms looped around her and a carefree smile on his face for once. Rossi kissing her cheek. Layton and her, locking lips under a sprig of mistletoe held out by Alvez.

And a photo of Hotch reaching his hand out towards her, an expression of love on his face.

It wasn’t good for her healing process, she’d been told that enough times in the bureau-mandated therapy sessions, to act like Hotch and their relationship never existed. So, she kept a singular photo up, a small reminder to the happiest she’d ever been.

Quantico, Virginia- November, 2017

Feelings of nostalgia rushed through him as he stepped out of the cold into the building, just as a tidal wave of hesitation crashed into him. Was this the right thing to do?

He could have stood in the doorway forever, but a call from a security member stirred him from his stupor. Too late to go back now. He could only hope that arriving a week before they expected him would catch them off-guard, enough to let him talk before completely shutting him down.

Cruz met him in the lobby with a welcoming smile. “Hey, Hotch.” He reached out for a hug, which he stiffly received. Mateo had always been a hugger, and three years away hadn’t changed that.

They pulled apart, and Hotch looked towards the elevator apprehensively. “They’re here?” he asked, turning back to Cruz, who nodded.

“Prentiss has only told some of them. We weren’t expecting you for another week, and she figured that it’d be best to wait until Monday to tell them.”

Hotch’s heart leapt into his throat at the mention of Emily, and his voice quivered a bit as he asked, “So, who knows?”

“Rossi. Garcia, who, as you know, will find anything out. JJ and Luke, I believe. Luke Alvez,” he clarified at Hotch’s cocked eyebrow. “He came in last year from the Fugitive Task Force after Agent Morgan resigned.”

Hotch almost choked on the coffee he had lifted to his mouth to drink. “When did Morgan leave?”

Cruz ushered him towards the elevators and pushed the button while explaining simply, “You’ve missed a lot, Aaron.”

It was salt in an already burning wound

“There’s also a new doctor in town, a Dr. Tara Lewis. She joined when Agent Callahan left. I think you’ll like her.” Cruz paused as they entered, thinking about the team. “Oh! And Matt Simmons.”

“From IRT?”

“Mhm. They disbanded, and he’s with us now. I think that’s it.”

Aaron was quiet, the news of how the team had changed settling on him. He fidgeted his feet and turned towards Cruz. “You aren’t a profiler, but give me your best thoughts. How does it look for my reception?”

The section chief was silent, turning away from him and towards the closed doors. He stared at the rising numbers and said, “Not good.”

A sharp “ding” sounded as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Hotch was very proud to say he only hesitated slightly in stepping out the silver doors and towards the glass walls of the bullpen.

He stopped at the door, where Cruz waved him goodbye, to stare at the team at their desks. JJ was perched on Reid’s desk, and a man he didn’t recognize was spinning in his chair while Spencer watched with a thinly veiled smile. A pretty black woman was pouring over a file splayed on the desk of Matt Simmons.

“Hotch?” a chirpy voice from behind him asked.

At the sound of his name, Aaron spun on his heel, suit jacket flying, and met the watering eyes of Penelope Garcia. She looked the same, but her smile lines were etched a little deeper. Her hand moved to cover them as she took in Hotch standing in front of her, shocked.

“I-I didn’t think you were going to be here for another week! You should have warned me!” she rushed towards him with outstretched arms, dropping the papers she had been carrying. “I wanted to make you a cake! And get Jack a present!”

She pulled away, placing her hands on both sides of his face and scanned his eyes. Bewildered, he looked back at her. A man slid past them into the office, balancing three cups of coffee in his hands.

“Just making sure you are real,” she said and stepped back onto the array of papers scattered across the glossy floor.

“Hi, Garcia,” he laughed, breathily, finally able to get a word in from her rambling.

“Hi!”

The time didn’t seem to diminish their relationship, but intuition told him that he wouldn’t be this well received by everyone else. You don’t just drop off the face of the planet and expect everything to be okay when you come back. It didn’t work for Prentiss, and Prentiss had a reason. What reason was he going to give?

“Come on, come on!” Penelope urged, pushing on his back, forgetting the papers she dropped. “The team is going to be so surprised! They don’t even know you’re the new team member!”

Weaving their fingers together, she tugged him through the glass doors, waving her other arm to get the attention of the others. Emily and Rossi had come down from their offices at this point, Prentiss taking a coffee from the man and planting a kiss on his cheek. Rossi made a show of doing the same, but still accepted his drink with a grateful smile.

Hotch would have frozen in his place, but the enigma that was Penelope continued to pull him towards the others. All the returning profiler could do was stare at the pair and their clasped hands.

Eight pairs of eyes turned to them as Garcia called, “Guys! Look who it is!”

Hotch didn’t have a lot of expectations for his reception, but a complete stillness somehow fell short of all of them. Penelope was similarly disappointed by the reaction and dragged him closer to the desks.

“Oh, come on,” she sighed as they made it to stand in front of them. She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed them with the air of a mother telling her children to hug an aunt they didn’t like. “It’s Hotch, people!”

With a wide grin and a teasing look to Garcia, the man Hotch didn’t recognize came over to them first, offering a hand out. Hotch tried to focus on him and not the open-mouthed faces of his former friends. Better to ignore it than confront it.

“Luke Alvez,” the man introduced brightly.

Hotch nodded in understanding. “You came from the Marshals?” At the nod he received, he forced a smile. “How’d we pin you down to the BAU?”

Luke gave a good-natured shrug. “Don’t ask me,” he laughed.

A slender hand was presented to him next. “Tara Lewis.”

“Doctor,” Hotch nodded and chuckled slightly at the shocked look she gave him. “Cruz told me.”

Matt was next to greet him, waving from his spot at his desk. “Hey, Aaron.”

“Matt. How are the kids?”

“More of a handful everyday,” Simmons smiled lightly. “How is yours?”

Hotch shrugged. “He’s old.” “Right? Where did the years go?”

As the conversation fizzled out, a feeling of stiffness floated into the room. Hotch could have cut the tension with a knife, and he was forced to look at the faces of the people he had been purposely looking away from.

Reid was far less clean cut than he had been when Aaron left. His face was no longer clean shaven, and he had grown his hair out. Somehow, his eyes expressed even more pain and exhaustion than three years prior. All those years ago, Hotch would have been able to read his emotions to a tee but with the new appearance and experiences, Reid’s thoughts were completely lost on Hotch.

JJ and Rossi were sporting similar smiles. JJ’s was melancholic, reflecting the history they used to have, and Rossi’s was understanding, somehow expressing that he understood Hotch’s need to leave. But JJ’s arms were crossed and her expression was guarded- she didn’t trust him anymore.

None of them did.

Prentiss’ face was wiped of emotion. Her grip on the man next to her had tightened, knuckles whitened. A stark contrast to Garcia, Emily’s frown lines had been etched deeper into her face and smile lines faded. Her eyes held none of the love that Hotch used to mirror, none of the joy that used to spark happiness in himself.

The man she was clutching onto didn’t seem to notice the tension that had filled the air, and offered a cheery smile to Hotch as he held out his hand. “Layton Gregory, Counter-intelligence.”

“Hello.” It was a stiff greeting but it was all that Hotch could spit out as he stared at his and Emily’s intertwined hands.

Gregory didn’t seem to care. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things?”

“Nothing too bad,” the other man shrugged, and looked towards Emily with a frown. He didn’t seem to know that there was history, which Hotch took a mental note of. “Bye, babe. I’ve got to go, I just figured you’d want your afternoon coffee. Glad I could meet you,” he nodded to Aaron.

Pressing his lips onto Emily’s forehead, Layton waved to the team and Hotch, who, bar the returning member, waved back.

Rossi raised his cup at the agent’s retreating back. “I owe you the next one!”

Layton waved it off over his shoulder, and the door shut behind him softly. The attention was directed back to Hotch. Curious eyes took in his appearance, but spiteful ones turned away and back to their work.

Alvez handed a stack of manila files to Hotch, but stepped closer to whisper, “Prentiss isn’t too happy. I don’t know if there’s history here, but I think it’d be best to just let her simmer right now.” He stepped away and at regular volume told him, “Just a bunch of consulting right now. With you here, it should take less time- hopefully, at least.”

Hotch nodded, smiling grimly at the advice, and took the folders. He turned towards his former flame, willing explanations to give her into existence. Unsurprisingly, none came.

Giving him a quick up-and-down glance, Emily turned away from him without a word. If Hotch was paying attention-- which he was-- he would have seen her turn back and swipe quickly at her cheeks before turning back around. The door that shut behind her wasn’t as quiet as her boyfriend’s.

JJ slowly drew her eyesight from Emily’s shut door back to Hotch. “It’s nice to have you back, Hotch.” Her voice didn’t exactly convey the same message, but she did reach out and rub his arm gently. “Emily’s had a tough time since you left. It wasn’t… easy for her, to say the least.”

“It wasn’t easy for me, either,” came Hotch’s weak explanation.

“Yeah, you don’t get that option!” she snapped, anger she had been harboring since he left rising to the surface. “You left, not us! If it was hard,” she did air quotes with her fingers, “you shouldn’t have done it! Why did you leave?”

He couldn’t answer her.

“Yeah.” JJ turned away and back to the paper she had crushed. She sounded vindictive, for what, Hotch was unaware. He assumed she was probably angry for the pain he had caused her and Emily and the team as a whole.

“Hey, Reid,” Hotch greeted softly as he crossed to the other side of the room, standing next to Rossi, who placed a kind hand across his shoulders.

The young man didn’t verbally acknowledge him, rather he just nodded. His eyes never shifted from the report in front of him. That was the best Hotch was going to get and he knew it.

Rossi moved him towards the stairs, mentioning something about a drink to catch up. His words were barely heard over the rush of blood in Hotch’s head. He could barely believe that these were the same people he had worked with for so many years. They just seemed like… shells of their former selves- placeholders put here to replace them.

As they passed the windows to the office of the Unit Chief, Hotch couldn’t help but glance in on his former safe haven. Emily was stooped over her desk, rapping a framed photo with one of her knuckles, words he couldn’t hear spilling from her mouth.

He’d forgotten how beautiful she was. Of course, he took pictures and vivid memories of her filled his head at all times, but nothing compared to her in person. Raven hair fell into her face and she pushed it behind her ear with a delicate finger, only for it to fall back. Hotch remembered countless times where he had done the same thing for her, brushing a gentle hand against her face to push her hair back.

But that was gone now, and there was no way that he would be given that opportunity again.

Rossi set a bottle of sloshing liquid on his desk between them and slid a glass to him. “Drink. You’ll need it.”

“It’s,” he glanced at his watch, “only three.”

He was answered with a cocked eyebrow. “Are you really trying to tell me that you don’t want some?”

His glass was filled, but it remained untouched on the desk.

“How are you?” Rossi asked, leaning back into his chair.

Hotch straightened his back. “I’m okay. I didn’t think I’d ever actually see this place again.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you.”

“Touché.”

The room hadn’t changed much in the years since Hotch had seen it. It still reeked of Rossi, but it was just a little more hectic than it used to be. Papers were crammed into the bookshelves, no clear organization. The tv and game console set were new, something Hotch recognized from an ad Jack had shown him in an attempt for a birthday present.

Rossi hesitated before asking his question, the bond of complete transparency diminished in the years. “Do you… can you talk about it?”

There wasn’t an immediate response. The drink was swirled in the glass, but Hotch still didn’t take a drink.

“I had to leave. Uh, after Scratch got me, he put me under those drugs. I guess he was trying to see what I would do, I don’t know. Everything I’ve ever loved was ripped away from me in these… visions, I guess they could be called. You guys, Jack, Emily.” He pursed his lips. “I had to leave. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Rossi rested his chin on his outstretched index fingers. “Emily.”

“Emily.”

They sat in companionable silence, although they could barely be considered that anymore. Rossi nursed his drink, and Hotch did not, electing to stare out the window into the bullpen and watch the team work.

“What happened?” he asked.

Rossi shook his head. “What didn’t happen is the better question. They’ve gone through a lot in the past few years, and so have you. It’s just going to be like walking on eggshells for a while. You’ll never know when any of them reach their breaking point.”

Prentiss had left the recluse of her office and returned to the bullpen. She and Tara were talking over a case file Tara had splayed in her hands. Aaron couldn’t tear his eyes off of her.

“Aaron?”

“I never would have thought she’d get with someone else,” he answered softly to a question that was never asked. He still didn’t look away.

“Okay.” The sharpness of Dave’s voice shocked Hotch enough to make him turn back. “Do you really think you are the end all, be all? What, did you think everything would stay the same for three years? You left, Aaron! She moved on! We all did! We didn’t know if you were ever going to return so we had to live as such!”

It was quiet enough in the office after Rossi’s outburst that Hotch could hear his own blinking. “I know.”

“Then act like it!” JJ clearly wasn’t the only one with pent up anger, but Rossi’s was a softer anger. There was no malice behind his words. “I understand why you left, we all have that moment where every fiber of our being is telling us to leave, to pack up and change our name and move to Buenos Aires.”

Hotch squinted at the ranting man. “The Buenos Aires part might just be you, Dave.”

“Maybe so. The thing is, Hotch, that Emily could barely stand when you disappeared. She was so weak with stress that her body literally shut down for a little bit. And we couldn’t help her. She was destroyed when you left.”

There weren’t enough words to describe the pain that Hotch felt at Rossi’s story. The thought of his Emily-- no, she wasn’t his anymore, he made sure of that-- suffering that much because of something he did was unbearable.

“But Emily is a fighter. She got better, she moved on. She took over as Unit Chief, she moved into that office, and she took charge, almost like she was made for it. Do you want to know how long it took Garcia to convince her to go out to a club?”

Hotch shook his head.

“I don’t know because it still hasn’t happened. That fun Emily we all knew died when you left. She doesn’t go out to party or club like she used to. All she does is work, eat, and maybe sleep.” Rossi shot a look out the window. “I mean, for God’s sake, she’s dating someone from work, she didn’t even go out and meet a normal person!”

“What can I do?” Hotch’s voice was rough.

A shrug was his reply. “I don’t know. We’re all a little like that. She just took it the hardest because she loved you the most. If you had popped the question, she would have married you back then. Can you imagine that? Emily Prentiss, married?”

A million tiny images of what life could have been flew through Hotch’s mind of Emily in a flowing white dress walking towards him. He could imagine that, very easily.

The class clanged as Rossi set it down. “I think you just have to remember that we aren’t the same people anymore. That’s,” he pointed out the window, “not the same Emily. And I don’t think you’ll be getting that one back. I never could.”

Hotch sunk deeper into his chair and followed Rossi’s finger to below them. Prentiss was smiling, but it wasn’t at him like it used to be. And he didn’t think it would be for a very long time.

#bet you weren't expecting me #i'm like that michael it's britney bitch scene except i just never come back #yes the title is a tswift song what about it?#also please don't let this flop cause i'm actually kinda proud of this one?#eva's 25 days of christmas #advent calendar of fics (ACoF)#hotchniss fic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #david rossi #angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #eva writes occasionally

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star-maiden · 3 years

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Hi Star. I hope you are doing well and being safe. I'd like to request a free reading(star's choice please)on what my current relationship has in store for me. For context I am in a relationship with an Aquarius sun and I am a Virgo sun. We have been on an on and off relationship for 3 years now with 2021 being our hardest year. We weren't together for pretty much the entire year, though we kept in touch. We have always been in love with one another and talks, thoughts of marriage have been constant since year one. I would like to know if we are fated to be together for life and if our good years are ahead of us. Thank you so much for your time and energy.

Hello There!

Thank you so much for requesting a reading! ❤️ Unfortunately, my free readings are closed for the time being. I have a lot on my plate at the moment. Until things settle down, I’m not in a very good space to be able to devote the proper level of focus to do these kind of in-depth tarot readings for others. They will be open again in the future though! I’m just not sure when. Hopefully soon! ☺️

For anyone interested in free readings, please remember that you can always check the pinned post on my blog to see the most current status. I will update this post to say “open” when I am ready to accept new reading request.

And this is still in the works, but I may do a special one-card oracle reading event here in a week or so. I’ve been looking for any good excuse to try out the Seasons of the Witch: Samhain Oracle deck. I got it last year and haven’t used it nearly enough. What better time than October/November! I probably won’t open my general reads for this, but please keep your eye on my post feed for details if you’d be interested! I’ll probably post that announcement here in the next couple of days.

Wishing you all the best! And a Happy Samhain for those who choose to celebrate! 🕯 🍁

#star responds #tarot #free tarot readings #tarotblr

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lunaleetarot · 3 years

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Gemini 2021 Year Ahead Birthday Spread

Starting from the top clockwise, theme in the middle.

May 2021- Queen of Wands

This month you may be surrounding yourself with a friendly individual who loves animals. This person may be you- or your mother or a mother figure or your romantic partner. Sometimes it just means you need to take on the traits of the Queen herself. Good or bad this may be a person who has a significant say in your current situation. I feel for some of you this may be a mother in law. This person will be more relevant in your life this month. The Queen is ambitious, she wants to climb the career ladder or do other great things. Usually this individual finds themselves playing the role of the leader for having the ability to take charge. This person takes pride in being a good friend and ally. They will consider how their decisions affect others before making any moves, making sure everyone involved is being treated fairly. Enjoy time in nature as much as you can this month. If possible, go to the zoo or take a nature hike. Keeping fit and taking care of your health will be important to you. There may be a demanding and domineering woman standing between you and what you want. Watch out for controlling and oppressive behavior. If you find yourself micromanaging everyone around you- check yourself. You may be dealing with someone born on the Pisces-Aries cusp (March 19-24th).

2. June 2021- Ten of Swords

Disaster may be coming to your doorstep this June. This is not a welcoming card, as it usually indicates destruction. I feel this has been brewing for weeks and it’s finally coming to a head with the Queen of Wands above. All may be lost here Gemini. Drama, conflict will reach their next stage or conclusion. Your relationship may end in the most terrible or cruel way. Something may happen that will strip you of your confidence. This card and abusive relationships can go hand in hand. Business, career and fiance many make a turn for the worst. Once the dust settles you can start anew, but I feel for this month you're still going to be in the thick of it. You may be in ill health. Take care of yourself from physical and emotional pain. At the very least I feel some type of betrayal is going to occur and you won’t be able to resolve the issue. This is your card Gemini, this is going to affect you directly.

3. July 2021- Seven of Wands

As we move into sweltering July, you're going to face the challenges from last month head on. You're ready to preserve and defend yourself. It could possibly result in a fight for you. The person who betrayed you last month is going to make a hassle for you, and it may become a severe problem in your life. You do not see eye to eye with this person, but I feel this is someone who you were once very close to. This person does not respect you or your way of doing things. For some of you, this could be a co-worker out to steal the spotlight from you in the office. Although this is frustrating, you have the long term advantage here. They covet what you have, but you earned it with your merit, talent and personality. Because of this, even if you have to fight, you will remain on top. You may be dealing with a Leo here.

4. August 2021- The High Priestess

All the conflict from last month has really helped you to trust your intuition. However this may be a time where you need to brace the unknown, Gemini. Your insights will be so spot on, it will almost feel like your psychic. You may have strong suspicions. You may suspect your partner is being unfaithful to you. It will be revealed to you. Something in your life isn’t quite right, and you’ll feel it Gem. A lover or a business partner may be keeping a secret from you. You will sense the dishonesty, even if you're not completely sure what it is. The secret will be revealed to you this month.

5. September 2021- Ten of Wands

You learned a harsh truth last month, and it’s leaving you physically shattered this September. The truth was revealed to you, but it left you wounded. Now you're facing many burdens. This is a card of hard work, and there is a lot of work left to be done for you Gemini. You’re going to have to put in a lot more effort than you have been previously. Now is the time to decide if you want to buckle down and complete the challenge or throw in the towel. This card isn’t telling you what to do, it’s only telling you that things are about to get more difficult. You will have a lot on your plate this month. You're most likely juggling work, family and other responsibilities. You go to bed at night thinking about all the work that is facing you the next day. You will be very overwhelmed. You're going to need to take care of yourself, especially since stress related illness is likely to crop up at this time. This card is often drawn for new parents who are spending sleepless nights and drained from responsibility. It could also mean you're working hard trying to get a business off the ground. You keep pushing and pushing but there’s no end in sight. If you keep grinding there is a cozy environment in your future. If you stay committed you will see the fruits of your labor. Keep pushing towards the life you want. You may be dealing with a Sagittarius.

6. October 2021- Five of Swords

As we move into Autumn, you will face defeat. You will lose something through a fault of your own or for some something may be stolen from you. Regardless you will experience misfortune in your conflicts. This is a theft card so make sure you have proper insurance, make sure you're careful with what you brag about within the home. An enemy is going to outsmart you. You may experience loss of reputation, position or your entire career altogether. This could come from friends instead of co-workers for some. A lover being stolen from you is also a possibility. It won’t be fair, but it won’t matter very much. You may be dealing with an Aquarius here.

7. November 2021- Five of Cups

After your fall from grace in the spooky month of October, you're facing setbacks in November. You're dealing with a lot of disappointment and negative thoughts. This will be a period of great sadness for you. Instead of feeling thankful this month, you will find yourself in a negative place. At this time you will be confused about what your next move should be, and possibly indulging in self-pity. This card often makes an appearance during a break-up or divorce. Although this is difficult now, there is someone out there who is better suited for you, Gemini. Your life is by no means over. If you're battling depression, get help. You don’t have to battle these feelings alone. You may experience this fall out over a strained friendship or family relationship. All is not lost, a second chance is within your grasp. However, you're going to have to try. You may be dealing with a Scorpio here.

8. December 2021- Ace of Wands

As we move into the holiday season, you're ready to start over and begin creating a new life for yourself. This month you’re creating something that will have an impact. This could be a life changing event like a new child or a new job- but for most it will probably just be a new hobby. You will be excited about new opportunities that present themselves. You may be starting a new relationship that is filled with spark and fire. If you find yourself pregnant- this card can indicate it will be a male child. This could be you or someone you're close to. Be mindful not to get so caught up in the excitement that once it isn’t fun anymore you stop putting in effort. You don’t want something promising to never get past the first stages because of this. However, I will say this is the first promising month I see for you. I feel like the holiday season will be when Gemini gets their groove back.

9. January 2022- Four of Cups

Coming into the new year, you may find the spark you had last month is now fizzling out. Perhaps reality stepped in or a new lover has decided to leave you this month. If this is the case for you, it’s likely they got bored of the relationship. If it isn’t, you will be the one feeling the boredom. You feel unhappy and discontent in your current circumstances this month. The excitement from December has fizzled out. You won’t be happy until you do something to change it. You may be procrastinating at work or your boredom could be leading you to an affair. You may feel like you're suffering from some sort of mid-life crisis (or something that closely resembles one) You covet what other people have, wishing your own life was better. You may be chasing something that just isn’t meant for you. Use your jealousy of others for good and work on the areas of your life you're upset about. Work hard and strike for the things you see others have that you want. Keep in mind, the grass may not be greener on the other side. Count your blessings and be grateful for what you have. You may be dealing with a Cancer this month.

10. February 2022- Six of Swords

You find yourself feeling apathetic this month. You're just not interested in the drama that’s been going on all year. You're ready to forgive and move on. This can result in moving towards or away from conflict- that’s up to you. This card is all about movement. You may be physically moving residence or leaving your hometown. You may be close to the water when you travel on a boat or make a plane trip. You're moving towards a certain goal or outcome. Keep the faith, you're making progress even if you don’t feel like it. Something could be progressing in a way you didn’t want to expect. Once you get what you want, you see the grass isn’t greener on the other side. I feel this could be you achieving a goal you set out last month and realizing it doesn’t really suit you. Keep your options open for now.

11. March 2022- The Magician

With the energy of moving on, you're setting your sights on your own talents, possibly sales. You will have a lot of willpower this month. A nice change for you as winter becomes spring. You’re setting goals and seeing them through. Nothing will stop you, Gemini! Taking action at this time will attract the opportunities you crave. Be careful, for some of you a con man may be coming into your life (or trying to come back into it). One thing is for sure, you will be starting something new. A new business, job or hobby is in store for you.

12. April 2022- Six of Wands

The talents you displayed last month will lead you with victory and new found popularity this month. Success is finally coming to you! You will receive recognition for your hard work. Soon you will be able to sit back and bask in the glow. It’s been a hard year, you deserve it. There is a possibility that you will be looked up to as an authority. You may become a sort of celebrity in your field or interest. Your social media following will likely increase at this time. You will also be rewarded financially. A well deserved ego boost may also be in order. For some this may mean your letting your stubbornness get in the way of your happiness. You can’t admit when you're wrong or deny that others may know more than you. This arrogance may turn people off. You may be dealing with a Leo at this time.

13. Theme of the Year- Page of Cups

This will be an emotional year for you, unfortunately a year of emotional immaturity. For the next 365 days you may be feeling sensitive and a bit soft. You desire love, care and affection- but you're going about getting it in all the wrong ways. This gentleness may be coming from a good place, but you appear overly sensitive and annoy others. You will come off childish, moody and downright silly. In other words, you need to act your age, Gemini. I feel you will spend much of this year day-dreaming. Be mindful not to lose time because you have your head in the clouds. A certain stage of your life is coming to a natural end so a new stage can begin. You will notice this especially in June and September. This will be a painful experience for you, but it’s all for the best. I feel this could mean the end of a relationship so a new one can begin. Big events will occur in August and March. In October and November you will feel as though you’ve been defeated. February and April a special relationship may begin to bloom. It will start off slow but could lead to something amazing.

#gemini #happy birthday #year ahead spread #gemini season #tarot #zodiac #astrology #air signs #tarot spread #luna lee tarot

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meandmyechoes · 3 years

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been busy getting back to school, and getting ready to get back to school. that includes finishing up every project i have on hand, plus putting on a school wardrobe.

my sewing plan for august, stayed a plan. Nothing I planned to do I actually did, but I think I will finish up a few projects I started in the last three days of summer. Namely, the green cloak and a pair of sneakers (optional socks). She has 18 canon looks and I have at least 10 other outfits I want for her. And that’s discounting festive ones!

there’s, still an substantial materials for cwa but I’m not the most not-busy to organize it. the queue’s set up though i might take a short break in the first week of september.

really wanted to finish the baby doll since I finally tested out the dye last week. just i’m really excited to put her in a box and fake an official product. might have some time once school is settled to do some fake box art of an imaginary doll line ooh

and yes, i totally NEED to finish dd before school starts. i want to print out my version so bad. i really like the original cover design there isn’t even much i wanna change... but i want maybe the chinese version to have like, a ink-painting style to its art. I’d be really excited to see my appendix all listed neat lol.

i actually did have a tbb review in the works for the forum, but idk, too tired and a waste of my time to talk about a disappointment. would rather write a visions guide post. And then there’s the Japanese press con from LAST MONTH i totally missed out until youtube recommends -_-. I promise though! will squeeze time to gif Visions! (then might take a well-deserved break with new star wars for a while. will still watch boba like a lunch show but won’t stress too much about it. after that then things should quiet down a bit until... next march? don’t wanna know -_-)

I expect to have more time to write fics in the fall! i don’t know what my grad paper’s gonna be about yet but i am in the right mind to do some scientific investigation i think. i could just pretend someone’s paying me to find out what the heck is going on in Dathomir speciation. and why in the galaxy is that place so strong in the Force. lol and midi-chlorians and genetics.

oh and there was a rumor about Ahsoka shipping soon. I wouldn’t know. doesn’t sound too reliable. well i’m super excited but my room is still a mess lol. have cleared her and her brothers a shelf yet so i wouldn’t even know what to do if she arrive anytime earlier than october. but i’m so, so excited, i need to make a couple more canon outfits in preparation, such as the jumpsuit. i know i’ll be crying holding her. man what do i even wear when i go get her.

the most exciting thing about returning to school is to exploit that 3d printerrrrrrr. i want to build my lightsabers (finally after more than a decade of talk!) and more importantly, print an armour set for Ahsoka! but gess that has to wait till at least early november lolol

and this is very, very far down the future but i want my star wars dolls/figures soooo bad. yes I super want a Ventress figure, and a Rhayme, and Riyo and Barriss, and maybe Mikkians even! and of course Kilindi. I’m looking at materials... and i’d have to learn rooting and some sculpting. man might even be next summer when i got time to do those. (sigh) but uh, it’s fun to think about.

For the next four months, i need to focus on getting schoolwork done first, then i can do SO many things, at least I think it’s be easier for me to shift back to hobbies that require less, starting materials, like making gifs and writing fics. I miss making gifs. :))))

#echoesdiary

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kokiri-at-the-pack · 3 years

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1020

October 20

I do not recall how I managed to return home. Steven’s last words never stopped ringing in my ears up to the point I reached the front door of my aunt’s house.

My worst fear just came true. Steven’s memories about me were gone. He could not remember the entire days from the point I met him up to my last meeting with him. It was like...how should I say...a large part of the film in his brain was clearly cut off.

And this was all because I drew a random guy whom I wished to be friends with.

I couldn’t dare to see Mr. Francis, who was hospitalized in the same building. He would display a similar behavior, which he did not deserve to get. I was certain he would no longer have any idea about the contract he made with the company but figure out why he was suddenly lying on the hospital bed instead.

Have I been too selfish? Should I have stopped the moment I wanted someone to stay by my side? Or the moment I wanted Steven, Mr. Francis and many more to be happy?

Could there have been another way? No...That could have been more difficult to achieve.

Because reality is harsh...for people like us.

If only...if only...those drawings were kept in a safer place...none of this would have happened…

I shook my head to get rid of a flood of negative thoughts pouring into my mind. I turned the knob and opened the door, pretending that nothing serious happened to me.

However, two people I did not expect to see at my aunt’s house so soon were standing in the living room: my parents. They turned to me with cold eyes, speaking with low tones that I should sit down for a while to have a bit of a talk. I did as they said quietly, but I was not able to control my anxiety. Their low voices have meant that there was trouble in our family, and it has always been a really, really serious matter.

I asked them what was wrong.

Mother made quick steps towards me and pulled out an envelope from her bag. I received it afterwards and opened it carefully, wondering what their intentions were.

...Sheets of paper. My drawings. All wet and crumpled from the storm.

I almost dropped them as soon as I saw their contents. Wait, if they were inside Mother’s bag, that means…

“Dear, please explain to us,” Father finally opened his mouth, “what are they for?”

October 23

Mother and Father explained to me how they found my drawings briefly. They were cleaning rooms in our house which turned into a mess after the great storm. When it was time to go to the storage room, they noticed a piece of paper was stuck out from one of the boxes in the corner. That is where they found all the work I have done for the past several days.

If it was another family with a different ability, they would not have raised any suspicion towards some random doodles. However, we are a family of Visualizers, whose drawings can come to life, no matter how long our effects last. It was one thing for them to draw strangers on numerous pages. When they compared them with recent news that were continuously featured in various media platforms, they were certain that our family ability was involved in them. There were too many links to be considered as a coincidence.

That is why I had to tell them the truth. Every single bit of it from its purpose to my true feelings. When I finished my explanation, my parents did not say anything, and relaxed their faces a little, but they still had discomfort in their emotions. In fact, they did not know how to respond to the result I made. Never have they seen the Visualizing ability work in such a wide, impactful field before, nor have they ever thought it was possible.

The silence continued until dinnertime. When I finished my supper, my parents beckoned me to come to the backyard. There, I saw that they gathered all the sheets of ruined drawings as well as notebooks with my previous doodles into one area, on top of logs exactly. Before I could ask what this was all about, Father questioned me if every one of them was old enough that my ability’s effect had worn off. I answered yes.

“Good,” he simply replied.

Then with no time for me to react, Father threw a lit match to the sheets in the blink of an eye. The fire instantly grew larger and devoured all the hard work and dedication I put in throughout months.

I barely remember what I screamed towards my parents. Maybe a curse...maybe a cry…

But despite my rage, my parents were unusually calm as steel. When I was about to get exhausted after the sudden explosion, Mother held my shoulders firmly and called my name several times to calm me down.

“You could have got yourself into trouble,” she said, “if we did not do this.”

I slowly looked up to see her sad, but determined face.

“We know it’s an awful thing, and we are so sorry...but we do not want to allow any more misfortune to come to our family,” added Father.

“But it’s not too late yet. Now that the evidence is destroyed, others won’t get suspicious of us. After all, our ability is not that obvious to be identified,” Mother replied.

I was utterly dumbfounded by their actions. A great amount of anxiety in their voices...Making a difficult choice of burning their daughter’s passion into ashes… How much worse can the consequence of my action grow?

“Dear...when does your winter break start?” Father asked all of a sudden.

“D-December…” I stuttered.

“That will be it. We can look for your new school in that period.”

“What?! Y-You want me to transfer to another place?”

“Our whole family has to start anew. Now, you must be aware of how crucial your mistake is.”

Mistake...What I did to make myself proud...make my ability proud...and make my family proud...They saw it as nothing but a mistake…

I understand their feelings… but why does my heart ache so much?

“This is the only choice we have. When you go there, do not mention any detail about your ability. Be vague in a way it is not understandable,”

I listened to my parents thoroughly, with each of their words pushing me deeper into despair.

“And remember,” Mother concluded, “live quietly.”

November 1

I have never noticed that weeks have already passed after I last noted my parents’ resolution for my ability’s severe effect. If ever someone is reading this entry, I sincerely apologize for the enormous skip in timeline.

The thing is...my family has been extremely busy since that fateful day. We have been looking for a new village to live in, together with the school my sister and I should transfer to. Of course, it was no easy task. We had to read every booklet and newspaper we could grab and visit that place before making a final decision. What’s more, from time to time, we had to pack up necessary stuff in advance and throw away any item which would be bothersome for transportation.

But the most critical reason was that due to a fear of leaving evidence related to the incident in my hometown, I was hesitant to write any more entries.

Until we have decided where to go at last.

My family agreed for one last time to pretend to be a family with no extraordinary ability. We are not worth any attention. While my parents attempt to look for any business they can start to earn a living, my sister and I will go to a small school with few students and graduate there. After all, it is a piece of cake to get a good score in such a quiet and unpopular school, so it also solves the problem of applying for a college in the future. It may look like my family was able to jump over a huge obstacle.

Except that my passion towards my ability remained intact.

Even though I knew it was my fault entirely for the tragedy to take place, I could never forget the significant change of emotions of the people I helped beforehand. How long have they possibly wanted those moments of recognition to happen? Can a person be certain that they will come to them one more time? No one knows exactly when one can fulfill his dream.

That’s right. Look at a brighter side. If my drawings can be ruined easily, that would also mean a method to preserve them can also be easy. As long as there is no single drop of water on a sheet, the effect will last forever, and that would be advantageous for me to support more unlucky people in need of help.

And as soon as we finish settling down in our new home, I can try to investigate how I can safely and efficiently activate my Visualization. Maybe I can start with how I can complete my work faster. I can also examine why the term for my family ability’s effect has been different depending on members and generations. I remember no one has figured it out, and I doubt my parents would do so since they already lost trust in our family ability.

I am going to be the one to fix the mistake...even if it means I would have to do it secretly.

I hope I succeed if my chance comes some day. Then my parents would understand me. My sister would trust me again. Our whole family would afterwards have happiness restored, just like the people who can be joyful with my illustrations.

So for now, I will focus on education and achievement of my goals. If time allows me to write again, I will record what I have seen, heard or kept in mind here.

…

To note down your experience is to remember what you felt at that very moment.

- K. D. Leighton -

#oc #lightonme #diary #fiction #original story

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96thdayofrage · 4 years

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The clashes in Charlottesville catalyzed the American public’s reckoning with the budding white nationalist movement, which had accelerated after Donald Trump’s election. Afterward, the wave of public shaming of the violence in Charlottesville led at least one “Unite the Right” marcher to insist his participation in the rally was misinterpreted as racist. Others who attended quickly lost their jobs after online campaigns exposed them.

But the eventual identification of the man in the white tank top and red hat shook many: He was revealed to be a 33-year-old Puerto Rican resident of Georgia, originally from the Bronx. “I’m the only brown Klans member I ever met,” Alex Michael Ramos joked in a Facebook Live video before he turned himself into police Aug. 28. The Facebook post has since been taken down.

But Ramos wasn’t the only “Unite the Right” marcher with a Hispanic background.

Christopher Rey Monzon, a 22-year-old Cuban-American, is associated with the League of the South, which the Southern Poverty Law Center classifies as a neo-Confederate hate group. Monzon was arrested weeks after Charlottesville for charging at protesters in a separate Florida demonstration. And Nick Fuentes, a 19-year-old student who hosts an alt-right podcast called America First, said he had to leave Boston University in the aftermath of the Charlottesville protests after receiving death threats over his participation.

The presence of these Latino men at the largest white nationalist event in recent memory underscores the complicated racial position of Latinos in the United States. Latino white supremacy, it turns out, might not be a contradiction in terms.

Increasingly, Latinos are identifying racially as white. In fact, more than half did so in the 2010 U.S. Census. A March 2016 report from Pew Research Center found that 39% of Afro-Latinos also identified “as white alone or white in combination with another race.” With a current population of around 58 million, Latinos make up the second-largest ethnic group in the U.S., just behind whites.

Another Pew Research Center study from December found that 59% of U.S. adults with Latino heritage who identify as white believe others see them as white, too. Over time, the study found, descendants of Latino immigrants stop identifying with their countries of origin and consider themselves more and more American.

Fuentes — who says he’s about 25% Mexican — identifies as white, not Latino. In an interview with Mic, Fuentes also said he believes multiculturalism threatens white national identity. Monzon, meanwhile, has called for South Florida to secede from the U.S. His ties to the League of the South are generational, as his parents have also protested with the white supremacist fringe group, according to the SPLC. In a Facebook profile the SPLC has attributed to him, Monzon goes by “Ambrosio Gonzalez,” the name of a Cuban general who fought as a Confederate colonel in the Civil War.

Ramos, however, rejects any notion that he’s racist, insisting he went to Charlottesville in defense of free speech and as a show of force against left-wing groups like Black Lives Matter and Antifa.

During the nearly hourlong video Ramos posted to Facebook, he became agitated at users who challenged him for marching with the KKK and jumping a black man.

“Yeah, I stood side-by-side with racist people, but they weren’t racist to me,” Ramos said. “They did not call me a ‘spic,’ they did not call me a ‘fucking wetback,’ they didn’t say nothing as such. We stood for the same common goal.”

Alex Michael Ramos has been charged in connection with the beating of a black man during violent clashes in Charlottesville, Virginia, during the “Unite the Right” rally Aug. 12.

Uncredited/AP

Despite his stated goals, the brutal violence in the video from that day was enough for judges in Charlottesville to twice deny Ramos bond.

“The victim was defenseless,” Judge Richard Moore of the Charlottesville General District Court said at Ramos’ bail hearing in November. “Mr. Ramos rushes into something where people are pummeling Mr. Harris. He is an unreasonable risk to others.”

Ramos is facing a malicious wounding charge and could spend up to 20 years in prison if convicted, according to local station WVIR-TV. Through his attorney, Ramos declined to be interviewed.

Other alleged perpetrators include Daniel Patrick Borden of Ohio, who was identified online and arrested in connection to Harris’ attack. Like Ramos, he was also denied bond. Authorities arrested another suspect, Arkansas man Jacob Scott Goodwin, in October and extradited him to Charlottesville the following month.

Harris himself was later forced to turn himself in when Harold Ray Crews, an attorney and resident of Walkertown, North Carolina — and the state’s chairman for League of the South — claimed Harris injured him in the same scuffle. Though Harris’ felony charge for unlawful wounding was dropped in December, “there are still misdemeanor charges pending,” according to the Root.

Fuentes is, in many ways, representative of the ideas of the so-called alt-right, which the Anti-Defamation League defines as a “loose network of racists and anti-Semites.” His Twitter feed shows equal disdain for conservative commentator Ben Shapiro and the South Side of Chicago, which has seen a sharp increase in gang-related murders in recent years. Though he decried Heyer’s murder at the “Unite the Right” rally during his interview with Mic, he also equated it with antifa violence.

Fuentes did acknowledge there isn’t much reconciliation between his stance on multiculturalism — simply put, it’s bad and should be avoided — and his own cultural background: His Mexican ancestors immigrated to the U.S. at the turn of the 20th century. Intermarriage has created a “beige, rootless mass,” he said, and he rejects any notion that Latino immigrants can assimilate.

“I don’t buy the idea that if you come to a country and your kids learned the language, you’re from that country,” Fuentes said. “You have to understand that America is an exceptional nation; it’s the proposition nation. That’s why the identity question is so big here. America was obviously settled only very recently. If I moved to China and I filled out the paperwork, would that make me Chinese? Of course not. I would maybe be a part of the People’s Republic.”

“They demonize the ‘other,’ but the irony is that they were once the ‘other.’”

Fuentes’s own standard — that learning English and settling in the U.S. does not make you American — disenfranchises himself and his parents, a fact he acknowledged. From the perspective of someone who sees the U.S. as a foundationally European nation, as Fuentes does, being anything less than white is the same as being a nonentity.

“You rob children of something very fundamental when you take away a common and coherent identity,” he said. “I look at my Eastern European people from high school and they have their food and their special clothing from their home country. But when you have race mixing, you rob them. I do pause at that. This is not an experience I wish to replicate. I don’t know if I wish I could turn back the clock and change things, but ideally there wouldn’t be mixing.”

Joanna Mendelson, senior investigative researcher and director of special projects for the ADL, sees growing anti-immigrant views from the descendants of Latino immigrants as a unique conundrum.

“It’s this idea that, ‘we did it right, we did it legally,’” Mendelson said in an interview with Mic. “They’re not just addressing illegal immigration — which would be one thing — but they’re against refugees and Muslims and legal immigration. They demonize the ‘other,’ but the irony is that they were once the ‘other.’”

On Aug. 20, days after the Charlottesville protests, Juan Cadavid, a Colombian-born Californian who now goes by the name Johnny Benitez, led an “America First!” rally in Southern California he described as a vigil for victims of crimes committed by undocumented immigrants. Dozens of supporters were drowned out by nearly 2,500 counterprotesters, the Los Angeles Times reported.

In an interview with NPR in December, Benitez shared how he went from Occupy Wall Street protester and Bernie Sanders supporter to alt-right nationalist, claiming he was exiled from Occupy and called a bigot after he questioned the need for the group to support transgender people. He insisted he was not a white supremacist, but an advocate for what he called “white identity politics” — which includes embracing the 14 Words slogan used by white supremacists: “We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children.”

Benitez also told NPR he pushes for a United States that is “Italo-Spanish” white, to make room for the descendants of southern Europeans (which he considers himself to be). White nationalists such as Richard Spencer have said white Latinos could theoretically be part of a white ethno-nationalist state, but they still have mixed feelings about assimilation.

“In some instances you are rejected from the host culture, made to feel not American,” Benitez said of being an immigrant in the U.S. “And if I go back, I’m definitely not Colombian. You know, I didn’t live there, you can hear that I have an American accent, things like that, when I speak Spanish.”

Benitez’s girlfriend, Irma Hinojosa, cohosts The Right View, a YouTube talk show hosted with four other women who call themselves the “Deplorable Latinas.” The show features conservative Latinas commenting on the news from a point of view that conversation about Latinos and immigration focuses on the undocumented versus those who entered the country legally. Hinojosa also has her own YouTube channel where she livestreams protests and alt-right events. She was the only woman to speak at a June “Freedom of Speech” rally featuring Spencer and other alt-right figures.

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the-cookie-of-doom · 4 years

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Hey Cookie! It’s the anon who asked about Estranged’s process, you can call me Ursula, so you know when I’m here! I’ll also leave my name, too. x I saw your post about your dream of Mitch and Stiles and had a question, when you further the writing over the span of a year as you said, will they actually be in a relationship or is it casual between them? Does Stiles eventually stay with his brother and/or visit him throughout? It was funny to see Mitch actually being serious about hiring Stiles!

I haven’t settled on an EXACT timeline yet actually I haven’t even written anything down but what I’m thinking is something like this:

January: Stiles, after trying to deal with everything on his own since what, Early November? Since everything happened just after Halloween? goes to stay with Mitch.

The first few chapters of the story (up to Afterimage at least) would take place across the next few months/spring semester. Originally I had it that Mitch’s fights were a Friday night/weekend thing, but then while writing later chapters I thought it would be better for it to be more sporadic than that, not a set schedule. If you would like a MINOR spoiler, Mitch fights when the psychic feedback is getting too much. He needs an outlet. And as Derek said, pain makes you human; that’s a running theme in this story, but Mitch and Stiles take it to a self-destructive level. But I want Stiles to be watching him and studying his movements/behaviors over a longer period of 2-3 months to really build a pattern.

Stiles and his dad probably agreed to let Stiles finish out Junior year in New York, and then come home for summer. If Stiles does, then things are awful and he hates it, and goes back to New York, idk.

Stiles is probably back with Mitch by the late summer; he doesn’t want to touch Senior year with a 10 foot pole, and online school was working for him, so why not continue? After getting settled back in New York again things are better the second time around. This is where you start to see things like chapter 13, where Mitch and Stiles are going out and having fun together. I had one scene (which I will be posting later in my Deleted Scenes collection) where Mitch takes Stiles to Switzerland on a business trip, that was RIFE with sexual tension. It was actually going to be the first time they slept together, but obviously I would have to take that out of the extended version ;)

Although, my original “plan” for Estranged, back before I even had the details sorted (Mitch could read Stiles mind in this version, I hadn’t fully decided on Mitch’s powers and what he could/couldn’t do yet) they go to Switzerland, maybe they sleep together maybe they don’t. but there was some Naughtiness happening. But it freaks Stiles out because he thinks he’s the one taking advantage, which confuses Mitch, until Stiles explains about the Malia situation, when then makes Mitch feel bad, and they’re just a disaster. But after they get home from Switzerland, Stiles wants to go back home because he doesn’t know where they stand and everything is just all screwed up, but Mitch convinces him to stay. I think? That idea is 2 and a half years old at this point so details are hazy, but lol draft one of this fic was SO messy and all over the place, you have no idea. What I have posted now is unrecognizable compared to where it started.

Anyway.

The current chapter I’m working on would probably START in October, Early November at the latest, where Stiles goes home after the big reveal. I really want a solid 2 months or so for Stiles to be depressed at home, which is made worse because home doesn’t even feel like home anymore, so he’s really out of place and adrift. He feels cut off from everything, and it’s Not Great. Right now Stiles contacts Mitch I think after like 2-3 days, but I would really prefer 2-3 weeks of no talking. Then they reconcile, and then there’s a few more weeks of Sexual Tension and some jerking off in the shower, etc.

So to answer your question: it would essentially be the most painful slowburn ever! They’re pining so hard for each other! Except it’s for a year! It’s awful!

And yes, Stiles will end up staying with Mitch! I’ve been waffling on how I want to do it, but I know that later down the line, Stiles does stay in New York for college. He goes to Columbia and Mitch pays his tuition, which makes John incredibly uncomfortable on a parental level, but... stiles didn’t exactly ask permission. And neither did Mitch, actually, from either of them. Stiles pitched the idea of going staying for college, which Mitch was perfectly happy with. But later he found Stiles going through different schools and he was clearly Stressed, but he wouldn’t say why. But Mitch saw Stiles’ notebook full of numbers and put together that he was stressed out about tuition costs, and so just point blank said he would pay for it. But Stiles couldn't just accept that because it’s a lot of money for Mitch to throw at him and oh god what if he fails out in the first semester? What if he’s awful in college? does he even really need to go? it’s not like any universities have a major in Emissary Magic School anyway, and--

And Mitch has to shut him up and convince Stiles to just accept it; Mitch has the means, Stiles should be able to go wherever he wants without worrying about the cost. That’s what families for, right? Just let him help.

Then once college is sorted out, Stiles calls his dad and just kind of blurts okay by the way Mitch is paying for my college! And it’s not like John can say no to that, it would break Stiles’ heart.

Then FAR into the future (I mean not that far, but a few years, Stiles was like 23) - and fair warning this started out as a cracky convo between my friend and I, that turned serious - Peter moves back to New York. He, Stiles, and Mitch are fast frenemies, they have a standing coffee date to meet up and talk shit. Peter loathes Mitch because his mind reading means he’s always one step ahead of Peter’s machinations, and Stiles always thought Mitch was so Mature and Adult, but around Peter he becomes such a petty punk. The reason I’ve dropped references to Peter here and there is to start laying the ground work for that future ot3; their dynamic is COMPLICATED. (but in case some people aren’t into it, they are a separate fic unto themselves).

But yes, in both versions, they are very devoted to each other! It’s a lot of tragic longing in that first year, and then having to figure out how to navigate… everything. But once they’re together, they’re Together.

And I have no idea if Mitch would actually hire Stiles or not, because I think Stiles is going to major in ancient history/occultism/something like that, because he does become a historian. but Mitch continues taking Stiles to various business functions, and it just becomes widely assumed that Mitch is mentoring Stiles in the family business.

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scotianostra · 5 years

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On December 16th 2001 singer/songwriter Stuart Adamson took his own life.......

Stuart's parents, expats, lived in Manchester when their boy was born and moved home to Fife when he was just four, don't anyone fuckin dare tell me he wasn't Scottish! The family settled in Crossgate on the outskirts of Dunfermline.

Adamson's father was in the fishing industry and travelled the world. He encouraged Stuart to read literature, and both parents shared an interest in folk music, Fife born author Ian Rankin attended Beath High School, two years beneath Adamson, and would later become a big fan.

Stuart founded his first band, Tattoo, in 1976 after seeing The Damned in Edinburgh, a year later he formed Skids and recruited Crosshill lad Ian Jobson, The legendary John Peel plugged them on his Radio 1 show which led them to playing support to the likes of the Clash and The Stranglers and a record deal with Virgin. Stuart walked out on the group just as they were about to make it big, for a time he rejoined the band for a tour to promote their album Scared to Dance.

Hooking up with guitarist and long-time friend Bruce Watson, Adamson formed Big Country, the line-up also featured, on keyboards, Peter Wishart, later of Gaelic rockers Runrig, and now a polititian. Originally they experimented with the synthiser sounds that were all the rage then, The Human League were riding high in the charts, but Adamson wanted something more traditional and the synth sounds made way for the guitar sound that was a unique sound for the band and that became their trademark sound. Adamson said later....“Music used to be a thing where working people got together on a Saturday night and played some songs. Someone’d play the guitar or the fiddle or an accordion. No bastard’d played the synthesiser.”

They roped in Jam drummer Rick Buckler on some demos which were hawked around a number of recording labels unsuccessfully, a support slot with Alice Cooper went disastrously too, the band’s half-baked sound grating on an audience looking for glam-metal thrills. By the second night of the tour they were sacked.

Their manager Grant Scott called in Adamson and convinced him the band needed a shake up, out went Wishart, in came in came bassist Tony Butler and drummer Mark Brzezinski, who had just finished an album with Pete Townsend of The Who. Butler, a much respected bass player had also played with Townsend, Roger Daltry and The Pretenders. The final link in the chain that brought them success was when they were signed by Phonogram records, who appointed Steve Lillywhite to produce them, Lillyywhite had just finished work on U2's breakthrough album War and had previously worked with Siouxsie And The Banshees, the Psychedelic Furs and XTC.

Initially contracted to just do a single, the sessions for Fields Of Fire produced not only that classic song, but gave birth to the Big Country sound and inspired a new bout of songwriting from Adamson, the band had it all in front of them. At the heart of it all was Adamson, the punk rocker with the virtuoso talent. He used to say, ‘Don’t call me a musician. I’m a songwriter, guitarist, singer, but muso – I don’t like that tag’,” but musician he was.

The music of their album The Crossing was epic and inspirational, as big as the glens and as loud as a cavalry charge, this was rock music yes, but not the type played by the likes of Led Zeppelin or AC/DC, this had a Scottish spin. The crowd-friendly skirling guitars, big beats and uplifting calls to arms were all great, but The Crossing also tone the sound down with the, in my own humble opinion, brilliant Chance, which Lillywhite describes as a “a beautiful, depressive song,” Released in July 1983, The Crossing went on to sell over two million copies worldwide.

Their follow up album Steeltown hit number one in the UK and hit gold status in sales, another two top ten albums followed, but all the time Stuart Adamson was fighting his demons.Although sales were good the music press started to turn on them, Steeltown was collection of songs born out of the political landscape of the 80's - the Falklands war, unemployment, tales of people trapped by circumstance and crushed by forces outside their control, it wasn’t what the press wanted to hear, the dour Scotsman. In the eyes of the music press, the band were pompous and dreary and so not cool, the dour Scotsman, in the eyes of the music press, were a pompous band and dreary and so not cool.

1985 took the pressure of Stuart a little, they were signed to score the film, The Scottish classic, Restless Natives, the instrumental score freeing him from that "dour Scotsman" tag. The bands manager Grant tells of Stuart leaving the band, but not, relentlessly on the road, doing press, radio, TV and in the studio and not at home as much as he would have liked.He was also hitting the booze big time.Unable, at the time to get a definitive answer from Stuart on the bands future they missed out on a spot at Live Aid, having previously featured on the single Do they know it's Christmas.

Come 1988 they recorded Peace In Our Time, a more mellow Middle of the Road album, which was an attempt at cracking the US market, it bombed there and the band looked east, playing Russia’s first international rock festival in August ’88 (Grant: “My pitch to him was: Bono – Amnesty International. It only added to the music press attitude that they had lost their way and were "self-important, pompous do-gooders."

After Russia, Stuart Adamson decided to split the band.They reformed in 91, recording No Place Like Home, it was the first of their albums that failed to reach the UK top 20. The music of the 90's didn't have a place for Big Country, the ensuing albums didn't dent the top 40, it felt like they were just going through the motions.

There was a small glimmer of hope when their single Fragile Thing looked like hitting the top 40, but some bizarre wrangle with the chart compilers about the CD singles cover having "too many folds in it" meant it was disqualified and languished at 69, it would have given them a springboard to punt their new album....... Stuart had by then moved to Nashville and the songs he was crafting reflected the country music scene that immerse the place. He had kicked the drink for a while but reckoned he was happy in Nashville and could start boozing again. In October 2000 Big Country played their last gig in Kuala Lumpar, Malaysia. Adamson almost missed it when, drunk, he got on the wrong plane.The gig was a disaster. Butler later said “We were a karaoke version of what we were,” Butler told the band they should take a break for a couple of years, he didn't think it was helping Adamson's drink problem carrying on. Various people spoke about the next two years, phone calls from concerned friends, Adamson said in one call from Steve Lillywhite that..."I’ve worked it out, I really can’t drink, I mustn’t drink, I’m happy now not drinking…’” There was talk of a collaboration, with amongst other the subject of Saturday's post, Mike Scott and other singers a sort of British Crosby Stills and Nash. On November 15, 2001, Adamson left a bar in Atlanta, Georgia. His marriage to his second wife falling apart, he was also facing a drink-driving charge that could have led to jail time. He fell off the wagon, hard. He flew back to Nashville where, instead of going home, he stayed in various hotels. Grant hired a private detective to find him – to no avail. “He drunk solidly for eight weeks in hotels,” says the manager, “and every time we found out where he was he’d just checked out for another one.” On December 4, he flew to Hawaii and checked into a hotel near Honolulu Airport where he requested the delivery of three bottles of wine to his room each day. He never left the room. On December 16, he was found by security hanging from a clothes rail. No suicide note was ever found. He was 43. Putting this post together has been difficult for me, I fight my own demons every day, and could easily fall into a life of constant boozing, I do however manage just to hold things together. Adamson's music was a big part of my formative years and I still listen to his songs regularly, some with tears in my eyes, like this one, the aforementioned Fragile Thing, the lyric tells a story much like my own and I can empathise with him through this tune......... Thank you ma'am for asking Yes I'm on my own I guess it's kind of obvious I'm eating here aloneI'm grateful for the company Tired of talking to myself Don't you look into my eyes You might see someone else

If you decide to watch/listen to the track, you might recognise a certain Scottish female singer adding her vocals to the song......

If I have made any mistakes of mispelled anything here please don't tell me know, leave it be, like Stuart Adamson and myself, it is flawed.

#scotand #scottish #singersongwriter #tortured soul #Suicide

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